The House of the Wolfings

A review of The House of the Wolfings by William Morris

Kiran Fane

My rating 1-5 (5 being the most)

Overall 5

Interest in story 5

Modern sensibility 1

Prose quality 5

Read speed 2

This will be a spoiler-free review, but for those who find deciphering the prose a daunting prospect, there will be a summary of the plot provided at the end of this post to ease your reading experience. Bear in mind that The House of the Wolfings is a prequel to The Roots of the Mountains so don't forget to check out our review on that work via the blog page. Thank you!

If you’ll allow me, I would like to speak for a moment on why I feel it is important for the modern reader to consume works of such literary quality as those of William Morris. It is a grave reality that the writers of today would be discouraged from writing The House of the Wolfings. This and other classic works would be derided in the modern world as “too flowery, too purple” or “unpublishable”. The gradual shift away from maximalist prose to more minimalist writing is, I feel, a natural response in a world so starkly divided between the ‘elite’ and the ‘commoner’. Once perhaps it was true that such ‘learned words’ would be the language of those who hold themselves above their fellows, but I would argue that the opposite has become true. The elites no longer deride a lack of education but, instead, encourage it. They seem almost to celebrate it. I will dare even to say William Morris might have held similar views on the matter and though he likely would have expressed this opinion in far more beautiful ways, I will suffice myself with a somewhat colloquial summary. When the world’s richest man speaks in AI, the conveyance of raw human emotion is resistance. 

In other words, erudition is punk.

The House of the Wolfings is a work, not just of literature, but of art, that one should experience at least once in their life. Though the novel is by no means easy or quick, it is nevertheless a worthwhile read for anyone interested in early fantasy or William Morris’ extensive influence on prominent writers such as J.R.R Tolkien and Oscar Wilde. It is, to me, a shame that the name of William Morris has never been known or spoken of as often as those he inspired. William Morris is best remembered today for his work in the fields of architecture, textile art, or even his contributions to British socialism, but it is his enduring influence on the world of the fantasist that we will discuss. 

Many of Morris’ works are best enjoyed by those with at least some passing familiarity with norse sagas and epics, though it is far from necessary. Morris’ work bears clear signs of research both thoroughly and lovingly. For that reason, I can highly recommend the edition printed by Hyldyr as the book contains short essays about the work as well as a glossary of unusual terms to be found within the text. I also have the rare pleasure of reporting that Morris makes no use of any pejorative terms in his work unless one counts words which have since taken on negative connotations unrelated to the topics discussed in the novel.

Morris’ prose is far and away one of the most notable aspects in The House of the Wolfings. A modern reader will quickly find themselves lost among its “wonts” and “wots”, its “God-homes” and “battle-harvests”. But this is no heedless failure on the part of the author. Instead, when William Morris began writing The House of the Wolfings in imitation of earlier works of chivalric romance, he set himself upon a rigorous, and very intentional, path. This greatly limited the vocabulary available to him, but, by extension, elevated his writing to a level of artistry wholly unfamiliar in our modern age. I would normally speak here about the ways the novel's prose either enhances or detracts from the delivery of story and theme, but it would be impossible to separate Morris’ prose from his message. Put bluntly The House of the Wolfings simply would not be, were it not for its lyrical prose and liberal poetry.

The setting of the Mark is an intriguing one. It would be easy enough to imagine this place existing anywhere along the Danube river but that is merely my own interpretation of the setting and, in truth, the Mark exists as a place woven almost wholly from the imagination of the author. Much like his textile designs, that weaving produces a most beautiful image. Morris describes the Mark with words that can not help but leave one yearning for the rolling hills and green forests of Germany and Austria. The kindreds of the Mark speak of their woodland realm as they would an old friend, at once a provider and one to be protected. It is impossible to read the speeches of the Markmen without feeling their love for the place they call home. Morris' use of real-world Gothonic tribes and locations helps to deepen the world and inspires me to deepen my knowledge of them. It is fascinating to imagine what William Morris would have created had he set out to write about the Wulfings’ conflicts within their own Germanic clans, such as with the Hundings. 

The cast of characters in The House of the Wolfings is perhaps its greatest point of weakness in my eyes. To be sure they are grand characters with richly appointed personalities and voices, but due to the nature of the epics, they can feel somewhat flat in their perfection. Never is Thiodolf greedy, neither for gold or glory, nor does Hall-sun speak in rash anger. In contrast the Roman captain is always arrogant, cowardly, and wrong; though it is worth noting that the Roman soldiers are spoken of as valiant and worthy foes. Such flawless morality and near total baseness can ring to the modern reader as hollow or dull, but never does it feel as if Morris has written those characters without understanding that pitfall. By extension it is Wood-sun, paradoxically the character most allowed her perfection, who strays furthest from this complaint. Her misguided actions are motivated by love and fears that will resonate with any reader who has ever known loss, making her into the novel's most human character, despite her inhuman nature.

