Ever since I saw my first pair of bone ice skates at the Jorvik Viking Centre and Yorkshire Museum, I’ve been charmed by them. After a brief period of madness where I convinced myself I could make my own (turns out getting ahold of horse metacarpals in the UK is borderline impossible!) I was delighted to find that Amber Wolf had made a pair. Even better, they were for sale at Jorvik Viking Festival! Just my luck.
Image credit: Amber Wolf Workshop on Facebook. Second pic is the original skate in the Yorkshire Museum.
Bone skates are found all over the Viking world, with examples from Dublin, Hedeby and Birka just to name a few sites. Many pairs of skates were found in historical York, with 42 examples from Early Medieval Coppergate (MacGregor, Mainman and Rogers, 1999.) All of them were made from bone, with horse bones being the most popular, followed by cattle. If you want to learn more about the history of bone ice skates, there’s a fantastic paper by Küchelmann & Zidarov (2005) available free online– it was invaluable not only for historical background but also for technique!
My pair are based on item number 7122 from 16-22 Coppergate, dating to period 3 (mid 9th- early 10th century) though it incorporates a toe hole where the original did not. This skate is unusual among the York assemblage in that it has a fragment of a wooden peg (possibly willow) still stuck within the heel hole, which is suggested to be to aid attachment to the feet with cordage. Only one other skate from York (7930) has wood remaining, though many others retain their heel holes. Like the original skate 7122, my pair are made from horse’s leg bones, which have a natural curve to them.
Figure.942, p.1984. MacGregor, Mainman and Rogers (1999.)
Now to the skating itself. It’s suggested that Viking Age skaters pushed themselves across the ice with sticks, rather than gliding across the ice like modern metal skates. This would be necessary, as the bone skates do not cut through the ice but rather sit flat on it. It’s not known whether skates were used purely for transport during winter or for leisure, but I suppose they could be for both.
Since such propulsion poles would likely be just a wooden stick, maybe with a metal point on one end, none have been identified in the archaeological record. But some depictions and descriptions of skating from the Medieval and Early Modern period still survive and they do show evidence for people across Europe using staffs to propel them on skates. (A good round-up of this evidence can be found here.)
From HISTORIA DE GENTIBVS SEPTENTRIONALIBVS “Description of the Northern Peoples” by Olaus Magnus (1555.)
What I was interested in finding out when trying my skates was of course- how are they to skate on? But also- how do they attach to the foot? Do they stay on? Are they comfortable? All valid questions that if answered will give me a really interesting insight into one aspect of wintry life in the Viking Age.
Unfortunately, I am both terrible at ice skating and a gigantic chicken.
Cluck, cluck (note the kind employee who was sent to make sure I didn’t get into any mischief with my weird skates and sticks.)
The nearest ice rink to me in York is quite a drive away, except for at Christmas, when a pop-up rink comes to the Designer Outlet every December. I decided to seize my chance and visit while my friend Ceara was down in York (for moral and at times quite literal support.)
Ceara is not only pretty great at skating, but is as unafraid of looking a tit in kit as I am. We called ahead, received a bemused thumbs up to the weirdest request they’d had all week at the rink and headed over in our winter best.
Apparently I thought we were posing like cast members at Disneyland. I don’t have any other pictures where I’m not doing that.
The bone skates turned out to be very comfortable and fit excellently onto my York turnshoes, made by my friend Dean. (They have their own article here!) At least with the wooden-pegged model of skates I tried, I found that the most secure way of wearing them was to thread your cordage through the front hole and criss-cross it over the foot in a figure eight, hooking both ends over the wooden peg and back up over the foot. It was easy and provided you use enough tension throughout, I found it to be very secure. It also helps that once you’re on your feet, your body weight kind of holds the skates in place and avoids any forward or backward slippage.
They’re quite comfortable too, far more than the modern skates we used afterwards. I couldn’t comment on their safety (I’m sure modern skates provide more ankle support) but *I* felt that my Viking skates were secure and that I was less likely to slip than on modern skates. The likelihood of me slipping was still worryingly high though, as I am not a good skater- picture Bambi on ice in a Dublin cap. My terror is quite evident in the pictures we took.
On the negative side, the Viking skates do limit your movement. As they are flat and don’t cut the ice, you have to push yourself along with a stick. This means a lot more physical exertion from the top of your body, whereas modern skates mostly require it from the legs to glide. I ended up bending over and kind of shuffling along, which was far from elegant and was pretty tiring. Ceara described it as like watching a 90 year old woman hobble along the ice and I can’t really argue with her.
I have no doubt that someone with more skill in skiing or skating would find them easier to use than I did and likely with practice and time, I would become more adept at using the skates. This would also have been easier if I wasn’t trying to learn on a very busy rink full of other curious skaters! (My terror was not decreased any when I swapped my Viking skates for modern ones.)
On modern skates that crushed our feet horribly, but don’t require poles to push yourself!
My experience skating on Viking Age skates made it clear to me why we switched to using metal blades rather than flat animal leg bones. However, I cannot deny that for the purposes of travel across ice, the skates *do* work and are far preferable to walking across on turnshoes alone. Maybe in the future, I’ll be lucky (and brave) enough to give them a try on a real frozen lake or river, like the people of Viking Age York!
From the bottom of my heart, I wish you all peace, joy and fun new experiences in 2024. Wæs hæl!
MacGregor, A., Mainman, A. J. and Rogers, N. S. H. (1999) Bone, Antler, Ivory and Horn from Anglo-Scandinavian and Medieval York. London: Council for British Archaeology. pp.1948-1999.
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Location: Wood Quay, Dyflin (Dublin), Ireland. Date: Mid 10th century and mid 11th century. Culture: Early Hiberno-Scandinavian. Estimated Social Status: Affluent urban freewoman.
The following photos show two sets of speculative clothing based on archaeological finds from Viking Dublin, set approximately a century apart. My goal is to combine these items according to their proper dating and present them in context, to provide a more whole view of how a citizen of Dylfin could have looked. I also aim to demonstrate how fashion changed over that century, even if the changes might seem modest or slow when compared to our modern world.
It is unfortunate that there are almost no contemporary detailed images from Viking Dublin that show the people who lived there. As a result, I must rely primarily on metal, glass and bone items that have survived intact, with clothing being based upon Hiberno-Scandinavian textile remains from the town, Scandinavian finds and contemporary illuminations from Britain and Scandinavia. As a result, my interpretation is just that- an interpretation. You might examine the evidence available to us and come to a different conclusion of how it should be combined and therefore how people may have looked. That’s quite alright too!
As usual, unless mentioned, all photos are my own. Any photos taken from archaeological publications are referenced and used here for educational purposes. Most of the kit photos are taken on Winetavern Street, Fishamble Street or in the grounds of St Audoen’s Church on High Street, all areas of Dublin inhabited in the Hiberno-Scandinavian period.
Mid 10th century outfit
Dublin cap (DHC33.) Early-mid 10th century, Fishamble Street.
If this cap looks familiar to you, it is because I have already written about this last month in its own article! In dimensions, material and fabric weave, this wool cap is based on cap DHC33, as described in Wincott Heckett (2003.) It is woven in a plain/tabby weave and dyed by me with madder, though the original cap was not subjected to dye analysis. The braid on the front edge is made from naturally pigmented brown yarn and whipstitched in place.
Gold and silk brocaded headband (E190:1194) 10th century, Fishamble Street.
This is a famous and much-replicated find among re-enactors. The so-called “Dublin dragons” motif is described by Pritchard (2021) as “gold-brocaded tablet-woven band, width 9 mm made with 31 tablets from Fishamble Street, Dublin.” Most bands seen in re-enactment with this pattern will be much wider than 9mm (no judgement- I love this pattern and have several very pretty wool items woven in this pattern!) but for this, I wanted something closer to the original. The extremely talented Alicja of Kram Ammy on Etsy wove this for me and despite using the finest silk she had, she still wasn’t able to weave it any narrower than 10mm without the pattern becoming warped. It dates to the latter half of the 10th century, though several other brocaded silk bands were found in Wood Quay in the 10th and late 11th century layers.
E190:1194 in Pritchard (2021.)
As all of the tablet woven remains at Dublin were fragmentary and not in a grave context, we are left to imagine of what they were originally part. Pritchard (2021) has suggested that they were part of narrow fillets (or at least in conjunction with some headcovering) following the contemporary evidence from Scandinavia- she says that in terms of technique, the Dublin brocaded bands are closest to finds from Denmark. No dye analysis was conducted on the silk part of E190:1194, but madder has been found on other silk and wool textiles in Dublin so I opted for a bright madder red. I’ve seen some truly stunning replicas done in ivory silk and gold (which could very well be what it looked like if the silk was undyed), like this example by Kristine Vike.
