The place beyond the pines.
Near Current-Day Pays de Caux, France ; First half of the 11th Century. Photo courtesy Ivana Desančić. Recreation of the 'pillbox' hat from Haithabu, displayed with knife and leather sheath.
Haithabu, Current-Day Germany ; Latter half of the 10th Century. Location: Haithabu, Current-Day Germany Date: Approx. 10th Century Culture: Viking Age Danish Estimated Social Class: Upper Garment Type: Wool Trousers Often erroneously called “Rus trousers” in modern media, it seems that pleated or gathered, overly-baggy trousers were a hallmark of Viking Age Scandinavian fashion. Mentioned in both contemporary literature from those who came in contact with these peoples, as well as seen in stone carvings and artwork from the time, we know these were a uniquely-fashioned garment, specific to this culture and period in time, and finds from Haithabu seem to shed some light on just how these trousers may have been made and developed. The initial description of these trousers, according to modern archaeological terms, is that they are approximately knee-length, ending either just above or just below the knee, though the latter seems more logical, with legs of several meters of fabric a piece, which is then pleated or gathered at the knees and waist to form the unique pleats seen in contemporary artwork. They were likely constructed of wool, and the extant fragments from Haithabu confirm this, which we will cover later in the article. Trousers of this style are mentioned on several occasions in literature from the time, most notably in reference to Hauk Hábrók, whose last name literally means “high breeches”, and is mentioned at a few different points in the Icelandic Sagas, as well as by the Persian explorer Ibn Rustah, who wrote of his encounters with the “Rus” (which now it is debated if these were, in fact, Rus at all he met), in which he wrote of their trousers “which were of 100 cubits per leg and were gathered at the knee. While the exact meaning behind modern interpretations of “100 cubits per leg”, as well as the exact means they were gathered at the knee has been debated, nonetheless, we still get a rather decent image of how these trousers may have looked, and a clear idea that this is in reference to the same style of trouser seen in art from the time, as well as found in the fragments recovered from Haithabu. In this article, we will look at these trousers, the original fragments and artwork, and our own interpretation of how they may have been assembled and worn. The Original Fragments The most notable of the fragments regarding this particular style of trousers is that of 72 A & B. One of the largest of the trouser fragments recovered at Haithabu, this piece consists of the crotch gusset and leg pieces of a pair of trousers, which is likely styled in the fashion mentioned in this article. The piece, though heavily torn and frayed, still gives a good idea of how the trousers may have looked, with a long, slender front gusset, much like that seen on the much earlier Thorsberg trousers. The textile is of an irregular plain weave, which Hägg equates in “Textilfunde aus Haithabu” as being “crepe-like”, though it should be noted that this is not woolen crepe in the sense we know it today, and is likely only intended to describe that it is an irregular, yet fine weave with natural creases and wrinkles caused by the weave of the textile itself. This feature is most notable on the leg pieces affixed to the center gusset, which further adds to the theory that these came from a pair of Hábrók, or “high breeches” with pleats and gathers, as not only does the fabric show signs of this, but the fine quality of the textile would make gathering and pleating in such vast quantities easier and more ergonomic when compared to the other, denser textiles used to make garments from the region. While the gusset itself overall matches that of the legs, the bottom has remnants of another fabric being affixed, this one green in nature and slightly denser. This is likely an extension of the crotch gusset and where it meets the back rear one, with the lower greenish pieces actually being the lower portion of the rear gusset, indicating the lower half of the front, as well as the square or trapezoidal back gusset, were of a separate greenish wool. Fragment 91A is a narrow band of textile which matches that of the gusset and legs of 72 A & B, and was likely a piece of the leg. The Reconstruction Because the original pieces are so fragmentary, a good deal of archaeological guesswork had to be made to recreate these trousers. While this is by no means conclusive, and a good portion of this reconstruction is conjectural, we hope to establish at least a decent, academically-sourced baseline to study how and why these trousers may have been worn. The presence of front and back gussets, as well as them being in two separate colors, indicates a good deal of thought went into producing trousers in this fashion. As Hägg notes, the gussets heavily resemble those of the Thorsberg trousers, and were likely used on other trousers from Haithabu, as well, meaning that the style of adding these features was a long-standing practice among Danish peoples and extended from the Migration Period well into the latter years of the Viking Age, and even evolved with, and was incorporated into, the changing fashions of the time. The gussets being of contrasting colors is also of note, and seems to continue the reflection of a