The first two decades or so of the eleventh century in Rus’ were a volatile time. Early Russia was nominally Christian. The old pagan idols had been pulled down by Vladimir in accordance with his new marriage to the Byzantine princess Anna and his newfound faith and alliance with Anna’s brother Emperor Basil II.
As in all volatile times when there is an attempt to change a regime and do away with a previous culture, statues and idols were pulled down and churches were built on old Slavic sacred sites. Regime change means culture change. It would be nearly another millennium before Mother Russia would again see an assault on her culture in the form of Soviet Communism which always destroys the cultures it infects.
Yet, while the ruling Rus’ elite had taken on Orthodox Christianity, many in the hinterlands had not and there would still be pockets of paganism lasting even to the sixteenth century in Russia. They would not be suppressed. Even today, Eastern Orthodoxy in Russia and the Ukraine still retain many remnants of old Slavic Paganism and there is now a resurgence of return to the old ways called Rodovery. It is a very nationalistic faith and brings ethnic unity to the Slavic descended people of eastern Europe.
In the early eleventh century there was an uprising of volkhvs against Dobrynya, the Rus posadnik of Novgorod (who also happened to be the uncle of Vladimir the Great) in which they burned his house and killed his wife and family. It was said not to have ended well for the pagan volkhvs. The incident made it into my third book:
Rastislav watched as the last volkhv dropped from the ramparts of Novgorod. Even from this distance, he fancied he could hear the creak of the rope as they contorted in their death throes. Helpless rage constricted his heart, but he kept silent. It had begun to rain early in the morning and now the streets of Novgorod were a quagmire wherever there was not a stretch of planks. The damp smoke of cooking fires mingled with the misty haze.
From The Bone Goddess by G.S. Brown
In fact, in the mid eleventh century, there was a Grand Prince Vseslav of Polotsk, known as a great seer and a sorcerer, who may have been a volkhv. He is depicted on a modern commemorative coin with a wolf running in the background, perhaps an indication that he was said to transform as a werewolf. Indeed, Slavic volkhvs like their Norse counterparts, the volvas, were shamanic in nature and were said to be able to transform to animals or at least inhabit their forms. This may be the origin of the werewolf legend.
Volkhvs were indeed said to be shapeshifters and shamans, the name was cognate to the Norse volvas, who could also change form and both were said to walk the branches of the World Tree, that is, move in other realms and dimensions. They were very powerful and influential in their communities. Earlier Rus’ leaders would have looked to them for advice in leadership. Later rulers (with some exceptions) would have had them suppressed and hunted down, fearing for their influence over the only very nominally Christian Rus’ people.
Málfríðr, mother of Vladimir the Great
The earlier mentioned Dobrynya of Novgorod had a sister known as Malusha or the more Norse name Málfríðr who is also a significant character in my books. Legend tells us she lived to be one hundred years old. After Vladimir married the Christian Anna, Málfríðr was banished from Kiev, but still occasionally summoned from her cave to give prophesy. Could Málfríðr have been a Norse volva or seiðkona? She was said to be the “housekeeper” of Vladimir’s grandmother Olga. She could just as easily have been a seer kept on at the ruling residence to give prophesies and oracles. She is denounced as a “bondswoman” by Rogneda of Polotosk who refused Vladimir’s suit. She said she could never be affianced to Vladimir as he was the “son of a bondswoman”. Málfríðr’s brother and Vladimir’s uncle, Dobrynya took such offence to this that he arranged for the forced marriage and rape of Rogneda and both of her parents and her brothers were killed before her eyes. Was there truth to this claim? Seiðkonas in Norse lore were highly respected women who were not likely to be bondswomen. However, there is always the possibility she entered into a binding contract with Olga and was forced to become her personal seeress. This is mere speculation however and while I always try to base my fictional narratives as closely as possible to the truth available, at times I am forced to stray into conjecture, walking the line between “plausible fiction” and historical accuracy.
There is far too much in the annals of old Russia to explore in the way of folklore and magic for the scope of this blog post, but I hope to delve into other aspects of it at another time.