The Magical Rise And Fall Of The Magician Luan Da

Luan Da was reportedly a tall, handsome man, who presented himself with grandiose flair and steadfast confidence. He had a reputation for being a man of wisdom, not only in strategy and engineering, but also in knowledge of magic and all things supernatural. The charismatic Luan Da lived in a perfect age for someone of his talents, for Emperor Wu of the Han Dynasty (c. 141-87 BCE) spent decades trying to discover the secrets of immortality with a sense of desperation unseen since the days of Shihuangdi (r. 221-210 BCE), the first emperor of the Qin Dynasty.

Luan Da first made a name for himself in the kingdom of Jiaodong, where he became a palace attendant of Emperor Wu’s half-brother, King Kang (r. 150/148-122/120 BCE). The magician eventually was rewarded with the title of “master of magical arts” in that kingdom and gained great respect among the members of the royal family, especially with the childless queen of Jiaodong, who presumably hoped the magician could help her give birth to a son. Nevertheless, when King Kang died, the queen still had not produced an heir, so noble titles were instead bequeathed to two sons born to King Kang’s concubines.

 Interestingly, instead of joining the courts of the new kings, Luan Da seemed to follow the widowed queen for several years after King Kang’s death. He may have also traveled to the domain of the queen’s brother, the marquis of Lecheng. Whatever the case, Luan Da would soon be moving away from the courts of petty kings and lords to begin a remarkable rise to great power and influence in the imperial capital.

 While Luan Da was in Jiaodong, a talented illusionist named Shaoweng had enthralled Emperor Wu with magical performances, especially by performing a trick where he seemingly conjured up the ghost of the emperor’s deceased concubine. Yet, Shaoweng made a fatal mistake in one of his performances—during a show where the magician found a mysterious note in a sacrificed ox’s stomach, the emperor realized with outrage that the handwriting on the note was that of Shaoweng. Realizing that the magician had fed the note to the ox before the fraudulent performance, the emperor immediately sent Shaoweng off to the executioners. Although the magician was indeed killed, Emperor Wu remained unwavering in his belief of magic and supernatural paths to immortality.

With the emperor’s favorite magician now dead, but his interest in magic in no way sated, it was the perfect environment for Luan Da to be introduced to the imperial court. With good reference from the former queen of Jiaodong and the marquis of Lecheng, Luan Da strolled into the capital city with his usual grandiosity and charisma. Before long, the smooth-talking and mystically-alluring magician had the emperor totally mesmerized.

Luan Da claimed to have great magical powers, and the way he said he obtained these skills was the stuff of Emperor Wu’s dreams. The magician told the emperor that he had studied under several immortals, although they apparently cut him off from their teachings because he was not of noble blood. In addition to being an acquaintance of immortals, Luan Da claimed that he had knowledge of an elixir of immortality—something that Emperor Wu was desperate to obtain. The magician also touted that he had knowledge of other supernatural talents, such as conjuring ghosts and using alchemy to create gold.

Although both the magician and the emperor wanted their partnership to go forward, the two men were cautious at first; Emperor Wu because he had recently dealt with a fraudulent magician, and Luan Da because the emperor had just executed someone in the magical line of work. The emperor and the magician both made demands of the other.  Emperor Wu wanted to see the prospective magician perform a feat of magic. Luan Da, however, wanted to be given certain protections, including a marriage to a woman of the imperial family, before he used any of the abilities taught to him by the immortals. Emperor Wu, as emperors usually do, got his way, and Luan Da was promised nothing until he could prove that he could really perform magic.

Emperor Wu’s challenge to Luan Da was something straight out of the world of Harry Potter—wizard’s chess. Sima Qian (c. 145-90 BCE), a Grand Historian and palace secretary to Emperor Wu, wrote, “In order to test Luan Da, the emperor instructed him to give a minor display of his magical powers by making some chessmen fight. When the board was set up, the chessmen were seen to rush against each other of their own accord” (Shi Ji 28). The emperor, who apparently thought it was authentic magic, eagerly brought Luan Da into his inner circle and began raining gifts and titles down on the magician.

