Norse Pagan Funerals, Burials, and Final Rites: Historical Resources and Modern Interpretations

Both the Ásatrú revival and the Troth are relatively recent phenomena, and many of the first generation of Heathens are still alive. However, as Heathenry matures, we have had to begin working out how to deal with loss, honor our dead, and dispose of their remains.

We need to understand how our ancestors dealt with death, and which of their customs we can, or should, bring forward into the present day.

“Cattle die, kinsmen die. . . .” Experience and the Hávamál alike tell us that each life must have an ending. It is the act of a responsible person to recognize that one day we will leave the world of the living. The old tales provide examples of heroes who faced death without fear and left instructions when they recognized that their time had come. In Vǫlsunga saga, Sigmund lies wounded and dying on the battlefield but refuses first aid, realizing that if Odin has broken his sword it is time for him to go and feast with his fathers. He uses the time it takes him to die to leave instructions with his wife. However, many of us will not have that much warning.

In the old days, everyone in a community was buried in much the same way. Today, as members of a culture in which many options are available, we cannot assume that our heirs will understand what we want done. As a courtesy to those who will have to clean up after us, we ought to make preparations while we are alive, well, and thinking clearly.

Preparing for one’s own funeral

Heathens should start to prepare for their funerals well in advance. An important step is to begin writing instructions for their families and friends, detailing the manner in which they wish their heirs to deal with their memories, their bodies and the things they leave behind.

It is just as important, if not more so, for us to talk to our families well in advance about our burial preferences—especially if our next of kin are not Heathens themselves. This is a sensitive subject for many families, especially if they are Christian or otherwise hold strong beliefs about the afterlife. Nonetheless, it is vitally necessary: a devout Christian family that does not know of its member’s Heathenry is likely to get a nasty shock (on top of all their grief) on finding out that the deceased didn’t want a Christian funeral.

Unfortunately, the legal precedent is that “funerals are for the living”—meaning that those who are left behind can generally commemorate their dead in whatever ways that they find meaningful; they are not legally obligated to do what the deceased would have wanted. There have already been instances of staunch Heathens given Christian funerals by their next of kin, and there is little that can be done in such cases. This is all the more reason to talk with kinfolk well ahead of time and, if necessary, accustom them to the idea of a Heathen funeral.

The following documents should be completed well before you plan on actually dying, and kept in a safe place that your next of kin can find easily. If you are in a kindred, holding a meeting to discuss options and fill out the appropriate forms can make the process easier. If not, do it with a sympathetic friend or member of your family.

A Medical Power of Attorney (or Durable Power of Attorney for Health Care)

This document allows you to state what you do and don’t want done if you are terminally injured or ill, and appoint someone to enforce your wishes if you are unable to do so yourself. You can, for instance, specify that no heroic measures should be taken to keep you alive if you are brain-dead, and authorize the donation of any useful organs. A legal form for this purpose can be downloaded from sites such as http://www.lawdepot.com/ . Fill out the form, get the required signatures, and deposit copies with your representative, doctor, and local hospital.

A Legal Will

Even if you have little to leave, your heirs will be grateful if you make a legal will. Forms for doing this are also available online, and in several countries, including the United States, you do not need a lawyer—al419

though a lawyer can be very useful in making sure that you haven’t made any mistakes that could invalidate the will. However, legal wills are primarily useful for dealing with valuable property such as land, bank accounts, etc. Personal possessions whose worth is more spiritual than monetary (which includes most of our Heathen ritual gear) may best be dealt with by appointing a separate executor to deal with them and describing disposition in a separate document (a “spiritual testament” as described below).

A parent with minor children who would prefer to have them raised by fellow Heathens should specifically name a trusted Heathen friend as their legal guardian in his or her will. Of course, the proposed guardian must have agreed in advance, and needs to be financially, physically, and emotionally prepared to take on the responsibility. Note that if the will is challenged and the court finds a designated guardian to be unfit, it can designate someone else—which is another reason to talk this over carefully with family members well in advance, in hopes of heading off a potentially ugly custody battle.

Financial Documents

It goes without saying that, as a basic matter of personal responsibility, true folk should do their best to make sure that their loved ones will be provided for. It’s important to keep them informed of any savings, pensions, life insurance policies, retirement accounts, or other survivors’ benefits that you might have (and, of course, to get such benefits set up well in advance, if possible). You may also need to set up trust funds for your minor children. All of the documentation of these benefits should be kept together in one place where it can be easily found. Like Egil Skallagrímsson’s silver hoard, a life insurance policy does your family no good at all if they don’t know where to find it.

A Spiritual Testament

Here is where you list items such as your collection of amber necklaces, your ritual Hammer, runes, drinking horns, books, and other regalia. Indicate which things you would like to have burned or buried with you, who you would like to have your remaining items, or who should take responsibility for finding them good homes. Don’t assume your executors will automatically know what you would want done.420

Directions for Disposal of the Body

Depending on where you live, different legal codes may determine what can be done with your lich when you are finished with it. For suggested Heathen ways of burial, see below. Find out what is allowed, and if at all possible, make arrangements with a mortuary. You may save your heirs a great deal of money if you can pay for your funeral ahead of time. If you do this, make sure you inform your executors and heirs.

Directions for a Memorial Service

Write up an additional document in which you state who you want to conduct the memorial and graveside services and what you would like them to include. This can be as simple as stating that you want the ritual given in the Troth’s Book of Blóts to be used, or as elaborate as a list of songs and readings, the menu for the funeral feast, and a list of people to invite (or not) and where to find their addresses.

Midwifing the Souls

At death, the various souls and soul-parts disperse to their proper destinations, except in the rare case where a soul-part remains attached to the corpse and must be dealt with by a specialist. Both body and souls should be dealt with properly to ensure a smooth transition for all concerned.

From the practical point of view, those who have the privilege of sitting with the dying may (depending on the physical and psychological state of the individual) discuss the possibilities (“Will part of you stick around as a dís and watch over us? What would you like for offerings?” “Do you hope to hang out in Valhall or Folkvang?”). There is some evidence that those in a coma can still hear, so even if the person appears to be unconscious, you can still speak to them. Talk about the gods and goddesses, especially the person’s fulltrúi, if any. The runes that seem to be most useful in aiding the transition are the same as those used in birth-magic—Laguz ᛚ emerging from Perthro ᛈ, to release the spirit; Jera ᛃ, to bring the life cycle to a positive conclusion; and Elhaz ᛉ, for protection.421

When death seems close, describe the journey from their home in Midgard to the Midgard that lies within, and up the worldtree to Asgard. As discussed further under “The Funeral Ale,” some traditional death-songs may have had this function of describing to the dying person what journey their soul is taking. Visualize the gods and friends who have gone before coming to make the new spirit welcome—or the landwights or ancestors welcoming the spirit into its mound or other earthly resting place. Hákonarmál, Eyvindr Skáldaspillir’s poem describing the reception of King Hákon the Good into Valhall (quoted in Hákonar saga góða 32), provides an example of the first situation:

Einherja grið þú skalt allra hafa,

þigg þú at Ásum ǫl;

jarla bági, þú átt inni hér

átta broeðr, kvað Bragi.

