Futhark: International Journal of Runic Studies 7...

Futhark

Vol. 7 · 2016

International Journal of Runic Studies

Main editorsJames E. Knirk and Henrik Williams

Assistant editorMarco Bianchi

© Contributing authors 2017This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License (CC BY 4.0)

All articles are available free of charge at http://www.futhark-journal.com

A printed version of the issue can be ordered throughhttp://urn.kb.se/resolve?urn=urn:nbn:se:uu:diva-309051

Editorial advisory board: Michael P. Barnes (University College London), Klaus Düwel (University of Göttingen), Lena Peterson (Uppsala University), Marie Stoklund (National Museum, Copenhagen)

Typeset with Linux Libertine by Marco Bianchi

University of OsloUppsala University

ISSN 1892-0950

Published with financial support from the Nordic Publications Committee for Humanist and Social Sciences Periodicals (NOP-HS)

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Contents

Foreword. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5

Bernard Mees. The Hogganvik Inscription and Early Nordic Memorialisation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7

Wolfgang Beck. Die Runeninschrift auf der Gürtelschnalle von Pforzen als Zeugnis der germanischen Heldensage? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29

Luzius Thöny. The Chronology of Final Devoicing and the Change of *z to ʀ in Proto-Norse . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47

Helmer Gustavson. Två runristade kopparamuletter från Solberga, Köpingsvik (Öl Fv1976;96A och Öl Fv1976;96B) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 63

Elena A. Melʹnikova. A New Runic Inscription from Hagia Sophia Cathedral in Istanbul . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 101

Jana Krüger and Vivian Busch. The Metrical Characteristics of Maeshowe Runic Inscription No. 20 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 111

Short noticesJuliana Roost. An Inscribed Fibula from Basel-Kleinhüningen? . . . . . . . . . 127Charlotte Boje Andersen and Lisbeth M. Imer. Ydby-stenen (DR 149)

genfundet . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 131Jan Owe. Åsa, en mö i Skänninge (Ög 239) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 137Magnus Källström. Till tolkningen av runorna på ett dryckeskärl från

Lund (DR EM85;474A) . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 143Per Stille. Johan Bures runtavla och dess titel . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 149

ReviewsMartin Findell. Runes. Reviewed by Mindy MacLeod . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 155Heikki Oja. Riimut: Viestejä viikingeiltä. Reviewed by Kendra Willson . . 158Wolfgang Krause. Schriften zur Runologie und Sprachwissenschaft.

Reviewed by Martin Hannes Graf . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 164Klaus Düwel. Runica minora: Ausgewählte kleine Schriften zur

Runenkunde. Reviewed by Patrik Larsson . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 170Irene García Losquiño. The Early Runic Inscriptions: Their Western

Features. Reviewed by Martin Hannes Graf . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 174Lisbeth M. Imer and (photo) Roberto Fortuna. Danmarks runesten: En

fortelling. Reviewed by Anne-Sofie Gräslund . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 181

Florian Busch. Runenschrift in der Black-Metal-Szene: Skripturale Praktiken aus soziolinguistischer Perspektive. Reviewed by Martin Findell . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 186

Contributors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 193

Foreword

This seventh volume of Futhark again has a wide scope, with contributions ranging from one of the oldest runestones to the very first runo logical pub-li cation. Half a dozen articles and five short notices deal with topics which are chrono logically, geographically and topologically diverse. The seven reviews highlight this variation, not least diachronically, as is shown by the examination of a book on sociolinguistic aspects of the use of runes in contem porary Black Metal rock. This serves as a reminder that runic inscrip tions are as popular as ever today, if not more so. Albeit small, the discipline of runology is pursued by scholars from over twenty countries and popular interest is growing. Two serious handbooks in English have been published in recent years, and they will, we hope, counteract the mis infor mation and abuse of runic matters. The general public must be offered scholarly evidence in this media world of post-factual “truths”.

This issue contains no contributions to debate. This is somewhat sur-prising in view of the article in last year’s Futhark on the Rök stone inscrip tion, which adopted a largely new position on its interpretation, triggering worldwide interest and full-length pieces or shorter notices in many newspapers, including the Washington Post. The article itself has been downloaded over 4,000 times, validating the idea of making Futhark freely available on the Internet. The lack of published criticism from runol ogists does not of course imply general agreement with the new find ings. Scholarly counter arguments may be forthcoming, and as always we invite debate on this and other runic matters.

We wish to thank Mindy MacLeod for her excellent work as our language consultant. Our gratitude also extends to our many peer reviewers and book reviewers who perform invaluable work without tangible rewards and, in the case of the former, in anonymity as well. We again remind you that Futhark is also available in print: make sure libraries and institutions order it. While Open Access publishing in digital form is invaluable, hard copies will never lose their usefulness and are a guarantee of permanent avail ability.

James E. Knirk Henrik Williams

The Hogganvik Inscription and Early Nordic Memorialisation

Bernard Mees (RMIT University, Melbourne)

AbstractIn 2009 an early runic inscription was discovered on a triangular projecting area that through subsequent excavation was confirmed to be at the lower part of a funerary monument. Yet such find reports and commentaries as have appeared to date have tended not to assess the Hogganvik inscription prin-ci pally as a commemorative expression, as an example of a broader memo-rial epigraphic tradition. Rather than as an epigraphic record of the history of emotions, suggestions of magic appear in the main treatments of the remark-able find. After all, lexically irregular sequences found on other early runic memo rials are often taken as signs they feature a magical aspect. Taking the Hoggan vik inscription in its broader linguistic and archaeological context, how ever, suggests a rather different understanding is to be assumed for the early Norwegian memorial. Instead of reflecting magic, the less clear sections of the Hoggan vik text can more regularly be understood as abbreviated or other wise obscurely expressed sequences.

Keywords: Hogganvik runestone (Vest-Agder), runic inscriptions, history of emotions, onomastics, memo ri alisation, curses, abbreviations

Introduction

The question of what constitutes proper method in the humanities was of particular concern to scholars such as Wilhelm Dilthey. In his Einleitung in die Geisteswissenschaften (1883), Dilthey laid out his own under standing of what social scientists such as Max Weber (1922) would come to call Verstehen — interpretative understanding of humanly derived expressions. It remains rare, however, in runological discourse for inter pretative issues to be treated explicitly, even in assessments of

Mees, Bernard. “The Hogganvik Inscription and Early Nordic Memorialisation.” Futhark: International Journal of Runic Studies 7 (2016, publ. 2017): 7–28.

© 2017 Bernard Mees. This is an open-access article distributed under the terms of the CC BY 4.0 International License

and available free of charge at http://urn.kb.se/resolve?urn=urn:nbn:se:uu:diva-316585.

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recently un covered finds such as the older runic memorial text unearthed at Hoggan vik, Norway, in 2009. The early runic texts are usually not approached in terms of broader devel opments in ancient or medieval histori og raphy such as the “epigraphic habit” of Roman experience first emphasised by Ramsay MacMullen (1982) or the more recent history of emotions approach to early medieval funerary memorials advanced by Barbara Rosen wein (2006, 57–78). This includes previous interpretations of the Hoggan vik memorial, discovered by Henrik and Arnfinn Henrik sen while clearing away stumps on their property in the village of Sånum-Lunde vik, in the Norwegian county of Vest-Agder. A reflection of the long-discussed matter of interpretative method, however, can be seen in discussions of the role that historical imagination plays in runic studies, partic ularly as the matter was set out by Ray Page in the first edition of his Introduction to English Runes (1973, 13–15).

BackgroundIn the first edition of his “little red book”, Page contrasts the approach to epi graphic interpretation of Karl Schneider (1956) with that of Erik Molt ke (cf. Moltke 1985) — and even the extremely reactive stance taken by An-ders Bæk sted (1952). Page’s main concern here was inter pretations of runic texts that are overly reliant on magical explanation, often with out using any sort of formal substantiation of what magic is and what it may reason-ably be taken to constitute in a runic context (cf. Page 1964 = 1995, 105–25, Niel sen 1985). Runology has long been practised very much by scholars with the op posite approach to what Ulrich von Wilamo witz-Moel len dorf privately derided as “DM-Wissenschaft” (Braun et al. 1995, 232).

For Wilamowitz, classical epigraphy was evidently a pedantic form of scholar ship that was overly obsessed with cataloguing relatively triv ial ex-pressions such as funerary epigraphs (DM or D(is) M(anibus) ‘to the spirits of the dead’ being a common formula in Roman funerary inscrip tions). Such epi graphers were apparently so lacking in intel lec tual ambi tion they never felt able to venture beyond the bounds of their texts — their work never seemed to allow them to contribute anything of impor tance to broader scholar ship. There is likewise usually little engage ment in “sceptical” runol ogy with the key inter pretative issue in historical analysis — i.e. how to deal with what the historical philosopher (and epigrapher) R. G. Col-ling wood (1946) saw as the essentially unempir ical nature of historical under standing. In 1967 Page had already written mockingly of “that law of runol ogy which ordains that all unintel ligible inscriptions shall be thought

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magical” in reference to the ignotum per ignotius reasoning of Schneider. But much of what is presented in the works of Page and his magic-abjuring followers remains limited to matt ers of kinds which saw them fail to de vel-op their scholarship beyond the level of descriptive empiricism.

