Among Iceland’s medieval romance sagas, Flóres saga konungs (svarta) ok sona hans stands out for its mix of adventure, mistaken identities and unexpected family reunion. Written in Iceland in the late fourteenth century, this saga reflects the fascination of Icelandic writers with foreign courts, far-travelling adventure and intricate family ties.
A saga of abduction, loss and rediscovery
The core of the saga centres on King Flóres of Traktía, who abducts Princess Elína of Kartagía. Their union, marked by violence and longing, results in the birth of three sons. But as often in medieval narratives, the happiness is short-lived: while Flóres is away, Elína and her children are retrieved by her own father. Their ship vanishes at sea, and news of the disappearance leads Flóres to believe his family is dead. Life continues, and Flóres eventually remarries.
Tragedy, however, takes a strange turn, following the conventional patterns of medieval romances where coincidence paves the way to dramatic revelation. Flóres’ second marriage brings a daughter, whose future becomes the focus when Duke Sintram proposes to her. Flóres refuses the match, which sparks a war. Yet the irony deepens: among Sintram’s forces are the lost sons of Flóres, now grown, who do not yet know their father. The conflict ends with the sons’ capture and sentencing to death.
On the night before their execution, the sons share their stories. King Flóres overhears and realises the truth of their lineage. Reconciliation follows, and the family, separated by fate and sea, is finally reunited.
Survival in manuscripts and Icelandic literary culture
The saga’s story of loss and reunion has enabled it to survive for centuries, preserved in a remarkable range of manuscripts. Copies of Flóres saga konungs (svarta) ok sona hans can be found in libraries in Iceland and across Europe, with existing examples dating from the fifteenth to the early twentieth centuries. Manuscripts are held at the Arnamagnæan Institute in Copenhagen, the British Library, and the National Library in Reykjavik, among many others. Each manuscript reflects the ongoing appetite among Icelandic scribes and readers for captivating tales of romance, adventure and moral complication.
The appeal of such sagas in Icelandic tradition is not just literary. Stories like this one mirror the complexities and uncertainties of life in a land where sea journeys could end in disappearance, where family bonds were crucial, and where chance encounters might change destinies. The saga’s preservation in so many versions is a testament to both its popularity and the enduring role of storytelling in Iceland’s cultural identity.