Lozenge brooch in lead alloy (E81:4681.) 10th century, Winetavern Street.
E81:4681. Source: Wallace (2016, p. 369.)
The brooch at my neckline is a pewter lozenge brooch, a style from England originally that made its way to Viking Dublin in the 10th century alongside the more common disc brooches. (Wallace, 2016.) Lead alloy jewellery items like these brooches have been found in large numbers at several English sites, most notably York and Cheapside in London, where they were most likely being produced. (You can see the whole Cheapside Hoard on the Museum of London collections website.) It is of course possible that local copies of these foreign pieces were being produced in Viking Dublin, but we cannot know for sure if this example is imported or a homegrown copy.
Such items would have been affordable and easy to produce, but might have cost a little more than some of the simpler styles of fastenings made from wood or bone. (Mainman & Rogers, 2000.) My version is not a replica of E81:4681, as I couldn’t find anybody making them. It is however a copy of an extremely similar brooch found in Lincolnshire, made by Blueaxe Reproductions.
Bead necklace (E81:4869 & E81:4870.) 10th century, Winetavern Street.
The Catalogue of Exhibition (1973) for the National Museum of Ireland describes E81:4870 as follows: “Thirteen green glass beads, two amber beads and four fragments of green glass beads (not exhibited.) The glass beads are globular and coiled and measure from 3mm. to 7mm. long. The amber beads, light in colour, are 6mm. in diameter. 10th century. Winetavern Street.” with E81:4869 being described as “Similar in every way to those described above.” They were found scattered together in the same area in the street, so were catalogued and displayed together.
E81:4869 & E81:4870 on display at the National Museum of Ireland.
I put together my necklaces using some vintage green glass beads and some faux-amber glass beads from Tillerman Beads. My beads are ever so slightly larger than the originals and they are far more even- the original green glass beads were quite crudely made with lots of lumps and bumps. They are however close in colour and size, with the threading order being left up to interpretation. It is unknown what the originals were threaded with due to deterioration of the threading medium, but I chose to use undyed linen thread as it would have been readily available at the time.
Wool dress in 2/1 diamond twill, mimicking lichen purple (and woad?) dye. 10th century, inspired by several Dublin textile fragments.
My 10th century dress is made of a lightweight and fine 2/1 diamond twill wool, which was bought secondhand from a friend. It was not dyed naturally, but with modern chemical dyes in the pursuit of quite a different shade than it ended up. I use it here in order to mimic a shade of lichen purple, a dyestuff that was found on numerous textiles in Viking Dublin (Walton, 1988.) An exhaustive catalogue of all the textiles found in Dublin (of the kind we have from York!) is sadly not available to my knowledge, so basing my textiles on specific individual finds has been challenging. Pritchard (2020) does however mention a mid-10th century fragment of 2/2 chevron twill from the Fishamble Street site that tested positive for lichen purple and describes it as the “finest of the warp-chevron twills” from that deposit. The finest examples of twill weave wools from Dublin are equivalent in quality to those found in high status contexts at Cnip, York, London and Birka. This indicates that there were Hiberno-Scandinavian folks living within Dyflin that had both the money and connections to own some very nice cloth, potentially imported from abroad. (Pritchard, 2014.)
I am stood on the site of the original Viking Age dwellings on Winetavern Street. I’d invite you in, but it’s a bit drafty these days!
When it comes to lichen purple itself, I cannot be certain that this shade is perfect as it was not dyed naturally. There are a great many species of lichen that produce orchil dye and many of them produce more of a magenta or hot pink than a modern purple! Lichen are also slow-growing and many species are protected, so collecting them for the purpose of anything other than mini-dyebaths is generally discouraged. If you are not convinced by this colour representing lichen purple alone, there is a contemporary find of fine diamond twill from London dyed with lichen purple and woad, both dyestuffs being commonly found (albeit not together) among the Dublin textiles (Pritchard, 2020.)
Another cool thing about this fabric that I wasn’t sure where else to mention: it has been suggested that fine diamond twills like these were being polished by Viking Age Dubliners in order to bring out the natural check pattern that is produced when weaving them. The broken remains of what is thought by archaeologists to be glass smoothing stones (found all over the Viking world, including in York) were recovered during the Dublin excavations. When rubbed with a smooth surface like these glass proto-irons, it can cause the surface of wool cloth to become shiny and smooth, bringing out the details of the weave (Pritchard, 2014, 2020.) I think that’s pretty cool, but it has not been proven just yet!
In terms of pattern, I kept it very simple as I generally do. I made a slim-fitting skirted dress with side gores from the waist, underarm gores for movement and a round keyhole neckline. The tunics from Skjoldehamn, Moselund and Kragelund (dated to late 10th-early 11th century) all feature similar constructions with mostly rectangular bodies and triangular gores to add width and shape. Contemporary English, Scandinavian and Continental sources show ankle-length dresses fitting this silhouette on all female figures. You might also notice that my side gores have been pieced using offcuts- this is not based on a specific Dublin find, but for economy. Piecing is evidenced in several extant Viking Age garments and it demonstrates that historical people didn’t necessarily share our need for symmetry. My dress is handsewn using fine linen thread, waxed in beeswax.
Underneath, I’m wearing a bleached linen underdress of much the same construction and pattern.
Needlebound textile, based on fragment (E190:7430.) 10th century, Fishamble Street.
Detail of E190:7430. Source: Pritchard (1992) p. 102.
I am currently working on a pair of needlebound socks using the Dublin stitch, which was used in a tiny fragment found in Fishamble Street. The original fragment is too small to determine what item it belonged to, so I am taking inspiration from the York sock (the stitch type of which seems similar in structure to Dublin stitch!) E190:7430 is described in Pritchard (1992) as being made from two-ply (Z/S-ply) wool yarn dyed with lichen purple.
Since lichen purple is hard to come by and takes a long time to produce, I used a naturally dyed purplish madder yarn that I obtained several years ago at Wolin. My goal is eventually to have some real lichen dye to dye a fleece with and spin it into some yarn suitable for a better quality E190:7430 replica.
Cloak in 2/2 diagonal twill, mimicking woad dye. 10-11thC, based on several textiles from Fishamble Street and other Dublin sites.
At the top of Fishamble Street.
My cloak is a very simple square item measuring approximately 150x150cm, made by me from a heavy wool twill from Old Craft. Two of the edges are selvedge and the other two I unravelled for a fringe on each edge. I’m gradually working my way through tasselling it, though the current fringe seems to be holding up admirably in the meantime. It is not naturally dyed, but is similar in shade to a deep woad dye. Heavier twills using thicker and coarser yarns were found among the Fishamble Street textile assembly (Pritchard, 2014.) It is thought that some of these heavier twills may have made up outer garments like cloaks, though no whole cloak has been found there. A comprehensive discussion of the evidence for women’s cloaks in the Viking Age by Hilde Thunem can be found here.
Some of these heavier twills show evidence of pile having been inserted into the weave, which would result in a shaggy and hard-wearing textile somewhat like a woollen faux fur (Pritchard, 1992.) 10-11th century finds of this type of textile from all across the Viking world supports the idea that shaggy cloaks were quite fashionable and it has been suggested that Ireland could have been one of the areas producing them. I’m already working on a pile woven cloak based on York fragments, but perhaps when I have a spare few months (so never), I could warp up my loom and weave myself a shaggy Dublin mantle. Watch this space!
Regarding the brooch, it is an Asgard replica of a 10th century York find, 10601. (Mainman & Rogers, 2000.) Similar to my lozenge brooch at the neckline, I faced the problem of no jewellers selling good quality replicas of the Dublin finds. If I am wrong, please tell me- this is a case where I would love to be wrong (though my wallet may not.) In the discussion of my lozenge brooch, I mentioned that mass-produced lead-alloy brooches were being imported into Dublin from England, many of them being disc brooches. Over 30 disc brooches were found in the Dublin excavations (Wallace, 2016) and it’s fascinating to see how similar some of them are to finds from London and York.
York disc brooch 10601. Source: Mainman & Rogers. (2000.) p.2573.
So, I decided to choose a York brooch that was as similar to one of the Dublin examples as I could and I settled on York’s item 10601 as a replacement for Dublin’s E122:1 (found in Christchurch Place.) They are both cast lead-alloy disc brooches, decorated with a florid scrollwork design in the centre and surrounded by rings of “beaded” borders. This is a very English design and judging by their geographical spread, it would seem that mass-produced brooches like this were popular in Early Medieval trade centres like Dublin. While they were especially popular in the 10th century and that is when they first appear in Dublin, I could very well have worn this disc brooch for my 11th century impression too, as their popularity did continue well past 1000AD.
Mid 11th century outfit
Silk veil (DHC17 or E172:9115) Early 11th century, Fishamble Street.
The various ways of wearing (and not wearing) the silk veil.