“You shall have peace with all the Einherjar.

Accept ale from the Æsir;

Jarls’ ruler, you have in here

Eight brothers,” said Bragi

Eyrbyggja saga 11 (ÍF 4, p. 19) gives us an example of the second possibility, when a shepherd has a vision. Unbeknownst to the shepherd, Thorstein Cod-Biter has just drowned:

Þat var eitt kveld um haustit, at sauðamaður Þorsteins fór at fé fyrir norðan Helgafell; hann sá, at fjallit lauksk upp norðan; hann sá inn í fjallit elda stóra ok heyrði þangat mikinn glaum ok hornaskvǫl; ok er hann hlýddi, ef hann næmi nǫkkur orðaskil, heyrði hann, at þar var heilsat Þorsteini þorskabít og fǫrunautum hans og mælt, at hann skal sitja í ǫndvegi gegnt feðr sínum.

It was one evening in autumn when Thorstein’s shepherd went to the sheep to the north of Helgafell. He saw that the mountain was opening up from the north. He saw great fires inside the mountain and heard celebration and good cheer coming from there. When he listened to see if he could make out any words, he heard that Thorstein Cod-Biter and his men were being welcomed there, and that Thorstein was being told to sit in the high seat, facing his father.

The Troth has no position on when and whether a person, or their guardians, should choose to terminate efforts to sustain life, or whether euthanasia should be accepted in states where it is legal. This decision should be left up to the individual, or if that is not possible, the family or designated guardian. Even after the decision has been made, the health care system may not always enforce it. Troth member John Mainer had to care for his father in his final illness, and found that the health care system would not respect his father’s express wishes unless he forced them to (“My Father’s Death,” p. 20):

Well yes, the orders are posted, and yes, everyone involved is aware of them, but you see, if my father is confused at all, or not responsive, the care aides, nurses, ambulance personnel, and doctors are uncomfortable with following the written orders and will tend to fall back on their standard life saving protocols. I asked if she meant they would only do what everyone in the room agrees is their legal duty if I am standing over them in the fucking room at the time, to which the Social Worker replied bluntly, “Pretty much, yes”. . . .

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, no matter what you do, no matter what you say, no matter what is agreed to in writing and written as a standing order, every single medical professional is free to ignore your wishes the second you are unable to verbally respond unless someone is standing in the room with a signed order that allows you to speak for them. Yes indeed, your palliative care team that has agreed to your plan for your death will save you from every single easy death that is offered, until you die in the most slow and horrible fashion possible, simply so they don’t have to do something they are uncomfortable with. It is not about your death, it is about their comfort. Understand this, know this, prepare for this, and counter this.

We hope that most end-of-life experiences are not nearly as harrowing as John’s was, but you may have to prepare yourself to struggle to have your wishes or your kin’s wishes accepted.

When the final breath has been expelled, give thanks to Odin for the gift of ǫnd, and ask him to speed all the soul-parts to their destinations. Pour out an offering to him, to the individual’s patron (if any), and to Hel, to welcome those parts that belong to her.

Those who have been present at death-beds will have noticed that the process is a gradual one. For some time after breathing has stopped and brain-activity ceased, the dead appear to be sleeping. At this time the spirit may still hover nearby and can be addressed. But little by little, the life energy withdraws from the lich, until it is clear that the person is no longer there. Some believe that a portion of the soul remains in the vicinity for the first three days, and that the body should not be disposed of until that time is past. Prayers to the gods for a peaceful progress are especially appropriate at this time.

A number of ways of dealing with the newly dead appear in lore and folklore. In Norway, a window or door was supposed to be opened at the moment of death. If the death-struggle was especially long, someone might climb onto the roof to call the dying person out through the chimney or smoke hole (Christiansen, “The Dead and the Living,” pp. 17-19). Similar customs were once observed in Denmark (Feilberg, “The Corpse Door,” p. 370) and in England, where every door, window, and lock in the house would be opened as death drew near (Baker, Folklore and Customs of Rural England, p. 148).

It was sometimes thought dangerous to bring the body out through the usual entrances to the house, as the dead might remember the way back in (especially if they were the sort of folk who were likely to walk again, such as berserks, shape-shifters, magic-workers, and the generally obnoxious). Egil Skallagrímsson, whose father was a berserk, broke a in the wall of the house through which Skalla-Grímr’s corpse could be carried out (Egils saga 58), and Arnkel did the same for his dead father Thorolf, a very overbearing man who became a draugr (Eyrbyggja saga 33). Houses in medieval and early modern Denmark were sometimes built with a keyhole-shaped “corpse-door”, which was usually bricked up, and opened only for the sake of bringing the dead out. In medieval Denmark and parts of Germany, the bodies of suicides, whose ghosts were thought to be especially dangerous to the living, were removed from the house through a passage dug under the threshhold of the doorway. In Denmark until the 19th century, it was customary to remove or overturn every object in the house that the corpse or coffin had touched, presumably so that the dead one would find no familiar objects that could draw him or her to return (Feilberg, “The Corpse Door,” pp. 363-373). Extending the imagery of doors back into Heathen times, Anders Andrén has suggested that many of the Gotland picture stones, which memorialize dead men, are symbolic doors between this world and the next. An 11th-century Norwegian church door has a similar “keyhole” shape, and we have lore references to women being lifted over doorframes in order to see into worlds beyond (“Doors to Other Worlds,” pp. 36-37).

Burchard of Worms condemned a custom carried out by “foolish women:” when a dead body was lifted to be carried out of the house, they poured a jar of water on the floor underneath, and avoided carrying the corpse any higher than the bearers’ knees. This was supposedly done “as a kind of means of healing” (Corrector 96; transl. McNeill and Gamer, Medieval Handbooks of Penance, p. 334). In Norway, it was common to burn the likhalm, “corpse-straw”—either the straw from the deathbed, the straw on which the corpse had been laid out, or the straw on which the coffin had rested. This was good hygiene, and it may have had a psychological function of making it clear to the living that the deceased was no longer present, but it may also have been another way of ensuring that the dead could not return. The rising smoke from the burning straw was an omen; it would blow in the direction where the next death would happen. The smoke was also a signal for neighbors to gather for the wake. Similar customs are found all over Europe (Christiansen, “The Dead and the Living,” pp. 38-44)

The Wake

Sigrdrífumál 33 counsels that any corpse should be washed and combed before being laid in earth. Until the early twentieth century, it was the custom everywhere in Europe for the women of a family to wash the corpse and dress it. This was also common practice in the US until the 1930s.

