Another complex issue arises in the early Danish events, adding to the already puzzling interactions between the Jutland rulers and the Scyldings at Leire. Because the Scyldings and their people were primarily preoccupied with a long-sustained and violent rivalry with a line of Heathobard rulers, as is seen from the poems Widsith and Beowulf. All that is known about the Heathobards is that they were a Baltic people, maybe residing in Jutland, but no one knows for sure who they were.
At first glance, it might be easier to simplify the double problem of Heathobard and Jutish kings by assuming that the Heathobards were actually the Danes from Jutland, whose kings start to appear in Danish history at a later date and who were involved in the Scyldings’ demise. However, this would mean that the Danes, who arrived in Denmark as invaders trying to establish a foothold in a hostile land, would have to endure a protracted civil war between the two groups.
In response to this criticism, an alternative explanation is considered, which holds that the Heathobard assault on the Leire kings symbolizes the uprising of the native population against the Danish invaders—specifically, the Heruls, or at least the small group of them that remain in the Cimbric peninsula today.
One reasonable counterargument to this final point is that the Heathobards and Heruls are essentially swapped out in the two poems, which turns out to be completely at odds with the actual historical occurrence when the Danes defeated and expelled the Heruls. Because the Heathobards are the aggressors and the Scyldings are the defenders of their homeland. What’s more, according to Procopius, a band of Heruls peacefully marched through Danes’ territory at the start of the sixth century, which would not have happened if the Danes had been at war with their domestic brethren at the same time. Dr. Elias Wessén was presented with the intriguing and groundbreaking notion that the Heathobards were actually the Danes, and that the Heruls they battled and ultimately subjugated were actually the subjects of the Scylding princes at Leire, due to the failure of these previous theories and the hypothesis that the Heathobards were the Lombards.
Despite the need for extreme caution, this interpretation does help to clarify a few baffling aspects of the Scylding stories. As a result, if the Scyldings were indeed Heruls, it’s easy to see why their direct ancestor—who belonged to the pre-Danish people but lived within the Danish realm—was called Halfdan (half-a-Dane). It’s also clear why the story ends with tragedy looming over the Scylding household, seemingly culminating with Hrolf Kraki.
According to the Leire Chronicle (108), the Heathobard kings Frode and Ingjald descended from Dan, who, like the Danes, came from Uppsala in Svitjod. Interestingly, the Heathobard dynasty includes the uncommon name Frode twice, which may have some connection to the Swedish god Frö, the legendary founder of the Ynglings, the royal family of Svitjod.
Thus, Dr. Wessén’s idea is unquestionably significant; but, two flaws in it are readily apparent. Two things come to mind: first, that it is highly ill-advised to extrapolate random results from societies where feuds were prevalent to draw conclusions about the participants’ racial identities, and second, that no amount of creativity can change the fact that the Heathobards, not the Danes, were actually the Heruls.
It is obvious that no satisfactory account of sixth-century Denmark can be given at this time, despite the numerous hero legends and the efforts of the early mediaeval chroniclers to unite separate dynasties into one formidable line of Danish kings; hence, there is little use in delving further into these complex issues. Still, it’s certain that the entirety of Denmark wasn’t a unified kingdom governed by a single mighty dynasty; rather, it was a battleground for feuding tribes.
Although it is reasonable to assume that the Danes gained control of Jutland in due time, it is impossible that they permanently dominated the whole peninsula and the Danish islands. The confederacy of nations created by the invading prince Ivar Vidfadmi—who has already been mentioned in relation to the Ynglings of Svitjod—in the seventh century undoubtedly comprised the eastern Danish kingdom (Scania, and maybe even the Danish islands).
The Danish and Swedish king, Ivar Vidfadmi
According to two mediaeval genealogy, Ivar’s father Halfdan Snjalli was the great-grandson of King Hrothgar from the Beowulf epic. This means that Ivar was descended from the Scylding family of Denmark. Halfdan was the brother of the king of Scania. He was also a member of the royal house of a Goth branch that lived in Reidgötaland, which the Hervararsaga claims to have been in what is now northeastern Germany, likely East Prussia and Poland. According to the sagas, he accomplished a great deal in his conquests.
He is supposed to have conquered the East Baltic nations of Kurland and Estland, as well as Sweden and the Danish kingdom. His wide dominions on the mainland are likely a result of his ancestry from the Reidgothic monarchs. The Hervararsaga states that he governed over the region known as Northumberland on the island of Jutland, adding to his list of claimed conquests in England.
But it was likely a loose alliance of vassal nations that made up Ivar’s empire. It may be said that Ivar was more of an ally than an invader of the Ostergötland nations if the Hogne and Granmar of the Helgi Lays in the older Edda are corrected to be the same rulers in the Ynglingasaga. southern Sweden, Nevertheless, the supposed confederacy fell apart after his death, and chaos ensued until Ivar’s grandson brought the various nations back together again. It was Harald Hilditönn who became the new chieftain of eastern Scandinavia.
Despite living into old age, Harald died in combat, and an upstart monarch took his holdings. All the saga-sources agree that Harald gradually regained his grandfather’s enormous empire. Long remembered by the scalds and chroniclers, this encounter was one of the major wars of early Scandinavian history. The fight in question had a major impact on the allocation of power in Scandinavia; it took place in Bravalla, perhaps near Norrköping in Ostergötland, around the middle of the eighth century.
However, contemporary researchers do not dispute the battle’s historicity, and it is far from simple to determine the protagonists’ personalities or nationalities. Attempts to reconcile the war narratives with the assumed political climate of the period have, in fact, departed significantly from the saga-traditions. But to suggest that Harald Hilditönn was anything other than king of “Greater Denmark”—that is, Denmark and Scania—whose influence stretched via right of conquest over a vast portion of Sweden, maybe even Svitjod itself—is to imply something as absurd as twisted.
Sigurd Hring, his enemy at Bravalla, was very certainly one of several sub-kings who had pledged loyalty to Harald and revolted against him. Several of these areas were under his dominion. Who on earth was Sigurd Hring, though? He was a sub-king in Denmark and a nephew of Harald, according to the thirteenth-century Hervararsaga.
The combined testimony of these sources suggests that the great Bravalla battle marked the secession from the Danish confederacy of one or more northern states that had submitted to Ivar Vidfadmi and Harald Hilditönn. This is without getting into a detailed debate about Sigurd Hring’s country, but it seems safe to assume. You can tell it was fought to determine big problems and that its conclusion must have been a turning-point in Scandinavian history just by reading the lengthy descriptions of the fight and hearing about the large hordes and tremendous heroes who were said to have participated in it.
The states of central Sweden, Västergätland, Östergötland, and Svitjod, which may now be united under Sigurd Hring, were given the freedom to shape their own destiny, grow, and prosper after Harald’s death, ending the Danish supremacy. Eventually, they were able to stand before the world as the united kingdom of Sweden. Gains to Svitjod from this victory cannot be correctly judged, therefore to say that the immediate sequel to Bravalla was the foundation of the modern Swedish state would be a severe overstatement.
It is certain, however, that by the following century the Danes had conquered only the very southern parts of Sweden along with their own lands, and that the former division between the Swedes and the Goths as distinct kingdoms had vanished, with the terms Swedes and Sweden now including the Goths and Götaland.
The formation of the Swedish state in the centuries after the Battle of Bravalla is tragically unrecorded for the sake of this narrative, but we can’t go around the fact that there are so few records from that time that trying to piece together the whole story would be a foolish and fruitless endeavor. Assuming some exceptions in the far south and west, it is safe to assume that the vast majority of what is now Sweden was under the control of a single Swedish monarchy beginning in the seventh century.