trend utilized at Haithabu of clothing constructed from multiple colors, however, trousers such as these are explicitly mentioned in contemporary literature as halflit or tviskipt in the Sagas, with a red and green combination also being allegedly made, indicating this practice may have been common as far along as early post-Viking Age Iceland, with references to setgeira-brækr or “seat-gored trousers” being made in the Laxdæla Saga. Why this practice came into existence is unknown to us, though academics have given nods to the Thorsberg and Damendorf trousers as being likely descendants of Germanic Auxiliaries serving within Roman Legions as cavalrymen, and seat-gored trousers being initially an Eastern cavalry fashion later adopted by these peoples. This theory, which will be more heavily examined in another article on its own, does hold some sway, as prior to this fashion, Germanic trousers were often seen as being knee-length and rather simple, however, during the final days of Rome’s hold over Germania, this new fashion begins to arise. Tests have shown that having gussets in the front and back of the trousers does help facilitate better comfort when on horseback, as well as better overall comfort and mobility when fighting, as well, and these two facets of early Medieval life, usually associated with a martial warrior class, would make sense for this style to have been adopted into the warrior’s form of dress. The size of the legs posed another issue. Original contemporary accounts size them as being “100 cubits per leg”. While this has been debated and speculated on what the original reference to this size was, many agree that Ibn Rustah’s measurement was approximately five meters per leg, which is insanely excessive. At our rate, with only two per leg, this becomes almost unwieldy – both to produce, and to wear. We started with a total of six meters – three per leg – but when scaled to my own (as well as a likely waist size for an average Viking Age male), which is approximately 32” (81.28cm), even this seemed to be too much, especially when trying to walk, so we scaled it back to two meters per leg, which seems about right. Even with using a light plain weave like the original fragments, these trousers grew extremely heavy, so anything heavier, or anything larger, would have been most unlikely. As far as the gathers and pleating goes, we still are unsure of the practice and how it was actually done. Hägg explicitly notes that most of the folds and gathers on the fragments do appear to have been done while they were worn, as is seen in the wear on the backsides of these folds from the wearer’s legs rubbing against them, however, she also notes that the folds and pleats do not extend the full length of the fragment, indicating they were likely haphazard. This could have been as a result of being gathered at the waist and knees, with the folds and pleats simply falling and folding where they may when the garment was donned and worn throughout the day, however we are unsure. She does note that the creasing and folds are also a natural response to the weave of the textile itself, which is an irregular plain weave. While some have theorized that this may have been done by using a drawstring at the waist, much like that seen on the Skjoldehamn trousers from Norway, our own tests found that gathering that much fabric in a drawstring configuration tends to pull too much fabric together and creates a massive, unavoidable “bum roll” around the wearer’s waist, which even fashion-conscious men of the time would have likely not been very fond of, so we opted out of the drawstring method and opted rather for a pleated waistband. While some fragments of waistbands do appear in Haithabu, notably those of 22 A – C, none seem to have survived for this particular style. The simple Thorsberg-style waist band would do little to hold all of the pleats in place, so we went with a conjectural style, both for ease of production, but also wear, and chose a two-sided linen band. With this, the pleats are folded, and then cased inside the lower hem of the waistband, which is then folded up and sewn across the top with belt loops affixed. This not only makes holding the pleats in cleaner, but the linen also reduced the bulking issue the waist band would have if a matching wool were used. Since the top of fragment is no longer present, and linen deteriorates more than most animal fibers, a linen waist band is not out of the question, especially given the supposed high social status of these trousers. Kurt Schietzel in his work, “Spurensuche Haithabu” does note that there are examples recovered in which belts were laid on top of a linen garment, which was partially preserved around the belt’s buckle, with wool on top of that. This could be taken as being used to hold up a pair of trousers with a linen waistband and the wool tunic placed over it, however, more research will need to be done on this theory before anything conclusive can be said for sure. Ibn Rustah also alludes that these trousers were “rolled up to the knee and gathered”. While the initial theory may be they were simply left baggy all the way down, tests showed that trying to gather and pleat two meters of wool into a knee-sized space and then bind it with a leg wrap was near impossible, therefore, another means of gathering was likely. Again, some have theorized drawstrings, however, with no evidence of this, and the impending same issue as with the