Luan Da would become the most rewarded magician in Emperor Wu’s reign. He indeed was allowed to marry a woman of the imperial family—to Emperor Wu’s own daughter, Princess Wei, no less. He was also raised to the nobility by being named Marquis of Letong. Along with his prestigious marriage and his noble title, Luan Da was also given various other auspicious titles such as General of the First Profits, General of the Heavenly Man, General of the Earthly Man, General of the Great Way, and General of the Heavenly Way. These titles were apparently handed out in rapid fashion. Sima Qian wrote, “In no more than a few months from the time he was granted an audience with the emperor, Luan Da bore at his girdle six seals, those of his five generalships and his marquisate, and his honour awed the empire” (Shi Ji 28). The magician, of course, also obtained great tangible wealth with his titles, including a magnificent mansion, several ornate carriages, a thousand servants, and a huge treasure of gold.

Although Luan Da was living the good life, he was also facing increasing pressure. As a performer, he was expected to constantly show new kinds of magic, and, as an occult researcher, the emperor expected him to be making groundbreaking discoveries about immortals and immortality. Luan Da, however, had seemingly hit his limit with levitation tricks and ghost séances. With expectations rising and results dwindling, Luan Da decided it was time to take a sabbatical and left the capital city indefinitely.

As a pretense for his departure from the city, Luan Da claimed that he was leaving to meet with the immortals—after all, now that he was a nobleman with marriage ties to the imperial family, the immortals would surely divulge to him the highest levels of their magical knowledge. Yet, by then, the emperor was becoming suspicious. Luan Da was indeed allowed to journey off in search of the immortals, but Emperor Wu secretly sent spies to keep a watch on the magician’s every move. Those spies eventually brought Luan Da’s magical career to an end. Sima Qian wrote, “They reported that Luan Da had in fact met with no spiritual beings at all, and that the story of his going to visit his teacher was all nonsense. Since it seemed that Luan Da’s magical powers were exhausted, and since his claims in most cases were not borne out by the facts, the emperor had him executed” (Shi Ji 28). Sima Qian claimed that Luan Da was executed around the time of Emperor Wu’s campaign against Southern Yue, placing his death around 112 or 111 BCE.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (“Four Generals of Zhongxing” by Southern Song Dynasty artist Liu Songnian (1174–1224), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The Records of the Grand Historian (Shi ji) by Sima Qian, translated by Burton Watson. New York: Columbia University Press, 1993.

The Curious Tale Of Li Shaojun

Emperor Wu of Han (r. 141-87 BCE) was reportedly a very spiritual person who believed in all sorts of immortals, fairies and supernatural beings. As such, magicians, mystics and other claimants of otherworldly knowledge were prevalent in the emperor’s court. The fates of these men varied; some were granted great power and privilege, while others were quickly executed for fraud—and, of course, several met both fates, achieving remarkable influence before being later executed after one misstep. Yet, there were some magicians who won their renown in the imperial court and lived to enjoy their fame. Of this special group, one incredibly mysterious man stood high above his peers and even earned respect from some of his skeptical critics.

Sometime in the 130s BCE, perhaps around 133 BCE, a curious figure named Li Shaojun strolled into the life of Emperor Wu. The man was an elderly traveling magician and occult wiseman who roamed from region to region, performing all sorts of seemingly-magical deeds in exchange for shelter and sustenance from his patrons. Li Shaojun had no family, and, as far as anyone could tell, he had no ancestral ties to any region. Even his age was unknown—when asked, Li Shaojun always claimed he was seventy, but he had been making that same exact assertion for many years.

Although Li Shaojun ranked as one of the most believable magicians of Emperor Wu’s reign, he was not one for gaudy visual effects. He did not conjure ghosts, or cause inanimate objects to levitate, or do other such tangible displays of magic. Instead, Li Shaojun was more of a psychological magician, who astounded his audiences with knowledge about all sorts of information, both mundane and supernatural.

The Grand Historian and magician skeptic, Sima Qian (c. 145-90 BCE), recorded several feats supposedly done by Li Shaojun. One time, when the magician was being hosted by Marquis Tian Fen of Wuan (died approximately 131-130 BCE), the sly showman amazed the crowd by speaking reminiscently about one of the partygoer’s long-dead grandfathers. Sima Qian wrote, “he told one of the guests, an old man of over ninety, that he had gone with the man’s grandfather to such and such a place to practice archery. The old man had in fact, when he was a child, accompanied his grandfather, remembered visiting the place that Li Shaojun mentioned. With this the whole party was struck with amazement” (Shi Ji 28).

