Many would argue that there can be no such thing, “Viking women,” that there must only be Vikings, meaning men exclusively.
Language is ceaselessly malleable over the ages and is adaptable to the constant search of humans for meaning and purpose. Mythology, telling stories, is part of this process. My father rewove Norse mythology to free the thunder god Thor from his contrived Aeisir connections, Aesir being the upstart carpetbagging nobility deities who arrived on horseback in Europe from the Far East some thousand or so years ago.
Some sort of thunder god has been native to the European continent for centuries before the arrival of the Aesir from points in the Orient. The word “Aesir” is closely related to “Asia,” the East.
The Vanir, “friends”, “friends of freedom”, Freya, Frey, et al, were established in Scandinavia well before the Aesir arrived. The thunder god Thor may or may not have been allied with the Vanir, but he was concurrently existent with the Vanir before the carpetbagging Aesir and their “Fadergott” Odin claimed Thor as his son. The war between the Vanir and the Aesir is established lore in Nordic myth.
My father disliked horses and horsemanship enormously because of the relationship of the horse to the privileged, the nobility, warriors, the military, and was strictly in the camp of the Vanir, friends of the common people, and Thor, every working man’s best pal who traveled in a humble goat cart and carried a workingman’s tool, a hammer.
With the arrival of the Aesir arose class distinctions and the myth of Heimdall, the whitest of the giant, blond, white ones from the east who were even taller on their horses. According to the Heimdall myth, Heimdall, the exceedingly pale guardian of the Rainbow bridge over which Thor could not tread, was also the creator of humanity, its father.
First, Heimdall, also called Rig, slept with the wife of the lowest of the low to father the “serfs”, slaves, the thralls, the antithesis of the Vanir, Frey, Freya, friend, freedom:
Rígr was walking along the shore and came to a farm-hut owned by Ái (great-grandfather) and Edda (great-grandmother). They offered him shelter and poor, rough food for a meal. That night Rígr slept between the pair in their bed and then departed. Nine months later, Edda gave birth to a son who was svartan (dark). They named him Þræll (thrall, serf, or slave). Þræll grew up strong but ugly. He married a woman named Thír (slave girl or bondswoman), and they had twelve sons and nine daughters with names mostly suggesting ugliness and squatness. They became the race of serfs.
Next, he slept with the wife of the landowner, the peasant, to create the class that owned property:
Traveling further, Rígr came across a pleasant house where a farmer/craftsman, Afi (grandfather), lived with his wife Amma (grandmother). This couple gave him good food and also let him sleep between them. Nine months later, a son, Karl (churl or freeman), was born, who had a ruddy complexion. Karl married a woman named Snör or Snœr (daughter-in-law; sometimes anglicized as Snor), and they had twelve sons and ten daughters with names mostly suggesting a neat appearance or being of good quality. One of the names is smiðr (smith). These became the ancestors of free farmers, craftsmen and herdsmen.
Lastly, the nobility, warriors, military, had their turn:
Traveling further, Rígr came to a mansion inhabited by Faðir (Father) and Móðir (Mother). They gave him excellent food served splendidly and, nine months later, Móðir gave birth to a beautiful baby named Jarl (earl or noble), whose hair was blond and who was bleikr (bright white in color). When Jarl grew up and began to handle weapons and to use hawks, hounds, and horses, Rígr reappeared, claimed him as his son, gave him his own name of Rígr, made him his heir, taught him runes, and advised him to seek lordship.
Through warfare Jarl became lord of eighteen homesteads with much wealth besides. He also gained the hand of Erna (Brisk), daughter of Hersir (lord). Erna bore eleven sons to Ríg-Jarl but no daughters. All the sons were given high-sounding names, mostly meaning "son". They became the ancestors of the warrior nobility.
Needless to say, a man named Adolf Hitler loved this myth, a nice bit of story telling explaining the origins of humanity and justifying class structures.
But, those Vanir, now forgotten in the rush to embrace the Aesir, and the women.
Freya, the delicious reigning goddess of the Vanir, is an unashamed slut and damned proud of it. Other beings repeatedly try to slam her for her loose ways and she laughs them off.
Freya, bedazzled by a necklace, freely sleeps with the dwarves of the four directions, Nordi, Sudri, Austri, Vestri, who all enjoyed a most memorable four nights in the arms of Freya, who walked away with the necklace.
Nevertheless, Freya did not sleep with just anybody. She loved her freedom to choose her lovers and refused to be coerced into having sex with anyone, a triumphant goddess who opposed rape.
One tale, widely bowdlerized by prim pricks who hate to see freedom-loving women running around, tells of the theft of Thor’s hammer, Mjölnir..
My version, truer to the original tale, relates that the jealous trickster Loki, (I must own up to my theory that Loki and “fadergott” Odin were actually lovers, I can’t find any indication that Odin had any particularly warm feelings for his consort Frigga), Loki was also jealous of the friendship and bond between Odin and Thor, strictly platonic as I do not believe that Thor’s tastes ran to men, as well as Loki’s jealousy of Freya who was probably swiping possible sexual partners from him left and right, stole the hammer of Thor, Mjölnir, to arrange for the rape of Freya.
Loki handed off Mjölnir to the giant Thrym, who hankered after Freya and wanted her as his wife, willing ot not. Probably, he fancied an unwilling Freya. So, the ransom note was written, hand over Freya and Thrym hands over Mjölnir,
Freya was furious. She did not fancy the hairy, unbathed giant and said so – and god knows how many beastly, hairy, unbathed males she’d dallied with in the past, that was beside the point.
No coerced sex.
And, Thor, wondrously masculine, manly Thor, agrees with Freya and does the unthinkable. Both Thor and Freya have red hair so Thor veils himself to hide the beard, dresses as a woman and passes himself off as Freya and Thrym’s bashful bride. Thrym is a bit astounded at the sight of a seemingly meek, cooperative Freya arriving at his wedding party, amazed at her huge size, her ability to gobble down a whole roasted ox, thrilled when she trillingly and coyly asks to touch his “hammer”. Giggle! Giggle!
Unfortunately, Mjölnir is restored to the hand of Thor and mayhem ensues, end of story.
But, that is the mythic legacy for Viking women.
Also, one small story of my father, the inventor of stories. He and I almost always traveled to the small town of Artesian every Saturday night so he could drink coffee and gossip and I could see the latest cowboy flick.
One Saturday, I ambled into the theater and seated myself solo for the flick. Much to my surprise, a man I did not recognize spotted me and placed his large body beside me. I was a bit alarmed but ignored him as the cinema proceeded.
Suddenly I found his hand placed firmly on my crotch, fondling my female parts. I was stunned, then removed myself, mumbling something about getting popcorn. I was utterly clueless about his strange behavior. I got the popcorn, seated myself well behind the strange man and watched him warily, as well as the movie.
Hesitatingly, on the way home, I told my father of the encounter. He said, and this should be said to every damned woman in the world:
If a man touches you like that, YOU PUNCH HIM!
My father had not fully absorbed American culture and mores. He really liked and respected women.
Had I told my mother, who was more American-accultured, I feel sure that she would have ridiculed me, told me it was my imagination – or made excuses for the man.
Looking back, I wish that my father could have been, Heimdall-like, the father of all women.