waist, we opted for a similar design, with the legs pleated into linen bands which were then sewn up. Again, while conjectural, until we recover any lower portions of these trouser legs, the use of linen bands in this method can be neither proven nor disproven at this time and should be regarded as such. The length of the trousers should also be mentioned, with the significance of knee-length trousers in Northern European culture. We know as early as the 1st Century that knee-length trousers were in fashion with Germanic peoples, as has been noted by depictions on the likes of the Gundestrup Cauldron, as well as physical extant finds like the Marx-Etzel and Daetgen trousers. While longer trousers undoubtedly came into fashion during the latter years of Roman influence on German regions, with the likes of the Thorsberg trousers, some have speculated that knee-length trousers may have been kept in fashion and worn by upper-class men and warriors (who were often one in the same) as a nod to their heritage. While this may be far-fetched, it should not be completely ruled out of the question, as with the end of Paganism in continental Europe, and the end of the Viking Age, the style quickly fell out of fashion for full-leg trousers, and eventually separate-leg, tightly-fitted hosen. It has been noted by academics, however, that upper-class clothing during the Viking Age did appear to have a more conservative, traditional design, so these may have in fact been, at least in their view at the time, a reflection of the fashions of their ancestors. While worn at the knee, these trousers may have likely been longer, maybe even ankle-length, however, when pulled up and bound with wraps, the excess was pushed out to the sides, further adding to the baggy nature of the look. Hägg does point out in “Textilfunde aus Haithabu” that the quality of the fragments does match that of the leg wraps of Fragment 49, and her relation that is drawn between these two styles seems to indicate they were worn in conjunction with one another. When the lower halves of the legs are gathered into bands, pulling them up and wrapping them with leg wraps is quite easy and tends to stay put for a lengthy period of time with little to no readjustment needed. This fashion, though vague, seems to also be reflected on the pictorial stone carvings of the time. In Conclusion To conclude, it has been determined by the sheer quality and cut of these trousers that they were, in fact, intended for wear by upper-class men. While it is believed loose, baggy clothing was considered a “feminine” fashion to the Viking Age Danes (a trend that would not be carried on by their later Icelandic descendants), this clearly was not the case in regards to trousers of this style, which were likely seen as a status symbol, if not for the financial wealth needed to make them, then for the possible martial value they had, as the men who wore them were likely of a warrior or nobility class, and their wear by lower-class members of Danish society is considered unlikely. The exact intention for this fashion will likely be unknown to us, however, purposes such as horseback riding or even combat (much like Japanese Hakama) are likely candidates. Whether there even was a practical purpose behind them, or if they were purely a fashion statement and indicator of one’s wealth, like an expensive modern-day business suit, we cannot know until further evidence is uncovered. For now, we can merely speculate on these musings, as well as how they were made, how the pleats and gathers were constructed, and what the true measurements of the legs really were. Photo & Information Sources
Location: Haithabu, Current-Day Germany Date: Approx. Late 10th Century Culture: Late Viking Age Danish Estimated Social Class: Middle to Low Garment Type: Separate-Leg Hose As joined trousers, a fashion well in use in Northern Europe for well on over a thousand years at this point, began to fall out of fashion by the end of the Viking Age, a new, and somewhat strange, leg covering began to take their place. These so-called “Hosen” were not a singular garment which pulled up and was belted or rolled around the wearer’s waist, but rather separate tubular “stockings” which pulled on separately and were tied off to a belt which held them in place. When and where these hosen began their life is still subject to much debate, with some suggesting they originated with Byzantine traders, and others theorizing they were Frankish in origin. What we do know is that, by some point, they made their way to Danish territories, either by way of trade or by conquest, and there they remained – and spread to the rest of Europe – and there they would remain for the better part of four or five centuries. Recovered in Haithabu, Germany (a former Danish territory), and dated to the latter part of the 10th Century, our fragment appears to be the upper portion of one of these stockings. It terminates at the top with a point, which is equipped with a leather tie for affixing it to a belt to keep it up, and is has a seam down the back, as well as a separate one that passes horizontally across it. How the completed garment looked in its original state we will likely never know, however we do have some theories. The features of these hosen seem to have remained quite consistent throughout their use, only really changing drastically during the final years of their time in fashion. As a result of this, much of what we believe