The Cult
No cult of Sigurðr is attested — no sanctuary, no festival day, no priesthood, no votive bearing his name — and the record should be allowed to say so plainly. What the North gave its greatest hero was not worship but commemoration. His deeds were carved on memorial stones — Ramsund (Sö 101), Gök (Sö 327), Drävle (U 1163) and the Manx crosses — where the named dead of ordinary families set their grief beside his; his story was danced and sung in the Faroese Sjúrðar kvæði centuries after the last saga copy; and his name was given to kings, beginning with Sigurðr Haraldsson in the tenth century and running down to Sigurðr Jórsalafari — the closest thing Germanic heroic tradition has to canonization. The name itself is common on Viking-Age runestones, worn by farmers with no heroic claim. Modern heathen practice that hails him at sumbel follows the commemorative, not the cultic, line: a model toasted, not a god placated.


