Deuce Richardson has made the claim that Haggard was a towering forefather of the sword-and-sorcery genre; in fact he may be its ur-figure, larger in influence perhaps than even the likes of Edgar Rice Burroughs. From Deuce’s linked piece: “When it comes to the literary movers and shakers who influenced sword and sorcery, Haggard towers above all as a colossus, a titan, if not the outright supreme deity thereof.” The laundry list of those directly influenced by Haggard is extraordinary, including Robert E. Howard, Clark Ashton Smith, C.L. Moore, Henry Kutter, Leigh Brackett, Manly Wade Wellman, Poul Anderson, Michael Moorcock, and others.

Haggard wrote many different types of stories, which Deuce groups into the category of “exotic adventure stories,” a label that works as well as any. Among his stories were the Icelandic Saga-inspired Eric Brighteyes, and the Viking historical adventure The Wanderer’s Necklace (1914). While we don’t have much evidence that writers like Fritz Leiber or Michael Moorcock themselves read Icelandic Saga (though both have cited the influence of Norse mythology on their works, and we do know that Robert E. Howard read at least one of the Sagas as early as 1926), Haggard did, and on top of that visited saga-sites in Iceland for first-hand research, lending his Viking stories additional authenticity. Haggard was a wildly popular writer back in the day, and his most popular work, She, has reportedly sold more than 83 million copies. It was hard not to read him in the late 19th and early 20th century. Through Haggard, and other sources, several of the principal writers of sword-and-sorcery received significant second-hand influence of the Northern Thing.

The Wanderer’s Necklace begins in Jutland in the Viking Age, sometime in the late eighth century. It’s a classic romance in the old, pre-corrupted sense of the word, a tale rich with colorful, sweeping storytelling, conflict, and love, and a sprawling journey that takes the reader from Jutland to Byzantium to Egypt. Olaf Red-Sword is an eighth-century Northman who is betrayed by his beautiful bride-to-be Iduna the Fair, resulting in bloody interfamilial conflict. Olaf revolts against the bloodthirsty Pagan gods of the North and flees to Byzantium, where he rises in the favor of the Byzantine Empress Irene, becoming a general in her personal bodyguard. More romance ensues.

Prior to his betrayal Olaf robs the tomb of an ancient warrior-king at Iduna’s bequest, taking from the well-preserved corpse a fabled necklace and heavy bronze sword. The necklace is a prize beyond measure but also is cursed to bring woe to its wearer. It does, again and again, throughout the pages of the book.

As mentioned The Wanderer’s Necklace is nascent sword-and-sorcery. Olaf Red-Sword is both like and unlike the traditional protagonists of sword-and-sorcery. Though he’s a skald with an ear for poetry, he’s also a fierce fighter when roused, and deadly with a blade, leading charges in the thick of the melee. He’s an outsider, uncomfortable in positions of power and reluctant to sit upon a throne, not unlike the likes of Conan. But he also converts to Christianity and adopts a pacifist stance, and suffers a grievous wound that prevents him from effectively wielding a blade. Interesting aside: The edition I own was published by Zebra Books in 1978 and retroactively claimed by the publisher as “sword-and-sorcery.” Undoubtedly this was done to give Zebra another title in a time when sword-and-sorcery was at its height and publishers were starved for new material, settling for republishing old works as new sword-and-sorcery with fun and lurid if slightly misleading covers. This image of a skeletal king leading an undead army and a monstrous snake-god do not appear in the pages of the book, unfortunately.

Sword-and-sorcery is littered with fierce barbarians from the North, able to best their more civilized counterparts in the East and South. These heroes are not Viking analogues, but rather are romanticized and mythologized adaptations of the historical Vikings, imbued with their wandering, warlike ethos. Here is a passage from The Wanderer’s Necklace that ought to stir your blood, Nordic or no:

“As I made my fourth journey I caught the sound of a distant tumult, the shouts of war, the screams of agony, and above them all the well-remembered cry of “Valhalla! Valhalla! Victory or Valhalla!”

