“More cheery in battle, than chatting to suitors or taking the bench at a bridal feast.”
This isn’t “news”, in the sense that the research in question dates back about three years, but a link touting a “recent archaeological discovery” popped up from two separate, independent sources on my Facebook timeline recently. Part of me suspects some kind of publicity stunt for the History Channel’s Vikings series [season 3 in spring 2015!]. However, since that is actually a pretty good show, and we now have a shiny new platform to handle such things, let’s seize the chance to talk about some warrior women of the period, covering the era from the fall of the Roman empire to the Battle of Hastings – and, in particular, the most renowned of them all, Lagertha.
The key to the 2011 findings was the decision to determine the sex of buried Viking skeletons by analyzing the buried Viking skeletons. This may seem fairly basic to us laymen, but apparently, the previous technique involved deciding that if you were buried with a sword or shield. you were a man, and if you had a brooch, you were a woman. This led to the conclusion that Viking raiding parties were overwhelmingly male. However, a re-examination of 14 Norse burials, examining the bones rather than the contents alongside them, showed six were women, seven were men, and one was unable to be determined. This suggests, according to USA Today, that “Rather than the ravaging rovers of legend, the Vikings arrived as marriage-minded colonists.”
However, the article making the rounds leaps from the news that women were buried with weapons, to the more questionable conclusion, that “Half of the Warriors Were Female.” Even going beyond the fact that 14 corpses isn’t exactly a reliable sample size, being buried with weapons didn’t necessarily mean you were a warrior. Everything else, from their literature down, indicates the Vikings were an extremely patriarchal society, and there’s little or no supporting evidence to back the “50/50” claim in the clickbait title. This isn’t to say that strong, independent women didn’t exist in the time, just that they were very much the exception. We have previously written about Aethelflaed, but perhaps the most famous – with an assist by that Vikings series again! – was Lagertha, the first wife of legendary Norse ruler and hero Ragnar Lodbrok [Lothbrok in the show].
Lagertha
Most of what is known about Lagertha came from Scandinavian chronicler, Saxo Grammaticus, though he was writing in the 12th century, three centuries or so after the period where she apparently lived. While seen by modern Danes as their first national historian, as with some other “historical” writers, he was writing as much for entertainment value as the historical record, and seems to have had a bit of a reputation for embellishment. Still, I think I might have got on quite well with old Saxo, who seemed to be quite fond of warrior women. As well as Lagertha, in an earlier volume of his histories, he tells the story of Alfhild, a princess who “exchanged woman’s for man’s attire, and, no longer the most modest of maidens, began the life of a warlike rover.” That was Book VII, which also includes the following passage, a nice scene-setter for Lagertha’s saga.
There were once women among the Danes who dressed themselves to look like men, and devoted almost every instant of their lives to the pursuit of war, that they might not suffer their valour to be unstrung or dulled by the infection of luxury. For they abhorred all dainty living, and used to harden their minds and bodies with toil and endurance. They put away all the softness and light-mindedness of women, and inured their womanish spirit to masculine ruthlessness… These women, therefore (just as if they had forgotten their natural estate, and preferred sternness to soft words), offered war rather than kisses, and would rather taste blood than busses, and went about the business of arms more than that of amours. They devoted those hands to the lance which they should rather have applied to the loom. They assailed men with their spears whom they could have melted with their looks, they thought of death and not of dalliance.
Lagertha, called Ladgerda by Saxo, appears in Book IX, after Ragnar goes to Sweden to avenge the death of his grandfather, Siward. The perpetrator had turned Siward’s female relations into prostitutes; when freed, some, including Lagertha, joined Ragnar’s forces, for personal revenge. Saxo calls Largertha, “a skilled amazon, who, though a maiden, had the courage of a man, and fought in front among the bravest with her hair loose over her shoulders. All marvelled at her matchless deeds, for her locks flying down her back betrayed that she was a woman.” Her exploits caused Ragnar to fall for her, and after some wooing i.e. stabbing her guard-bear – the pair were married. None of the above is mentioned in Vikings, but it covers their later divorce, and her steadfast loyalty, coming to Ragnar’s aid in his greatest need. Her “matchless spirit though a delicate frame” turned the course of a battle; the last we hear, she went home and killed her second husband, because Lagertha “thought it pleasanter to rule without her husband than to share the throne with him.”