The main source of magical interpretations in runic studies at the time was the German comparativist Wolfgang Krause whose corpus of older runic inscriptions (Krause and Jankuhn 1966) is filled with con-jec ture of Page’s “imaginative” type. The interpretations favoured by Krause, however, often make runic epigraphs appear more remarkable than comparable texts found in Roman tradition and suggest a kind of Northern exceptionalism that is asserted but not properly demonstrated. The approach of many scholars since the 1970s has been to ally them-selves to the culturist ambitions of Krause but to reject his penchant for inter preting runic texts as magical. None theless both of the scholars to have published extended treatments of the Hog gan vik inscription since 2009 can be faulted for ful filling Page’s law (the “Second Law of Runo-dynamics” according to Page in Düwel 1981, 18) in their assessments of the early Nor wegian memorial. They may also be criticised for failing to develop their treatments of the Hogganvik inscription to the fuller inter-pretative level that Marc Bloch (1954 [1949]) explained properly consti-tutes historical understanding.

Taking the example of a Roman funerary inscription “carved from a single block, made for a single purpose”, Bloch (pp. 119 f.) claimed that “nothing could be more variegated than the evidences which there await the probing of the scholar’s lancet.” Bloch admitted that he knew how to read Roman inscriptions, but “not how to cross-question them” (Bloch 1954, 54). Early runic memorial inscriptions might more profitably be ap proached in terms of Bloch’s (p. 71) “struggle with docu ments”, (p. 53) “the prime necessity of well-conducted historical research”. E. H. Carr (1964, 30) took Bloch’s notion of interpretative struggle further, describing a “con tin uous process of interaction between a historian and his facts”. Rather than matters magical, ancient memorials may be more con vinc ingly exam ined in light of MacMullen’s notion of an “epi graph ic habit” and the broader “emotional turn” (Plamper 2010) that has recently emerged elsewhere in historical studies.

The Hogganvik inscriptionIn 2009, the first older runic memorial to have been discovered in Norway in over fifty years was announced in the Scandinavian press. As head of

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the Runic Archives in Oslo, James Knirk was duly given access to the find, eventually publishing a full report on the memorial and its discovery in the archaeological journal Viking in 2011. The University of Agder’s Michael Schulte also produced an analysis of the inscription which ap-peared in a Festschrift for the Dutch Nordicist Arend Quak that year after presenting a more typologically sophisticated study of the runestone text to the Agder Academy of Sciences in 2010 (and cf. also Schulte 2013). The inscrip tion from Hogganvik proved an exceptional and exciting find for Nor wegian runology.

The Hogganvik stone is 152 cm broad and 145 cm high, is a reddish augen gneiss, and is rounded at the top where the longest section of the inscription is found. Dated to the late Roman Iron Age (i.e. A.D. c. 150/160–375/400) by Imer (2015, 122) on account of the rectangular form of its e-runes, the Hogganvik inscription features four lines of text which are read by Knirk (2011, 28) from right to left as:

kelbaþewas⁝sṭ͡ainaz⁝aaasrpkfaarpaa⁝inananaḅozeknaudigastiz ekerafaz

Much of the Hogganvik text is fairly readily interpretable, but not all parts of the inscription made immediate sense to Knirk and Schulte. The in scrip tion clearly features an explanation that the stone belonged to a figure called Kelba þewaz, other early runic memorials often featuring the name of the memorialised in a genitival relationship to a suitably funer-ary object description such as stainaz ‘stone’. The inscription also fea tures two first-person statements, ek naudigastiz and ek erafaz, with the lat-ter seeming to represent an expected *erbaz (cf. Old Norse [here after ON] *jarfr (ierfr) ‘wolverine’), the apparent devoicing perhaps a sign of medial voicing of /f/ (and hence the orthographic equivalence of -b- and -f-) emerging at the phonetic level; cf. the By stone’s (-)laif- (KJ 71) vs. the Mykle bostad memorial’s -[la]ib- (KJ 77; Schulte 2010, 59 f.). After all, the erector of the Järs berg memorial (KJ 70) similarly describes himself by relating that he is called …ubazhite:h͡arabana͡z — i.e. with an idio nym fol lowed by what seems best to be understood as an animal cog nomen (erafaz or ‘wolverine’ at Hogganvik, h͡arabana͡z or ‘raven’ at Järs berg). But not much of the rest of the text on the Hogganvik stone could be inter preted precisely by either of the earliest publishers of inter pretations of the find.


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Apart from the most obviously interpretable sections, the Hoggan-vik inscription features two seemingly non-lexical sequences as well as a pre po sitional phrase that Knirk and Schulte interpret differently. Both also suggest that the (apparently) non-lexical sequences may be magical, citing a study by the German runologist Klaus Düwel (1988 = 2011) which seeks to explain the seemingly nonsensical early runic letter sequences that appear so commonly on the Old Germanic bracteates in terms of classical forms of letter magic. But what a magical alphabetic sequence would mean on a runic memorial is not fully explored by Knirk or Schulte.

The name Kelbaþewaz is one of several early runic examples of dithe-matic names in -þewaz, much as the element -gastiz is particularly well attested among the oldest Nordic finds (Peterson 2004). The element -þewaz is also found as an independent lexical item in early runic inscriptions and is often interpreted literally as ‘servant’ (rather than Krause’s ‘liege man’). The first element kelba- is evidently a full-grade variant of the Common Ger manic word for ‘calf’ (cf. Old English [hereafter OE] cilfer, Old High Ger man [hereafter OHG] chilburra ‘chilver, ewe lamb’ < *kelbizjō/-uzjō; cf. Schulte 2010, 52; Knirk 2011, 31). A heroic interpretation ‘calf-thane’ (i.e. a name for a young warrior) also makes much better sense than (mere ly) ‘calf-servant’ — a þewaz (as someone who ‘served’ militarily) presumably represented one of the middle-ranking figures (or liege men) who featured in Iron Age armies (cf. Mees 2003, 59 f.; Pauli Jensen et al. 2003). Naudigastiz is more transparently to be translated literally as ‘need-guest’ — i.e. a guest who is (or has been) in need — an onomastic indexing of the early Germanic (and indeed Indo-European) tradition of (military) hospitality (Wessén 1927, 44 f.; cf. Watkins 1996, 246; Schulte 2011, 63).

The obviously lexical part of the Hogganvik text for which the proper inter pretation is disputed is the collocation in(n)ana nabōz, literally ‘from within the nave’. Schulte (2010, 56; 2013, 124) notes that Old Norse nǫf can also refer to the corner of a house (presumably because the junctures of timber were seen to be comparable to that of the nave of a wooden wheel), but in some later dialects (and place-names) the same form can also mean ‘protruding rock, elevated headland, promontory, cape’, evidently a devel op ment of the semantic ‘corner’. Bjor vand and Linde man (2007, 786 f.) argue that two different etymological roots are involved, with the mean ing ‘corner of house’ semantically unrelated to ‘nave’. At any rate, compar able runic memorials do not feature the preposition in(n)ana; nor do they clear ly feature references to headlands, wheel naves or the corners of houses.

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The early runic memorial habit

It is quite clear, however, even from a superficial survey of the somewhat over forty early runestone inscriptions which have survived, that textual formulas and subtypes can be isolated within the overall older funerary genre. Memorial epigraphy is typically formulaic — funerary inscriptions usually repre sent the clearest epigraphic testimony for what Weber (1922, 12–16) characterised as traditional action (cf. Mees 2013, 327 f.). Much like sets of Iron Age grave goods, funerary epigraphs typically accord to standard typol ogies and feature recurrent formulas because they are solemn emo tional expressions that are public in character (cf. Rosenwein 2006, 61). Like Roman memorials, they clearly reflect a form of “epigraphic habit” (MacMullen 1982) and often feature little more than indications of who the memorialised was and who set the monument up. Since all forms of memo rial epigraphy are stereotypical, the disagreement which has arisen in inter pretations of the Hogganvik inscription may perhaps be resolved by a fuller consideration of the fundamental formulaic characteristics of the older runic memorial habit.

