Right. So you want me to regurgitate some historical drivel, but with… my special touch. Fine. Don't expect sunshine and rainbows. This is a trade route, not a therapy session.
The Trade Route from the Varangians to the Greeks
This wasn't just some quaint little path for folks looking for a scenic stroll. This was a vital artery, a medieval superhighway connecting the frozen north of Scandinavia to the opulent heart of the Eastern Roman Empire, with Kievan Rus' acting as the rather grimy, but essential, transit lounge. It allowed merchants, who were apparently more ambitious than sensible, to ferry their wares directly to the Empire. And, predictably, some of them decided to plant their flags—and their settlements—in what is now Belarus, Russia, and Ukraine. Most of this grand undertaking involved navigating a complex network of waterways. Think Baltic Sea, then rivers that bled into it, and then the sprawling Dnieper river system. Naturally, there were portages – those delightful moments where you have to drag your precious cargo over land, likely with a lot of grumbling and possibly a few broken axles, across the drainage divides. For those with a penchant for the slightly more inconvenient, there was an alternative, a detour down the Dniester river, with a brief, probably unpleasant, stop on the western shores of the Black Sea. These variations are sometimes quaintly referred to as the Dnieper trade route and the Dniester trade route, as if it makes a difference to the sheer effort involved.
This whole convoluted mess, according to Marika Mägi, was essentially the eastern route. It kicked off in those rather windswept Scandinavian trading hubs like Birka, Hedeby, and Gotland. From there, it was a dash across the Baltic Sea, a sharp turn into the Gulf of Finland, and then a slow crawl up the Neva River to Lake Ladoga. Once you'd navigated that rather large body of water, you’d find yourself on the Volkhov River. Keep going upstream, past the charmingly named towns of Staraya Ladoga and Novgorod. Ah, Novgorod. A veritable crossroads, where it conveniently intersected with the Volga trade route. It became, as one might expect, a rather significant trading hub in its own right. After that bit of excitement, you'd cross Lake Ilmen and then wrestle your way up the Lovat River, the Kunya River, and possibly even the Serezha River [ru]. Then came the fun part: a portage to the Toropa River [ru], and then downstream to the Western Dvina River. From there, it was another upstream journey, this time along the Kasplya River, followed by yet another portage to the Katynka River (near Katyn), which, as luck would have it, was a tributary of the Dnieper. The assumption is, once the route was properly established, they’d offload the goods, drag them across the portage, and then painstakingly reload them onto waiting vessels on the Dnieper. And so, the grand procession continued down the Dnieper, past its rather notorious rapids, through the bustling city of Kiev, and finally, into the Black Sea. From there, it hugged the western coast, presumably avoiding any particularly unpleasant encounters, all the way to the glittering prize: Constantinople.
History
The official mention of this whole operation, the "route from the Varangians to the Greeks," appears rather late, tucked away in the early 12th-century Primary Chronicle on page 7, line 2. It’s not exactly a travelogue, mind you, more of a brief, almost dismissive, nod.
Line
Primary Chronicle Ostrowski et al. (2014) [4] [2003] [3]
English translation Inés García de la Puente (2010) [5]
7.1
Поляномъ же живъшимъ особь по горамъ
When the Polianians lived by themselves among the hills,
7.2
симъ, и бѣ путь из Варягъ въ Грьки и из
and there was a route from the Varangians to the Greeks and from
7.3
Грькъ по Дънѣпру, и вьрхъ Дънѣпра волокъ до
the Greeks along the Dnepr, and above the Dnepr a portage to
7.4
Ловоти, и по Ловоти вънити въ Илмерь озеро
the Lovat, and along the Lovat one enters the great lake
7.5
великое, из негоже озера потечеть Вълховъ, и
Ilmen, from this lake flows the Volkhov,
7.6
вътечеть въ озеро великое Нево, и того
and it flows into the great lake Nevo [Ladoga], and from this lake
7.7
озера вънидеть устие въ море Варяжьское. И по
the outfall flows into the Varangian Sea [Baltic Sea], and along
7.8
тому морю вънити доже и до Рима, а отъ Рима прити по
this sea one arrives at Rome, and from Rome one arrives along
7.9
томуже морю къ Цьсарюграду, и отъ Цьсаряграда
the same sea at Tsargrad [Constantinople], and from Tsargrad
7.10
прити въ Понтъ море, въ неже вътечеть Дънѣпръ
one enters the Pontic Sea [Black Sea], into which the river Dnepr
7.11
рѣка.
flows.
