Forging a New Elite for Viking-Age Funen

During the late 800s, a new elite established themselves on the island of Funen in the Danish archipelago. Perhaps they rose from the ranks of local farmers, or perhaps they migrated there from wealthier parts of Scandinavia. But whatever their origins, they saw a need to set themselves apart from previous generations. They did so in part by burying their dead in a new set of places.

Glass beads and amber beads from Viking Age Denmark.
Beads from nine graves at Kildehuse. Like other Viking-Age cemeteries found on Funen, Kildehuse produced only a small selection of beads. These mostly date to the 900s, giving the impression that Funen was a relatively quiet place for much of the 800s. (Odense Bys Museer, Odense, DK.)

Grave ACQ at Køstrup inaugurated one of these cemeteries. The attention that ACQ received indicates that she was either a powerful matriarch or that her survivors had hoped she would become one. They buried her in the height of fashion. She wore a simple linen underdress, and on top of it, another garment dyed blue with woad. Pleats ran down the center. Not only was this a conspicuous waste of fabric in a period when textile production was labor intensive. The vertical lines also drew the eye upward from the blue garment toward the cluster of jewelry at ACQ’s breast.

Brooches excavated from Køstrup Grave ACQ on Funen, DK.
The bronze brooches buried in Grave ACQ at Køstrup, DK. Archaeologists classify these as JP 51a, referring to an illustration in an early catalog of Viking-Age artifacts. Similar brooches are often found in contexts that date from 850-950, tending toward the early part of that range. (Illustration from Lindblom 1993: 153.)

Two bronze brooches provided support, pinned to the shoulder straps. These were in a garish style that archaeologists call JP 51a. They stood out like tortoise shells with intricate designs that could catch light from any direction. When ACQ was alive, these brooches would have sparkled as she moved. Now she was dead, but her brooches still caught fresh light each time the mourners moved around her, drawing their eyes back to the dazzling objects at the center of her grave.

Reconstruction of the dress and jewelry assemblage from Køstrup Grave ACQ.
The Viking-Age dress from Køstrup, as the woman buried in Grave ACQ may have worn it. Note that archaeologists aren’t sure whether she wore the beads at the top or the bottom of her brooches. Also, the patterns at the top of the dress were likely woven with colored thread, although these colors do not survive today. (Illustration from Rimstad 1998: cover.)

Between the brooches lay a string of eight beads. This is the largest Viking-Age necklace currently preserved in the museums of Funen. ACQ’s survivors must have known that women elsewhere could boast much more impressive displays. Perhaps to make up for this lack, ACQ’s dress had a thin strip of fabric running from brooch to brooch, woven with designs to help make her modest necklace seem like part of a larger, more colorful display.

Necklace beads from Køstrup Grave ACQ.
Necklace beads from Køstrup Grave ACQ. By studying where and when similar beads appeared, we can learn more about ACQ, her community, and the networks they were involved in. (Odense Bys Museer, Odense, DK.)

Each bead has its own story to tell. The darkest bead glows purple when held to the light. Similar beads have been found in towns like Ribe and Åhus, showing that ACQ had access to developing markets. Just as importantly, these other sites reveal how quickly this style went out of fashion after about 850, indicating that ACQ was not buried much later than 860. This was a period when viking activity was drastically increasing in the west, and it would be surprising if ACQ and the new elite were not somehow connected to the plunder and wealth of this so-called Great Heathen Army. This bead, then, offers tantalizing clues about ACQ’s place in the trading and raiding that defined the Viking Age.

Grave diagram for Køstrup Grave ACQ.
Beads were just part of ACQ’s grave, which is considered the richest burial in the Køstrup cemetery. Her brooches lay off-center, suggesting that she was buried on her side. At her hip lay a knife and a key, which presumably hung on a long cord from her brooches. At her head was a small casket made of maple. She was placed in a coffin, but this must have stayed open as all these things were arranged. A discoloration at the foot of her grave suggests that a pole or wooden stake marked the spot where she was buried, which became a focal point for the cemetery around her. (Illustration from Lindblom 1993: 153.)