The “island girl”
Another historian, Procopius, in his recounting of the Gothic war of the mid sixth century AD, tells of a girl from Britain – known only as the “island girl”, who was betrothed to Radigis, a prince of the Varni tribe from Northern Germany. However, for political reasons, Radigis ended up jilting the island girl and marrying his stepmother instead. His British fiancee was not impressed:
But when the betrothed of Radigis learned this, she could not bear the indignity of her position and undertook to secure revenge upon him for his insult to her… She took up the duties of a man and proceeded to deeds of war. She accordingly collected four hundred ships immediately and put on board them an army of not fewer than one hundred thousand fighting men, and she in person led forth this expedition against the Varni.
When Radigis was eventually captured, “He stood before her eyes trembling and expecting to die instantly by the most cruel death; she, however, contrary to his expectations, neither killed him nor inflicted any other harm upon him, but by way of reproaching him for his insult to her, enquired of the fellow why in the world he had made light of the agreement and allied himself to another woman.” The prince explained it was purely due to political expediency, and offered to fulfill his original commitment. The island girl accepted, and the pair apparently lived happily ever after – or, at least, I’d like to think so, since Procopius made no further mention of them.
Hervor
A character from the saga cycle telling of the magic sword Tyrfing, Hervor was perhaps the baddest of the Viking badasses – her father Angantyr was killed in a duel, which may explain her wild childhood. She is described as being “as strong as the boys” and it’s said that “as soon as she could do anything for herself, she trained more with shot and shield and sword than sewing or embroidery.” She certainly had a particularly venomous approach to teenage rebellion: “When these things were forbidden to her, she ran into the woods and killed men for their money.” In terms of badassdom, that certainly beats yelling “I hate you!” and running off to sulk in your bedroom, I suppose.
Brought up by the local Jarl (chief), her maternal grandfather, when she eventually discovered her true heritage, she headed out into the world, dressed as a man, to seek Angantyr’s treasure. She joined forces with some Vikings, and when their captain died, took over the ship. They went to seek treasure on the isle of Samsey, but none of crew would land due to the place’s reputation: “such evil things walk there night and day, that it’s worse in the daytime, than most places are at night.” Hervor went on her own, called out the spirit of Angantyr and more or less badgered him into handing over Tyrfing. But she had to make her own way back, as when she returned to the coast, the supernatural shenanigans had scared away all her Viking crew.
Acquiring the sword didn’t make Hervor any less touchy, however. While hanging out at the court of Godmund, a king in Jotunheim, someone picked up and drew Tyrfing, when Hervor was given the king some tactical advice during a game of chess. She killed him for it. Others at the court wanted to take revenge, but the king recommend they settle down, saying, “There won’t be as much vengeance in that one as you think, because you don’t know who it is. This woman will cost you dear before you take her life.” But, eventually, even Hervor grew tired of warfare and raiding, and went back home, developing a fondness for more traditional pursuits such as weaving and embroidery. She eventually married Godmund’s son, Hofund – but her father’s concerns about giving her Tyrfing proved well-founded, as one of their children, Heidrek, used it to slay another son in a fit of rage.
When he grew up, Heidrek named his daughter Hervor, and she wasn’t much less a bad-ass than her grandmother, becoming a shieldmaiden, and commanding a Gothic fort. She fell in battle against the Huns, and when the news (also describing Hervor with the sentence atop this article) was reported to her half-brother who had become king, he replied, “Óbróðurliga vartu leikin, in ágæta systir,” which translates as “Unbrotherly the bloody game they played with you, excellent sister.”
‘Ride of the Valkyries’ by John Charles Dollman [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
Concerning Valkyries, and their rides
Finally, it would be remiss not to mention the Valkyries, simply due to their being entirely legendary, although they were less warriors directly than “choosers of the slain.” That’s what their collective name translates as, and the Valkyries picked about half of those killed in battle, to go to Valhalla for an all-you-can-drink buffet of mead with Odin, until the apocalyptic events from Norse lore, known as Ragnarök. [In case you’re wondering, those not chosen still get a consolation prize, instead hanging out with Freya in her eternal meadow, Fólkvangr. No word on mead availability there]
If not inclined to wield swords themselves, they didn’t mess around. Chapter 157 of the Icelandic saga, The Story of Burnt Njal, tells of a man called Daurrud, who spied on the Valkyries as they prepared for the Battle of Clontarf, fought outside what is now Dublin in 1014. They were weaving- but not any old weaving, to decide who would live and die in the upcoming fight.
