In the second half of the 11th century, the Swedish throne was taken by a man whose origins were shrouded in uncertainty and whose methods of rule broke the norms of his time. Stenkil, the first monarch of a new dynasty, had to maneuver between the ambitions of the Church and the loyalty of his subjects to the old gods. His brief reign, lasting just six years, left a deep mark on Scandinavian history.
The Mysterious Road to the Crown
Stenkil’s origins remain a puzzle that historians have not been able to clearly solve. The chronicler Adam of Bremen described him as either the nephew or stepson of the previous king, Emund the Old, while the Icelandic Hervarar Saga claims he was related to the earlier dynasty by marrying Emund’s daughter. The future ruler’s mother, Astrid, is said to have come from Norway’s Hålogaland and to have descended from the legendary Harald Fairhair, which lent Stenkil royal prestige.
It appears that before he claimed the crown, Stenkil was the most powerful noble in Västergötland, a region far from Sweden’s traditional royal power centers around Lake Mälaren.
The chronicle attached to the West Geatish Law mentions that the ruler spent time in Levene and was remembered as one who loved the West Geats more than any other of his subjects. He was also known as an outstanding archer, and the places his arrows struck were shown off with admiration long after his death.
He ascended the throne around 1060, when Emund the Old died childless. The transfer of power happened without visible turmoil, which suggests Stenkil had already built up significant political support. His endorsement of the Bremen mission, offered even during his predecessor’s life, may have won him powerful allies among the clergy and Christianization supporters.
Faith and Politics
Adam of Bremen described Stenkil as a devout and pious monarch, zealous in supporting Christianization. Reality, however, proved far more complicated than straightforward conversion. The king actively worked with bishops from the Hamburg-Bremen archbishopric, and thanks to his envoys, a bishopric was established in Sigtuna, barely a day’s travel from the old pagan center in Uppsala.
Uppsala itself became the stage for a dramatic conflict between Christian fervor and political realism. According to Adam of Bremen, there stood a famous pagan temple where human and animal sacrifices were made every nine years. Bishop Adalvard the Younger suggested to his Scandinavian colleague Egino that they together burn or destroy this temple, hoping such a radical act would force the local population to accept baptism.
Stenkil categorically opposed the plan, displaying unusual political foresight. He warned the bishops that they would be executed and he himself deprived of his throne for bringing into the country men who insulted the ancestral gods. Furthermore, he argued that those baptized would surely revert back to paganism.
The king’s concerns proved justified: his own son, Inge the Elder, was later deposed and exiled for trying to abolish sacrifices in the Uppsala temple. The bishops had to give up and instead focused their zeal on the lands of the Geats, smashing pagan idols and converting thousands.
War with the Norwegians
Stenkil’s reign was also marked by armed conflict with one of the most famous warriors of the Viking Age. Harald Hardrada, King of Norway, had waged years of bitter war with Danish ruler Sweyn Estridsson. When one of Harald’s most powerful vassals, Jarl Håkon, secretly let the defeated Sweyn escape after the Battle of Nissan in 1062, he had to flee for his life from his lord’s wrath.
The fugitive found refuge at Stenkil’s court, who made him jarl of Värmland. According to another version from the Morkinskinna, Håkon first fled to Denmark, then—at Sweyn’s suggestion—took power in Västergötland, from where he would fend off Harald. Håkon was open about his opinion of the Swedish king: although of lower rank, he believed he would be more useful in battle, since Stenkil had grown accustomed to a comfortable life while Håkon himself had been hardened by warfare.
In winter, Harald Hardrada gathered his fleet and invaded Stenkil’s kingdom. His ships sailed up the Göta älv to Lake Vänern, from which he moved east against Håkon’s forces. The Geats resisted under the command of their lawman, Thorvid, but they were less well equipped and fewer in number than the Norwegians. The battle ended in the defenders’ defeat, though Harald failed to capitalize on his victory. On the retreat, his men ran into an ambush and suffered heavy losses, with more being killed by Geatish archers’ arrows along the riverbanks. The following year, Harald died during the infamous invasion of England at Stamford Bridge.
The King’s Legacy
Stenkil died in 1066—the same year as his old enemy Harald Hardrada and Harold, King of England at Hastings. Legend says he was buried in a royal mound near Levene in his beloved Västergötland. His death triggered a violent civil war, likely caused by growing tensions between Christians and adherents of the old faith, which the king had managed to balance.
The image of Stenkil passed down by the sources is full of contradictions. Adam of Bremen saw him as a pious defender of the Church, while Morkinskinna portrayed a burly man with a heavy gait, devoted to feasting and prone to evading difficult matters. The truth likely lay somewhere in between: he was a pragmatist who understood that lasting change required patience, not revolutionary zeal.
The dynasty he established remained on the Swedish throne for generations. His sons, Halsten and Inge the Elder, also became kings. In a letter dated around 1081, Pope Gregory VII expressed hope that they would match their predecessor in virtue and deeds.
Autor
Margot Cleverly
Margot's journey into women's history began with a box of forgotten letters in a Cambridge archive – suffragettes whose voices had been silenced for over a century. Since then, she's been on a mission to uncover the stories history overlooked.
What she writes about: Queens who ruled from the shadows. Scientists whose male colleagues took credit. Revolutionaries who risked everything. But also ordinary women – those who survived wars, raised families through upheaval, and shaped their communities in ways no one bothered to record.
Margot turns historical figures into real people. She writes with warmth and detail, making centuries-old stories feel surprisingly relevant. Rigorous research meets accessible storytelling – no dusty academic jargon, just compelling narratives backed by solid facts.
When she's not writing, you'll find her in regional archives, collecting oral histories, or visiting sites connected to the women she writes about.