about the ones worn in Haithabu at this time is surmised from this pre-existing knowledge. Most all of the ones found in contemporary art, from the Bayeux Tapestry to High Medieval depictions, seem to be quite tight-fitting, sometimes appearing in art as if the wearer has nothing on his legs at all, indicating they were cut on the wool fabric’s bias to facilitate stretching. They reach to the upper thigh, with a point in the front to which a tie (or sometimes clasp, as some art depicts) is affixed to hold them up. A seam ran down the back from top to bottom and they were likely either footed or affixed with stirrups, of which we have no idea what style the Haithabu hosen bore. With this general knowledge of Medieval hosen, and the fragment at-hand, we can begin to attempt to paint a semi-complete image of what these garments may have looked like in their original state The Original Fragments To date, only a single piece of this style of stocking has been recovered at the site at Haithabu, labeled as Fragment 2. The fragment is of two sewn parts, both of a semi-fine natural-colored, undyed 2/2 wool twill, with a dark weft and light warp, giving it a sort of lightly striped appearance. There is a seam down the back, which was the original connecting seam of the “tube” that made up the main body of the hose, as well as a horizontal seam, of which the original intent is unknown, though we will speculate on this later. The piece measures 27cm high with a wool thickness of around 0.15cm. Unfortunately, below his horizontal seam the garment is frayed and torn away, meaning we have no information on how the original construction was, or if the stocking had feet, stirrups, or simply terminated at the ankle. At the top of the fragment is a leather thong, originally used to secure the top of the hose to a belt to keep it pulled up and tight. Later in the Medieval Period, these would take form of woven ties with metal tips, called Aiglets, however, this piece is cut from an irregular, hastily-made leather piece, likely from scrap. Even though the piece is only fragmentary, several repairs can be noted, though interestingly enough, while they garment does appear to have been repaired on several occasions, there is no evidence of patching, as is seen on other finds of this type. The repairs, coupled with the worn and irregular leather tie at the top indicates heavy use by the original owner. The Reconstructions For our reconstruction, we opted to go with a more “conventional” approach in regards to their overall make. While the upper half is present, the full length, nature of the feet, and exactly how fitted these hose were is lost to us. As such, we needed to draw information from other contemporary examples for these. To start, the length of these hose has been debated for some time, and for good reason. While at first it should seem that they would extend the full length (to the groin and upper thigh) as later examples, certain contemporary works appear to show stockings of a similar make reaching only about the knee. While it is not debated hose of this style existed, I personally disagree that this is one such example, and rather opted to make these longer and higher like those seen on the Bayeux Tapestry and later works. My reasoning for this is two-fold: the first reason being the presence of ties and its length. While it could be argued the tie could have originally been longer, and had likewise been shorn off or deteriorated over the years, these also could have been the original lengths to affix the top of the hose to a belt, meaning they would need to reach at least to the upper thighs at the shortest in order for the tie to reach the waist and tie off. I would also argue that to make this particular style shorter, coupled with the rather short nature of the male-related tunics from the region, would leave an extreme amount of the wearer’s legs open and free, meaning a secondary layer would need to be worn to cover the legs from the groin to the knee. This could have been a potential use for the loose knee-length baggy trousers also recovered from the region, but how those would have been worn with such hose is still open for debate. The second reason has to do with the presence of the horizontal seam near the top. While it has been speculated for a number of years what this seam was originally meant to do, I personally believe it is because these particular hose are made from a pair of pre-existing trousers. As has already been noted, the hose show evidence of extensive wear and repair, meaning that they could have possibly started life as a pair of fitted trousers, and when the style of separate-leg hose was adopted later on, the owner simply cut the legs off their trousers, took fabric from another part, and sewn it to the top to create the points we see now. This makes more sense when one superimposes the hose on top of a pair of trousers cut in a fashion to those based off fragments from Haithabu, and can see that the horizontal seam lays almost exactly where the trousers widen in the groin and would need to be cut off. We know fashions evolved rapidly during this period of transition at the end of the Viking Age, with tunics growing longer, trousers evolving into hose, and various arms and armor also undergoing extensive changes, as well. However, with these changes, means that those living in areas where the changes were taking place would need to adapt to keep up with the “fashionable