The other colored beads would be more difficult to date if we didn’t have the short-lived purple bead as a point of reference. Several of these styles were especially popular during Funen’s glory days two centuries before, when the shrine of Gudme attracted pilgrims and may have inspired the earliest cycles of Norse mythology. Not only do these beads suggest deliberate connections to the past; so too does the burial site. Køstrup had already been used as a cemetery once before, and even though the people buried there must have been long forgotten, they left a distinctive burial mound in their place. The people who dug a grave for ACQ and started a new cemetery right next to this ancient mound were making strong claims about their abilities to dominate both the island landscape and its mythical past.

The clear beads also tell a story. These are made of rock crystal, a common variant of quartz. I’ve found this particular style—finely rounded, a bit larger than a centimeter, and almost perfectly clear—in a few specific spots: the boat burials of central Sweden, the merchant’s colony at Hedeby, and the aristocratic hoard of Lille Karleby, a site located suggestively close to homelands of the Danish monarchy. These diverse finds show that ACQ was linked into the major changes of the Viking Age: a thriving culture which treated warships as prestigious symbols, a network of trading towns promoting urban crafts and long-distance exchange, and growing kingdoms that would soon ally themselves with the Christian church, ushering in the end of the Viking Age and the dawn of the Middle Ages.


For reconstructions of ACQ’s dress, see:

For further information about Køstrup and Grave ACQ, see:

  • Charlotte Lindblom, “Køstrup – en nordvestfynsk vikingetidsgravplads,” Fynske Minder (1993): 143–168.
  • Charlotte Rimstad, “Vikinger i uld og guld,” Speciale (Copenhagen: Copenhagen University Forhistorisk Arkæologi, 1998).

For the reference catalog for Viking Age jewelry, see:

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The Limfjord in the Viking Age: Centralization and Catastrophe

The Limfjord cuts across northern Denmark, offering a short and well-sheltered route from the North Sea to the Baltic. As maritime traffic picked up in the late 600s, ships began to ply the Limfjord more often. Traders coming from the commercial centers of the Frisian coast were taking their enterprise north, and by 705, they established a seasonal trading camp at Ribe in western Denmark. It gave them a final base before braving the North Sea into the Baltic. They carried beads with them wherever they went, and a few of their beads ended up in the young Limfjord settlement of Bejsebakken, indicating that they were using this route for their traffic by about 750.

Beads of orange, red, blue, and green glass from the Iron Age, from the cemetery at Lindholm Høje.
An elite circle of society made their home along the Limfjord as early as the 400s, rising to prominence just as Roman governance ebbed in the West. These beads were likely made in the Byzantine Empire and headed north into the Limfjord between 540 and 660 AD. (Lindholm Høje Museet, Nørresundby, DK.)

In the mid-700s, the seasonal camps of southern Scandinavia had just started to transition into a more permanent network of trading towns. Ribe might have led the way, perhaps around 750. Åhus, Ribe’s sister site in southern Sweden, made a similar transition before 790. And the Limfjord was likewise affected, with a new settlement picking up at Sebbersund at about the same time.

wasp-bead-from-sebbersund-760-790
A “wasp” bead from Sebbersund, ca. 760–790. One of the earliest artifacts from Sebbersund, which would later develop into a major trading port for traffic taking the Limfjord between the east and west coasts of Jutland. (Aalborg Historiske Museum, Aalborg, DK.)

What these three sites show us—Ribe, Sebbersund, Åhus—is that on the very cusp of viking raids on England, Ireland, and France, a stable network of settlements had just recently been formed in Scandinavia. These settlements offered a reliable route for shipping goods out of the North Sea and into the Baltic, and the Limfjord was the linchpin that held this network together.

But the sites of the Limfjord share a common problem with many sites from the Viking Age. Although we have a large number of artifacts that can tell us about the early and late periods of these places, there’s not much to fill in our knowledge of the middle decades of their existence.

A model of the Lindholm Høje cemetery and an adjacent settlement, as they may have looked during the early Viking Age, ca. 800.
A model of the Lindholm Høje cemetery and its adjacent settlement, as they may have looked during the early Viking Age, ca. 800. Lindholm Høje sits atop a hill overlooking the Limfjord, and in windy weather it sounds just like the sea. Many of the graves have stones around them, laid out in the shapes of ships—a strong indicator of just how important sea travel was for the early Viking Age residents of the Limfjord. (Lindholm Høje Museet, Nørresundby, DK.)