The magician brought his talent for knowing random facts about obscure objects and people to the imperial palace and used it to astound Emperor Wu. According to Sima Qian, when Li Shaojun first appeared in the imperial court, Emperor Wu tested the magician by bringing in an old, dusty bronze vessel. The emperor then asked the famous wiseman to identify it. Without pause, Li Shaojun matter-of-factly explained to the emperor that the item in question dated from the reign of Duke Huan of Qi, specifically the duke’s tenth year of rule (c. 676 BCE). Sima Qian described the scene, “When the inscription on the vessel was deciphered, it was found that it had in fact belonged to Duke Huan of Qi. Everyone in the palace was filled with astonishment and decided that Li Shaojun must be a spirit who had lived hundreds of years” (Shi Ji 28).

In addition to his specific knowledge of bygone people and archaic objects, Li Shaojun also had a reputation for being something of a prophet. In regards to many of the other prediction-based magicians, Sima Qian often bluntly accused them of fraud, or at least hinted that they were being manipulative. Yet, in the case of Li Shaojun, Sima Qian simply wrote that he “was clever at making pronouncements that were later found to have been curiously apt” (Shi Ji 28).

When Emperor Wu and Li Shaojun had become close friends, the magician reportedly began to teach the emperor about a peculiar six-step path to immortality. Step one, curiously enough, was to offer sacrifice to a fireplace until spirits came to inhabit it. With a holy fireplace in possession, you could proceed to step two—use the blessed fireplace to magically turn cinnabar into gold. After obtaining the miraculous cinnabar-gold, the third step was to have the magical metal crafted into a cup and plate. The fourth step, Li Shajun continued, was to regularly dine off of the magical tableware. This would allegedly give the emperor a prolonged lifespan, yet not immortality. Once the emperor felt his life was lengthened, he could embark on the fifth step, which was to travel to the Gulf of Bohai to search for a mythical island called Penglai.

According to popular legend, Penglai and other mythical islands in Bohai could be seen from a distance, but never reached—they were either floating in the sky or submerged under water, and if anyone ever did sail close to one of these otherworldly islands, sudden winds would blow the seekers off course. Yet, according to Li Shaojun, the emperor could reach the magical island of Penglai after having lengthened his life by eating and drinking from the cinnabar-gold plate and cup. The sixth and final step to immortality, which could be completed after reaching Penglai, was to enlist the help of the magical islanders to correctly complete a set of mystical ceremonies known as the Feng and Shan Sacrifices. With this completed, Li Shaojun promised, the emperor could become immortal.

Ironically, Li Shaojun reportedly died not long after he divulged his knowledge of immortality to Emperor Wu. Yet, the magician had such an aura of genuineness that his death did not disrupt Emperor Wu’s faith in Li Shaojun’s teachings. Sima Qian wrote, “The emperor, however, believed that he was not really dead but had transformed himself into a spirit, and he ordered Kuan Shu, a clerk from Huangchui, to carry on the magical arts which Li Shaojun had taught” (Shi Ji 28).

Emperor Wu, as may be expected, never was able to turn cinnabar into gold in his fireplace. Yet, he skipped ahead a few steps and launched numerous expeditions to find the magical island of Penglai—a goal, like the cinnabar-gold, that he was not able to achieve. In 110 BCE, however, Emperor Wu did claim to pull off his own version of the Feng and Shan sacrifices and, around 109 BCE, he had a magician named Gongsun Qing in his palace who claimed to have grown a so-called fungus of immortality. Nevertheless, no magician or magical fungi was able to stop Emperor Wu from aging—he died in 87 BCE.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (Album of the Yongzheng Emperor in Costumes (this time dressed as a Daoist magician), by anonymous court artists, Yongzheng period (1723—35), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The Records of the Grand Historian (Shi ji 28) by Sima Qian, translated by Burton Watson (pages 25-26 of his translation). New York: Columbia University Press, 1993.