DHC17 is described as follows: “Veil-type cloth. Fishamble Street II, E172:9115. (…) Fibre: Silk. Weave: Tabby, open. Colour: Reddish brown (…) retains remains of red colour. (…) Dye: Analysis undertaken; lichen purple detected.” (Wincott Heckett, 2003.)
My replica of this item was made by Blueaxe Reproductions, using silk hand-dyed by the Mulberry Dyer. It is made to the same dimensions as the original and it is interesting to note that while this is the largest headcovering found in Viking Dublin, it doesn’t come close to the size of many veils or wimples seen in contemporary English art.
It is my personal belief that while DHC17 was undoubtedly a luxury item made from imported material, it could very well represent wealthy urban fashion as opposed to that being worn by the very highest echelons of society at the time. This could explain the restrained size of the item when compared to the idealised depictions in artwork, as it is not only more economical but prudent to wear a slightly less huge and voluminous piece of cloth in the muddy lanes of Dyflin, even if you are wealthy. This theory also applies to the size of silk caps found in Dublin and other Viking trade centres, which in reconstruction very rarely cover the whole head of an adult (I don’t buy the idea that they were all children’s garments.)
The size of DHC17 also contributed to my decision to wear my braids down- unless worn in conjunction with and weighed down by a heavy cloak, it’s not really possible to get DHC17 to cover your whole head and neck. It’s possible that commoners may have been less strict about covering their entire head and hairline in the way we see in artwork, so I tried that out here. We really don’t have much to go on, other than the remains of headcoverings (which are skimpy) and the drawings of veiled women (which are decidedly not skimpy.) A tiny 11-12th century figurine in the National Museum of Ireland (item 2002:85) is probably Irish rather than Hiberno-Scandinavian, but she also bucks the veiled trend with her braids and I am enchanted by her:
She is made from copper-alloy and came from an unknown locality in Ireland, which really sucks because she is adorable and a rare detailed female depiction from this period. If you really disagree with this styling of my veil for an 11th century impression, rest assured- I restyled it later when putting on my cloak and it resembles a more traditional 11th century silhouette.
Due to heavy winds while we were taking pictures of the rest of my outfit, I had to secure my veil with my brocaded headband in order to avoid losing it! While the Dublin dragons fragment dates to the 10th century rather than the 11th, these brocaded silk fillets were very much still in fashion by the time DHC17 was being worn. Remains of another gold brocaded band were found in nearby Christchurch Place, dating to the late 11th century. (Pritchard, 2021.)
Wool dress in 2/2 diamond twill, dyed with indigotin. 10-11thC, inspired by several Dublin textile fragments.
My dress is made from a 2/2 diamond twill wool, dyed using indigo- Viking Age Dubliners would have used woad, but the colour compound in indigo and woad (indigotin) is the exact same. Preferably I should have used a 2/1 diamond twill for this project: Pritchard (2020) notes that while 2/2 diamond twills do appear in 11th century levels at Fishamble Street, they are rare. Interestingly, plain 2/2 weaves made up the largest group of textiles at this site. Next time, I would replace this either with a 2/1 diamond twill or a plainer diagonal twill, which would be more inkeeping with evidence for Fishamble Street at this time. Underneath, I am wearing the same bleached linen underdress as I did for my 10th century set.
In terms of pattern, my blue dress is very similar to my purple one. To what extent we can really recreate a 10th century dress versus an 11th century one is limited, as we have no finds of dresses or even tunics from Ireland (or even from Britain!) for this era. My 11th century dress does have gores at the sides to add width at the skirt, but by the 11th century, women’s fashion tends to favour a long and relatively slim silhouette with skirts not being drawn as voluminous. This suited me well, as my fabric was composed of an offcut and I did not have the cloth to add too many gores.
Never underestimate the power of 24 hours in a suitcase to crease everything you own.
For my sleeves however, I did use a slightly looser cut, a trend which can be seen in English and Continental manuscripts from the 10th century onwards and only increases as the 11th century goes on. These sleeves would eventually become extremely wide (examples can be seen on queenly figures) and must be related to the Norman bliaut that would become in vogue in Britain after the Norman Conquest. Examine these examples of English illuminated manuscripts and artwork from the mid 10th to late 11th century and keep in mind that by the 11th century, a significant portion of the country’s ruling class was Anglo-Scandinavian:
As my Dublin 11th century lady is an urban commoner, I doubt that she would be sporting the floor-length sleeves of the royals. It would be incredibly impractical and potentially outside her price range, especially if she was using imported cloth. It is however my belief that she would be aware of the trends from abroad, as she lived in a bustling trade centre that we know was receiving regular imports from Britain and the Continent. While it’s unlikely that she would have access to the illuminated manuscripts featuring the elite that we use as our sources, we can observe a general trend of sleeve growth when comparing images of women throughout the Early Medieval period in Northern Europe. I see no reason why this trend could not have been reflective of actual clothing being worn contemporarily. I therefore feel comfortable in my mercantile lady indulging in a slightly baggier sleeve on her overdress than her grandmother might have.
Tablet woven belt (E172:11815.) Late 10th- early 11th century, Fishamble Street.
This belt is based on tablet woven fragment of woollen braid, found in Fishamble Street and dating to the late 10th- early 11th century. The original item E172:11815 was woven on 16 four-hole tablets using a wool yarn of semi-fine fleece type (Pritchard, 2021.)
E172:11815 in Pritchard (2021.)
As I could find no details of dye analysis and images of the band show no discernable colour, I wove my first version in a naturally pigmented dark wool. Eventually my goal is to replace this with another replica made with a smoother and finer yarn, dyed with one of the natural dyes found on other Viking Dublin textiles. A smoother yarn would also improve the texture of the band, as the original still shows its pattern well and it is less defined on my version.
To what extent belts were worn by women in Viking Age Dublin is not known. As I wished to include my tooled leather knife sheath in this impression, I chose to include a belt so the sheath could be suspended from it. The original purpose of E172:11815 is also unknown as it survived only as a fragment, but its narrow width of 12mm and plain weave makes it quite suitable as a belt.
Tooled leather sheath (DLS 83 or E122:13138.) c. 1050-1070, Christchurch Place.
The leather sheath DLS 83 or E122:13138 is described in Cameron (2007) as follows: “Sheath; complete. The flap has three holes, the top corner stitched. Back seam, stitched at 5mm intervals. Tooled decoration. On the front, upper section, running scroll with hatched borders; lower section, a faint three-strand plait. On the back, upper section, a vertical band and three diamond-shaped motifs in a panel; lower section, two vertical lines.”
Dating to the mid 11th century, my sheath is classified as a “B2, winged” type. B2, winged was a new style of sheath that first starts appearing in the 11th century and apparently some of the oldest examples of it were found during the Dublin excavations. This new style was inspired by a combination of sheaths from various cultures present in 10th century Dublin, taking design features from them all in turn. The style was seemingly adopted with gusto by the leatherworkers in Hiberno-Scandivian Dublin and sheaths belonging to this style are found there for another 250 years, even surviving Ireland’s Norman invasion (Cameron, 2007.) B2, winged sheaths are commonly found tooled with decorative abstract designs, my sheath is therefore quite representative of its type.
My version was created several years ago by Merchant of Menace, to accompany a little knife with a bone handle that I use for my day-to-day Viking household tasks. I couldn’t bring my knife along with me to Ireland in my hand luggage, so you shall have to imagine I have it somewhere out of shot. (This is an issue that I am sure would have proved extremely problematic for the early Scandinavians “visiting” the Dublin area in the 9th century, had they travelled via Ryanair longships.)
DLS 83 (or E122:13138) line drawing. Source: Cameron (2007, p. 85.)
Jet ring (E81:10, E172:10608, etc.) Winetavern Street, Fishamble Street.
A selection of jet or lignite items on display at the National Museum of London.
Finger rings were found in Dublin, as well as bracelets with a D-cross section that seem to have been popular and many other fragments. The broken and unfinished pieces would provide evidence for jet being worked in the town, after being imported from Whitby. Wallace (2016, p.298) suggests that one possible location for jet working could be in Yard 2 of Fishamble Street, where it is certain that amber was being worked on a commercial level in the Viking Age.
My ring is made from agate instead of jet, as I couldn’t find an affordable jet ring in one piece like this. However, it has the same D-cross section as several of the Dublin rings and is solidly black enough (and light enough in weight) to give the same impression as jet. If I could ever find a piece of jet large enough and a craftsperson willing to make it, I’d love to replace it with a jet or lignite version in the future.
Turned wooden bowl. 11th century, Fishamble Street.