This woof is y-woven
With entrails of men,
This warp is hardweighted
With heads of the slain,
Spears blood-besprinkled
For spindles we use,
Our loom ironbound,
And arrows our reels;
With swords for our shuttles
This war-woof we work;
So weave we, weird sisters,
Our warwinning woof.
Yep, that’s some pretty damn hardcore handicraft. Brunhilde (more properly, Brynhildr) is the best known individual Valkyrie, thanks mostly to Richard Wagner. [The phrase, “It ain’t over until the fat lady sings,” was largely inspired by her character in Götterdämmerung, whose final aria leads to the opera’s end – and, indeed, the end of the Norse gods.] However, there were a lot more of them – Wikipedia lists almost forty, with names that appears to be descriptive of temperament and/or ability. There’s Geirdriful (“spear-flinger”), Eir (“mercy”), Skalmöld (“sword-time”), etc.
However, for those who ever played Gauntlet – and many a Sunday afternoon was wasted by me down the student union in the mid-80’s doing just that! – their Valkyrie, Thyra, was not named after one, but the wife of the first recognized Danish king, Gorm. There are reports she led an army against the Germans, but I haven’t been able to locate specifics of that. However, our old pal Saxo Grammaticus tells us, Thyra “would not marry him till she had received Denmark as a dowry,” which is certainly playing hardball in negotiations.
Viking films
- Bae Wolf
- Escape (Flukt)
- Forest Child, by Heather Day Gilbert
- The Legend of Princess Olga
- Viking Destiny
- The Viking Queen
- The Viking Sisters
- The Viking Women and the Sea Serpent
It remains a matter of some small pride that the first album (kids, ask your parents!) I ever bought, was Kate Bush’s The Kick Inside. Unlike some artists from my days as a callow youth, she has stood the test of time very, very well, and over three decades later, despite many wannabes over time (coughToriAmoscough), there has still been no-one like her. I’ve been on a bit of a Kate Bush revival of late, inspired by her current return to live performance in London, after a gap of 
★★★★½
In terms of content, there isn’t much alteration, with the only real change, a small but significant cut at the end of Volume 1. What’s removed, is Bill’s line, “Is she aware her daughter is still alive?” This means neither audience nor heroine know this, until she shows up at Bill’s house for the final confrontation. [I have to say, her daughter certainly doesn’t seem like a four-year old either.] Rather than substance, the biggest difference for me was stylistic: the overall balance seemed more even, as a single entity, than seen as two separate pieces months apart. Volume 2 seemed excessively talky on its own. While that’s still the case, it’s to a significantly lesser degree, being balanced directly by the first half, where The Bride engages in actions, not words. Indeed, the only person she kills in the second part is Bill, a sharp contrast to the pile of corpses left in her wake during its predecessor. His death still feels somewhat rushed, and it’s a shame the original ending – a swordfight between Bill and Beatrix, clad in her wedding dress, on the beach – couldn’t be filmed, because the production went over time.
What hasn’t changed is the sheer, unadulterated awesomeness of the fights, as jaw-droppingly brutal and intense as they were ten years ago. Yuen Wo-Ping certainly cements his position as the most inventive and effective martial arts choreographer in history. Though this version has the entire House of Blue Leaves fight in colour, the arterial spray becomes 
It certainly is a show ‘for mature viewers,’ containing its fair share of violence and sex, which has naturally led to the usual accusations of the usual misogyny from the usual sources. I don’t think the reality is anywhere near as simple as this, not least because the creators are pretty much equal opportunity when it comes to character abuse. Sure, sexual assault is skewed towards the women; decapitation, on the other hand, is pretty much a male preserve. No-one gets out unscathed: man, woman, child or wolf. There’s also an obvious difference between depiction and endorsement. And it’d be kinda ludicrous to have a medieval-styled fantasy world, operating as some kind of anarcho-syndicalist commune, where people take it in turns to be a sort of executive officer for the week, but all the decisions of that officer have to be ratified at a special bi-weekly meeting. Boring as shit, too.
7. Ygritte
2. Brienne of Tarth
We’ve covered a couple of entries in the series previously, but I’ve decided to start work a rather more comprehensive set of reviews, systematically watching them in order, rather than the sporadic pieces previously published, as they fell across my retinas. Some of those pieces were also reprints from a previous publication, and were also shorter than the ones I’ve grown accustomed to writing. This was largely inspired by stumbling across the first movie, dating from the seventies, and realizing that I could now cover the entire set. I hate incompleteness. :) This will be an ongoing project, likely taking me through the winter and into next spring, so check back often (okay: fairly often!) for updates.