Emma Of Normandy—11th-Century England Incarnate

The Duchy of Normandy was born following the Treaty of St. Clair-sur-Epte in the year 911, when the Viking Hrolf (or Rollo) was bequeathed power in northern France by King Charles III “the Simple”. The new rulers of Normandy adopted parts of French culture, such as Christianity and the vernacular of France, yet they never completely assimilated. Instead, they became something that was not fully French and not fully Scandinavian—they were Norman.

Duke Hrolf’s grandson was Duke Richard I “the Fearless” (r. 942-996). In his day, the link between the Normans and Scandinavia was very much still alive. Richard I married a woman named Gunnor, who was reportedly a Dane. They had several children, the most important being the eventual heir, Richard II, as well as a daughter named Emma.

When Richard II became duke in 996, friendly relations between the Normans and their Scandinavian cousins continued. To the annoyance of Æthelred the Unready (the king of England since 978), Viking raiders who needed a break from pillaging in Britain, or wanted to offload some looted cargo, could quickly find friendly ports by sailing to Normandy. The Anglo-Saxons of England were aware of this and noted it in their records—as in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle entry for the year 1000, where the chronicler explained a lull in otherwise annual Viking raids with the statement, “the hostile fleet was this summer gone to Richard’s dominions” (ASC 1000).

Naturally, the Anglo-Saxons did not appreciate Normandy’s enabling of Viking attacks on Britain, and the king and the duke likely exchanged heated letters to each other through ambassadors. Yet, in 1002, an interesting agreement was reached between the Normans and the Anglo-Saxons—Emma, the young sister of Richard II, would wed King Æthelred the Unready of England.

Born between 985 and 990, Emma would have been in her early teens, possibly as young as twelve, when she was shipped off to England by her brother. Emma, however, did not go alone. She brought with her a sizable retinue of Normans, which at times could look like a private army. Most memorably, her Norman followers caused a stir in 1003, when “Exeter was taken by storm, through the French count Hugo, whom the lady [Emma] had appointed her reeve” (Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, 1003). In addition to her Norman retinue, Emma was given large swaths of land (and tax exemptions) by Æthelred the Unready, which would eventually turn the savvy Emma into England’s richest woman. Despite being sent to a war-torn land and forced to marry a man around twenty years older than herself, she was living in luxury.

The marriage between Emma of Normandy and Æthelred the unready was presumably a match meant to reduce the Scandinavian threat to England—with Emma serving as a queen of England, her brother, Duke Richard II of Normandy, would be less eager to help Britain-bound Vikings. Around the same time that the marriage occurred, Æthelred also made a large tribute payment to a group of Scandinavian raiders in order to buy peace. Yet, despite extending these two olive branches, Æthelred himself devastated any chance of ending his Viking problem before the year was even over. In 1002, right after sending tribute money to the raiders and marrying Emma, Æthelred launched the so-called St. Brice’s Day Massacre, in which “the king commanded all the Danish men who were in England to be slain” (Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, 1002). For Emma, with a Norman father and a Danish mother, it must have been an awkward time.

In response to the massacre, Danish fleets sent by King Sweyn (or Svein) Forkbeard began relentlessly attacking England, invading almost on an annual basis. Despite this, Queen Emma made the best of her situation. For the sake of the Anglo-Saxons, she adopted the name, Ælfgifu—which curiously was also the name of Æthelred’s previous wife (Ælfgifu of York). Between hearing reports of Viking raids and Sweyn Forkbeard sightings, Æthelred the Unready and Emma managed to have three children together, two sons (Alfred and Edward), as well as a daughter (Goda). Neither of Emma’s sons, however, were Æthelred’s heir apparent. Instead, a man named Edmund Ironside, born from Æthelred’s previous wife, was the nominated successor to the kingdom.

After years of warfare, Sweyn Forkbeard’s wrath proved too much for Æthelred the Unready. By 1013, rampaging Danish warriors forced Æthelred and Emma to flee across the English Channel. While the refugee royals escaped to Emma’s homeland of Normandy, Sweyn Forkbeard and the Danes claimed the throne of England. Sweyn Forkbeard, however, died the very next year and was succeeded by his untested son, Canute. With England and Denmark both showing questionable loyalty to Canute, Æthelred the Unready and Emma were able to return to Britain and claim the English throne in 1014. Yet, Canute—who would later be given the epithet “the Great”—was not one to be underestimated. With an army of loyalists, Canute quickly began marauding through England and encouraging local lords to defect. The warfare lasted until King Æthelred’s death in 1016 and continued into the reign of his successor, Edmund Ironside. The new king was not called “Ironside” for nothing, and, with him at the head off England’s forces, the Danish assault was ground down to a stalemate. Yet, Edmund, too, died in 1016 and Canute subsequently became the king of England.

