This article will look at the step-by-step instructions on the process used to make the type II trousers from Haithabu. Note, some steps may have been simplified in the photos for ease of reading, so one's own due diligence and research should be done before making their own reproduction of these trousers! The Process- Step 1: As with any project, the first step is to get all one's pieces cut out. For measurements, each leg is approximately 2 meters of fabric, with a length that stretches from the true waist to just above the ankle, and is made from a fine madder-dyed plain-weave wool. In addition to the legs, a center front crotch gusset is also made from the same wool. The lower half of the crotch gusset and rear gusset are made from a green plain weave wool, and the layout of these pieces is akin to that of the Thorsberg trousers. The waist band and belt loops are made from handwoven linen and should amply fit over the hips and buttocks when being put on. The "ankle" bands are also from the same linen and should only be slightly larger in circumference than one's calf. Step 2: The first step in sewing the trousers is to assemble the front gusset. This means sewing and seam treating the red and green components to form a single long band. Step 3: Once the band has been completed, it is sewn into the front of the legs. In staying with the original stitching pattern of the extant example, the piece is running stitched in place, and then the seam allowances are folded over once and overcast-stitched down. This form of stitching will be used on most all of the components in this project. Step 4: Now we go to the back, where the rear gusset is sewn in between the legs, using the same running and overcast stitching technique. Step 5: Once the rear gusset has been sewn at the edges, it is then connected to the bottom of the green crotch piece, so that now we have a continuous gusset that stretches from the front of the waistband through to the back. This allows for the inner leg seams to continue and be sewn together down to the bottoms, making the tubes for the legs completely connected and ready for pleating. Step 6: Now we focus on the waist; each of the four or five linen belt loops need to be made. These are rectangular in shape and are best made by sewing them at one side into a tube-shaped piece, turning them right-side-out, and then ironing them flat. No need to hem the ends, as these will be tucked into the waistband seams shortly. Step 7: Now comes the fun part; with the belt loops complete, we now begin to pleat and pin the folds of the wool legs into the two pieces of the linen waist band. While conjectural, I have found the easiest way to do this is to have the waist in two separate pieces, and once the legs are pleated, "sandwich" them in between the two waist bands. Be sure to remember to properly measure, space out, and insert your belt loops as you go around! Once you do your running stitch, it will be difficult to undo to put in missing belt loops! Once all this is properly pleated, pinned, and measured, you can begin sewing. Step 8: For the waistband, I used a heavy hand-spun linen thread. This will ensure a good amount of durability in holding all this together, as pleating this much wool into a linen band will cause some degree of stress on the seams - even with the lightweight wool, these trousers are heavy! Your seam will run through the inner side of the waistband, through the pleated wool, through the lower half of the belt loop, and then through the outer half of the waistband. Step 9: Once the lower half is complete, you can do the upper half. I did this by tucking the two upper halves together in on themselves, being sure to get the upper halves of the belt loops as well, and then secured them with a single row running stitch. Since not much pressure is being put on this seam, I decided only a single row stitch will suffice. One thing of note: Be sure to make sure all of your pleats are properly in place when you sew the lower part of the waistband! It wasn't until after I had completed all of this that I noticed one of my outer pleats had come loose as it wasn't properly secured when sewing! No matter, a quick mend at the end of the project should fix it... Step 10: Now, a similar process is done for the lower halves. These can prove a little more challenging, mostly in part due to the fact that there is the same amount of wool as earlier being gathered into a far smaller space. But just take your time and go slow and it'll work out! Sandwich your pleats in between the two halves of linen, double running stitch them together, then close up the upper halves like you did the top of the waistband earlier and you're done! Step 11: Once all of this is done, you can complete your final steps and finishing touches. Here you can age the piece to make it look more worn, add repairs, etc. In my case, I needed to close up that front pleat that came loose during the sewing process! Now you're all done! My own personal sewing time, doing everything by-hand, took about seven to eight hours total, with the most time-consuming part being pleating and pinning the waist and ankles. Most of the seams are basic stitches that can be done at a beginner level, however, the addition of the pleats certainly makes this a more advanced-level project.