The original was made of alder, whereas mine is of ash. It was made by Waffle and Wood based upon a photo shared by Irish Archaeology.ie. It is not mentioned in Viking-Age Decorated Wood (Lang, 1988), however, this is not unusual- I don’t know of a publicly available exhaustive catalogue of all the wood found in Wood Quay. Turned bowls and cups are commonly found at Early Medieval sites and Dublin is no exception. The fragments of at least 600 turned wooden vessels and 300 cores were found across numerous sites in the town. Wallace (2016, p.251) suggests that the sheer volume of finds would support turned vessels not only being used in the town often but also being produced there too.
My replica.
Stylistically, the Dublin bowls generally tend to be straight-sided- this bowl does not fit the trend. However, it is decorated on the outside with incised lines, which is a feature seen on other contemporary bowls from the area. The fact that the bowl retained its foot after the turning process is interesting, as they are usually removed. We’re not sure exactly what the bowl was made to contain or if it even had a specific purpose- I used mine to hold some hazelnuts, which were a popular foodstuff in Viking Dublin (Geraghty, 1996.)
I for one would absolutely love some more information on this item from Fishamble Street!
Source: Irish Archaeology.ie
Bone ringed pin (E172:13988.) 945-55AD, Fishamble Street.
Now is my time to admit a small mistake. I’m not sure if it was the wind, the cold or the excitement getting to me, but I somehow got it into my head that the bone ringed pin E172:13988 dated to the 11th century. It does not, it was dated quite concretely using a coin found on its level to 945-55AD- so it would have been more at home perhaps with my 10th century set. Whoops! Then again, ringed pins of this design (albeit in metal) are a Hiberno-Scandinavian specialty that became popular in the 10th century in Dublin and remained so for another 200 years at least (Fanning, 1994.) They are thought to be Irish in origin and adopted into Hiberno-Scandinavian fashion, where they spread in popularity to Britain and Scandinavia. So perhaps, had I worn a metal version of this pin, it wouldn’t be such a mistake after all!
E172:13988 on display at the National Museum of Ireland.
The remarkable and rare thing about E172:13988 is that it is made entirely from bone. My replica (which is highly cherished and only worn this once for the photos!) was made and gifted to me by my friend Peter Merrett. Peter, like the Viking Age craftsman who made the original must have been, is marvellously talented and has decades of experience in boneworking. Despite this, he said that he would not be making any more of these in a hurry, as they are difficult to make and too easy to break. He reckons that E172:13988 may have been a show of skill for the craftsman or perhaps one of those “really good ideas” that you quickly realise is not so good once you start.
Fanning (1994) describes E172:13988 as follows: “Bone. Polished bone shank tapers to fine point. Head is actually perforated in an hourglass fashion but is nicked below to give the impression of being looped, hence skeuomorphic of a metal looped-over pin. The small lozenge-sectioned ring is slightly damaged, with one narrowed end complete. It swivels freely in the pin-head.” (p. 113.)
I had to look up what “skeuomorphic” meant and apparently it means when a thing has a feature that is included to make it look functional, but it’s purely decorative. In the case of E172:13988, that means that the original ring didn’t originally swivel round in the hole of the pin, whereas Peter’s version does (as he is a master of his craft and was able to manage without breaking it!) You learn something every day!
References
Cameron, E. (2007). Scabbards and Sheaths from Viking and Medieval Dublin. Dublin: National Museum of Ireland.
Fanning, T. (1994). Viking Age Ringed Pins from Dublin. Dublin: Royal Irish Academy.
Geraghty, S. (1996). Viking Dublin: Botanical Evidence from Fishamble Street. Dublin: Royal Irish Academy. p.43.
Mainman, A. J. & Rogers, N. S. H. (2000) Craft, Industry and Everyday Life: Finds from Anglo-Scandinavian York. York: Council for British Archaeology. p.2571-2574.
National Museum of Ireland. (1973). Catalogue of Exhibition. Dublin: Department of Education.
Pritchard, F. (1992). Aspects of the Wool Textiles from Viking Age Dublin. In: Bender Jørgensen, L & Munksgaard, E. (Eds). Archaeological Textiles in Northern Europe: Report from the 4th NESAT Symposium. Copenhagen: Det Kongelige Danske Kunstakademi. pp.93-104.
Pritchard, F. (2014). Textiles from Dublin. In: Coleman, N. L. & Løkka, N. (Eds). Kvinner i vikingtid. Oslo: Scandinavian Academic Press. pp.224-240.
Pritchard, F. (2020). Twill Weaves from Viking Age Dublin. In: Bravermanová, M., Březinová, H. & Malcolm-Davies, J. (Eds). Archaeological Textiles – Links Between Past and Present NESAT XIII. Langenweißbach: Verlag Beier & Beran. pp.115-123.
Pritchard, F. (2021). Evidence of tablet weaving in Viking-age Dublin. In: Pritchard, F. (Ed). Crafting Textiles: Tablet Weaving, Sprang, Lace and Other Techniques from the Bronze Age to the Early 17th Century. Oxford: Oxbow Books.
Wallace, P. F. (2016). Viking Dublin: The Wood Quay Excavations. Sallins: Irish Academic Press. pp.251-309.
Wincott Heckett, E. (2003) Viking Age Headcoverings from Dublin. Dublin: Royal Irish Academy.
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This cap is based on item DHC33 from Fishamble Street, just one of the roads in Viking Dublin’s Wood Quay neighbourhood. All of the street photographs were taken on location in nearby Winetavern Street, Dublin.
DHC33 was made of wool and like all of the Dublin caps (silk or wool) it was woven in tabby/plain weave. It was found in layers that dated to the early-mid 10th century and its estimated size as a cloth piece was 490mm x 185mm. (Wincott Heckett, 2003). The other caps found in Dublin are extremely similar in size to DHC33, which could indicate a central production site somewhere in Viking Dublin.
Fig. 53. DHC33 (E172:11205), cap from Fishamble Street. From Wincott Heckett, E. (2003) p. 60.
Similar to all the other suspected caps from Wood Quay, DHC33 showed evidence of a curved seam along the outside of the crown. This results in the distinctive shark’s fin look I am sporting here. Something I didn’t include in my own version was that a small amount of fabric was cut away from the back “fin” after the curve was sewn and then whipstitched to prevent fraying. To my shame, I will admit that I didn’t include this because I didn’t read the literature closely enough before making it- the drawings show such a small amount having been removed that I cannot fathom why they did it.
This trimming of the “fin” is not a feature shared by any of the other caps, though there are other small, conspicuous variations in how the caps were put together. I wonder if these were slightly different methods used by different craftspeople within the same workshop- I know I have my own preferences of how I sew that differ from my friends!
Due to the incomplete nature of DHC33, we’re not sure if the back seam would have been originally sewn closed the entire way up the back or left half open at the bottom, like some recreations of the Lincoln silk cap and caps DHC39 and 40 from Dublin. I decided to keep mine closed, but I’d like to make a version of an open cap soon- I think this would look really nice over a bun held in place with one of the many small pins found in Wood Quay.
The cap worn tied behind the head, side profile.
What you might find interesting is that the silk caps from York and Lincoln (fairly contemporary to the Dublin caps) both feature the curved type of seam over the crown too, except on the inside of the garments- see my recreation of the York one here. This results in a cap curved to fit the contour of the wearer’s head, with the excess point of fabric being hidden inside the cap. These resemble later Medieval coifs more closely.
Detail of 364r “Meister Gottfried von Straßburg” from the Manesse Codex, 14thC. Source. (I just wish I looked this cute and sassy in my caps!)
Like the majority of the Dublin textile remains, this cap was not analysed for dye. In my recreation, I decided to dye my cap fabric with madder and was surprised to achieve a really good robust red for once. Madder was detected on some of the Dublin textiles that were subjected to dye analysis (Pritchard, 1992) and it is commonly found at other sites across the Viking world. (Walton, 1989.)
The cap worn tied behind the head, back view.
Another distinctive feature of this cap is the decorative braid along its front edge. It is described as:
“Edging cord, very dark brown wool, 5mm diameter, matching cap in colour, of six strands 1mm each in diameter, Z-cabled together, each strand Z-spun 2(S)-plied. Cord whip-stitched onto hemmed edge, 3 stitches per 10mm, 6mm long and slanting to form decorative edging.” (Wincott Heckett, 2003)
I chose to use a naturally pigmented dark brown wool for my cord in order to have a bit of contrast, but it’s not clear if the original would have since no dye analysis was performed. DHC33 also had a small piece of wool yarn sewn to the front edge, a few inches above the corner. Could this be the remains of a tie? I chose to use more robust linen ties, inspired by the small remaining piece of sewn linen tie extant on the front edge of DHC40, a contemporary silk cap found in the same level of Fishamble Street.
How were the Dublin caps worn?
The cap tied under the chin, front view.The cap tied underneath the chin, side profile.The cap tied underneath the chin, back view.