”I halted where I was and felt the blood rush into my wasted cheeks. The Northmen, my Northmen, were in the palace! It was at this that Martina had hinted. Yet in so vast a place what chance was there that they would ever find me, and how, being blind, could I find them? Well, at least my voice was left to me, and I would lift it.

”So with all my strength I cried aloud, “Olaf Red-Sword is here! To Olaf, men of the North!”

Haggard does not romanticize Viking culture. Its harsh, eye-for-an-eye code of morality sits ill with Olaf, who revolts against the blood sacrifices demanded by Odin. But in the end the Norsemen’s fierce discipline and commitment allow them to prevail over the decadent and softer though numerically superior Byzantine soldiers. This is not romantic wish-fulfillment but historical reality. The Byzantine Empire employed a guard of Northmen, the Varangian Guard, which they employed as bodyguards as they could not be corrupted, and for the most part remained aloof from court intrigue. The Byzantines also employed the Varangian Guard from time to time as effective shock troops at the tip of the spear in various battles.

Haggard was influential on more than just sword-and-sorcery authors, most notably J.R.R. Tolkien. I myself have written a piece for DMR on the influence of She on The Lord of the Rings. But I was also struck by the possible influence of The Wanderer’s Necklace on Tolkien, in particular a scene in which Olaf, suffering alone in a cell, finds comfort in the presence of something beyond his circumstances, eternal and divine, in the stars above. At least to me this recalls something of Sam, glimpsing a star during a rare break in the clouds while in the darkest stretch of his journey into Mordor:

“I gazed through the bars of the window-place in my cell out at the night above. A young moon was floating in the sky, and near to it hung a star. A little passing cloud with a dented edge drifted over the star and the lower horn of the moon. It went by, and they shone out again upon the background of the blue heavens. Also an owl flitted across the window-place of my cell. It had a mouse in its beak, and the shadow of it and of the writhing mouse for a moment lay upon Irene’s breast, for I turned my head and saw them. It came into my mind that here was an allegory. Irene was the night-hawk, and I was the writhing mouse that fed its appetite. Doubtless it was decreed that the owl must be and the mouse must be, but beyond them both, hidden in those blue heavens, stood that Justice which we call God.”

I’m not sure if George R.R. Martin read any Haggard, but the chapter “The Hall of the Pit” and its Hall of Justice recalls Martin’s Moon Door, where political opponents and others are executed via fall from a great height.

Sword-and-sorcery has absorbed blows in many corners for its lack of strong female characters, but if we’re going to retroactively claim The Wanderer’s Necklace as S&S, or perhaps more accurately proto-S&S, this book offers a significant claim to the contrary. The Wanderer’s Necklace is loaded with a cast of three-dimensional female characters, some headstrong and impatient and vengeful, others resourceful and brave and self-sacrificing. I’m not entirely certain where the phrase “hell hath no fury like a woman scorned” is derived, and it’s a truth likely as old as time, but it may as well have been hatched in the pages of The Wanderer’s Necklace. Women are the prime movers in this book, driving its action and conflict.

If I have any criticisms of The Wanderer’s Necklace it’s that the story drags a bit in the middle shortly after Olaf arrives in Byzantium, and the (very) end seems rather abrupt and rushed. It felt a little as though Haggard had more to tell, but page count and/or the expediency of a publishing contract forced the conclusion. I would not put this book quite at the level of Eric Brighteyes, my favorite work of Haggard’s, but in my opinion it’s as good as more the more well-known and popular She.

In short, The Wanderer’s Necklace is absolutely worth the read. It’s available in its entirety for free over at Project Gutenberg, and second-hand hard copies seem readily available. Victory or Valhalla!

Brian Murphy is the author of Flame and Crimson: A History of Sword-and-Sorcery (Pulp Hero Press). Learn more about his work on his website, The Silver Key.