This was the last loving service that could be offered to the deceased, and since it was widely believed that the soul of the deceased would linger near the body for a short while, treating the corpse well would please the soul. Gísla saga 14 mentions the custom of tying “Hel-shoes” (helskór) tightly onto the corpse’s feet, so that the deceased may walk to the next world in comfort.

There is a long-standing custom of keeping watch over the body overnight. In older days, this called for some bravery, since the corpse might sit up and perhaps even speak, as Thorstein Eiríksson does in Eiriks saga ins rauða 26. In one Icelandic folktale, a strong man at a wake has to physically force the corpse to lie still, while in another, the maiden who is sewing the corpse’s shroud has to break her needle and stick the pieces into the soles of the corpse’s feet (Jón Árnason, Íslenzkar Þjóðsögur og Æfintýri, vol. 1, pp. 226-227).

In Denmark, it was also customary to stick needles into the soles of a corpse’s feet, and/or to tie its toes together, to keep it from walking after death. An opened pair of scissors might be placed on the corpse’s chest—probably because the opened scissors had the shape of the Christian cross, but also because of the widespread belief in the protective powers of cold iron (Feilberg, “The Corpse Door,” pp. 365-368). In England, a dish of salt was often placed on the body, presumably as a protective rite (Baker, Folklore and Customs of Rural England, p. 149).

Wakes could evidently be quite rowdy affairs, which annoyed medieval Christian moralists to no end. The 10th-century English priest Ælfric of Eynesham forbade such enjoyments to Christian clergy: “You shall not rejoice for the departed man, nor visit the body unless someone invites you there; when you are invited there, forbid the Heathen songs of unlearned men, and their loud cackling; nor may you eat nor drink where the corpse lies, lest you imitate the Heathenry that they practice there” (Thorpe, Ancient Laws, vol. 2, p. 356).

Ælfric also complained that “Some men also drink to the dead man’s corpse all night long, most unrighteously, and irritate God with their idle talk, though beer-drinking is not suitable near a corpse” (Life of St. Swithin, in Skeat, Ælfric’s Lives of Saints, pp. 313-316).

The 10th-century German cleric Burchard of Worms demanded to know about funerals: “Hast thou observed funeral wakes, that is, been present at the watch over the corpses of the dead when the bodies of Christians are guarded by a ritual of the pagans; and hast thou sung diabolical songs there and performed dances which the pagans have invented by the teaching of the devil; and hast thou drunk there and relaxed thy countenance with laughter, and, setting aside all compassion and emotion of charity, hast thou appeared as if rejoicing over a brother’s death?” (Corrector 91; McNeill and Gamer, Medieval Handbooks of Penance, p. 333) Ninth-century Frankish funerals were even rowdier, if the grumblings of Hincmar of Rheims are any indication; he forbade a priest at a wake “to get drunk or to pray in honour of the saints or of the soul itself or drink or cause others to drink or swill to another’s prayers, nor contribute clapping, vulgar laughing or inane stories, or presume to sing or allow people to perform tawdry games with bears and dancers in front of him, nor agree to carry before him the masks of demons, talamascae in the vernacular” (quoted in Dowden, European Paganism, p. 265).

Wakes over the dead continued long after Christianization. Northern English wakes in the 1600s could be rather raucous affairs (Aubrey, Remaines of Gentilisme and Judaisme, p. 30):

At the funeralls in Yorkshire, to this day, they continue the custome of watching & sitting-up all night till the body is interred. In the interim some kneel downe and pray (by the corps), some play at cards, some drink & take Tobacco; they have also Mimicall playes and sports, e.g. they choose a simple young fellow to be a Judge, then the Suppliants (having first blacked their hands by rubbing it under the bottome of the Pott), beseech his [Lordship] and smutt all his face. They play likewise at Hott-cockles.

Norwegian wakes might begin with hymn-singing, but usually went on to fiddling, dancing, games, and eating and drinking (Christiansen, “The Dead and the Living,” pp. 28-31). In some parts of Norway, a meal would be served in the room with the coffin; “as reported by an eyewitness—the old women used to say in a plaintive voice: ‘now you have had your last meal with us’” (Christiansen, p. 34). The dead person would also be given the velfarskål or “farewell bowl.”

In Vrådal, “A bowl of ale was placed on the coffin, between two lit candles, and the contents were poured into smaller cups and handed to those present, to relatives first. (in) Seljord, it is added that the one who led the horse on leaving touched his hat, saying in the name of the deceased, ‘Farvel og takk for meg’ (Farewell and thank you).” In Setesdal and Telemark, someone present (usually a relative) would give a longer speech in the name of the deceased, thanking everyone present (Christiansen, pp. 34-36). Although Christiansen doubts whether this custom has Heathen origins, it logically fits with our view of the multi-part soul, in which some parts, such as the kynfylgja, are able to pass to the living kin. This custom could be rooted in an old belief that a dead person’s spirit could pass to a relative, share in the funeral feast, and speak to friends and kin one last time.

Wakes may have been times for drinking and merriment, but some of the songs sung at a wake had a more serious purpose. The eighth-century Frankish Indiculus superstitionum et paganiarum forbids the singing of certain songs called dadsisas over a corpse (ed. Boretius, Capitularia Regum Francorum, p. 223). The meaning of this word is uncertain, but dad is cognate with English “dead,” and sisa may be cognate with Old English sidsa, “magical influence.” The dadsisas may have been laments (Dowden, European Paganism, p. 153).

Alternately, they may have been addressed to the dead soul itself, either to help the soul on its way (and keep it from returning) or to gain knowledge from the dead (De La Saussaye, The Religion of the Teutons, pp. 289-303).

Wake songs recorded in the early modern period definitely include “travel instructions” for the dead man’s soul’s journey. The best-known English wake song is the “Lyke-Wake Dirge,” recorded in Yorkshire in 1686 but probably far older (Gardner, The New Oxford Book of English Verse, #361, p. 368). Directly addressed to the dead one, the dirge tells the soul of the hazards it will face. For the moment, the soul is still present at the wake, enjoying the comforts of home:

This ae nighte, this ae nighte,

Every nighte and alle,

Fire and fleet and candle-lighte,

And Christe receive thy saule.

But the soul will soon have to set out on its journey, crossing a thorny moor (the “Whinny-Muir”) and the narrow “Brig o’Dread.” Although the song is Christian, as the refrain “and Christe receive thy saule” indicates, it retains some much older imagery, especially the image of a bridge leading to the afterlife.