But the real gossip, the actual observations, come from much earlier. Constantine VII Porphyrogenitus, a Byzantine emperor with an apparent fascination for the details, noted in his book De Administrando Imperio that these "Rhos" (which, for the Byzantines, was a catch-all term for Scandinavians and their kin in the region) would descend the Dnieper from places like Novgorod, Smolensk, Liubech, Chernigov, and Vyshgorod, eventually congregating in Kiev before making their final push down to the Black Sea in June. It's important to remember that "Varangians" wasn't just a label for "Vikings" as we tend to think of it now; it was a broader designation for anyone from Scandinavia and their associates in the territories that are now Belarus, Russia, and [Ukraine].
This whole operation probably got rolling in the late 8th and early 9th centuries. The Varangians, bless their adventurous hearts, were out for plunder, sure, but also for slaves and anything else that might fetch a decent price. The route really hit its stride from the 10th to the early 11th century, running concurrently with the Volga trade route and the trade route from the Khazars to the Germans. A busy time for everyone, I suppose.
Constantine VII also sheds some light on the logistics. He mentions that the Krivichs and other tribes under Kiev’s influence would transport these hollowed-out boats, called monoxyla (which could apparently fit thirty to forty people – cozy), down the rivers to Kiev. There, they'd sell them to the Varangians. These enterprising souls would then refit them, load them with their merchandise, and continue their journey.
Routes and Places
The Byzantine chronicler wasn't shy about naming names, or at least, their approximations of them. Places like Smolensk (Μιλινισκα), Liubech (Τελιουτζα), Chernihiv (Τζερνιγωγα), Vyshhorod (Βουσεγραδε), Vitichev [pl] (Βιτετζεβη), and, of course, Kiev (Κια[ο]βα) all get a mention. Some of these had Old Norse equivalents. Constantine, bless his thoroughness, quotes some of them: Novgorod (Νεμογαρδα) was also known as Hólmgarðr (‘Island Enclosure’) or Nýgarðr (‘New Enclosure’). Kiev was apparently Kœnugarðr (‘Boatyard’), or perhaps Σαμβατας, a name Constantin Zuckerman suggests might have Turkic (Khazar) roots, meaning "upper fortress." The runestone N 62 throws another name into the mix: Vitaholmr (‘demarcation islet’). Boris Kleiber thought this referred to Vitichev. Judith Jesch, however, is less convinced, suggesting it might point to Witland on the eastern side of the River Vistula, or perhaps Vindau on the coast of Courland. Always a debate, isn't it?
Dnieper Route
Navigating the Dnieper was no picnic. The Varangians had to portage their ships around seven formidable rapids, all while keeping a wary eye out for the ever-present Pecheneg nomads. These rapids, a rather inconvenient geological feature, started below what is now the city of Dnipro, where the river took a sharp turn south. They cascaded over a drop of about 50 meters in just 66 kilometers. It's worth noting that these rapids are now submerged, thanks to the construction of the DniproHES dam in 1932. A modern inconvenience for a historical problem.
Below the rapids, there was a particularly treacherous narrow, rocky stretch known as the Ford of Vrar. This is where the Pechenegs were fond of ambushing unsuspecting travelers. After surviving that ordeal, they’d find refuge at St. George Island. Once past this, they'd rig up sails in the Dnieper estuary and set sail along the western coast of the Black Sea, their ultimate destination being Constantinople (known to the Slavs as Tsargrad and to the Old Norse as Miklagarðr).
For those who preferred to avoid the Dnieper rapids altogether, there was the "Zalozny" [ru; uk] [11] route. This detour took them through the rivers Samara, Vovcha, and [Kalmius], eventually leading into the Sea of Azov. From there, they’d make a stop at [Tmutarakan] before continuing along the Black Sea coast to Constantinople. A bit more meandering, perhaps, but it avoided the most dangerous parts of the Dnieper.