norm”. Since these hose are of a heavily-worn “middle-fine” textile, it is likely the owner could ill-afford to trash his trousers in favor of the new fashion of separate-leg hosen, and rather chose to simply amend his pre-existing trousers to emulate the new fashion. This theory of trousers evolving into hosen also falls in line with another issue with these hose: did they bear feet? While most contemporary art from the Medieval Period depicting hosen show them either with feet or stirrups, which these particular examples bore has been lost, however, an extensive argument has been made for the prevalence of fitted and footed trousers, as well (more on that in another article), which means the two styles may have corresponded to one another, meaning that tightly-fitted trousers with sewn-in feet, such as the Damendorf and Thorsberg trousers, may have given way to hosen which also incorporated these features. Because of this, our reconstruction has had feet incorporated into them. With footed trouser fashions aside, it should also be noted that few forms of soft foot protections have been recovered from the Viking Age, much less in Haithabu. This means that in the cold Danish winter months, some form of warmth would have been needed on the feet. Whether socks were a thing during this period is still up for debate, however, incorporating feet sewn into the leg garments not only reduces the need for extra material, but also ensures the wearer’s feet will always be protected, even should the shoes get wet with snow and rain. Adding feet also allows the hosen to be worn more fitted, as tying them tightly at the top will create pull from the foot, and thus tighten the overall look of the hosen themselves when worn. The recreated hosen have been made from the same middle-fine 2/2 wool twill as the originals, with a dark weft and light warp. They have also been cut at the same angle as the original fragment, which when completed, has a good deal of stretch, meaning that cutting clothing on the bias for a more fitted cut was known at this time. At the tops are roughly-cut leather ties for affixing them to a belt. To date, not analysis has been done to determine the animal the leather tie on the original fragment is from, so we opted for deer, as we know red deer was commonly harvested in the region around Haithabu, as has been noted by the extensive antler and bone fragments found within the settlement. Since deer hide is very durable and easy to tie in tight knots, we opted to cut the ties off some scrap, trying to carefully cut them in the rough, hastily-constructed fashion of the original example. Now that the hosen have been completed, the next issue is what they were worn in conjunction with. In later periods, we know that linen underwear, referred to commonly in literature as “braies” were worn. These appear to have started life as a linen wrap that was wrapped, tied, and held in place with a belt to which the hosen were donned over, with later examples evolving into sophisticated tailored undergarments. To date, we have virtually no evidence of what style was worn during the Viking Age in Northern Europe. While trousers could be worn sans any form of underwear, hosen like this undoubtedly needed something to cover the groin region, especially given the short nature of men’s tunics at the time. Whether this was a form of wrap, or some sort of linen underwear tailored akin to trousers we do not know, however, for our recreation, we opted for a conjectural underwear cut. Early attempts to create this fashion with these hosen and a short Haithabu Tunika showed that the linen wrap tended to not hold itself in place very well and wanted to “droop” out from the bottom of the tunic, creating a rather unsightly look which fell apart when use. As a result, we decided an actual tailored undergarment would likely work best. This piece has two separate legs, and the waist is taken in via a drawstring encased in the waistband – a technique already known to us from finds such as the Norwegian Skjoldehamn trousers, which were dated to around the same time as these hosen. It should be noted that the use of these drawstring linen ‘braies’ is purely conjectural, however, a silver crucifix from Gotland, Sweden, that is currently housed in the Swedish History Museum, appears to depict an image of Christ wearing undergarments very similar to this fashion In Conclusion
It should be emphasized at the importance of this find that, while overshadowed by the trouser finds from the region, it gives a glimpse into the ever-evolving fashions of the period, and shows that there is potential for the people that lived then to have adapted their pre-existing fashions to emulate those influencing them. This particular example is clear evidence of a fledgling style that would take root and be worn throughout Europe for the next several-hundred years, until coming full-circle and evolving back into the trousers we know today. Its discovery further adds to the already evident hotbed of cultural trends found in Haithabu, and when coupled with the longer slit tunic also recovered from there, we can begin to see the birth of the fashion styles later made famous by the likes of the Normans, further showing the long-lasting cultural and fashion influences Viking Age Scandinavia and Denmark had on shaping early Medieval Europe. Photo & Information Sources
Surveying ahead of the main force in order to seek out enemy ambushes that may be waiting.