There are similar Scandinavian ballads about the soul’s journey through the afterlife, notably the medieval Norwegian “Draumkvæde.” Like the “Lyke-Wake Dirge,” “Draumkvæde” is predominantly Christian, but contains some images that may be older. The soul must cross a thorny moor and a perilous bridge, which here is called Gjallarbru, “Resounding Bridge,” the name given in the Prose Edda for the bridge to Hel. “Draumkvæde” also describes an encounter with “Grutte Greybeard” and his host of the dead riding out of the north—a probable remembrance of Odin (Liestøl, “Draumkvæde,” pp. 64-71). It is at least a reasonable conjecture that some of the songs sung at a Heathen wake would have been addressed to the departing soul, telling it what it would encounter on the journey to its final destination.

There is no clear preference universally throughout time and location for burial or cremation.

Both internment and cremation were practiced by our forebears at different places and times. Tacitus (Germania 27) reported that the German tribes cremated their dead, burning the bodies of high-ranking men using special woods. The Saxons may have practiced cremation primarily; at any rate Charlemagne’s Paderborn Capitulary, which lays down laws for the conquered Saxons, mandated capital punishment for anyone who “causes the body of a dead man to be consumed by flame according to the rite of the pagans” (quoted in Dowden, European Paganism, p. 268). Holly may have been one of the woods used for cremation: the Old English poem Maxims I 78-80 mentions that Deop deada wæg dyrne bi lengest; holen sceal inæled, yrfe gedæled deades monnes: “The deep cup of death is secret longest; holly shall be kindled, a dead man’s inheritance dealt out” (Krapp and Dobbie, The Exeter Book, p. 159).

The pre-Christian English buried cremated remains in urns, or occasionally in metal bowls wrapped in fabric. Cemeteries often included both graves of unburned bodies and urnfields for cremation burials; the largest English cemetery, Spong Hill in Norfolk, included over 2500 cremation burials and unburned burials. It was common in England and Scandinavia to dig a ring-shaped ditch around a cremation grave and use the excavated dirt to build a small mound over the grave. At the Tranmere House cemetery—unearthed during construction of the Sutton Hoo Visitors Centre—there is some evidence that the pyre was sometimes built directly on the gravesite. This is the norm in continental Europe; the Saxons commonly raised low mounds directly over the sites of pyres, sometimes collecting the bones into an urn and sometimes not (Fern, Before Sutton Hoo, pp. 195-201).

Such evidence is lacking at other English graveyards, and it is possible that people were cremated elsewhere and their ashes brought to the urnfields for burial. Grave goods and sacrificed animals might be burned with the corpse and/or added later. The urns were decorated with patterns of lines and dots, and sometimes stamped chevrons, swastikas, wheels, triangles, animal figures, or rune letters. At Spong Hill, some people were cremated with animals, usually horses, sheep, or dogs; a burial might consist of a decorated pot with mostly human cremains, paired with an undecorated pot with mostly animal remains (Higham, “The Anglo-Saxon Cemetery at Spong Hill,” pp. 112-113) One pot from Caistor-by-Norwich shows a wolf or dog with a long tail, facing and apparently barking at a ship sailing away from it. This has been compared with Fenrir and the ship of the dead, Naglfar, from Snorri’s Edda (Green, “The Wolf and Boat Drawing,” p. 118), although whether Snorri’s telling of the myth of Ragnarok would have been recognizable in East Anglia over 500 years earlier is an open question. Another urn, from Spong Hill, bears a lid with a sculpted figure of a seated man, although whether this represents the cremated man, an ancestor, or a deity is unknown (Higham, fig. 2a.5, p. 117)

Burials of unburned bodies begin to appear in the 1st century BCE, but only in limited areas such as Denmark and south Sweden. The archaeological record shows that burial was more common; some tribes, such as the Burgundians, buried their dead exclusively. By the end of the 1st century CE, the custom of burial was spreading, and we see the first graves with rich grave-goods (Todd, The Early Germans, pp. 80-83). Beginning in the late Roman period, the Franks and Alamanni buried their dead in neat rows (called Reihengräber, “row graves,” by German archaeologists), sometimes in a coffin, sometimes in bare earth, and for the elites, in underground chambers lined with wooden planks and fitted with rich grave-goods (James, The Franks, pp. 113-117). The Goths may have once buried their dead in mounds, since they had at least two words for “grave” that implied a mound: aurahjom (“gravel heap”) and hlaiw (from Proto-Germanic *hlaiwa-, “burial mound,” which also gave rise to OE hlēo and the place-name element –low, as in Hounslow, Ludlow, etc.). The Wiełbark culture (1st-5th centuries CE), which is thought to be ancestral to the historical Goths, did raise mounds and stone heaps over some graves. However, for some reason the Goths lost the practice of building mounds; later Gothic graves are flat (Heather, The Goths, pp. 68-77).

Burials in England included coffin burials, but also some burials in chambers lined with wooden planks. For example, the recently discovered grave of the “Prittlewell Prince” is a chamber four meters on each side, lined with wood and containing rich grave goods. Within this chamber lay a coffin with the actual body. The Prittlewell Prince’s grave was originally covered by a mound, later destroyed by ploughing (Higham, “The Prittlewell Chambered Grave,” p. 120). Such mounds were commonly raised over the graves of rulers; the most famous example is the complex of mounds at Sutton Hoo.

More modest graves might be surrounded by a ring-shaped ditch, with the excavated dirt piled over the grave to create a small mound. The English were also known to “reuse” Bronze Age burial mounds, burying their own dead in and around these mounds, and sometimes building square enclosures of posts around them (Semple, “A Fear of the Past,” pp. 116-120). In fact, construction of the visitor’s center at Sutton Hoo unearthed a cemetery with thirty-one graves (twelve cremations and nineteen burials), eight of which were centered on a Bronze Age mound. Other English cemeteries were created inside Roman enclosures (Fern, Before Sutton Hoo, pp. 191-196).

In some English burials, the corpse was laid in the grave in the prone position, facing downwards. Sometimes this could simply result from rough handling of the coffin, but in other cases this is suspected to have been done to people whose powers were feared by the community. Grave  29 at Abingdon contained a young woman who had not only been buried prone, but had been buried with a pouch at her belt and covered by about fifty large stones (Reynolds, Anglo-Saxon Deviant Burial Customs, pp. 185-187). Grave 18 at Lechlade contained a female aged 25-30 who had been buried with about fifty diverse objects, including pouches, old coins, and possible amulets such as a beaver-tooth pendant, and then covered with large stones (Reynolds, pp. 194-196). Two graves at West Heslerton, 113 and 132, contained females who had been buried in the prone position with numerous probable amulets, including walnuts mounted in copper-alloy fittings (Reynolds, pp. 198-201). It’s a reasonable guess that these were “cunning women,” who might have been buried prone so that the living could not see their eyes,76 and who might have been buried under stones to stop them from coming back after death.

