Showing posts with label Anglo-Saxons. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Anglo-Saxons. Show all posts

Tuesday, March 18, 2025

Historical Epic Unveiled: The Briton and the Dane by Mary Ann Bernal. Narrated by Sebastian Lockwood.


Author: Mary Ann Bernal

Narrator: Sebastian Lockwood

Series: The Briton and the Dane, Book 1

Length:11 hrs and 30 mins

Release Date: August 21, 2014

Language: English

 A lurking shadow. A whispered secret. A veiled betrayal.

In a realm shadowed by the looming threat of Norse conquest, a young woman finds herself the linchpin in a perilous game of dominion. Her capture, far from being a mere twist of fate, casts her into the depths of a world rife with cunning and treachery. Amidst the echoes of a hundred scheming voices, truth becomes a chameleon, shifting its hues with each whispered plot. As the specter of the Norse menace draws ever nearer, she must navigate through a sea of deceit where allies are indistinguishable from foes. In this maelstrom of betrayal, her heart aches for the love of a prince from the ranks of her kingdom’s adversaries—a love that stands as her sole beacon amidst the encroaching darkness of war.

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Monday, April 2, 2018

The Langeid Viking Battle Axe and a Warrior Who Singlehandedly Held Off the Entire English Army


Ancient Origins


BY THORNEWS

Contrary to what many believe, battle axes from the last part of the Viking age, i.e. the 11th century, had evolved to become light, streamlined, and well-balanced. At the same time, they were powerful lethal weapons, something the recently reconstructed broad axe from Langeid in Southern Norway confirms.

The Viking warrior was well-equipped and trained to use a variety of weapons, but it was undoubtedly the battle axes that created most “shock and awe” among the enemy. Now, the unique weapon found at Langeid in 2011 is recreated, and it confirms that a thousand-year-old rumor is true: Facing a well-trained Norseman with a broad axe was like looking death straight in the eyes.


Viking warrior. (Mark Hooper/CC BY NC SA 2.0)

The Remarkable Grave 8
During archaeological excavations in 2011, several dozen flat graves dating back to the last part of the Viking Age were discovered at Langeid in the Setesdal valley, Southern Norway. The archaeologists found a wooden coffin, but it turned out to be almost empty. However, on the outside they discovered an ornate sword and a battle axe.

The blade was relatively intact, including the toe and heel of the cutting edge. Remarkably, a 15-centimeter (5.91-inch) long wooden stump of the haft was preserved. A band of brass, a metal alloy made of copper and zinc, encircling the stump had preserved the handle due to the antimicrobial properties. X-ray fluorescence analysis confirmed that the band was made of brass, something that made the axe “shine like gold” in the sunlight.

Second Quarter of the 11th Century
The Langeid axe head has a cutting edge of about 25 centimeters (9.84 inches), an original weight of about 800 grams (28.22 ounces) and is clearly two-handed. The haft measured about 110 centimeters (43.31 inches), based upon a few archaeological findings and contemporary illustrations.


According to the archaeologists, the original haft measured about 110 centimeters. (Museum of Cultural History, University of Oslo)

The Museum of Cultural History at the University in Oslo only holds six axes of this type – broad axes with brass haft banding.

The Norwegian archaeologist Jan Petersen categorized broad axes as type M in his typology of weapons, appearing from the second half of the 10th century until the Middle Ages.

The Langeid axe has been dated back to the second quarter of the 11th century, which coincides in time with the Battle of Stamford Bridge and perhaps history’s most famous axe warrior.



‘The Battle of Stamford Bridge’ (1870) by Peter Nicolas Arbo. (Public Domain)

The Ultimate Viking Warrior
On 25 September 1066, the battle symbolizing the end of the Viking Age took place at the village of Stamford Bridge, East Riding of Yorkshire, in England. The battle was fought between an English army led by King Harold Godwinson and an invading Norwegian force led by King Harald Sigurdsson “Hardrada” (Old Norse: harðráði, “hard ruler”) and Earl Tostig Godwinson, the English king’s brother.