It is fascinating to look into the historical accounts which may lie behind Morris’ work and see the personalities of those figures which may potentially have served as inspiration for some of the novel’s leading characters. In Heimskringla, Haakon Haakonsson’s saga we find the voyages of the north Norwegian chief Ohthere, or Ottar. A man whose journey through the wastes of the Biarmians may well have inspired Morris’ description of the nether-mark and his own, oft-mentioned, wastes. Meanwhile another Norwegian chief by the name of Thorolf, the history of whom comes to us via The saga of Egil Skallagrimsson, may well have lent some of himself to the character of Thiodolf. Thorolf, while on a voyage to collect taxes from the Saami people, was noted in particular to have dealt with the Saami “in peace and friendship” while on other occasions it was said that he “put the scare into them.” Two descriptions that one would not have difficulty imagining applied to the War-duke of the Goths.

The simplicity of the plot is also to be lauded when one considers the work's dense prose will likely prove taxing enough on the mind of its reader without adding in unnecessary twists and plots.

I am nearly incapable of providing an objective verdict upon the quality of Morris’ work, but that is only because I find myself so fully in awe of what he achieves in his writing. The prose along with its well-researched setting and emotional impact stand as an accomplishment that deserves no less than my fullest admiration. In one’s own life they will only ever read so many books, invariably that number will never be equal to our desires. I do not feel any compunction against saying that one should ensure that The House of the Wolfings is on that list.

Summary (Warning-contains spoilers)

The House of the Wolfings opens on the kind of rich descriptions one will come to expect from Morris. The first chapter offers a picture of the locale, the kindreds, their markings, and, most importantly, the Hall-Sun and her namesake of the hall of the Wolfings.

The pleasant summer eve is interrupted by the arrival of a minstrel bearing tidings of war and Thiodolf alerts their neighbors. In the night Thiodolf meets with his semi-divine lover, Wood-Sun, and the two share tender words of love and fear for the coming conflict.

Once the tribes gather at the Wolfstead Hall-sun provides a prophetic song of uncertain provenance such that the gathered hosts leave to attend the meeting of the Kindreds with uncertain hearts. Afterward Hall-sun meets Wood-sun, her mother, in disguise and learns about her past.

As the Kindreds travel to the Thingstead, they share what tales they have of the cruelty of the Romans and one man tells of how a young boy foresaw the death of many of those who will march to war.

At the Thingstead itself more tales are told of the Romans and the Kindreds elect two War-dukes to lead their armies in the coming battles, Thiodolf of the Wolfings and Otter of the Laxings.

Along the way the hosts stop among the stead of the Daylings where an elderly man gives Thiodolf an ominous warning about his magical dwarf-wrought hauberk. Later Thiodolf’s host proves victorious against the Romans and the account of his victory is carried to the stay-at-homes of the wolfings.

Hall-sun meanwhile has visions of the Romans conspiring with treacherous Goths and sets watchers along the forest to warn against any Roman advance. Thiodolf’s forces continue their campaign against the Romans while Hall-sun prepares Wolfstead for attack.

Wood-sun goes in disguise to acquire the dwarf-wrought hauberk which she brings to Thiodolf in the night. After sharing their fears once more, Thiodolf agrees to wear the armor and they spend the evening together.

In the morning, Hall-sun receives word from her watchers that the Romans are advancing through the forest. She sends a messenger to Thiodolf who gives a rousing speech and sets off to aid the second of the Kindred hosts being led by Otter.

Otter has been moving cautiously, skirmishing with the Romans to allow the people of Wolfstead time to flee into the forest, but never committing fully to the assault. The Romans burn the hall of the Bearing kindred. When warriors of the Bearing arrive to find their homes burned they convince some of Otter’s men to charge to open war against Otter’s wishes. Fearing the fruitless loss of life, Otter orders all his men to the battle.

By the time Thiodolf arrives he finds Otter’s host is sorely pressed and learns of Otter’s death in the battle. Thiodolf leads his men into battle but falls unconscious as the battle is joined. He regains consciousness when the hauberk is removed but dons it once more before returning to the field. Once more he falls unconscious, this time losing his fabled sword, and the hosts of the Mark are driven back by the Romans.

Thiodolf falls into a depression over his failures and appoints another to lead in his stead. Hall-sun sends message that they should sneak through the woods to the Thingstead where they might join with the forces of the stay-at-homes and ambush the Romans come the morning.

In the night Thiodolf meets one final time with Wood-sun who admits that she made him wear cursed armor that would save his life at the cost of his honor. After sharing tender words she has him remove the armor and they say their final tearful goodbyes.

Thiodolf returns to the host renewed. He orders his men for the coming battle and says his farewells with his daughter, Hall-sun.

The hosts of the Goths slay many Romans who had intended to fall upon the stay-at-homes in the Thingstead before marching upon the Roman captured Wolfstead. The Goths successfully retake the Hall of the Wolfings, preventing the burning of the hall and the captives within, though Thiodolf is slain in the endeavor.

Thiodolf and Otter are honored with a victory feast before being laid to rest having won the peace and prosperity of the peoples of the Mark. Go forth and may you be as joyous as a markmen who has fought hard and won the freedom of his home from the Roman invaders. Although, perhaps without as many corpses at your celebration.