The sagas mention both burial and cremation, and there was a sense that customs had changed; Hákonar saga góða 15 has Asbjorn refer to the brunaǫld, the “age of burning,” and the haugsǫld, the “age of mounds,” to mean the past times when people were cremated and the present time when they were buried (see also Heimskringla, Prologue). According to Ynglinga saga 8, Odin introduced the custom of cremation, and Ibn Fadlan claims that one of the Rus at the funeral that he witnessed told him that “we burn them [in the fire] in an instant, so that at once and without delay they enter paradise. . . His Lord, for love of him has sent a wind that [will bear] him hence within the hour” (Lunde and Stone, Ibn Fadlān and the Land of Darkness, p. 54).

On the other hand, Snorri specifically mentions that Freyr began the custom of mound-burial (Heimskringla, Prologue). Thus it is possible that cremation was preferred for followers of Odin, while mound burial was preferred for followers of the Vanir. In the Icelandic sagas, however, cremation is only done when the corpse is walking after death and causing trouble, as Thorolf Twist-Foot does in Eyrbyggja saga and Hrappr does in Laxdæla saga. In fact, evidence of cremation was completely lacking in the Icelandic archaeological record until 2001, when a mound called Hulduhóll (“Huldfolks’ Hill,” to this day considered to be the home of landwights) was found to contain a Heathen-era cremation grave (Byock et al., “A Viking-Age Valley in Iceland”, pp. 214-215). The reason is simple: Funeral pyres require a great deal of fuel, and Iceland had little wood to spare. Only when a corpse was at risk of walking again would it have been worthwhile to burn it.

Ship Burials

A few sagas mention ship burial, and here we have plenty of corroboration from archaeology: the body or ashes of a notable person might be set in a ship which was then covered by a mound. The most famous examples are the ship burials at Sutton Hoo in England, Vendel and Välsgarde in Sweden, and Gokstad and Oseberg in Norway, but there may be as many as five hundred such burials known, albeit often in smaller boats. We might mention the woman buried with two possible seiðr-staffs and other rich goods (including possible looted objects from a church) at Vindum, Norway; the man and child buried together in a boat at Kaldárhöfði, Iceland; the man, woman, and child buried in a ship at Scar in Orkney (Halstad McGuire, “Sailing Home,” pp. 167-175); and the ship burial discovered at Ardnamurchan, Scotland in 2011, the first to be discovered on the British mainland (Harris et al., “Assembling Places and Persons”).

There are also many examples of graves surrounded by stones forming the outline of a ship, as in the Viking Age cemetery at Lindholm Høje near Nørresundby, Denmark. The Oseberg ship was securely moored by being tied to a large stone, the boats at Scar and Ardnamurchan were filled with stones, and in Gisla saga surssonar 17, Gisli drops a large stone onto the boat in which Thorgrim is being buried. Like the Hel-shoes tied together or the needles stuck in the feet, this may have been done to keep the ship from returning to the land of the living.

The most famous style of “Viking funeral” was laying out a dead warrior with all his gear in a ship, pushing the ship out to sea, and setting it on fire.

In the myths, Balder was supposedly sent off that way; in legend, King Haki in Ynglingasaga 23, and Sigurd Ring in the lost Skjǫldunga saga (transl. Waggoner, Sagas of Ragnar Lodbrok, pp. 60-61), were sent to the afterlife in blazing funeral ships. In Beowulf, Scyld Scefing was brought to Denmark as an infant by a mysterious ship. When he died, his people laid his body on another ship, surrounded by treasure, and sent it out to sea to return him to the place from whence he had come—although in this case the ship is not said to have been set on fire. In the mundane world, we don’t have real evidence that funeral ships at sea were ever burned, although a ship on the ocean that burned until it sank might not leave much evidence that archaeologists could detect.

We have slightly better evidence that ships were sometimes burned on land, notably Ibn Fadlan’s description of the Rus funeral, in which he mentions that less well-off men were simply placed in a small boat and burned, while the wealthy chieftain who died received a long and lavish send-off (Lunde and Stone, Ibn Fadlān and the Land of Darkness, pp. 49-54). The legendary Danish king Frothi decreed that commanders slain in battle were to be burned on their own ships, while up to ten steersmen would have to share a single ship for cremation (History of the Danes V.160, transl. Fisher, p. 148).

The burial or cremation rites themselves were sometimes the time for highly emotional songs. Even though Tacitus claimed that German men were expected to remember their grief in their hearts instead of mourning openly (Germania 27), and even though Beowulf advises Hrothgar that it’s better to take vengeance than to mourn (1384-1385), actual practice in many Germanic cultures seems to have been rather different. Beowulf records how all the folk mourn aloud: Higum unrōte mōdceare mǣndon mondryhtnes cwealm, “in mind despairing, they moaned their grief at their lord’s death”—and how a Geatish woman wails a lament as Beowulf’s body burns (3137-3155). Beowulf’s thanes ride in a circle around his burial mound, lamenting his death as well as praising his deeds: “they wished to speak their sorrow and mourn their king, utter a lay and speak about the man.” (3171-3172)

This custom of riding around in a circle may go back to Indo-European roots, since similar customs are depicted in Homeric Greek poetry (Dowden, European Paganism, p. 271).

The Old English poem The Dream of the Rood 67, which is about the crucifixion of Jesus but retains some Heathen imagery, adds the non-Biblical detail that the disciples sang a sorhleod, “sorrow-lay,” at Jesus’s burial (Krapp, The Vercelli Book, p. 63). Jordanes tells of the battle-death of King Theoderid of the Visigoths: “. . . they honored him with songs and bore him away in the sight of the enemy. You might have seen bands of Goths shouting with dissonant cries and paying the honors of death while the battle still raged” (History of the Goths XLI.214; transl. Mierow, p. 111).

Plutarch describes the laments of the surviving Ambrones after their defeat by the Romans as “not like the wailings and groans of men, but howlings and bellowings with a strain of the wild beast in them, mingled with threats and cries of grief” (Life of Caius Marius XX.2; transl. Perrin, pp. 516-517). But perhaps the most famous lament in the lore, as well as one of the finest poems 434  in Old Norse, is Egill Skallagrímsson’s “Sonatorrek”, which begins with an outburst of rage and grief, but ends with his affirmation and acceptance of his fate.

It has occurred to the author, a native of Louisiana, that perhaps the closest modern equivalent to a pre-Christian Heathen funeral, at least in spirit, would be a New Orleans jazz funeral. The brass band plays slow dirges as the body is conveyed to the cemetery, but after the burial, the band launches into upbeat tunes as the folks in the “second line” dance, celebrating the dead one’s life instead of bewailing his or her death. But the need to affirm the joy of life, even in the face of death, is, perhaps, as much a universal human need as the need to grieve.

Runestones

Memorial runestones served two purposes. For legal purposes, they recorded a family’s title to land. A family could point to visible records of its ancestors on the land, which were very difficult to steal or falsify. From a spiritual perspective, runestones allow the dead to be remembered: “A son is better, even though born late, after his father has passed; memorial stones seldom stand near a road, unless kinsman raises them for kinsman” (Hávamál 72).