For more information on the complete trousers, and how they were likely worn and used in their original form, be sure to check out the other article at projectbroadaxe.weebly.com/viking-age-nordic-history/viking-age-fashion-baggy-type-ii-trousers-from-10th-century-haithabu-hedeby 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
Location: Haithabu, Current-Day Germany Date: Approx. 10th Century Culture: Late Viking Age Danish Estimated Social Class: Varies on fragment Garment Type: Wool Leg Wrap We know from both literary, as well as artistic, sources from the Roman age well into the Medieval period that leg wraps seem to have been used in some form or another, particularly with men’s fashion, to protect the legs and trousers. These wraps appear to have originated as single, wide pieces that took up the entirety of the lower leg in early Germanic fashion, however, as time progressed, most contemporary sources show long, narrow, winding wraps that start at the knee and terminate somewhere around the ankle or foot. The exact use of these wraps seems to have been multi-faceted, from a simple fashion statement, to a very practical use to keep one’s lower legs warm during winter months, or protect the legs and trousers from brush or general wear when undertaking manual labor tasks, or even preventing wear to one’s trouser legs when on horseback, as some sources have suggested as the most likely origin of these wraps in particular. Despite the wide array of uses, these wraps appear to have stayed rather consistent in design for the better part of their lifespan, usually appearing to be somewhere in the range of 7.5cm to 10cm wide, and judging from the locations on the legs in most artwork, long enough to cover the entirety of the lower leg, from knee to ankle, depending on the wearer’s height and measurements. In this article, we will focus specifically on the fragments of these wraps, known as Wickelbander, Puttees, or Winingas, the latter believed to have been the original Old Norse and/or Anglo-Saxon terminology for said accessories, from Haithabu. We will look at the original extant remains from the harbor, our own reproductions, and how the two compare and add up, as well as the practical and archaeological significance of the pieces. The Original Fragments To date, five main fragments have been recovered from the Viking Age settlement of Haithabu (also known as Hedeby) that are believed to be those of leg wrappings. As Inga Hägg notes in “Textilfunde aus dem Hafen von Haithabu”, these five fragments are surprisingly consistent in their makeup, further corroborating our theory as to the consistency of this style, as well as its prevalence in Viking Age and Early Medieval society. These fragments, labeled as 28 Ab, 29, 43, 49 B, and 55C, will be examined here. Starting with the oddest of these fragments, 28 Ab, Hägg notes that this band was composed of two pieces of different weave and color, which appear to have been sewn together to make a single band, as well as bearing hems on the sides. Both of these features go against most other evidence of leg wraps of this type, as most appear to have been woven to size (as opposed to hemmed), and they also usually appear as a single piece, rather that multiple sewn together. This feature leads most experts to believe this particular example was likely on its last leg of use, and had been mended and repaired using cloth from another garment. The fact that most of these examples are of a woven herringbone weave, yet piece B of the fragment is made from a dark, 2/2 woven twill, seems to lend credence that this is likely a potential end piece that has been added toward the end of the wrap’s life in order to preserve it after the end had become worn and/or damaged. The second fragment, 29, also appears to have been cut and hemmed to size, rather than woven to the actual size the wrap was intended to be. It is made from a middle-fine plain weave wool and the fragment measures approximately 23cm long and 7.5cm wide. Fragment 43 is by far the largest of the pieces, measuring in at around 102cm long and 7.5cm wide, it is made from a middle-fine 2/2 twill wool, and has also been woven to size, rather than cut and hemmed like the latter two examples. Fragment 49 b has been woven from a very fine herringbone twill wool and has also been woven to proper size, however there are also very fine reinforcements along the edge of the fragment, as well. Whether these were purely practical, or meant to be somewhat ornamental in some way is unknown to us, as the fragment and the reinforcement all appears to be near the same color, and Hägg never mentions in her work whether there was originally any shade differences noted between the two textile colors. The final fragment, 55 c, is also woven from herringbone