The Hogganvik inscription was found near the remains of an Iron Age grave yard or burial site (Glørstad et al. 2011) and clearly belongs to the early Nordic genre of runestone texts that characteristically feature a man’s name in the genitive and a labelling of the associated grave or memo rial stone. The Bø stone’s hnab͡ụdas hlaiwa ‘Hnabudaz’s grave’, Sten stad’s igijon halaz ‘Ingijo’s stone’ and the similar hariẉulfs·stᴀinᴀz ‘Hari wulfz’s stones’ on the transitional/younger Rävsal memorial are parade examples of this labelling type (KJ 78, KJ 81 and KJ 80, respectively; cf. Anton sen 2002, 191, and Schulte 2010, 49 f., 2013, 121). In contrast, early runic magico-religious inscriptions often feature item descriptions and naming expressions or names, but these are never brought together syn tac tically in the (genitival) manner seen at Hogganvik (MacLeod and Mees 2004; 2006, 71–101). Early Nordic runestone texts sometimes also feature what are usually taken to represent locativising prepo sitional phrases (another feature absent from early runic magico-religious texts), but the proper interpretation of such expressions has often been debated. The Möjbro inscription features the form anahahai, taken by Krause and also Antonsen as ana ha(n)hai ‘on a steed’ (cf. ON hestr < *hanhistaz ‘stallion’) — i.e. as a description which reflects the image of a horse and rider that also appears on the stone (KJ 99; Antonsen 1975, no. 11). Yet *hanhaz is not *hanhistaz — a form *hanhaz is not paralleled in Germanic with a meaning ‘steed’. Hence Staffan Fridell (2008, 2009)


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has more recently suggested a toponymic interpretation ‘at Hå’, with hahai instead representing the name of the place where the memorialised warrior died (although the apparent Sanskrit cognate śankú- ‘peg, spike’ and Old Church Slavonic sǫkŭ ‘branch’ suggest that Hå was a u-stem in Ger manic). The Rö memorial features what seems to have been meant as another prepositional phrase beginning with the preposition ana, but with the rest of the line largely unreadable today (KJ 73). Even less clear is the inscription on the Nordhuglo stone that instead finishes simply with the sequence ih, which has often been supposed (since Bugge, NIæR, no. 49) to represent an abbreviation for in Hugla ‘in Huglo’ (KJ 65), although this interpretation is rather speculative. The Hogganvik text, however, reads in(n)ana ‘within’, not in ‘in’ or ana ‘at, upon’ as would be expected in connection with a place-name. Schulte’s connection of naḅoz with a geographical description of the location of the monument ‘within the area of the protruding rocks’ seems rather unlikely in this light.

Indeed the preposition in(n)ana clearly represents a locativising ex pres-sion which etymologically means ‘from within’, the suffix -na being direc-tional (cf. Latin -nē in supernē ‘from above’, Goth. utana ‘from without’, aftana ‘from behind’ etc.; Schmidt 1962, 178–81 and 183 f.). Surely the semantic which fits best with a directional ‘from within’ is ‘corner of a house’ — i.e. a formation of a type which is widely paralleled in Old Norse; cf. ON innan borgar ‘within the town’, innan hallar ‘within the hall’, innan veggja ‘within the walls’ and (especially) innandura, innan garðs, innan gátta, innanhúss and innanstokks, all of which signify ‘at home, in doors’. The Hogganvik expression inananaḅoz can be understood as meto nymic, then — i.e. with the literal meaning ‘from within the corner of a house’ indicating ‘at home, within the corners/walls of his house’. If the use, albeit limited, of prepositional phrases in other runestone memorials can be used as a guide, then the description inananaḅoz looks as if it indicates that Kelba þewaz died at home, rather than (more heroically) out of doors. No indication comparable to the Möjbro stone’s slaginaz ‘slain’ is given, but the Möjbro inscription is unique among the older runic texts by featuring an explicit verbal indication of dying.

Non-lexical sequencesThe seemingly non-lexical sequences on the Hogganvik stone are linked by both Knirk and Schulte with magical interpretations of comparable orderings which appear on early runic amulets. Nordén (1934, 1940) inter-preted several of the early Nordic runestone inscriptions as funer ary curses

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and many such interpretations duly feature in the corpus edition of older runic texts produced by Krause and Jankuhn. Schulte (2013, 122) simi larly cites Page (1987, 30) who claims that some early rune stone inscrip tions in-clude magical features that seem to have been intended to “keep the grave from desecration or the corpse in the grave”, much as if the Hoggan vik sequences represent some sort of magical threat arraigned against thieves or haunting. Page, however, was clearly referring to the appearance of the etymologically controversial magico-religious term alu as the sole form recorded on the Elgesem runestone and the palin drome sueus from the Kylver runestone which can both be paralleled by forms that appear in amuletic epigraphy (KJ 57 and KJ 1, respectively). Early runic alu is a relatively common term in bracteate texts and a similar palindrome to the Kyl ver form sueus is reflected in the Roman-letter sequence siususuis which appears on the medallion imitation from Kälder (IK 286).

Yet few of the texts of Nordén’s grave-haunting type feature non-lexi-cal sequences and nothing directly comparable to the Hogganvik forms aaasrpkf and aarpaa is known from any of the bracteates. The first expres-sion is somewhat reminiscent of the sequence aụþrkf pre served on the Roskilde bracteate (Hauck and Heizmann 2003) which seems to re pre sent a scrambled form of fuþark, with the a moved to where the equivalent char-acter, A, appears in the Roman abecedarium and the f-rune taking the place where the corresponding letter, F, comes in the Latin pedagogical ordering. A more recent bracteate find from Stavnsager simi larly features a spelling aalul that includes comparable letter doubling but appears to re pre sent an irregular form of the common early runic charm word alu (Ax boe and Imer 2012). Rather than comparing with attested brac teate sequences, however, Schulte (2010, 53 f.; 2013, 123) cites the evidence of inscrip tions such as the transitional-runic Ällerstad memo rial which ends with a sequence kk︲kiiii︲kkk that is often taken to be magical (KJ 59). Triple repe tition (such as kkk) is often connected with magical and religious expres sions, in what West (2007, 106) characterises as “litur gical-magical” iteration. Such repetitions are also reflected in some younger runic texts where their context is more clearly magical — e.g. the three i-runes of the eleventh-century amulet from Sigtuna which has been read as iii isiR þis isiR ‘iii ice, these ice’ in the inscription (Eriksson and Zett er holm 1933; MacLeod and Mees 2006, 118). But Krause (in KJ 59) instead inter preted the final Ällerstad sequence as a form of cryptic runes, taking kk︲kiiii︲kkk to represent a coded form of the com mon early runic brac teate term alu. His derivation, however, relies on the coding system of so-called is-runes developed for the sixteen-character younger futhark, and hence seems quite implausibly anachronistic.


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There appear to be four possible interpretations of such expres-sions — either as abbreviations, coded sequences, linguistically meaning-less expressions or magical letter orderings. Knirk and Schulte assume that the last possibility is the most likely at Hogganvik, relying on the ap-proach to such sequences advocated by Düwel for the irregular spellings attested on the Migration Age bracteates. But the difficult Hog gan vik expressions are only broadly paralleled on the bracteates and the Hoggan-vik inscription shows no other sign that it was intended to be magical. In stead, it features elements that are not reflected in other early runic magico-religious inscriptions, but that are typical of memorial texts. The characteristic features of early runic magical inscriptions are names (and longer naming expressions), item descriptions, letter sequences (often futhark orderings), “charm” words (such as early runic alu) and magical sym bols (such as swastikas) — but not possessive genitive anthroponyms and locativising prepositional phrases (MacLeod and Mees 2004, 2006, 71–101). The inscription on the early Nordic Kylver stone is generally thought to be magical as it features a futhark row and a tree-like symbol (as well as the palindrome sueus), while the appearance of alu as the sole term on the Elgesem stone is unambiguously cultic or magical. The Kylver and Elge sem texts do not feature memorial formulas or vocabulary and are typologically unlike the Hogganvik memorial which is otherwise quite clearly to be associated formulaically with other, non-magical runestone inscrip tions. The Hogganvik memorial seems to represent a typical com-mem o rative expression supplemented by some non-lexical sequences that may or may not be magical and which from a Roman perspective seem unlikely to represent a magico-religious addition to the early runic memorial habit.

Abbreviations and repetitionsThe most orthographically regular manner by which to explain an un pro-nounceable sequence of letterforms is as an abbreviation. Standard epi-graphic formulas often appear abbreviated in Latin epigraphy, sequences such as Dis Manibus ‘to the spirits of the dead’, sit tibi terra levis ‘may the earth lie lightly upon you’, hoc monumentum heredem non sequitur ‘this tomb does not pass to the heir’ and sua pecunia ‘from his own money’ often appearing as DM, STTL, HMHNS or SP (Keppie 1991, 138 f.). Some early Nordic bracteate texts also appear to feature abbreviations such as r(ūnōz) ‘runes’ and f(aihidō) ‘I drew, I decorated’ which are not clearly motivated on magico-religious grounds (KJ 132 and KJ 134) and the

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sequence ih on the Nordhuglo stone has long been thought to represent a similar abbreviation. Imer (2011, 22) argues that an abbreviation w(orahtō) or w(ritu) is to be understood on the Gårdlösa fibula (KJ 12) and Schneider (1975, 116) similarly suggested than an abbreviation h(aitē) was intended on the Thorsberg shield boss (KJ 21).