Historians believe the Norwegian army was divided in two, with some troops on the west side of the River Derwent, and the majority of the army on the east side. The English army caught the Norwegians by surprise and the Norsemen on the west side were either killed or forced to flee across the bridge.

An Anglo-Saxon Chronicle tells that a giant Norse axe warrior blocked the narrow crossing and single-handedly held up the entire English army.


Viking warrior with an axe. (Lamin Illustration & Design)

The story is that the Viking cut down as many as 40 English soldiers and was only defeated when an enemy soldier floated under the bridge in a half-barrel and pushed his spear through the planks, mortally wounding the Norseman.

 It is not unlikely that the warrior was armed with an axe almost identical with the one found at Langeid in Southern Norway.




The blacksmiths: Vegard Vike and Anders Helseth Nilsson. (Bjarte Aarseth, Museum of Cultural History, University of Oslo)

Recently, the impressive Viking axe was reconstructed. You will find detailed information about the project with many photos and videos here.

Top Image: The Langeid Viking Battle Axe: The original and the copy. Source: Vegard Vike, Museum of Cultural History, University of Oslo

The article, originally titled ‘The Langeid Viking Battle Axe’ by Thor Lanesskog, was originally published on ThorNews and has been republished with permission.

Tuesday, March 6, 2018

The Great Heathen Army: Viking Coalition Becomes an Anglo-Saxon Nightmare

Ancient Origins


 Viking raids may have been a common factor in the life of a 9th century Anglo Saxon, but there was something terrifyingly distinct when an army emerged seeking revenge.

 The Great Heathen Army would do whatever it took to see the Anglo Saxons fall. The Great Heathen Army (known also as the Great Viking Army, or the Great Danish Army) is the name given by the Anglo-Saxons to a coalition of Viking warriors that invaded England during the 9th century AD. The main source of information regarding the Great Heathen Army comes from the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, which is a collection of Old English annals chronicling the history of the Anglo-Saxons. Some information about this army is also in an Old Norse saga known as the Tale of Ragnar’s Sons. Furthermore, archaeology has helped to shed some light on this Viking coalition. Nevertheless, there are many more questions about the Great Heathen Army that have yet to be answered.


Viking army in battle. (Public Domain)

 Accounts of the Great Heathen Army
According to the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, the Great Heathen Army landed in 866 AD in East Anglia, “A.D. 866. …; and the same year came a large heathen army into England, and fixed their winter-quarters in East-Anglia,” During this time, England was divided between four petty kingdoms – East Anglia, Mercia, Northumbria, and Wessex. Faced with such a fragmented foe, the Great Heathen Army was quite successful in their campaigns and succeeded in overrunning much of the country.


Derby Museum Viking Sword found in Repton. (Roger/CC BY SA 2.0)

 The chronicle does not mention the reason for this invasion, perhaps due to the fact that Viking raids were fairly common during that period of time. The Tale of Ragnar’s Sons, on the other hand, mentions that the invasion of England by the Great Heathen Army was aimed at avenging the death of Ragnar Lodbrok, a legendary Viking ruler of Sweden and Denmark. In the Viking saga, Ragnar is said to have conducted a raid on Northumbria during the reign of King Ælla. The Vikings, however, were defeated, and Ragnar was captured by the Northumbrians. Ælla then had Ragnar executed by throwing him into a pit of poisonous snakes. When the sons of Ragnar received news of their father’s death, they decided to avenge him.


Depiction of Ælla of Northumbria's murder on Ragnar Lodbrok (1830) by Hugo Hamilton. (Public Domain)

As is already evident, the military campaign against the Anglo-Saxon kingdoms by the Great Heathen army is treated differently by the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle and the Tale of Ragnar’s Sons, and this difference continues as the story does. In the latter, for instance, much focus in placed on Ivar the Boneless, one of Ragnar’s sons. According to the saga, Ivar founded the town of Jórvík, today known as York, and by forming alliances with the neighboring Anglo-Saxons, built up his military strength. Eventually, Ivar invited his brothers to join him in his attack on Ælla. The Northumbrian king was defeated, and the blood eagle was carved from him. Ivar went on to rule over Northumbria until his death.