When the series started in 1974, it originally appeared to be trying to take on the Female Convict Scorpion series at its own game – both were inspired by Toru Shinohara manga series. However, going by the fact it took more than two decades for a second entry in the series, I can only presume the commercial returns weren’t anywhere near as strong. This starts off well, with policewoman Rei (Sugimoto) luring in, and then blowing away, the man responsible for torturing and killing another woman. Turns out the perpetrator was a diplomat and in the resulting scandal, Rie is sent to jail. Her chance at redemption comes when a gang of thugs stumble into the kidnapping of the daughter of a politician (Tamba): to avoid a scandal, Rie is offered a pardon if she infiltrates the kidnappers and kills them all. Initially, all goes to plan, with the first member taken out quickly, but it soon becomes clear the other members are rampaging psychos, and the situation rapidly spirals out of control, to the point where the politician yanks his support and orders the deaths of everyone, in the name of damage limitation – including both his daughter and Rie.
Probably the least accurate title of any film ever – at least Friday the 13th put out a few movies before using “final” – you definitely should begin here if you’re looking for much coherence. Rei (Iijima) is now partly employed as secretary to the head of Section Zero, but also takes out criminals for whom traditional channels of law enforcement aren’t enough, for one reason or another. She also pals around with Takako (Fukuoka), a detective from another section and a girl he helped bring out of delinquency, in what’s vaguely intimated as a love triangle. One night, they witness a hit and run, and discover the perpetrator (Suzuki) is the daughter of a powerful economic figure. Despite encountering official resistance, Rei and Takako persist with their investigation and, inevitably, this brings out more robust sanctions.
Confusingly titled in the West, without any indication it wasn’t the first of the rebooted franchise, this perhaps explains why there’s little or no explanation of… Well, anything, really. What is Section Zero? Who is Rei? Where did she come from? “Never mind about that,” seems to be the film’s attitude, “Here are Natsuki Ozawa’s breasts to distract you from such trifles.” That’s particularly the case early on, when it seems Rei is unable to go five minutes without showing them off, whether it’s through being molested, becoming inescapably randy or simply taking a soapy shower (to wash off the blood after a kill, so I guess it’s a shower necessary to the plot – it also replays the intruder shower scene from its predecessor, with a different ending).
After the genuinely impressive bleakness of Assassin Lovers, the series comes crashing back to earth with a splat like a rotten tomato for this entry, which fizzles out early on, and then manages to lumber on for another 45 minutes. Rei (Tachihara) spends her time between missions hanging out at a gay bar, and rescues one of the rent boys, Mitsusu (Kitagawa), who ply their trade there after a vicious assault – accompanied, it has to be said, by the least appropriate music in the history of cinematic homosexual rape. He ends up moving in with her, to the latest in a series of unfurnished apartments provided by Section Zero, and the two damaged individuals start creating a life, of sorts, for themselves. However, there’s a serial killer, apparently with a deep hatred of men, operating in the area, and Rei is given the mission of tracking down and eliminating the psycho.
If ever I become an evil overlord, I will ensure my minions’ idea of security does not involve walking slowly in the open, towards an attacker, while firing wide of them from a range no greater than a slightly oversize dinner-table. That’s the first thing we take from this, which begins with a thoroughly implausible scene where Rei (Ono, who had been a part of 90’s J-pop group CoCo) manages to drown her target, a German industrialist, despite him being roughly twice her size, and without anyone in or around the swimming-pool noticing anything. She then climbs out, pulling a gun from who knows where, kills bodyguards who’d fail the Imperial Stormtrooper accuracy exam, and abseils down the side of the building to escape. That sets the tone for much of what follows, combining a reunion with someone from her past, a blossoming relationship with a chef, and her boss’s traditional surly reluctance to allow anything as banal as “personal happiness” to distract his #1 killer from her work.
The main mission given to Rie (Shiratori this time) is a little bit different, from her usual, straight-forward assassinations. Instead, she’s given the job of protecting a witness. Nana (Matsuda), the disgruntled mistress of an organ-trafficking ring, who has had enough and agreed to co-operate with the police. Rie is part of the protection detail, but soon finds out that the gangsters, under ever-so strange boss Kaneda (Nogami) with his transvestite tendencies, are not going to sit back and wait for Nana to take the witness stand. Oddly, the cops let Nana stay in her own apartment, perhaps figuring that’s the last place her former lover would look. but when that is unsurprisingly stormed, Rie takes the target back to the operative’s flat, where they hang out, exchanging small talk – that’s mostly Nana, of course, since Rie is about as talkative as the enormous pet fish she has in a tank, and to which she feeds goldfish.