Runestones were not necessarily grave markers, although they often commemorate the dead and may contain curses against anyone who disturbs the dead or the monument. For example, one of the 7th-century runestones from Blekinge, Sweden threatens hermalas ær ærgiu weladuds sa þat briutiþ, “protectionless [because of] perversion, an insidious death to 435

him who breaks this.” The nearby runestone from Björketorp bears a nearly identical threat: uþarba spa “baleful prophecy,” and ærgiu hermalausr uit ær weladauþe sar þat brytr, “protectionless because of [their] perversion, an insidious death to him who breaks this” (Macleod and Mees, Runic Amulets and Magic Objects, pp. 112-113). But runestones were often raised for people whose bodies were unrecoverable because they had died at sea, or died in a distant land. A set of about twenty runestones in Sweden record men who “fell in the East with Yngvar,” recording a famous Viking expedition that may have gone as far as Georgia and Azerbaijan before ending in disaster in the year 1041 (Gritton, “Yngvars saga víðförla and the Ingvar Runestones,” pp. 58-69).

The picture-stones of Gotland were raised as grave markers between about 400 and 800 CE, but later stones, including the largest and most elaborately carved stones, are not associated with any graves and were presumably raised as monuments (Andrén, “Doors to Other Worlds,” pp. 34-35). Some scenes carved on these later monuments might show the dead person’s journey, especially the scenes of travel in a ship (on memorials raised for men) or in a wagon (on those raised for women).

Other scenes depict legends, such as events in the life of Sigurd, Weland Smith, or Hedin and Hogni; these seem to be metaphors for the deceased man’s strength and wisdom (Andrén, pp. 38-43).

Grave-Goods

From the earliest Stone Age to the coming of Christianity, the peoples of Europe have left valuable items in the graves of their dead. This is a common practice in cultures all over the world. Iron Age and Viking Age people of means went to the grave or pyre dressed in fine clothes and wearing jewelry, with luxury goods such as drinking horns, glass and wood cups, buckets and ladles and other vessels, and board games.

Women were buried with spindles and weaving implements, and some were buried with cooking gear; the Oseberg ship burial contained the bodies of two women, their spindles, yard-winders, a small frame loom, and a complete set of kitchen gear. Men (and some women) were buried with weapons and armor, although there were exceptions: the Goths never buried weapons with their dead, although they did bury them with fine clothing and treasure (Wolfram, History of the Goths, pp. 90, 111, 227-228). Egils saga Skallagrímssonar 58 mentions that Egil’s father Skallagrim, a blacksmith, was buried with his tools; archaeological finds confirm that people could be buried with smithing tools (e.g. Nordahl, “A Viking Blacksmith”). Food and drink were often placed in graves. Fruits and nuts are fairly common grave offerings; the women in the Oseberg ship, for example, had a bucket of apples. Animals might be killed and buried or cremated with the dead, a practice described in Ibn Fadlan’s account of the Rus and documented from many graves.

Those who were cremated might have their goods burned with them, or alternately might be given unburned goods when their ashes were buried. Beowulf was given both. When he dies, Wiglaf commands that the treasures from the dragon’s hoard must be burned with him (3014-3017):

þā sceall brond fretan,

ǣled þeccean, nalles eorl wegan

māððum tō gemyndum, nē mægð scȳne

habban on healse hringweorðunge. . .

The torch must devour them,

the fire must cover them. No earl shall bear

these treasures in remembrance; no pretty girl

shall have the honor of wearing these rings on her neck. . .

Beowulf’s pyre is helmum behongen hildebordum, beorhtum byrnum, “hung with helmets, with battle-boards [shields], with bright mailcoats” (3139-3140). Yet when Beowulf’s cremated remains are placed in the barrow, more treasures are added (3163-3168):

hī on beorg dydon bēg ond siglu

eall swylce hyrsta swylce on horde ǣr

nīðhēdige men genumen hæfdon

forlēton eorla gestrēn eorðan healdan

gold on grēote þǣr hit nū gēn lifað

eldum swā unnyt swā hyt ǣrer wæs.

They placed in the barrow rings and brooches,

all trappings such as hostile men

had previously taken from the hoard;

they allowed earth to hold the noble’s riches,

gold in the gravel, where it lives yet,

as useless to men as it was before.

The usual assumption is that these grave goods were things that the deceased would need in the afterlife. Slain animals might be either food for the dead, or animals whose services would be welcome in the afterlife, such as horses, hounds, and hawks. However, it’s not always that simple. As archaeologists say, the dead don’t bury themselves; the living bury the dead, and the living create the ritual to express multiple meanings. In some cases, the slain animals in the grave may have been intended to guide the dead to the next world. In other cases, they may have been killed as part of lengthy, elaborate rituals in which myths, legends, and/or significant events of the dead person’s life were acted out (Price, “Mythic Acts,” pp. 29-38).

We can perhaps gain a few more clues to the religious significance of burial through amulets that were buried with the dead. In the Mälaren region of Sweden in the 9th century, cremation burials contained large iron rings (about 15 cm in diameter) with multiple iron Thor’s Hammers, as well as smaller rings, pendants shaped like axes, and other miniature objects. It’s a reasonable conjecture that these were connected with the worship of Thor, possibly asking Thor to protect the dead in the afterlife. Smaller rings bearing multiple amulets, including Hammers but also miniature rings, swords, spears, firesteels, and staffs, are more widely distributed in Scandinavia, and it’s possible that they had a similar protective function (Fuglesang, “Viking and Medieval Amulets,” pp. 15-18). 438

Isolated Hammers and other model weapons are also known from graves; some of these, such as the miniature amber axes from Gotland, show no signs of wear and may have been made solely for burial with the deceased (Gräslund, “Thor’s Hammers,” p. 190). Amulets shaped like miniature seats may have been made to invoke a deity sitting in a high seat, or as tokens of the role of a seiðkona, who also worked from a high seat. The possible seeress buried at Fyrkat had a silver seat-shaped amulet, among other precious objects (Pentz et al., “Kong Haralds Vølve,” pp. 219-220). English graves also contained amulets, especially in the graves of women who are suspected to have been “cunning women” of some sort. We have mentioned the women buried under large stones who were buried with isolated but significant items such as beaver-tooth pendants or walnuts mounted in bronze. We might also mention the 6th century woman buried with a dozen miniature buckets at Bidford-on-Avon (Dickinson, “An Anglo-Saxon ‘Cunning-Woman’,” pp. 48-50). Miniature buckets are fairly common in English graves, often in groups that were probably kept in bags or attached to pieces of cloth or leather; comparable amulets have been found all over northern and eastern Europe. Given women’s role in brewing and serving drink, these could have been tokens of the women’s role in holding feasts, but this is purely conjectural (Dickinson, pp. 50-52). The woman buried at Bidford-on-Avon was also buried with a pouch that held a bronze stud, a cone made of antler, and possibly two metal rings. Such pouches, containing assemblages of seemingly useless items, are known from several Old English graves of suspected “cunning women.” From the Bronze Age into the 20th century, “cunning women” carried pouches with assorted objects used for divination and healing (Dickinson, pp. 52-53; Meaney, Anglo-Saxon Amulets and Curing Stones, pp. 249-262; Flint, The Rise of Magic, pp. 248-249). The seeress in Eiríks saga rauða 4 kept a pouch at her belt with her tǫfri, “talismans,” and evidently some early English women carried similar pouches.