For Queen Emma, the death of her husband and the rise of Canute was not the end of her political career, but a new beginning. The victorious king fancied Emma (as well as her ties to the Normans) and quickly began courting her. Like the late Æthelred, Canute had a previous wife (who bore him a son named Harold Harefoot), but Canute set the woman aside so that he could marry Emma. Canute and Emma reportedly got along quite well and were married as early as 1017. Children arrived quickly after their marriage—a son named Hardecanute was born around 1018 or 1019, and they also had a daughter named Gunnhild. Unlike in her previous marriage, this time Emma supposedly was given reassurances from Canute that it would be her children (not those of his previous wife) that would succeed to the throne. The agreement, however, extended only to Emma’s children fathered by Canute. Those fathered by the late Æthelred were sent into exile and lived in Normandy with their uncle, Duke Richard II.

Queen Emma’s life with Canute the Great was a wild ride. After seeing to things in England, Canute sailed back to Denmark and asserted his claim over the kingdom between 1018 and 1019. Later, as if England and Denmark were not enough, he usurped power in Norway by deposing King Olaf II Haraldsson (Saint Olaf) in 1028. During this time, Queen Emma was reportedly a trusted advisor to King Canute and also was greatly influential in the life of her son, Hardecanute, even after the boy was sent to be tutored in Denmark and later named the governor or minor king of the region around 1028.

Unfortunately, King Canute the Great died unexpectedly in 1035 and, despite the late king’s supposed assurances to the contrary, Emma’s son, Hardecanute, was not guaranteed succession in England. The aforementioned Harold Harefoot had for years been recruiting a powerful coalition of English thanes and earls while his half-brother, Hardecanute, was away in Denmark. When Canute died, Harold contested the succession and had on his side the majority of England’s lords, of which Earl Leofric of Mercia was his most vocal supporter. In protest, Queen Emma delved into a battle of politics and intrigue to fight for Hardecanute’s claim on England. She recruited the powerful Earl Godwine of Wessex to her side and they managed to keep Harold Harefoot contained to the rank of co-king or regent for a time. While engaged in her political battles with Harold, Queen Emma had some autonomy and was described as being well-guarded “at Winchester with her son’s [Hardecanute’s] ‘hûscarls’” (Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, 1036). Yet her position was precarious, and her foe was a worthy adversary in court intrigue.

Earl Godwine was eventually swayed over to the faction of Harold Harefoot and England became an increasingly dangerous place for Emma and her family. Although her son, Hardecanute, had easily claimed the throne of Denmark, Harold was simultaneously tightening his control over English politics. A breaking point was reached in 1036, when Alfred (Emma’s son by Æthelred) returned to England. At that time, Harold Harefoot had such power in the realm that Alfred was quickly arrested, mutilated, and left to die—the gruesome act was reportedly carried out by Emma’s former ally, Earl Godwine. There was no longer any need for Harold Harefoot to pretend to be a co-ruler or regent. In 1037, he proclaimed himself the sole king of England and forced Emma into exile.

Interestingly, Emma chose not to join her son Hardecanute in Denmark, or to visit her other son, Edward, in Normandy. Instead, she reportedly sailed to Flanders, where a certain Count Baldwin gave her shelter. In late 1039, the filial Hardecanute went to meet his mother in Flanders, bringing with him a fleet of around sixty ships. Yet, before Hardecanute and Emma could reroute their fleet back to England, Harold Harefoot died in March 1040. With the throne vacant, Hardecanute was able to become king of England without bloodshed. Nevertheless, he had unfinished business with his late half-brother, so Hardecanute reportedly exhumed Harold’s body and had the remains unceremoniously tossed into a wetland.

