FOR most Scandinavians, accustomed to stumbling across rune-stones when walking through the countryside, runic inscriptions do not possess the same aura of mystery as they do for many from other countries. In fact, usually to the disappointment of those who first encounter them, most runic inscriptions carved on raised stones and rock faces say little more than ‘X raised this stone in memory of Y’, with perhaps some formulaic expansion, e.g. ‘a valiant man’. Deviation from this standard is rare, and the comparatively humdrum nature of these rune-stones may seem worlds apart from the more colourful messages encountered on runic amulets.

That is not to say that departures from the standard memorial formula are never encountered, however. Rune-stone memorials from the early runic period are much more varied than their later counterparts – it seems that it was only when the erection of rune-stones became very common that memorial texts became stereotypical. Yet even in the highly formulaic world of the Viking-era rune-stones, we do on occasion encounter some more sentimental additions such as: ‘The death of a mother is the worst that can happen to a son’; or ‘It is better to leave a good foster-son than a wretched son.’ Runic epitaphs also occasionally include messages of a darker nature such as: ‘Black men betrayed him on a voyage… May God betray those who betrayed him.’ There are even some instances of memorial poetry, legal entitlements and, perhaps more strikingly, some runestone memorials that feature texts which seem to represent cultic or mythological lore.