In the first half of the 1970’s, Meiko Kaji was to the slightly-disreputable end of Japanese cinema, much what Pam Grier was to the same end of Hollywood movies. Both made a career out of playing strong female characters, often operating on or beyond the boundaries of the law, and with no compunction about using violence to achieve their ends – which often involved taking revenge on those (almost alwayx men) who had wronged them. The Sasori [Japanese for “scorpion”] was not Kaji’s first foray into the genre, having cut her teeth on the Noraneko Rokku [Straycat or Alleycat Rock] films, a couple of years previously.
Right from the start, Nami (Kaji) established her utterly hardcore credentials, as she’s trying to dig her way out of the dungeon where she has been for the past year. With a spoon. Held in her teeth. She’s let out for the day because a bigwig is visiting, but takes the opportunity to attack warden Goda (Watanabe), almost depriving him of the sight of his other eye. As punishment for the resulting riot, Goda sends four guards to gang-rape Nami, and all the inmates are sent to a hard-labour camp. On the way back, they beat Nami as punishment, leaving her near-dead but it turns out that was just her ruse to get the guards to open the back of the van and escape. She leads the women across a blasted landscape, revenge once more on her mind, with Goda’s men in hot pursuit.
When this begins, Nami (Kaji) is on the run, and slices the arm off Detective Kondo (Narita) after he handcuffs himself to her. She befriends street hooker Yuki (Watanabe), who runs foul of the locak Yakuza gang by turning tricks on their turn, while trying to care for her brain-damaged brother, whom she also services sexually, to stop him from raping women(!). After Nami is involved in the death of a gang member who was blackmailing her, the gang’s madam Katsu (Lee), who knew the Scorpion from her own prison days, captures her, locking our heroine up in a literal big bird-cage. But after the true horror of the Yakuza’s treatment of their women is revealed (it starts with a golf-club going where no golf-club should ever go), Nami escapes and carves a bloody path of revenge on those responsible. When Katsu realizes what’s going on, she turns herself in to the police, figuring jail will be safe from Sasori’s wrath. Take a wild stab in the dark… Which, by coincidence is exactly what Katsu deserves.
Nami (Kaji) is about to get married, but her wedding day is rudely interrupted by the arrival of the cops, who arrest her. On the way to prison (and, unsurprisingly, death row, given the body count left behind in the previous three movies), she takes out the driver, causing a crash. The injured Scorpion staggers away, and is rescued by Kudo (Tamura), a former political radical who was brutalized by the police for his actions, and so has a massive load of resentment against them. After being informed of Kudo’s harbouring of Nami by a worked at the sex-club where he works, the cops take him in: and use both physical and psychological torture to try and make him give up her location. Eventually arrested, Nami is sentenced to death, but the cops intend to make sure the time leading up to her execution is as unpleasant and possible, and the detective in charge, Hirose (Tsukata), is intent on making even Nami’s death as lonely an experience as possible.
Just goes to show that the “cinematic reboot” is not a 21st-century invention, e.g. Batman or James Bond. For a mere three years after Meiko Kaji showed her sting as Nami, the studio reset the series, giving it a new director, new (and much more talkative) lead actress, and returning Nami Matsushima to a happy, criminal record-free young women, with a loving boyfriend. Except, of course, he turns out not to love her quite as much. Things start to collapse after her sister uncovers evidence of major government corruption, and passes it to Nami, shortly before being kidnapped. After Nami uncovers the truth – her sister is killed and she is framed for the murder, with the help of her boyfriend, and sentenced to 15 years in prison. Initially an easy mark for the tough girls in her cell, Nami soon develops her mean streak. And she’s going to need it, because the politician behind it all is looking to tidy up the loose end she represents, by killing her and making the death look like a suicide. Name turns the tables, in incendiary fashion, and it’s clear that she’s one loose end that won’t be quietly disposed of.
The comparisons of Takigawa to Lazenby above proved appropriate in another way, both being canned after one entry playing the iconic title character, which is probably just as symptomatic of something. The replacement here as Nami Matsushima is Natsuki, who seems to go back toward a more taciturn heroine, closer to the original. But it’s, effectively, another reboot, with not even a nod to the previous entry. In this case, the heroine is a nurse, framed for her involvement in the hospital murder of a politician who was threatening to expose corrupt practices.