With Hardecanute in power, the long-exiled Edward (son of Æthelred and Emma) was allowed to return to England in 1041. He arrived just in time, for Hardecanute reportedly drank himself to death in 1042. With his half-brother dead, Edward “the Confessor” became the new king. Emma, now living once again in Winchester, likely hoped that she could rekindle that mother-son spark with her long-neglected child.  Yet, Emma’s marriage to the Danish king, the more than twenty years absence from Edward’s life, as well as her clear favoritism toward Hardecanute, undoubtedly caused some strain in the relationship between King Edward and his mother. It has also been claimed that Emma withheld support from Edward during his succession to the throne, or possibly backed another candidate. Whatever the case, King Edward was clearly unhappy with his mother’s behavior. In 1043, according to the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, King Edward “and earl Leofric, and earl Godwine, and earl Siward, with their attendants, rode from Gloucester to Winchester unawares upon the lady [Emma], and they bereaved her of all the treasures which she owned, which were not to be told; because she had before been very hard to the king her son, inasmuch as she had done less for him than he would, before he was king, and also since then” (ASC 1043).

In Edward’s systematic undermining of his mother in 1043, he stripped away much of her land, her wealth and her influence, even momentarily excluding her from his court. The two were eventually somewhat reconciled, but Emma never regained the power she once had. With her political heyday unmistakably over, Emma of Normandy learned to live a quiet life and died in 1052. Edward the Confessor continued to rule in England until he died without an heir in 1066. In the political chaos after Edward’s death, with Norwegians, Anglo-Saxons, and Normans battling for the throne of England, it would be Emma’s great-nephew, William the Conqueror, who would emerge victorious.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Depiction of Queen Emma from a manuscript in the Cambridge University Library, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle translated by Benjamin Thorpe in 1861 and republished by Cambridge University Press, 2012.
• Heimskringla, by Snorri Sturluson and translated by Lee Hollander. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1964, 2018. 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Richard-I-duke-of-Normandy
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Richard-II-duke-of-Normandy 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Robert-I-duke-of-Normandy 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/William-I-king-of-England 
• https://www.historic-uk.com/HistoryUK/HistoryofEngland/Emma-Of-Normandy/ 
•   http://www.englishmonarchs.co.uk/vikings_7.html
• https://www.bl.uk/people/queen-emma
• https://www.medievalwomen.org/emma-of-normandy.html
• https://sites.psu.edu/slavoffpassion/2017/03/15/emma-of-normandy/ 
• https://www.encyclopedia.com/women/encyclopedias-almanacs-transcripts-and-maps/emma-normandy-c-985-1052
• https://www.encyclopedia.com/women/encyclopedias-almanacs-transcripts-and-maps/gunnor-denmark-d-1031 
• http://www.medievalists.net/2013/01/emma-of-normandy-queen-of-england/ 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Hardecanute 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Ethelred-the-Unready 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Canute-I 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Rollo-duke-of-Normandy 
• https://www.britannica.com/topic/Norman-people#ref54977 
• https://www.intriguing-history.com/emma-of-normandy/ 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Edward-king-of-England-1002-1066 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Edmund-II 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Harold-I          

Thangbrand Of Saxony, Olaf Tryggvason’s Murderous Priest

King Olaf Tryggvason (r. 995-1000) was not a particularly patient or compromising monarch in his efforts to make Christianity the state religion of Norway. He often brought overwhelming military power to public assemblies and forced his people to convert at sword point, then took hostages to keep them in line, and smashed representations of the Norse gods for good measure before moving on to the next pagan region. As bad often attracts bad, it is not surprising that other violent church figures found their way into the court of Olaf Tryggvason. In particular, a priest named Thangbrand was known to have been a chaotic and turbulent figure.

Thangbrand’s early history has been lost to time, but he was said to have been of Saxon origin. Njal’s Saga (c. 13th century) even claimed that he was the son of a certain Count Willibald of Saxony. Whatever his origin story, Thangbrand eventually traveled to Norway and became a court priest of Olaf Tryggvason. In Norwegian circles, Thangbrand gained a reputation of being admirable in study, but abysmal in social settings. The Icelandic historian, Snorri Sturluson (c. 1179-1241), summed up Thangbrand’s reputation as, “He was a man of great overbearing and much inclined to violence, but otherwise a good cleric and a brave fellow” (Heimskringla, Oláfs saga Tryggvasonar, chapter 73). Although Thangbrand did have some positive qualities, his negative quirks were too much for some members of the Norwegian court to bear—the king included. Therefore, King Olaf Tryggvason apparently concluded that the brave and ruthless Thangbrand was the perfect candidate to send off on a missionary trip to Iceland.