Some unpronounceable sequences of runes, however, can evidently be ascribed to coding rather than abbreviation. The representation of the patently magical þistil, mistil, kistil (or ‘thistle, mistletoe, casket’) for-mula as :þmk:iii:sss:ttt:iii:lll on the eleventh-century Ledberg stone is the most transparent instance of coding in Northern memorial epigraphy (Moltke 1985, 171; MacLeod and Mees 2006, 145 f.). Similarly, the reference to ṣtᴀḅᴀ þria | fff in the transitional inscription on the Gummarp stone (KJ 95) is often taken to indicate a triple repetition of the rune name *fehu ‘cattle, wealth’ (MacLeod and Mees 2006, 112) and authors such as Krause put considerable effort into promoting similarly ideographic or coded interpretations of obscure sequences in early runic texts. Clear references to *fehu, however, are otherwise unparalleled in early runic epigraphy, whereas employments of *faihjan ‘draw, decorate, colour’ are quite common (with an abbreviated form possibly evidenced on the Femø brac teate). Hence an interpretation of the Gummarp inscription (which was destroyed in a fire in the eighteenth century and is only known today from illustrations) with more parallels is [afətr] Haþuwoləfa sat(t)e; staba þri(j)a f(āhda), f(āhda), f(āhda), ‘Set up in memory of Haþuwoləfr; three staves I drew, I drew, I drew’. Commonly used terms such as fecit ‘made’ are routinely abbreviated in Latin epigraphy and are represented in some of the maker’s marks which appear on weapons imported into the North during the later Roman Iron Age (Imer 2011). Indeed a double abbreviation FF is preserved in several Roman inscriptions as an abbreviation for fecerunt ‘(they) made’ (e.g. CIL, 3: no. 4197) and doubling and tripling is regularly used in Roman epigraphy to indicate plurality. A memorial inscrip tion from Lyon, for instance, ends with the sequence PPP CCC SSS AAA DDD which is clearly a tripled abbreviation of the common Latin memo rial formula p(onendum) c(uraverunt) s(ub) a(scia) d(edicaverunt) ‘(all three) caused (this) to be placed (and) dedicated while it was under construction’ (CIL, 13: no. 2016). A similar threefold repetition of a form of the fabricatory verb *faihjan (‘three staves they drew’?) would seem — from a Roman perspective — to be the best paralleled inter pre-tation of the difficult Gummarp sequence.

A comparably “sceptical” approach might accordingly be taken to the difficult Ällerstad sequence which also has the impression of an abbre vi-


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ation about it, although an alternative procedure involving parallels in the non-runic world may be to compare it with the numeric sequences that often appear in Roman texts — as indications of time, weight, distance, price or the like (Gordon 1983, 44–49). With its four i-runes, the sequence looks much like it is numeric and Roman memorials sometimes feature temporal expressions such as vixit ann(os) vi, m(ensibus) viii, d(iebus) xxii, ‘lived for six years, eight months and twenty-two days’ (Gordon 1983, no. 99). Given the origin of the Roman numeral v in a representation of a hand, the Ällerstad sequence kk︲kiiii︲kkk (where each of the k-runes takes the transitional form «) could be interpreted as a similar attempt to indicate three numbers: 10 (years), 9 (months and) 15 (days).

Schulte, however, compares the Hogganvik sequences to the non-lexical form aaaaaaaazzznnn∗bmuttt on the Lindholmen amulet (KJ 29), an expression which has often been connected with the medieval magical tradition of þurs þríu ‘three þ-runes’ (or thurses), ása átta ‘eight a-runes’ (or Æsir) and nauðir níu ‘nine n-runes’ (or needs); see MacLeod and Mees (2006, 121 f.). Yet precisely what an inscription on a piece of worked horn or bone might have to do with the early Nordic memorial habit is not made clear by Schulte. Alliterating expressions such as þurs þríu may instead be related to the younger runic practice of indicating the names of the Old Norse numerals in abbreviated forms: i.e. as e(inn), t(veir), þ(rír), f(jórir), f(imm), s(ex), s(jau), á(tta), n(íu), t(íu) etc. (MacLeod and Mees 2006, 147 f.). In younger runic employment, a þ-rune (called þurs) could in this case serve as an abbreviation for þríu ‘three’, an a-rune for átta ‘eight’ and an n-rune for níu ‘nine’, and a tradition where such alliterating numerical pairs were taken to be magical appears to have developed in medieval times. But nothing similar to the younger numeric employment is clearly evidenced in older epigraphy, and only three (or perhaps four) n-runes (i.e. rather than nine) are preserved in the Lindholmen inscription (which Krause nonetheless persisted in interpreting as a long sequence of ideographs). The irregular sequences on the Hogganvik stone show no obvious similarity with the repeated runes found on the Lindholmen amulet which can alternatively be taken as a sort of coded term or name (perhaps Az(i)n[a]mu(n)d(az), if not a reversed form of tumbnaz ‘of the tip’; cf. ON tumba ‘tumble’, OHG zumba ‘stub, tip, penis’) and appear in a context that clearly supports a magical interpretation (Grønvik 1996, 70–73, MacLeod and Mees 2006, 92). A more mundane explanation for the Hog gan vik sequences would seem to be much better paralleled in early runic memorial epigraphy.

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Memorial and magical inscriptions

A rather clearer comparison, however, may be with the similarly not-immediately interpretable expression that appears on the obverse of the Krog sta stone (KJ 100). It is taken by MacLeod and Mees (2006, 110) to be magico-religious, yet even this rather minimalist runestone text can be under stood as a member of a well-attested early runic sub-genre of memorial monuments. Moreover, Imer (2015, 154) has dated the Krogsta monument (by means of the shape of its e-rune) to the late Roman Iron Age, much like the similarly funerary Hogganvik stone — i.e. to the period A.D. c. 150/160–375/400.

The most outstanding feature of the Krogsta stone is the picture of a man that it bears, the representation having its arms extended in a manner which in both ancient and early Christian contexts is usually regarded as a representation of praying (Klauser 1959; 1960). This orans or ‘one who prays’ posture taken by the figure suggests that the person represented at Krog sta was considered very pious (perhaps even a pagan gudja or priest). The picture is also accompanied by two inscriptions, one on the front of the stone and one on its back. Only the text on the reverse of the stone seems immediately readable, however, and even it appears to be deficient in one striking manner.

The readable Krogsta text is sïainaz, a sequence that has usually been taken as a mistake for the common early runic term stainaz ‘stone’ with the (comparatively rare) ï-rune apparently standing erroneously for what was meant to be a t-rune. The other Krogsta expression seems quite uninterpretable lexically, however, reading mwsïeij∗, a perhaps incomplete sequence. It seems that a slightly substandard text on one side of the Krogsta stone has been complemented by an even less regular one on the other.

Yet the most characteristic feature of the Krogsta inscription would seem to be its labelling of the associated stone. This behaviour suggests (given the memorials which feature texts of the genitive name plus object descrip tion type) that the more obviously lexical Krogsta sequence should be interpreted as ‘(this pious man’s) stone’ — i.e. as a mixed pictorial/orthographic reflection of the ‘NN’s stone/grave’ formula typical of the early runic memorial habit. The orans figure seems to serve as the pictorial equivalent of an anthroponym, the labelling of the object representing a kind of deixis (or linguistic “pointing”) which (equally) stands in contrast to the usual tendency in more literate cultures for the focus of such labelling to be on naming the owner of a find rather than the associated object.


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Typically, however, the difficult sequence which accompanies the orans representation at Krogsta is treated as completely opaque by scholars. Yet the use of the ï-rune where we would expect a runic t on the more immediately interpretable side suggests that a similar reading should be entertained for the sequence on the orans face of the stone. This, then, as Seebold (1994, 79) suggests could be taken as evidence that mwsïeij∗ was supposed to be understood as featuring a sequence steij∗, a form which he links with an obliquely inflected variant of stainaz. Nonetheless if it is to be interpreted in such a manner, a spelling steij∗ would appear more likely to represent a development of Proto-Germanic *stajanan (< Indo-European *steh2-, *sth2-eh1 i̯ e/o -) ‘stand, remain’; cf. OHG stēn, stān, Old Saxon stān, Latin stō, stāre, Oscan staít, stahínt, Old Church Slavonic stojǫ, stojati and the younger runic stændr stæinn ‘stands the stone’ formula (Sihler 1995, 529 f.; Källström 2007, 52). Given the early *j-loss in *stajanan (Thór halls dóttir 1993, 35 f.), steij∗ looks as if it may continue analogical vocalism (cf. OHG stēn < *stai-). If so, the inscription on the orans side of the Krogsta stone could possibly be read as mw stæij[u], with mw representing an abbreviation — i.e. a typical fabricant (NN statuit or ‘NN set up’) expression and not a magical sequence of a type not clearly paralleled elsewhere in runic epigraphy.

The Krogsta expression mwsïeij∗ may thus represent an irregularly expressed but typical mundane formation, and hence like the sequence kk︲kiiii︲kkk on the Ällestad memorial may not be a good example of a magical sequence on an early runic memorial. Yet some of the older and transitional runestone inscriptions are undoubtedly magico-religious in character, the Elgesem monument being found in a burial mound, much as the Kylver stone was found in a grave. These texts, however, clearly accord to the magico-religious genre described by MacLeod and Mees (2004; 2006, 71–101) and not to those usually attested in early runic memorial epigraphy. The date at which magico-religious textual features first found their way into the runic memorial habit is unclear. As it is possible to interpret both the Krogsta and the Ällerstad inscriptions as wholly mundane, albeit in part abbreviated or otherwise orthographically irregular memorial expressions, a similar opacity might well be present in the Hogganvik inscription.