Ivar the Boneless as portrayed in the History Channel Series ‘Vikings.’ ( History Channel )

A different story is told in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. For instance, the chronicle makes no mention of Ælla’s execution by the blood eagle. Instead, he is recorded to have fallen in a battle against the Great Heathen Army at York. Additionally, tis work focuses on the actions of the Great Heathen Army in a chronological order. For example, in 868 AD, the Great Heathen Army attacked Mercia, and the king sought aid from Wessex to defend his kingdom. The Anglo-Saxon coalition besieged the Vikings in Nottingham. As there was no clear victor, however, the Mercians decided to make peace with the Vikings. In the following year, the Great Heathen Army is recorded to have returned to Jórvík and rested for a year.


King Ælla as he is portrayed in the television series ‘Vikings.’ (CC BY SA)

Questions Remain on the Great Heathen Army
In spite of the available written sources, there are numerous questions about the Great Heathen Army that are still left unanswered. For instance, neither the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle nor the Tale of Ragnar’s Sons mentions the size of the Great Heathen Army. The goal of this army is also another question open to debate. Although the Tale of Ragnar’s Sons provides the reason for the invasion of England, the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle does not. Instead, it seems to be treated as another Viking raid, albeit one that was on a much larger scale than usual

Archaeology has been able to shed some light on the mysterious Great Heathen Army. For instance, a 2016 article published in The Antiquaries Journal presents the results of a project concerning the Great Heathen Army. This project revealed the location, extent, and character of the Great Heathen Army’s winter camp at Torksey, Lincolnshire (872/873 AD).

Additionally, it was reported recently that a mass grave from Derbyshire may contain the remains of some of the warriors in the Great Heathen Army. Such archaeological research has the potential to provide valuable information about the Great Heathen Army and may complement the already available written records.


Battered and broken bodies of Viking warriors unearthed in Derbyshire, England, now identified as soldiers of the Viking Great Army. (Martin Biddle / University of Bristol )

 Top image: The Great Heathen Army. Source: CC BY SA

By Wu Mingren

Saturday, February 17, 2018

Discovered: Thor's Shattered Viking Army and their Sacred Hammer of the Gods


Ancient Origins


The mysterious origins of almost 300 violently broken bodies discovered in a mass grave in Derbyshire, England, are “the Viking Great Army!”, announced archeologist Cat Jarman this week.

 Jarman is Head of the Department of Anthropology and Archaeology at the The University of Bristol and she explained that the initial dating of the skeletons discovered in the 80s found them to “span several centuries”. However, Jarman doubted this dating because “the previous radiocarbon dates from this site were all affected by something called marine reservoir effects, which is what made them seem too old.” Basically, the carbon in fish is much older than in terrestrial foods and this confused the radiocarbon dating tests. When this error was accounted for, says Jarman, the bodies all date to the 9th century.

Land-Hungry Warriors
Known to the Anglo-Saxons as ‘The Great Heathen Army’, these land-hungry warriors formed a united army from Norway, Denmark and Sweden. They invaded the four kingdoms of England in 865AD and according to Historian Thomas Charles-Edwards in his bestselling 2013 book Wales and the Britons 350–1064 “having taken East Anglia and then York the following year, they were paid to leave Wessex by Alfred the Great and marched on Northumbria and London.” They reached Mercia by 873AD and spent winter at Repton, where they dethroned King Burgred and installed Cleowulf as ruler of the kingdom.


Viking army in battle (public domain)

This Was No Ordinary Burial
This week’s University of Bristol report informs that “80 percent of the remains were men, mostly aged 18 to 45, with several showing signs of violent injury.” Strewn among the Viking skeletons were “axes, knives and five silver pennies dating to the period 872-875 AD.” And, among the bodies four children aged between eight and 18 years old were discovered “in a single grave with traumatic injuries.” Archaeologist Cat Jarman said of these burial irregularities “The grave is very unusual…they are also placed in unusual positions - two of them back-to-back - and they have a sheep jaw placed at their feet. All these obscurities suggest human sacrifice formed part of Viking funeral rites


One of the female skulls excavated from the Repton burial site. Credit: Cat Jarman / University of Bristol

A National Geographic article this week detailed the contents of another double grave containing two men, the older of whom was buried with a “Thor’s hammer pendant and a Viking sword and had received numerous fatal injuries including a large cut to his left femur.” Furthermore, a boar’s tusk had been “placed between his legs, and it has been suggested that the injury may have severed his penis or testicles, and the tusk positioned to replace what he had lost in preparation for the afterworld.”