Personally, I think that wearing the Dublin caps tied behind the head results in the overall most flattering fit from the front and side. This is of course informed by my modern aesthetics and sense of style, so my own preference doesn’t necessarily indicate which way of wearing it is most accurate or likely. Wearing the caps with the ties underneath the chin is a bit goofy, but it does make it fit more securely and tightly to the head, which is warmer in the windy and rainy terrain near the Liffey.
If you like my Viking Dublin content, please stay tuned- I created this cap as part of a whole speculative Wood Quay outfit. These photos are just a handful of a larger photo-shoot on location and the outfit article is coming very soon.
References
Pritchard, F. (1992). Aspects of the Wool Textiles from Viking Age Dublin. In: Bender Jørgensen, L. and Munksgaard, E. (Ed). Archaeological Textiles in Northern Europe: Report from the 4th NESAT Symposium. Copenhagen: Det Kongelige Danske Kunstakademi. pp.93-104.
Walton, P. (1989) Textiles, Cordage and Raw Fibre from 16–22 Coppergate. York: York Archaeological Trust. PDF.
Wincott Heckett, E. (2003) Viking Age Headcoverings from Dublin. Dublin: Royal Irish Academy.
If you liked this article, please consider following my blog for updates when I post. If you really liked it, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi account and help me afford to keep the lights on! You don’t need to make an account and I keep 100% of whatever you decide to tip me.
Last year, I published an article on a set of Coppergate-inspired clothing. In that article, I mentioned that the shoes and socks I was wearing with that outfit were not exactly what I had hoped to include. I remedied this not long after we took the photo set and so now I’d like to share the new items with you!
One-piece ankle-shoes, fastened with a single toggle and flap (classified as Style 4a1)
These shoes were made for me by my friend Dean, who is a wonderful shoemaker. They’re entirely handsewn on maple sewing supports, with the purpose of making them as close to the original finds as possible.
Detail of diagram on p.3275 of Mould, Carlisle and Cameron (2003.)
Shoes with a single flap and toggle are dated to c.930/5–c.975 AD in York, with seventeen examples from 16-22 Coppergate. Single examples were found in deposits each dating to the late 9th century and to the 11th century, but it does seem that this style saw its heyday in the mid 10th century. Shoes belonging to this style have been found at other VA sites in York and further afield. (Mould, Carlisle, & Cameron, 2003. p.3304.)
Detail of the upper edge and the goatskin binding.
My shoes are made of soft calfskin uppers and thicker bovine leather for the soles. They have a decorative edge binding along the top edge made from goatskin, which is folded over and whipstitched down on the inside. This binding also serves to stiffen the fine leather of the uppers. To sew my shoes, Dean used a saddle stitch of a strong linen thread coated in shoemaker’s coad, a homemade blend of beeswax and birch tar. The most common stitching medium in the York shoes seems to have been animal fibre such as wool or leather thonging (MacGregor (1978), p.53), however, there is a find from Feasegate that appears to have been sewn with flax.
Details of the toggles.
Something interesting you may notice about these shoes is that both the toggle flaps and the single seams in the uppers are on the inside of the shoe. You will likely have seen many reproductions of boots like these with the toggles on the outside, which might seem more logical. However, the examples of these shoes from York all fasten over the instep and when you put them on, it is indeed easier to fasten them that way!
The toggles are very simple T-shapes of leather, with a slit cut in the top of the T and the length being pulled through in order to roll the toggle itself. The toggles and the loops they go through are secured to the shoe in one of several ways, but the most common is also the most simple- they are threaded through a series of slits cut into the flaps and inner quarters of the shoe. The tension of the leather holds the straps in place, but this method also allows for the fit to be adjusted. (Mould, Carlisle and Cameron, 2003. pp. 3302.)
The original wooden last, item 494 from the Lloyds Bank site. Photo credit Dean Thompson.
The last/support that Dean made my shoes on was based on a find from Lloyds Bank, item 494. (MacGregor, 1982. pp. 144.) The original dated to the 10th century and was made from alder, whereas Dean’s is made of maple. I thought it was interesting to note that item 494 still had pieces of leather attached to the wood with iron nails, but probably not from shoes. It appears that there was an attempt to build up the surface of the last using these pieces of leather, either from wear and tear from use or indeed from being a little axe-happy in the initial shaping of the last.
Dean’s replica in maple wood.
Woollen needlebound (nalbound) socks in York/Coppergate stitch. Based on item 1309 from 16-22 Coppergate (Period 4B.)
One of the most famous surviving textiles of Viking Age Britain: the York sock! For many readers, it will need no introduction. For those who are not familiar with it, I’ll briefly explain what needlebinding (or nalebinding or naalbinding) is and quite why this sock is so special.
Illustration from Walton (1989), pp. 342.
Needlebinding is a technique for making cloth that only uses a single needle and lengths of yarn that have to be added as you go. It’s an ancient technique with examples being found dating back to the 3rd or 4th century AD in Sweden (though it could even have been practiced as far back as the Neolithic.) (Walton, 1989.) There are many different needlebinding stitches and each results in a slightly different texture, pattern, density and level of elasticity. Something that all needlebinding has in common is that it doesn’t unravel, unlike knitting or crochet.
At the time of its discovery, the York sock was the only example of needlebinding found in England. York/Coppergate stitch, the stitch the sock is worked in, was named after the sock and is described in needlebinding terminology as uu/ooo F2. The sock itself is in pretty good condition, with most of its structure remaining. It was made up of undyed S2Z plied wool yarn with a narrow band at the top of the sock being dyed with madder.
In my reconstruction, I chose to use a Shetland sock weight yarn from Highfield Textiles, a local wool producer from East Yorkshire. I hand-dyed the same yarn for the ankle band using madder, which resulted in a lovely rich orange-red. Like the original, my socks are slipper-style and don’t reach above the ankle. York stitch is also super stretchy, so when taken off, they tend to curl up- you can see this in the photos!
Footed short hose, inspired by various historical finds and fragment 1303 (Period 4B.)
The shape of these short hose is entirely speculative. Thunem (2018) gave a comprehensive overview of the topic of socks and hose in the Early Medieval period, which I highly recommend for further information. I made my first pair of these hose during the pandemic in a Zoom class taught by Astri Bryde and this pair is my second (with some alterations to improve personal fit.) As they are cut straight on the bias, they are not stretchy and so are not as tightly-tailored as later Medieval hose.
They’re inspired by earlier finds like the 2nd century stockings from Martres-de-Veyres, later finds like the 14th century Bocksten footed hose and of course the VA fragments from Haithabu Harbour. They’re made in two pieces, a long leg piece and a curved foot piece with the seam going under the foot (like the Skjoldehamn socks!) You might think that this would be uncomfortable, but it’s really not that noticeable and definitely not uncomfortable.
Diagram of fragment 1303, with weaving fault marked by an arrow. (Walton, 1989. pp.324.)
I chose to make these hose from a woven British tweed cloth, inspired by fragment 1303 from Coppergate. This fragment of 2/2 chevron twill was found in association with the naalbound York sock 1309. It is described in Walton (1989) as:
“Fragment, 140 x 60mm, of 2/2 chevron twill with dark combed warp and lighter non-combed weft, and selvedge. (…) Warp hairy fleece type, naturally pigmented, weft hairy medium fleece type, not pigmented. No dye detected. The softer weft has become heavily matted in places. The side of the fragment opposite the selvedge has been cut, there are two overstitches, possibly part of a hem at right-angles to the selvedge: sewing yarn plied wool, S2Z (…)”
Fabric woven in two shades is uncommon in the Viking Age generally, not just in York. Using two different shades for the warp and weft will make the pattern “pop” in a way that is less obvious when using one colour of yarn. Walton (1989) identifies 1303’s similarity to a fragment from Haithabu (thought to be a pair of hose!) and the lack of similar English finds lead her to conclude that 1303 was a foreign import. This idea is supported by the fact that 1303 was found in association with the York sock, also thought to be either a Scandinavian import or the handiwork of a Scandinavian settler.
I find it interesting that matting is mentioned, as I’ve only worn these hose twice and yet matting is visible underfoot and a little underneath the ties at the knee. This is to be expected with the friction, warmth and slight damp that comes with items worn on the feet.
Detail of ties.
The ties I used to hold up the hose were made in a hurry- they are thin braided cords made from fine naturally-pigmented brown wool yarn. Similar cords are found in 10th century levels at Coppergate, however they are generally cabled rather than plaited. Woven or tablet woven garters like the ones worn with later Medieval hose might well be another option in future.
The whole ensemble
Overall, I found this collection of garments comfortable and functional to wear. On both occasions, it was cold winter weather and provided I didn’t take them off to film a reel for Instagram (ahem), my feet were kept dry and well-insulated. I have worn the hose with socks underneath and without and naturally the combination was warmer. The seam underneath the sole of the foot did not affect my comfort and the hose didn’t slip down my leg once tied at the knee.