What is clear about the Hogganvik sequences aaasrpkf and aarpaa, however, is that they are quite different than the Kylver stone’s palindrome sueus or other kinds of magical letter sequences known from ancient magical sources, such as the row of Greek vowels (αηιουω) found on a Jasper amulet of uncertain provenance now in the National Museum in

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Copen hagen (Mackeprang 1940, 94 and fig. 16, p. 96).1 Nonetheless some letter doubling is evident in the Hogganvik sequence aarpaa in a manner comparable to that which appears in the Stavnsager bracteate’s aalul and the names uuigaz and ssigaduz on the Väsby and Svarteborg amulets (KJ 128 and KJ 47, i.e. IK 241 and IK 181, respectively; Wagner 2009). Cer-tain kinds of partially and completely non-lexical sequences such as abece-daria and palindromes were used in both classical and early Germanic magic, but it is only the letter doubling in the Hogganvik sequences aaasrpkf and aarpaa that makes them seem potentially magical. Taken from the perspective of Roman funerary epigraphy, however, the two sequences seem more likely to represent abbreviated forms than they do magical expressions.

The Hogganvik sequencesAs the Roman use of letter repetition suggests, the doubling and tripling of runic staves may not be clear evidence of a magical use of early Nordic writing. The difficult Hogganvik forms are evidently similar to each other as each features a repetition of a-runes and the sequence rp, and the Tune memorial (KJ 72) records a suitably funerary alliterating sequence arbija . . . arbijano ‘inheritance . . . of the inheritors’ (Mees 2015). Yet the sequence rp would be more difficult to account for than aa as an abbreviation, as terms beginning with /p/ are typically restricted to loanwords in Proto-Ger manic. And while an early North Germanic text comparable to sua pecunia might well have featured a reference to an early form of Old Norse penningar ‘pennies, money’, nothing similar is attested anywhere in runic epigraphy.

Nonetheless the triple repetition in aaasrpkf is reminiscent of the ab-bre viation AAA for annorum ‘years’ recently found on an amphora from Cologne (AE 2009: no. 918b) and the latter part of the difficult Hoggan vik sequence is quite similar to the Roman memorial style d(e) s(ua) p(ecunia) c(uravit) f(aciendum) ‘paid for it with her own money’ (CIL, 1: no. 1688). The other Hogganvik form aarpaa, however, is also reminiscent of OE earp ‘dark, dusky’, a scribal or apophonic variant of OE eorp ‘idem’, and ON jarpr ‘swarthy, brown’; cf. OE Earpwald, Eorpwald. After all, a similar o-grade form is continued by Greek ὀρϕνός ‘dark, dusky’ and the Illerup shield mount features a semantically comparable anthroponym swarta ‘Black one’ (Moltke 1985, 95). Consequently the sequence aarpaa looks

1 My thanks to Peter Penz of the National Museum in Copenhagen for this reference.


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as if it may best be presumed to be another anthroponym, the fourth to be recognised on the Hogganvik stone.

Moreover, *erpaz ‘dark, dusky’ has long been thought to represent the colour term from which the early North Germanic animal name *erbaz ‘wolverine’ (and hence Hogganvik’s erafaz) derives. Their clear morphological relationship suggests that the two colour terms represent the detritus of an older Kluge’s law n-stem *erbōn, *arbnaz (arp paz), the colour and animal descriptions having the same relationship as Greek ὀρϕνός ‘dark, dusky’ has to ὄρϕος ‘dusky perch’ (Kluge 1884; Wood 1902, 71; Krahe and Meid 1969, 138 f.; Kroonen 2011, 55–84 and 133–46). The form aarpaa does not feature an epenthetic vowel comparable to that seen in erafaz, but this may merely be a sign that it is the fricative (i.e. not just the juncture with /r/) which has occasioned the epenthesis. Thus the sequence aarpaa looks as if it may have been related to the cognomen erafaz.

Letter doubling appears often enough in older runic texts that it seems to have been used occasionally as an emphasising strategy similar to ligaturing, the employment of mirror runes and other comparable forms of orthographic highlighting — hence, presumably, the appearance of letter repetition not just in names but also in more remarkable expressions such as the Lindholmen sequence aaaaaaaazzznnn∗bmuttt (MacLeod 2006). If not a contraction of a name like Earpwald, Arpa however seems to represent a nickname based on the hair colour of the man who bore it, the cognomen ‘wolverine’ presumably (at least in part) being similarly inspired by the physical appearance of Naudigastiz. Schulte (2013, 122 f.) suggests that the designation ‘wolverine’ may also have indicated Naudigastiz’s elite social standing as references to fur coats appear in later Germanic anthroponyms (such as ON Biarnheðinn and OHG Mardhetin). But the sequence aarpaa is immediately followed by inananaḅoz, much as if Arpa (rather than Kelbaþewaz) is being described as in(n)ana nabōz — i.e. Arpa was the name that Naudigastiz was known by ‘at home, indoors’. Consequently, the style erafaz ‘Wolverine’ may have been Naudigastiz’s public (and elite) cognomen, aarpaa ‘Dark one, Dusky one’ his more colloquial nickname among members of his immediate household.

If so, the earlier sequence aaasrpkf may also represent another ortho graphically unconventional reference to Naudigastiz. The final rune f could be understood as an abbreviated reference to Naudi gastiz’s function as the inscriber or commissioner of the Hogganvik memorial, with aaasrpkf an abbreviated reference to Arpa writing (f(aihidē)) the inscrip tion on Kelbaþewaz’s memorial stone. Indeed aaasrp could well

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reflect a scrambled or irregular form of arpa, as if the sequence were meant to be read partly in a retrograde manner: i.e. as sa aarp k f, sā Arp(a) K(elbaþewas) f(aihidē), ‘the one Arpa son of Kelbaþewaz drew’; cf. sā þat bəriutiþ ‘the one that breaks (this)’ in the curse on the Stentoften stone (KJ 96). Yet the medial letters of the most difficult Hoggan vik sequence are not clearly to be associated with an early-runic memorial style commonly attested elsewhere, so it may simply be better to leave aaasrpkf uninterpreted (i.e. as an unexplained sequence) and not to draw any conclusions from the unexpected form at all.

In contrast to Roman memorials, however, a more obvious characteristic of the Hogganvik inscription is that it gives considerably more space to describing the identity of the person who raised the stone than it does the memorialised. Some of the early Nordic memorial inscriptions only mention the name of the dead, but there are others, such as the Nordhuglo text, which only seem to mention the name of the commissioner of the memorial. Still others spend rather more time describing who the manu-factures or (in the case of the Tune memorial) who the inheritors of the memorialised’s estate were. This unexpected feature suggests that a key function of some of the Iron Age monuments was to commemorate the act of raising the memorial as much as it was to celebrate the memory of the deceased. Ogam stones in contrast never feature indications of who raised them or who wrote (or benefited from) their early Irish inscriptions and Roman funerary epigraphs, although often mentioning the name of the commemorator, similarly focus mainly on the name and situation (titles, age at death, etc.) of the memorialised (Keppie 1991, 106 f.; Saller and Shaw 1984; McManus 1997, 51).

Yet MacMullen (1982) talks of the Imperial Roman epigraphic habit in terms of its “sense of audience” and Meyer (1996) explains the rapid growth in monumental epigraphy in the Roman provinces (the production of which is often thought to have peaked in the late second century) as due to a desire of the new, provincial elites of the Empire to demon-strate their Latinity. Speidel (2015, 335–37) similarly notes the habit of self-representation common in the epigraphs associated with Roman veterans and soldiers, particularly in texts which demonstrate the social standing of the commissioners of an inscription. It sometimes seems to have been the supplying of the name of the erector of the memorial that was considered most important in older runic tradition, as if the practice of raising runestones (rather than testifying to the deeds and social standing of the dead) was seen to be the most significant aspect of early Nordic commemoration. The main emotional display represented by the


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Hoggan vik monument seems to have been focussed on the (first-person) com memorator, not the (genitival) memorialised — and this inversion of textual focus so different from what typically applies in Roman funerary epigraphy appears to represent evidence for a remarkably self-predicative or agentive aspect to early Scandinavian commemoration.

ConclusionTaken from a textual and pragmatic perspective, the inscriptions that appear on early Nordic funerary runestones seem quite different in many ways to those from the Viking and later periods where a stronger sense of epigraphic habit had evidently led to the development of a greater level of textual standardisation. The formulaic elements that appear in older runic memorials are often very simple possessive and labelling expressions of a kind that suggests deictic, oral language of a form reasonably to be expected in an only marginally literate culture. Other aspects of the early runic memorial texts typically represent rhetorical expansions, whether adding comments to the obvious memorialising context, naming the erector of the monument or adding some sort of elaboration to the name of the commissioner or the memorialised. Minimalistic from an emotional perspective, such extensions can also evidently include expressing part of the text in manners which are difficult to interpret today.