Thor’s Hammer Pendant May Settle Long-Standing Debate
Rightly, this week’s headlines are focusing on the discovery of one of the most successful forces to have ever invaded Britain. However, to me, the presence of a “Thor’s Hammer pendant” stands sentinel above all other discoveries. Outshines the lot! This truly is a Norse cultural treasure and its discovery, among Norse warriors, settles a long-standing archeological debate.


Example of a Viking Thor’s hammer pendant (Swedish History Museum / flickr)

Fist-size stone tools resembling the Norse god Thor's Hammer are known as “thunderstones” and are found in Viking graves in Norway. While one faction of specialists hold that Viking warriors worshiped Thor with grave deposits, others argue that thunderstones actually belonged to earlier, lower burials, and get accidentally unearthed in Viking graves. To settle this debate, Archaeologist Eva Thäte of the University of Chester in the U.K., with fellow archaeologist Olle Hemdorff excavated hundreds of Viking graves in Scandinavia and trawled through thousands of grave deposits. They found “ten Viking burials containing thunderstones up to 5,000 years older than the graves themselves” indicating Vikings reused prehistoric stone hammers as talismans and good luck charms to assist them in the afterlife.

But even with this data, many archeologists still maintain Thor’s Hammers are accidental finds. This Thor’s Hammer debate was highlighted in a 2010 in a National Geographic feature which claimed it was generally “accepted that they (thunderstones) were actually purposely placed by Vikings in graves as good-luck talismans,” but there are still skeptics out there. This week’s announcement, that the skeletons belong to the “Great Viking Army” married with the fact that a “Thor’s Hammer pendant” was discovered, is the smoking gun - the hard evidence that Viking warriors did indeed worship Thor, and “Thor’s Hammers” were used in burial rites.

There are two things skeptics have to accept here. Neolithic people in England were not wearing Thor’s Hammer pendants, so it did not belong to an earlier, lower grave, and did not get “accidentally” dug up. And finally, deceased Viking warriors were stripped naked and buried with carefully chosen items, to help them in the afterlife, so the pendant was a deliberate placement within the Viking warrior grave. The pendant suggests that 9th century England was taken by a band of merciless warriors under the command of their ancient god of thunder and war - Thor. That accepted, I wonder what the battle cry of Thor’s Army sounded like? Thunderous I’d imagine.

Top image: Battered and broken bodies of Viking warriors unearthed in Derbyshire, England, now identified as soldiers of the Viking Great Army. Credit: Martin Biddle / University of Bristol

By Ashley Cowie

Wales and the Britons, 350-1064 (History of Wales) Hardcover – 1 Feb 2013 by T. M. Charles-Edwards. OUP Oxford (1 Feb. 2013)

Sunday, November 12, 2017

If King Alfred was great, was Æthelstan even greater?


History Extra


Æthelstan is shown dressed as a pilgrim with Guy of Warwick in a scene from the 14th-century 'Chronicle of England'. (Bridgeman)

Was King Alfred (reigned 871–99) really the greatest Anglo-Saxon king? Certainly he remains the best-remembered – even if it’s only for burning the cakes. But should it really be his grandson Æthelstan (reigned 924–39) – now largely forgotten – whom we celebrate as the most significant pre-Conquest monarch?

Alfred was a highly successful military leader who, in a battle at Edington in 878, resoundingly defeated the Danish army that had almost conquered Wessex. In the ensuing period of peace he launched a programme of educational reform that transformed the use of English as both a literary and a governmental language. Yet Alfred only ruled the West Saxon people, and those in the western part of the Midland kingdom of Mercia not under subjection to the Danes. When he died (the sole remaining native king in England), the east Midlands, East Anglia and Northumbria all lay in Danish hands.