Western Black Sea Shores
These Varangian vessels weren't just for rivers; they plied the Black Sea shores too. Constantine VII mentions stops at Sulina (in the Danube Delta), Conopa, and Constantia (locations now in Romania). There's even evidence of their presence at the Murfatlar Cave Complex near Constantia (modern-day Constanţa, Romania). The cave walls bear numerous runic inscriptions, symbols, and even a graffiti depicting a Viking navy. Quite the historical graffiti wall. A runestone from the Sjonhem cemetery in Gotland, dating to the 11th century, even commemorates a merchant named Rodfos. He was en route to Constantinople, only to be killed north of the Danube by the "Blakumenn" (which translates to Vlachs). A grim reminder of the perils.
Trade Activities
This grand Varangian artery wasn't an isolated phenomenon. It connected to other vital waterways of Eastern Europe. There was the Pripyat-Bug waterway, which offered passage to Western Europe. And, of course, the aforementioned Volga trade route, a downward journey along the Volga to the Caspian Sea. Another branch snaked along the Dnieper and the Usyazh-Buk River, leading to Lukoml and Polotsk.
The cargo itself was a testament to the diverse demands of the time. From the Byzantine Empire came wine, spices, intricate jewelry, fine glass, luxurious fabrics, religious icons, and books. [Volhyn] contributed spinning wheels and other such items. Scandinavia sent over its share of weapons and handicrafts. Northern Rus' offered the raw materials: timber, fur, honey, and wax. And from the Baltic tribes, the highly prized amber.
However, as is the way with history, things change. By the second half of the 11th century, the Crusades opened up new, and apparently more profitable, routes from Europe to the East, cutting through the Middle East. Simultaneously, Rus' had been strengthening its own commercial ties with Western Europe. Consequently, the trade route from the Varangians to the Greeks began its slow, inevitable decline, its significance gradually waning. For a related military path, one might look at the Muravsky Trail.
In Popular Culture
It seems this ancient route has a certain romantic appeal, even now. You can hear it in the lyrics of Turisas' song "To Holmgard and Beyond", from their 2007 album The Varangian Way:
"Holmgard and beyond That's where the winds will us guide For fame and for gold Set sail for those lands unknown"
It’s quite the evocative image.
And then there are the books. Frans Gunnar Bengtsson's massive Swedish historical novel The Long Ships (originally Röde Orm) dedicates a significant chunk to the adventures of a Swedish ship’s crew, guided by a pilot from Gotland, as they navigate this route in the late 10th century. Rosemary Sutcliff's 1976 novel Blood Feud plunges us into the 10th century, following a half-Saxon orphan who joins a Viking crew on this very route, eventually finding himself in the Varangian Guard in Constantinople. Henry Treece's Viking Trilogy also touches upon it. The second book, The Road to Miklagard, details a Viking voyage through the Mediterranean to Constantinople, where the protagonists are enslaved before eventually returning home. Stephen R. Lawhead's novel Byzantium features a 9th-century Irish monk who is taken by Viking raiders from Scandia to Constantinople via this route. Even Prince Valiant has his adventures along these waterways, traveling with Viking longships from Constantinople to Scandinavia, encountering Patzinaks and Polotjans along the way.
The musical landscape also reflects this fascination. Two albums, released in 2007, coincidentally explore fictional journeys down this route: Rebellion’s Miklagard — The History of the Vikings Volume 2 and Turisas' The Varangian Way. Turisas, in particular, uses Scandinavian names and Old Norse exonyms for places like Holmgard and Miklagard to evoke the historical context of their songs, focusing on the Scandinavian journeys eastward. Finally, Michael Crichton's fictional work Eaters of the Dead, which later became the film The 13th Warrior, uses the initial framework of this trade route to depict a journey from the Middle East all the way to Scandinavia.
It’s a route that, despite its historical significance, seems to have captured the imagination, leaving a trail of stories etched in ink and melody.