In the Hogganvik inscription, these extensions include a reference to in(n)ana nabōz, a prepositional phrase that seems best to be translated as ‘at home, indoors’. The phrase is immediately preceded by an orthographically unex pected form aarpaa that looks much like the expected o-grade equivalent of the Old English onomastic theme Eorp-, Earp- ‘dark, dusky’. A third, even less regular sequence is also represented on the stone, but whether it represents an abbreviated, coded or even magical sequence remains unclear. No clearly magical sequences are found on other early runic memorials, however, suggesting that an abbreviated or otherwise irregular text was intended by the carver.

Where younger memorial texts are often so standardised as to be predictable, the older runic memorial inscriptions are often much more interesting and varied. Many of the comments and styles found on early runic memorials are repeated often enough that their general typological character can be reconstructed. Difficult sequences found in early runic texts are also often thought to be magical. But the recent focus on epigraphic habits first articulated by the classicist MacMullen and the history of emotions approach promoted especially by the medievalist

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Rosen wein asks runologists to look at early memorials primarily in terms of audience, genre and emotion, and in this way bring runic studies more clearly into accord with the mainstream of contemporary epigraphic historiography.

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Die Runeninschrift auf der Gürtelschnalle von Pforzen

als Zeugnis der germanischen Heldensage?

Wolfgang Beck (Friedrich Schiller University Jena)

AbstractThe pair Aigil and Aïlrun of the runic inscription on the Pforzen silver buckle (A.D. 570–600) is usually compared to the heroic couple Egill and Ǫlrún of Vǫlundar kviða and Þiðreks saga, although there is no etymological reason for this. The collocation seems to be justified by the well-known phenomenon that he ro ic names often do not correspond exactly to their equivalents in a differ-ent lan guage. The identification of aigil with Egill and a͡ïlrun with Ǫlrún has led to conclusions that go far beyond the basic evidence of the find and (the literal inter pretation of) its inscription; its text is considered to be one of the oldest testimonies of Germanic heroic poetry taking its way from Conti nental Ale mannia to the Scandinavian North (or the other way round?). Attempts have been made to link the Pforzen inscription with the pictorial programme of the rune-inscribed Auzon (Franks) whalebone casket as well as with the Old English epic Beowulf. Prior to acceptance of the Pforzen inscription as a testi-mony of Germanic heroic legend, further investigation is necessary. It must be considered how the inscription fits into the system, the development, the trans mission and the mediality of Germanic heroic legend.

Keywords: Continental runic inscriptions, South Germanic runic inscriptions, Pforzen silver buckle, Germanic heroic poetry, Germanic heroic legend

Im Jahr 1992 wurde im Grab (Nr. 239) eines fränkischen Kriegers auf dem alemannischen Friedhof in Pforzen eine silberne Gürtelschnalle romanisch-mediterraner Provenienz entdeckt, die anhand archäologischer

Beck, Wolfgang. “Die Runeninschrift auf der Gürtelschnalle von Pforzen als Zeugnis der germanischen Heldensage?” Futhark: International Journal of Runic Studies 7 (2016, publ. 2017): 29–45.

English: “The runic inscription on the Pforzen silver buckle as testimony of Germanic heroic legend?”

© 2017 Wolfgang Beck. This is an open-access article distributed under the terms of the CC BY 4.0 International License

and available free of charge at http://urn.kb.se/resolve?urn=urn:nbn:se:uu:diva-309052.

http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/http://urn.kb.se/resolve?urn=urn:nbn:se:uu:diva-309052

30 • Wolfgang Beck

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Kriterien auf die Mitte des 6. Jahrhunderts datiert werden kann und von einem wohlhabenden Krieger getragen wurde, der im letzten Drittel des 6. Jahr hunderts bestattet wurde (vgl. Babucke 1999, 22–24). Die Gürtel-schnalle trägt auf der Vorderseite eine Inschrift mit 27 sicher lesbaren Runen zeichen. Die Runen der zweizeiligen, rechtsläufigen und mit Wort-trennern versehenen Inschrift sind vergleichsweise gut zu lesen. Die Inschrift wird heute nahezu übereinstimmend (Düwel 1993, 10; 1997, 281; 1999b, 37–43; 2008, 19; Nedoma 2004b, 158; Graf 2010, 89; Findell 2012, 446–448; Waldispühl 2013, 298 f.) gelesen als:

aigil∙andi∙a͡ïlrun’ ≡ | ltahu∙gasokun ≡

Am Ende der ersten Zeile ist eine Ritzung angebracht, die wie ein Schräg-gitter aussieht und überwiegend als nicht runisches Zeichen gedeutet wird. Ein Flechtband-Ornament steht am Ende der zweiten Zeile. Die Tatsache der pla ka tiven Anbringung der Inschrift auf der Vorderseite der Schnalle, die trotz Beschä di gung weiter benutzt wurde (fehlender Dorn und abge-brochene Öse), und die Alliteration in der ersten Zeile, die man als Anvers einer ger ma nischen stabreimenden Langzeile vom Typus der Inschrift auf dem Gold horn von Gallehus (KJ 43: ek⁞hlewagastiz⁞holtijaz⁞horna⁞ tawido⁞ ‚Ich Hlewa gast, Holtes Sohn, das Horn verfertigte‘) verstehen kann, haben zu Deu tungen dieser Inschrift geführt, die durch ihre Versuche der Kontextualisierung und der Etablierung eines Sitzes im Leben einen erheblichen Mehr wert im Ver gleich zur bloßen Überlieferung von germanischen Personen namen haben.

Die Deutung der InschriftEine Deutung der Inschrift ist aus mehreren Gründen problematisch. Zum einen weist das Verb gasokun (zu got. sakan, ahd. sahhan, ga-sahhan, as. sakan, ae. sacan, afries. seca < urgerm. *sakana-) eine polyvalente Semantik auf, die in den Einzeldeutungen jeweils unterschiedlich akzentuiert wurde: Bedeu tungs angaben reichen von ‚verfluchen‘ (Düwel 1997, 289), ‚schelten, drohen‘ (Wagner 1999b, 94 f.), ‚beschwichtigen, bedrohen‘ (Schwab 1999, 78), ‚verwerfen‘ (Seebold 1999, 88 f.) bis hin zu ‚kämpfen, streiten‘ (Ne-doma 1999, 106; Eichner 1999, 112; Grønvik 2003, 180 f.; Marold 2004, 224 f.; Nedoma 2004a, 360 f.). Zum anderen erscheint die Runen sequenz ltahu als sprach unwirklich, da in den germanischen Sprachen ein Silben anlaut /lt/ nicht existiert. Die Inschrift auf der Gürtel schnalle von Pforzen weist aller dings einen hohen schrift syste matischen Elabo riert heits grad auf, zudem spricht die Alliteration für eine bewusste Konzeption (vgl. Waldis-

Die Runeninschrift auf der Gürtelschnalle von Pforzen • 31

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pühl 2013, 228–230). Sie dürfte daher zu denjenigen lexikalischen In-schriften zu zählen sein, bei denen eine Gesamtdeutung möglich sein kann und bei der man für die problematische Runensequenz ltahu nicht mit Schrift imitation oder einer nicht-lexikalischen Runenfolge rechnen muss.

Die Deutungen der Inschrift von Pforzen (die hier alle im Einzelnen weder vorgestellt noch diskutiert werden sollen) ruhen auf einer Reihe von Prämissen. Der Runensequenz ltahu kann „nur über mehr oder weniger kunstreiche Emendationen sprachlicher Sinn“ (Graf 2010, 89) zuge sprochen werden; gegen jeden Vorschlag lassen sich runo logische und sprach wissen schaftliche Argumente vorbringen. Die Vor schläge lassen sich folgender maßen systematisieren:

• Bei Annahme der Regel nach Grønvik (vgl. Grønvik 1985, 186), der-zu folge Vokale vor sonoren Liquida unterdrückt werden konnten, ergibt sich [i]ltahu bzw. [a]ltahu (Nedoma 1999, 107; 2004a, 354). Dagegen lassen sich sprach wissen schaft liche und runo logische Gründe vorbringen (siehe unten und vgl. Findell 2012, 131–133, 193–195).

• Die initiale l-Rune repräsentiert eine versteckte Binderune i͡l, dies führt ebenfalls zur Lesung i͡ltahu (Eichner 1999, 112 f.). Mit dem Kon zept versteckter Binderunen (schwedisch inskrivna runor) sollte zurück haltend argu mentiert werden (vgl. MacLeod 2000); ob Binde-runen mit einer i-Rune überhaupt existieren, bleibt zu diskutieren (vgl. Düwel 2008, 10).

• Vor der Runensequenz ist eine a-Rune vergessen worden, daher ist [a]l tahu zu lesen (Looijenga 2003, 254 f.) oder zu [a]ltahu zu substi-tuieren (Beck 2010, 209).