The early phase ended sometime in the mid-800s, as the flow of glass beads into Sebbersund ground to a halt. A single coin minted by Louis the Pious between 822 and 840 was lost at the fledgling settlement of Aggersborg, indicating that the Limfjord was briefly but abortively linked into the coin economies of Western Europe. And the pagan cemetery at Lindholm Høje was first restructured and then subsequently abandoned after almost 500 years of continuous use. Local communities were reinventing who they were by redefining the ways they lived and died.

Blue and yellow drawn beads of early Islamic glass.
Tiny drawn beads are some of the last datable artifacts from the early phase of settlement at Sebbersund. These beads probably date to 800–850 and were made in the Eastern Mediterranean—probably in the early caliphate’s glass factories in Egypt or Syria. Similar beads have been found at places like Ribe and Hedeby, which also developed into important trading towns during the Viking Age. (Aalborg Historiske Museum, Aalborg, DK.)

When archaeologists regain clarity in the mid-900s, the Limfjord region looked completely different. Sand dunes had covered the pagan burials at Lindholm Høje, and the residents of Sebbersund had begun to bury their dead alongside one of Scandinaiva’s earliest churches. The town of Aggersborg was burned to the ground, and on top of its ashes, the Danish king Harald Bluetooth had built a huge Trelleborg-style fortress.

Viking Age combs from Sebbersund, Jutland, Denmark.
My research focuses on east-west routes during the early Viking Age, but the Limfjord was also an important north-south route. It seems that during this period, the Limfjord also had a channel leading north to Norway. Antlers taken from reindeer and caribou from northern Norway—perhaps traded from the nomadic Saami tribes—were crafted into fine combs at places like Sebbersund on the Limfjord. People proudly carried these items as badges of their good hygiene and their ability to acquire exotic goods. (Lindholm Høje Museet, Nørresundby, DK.)

Aggersborg dominated the maritime crossroads between England, Norway, and the Danish archipelago. Its walls stood 240 meters apart, enclosing 48 longhouses, each 32 meters in length. It was a remarkable sign of Danish royal power for anyone traveling through the Limfjord. Harald Bluetooth’s great-grandson Harthacnut installed a royal mint nearby at Aalborg. And one of his successors used the fort as a gathering point for his fleet—part of a failed attempt to invade England in 1085.

Ship stone setting from the Iron Age and Viking Age cemetery at Lindholm Høje, northern Jutland, Denmark.
A ship setting from Lindholm Høje. The weather in northern Jutland often mixes fog and wind, giving the impression of the spray of the sea. Many graves at Lindholm Høje have these ship-shaped stone settings, and it’s easy to imagine the dead were thought to sail off into the afterlife, much like the mythical Baldr, son of Odin. Sand dunes covered these graves during the 900s, until they were uncovered by archaeologists a thousand years later. They make an unearthly site to visit today. (Lindholm Høje, Nørresundby, DK.)

The Limfjord had evolved from a wayside for Frisian traders into the locus of Danish royal power and imperial ambitions. But sometime shortly before 1200, the shifting sands of the Jutland coast closed its access to the North Sea. This was no minor crisis. The Limfjord, once a proud commercial highway and the mustering place for armies, had turned suddenly into a brackish backwater. The suddenness of this change offers a grim reminder that even small environmental changes can rend a political and economic fabric that had been centuries in the making.

Glass beads from a cremation burial at Lindholm Høje, Denmark.
Lindholm Høje has 549 identified graves, spanning from the fifth to tenth centuries. It’s one of the most important archaeological sites in Scandinavia. Many of the dead were cremated together with their grave goods, so it’s difficult to identify a large number of the artifacts. Nevertheless, the number of blue beads in this group, and the complex mosaic patterns still visible on the big lumps of melted glass, allow us to assign this particular grave to the early 700s. (Lindholm Høje Museet, Nørresundby, DK.)