Being made to fit my feet, my shoes are extremely cosy and supportive. They are of course more comfortable on grass and earth than on concrete, but that is the case for all turnshoes. I am really won over by toggled shoes that fasten on the instep- I already have a pair with ties round the angles and these are just as comfy with a cooler silhouette.
If you’d like to see how this footwear looks as part of a complete outfit and also how they are put on, I made a Get Ready With Me video that features them on my Instagram.
Maybe she’s born with it? Maybe it’s Coppergate…
References
MacGregor, A. (1978). Industry and commerce in Anglo-Scandinavian York. In: Hall, R. A. (Ed). Viking Age York and the North. York: Council for British Archaeology. pp.37-57.
MacGregor, A. (1982). Anglo-Scandinavian Finds from Lloyds Bank, Pavement, and Other Sites. York: York Archaeological Trust. pp.144-145.
Mould, Q., Carlisle, I. and Cameron, E. (2003). Leather and Leatherworking in Anglo-Scandinavian and Medieval York. York: York Archaeological Trust. pp.3185-3535.
The weather we’ve had this past month has been scorching. Since I got back from Denmark, I’ve been hiding in the house and using work as an excuse to avoid the sun. My lovely friend Daisy is similarly melanin-deficient, but we can never resist the draw of foraging.
The little woodland near us has exploded in growth. The brambles are heavy with fruit and we were eager to harvest a few before they were gobbled by other foragers.
Blackberries are found in the archaeological record at York (Hall & Kenward, 2004) during the Viking Age. As someone interested in historical food from the UK, I’m always excited to use ingredients that can add some sweetness and tartness to dishes- depending on the season, these can be few and far between in the VA. I picked just shy of a kilo of blackberries and decided to use them to make a full period-plausible meal to enjoy with Eric and Daisy. I’ve included two easy recipes using the blackberries below- I don’t think you all need a recipe to roast a chicken!
The Menu: Roast chicken with blackberry sauce, drunken mushrooms, fried and boiled eggs, buttery pearl barley and wheat bread. Stewed blackberries and cherries with hazelnut cookies and cream. (Not all pictured, because we’re greedy.)
Drunken mushrooms (mushrooms cooked in beer, with onions, garlic and thyme.)Leave it to pearl barley to look uninspiring- yet I love the stuff. Buttery Viking risotto!Fresh berries- I can never resist eating at least a couple before cooking!These wonderful eggs are from our lovely next-door neighbours, who keep some happy hens in their garden. They’re delicious eggs and it added a sense of authenticity to our meal that they came from the neighbours! We had them hard-boiled one day and fried the next, on top of our roast.
Blackberry Gravy
This sauce can be paired with any meat- I chose to do chicken this time because I’d not roasted one in a while. It will however go very nicely with gamey meats like venison and pigeon or even with more traditional roasts like beef or pork. I imagine the addition of apple would go fabulously with a fatty pork joint.
Using meat drippings for this gravy will cause the fat to rise to the top and be less pretty, but it tastes much better. Just make sure not to add salt if you use drippings- that’s a lot of sodium!
Ingredients:
2 tbsp butter or vegetable oil
1 small brown onion or handful of shallots, chopped finely
2 cloves garlic, peeled
200g fresh blackberries
1 tbsp white wine vinegar
Meat drippings from your roast or 150ml stock of your choice
2 tbsp honey (adjust to taste)
Method:
1. Melt your butter over a low-medium heat and add your chopped onions and garlic. Cook gently until onions are just softening.
2. Wash your blackberries well and pat dry with kitchen paper. Add your blackberries, vinegar and meat drippings/stock to your onions and combine over a medium heat. Allow to simmer gently for around 5 minutes, stirring frequently to prevent burning.
3. Once your berries have softened and released their juice, taste your gravy and if you like, add your honey. Make sure honey is melted and combined, then serve hot over your meat.
Stewed blackberries and cherries
Stewed blackberries and cherries, in my pretty new cup from Ribe.
This is pretty bog-standard. Recipes for fruit pottages exist from later in the Medieval period and fruit soups of many kinds exist in several European cuisines to this day. Therefore, I reason that Viking Age folks would also have stewed their fruit if they had a glut from the hedge or the garden. Cherries have not been found in the archaeological record at York, but evidence can be found in both Hedeby and Dublin (Mitchell, 1987) and wild cherry is native to the UK.
This recipe is very tasty with porridge and yoghurt, but I served it on this occasion warm from the pot with cream and hazelnut cookies. My favourite recipe is written by my friend Craig, author of Eat Like A Viking and can be found here: give them a go!
Hazelnut cookies or patties.
Ingredients:
500g cherries, stones removed and halved
500g blackberries
100ml water or good sweet mead
2 tbsp honey
Small pinch of salt
Method:
1. Place water/mead in a saucepan and heat over a medium-high heat. Wash your fruit well and add to pan. Stir gently and frequently until the fruit mix comes to a simmer- no need to let it boil. Turn down the heat to medium and keep it at a simmer for about 8 minutes, until the fruit is soft and the liquid has reduced a little.
2. Carefully taste your fruit mix (it will be very hot!) and add honey to taste. Some people prefer a more tart flavour to their stewed fruits, whereas I love the taste of honey. Less honey is probably more historically accurate!
3. Serve immediately with cream and cookies. If you have any left over, this would make a great crumble or pie filling- but bear in mind that without sugar, it will be more runny than modern recipes.
If you were interested how this all looked as modern dish, here we are:
Absolutely banging.
All the items included in our meal are either represented in the archaeological record in Anglo-Scandinavian York or indeed would have been available to people living there. It’s unlikely that people would have eaten as richly as this every day, but for a little feast among friends after foraging for berries in the sun, I think it does nicely.
References
Hall, R. A. & Kenward, H. (2004). Setting People in their Environment: Plant and Animal Remains from Anglo-Scandinavian York. In: Hall, R. A. (Ed). Aspects of Anglo-Scandinavian York. York: York Archaeological Trust. pp.372-426.
Mitchell, G. F. (1987). Archaeology & Environment in Early Dublin. Medieval Dublin Excavations 1962-81, Series C, Volume 1. Dublin: Royal Irish Academy and the National Museum of Ireland.
Location: Dyflin (Dublin), Ireland Date: Mid to late 10th Century Culture: Hiberno Scandinavian Estimated Social Class: Free working woman
This Valentines Day wasn’t especially traditional, but it was one of my best ever. Due to Coronavirus nerfing many routes to Luxembourg from England, Eric and I had to fly via Dublin in order to see our family. We decided to make the most of it and stay for Valentines Day on the way back.
What did I want to do? I wanted to go to Wood Quay and pose in the cold in a quickly cobbled-together Dublin impression.
This outfit isn’t especially complex, as I could only take a small bag that would fit within my cabin luggage. That means no undertunic and no turnshoes- you can see my cowboy boots in later pictures. This set of gear is a work in progress and in future, I’ll be getting a few pairs of suitable shoes based on Dublin remains. (Note: if anyone has access to good publications on shoes from Viking Age Dublin, please hit me up!)
Wood Quay is a historic area of Dublin, only a stone’s throw away from bustling Temple Bar and the Ha’penny Bridge. It made headlines worldwide in the 1970s when the area was revealed to be an archaeological goldmine during the building of a new Dublin City Council headquarters. The story is actually fascinating and I can write a “For Dummies” article in future in folks are interested.
Excavations on Fishamble Street, showing the outlines of Hiberno-Scandinavian homes- they are Type 1 in shape. Photo credit: National Museum of Ireland.
The short version, however, is that there was nationwide and international protest against the development, in order to first properly excavate the whole block of all its rich historical goodies. Dublin City Council ignored them and built their new civic offices on the site anyway, with excavations finishing in the March of 1981 (Wallace, 2016.)
Headscarf based on fragment DHC6 (Fishamble Street)
I’ve written about this piece before (my article about it can be read here.) It’s a plain weave woollen scarf, dyed with an exhaust woad bath over a naturally pale grey. It was found on Fishamble Street and dated to the mid 10th century. I tasselled the ends by hand and the dimensions of the scarf are based directly on the textile remains labelled DHC6, though my tassels are slightly simpler than the original.
I like to wear it by itself without a cap and with a simple woollen fillet (tablet woven), but it could easily be combined with other headbands and caps to give different looks. I tied my hair with a very simple finger loop braid- we don’t have any evidence that I know of for hair ties in the Viking Age, but simple cords, braids and thonging must have been used.
