Denmark’s Viking kings
- The International
- 12 hours ago
- 3 min read

Jess Hearne traces Denmark’s evolution from Viking networks to a stable kingdom, showing how power moved from brute force to enduring institutions.
Photograph: Pexels / Andrii Chepelovskyi
Text: Jess Hearne
Before borders and institutions shaped Denmark, it was shaped by movement. Long coastlines, shallow seas and sheltered fjords carried the people, stories and ambitions of the Viking Age from one shore to another. Ships linked Scandinavia to distant regions through trade, warfare and allegiance. Loyalty was personal, owed to leaders rather than a state. Authority rose and fell with reputation and success.
In the tenth and eleventh centuries, a line of Viking kings began to give lasting form to this restless region. Far from merely raiding and ruling, they learned how to turn movement into permanence. By claiming territory, shaping belief and concentrating power, they transformed networks of coasts and routes into a kingdom with history, borders and purpose. What had once been fluid slowly acquired weight, until Denmark could be recognised as a nation with the strength to endure.
Gorm the Old and the weight of the past
The story begins in Jutland with Gorm the Old, a king whose reputation rests as much on stone as on the sword. His legacy looms large at Jelling, where two burial mounds and a runestone still capture the Danish imagination. Gorm ruled in a world where chieftains held sway through kinship and gift-giving; a patchwork of regions bound loosely by custom rather than a united realm.
What Gorm offered was continuity. By raising a runestone, he linked his power to lineage and land. The stone honours his wife Thyra as “Denmark’s adornment”, a phrase that treats Denmark itself as a single entity worthy of praise and protection. Still pagan and rooted in ancestral tradition, Gorm’s realm had begun to imagine itself as a single kingdom rather than a scattering of regions.
Harald Bluetooth and the turning of the tide
Gorm’s son, Harald Bluetooth, was a king caught between worlds. He inherited the old gods but recognised the power of the new faith spreading from the south. His decision to convert to Christianity around 965 AD was both spiritual and strategic, bringing the Viking realm into the orbit of European kingship, literacy and law.
Also at Jelling stands Harald’s runestone, boldly proclaiming that he conquered Denmark and Norway and brought Christianity to the Danes. By naming the land as a whole and placing himself at its centre, Harald turned fragmented loyalties into a single royal authority, recasting conquest and conversion as acts of kingship over a unified realm. Intimidating ring fortresses rose across the country as symbols of a king who could command labour and loyalty on a national scale.
Yet Harald’s reign was a tumultuous one. The new order disrupted longstanding allegiances, and rebellion ensued, led by his own son, Sweyn. Harald died wounded and in exile, but his vision endured. Denmark was now a Christian kingdom with borders, a king and a spot on Europe’s political stage.
Sweyn Forkbeard, Cnut and the sea crown
Sweyn Forkbeard and his son Cnut the Great carried Danish ambition beyond the homeland. Where Harald had consolidated, Sweyn expanded. His campaigns against England were ruthless but calculated, drawing wealth and prestige back to Denmark. The Danegeld payments filled royal coffers and strengthened the monarchy at home.
By 1028, he was the ruler of England, Denmark and Norway, having created a North Sea realm bound by ships and silver. Unlike the raiders of earlier generations, Cnut governed. He issued laws, supported the Church and presented himself as a Christian king among equals. A later story tells of Cnut setting his throne by the shore and ordering the sea to halt, using the inevitable failure of the command to remind his courtiers that even a great king’s power had limits.
Under Cnut’s rule, the country had become a kingdom with a centre, a court and a sense of destiny. When the North Sea empire fractured after Cnut’s death, Denmark remained. The idea of the nation had taken root.
By the time the Viking Age drew to a close, Denmark had borders, a kingship and roots. Power was no longer measured only by what could be taken, but by what could be held and remembered. From Jelling’s monuments to Cnut’s far-reaching authority, Denmark had become a kingdom that could endure beyond the age that gave rise to it.