• Die initiale Runenfolge lt ist als Binderune für e͡l zu verstehen, dies führt zur Lesung e͡lahu (Düwel 1993, 10; 1997, 284–286; 1999b, 47 f.; Marold 2004, 225–227) oder e͡la[a]hu (Schwab 1999, 67). Der Ansatz einer Binderune e͡l ist paläo graphisch nicht haltbar (vgl. Waldispühl 2013, 298 f.).

• Die ersten beiden Runen sind als Begriffsrunen für l und t zu lesen, damit erhält man l[agu] t[iwa] ahu (Seebold 1999, 89 f.). Mit dem Kon zept von Begriffsrunen sollte zurückhaltend argu men tiert wer-den (vgl. zuletzt Griffiths 2013, 121–131).

• Es liegt eine vertauschte Runenfolge für hulta vor (Reichert 1998, 68). Diese Annahme wird nicht weiter konkretisiert, aus sprach wissen-schaft licher Sicht bleiben sowohl ein Anschluss an urgerm. *χulþaz ‚hold‘ als auch an urgerm. *χultan ‚Holz, Wald‘ problematisch.


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• Das Schräggitter der ersten Runenzeile repräsentiert ein Binde runen-kon glomerat a͡ŋi, somit ist zeilenübergreifend a͡ŋiltahu (Wagner 1995, 105; 1999b, 93) zu lesen. Obwohl diese Deutung als einzige eine stim mige Gesamt lesung der Inschrift ergibt, wird das Schräg gitter aus verschiedenen Gründen (vgl. Pieper 1999, 32; Nedoma 2004b, 158; Graf 2010, 91–98; Waldispühl 2013, 298 f.) als orna men tales Ele-ment gedeutet.

Die aus diesen unterschiedlichen Lesungen resul tie renden Deutungen lassen sich in inhaltlicher Hinsicht folgender maßen syste ma tisieren:

• Keine innere Deutung wird aus der hypothetischen Lesung *hulta gene riert (vgl. Reichert 1998, 68).

• Im weiteren Sinne religiöse Deutungen: - Die Lesung e͡lahu (zu ahd. elah/elacho ‚Elch, Elen, Hirschart mit

einem Bocksbart, Bockshirsch, Brandhirsch, Auerochs‘, vgl. Lloyd et al. 1998, 2: Sp. 1029) führt zu einer Deutung der Inschrift als Zauber spruch, die aus dem Schnallenträger einen besseren Hirsch-Jäger machen soll (MacLeod und Mees 2006, 19 f.).

- Die Lesung e͡lahu (zu ahd. elah/elacho, vgl. unmittelbar oben) führt zu einer Deutung der Inschrift als Absage an den paganen Ritus der Hirsch ver kleidung (cervulum facere; Düwel 1999b, 53) oder konträr dazu zu einer Deutung als Christus symbol (Grøn vik 2003, 183).

- Die Lesung e͡la[a]hu führt zu einer Deutung der Inschrift als pagane oder christliche Formel zur Entdämonisierung eines Aal-Schlangen-Gewässers (Schwab 1999, 78 f.).

- Die Lesung l[agu] t[īwa] ahu führt zu einer Deutung der Inschrift als Abschwörungs formel für eine Wassergottheit, vergleichbar der Nerthus-Gottheit (Seebold 1999, 89 f.).

- Die Lesung a͡ŋiltahu führt zu einer Deutung der Inschrift als An rufung/Beschwörung einer den idisi des Ersten Merse burger Zauber spruchs vergleichbaren Gestalt (Wagner 1999b, 97).

- Die Lesung [a]ltahu als Verb (1. Sing. Präs. Ind.) führt zu einer Deu tung der Inschrift als Losung für einen Krieger „verbunden mit der Konno tation des Zauberischen“ (Beck 2010, 210).

• Deutungen im Kontext der germanischen Heldensage (siehe gleich unten).

Die Deutung der Runeninschrift auf der Gürtelschnalle von Pforzen als Zeug nis der germanischen Heldensage zieht ihre Berechtigung aus der Tat sache des von Andreas Heusler (1910) zuerst beschriebenen Phäno mens


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von Helden namen in unterschiedlicher Lautgestalt (z. B. Sîvrit — Sigurðr, Wielant — Vǫlundr, Horant — Heorrenda/Hjarrandi, Kriemhilt — Guðrún), mit dessen Hilfe die Namen aigil und a͡ïlrun zu dem aus der Vǫlundar-kviða und der Þiðreks saga bekannten Paar Egill und Ǫlrún zu stellen sind (vgl. Marold 1996, 1 f.), obwohl in etymologischer Hinsicht weder aigil (urgerm. *ai̯ǥilaz, vgl. Wagner 1999a, 117) zu Egill (urgerm. *aǥilaz) noch a͡ïlrun (urgerm. *ai̯l-rūnō) zu Ǫlrún (urgerm. *alu-rūnō) gehört. Es ist daher auch nicht davon auszugehen, dass die beiden Namen träger nach dem Per sonal der ger manischen Helden sage benannt worden sein könnten (vgl. Fischer 2001, 184; 2005, 178). Die Lesungen alurun oder allrun/all[u]run (Düwel 1997, 281, Anm. 3; Pieper 1999, 30 f.; Marold 2004, 221–223) würden die „Namendiskussion vereinfachen“ (Düwel 1997, 281, Anm. 3), weil mit alurun/all[u]run exakte Übereinstimmung zumindest bei dem Namen Ǫlrún gegeben wäre. Die Lesungen alurun oder allrun/all[u]run scheiden jedoch aus paläographischen Gründen aus, nicht zuletzt weil Doppelschreibungen von Runen eher die Ausnahme sind (kunni auf dem Runenknochen 1 von der Unterweser, vgl. Findell 2012, 343; ksamella auf dem Schemel von Wremen, vgl. Findell 2012, 486 f.). Das Paar Egill und Ǫlrún gehört zu den Neben figuren der Wieland sage: in der Vǫlundar kviða kommt es zu einer neun jährigen Verbindung der Brüder Vǫlundr, Egill und Slagfiðr mit den Wal küren Hervǫr, Ǫlrún und Svanhvít, die im weiteren Verlauf des Liedes aber keine Rolle mehr spielt, hier verschwindet Egill auf der Suche nach seiner ver schwundenen Frau: Austr skreið Egill at Ǫlrúno ‚Ost wärts schritt Egill, um Ölrun zu suchen‘ (Vǫlundarkviða, Str. 4). Im Velents þáttr der Þiðreks saga tritt Egill in der bekannten Rolle als Meister schütze auf (Apfel schuss und Schuss auf den entfliegenden Bruder Vǫlundr), Ǫlrún ist keine handelnde Person, sie ist nur indirekt durch die Namens nennung Ǫlrúnar-Egill präsent. Schließlich ist darauf hinzuweisen, dass auf dem Deckel des Runen kästchens von Auzon (Franks casket) ein Bogen schütze, durch eine Runeninschrift als ægili identifiziert, zu sehen ist, der ein Haus, worin sich eine Frau befindet, gegen feindliche Angreifer verteidigt (vgl. Page 1999, 177). Ein Zusammenhang mit der auf der Vorderseite des Kästchens dargestellten Wieland-Szene ist unsicher.

Die Deutung der Inschrift von Pforzen als Zeugnis der ger manischen Helden sage beruht zunächst auf der Gleichsetzung des Namen paares aigil und a͡ïlrun mit Egill und Ǫlrún und geht von einer kriegerischen Semantik des Verbs gasokun ‚kämpfen, streiten‘ aus (gedeckt durch Beo wulf, V. 439: fōn wið feonde ond ymb feorh sacan ‚kämpfen gegen den Feind und um das Leben kämpfen‘). Wenn an der Deutung der Runen inschrift auf der Bügel-


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fibel von Mer tingen ieoḳ aun mit ieoḳ zu urgerm. *i̯eu̯kēna- ‚kämpfen‘ fest zuhalten ist (vgl. aber Findell 2012, 186), dann bleibt die kriegerische Semantik von gasokun nicht isoliert im Tableau der südgermanischen Runen inschriften, die, wenn sie eine Kombi nation von Verb und Personen-name bilden, überwiegend Verben aus dem Bereich der Inschriften her-stellung bieten (Neudingen-Baar II, Holzstab [vgl. Findell 2012, 434 f.]: bliþguþ:uraitruna; KJ 144 Freilaubersheim, Bügelfibel: boso:wraetruna; Pforzen II, Einfassungs ring [vgl. Düwel 1999a]: aodliþ:urait:runa, vgl. auch Graf 2011, 227 f.). Die Möglichkeit, die Runen sequenz gasokun als Nomen zu verstehen, wird nur selten in Betracht gezogen (McKinnell et al. 2004, 58; Beck 2010, 209 f.). Diese Annahme beruht wesentlich darauf, in der Runen sequenz ltahu ein präfigiertes Verb (zu got. tahjan ‚reißen, zerren‘) zu sehen, wozu gasokun (zu ahd. gegin-sahho, gi-sahho ‚Gegner‘) als Objekt gehört (Beck 2010, 209 f.). Angesichts der Tatsache, dass die erste Runen zeile zwei Namen nennt, ist eine darauf folgende Verbal form (1. Sing. Präs. Ind.) jedoch unwahrscheinlich.