I imagine that a weakly dyed item of wool such as this could reasonably have been worn by an average city dweller wanting to keep up with trends. It isn’t a large item and so likely would not have carried the same prestige as the huge voluminous veils worn by queens and saints in manuscripts, however, it could have served to provide either some form of modesty or just fashion for the wearer. Wincott-Heckett (2003) suggests that these small tasselled scarves were of local production and so could indicate a local fashion.
Amber pendant in cross shape (Fishamble Street)
This pendant was made for me by my friend Peter Merrett, based on an example found on Fishamble Street (E190:6248.) It was dated to the mid to late 10th century.
My version is in a lighter amber than the original, which was more orange. Lots of amber fragments were found in the Wood Quay area and particularly in Fishamble Street. Wallace (2016, p.291) explains how at least one house specifically (FS 20 at building level 5 in yard 2) showed evidence that it was the main centre of amber production in late 10th century Dyflin. 257 objects were found in and around the site, while 1,240 worked amber pieces in various stages of completion were also discovered there.
Amber was found in fifty-three of the buildings on Fishamble Street, with 41% of them being recovered from FS 20 and its yard. The Dublin amber finds were made up of beads, pendants, rings and of course the waste and unworked amber nuggets. While some of the amber items for sale in Dublin may have been for a foreign market, it seems that the cruciform pendants had a local flavour- cross pendants in amber haven’t been found in England and the English jet crosses aren’t especially similar in style in my opinion.
Since amber would have been a commonly traded good in the Wood Quay neighbourhood, I envision my Dublin woman as having a piece or two. Perhaps like me, she bought her cross pendant from her craftsman friend up the road or indeed, perhaps she was the craftsperson herself.
Bone bird-headed pin (Winetavern Street/Christchurch Place)
My copy of the pin was made by Peter Merrett, who also made my amber cross.
This pin is based on a bone pin (E122:61) found on either Winetavern Street (Wallace, 2016. p.303) or Christchurch Place (National Museum of Ireland, 1973)- different publications give different find sites. It has a carved terminal in the shape of a bird and was dated quite vaguely to the 10-11th century.
A multitude of bone pins were found in Viking Age Dublin. Like the York examples, they range from plain all the way to ornate- some of the more decorative examples include cruciform tops, ram’s horn and animal-headed. We can’t tell for certain if they were used for fastening clothing, as hair pins or indeed for some other purpose.
Do you think it looks more like a swan or a goose, a duck, a pelican? I can’t decide but I like it a lot.
Copper alloy toiletry set(Fishamble Street)
Toiletry sets like this one (E190:0000) are a relatively common find across the Viking world- other examples can be found from York, Hedeby, Birka, Gotland and many other sites. Mine is one of two found on Fishamble Street and is dated to the 10th century. It is made of copper alloy and consists of a little tube, hanging from a ring by a chain, along with several other tools- a pair of tweezers, a nail/tooth pick and one other unknown item which was broken.
The tube would have been used as a needlecase, either with a roll of fibre shoved inside with the needles or indeed with something blocking each end to make a sealed tube. Other examples from the Viking world indicate that sealed needle cases were common, though neither needle case found at Wood Quay had a stopper or a lid. I put a little linen cloth inside mine, more for appearances than anything else. The needles that your Hiberno Scandinavian lady would carry with her could be made from iron, copper alloy or bone- needles are a common find at Viking Age sites.
Textiles
Fragment E172:10538, described by the museum as an example of broken lozenge twill wool. No wool examples of simple twills were on display.
I didn’t plan the textiles for this outfit specifically for a Dublin impression- so they aren’t perfect. I opted for a mustard yellow wool dress and a diamond twill shawl in a khaki green-mustard. Both colours can be achieved on wool using natural dyes used in period, namely dyer’s greenweed and weld.
In the absence of any Viking Age tunic finds from Ireland, the pattern for my dress was based on the 11th century Skjoldehamn find from Andøya, Norway. It has four gores from the waist, two at the sides, one at the front and one at the back. I feel like this gives a more swooshy skirted look that I really like and that fits with what few contemporary images of women from Ireland and Britain we have. My shawl is rectangular with tassels at each end.
The dress is made from a simple 2/2 twill, which is found commonly at many Viking Age sites. Under normal circumstances, I would also wear a tabby woven linen underdress- but I couldn’t fit one in my luggage! Next time, I’ll take the longship instead of flying Ryanair.
Pennanular brooch
For some stupid reason, I didn’t take any photos of the brooches in the museum! They’re in the background of a few other glamour shots of the toiletry sets, mocking me, but not sharp enough to show. Sorry!
Preferably, I would have a suitable little disc brooch to close my neckline for a Dublin impression. 30 such brooches have been found in 10-11th century contexts there and Wallace (2016, p.368) describes how they were likely imports from England or Germany, where they were very fashionable at the time. It’s also striking to note how similar many examples are to York and London finds. That being said, I didn’t want to use York brooches for a Dublin outfit! I’m searching for a good replica as we speak.
One example of a pennanular brooch from Fishamble Street is E190:6455. It’s made of copper alloy and dates to the 10th century. Wallace (p.280) relates this to another brooch from Ballinderry crannog among others, labeling the penannular style as an indigenously Irish one. He explains that this could indicate that Hiberno-Scandinavian townspeople had a taste for Irish jewellery or simply that an Irish person came into the town wearing their own native fashion.
Bonus photo dump: street signs and Wood Quay pavement plaques
I’m just a massive nerd and I love seeing the street names I recognise from the archaeological reports.
There are a series of bronze plaques in the pavements round Wood Quay, made by sculptor Rachel Joynt. An attempt to remind those walking the street of the history beneath their feet, they feature a great selection of the finds from the area- including a familiar bird pin!
I really wish we had some plaques like these in York!
Another cool thing in Wood Quay is the outline of a few Viking homes on Winetavern Street. I took my photos stood in the porch of one such house, in the shadow of the cathedral and flanked by the imposing Dublin City Council offices. It was really cold that day, but it was powerful to stand in a little open space and to envision what came before and the quiet street that sits here now.
Aerial view from Google maps, then POV from street level. Comically far-away Leah for scale.
This was a spur of the moment thing and not as polished as I would normally like. I’m planning on finishing this set of clothing and have another one in the works- but I still had so much fun.
References
National Museum of Ireland (1973) Viking And Medieval Dublin. Catalogue of Exhibition . Dublin: An Roinn Oideachais. p51.
Wallace, P. F. (2016) Viking Dublin The Wood Quay Excavations. Sallins: Irish Academic Press. p1-558.
Wincott Heckett, E. (2003) Viking Age Headcoverings from Dublin. Dublin: Royal Irish Academy.
Location: Jorvík (York), England Date: Mid to late 10th Century Culture: Anglo Scandinavian Estimated Social Class: Middle, wealthy urban
This will hopefully be the first of several speculative York impressions, built to showcase various artefacts and show how they potentially could have been worn/used in their day. It is not based on a grave nor is it to be taken as absolutely representative of the fashion of the place and time. My aim is to show a sensible and plausible outfit based on contemporary artefacts unearthed across York and give context to those remains and fragments.
Excuse my modern garden backgrounds, my 10th century longhouse was in the wash.
Starting from top to bottom:
Headscarf
My veil is a plain weave, pale blue wool scarf. It is not naturally dyed, but in shade it closely mimicks woad. Women are almost exclusively portrayed veiled in Early Medieval English art, yet few examples of such veils are represented in the archaeological record. Fine woollen scarves with tassels have been found in Dublin, dating to the early 10th to mid 11th centuries (Wincott Heckett, 2003, pp.9-43). My veil is closer in size to the larger examples found at VA Dublin, such as the silk scarf DHC17 from Fishamble Street (dated to the early 11th century) but matches most closely with contemporary English manuscript depictions in size.
I wear this scarf several different ways even within the same day, tossing the ends over my shoulders as and when it’s required. The weather was balmy when I took these photos, so pins and a fillet weren’t needed. On windier days or if I’m feeling a little more haughty and austere, I’ll pin my veil onto a cap worn underneath and sometimes a fillet. Period variation in wimple/veil style is supported by English manuscript depictions, which show several different styles were worn. Presumably this was down to preference, though of course it could be an indicator of class or piety.
I could talk all day long about headcoverings, suffice to say that I will cover them in greater detail in a future post if people wish.
Necklace of amber and jet
The whole necklace, threaded on a fine leather thonging. One of the triangular amber pendants.
My necklace is made up of amber and jet, based on pendants and beads found at 16-22 Coppergate and other nearby sites. Extensive evidence for amber working in York was found at Clifford Street and 16-22 Coppergate, with fragments also being found at 22 Piccadilly and elsewhere on the Coppergate site (Mainman and Rogers, 2000). The wedge-shaped pendants I used are a little more rounded than the originals, but they can be replaced as and when I find a gemologist who will make me a more accurate replica. 😁 Many of the amber beads and pendants found at 16-22 Coppergate were dated to period 4B (c.930/5-c.975 AD.)