twill wool, however, this fragment’s quality appears to be slightly coarser than that of the latter, fragment 49 b, meaning this particular wrap was likely from a slightly less-wealthy (or at least less-determined or crafty) individual. The band, like the previous three, has also been woven to size, and does not bear any signs of having been cut and sewn into shape. Hägg notes in “Textilfunde aus Haithabu” that it appears there are two distinct styles at work here: narrow bands measuring about 7.5cm in width that are woven from either plain or 2/2 twill weave, and wider, approximately 8.5cm bands from herringbone twill. At this time, no analysis has been done to these pieces to determine what was used to dye them, if anything, so we are unsure as to the exact color any of these fragments would have been originally. The Reconstruction For our reconstruction, we opted to go with the finer wide herringbone wraps. The wraps are produced from a finely-woven herringbone wool, and were like the original fragments they were based on, woven to shape, rather than cut and hemmed from separate fabric. Since no analysis has been done on these Winingas fragments to define the dyestuffs used in their coloring, we opted to have these dyed using onion skins – something that would have likely been quite common in the better part of Europe and Scandinavia at the time – and one that produces a rather nice hue of yellow with relative ease. They yellow provides a nice color to the wraps, and the overall outfit, yet is not produced using a dyestuff that would have been out of the reach of even the most common of the population of Haithabu during the latter years of the 10th Century. The wraps measure about 8.5cm wide, and are about ten feet long, which is made to accommodate them being wrapped from the knee to the foot. Since none of the fragments are complete, we have no information on how long they exactly were. Most artwork from other parts of Europe during the time denote the wraps as starting just below the knee and extending down toward the ankle, usually disappearing inside the shoes, as opposed to being wrapped around the tops of the shoes, as was done in later centuries. This leaves us with two methods of wearing the wraps: with hooks, or wrapped in a descending manner without the use of hooks. The first method, akin to 20th Century military puttees, sees the wraps starting down around the ankle and being wrapped upward to just below the knee. These are then theorized as having been fastened to themselves using metal hooks, such as those recovered in regions of Sweden, Britain, and others, which is a likely method, however, the low numbers of these hooks recovered in some regions, as well as a complete lack in Haithabu itself, conflicts with the evident widespread use of these wraps, meaning an alternative method was also likely used. The second theorized method is using no hooks, ties, or fasteners, and simply using the tightness and coarseness of the wool itself to hold the wraps up. Rather than starting at the ankles, and winding upwards, one starts just below the knee and winds down, reaching as far along the foot as possible, to the toes if the length of the wrap allows. This means the tightness of the wraps, paired with the coarseness of the wool itself, and the fact that it is wrapped and terminates underneath the foot, will hold the bands in place with little to no give, even with very strenuous activities, such as long-range trekking, manual labor, or even combat, are taking place. It should, however, be noted that modern medicine practices argue against the wearing of wraps in a downward-facing manner, as this can potentially lead to health problems later in life. While this may be a candidate for authentically wearing one's wraps, prolonged wear should be relegated to the above fashion using hooks, and this method really should only be used for certain short-term historical contexts! In Conclusion
In conclusion, it appears these wraps hit their climax during the Norman conquests of the 11th Century, and are featured heavily on works such as the Bayeux Tapestry, however, they seem to have had a sharp decline in use almost immediately afterward. While there are occasional artistic sources that may show a garment that resembles these wraps, it appears that they were almost entirely eliminated from men’s wardrobes by the beginning of the 12th Century and were rarely paired with the separate-leg hose that would become commonplace for the next several centuries. Photo & Information Sources
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AboutThis part of the site will look at the various aspects of life on Viking Age Danish people. From what they ate, to how they may have fought. Archives
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