The Funeral Ale

After the funeral, a feast was held known as the arvel (from Old Norse erfjǫl, erfi-ǫl, “inheritance-ale”). The Norwegian Gulaþingslǫg 23 mentions that funeral feasts were held “on the seventh or the thirtieth morning [after death], or even later” (transl. Larson, The Earliest Norwegian Laws, p. 439

52), while medieval texts from Germany and Sweden mention ceremonies on the third, seventh, and/or thirtieth days (Dowden, European Paganism, p. 264). Svarfdæla saga 7 mentions that the funeral feast held after the mound-burial of Thorolf lasted three nights, “as was customary”—although this feast was held at a jarl’s hall; commoners presumably held shorter, less lavish feasts. Shares of an inheritance could be dealt out at the arvel, and any debts the dead one had left would be settled. The guests would toast the dead person and recount their noteworthy deeds once again. If the dead man had been the head of a household, the feast marked the moment at which the heir would be confirmed as the new head of the household and sit in the high seat. A description of a royal erfjǫl appears in Ynglinga saga 40:

Þat var siðvenja í þann tíma, þar er erfi skyldi gera eptir konunga eða jarla, þá skyldi sá er gerði erfit, ok til arfs skyldi leiða, sitja á skörinni fyrir hásætinu, alt þar til er inn væri borit full, þat er kallat var Bragafull. Skyldi sá þá standa upp í móti bragafulli ok strengja heit, drekka af fullit síðan; eptir þat skyldi hann leiða í hásæti þat, er átti faðir hans; var hann þá kominn til arfs alls eptir hann.

It was the custom at that time that when an heir had to succeed a king or jarl, he who was made the heir and had to come into his inheritance was to sit on the bench in front of the high seat, until the cup that was called bragafull was brought in. Then he had to stand up and face the bragafull and swear an oath, and then drink the cup down. After that he had to be led into the high seat that his father had. Then he had come into his full inheritance from him.

Thus an arvel closely resembled a sumbel, and indeed might be held as a sumbel today. The custom continued well into modern times. In parts of Denmark, the neighbors of a deceased farmer held an arveøl or æreøl one month, six months, or a year after the death, serving beer and sometimes bread or cakes. An æreøl might also be held the evening after the funeral; in Skåne, the family would send beer and spirits for the town aldermen to distribute to everyone (Christiansen, “The Dead and the Living,” pp. 63-64). In England, cakes or biscuits known as “arval-bread” were baked for the feast and given to the mourners, and sometimes distributed to 440

everyone in the district (Baker, Folklore and Customs of Rural England, p. 149; Thompson, “Arval or Avril Bread”. pp. 84-86)

New Traditions from Ancient Models

To some extent, what rites are performed today will depend on whether the deceased will be buried, which has a time constraint, or has been cremated, in which case friends and family can put off disposal of the ashes and memorial services until a time when everyone can be present. Options for funeral rites are also limited by the local laws. The following discussion is based on the laws of the United States; citizens of other countries should research their own countries’ laws governing the final disposal of bodies.

Some states allow families and/or religious groups to care for their own dead. Others require that you have a licensed funeral director for at least some services. In every state, a death must be legally recorded by a death certificate, which may mean that the body must be taken temporarily to the county morgue. But in many states, a corpse does not absolutely have to be turned over to a funeral home, and home funerals are still legal.77 In these states it may be possible to hold a traditional wake at the home of the deceased.

Whether the body is laid out at home or sent to a funeral home, it should be dressed well and comfortably and given sturdy Hel-shoes and perhaps a walking staff; the road to the lands of the dead is long. The body should be given whatever treasures are to accompany it—weapons, jewelry, or anything else. Note that if the body is to be cremated, metal objects or anything non-flammable will have to be removed before the body can be burned. These can be placed with the ashes later, or may be burned separately. If burial or cremation in a boat isn’t practical, a model ship or other fitting means of transportation could be buried or burned with the body.

Both burial and cremation are acceptable ways to treat a body in Heathen tradition. Unlike religions such as Judaism and Islam, Heathenry has no religious restrictions on embalming, the use of a coffin or a burial vault, and so on. Today, a growing number of people are balking at the high cost of a traditional funeral (even if the funeral director isn’t trying too hard to upsell the most expensive casket model) and looking for alternatives. Given the costly funeral rites described by people like Ibn Fadlan, and the rich goods found in many ancient graves, it is clearly not “un-Heathen” to spend a lot of money on a funeral! However, this has to be tempered by care for the needs of the living; a costly funeral has to be weighed against providing for the future financial needs of the spouse, children, or other heirs. Even wealthy Heathens today might prefer inexpensive disposal of their physical remains, to be made up for by lavish feasting for the living.

Some Heathens might prefer environmentally friendly options that avoid the toxic chemicals used in embalming. In “green burial,” a body is buried with no embalming and no vault, and sometimes wrapped only in a shroud with no coffin. The body decays fairly rapidly and ultimately becomes part of the earth. This is certainly traditional—all burials were “green burials” until recently! Modern cemeteries vary in their openness to this; as with so much else, this requires advance planning.78 On the other hand, Heathens who choose to be buried with rich grave goods might wish to invest in a vault, as that provides protection against would-be grave robbers (and may be easier to arrange than a huge pile of stones or a great earthen mound).

For those who don’t wish to be buried in a Christian cemetery or deal with the modern funeral industry, one possibility is to be buried on private land. Most states allow burial on private land, or at least have no laws forbidding the practice, but some states require that burials be in designated cemeteries. States that allow burial on private land may have specific requirements for private burial, such as requiring the grave to be a certain depth. Individual counties and cities may impose further limitations on private burial. The disadvantage of burial on private land is that the land may later be sold; if this happens, the graves may not be properly cared for. States vary in how much protection they grant to graves on private land; some require landowners to grant free access for people to visit their own relatives’ graves, but others don’t. Many states also allow “abandoned” gravesites or private cemeteries to be taken under eminent domain, or for landowners to move the remains elsewhere—meaning that your howe could be bulldozed to make way for a strip mall. Anyone considering burial on private property should look into the legal requirements and make the appropriate arrangements well in advance, preferably with the aid of a good lawyer.