Found in (Mainman and Rogers, 2000, p.2507)Found in (Mainman and Rogers, 2000, p.2589.)
The evidence for jet working at 16-22 Coppergate is definite, whether or not that evidence belongs to the Anglo-Scandinavian period is a subject of debate. Some items were found in Anglo-Scandinavian levels, but it has been argued that they were Roman items that ended up deposited in later levels through the passage of time. It does however remain possible that some of these jet items were indeed stratified correctly and I am working with that assumption.
The beads I used for my necklace are Whitby jet, dating to the late Victorian or early Edwardian period. They’d been reassembled into a new modern necklace, so I liberated them and used them for this project. Like their amber brethren, they are not perfect- they’re a little too spherical and neat. The jet finds from York consist of finger rings, bracelets, gaming pieces, pendants and manufacturing evidence (Mainman and Rogers, 2000). There was also an item identified as a bead (dated to the 5A period, approx 975 AD) but unfortunately it was stolen. I have included my beads in this impression based on the semi-worked fragments, the lost bead and the similar beads found in glass, amber and other materials.
Dress
The flower I am playing with is from my immortal woad plant, which is busy taking over my poor mum’s raised bed. I am pretending to be sorry about that.
My dress is made of a 2/2 chevron (herringbone) twill wool. I’ve dyed lots of wool blue using woad, but not this wool- it is chemically-dyed mimicking shades of a natural woad vat. It is handsewn by me with wool and linen thread. Textile fragments of broken chevron twill dyed with indigotin (the blue colour compound found in woad) were found at Coppergate, item number 1302 (Walton, 1989). The material was dated to period 4B, indicating a date of c.930/5-c.975 AD. It is described it thus:
“Fragments, largest 140 x 100mm, of mid brown 2/2 chevron twill, 8/Z/0.9 x 5-6/S/1.2 (Fig.134a). Yarn soft and unevenly spun. Fleece type, Z medium, S hairy. Dyed with indigotin. Hard concretions containing cess-like material adhere to parts of the textile.” (Walton, 1989)
In all the surviving textiles from Anglo-Scandinavian Jorvík, woad is represented but it is not the most common dyestuff. Madder- and bedstraw-dyed fragments are the most numerous by leaps and bounds, which indicates a distinctly English taste in Anglo Scandinavian York (I’ll discuss this at more length in a future article.) Woad however certainly did feature in the clothing of Jorvík city dwellers and I just so happened to have some suitable fabric leftover from a dress made for a dear friend many moons ago. Being a Yorkshire lass through and through, regardless of the century, I was using it.
No complete or near-complete garments have survived from Jorvík apart from the famous sock and several head-coverings. I therefore kept the pattern of my dress and undertunic as generic as possible. Women in contemporary English art are always shown wearing ankle length, long-sleeved garments, usually with some indication of skirted construction. It is believed that this might have been the case in Scandinavia too, with women in contemporary art there usually being shown to wear garments that are at least longer than men’s (Ewing, 2007).
An Anglo-Scandinavian cross fragment from All Saints Church in Weston (North Yorkshire), dated to the 9th century. It is believed to show a warrior with a female captive and be a reworking of an original Anglian cross. Source.
Towards the end of the Viking Age in England, the sleeves on women’s overgarments appear to have grown wider, with tight-sleeeved garments being seen peeking from underneath them. I kept the sleeves on my dress relatively close to the arm so it would be more suitable for earlier impressions, with the opportunity to dress it up later with the simple addition of a mantle or baggier-sleeved overdress.
It is also prudent to note that almost all of the women portrayed in contemporary English art were very high in social status or were religious figures. They represent an ideal of the most aristocratic and modest women, not the daughters and wives of merchants (even wealthy ones) who might have walked through Coppergate. So, my York lady may well have worn her dresses with baggier sleeves on special occasions but likely not to go to the market.
Details from various 10-11th century sources: Top left- Folio 10 of the Old English Illustrated Hexateuch, 11thC English. Top middle- Luxoria from Prudentius’ Psychomachia, late 10thC English. Top right- Detail of supplicants from the Benedictional of St Aethelwold, late 10thC English. Bottom left: Detail of Queen Emma from the New Minster Liber Vitae, 1031 AD English. Bottom middle left- Detail from the Bayeux Tapestry, late 11thC English (suspected.) Bottom middle right- Patentia also from Prudentius’ Psychomachia. Bottom right: Mary also from the New Minster Liber Vitae. Source.
Surviving remains of skirted tunics such as the Skjoldehamn, Haithabu and later Herjolfsnes finds show examples of how these women’s garments in the Viking Age could have been constructed. Due to cloth constraints and to better fit my body, I opted for bottle-shaped side gores starting at my underarm. This construction provided the correct period silhouette while remaining comfortable.
My undertunic (or serk) was made in a similar pattern, only in undyed linen with a plain round neckline and triangular gores.
Over my dress, I wear a belt of dyed bone buckle. This is an unusual item, currently kept in the Yorkshire Museum. The museum lists it only as Anglo-Scandinavian and dating to between 866 and 1066. It is generally believed that Early Medieval women did not wear leather belts, either opting for textile belts that have rotted away since or foregoing belts altogether.
However, a 10th century grave of a woman in Cumwhitton (Cumbria) has challenged this assumption. One of the female graves contained a belt buckle and strap end, both made of copper alloy (Paterson, Parsons, Newman, Johnson & Howard Davis, 2014). I am fond of the York dyed buckle and since it was not found in a grave context, I feel comfortable including a leather belt as part of a wealthy female impression.
An interesting discussion of belt hardware surviving in female graves can be found in the bibliography. My replica of the belt and buckle was made by Sándor Tar on Facebook.
Leather turnshoes
Type 4a3 leather turnshoes.
On my feet, I wear leather shoes, based on the Style 4a3. They are of a turnshoe construction and made of vegetable tanned leather. This pair was made by Torvald’s Leather Workshop.
Shoes of Style 4a3 have been found at 16-22 Coppergate from the earliest layers of occupation (mid-late 9th century at the earliest) throughout the whole Anglo-Scandinavian period, but finds of this type are most numerous in the mid 10th century layers (Mould, Carlisle and Cameron, 2003). Shoes of this style were also found at nearby Hungate and fragments indicating this style have been found in Oxford also.
Style 4a3 shoes, image from Mould, Carlisle and Cameron, 2003, p.3306.
I love this style of shoe, I think they’re really cute and so evocative in their style of Viking Age fashion itself. The only problem? The pair I have have the flaps on the wrong side of the foot! A large group of the shoes found in Jorvík had flaps and toggles over the instep- fastening on the inside of the foot, not the outside. Mould, Carlisle and Cameron (2003) even acknowledge that it seems like toggles on the outside of the foot would be more practical, but I found the opposite to be the case when actually putting them on. I’m aiming to replace these shoes in the future with ones closer to the originals, but they are gorgeous nevertheless and being handmade they are very comfortable.
Underneath these shoes, I wore a pair of woollen naalbound socks, loosely based on the Coppergate socks. However, they have graciously served me for several years now in all weathers and are not fit to be seen. I will certainly cover the mighty Coppergate sock in the future though.
Who might have worn this?
The wife or daughter of a wealthy urban merchant perhaps, someone who had the cash spare to afford dyed garments such as my dress and scarf. Worked amber and jet beads too would likely have been status items, with amber being imported from abroad from the Roman period.
It is also possible that a wealthy woman from more rural areas could wear an outfit like this, the wife of a rich farmer perhaps. This is not the kind of clothing one wears during the working day however, so it would be relegated to Sunday best or feasting clothing (I suspect that this would also be the case for an urban woman.)
References
Ewing, T. (2007) Viking Clothing. Stroud: Tempus Publishing. p9-70.
Mainman, A. J. & Rogers, N. S. H. (2000). Craft, Industry and Everyday Life: Finds from Anglo-Scandinavian York. York: Council for British Archaeology. p2451-2671.
Mould, Q., Carlisle, I. & Cameron, E (2003). Craft, Industry and Everyday Life: Leather and Leatherworking in Anglo-Scandinavian and Medieval York. York: Council for British Archaeology. p3306-3310.
Paterson, C., Parsons, A. J, Newman, R. M, Johnson, N & Howard Davis, C. (2014) Shadows in the Sand: Excavation of a Viking-age cemetery at Cumwhitton, Cumbria. Oxford: Oxford Archaeology North.
Walton, P (1989). Textiles, Cordage and Raw Fibre from 16-22 Coppergate . York: Council for British Archaeology. p285-474
Wincott Heckett, E (2003). Viking Age Headcoverings from Dublin. Dublin: Royal Irish Academy. p9-43.
The Eoforwic Project 