To the relief of Norwegian courtiers, Thangbrand set sail for Iceland in 997. A warrior named Gudleif (or Gudlaug) Arason was the priest’s companion on the mission, and, according to Njal’s Saga, they sailed on a ship called the Bison. The missionaries eventually landed in Álptafjord of the Eastfjord District of Iceland. There, Thangbrand continued his educated, but belligerent, ways. The Laxdæla Saga claimed, “He preached the Christian faith with both fair words and dire punishments” (section 41). He did succeed in converting several significant figures in Iceland, such as Hall of Sida, Gizur the White and Hjalti Skeggjason, yet Thangbrand’s antics created more enemies than friends. The Saxon priest became an extremely unpopular figure on the island, and witty skalds in Iceland started to write unflattering verses at Thangbrand’s expense.

Unfortunately for the Icelanders, the priest was in no way a forgive-and-forget Christian, and he lashed out at the poets in an extremely unpriestly way—murder. Virtually every source on Thangbrand claims that he killed at least two people in his short stay on Iceland. The Islendingabók of Ari the Learned (c. 1068-1148) claimed that Thangbrand killed two or three of the people who lampooned him, while Snorri Sturluson proposed it was three, and the embellished Njal’s Saga alleged that the priest slew at least five people. The skalds, Thorvald Veili and Vetrlidi, were the two victims on which most sources agreed. About those two, Snorri Sturluson wrote, “Thorvald Veili and the skald Vetrlidi composed scurrilous verses about Thangbrand, and he killed both” (Heimskringla, Oláfs saga Tryggvasonar, chapter 73).

As soon as Thangbrand began murdering poets in Iceland—a land prone to bloody feuds at that time—it became no longer safe for him to remain on the island. Assassination plots began to form among the priest’s enemies, and, by 999, Thangbrand decided to flee back to Norway. The same year, Gizur the White and Hjalti Skeggason (both Icelandic converts of Thangbrand) also fled to Norway. The latter of the two Icelanders had outraged his countrymen with a crass poem of his own, one that called the gods Odin and Freyja a pair of dogs.

When Thangbrand reported his failure in Iceland to King Olaf Tryggvason, the monarch did not give up his quest to convert the Icelanders to Christianity. The king quickly sent a second wave of missionaries to Iceland, led by the aforementioned Icelandic exiles. About this second group of proselytizers, Snorri Sturluson wrote, “he [Olaf Tryggvason] sent Gizur the White and Hjalti Skeggjason to Iceland to proclaim Christianity there, and with them a priest called Thormod and several other ordained men, but kept with him as hostages four Icelanders that seemed to him noblest” (Heimskringla, Oláfs saga Tryggvasonar, chapter 95). This second party of missionaries was much more successful and, aided by the fact that the Norwegian king was holding the sons of four prominent chieftains captive, they convinced the Icelanders to accept Christianity by 1000. As for Thangbrand, he apparently did nothing of note after his peculiar trip to Iceland and faded into history.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (A scene depicting King Olaf Tryggvason of Norway, by Peter Nicolai Arbo (1831–1892), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• Heimskringla, by Snorri Sturluson and translated by Lee Hollander. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1964, 2018.
• The Book of Settlements (Sturlubók version) translated by Hermann Pálsson and Paul Edwards. Winnipeg: University of Manitoba Press, 1972, 2006. 
• Laxdæla saga by an unknown 13th century Icelander, translated by Keneva Kunz. New York: Penguin Classics, 2008. 
• Íslendingabók (ed. Jakob Benediktsson) in The Viking Age: A Reader, edited by Angus A. Somerville and R. Andrew McDonald. Ontario: University of Toronto Press, 2010. 
• https://www.pitt.edu/~dash/njal100.html 
• https://www.britannica.com/topic/Germanic-religion-and-mythology/Beliefs-practices-and-institutions#ref533322  