Near Current-Day Pays de Caux, France ; First half of the 11th Century. Photo courtesy Ivana Desančić. The cloak style worn here is likely representative of styles worn in Denmark during the 10th Century. While earlier cloaks were likely much larger (such as the Thorsberg cloak), there is reason to believe later cloaks during the Viking Age were somewhat smaller in size. This cloak measures approximately 169cm x 102cm with a 3cm fringe on the lower edge and adequately provides cover from shoulder to mid-thigh. It is made from a 2/2 wool twill, which has been heavily felted and fulled on both sides. This technique has been noted on the cloak fragment (Fragment 44 B) from Haithabu as having been done on 2/2 wool twill fabric to create a thicker, warmer textile to repel extreme cold and wind - a technique which tests have shown to work very well. Shown below are fragments 24 A and 34, which show the fulling process in its complete form. In addition to being fulled, the cloak has also been dyed dark brown using walnut hulls (juglans regia). Using walnuts not only adds a good deal of easily-obtained color to a garment, but also the acidity of the walnuts themselves work to repel bacteria which could get into the fibers of the garment and cause it to stink or even make the wearer sick. Whether this was actually known to our ancestors in their reasoning for using it as a dye will likely be unknown to us. Three thin blue woad-dyed (isatis tinctoria) stripes have been woven into the cloak, as well. We have also noted from cloak Fragment 84 that stripes, and possibly even checks and/or plaids, of a sort were woven into these cloaks for aesthetic effect. Since this cloak is intended to be representative of a lower-class status, simple stripes were used rather than something more complex and costly. The cloak is then pinned and affixed at the shoulder using a cloak pin. While circular pennanular brooches certainly are more showy and capture our collective "Viking bling" imagination, their numbers are far-outweighed by the numbers of straight pins used on cloaks during this time. Replacing the earlier Fibulae used by Germanic tribes during the end of Rome's advances, these straight pins were often made from bone, wood, antler, or bronze, with the latter being seen here. This example, based off an extant example from Haithabu, is a long, slender bronze pin with a ring affixed at the top. Once the pin has been passed through the fabric of the cloak, a deer leather thong is used to wrap around and secure the pin to the cloak and thus prevent slipping off. Whether these pins were worn with the pointy end facing down or up is unknown to us, though field studies have shown that wearing shorter pins like this with the point facing upward tends to cause the cloak to pull back against the wearer's shoulder and ride up, meaning these shorter pins naturally will pull the point downwards, either from the front - or the back, so wearing it with the point facing down seems to be the most logical and comfortable method at the time. In conclusion, these shorter cloaks are a more cost-effective means to protect one from the environment and cold winter weather, without need for a large, cumbersome doubled-over cloak. Whether these smaller cloaks came into existence from a new-found knowledge of fulling the fabric, thus making the need for larger cloaks that needed to be doubled for warmth obsolete, or purpose-made blankets began to be woven, which negated the need for a garment that served both purposes, and standardized cloaks could begin to be produced, will likely be unknown to us. What we do know is that, when properly fulled to the methods used during the period, a smaller cloak is not only lighter than their larger, doubled counterparts, but also provide just as much warmth as the latter in a smaller package, making them more utilitarian and user-friendly - both for daily life, as well as combat situations. Credit:
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