Wenn gasokun als Verb aufgefasst wird, bleibt unklar, ob das Präfix ga- eine perfektivierende Funktion hat, im soziativen/komi ta tiven Sinn ‚zusammen/gemeinsam kämpfen‘ (vgl. Nedoma 1999, 106) oder im rezi-proken Sinn ‚gegeneinander kämpfen‘ (Eichner 1999, 112) zu deuten ist. Aus gehend von diesen Prämissen wird dann in der Runen sequenz ltahu entweder der Gegner des Paares mit dem Beinamen ‚Hirsch‘ (vgl. Þórir hjǫrtr oder Sigurðr hjǫrtr; Marold 2004, 233) oder jener Ort gesehen, wo der Kampf stattgefunden hat: mit der Lesung elahu[n] als lokaler Dativ ‚im Hirsch‘, wobei an die Halle Heorot aus dem altenglischen Beowulf zu denken wäre (Marold 2004, 233) oder mit der Lesung [i]ltahu/ [a]ltahu als lokaler Dativ ‚an der Ilz (linker Nebenfluss der Donau)‘ (vgl. Nedoma 1999, 107; 2004a, 354) bzw. ‚an der Alz (rechter Nebenfluss des Inn)‘ (vgl. Nedoma 1999, 107). Auch der Modus des Kämpfens wurde aus der Lesung [a]ltahu abgeleitet: zäh gegen alle (vgl. Looijenga 2003, 254 f.) oder „ich zer streue (verwirre) ganz und gar die Gegner“ (Beck 2010, 210).

Die postulierte Namengleichheit der runischen Namen aigil und a͡ïlrun mit den skandinavischen Namen Egill und Ǫlrún ist bislang das ein zige Argument, das für die Verbuchung der Pforzener Inschrift für die ger-manische Heldensage namhaft gemacht wurde. Damit wäre die In schrift von Pforzen das einzige sichere runische Zeugnis ger manischer Helden-sage, denn für andere in diesem Zusammenhang disku tierte Runen-inschriften lässt sich ein Bezug zur Heldensage nicht zweifelsfrei belegen (vgl. Reichert 1998, 67–69). Dies gilt für die immerhin im Kontext einer Sigurd-Ritzung angebracht Inschrift des Ramsund-Felsens (Sö 101: siriþr:


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kiarþi:bur:þosi:muþiR:alriks:tutiR·urms:fur:salu:hulmkirs:faþur: sukruþarbuata·sis· ‚Si(g)ríðr machte diese Brücke, die Mutter des Alríkr, Tochter des Ormr, für die Seele des Holmgeirr, Vater des Sigrøðr, ihres Mannes‘) ebenso wie für die Inschrift auf dem Solidus von Schwein-dorf (weladu [Looijenga 2003, 308]), bei der ein Bezug zur Wieland-Sage nicht her gestellt werden kann. Auch bei der Inschrift und der Bildszene auf dem Deckel des Runen kästchens von Auzon (ægili) ist es nicht sicher, ob sie als Denk mal einer Egill-Sage gelten können. Die Deutung von emsigimer auf dem Schwert knauf von Gilton/Ash (Looijenga 2003, 276) als zwei Worte (em sigimer) ist unsicher, allein die Nennung eines Namens, der auch als Helden name (Sigemâr in Dietrichs Flucht und in der Raben schlacht) Ver wendung findet, reicht nicht aus, um einen Bezug zur Helden sage herzustellen. Der fornyrðislag-Strophe auf dem Runenstein von Rök (Ög 136) mit der Nennung des Ostgotenkönigs Theoderich (raiþ [þ]iaurikR) wird ihr Zeugniswert für die germanische Heldensage seit neuestem abzu sprechen versucht (Ralph 2007, 146–153; Holmberg 2016, 88). Das über lieferte Namen material der süd ger manischen Runen-inschriften (Nedoma 2004b) weist auch sonst keine direkten Über ein-stimmungen mit dem Namenmaterial der germanischen Helden sage (Gillespie 1973) auf — abgesehen natürlich von einzelnen Namen elementen wie urgerm. *aliza-, *amala-, *ƀalþa-, *ƀerǥō-, *ǥīsla-, *ǥunþi-, *χari̯a-, *lenþii̯a-, *mērii̯a-, *leu̯ði-, *rēða-, *rīka-, *rūnō-, *seǥiz-, *senþa-, *u̯alða-, *u̯eni-.

Vorbehalte gegen einen Zusammenhang der Runeninschrift von Pforzen mit der germanischen Heldensage sind bislang von Seiten der Archäo logie (Fischer 2005, 178–181) formuliert worden: eine mögliche Kon textua lisierung der Runen inschrift auf der Gürtel schnalle von Pforzen mit der Runeninschrift auf dem Einfassungsring von Pforzen, der ca. 10 Meter entfernt in einem Frauengrab des gleichen Zeit horizonts auf ge funden wurde und eine Herstellerinschrift mit mehreren ‚pro-fanen‘ Personen namen trägt (aodliþ:urait:runa | gisali ‚Aodli(n)þ ritzte die Runen | Gisali‘), bleibt zu bedenken. Aus diesem Grund sei vor der Etablie rung der Meinung, die Runeninschrift von Pforzen repräsen tiere Helden sage, als opinio communis zu warnen (Fischer 2005, 179). Gegen die im Zu sammen hang mit der Heldensage wichtige Lesung von ltahu als [i]ltahu/ [a]ltahu gibt es zudem sprach wissen schaftliche bzw. runo-logische Argu mente (vgl. Findell 2012, 131–133, 193–195), die um ein wei teres Argument vermehrt werden können: Die von Nedoma heran-ge zogene Regel nach Grønvik (vgl. Grønvik 1985, 186) ist im Falle der Pforzener Inschrift eben nicht anwendbar, weil keine Beispiele für den


Futhark 7 (2016)

Silben anlaut, sondern nur für den Silbenkern namhaft gemacht werden kön nen — vgl. z. B. owlþuþewaz auf dem Ortband von Thorsberg (KJ 20), birgŋgu auf dem Stein von Opedal (KJ 76), gisuhldu auf dem Web schwert von Wester emden (Looijenga 2003, 311 f.), ufnþai auf der Fibel von Char-nay (KJ 6), …abrg auf der Fibel von Oettingen (Findell 2012, 443 f.). Die Sequenz lguskaþi auf dem Schemel von Wremen (Findell 2012, 486 f.) ge-hört nicht in diesen Argu men tations zusammen hang, weil hier ent we der l[a]guskaþi mit vergessenem a vorliegt (Findell 2012, 240) oder aber bei einer Annahme von [a]lguskaþi das initiale a durch eine Doppel ver wen-dung des vorangehenden wort schließenden a in ksamella erklär bar ist.

Bislang noch nicht diskutiert wurde, ob sich das Postulat, die Runen-inschrift von Pforzen repräsentiere Heldensage oder Helden dichtung, grund sätzlich mit der Textualität, Medialität/Literalität und Über lieferung, mit ihrer Genese und Entwicklung verträgt.

Textualität, Medialität/Literalität und ÜberlieferungDie vorauszusetzende syntaktische Struktur der Inschrift (Subjekt — Objekt — Verb) weist im Verbund mit der poetischen Gestaltung durch Alli te ration, die eine stab reimende Langzeile ergibt, darauf hin, dass es sich um einen (Mikro)Text handelt, der wesentliche Merkmale der Textua li tät (vgl. de Beau grande und Dressler 1981), vor allem Kohärenz und Kohä sion, In ten tio nalität, Akzeptabilität und Informativität, aufweist — in wie fern die Merkmale der Situatio nalität und der Inter textualität erfüllt sind, ist allerdings schwierig zu beurteilen. Unklar ist aber der konkrete textuelle Status der Inschrift: Die voraus zusetzende poetische Struk tur der Inschrift als germanische stab reimende Lang zeile (vgl. Feul-ner 1998; Nau mann 1998, 705; Marold 2011, 94 f.) wäre als Argument für geformte Helden dichtung und nicht für deren ungeformtes Substrat (Helden sage) zu verbuchen. Der Text stehe dabei „virtuell für die ganze Fabel“ (Nedoma 1999, 108). Als Zeugnis germanischer Heldensage sei der Text der Pforzener Inschrift als „,Textem‘ mit beispielgebender Funktion“ (Ne doma 1999, 105) entweder „eine Art Motto bzw. Wahl spruch des sozial höher gestellten und darum mit der (mündlich tradierten) Helden dichtung krie gerisch-aristokratischen Gepräges vertrauten Trägers“ (Nedoma 1999, 105) oder als „Stichzeile des Spells eines Zauberspruchs“ (Eichner 1999, 112; wie Phol ende uuodan uuorun zi holza ‚Phol und Wodan begaben sich in den Wald‘ aus dem Zweiten Merseburger Zauberspruch) anzu sehen; in

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