The Flamboyant Tale Of King Liu Duan Of Jiaoxi

Emperor Jing (r. 157-141 BCE) and the concubine Lady Cheng had three sons named Liu Yu, Liu Fei and Liu Duan. All three brothers were quickly appointed as kings after their father’s ascendance to the throne. Liu Yu and Liu Fei were given kingdoms in 155 BCE and Liu Duan followed close behind with his appointment as the King of Jiaoxi in 154 BCE. Lady Cheng’s sons were generally well behaved when it came to respecting the authority of the emperors—they never rebelled and they had largely tranquil reigns. Liu Yu and Liu Fei both died after twenty-five or twenty-six years of rule, which had been tame and peacefully absent of drama. Liu Duan, however, who lived to rule twice as long as his brothers, quickly became the oddball of the family.

Liu Duan set up his regime in Jiaoxi like any other king. He hired an entourage of ministers and attendants to help govern his kingdom, and he also took in several concubines who would hopefully provide him with an heir to the kingdom. Yet, Liu Duan and his ministers quickly began to feud. The main point of dissent, according to Han historian Sima Qian (c. 145-90 BCE), was the relationship between the king and his concubines—or lack thereof. Apparently, Liu Duan was strictly homosexual and used every trick in the book to avoid time with his palace women. His favorite ploy was to plead illness, a tactic that allowed him to escape his concubines for months at a time.

Although the king and his harem of women had a cold relationship, Liu Duan was quite affectionate toward a certain young man who worked in the palace. The attendant, left unnamed by Sima Qian, was either accepting of or nonresistant to the king’s interest and the two were alleged to have begun a passionate relationship. Yet, unlike Liu Duan, the palace attendant fancied women as much as he did men, and, when he became smitten with one of the king’s scorned concubines, a classic love triangle was formed.

While not attending the king, the handsome courtier found ways to spend time with the palace lady who had caught his eye. His advances were apparently reciprocated and the two began an affair behind the back of the king. Yet, the couple became horrified when the concubine entered that state which couples receive with both excitement and anxiety—she was pregnant. To the relief of the illicit lovers, Liu Duan liked to keep his palace women out of sight and out of mind. The king reportedly had so little interest in the women of his harem that he was totally oblivious to the pregnancy of the concubine. It was only after the child was born that gossip reached the ears of Liu Duan. When the truth was discovered, the heartbroken king reportedly had the palace attendant, the concubine and even their newborn child all executed.

During the time that King Liu Duan was not hiding from his palace women, he usually was immersed in legal intrigue against his ministers and other imperial officials. It was apparently a life-long battle, but the king proved himself to be a worthy and dangerous opponent. Sima Qian wrote,  “The chancellors and the 2,000 picul officials would no sooner attempt to bring charges against him than they would find that they themselves had become entangled in the Han Laws” (Shi Ji 59). It was a testament to Liu Duan’s political skill that he won most of his legal battles during his lengthy forty-seven-year reign as king of Jiaoxi. Yet, with the king and the officials distracted by a never-ending feud, the kingdom suffered from neglect. Sima Qian wrote, “His storehouses began to leak and fall into ruin, and the goods in them, valued at millions of cash, rotted away until they could not even be moved from the spot” (Shi Ji 59). Along with the storehouses, the kingdom’s tax collection system and the flow of payment to guards and the military also suffered from poor management. The officials used the tattered state of the kingdom to their advantage. Sima Qian stated, “The officials then requested that his kingdom be reduced in size, and he was deprived of over half of his domain” (Shi Ji 59).

As the king grew older, he apparently took his security much more seriously. Likely in consequence of the unstable pay of his guards and military, the king became more reclusive, reportedly spending most of his time holed up in his palace with those he trusted most. He may have also feared assassination, as he was said to have used disguises and false names whenever he traveled on roads that left him vulnerable to attack. Nevertheless, Liu Duan was a survivor and lived until his peaceful death in 107 BCE, after nearly a half-century of rule in Jiaoxi. At the time of his death, the king still had no children, and the kingdom was consequently brought under the direct jurisdiction of Emperor Wu’s central government.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (figures from a tomb mural of Prince Zhanguai (c. 706) and a woman from a Sung Dynasty tomb mural (c. 960-1279), both [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The Records of the Grand Historian (Shi ji) by Sima Qian, translated by Burton Watson. New York: Columbia University Press, 1993.