A sufficiently large kindred or other organization might consider acquiring a plot of land and having it officially designated as a cemetery. This may require incorporating as a cemetery association and establishing a sizable fund for permanent maintenance, although in some states the laws governing religious groups’ cemeteries are less strict than those governing private secular cemeteries. The first step in creating a Heathen cemetery would be to contact the state Cemetery Board or equivalent for information on the requirements. Again, a competent lawyer should be able to advise. The Danish Heathen group Forn Siðr was able to establish an Ásatrú cemetery in the city of Odense, as part of a larger city-owned cemetery; it consists of a stone ship setting, within which people are buried. Individual graves are not marked, but memorial stones for the individual people form a wall that will eventually enclose the ship setting (Pierri, “The Asatru Burial Ground,” pp. 28-30).

In the US, Rob Schreiwer, Troth Steersman and also founder of Urglaawe, owns a family cemetery and makes it available to Urglaawe members. This is obviously a desirable goal for a large Heathen group with financial resources.

Today, when burial is expensive, many cemeteries are already full, or a Heathen has no desire to lie in a Christian cemetery, cremation is a popular option. Although most localities have laws about the disposal of ashes, in many cases there is little attempt to enforce them. Cremation offers the simplest way of carrying out the traditional practice of keeping the dead close to the living. The ashes may be kept in the home, or they might be buried in a mound with grave-gifts on family-owned land. If ashes are buried on family property, then if the family moves, they will have to decide whether to dig up the urn and carry it with them, or leave it. This is still easier to do than moving a coffin would be.

Scattering ashes in a place that the deceased loved is a fairly common custom in modern times, and we don’t mean to tell Heathens that they can’t do this. However, in the sagas, the only times that ashes are scattered are when the deceased has been walking after death and causing trouble, like Thorolf Twist-Foot in Eyrbyggja saga (and even in this case it doesn’t entirely work). Another approach that has been used is burial at sea, in which the ashes are placed in a bio-degradable container and put with the offerings on a miniature Viking ship which is carried out to sea—either by the tide, if you know the currents well enough to be certain that the ship will, in fact, be carried away, or by lowering it from a boat. The ship may be doused with fuel and set afire. The US Coast Guard recently carried out just such a funeral for a WWII veteran of Norwegian descent, who had built a 54-inch wooden Viking ship by hand for the specific purpose of carrying his ashes as it burned (Myers, “Coast Guard Gives WWII Vet a Viking Funeral at Sea”).

If, as will often happen, the ultimate destination of the body is a location where the kindred or friends will not be able to attend, the wake, velfarskål, and/or arvel can be performed as memorial services. Given the widely dispersed nature of our community, some people may be given multiple funeral arvels at different places, with a picture of the deceased as their focus.

Today, if a Heathen must be buried in a public cemetery or even a Christian one, a runestone might be the best way to mark out the grave as Heathen. You can try to carve a gravestone yourself, but some cemeteries restrict the types of monuments that may be placed on a grave, and will remove non-approved ones. Clear this with the cemetery ahead of time—it would be a shame to have your intricately carved six-foot runestone removed by the cemetery owner because it gets in the way of the lawnmower. If you have a stone carved by a professional, note that carvers in some areas might be unable or unwilling to carve characters that they don’t understand, or to create a memorial on behalf of a non-mainstream religion.

There is also a risk that non-Heathen carvers might make mistakes in carving runes that they can’t read; this seems to have happened in the old days as well, which is one of many reasons why interpreting rune inscriptions today can be so difficult. As with many other things, this should be planned in advance if at all possible. We might also advise making sure the stone is large enough and firmly rooted enough that it deters thieves and vandals. A rune-carved curse on anyone who disturbs the stone wouldn’t be a bad idea, either.

In addition to (or instead of) a stone over the grave, you could set up a memorial stone on any land that stays in the family or kindred. Unlike gravestones, these don’t need to be raised immediately after burial.

We continue to honor the memory of the dead in Ásatrú long after they have left us

The bond between the dead and the living does not end when the last spadeful of earth is placed on the grave. Cultures around the world have traditions of ancestor worship. Recent ancestors are often worshipped by their own families. “Superior ancestors”—great leaders or other distinguished people—may come to be worshipped by whole societies, including by people with no family connection (Laidoner, Ancestor Worship and the Elite, pp. 53-63).

The missionary Boniface attacked the Frankish practice of “sacrifices to the dead” (transl. Emerton, Letters of St. Boniface, pp. 48-49, 70), and the Indiculus superstitionum et paganiarum listed de sacrilegio ad sepulchra mortorum, “sacrilege at the tombs of the dead” (ed. Boretius, Capitularia Regum Francorum, p. 223). English church penitentials condemn the Heathen practice of burning grain “at the place where a man is dead, for the health of the living and the house” (Liber poenitentialis Theodori XXVII.15; Confessionale et poenitentiale Ecgberti 32; in Thorpe, Ancient Laws, vol. 1, pp. 292-3, 356). This may well have been an offering to the dead person.

From Norway, the tale of Olaf Geirstad-Alf refers to the worship given to deceased kings. The story as we have it was written by pious Christians, who put a speech in King Olaf’s mouth explaining that worshipping the dead can’t actually work. Nonetheless, it gives a suggestion of what pre-Christian practices may have been like, by the very act of trying to refute them:

“I warn all people against this: they should not follow the example of some men, who sacrifice to dead men whom they found to be trusty in life, because I don’t believe that it can be of use to dead men. I know it’s true that after a while, those men who once received sacrifices are turned into trolls. I suppose that these same evil wights sometimes appear to cause benefits, but sometimes cause harm—I am much afraid of famine coming into the land after we are buried. Even if we must receive sacrifices next, and then be turned into trolls, still, we will cause neither.”

Despite Olaf’s warnings, “The people adopted the plan of sacrificing to King Olaf for good seasons for themselves, and they called him Geirstad-Alf” (transl. Waggoner, “Tales from the Flateyjarbók VII,” p. 13).

According to Hálfdanar saga svarta 9, Hálfdanr brought such fruitfulness during his reign that after death, men from four different districts asked for his body, because they thought that wherever he was buried could expect good harvests. In the end, his body was cut into four pieces and buried in four different burial mounds, the Hálfdanarhaugar or “Halfdan’s Mounds.” Other sources, such as the histories Fagrskinna and Ágrip, claim that he was buried in a single mound and not dismembered. All the same, people still seem to have believed in the Hálfdanarhaugar; there were several mounds that received offerings in the Vestfold area, and some of them kept the name “Halfdan’s mound” into early modern times. The mounds established the authority of Hálfdan’s kinsmen over the lands where he was allegedly buried (Laitoner, Ancestor Worship, pp. 119-121).