Æthelstan, on the other hand, was the first king to rule all England and laid claim to an imperial overlordship over the whole of Britain. His military prowess brought him direct authority over not just Wessex and Mercia, but the Danelaw (the name given to the area of northern England where Vikings settled) and the kingdom north of the Humber. Celtic rulers from elsewhere in the British Isles subsequently submitted to his authority. He crushed a rebellion of the Scots king in 934, attacking his realm with a land and sea force and ravaging as far north as Caithness. When Æthelstan defeated a combined Norse-Scots-Northumbrian force at the battle of Brunanburh in 937, a contemporary poem entered into the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle recalled: “Never yet in this island before this was a greater slaughter of a host made by the edge of the sword since the Angles and Saxons came hither from the east, overcame the Britons and won a country.”


The tomb of King Æthelstan in Malmesbury Abbey. (Alamy)

 Foreigners also recognised Æthelstan’s status. He played a significant role on a European stage, forging alliances with royal and ducal houses across the territories of the former Carolingian empire through marriage and fostering arrangements. Scholars from Britain and abroad flocked to his court, bringing books, precious gifts and the relics of the saints (to which Æthelstan showed particular devotion). Alfred founded a dynasty. Æthelstan (who died childless) paved the way for that royal line (through his brothers and nephews) to govern all the English peoples via an effective administrative machine. When he died, an Irish chronicler lamented the demise of the “pillar of the dignity of the western world”. How can so great a king, once celebrated for his achievements, have fallen into such oblivion today?

Alfred’s posthumous reputation received a substantial boost from the profusion of literature that emanated from his court in the latter years of his reign – including the first version of the collection of year-by-year accounts of early English history we know as the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle.


The statue of King Alfred the Great in Wantage, Oxfordshire. Alfred may widely be regarded as the father of the English nation, yet Æthelstan was the first to unite the English people under a single authority and proclaim himself "king of all Britain". (Alamy)

One of his circle, the Welsh priest Asser, also wrote a life of the king in the 890s, giving an unparalleled insight into his personality, his devotion to the saints, his practical and creative abilities and his attitudes to kingship. Texts translated from Latin into English at his court also included passages attributed to the king himself.

By contrast, the reign of Æthelstan is ill-served with narrative sources; the Chronicle offers the sketchiest narrative of events in his reign, there is no surviving biography, nor any writing attributed to his own authorship. Creating a picture of him as a man as well as a royal figurehead involves piecing together information from a disparate range of sources (and a good deal of imaginative licence).

Even so, after his death, Æthelstan enjoyed considerable fame. The West Saxon Latin chronicler Æthelweard saw Æthelstan as a mighty king and drew attention to his victory at Brunanburh (still remembered in the late tenth century as the ‘Great Battle’). Æthelstan’s submission of the Scots and the Picts brought significant and lasting consequences: “The fields of Britain were consolidated into one, there was peace everywhere and abundance of all things, and [since then] no fleet has remained here having advanced against these shores, except under treaty with the English.”

Æthelred the Unready (reigned 978–1016) called his eldest son Æthelstan – and worked through various Old English royal names before he thought to name his eighth son Alfred.

A king to remember
After the Conquest, Æthelstan’s reputation remained strong. To Anglo-Norman writers, he stood out as the founder of a united English realm, and – perhaps more significantly in that era – as having successfully asserted his authority over his Celtic neighbours. William, a monk of Malmesbury Abbey where Æthelstan was buried, paid him particular attention, providing insights not found in any other source, possibly drawing on a now-lost tenth-century life of the king. In William’s hands, Æthelstan became not just a king to remember but one about whom there were many stories, even popular songs worth recalling and repeating.

Various factors combined to diminish Æthelstan’s standing in the literary imagination during the late Middle Ages. Legends about a heroic British king, Arthur, received a substantial boost from the writing of Geoffrey of Monmouth. While Æthelstan’s martial success still gained approval, rumours first reported by William of Malmesbury that Æthelstan’s mother had been a concubine and he was therefore illegitimate gained increasing currency. The mysterious circumstances in which his younger brother, Edwin, was drowned at sea in 933 (supposedly in an open boat without an oar), and Æthelstan’s foundation of the church at Milton Abbas in reparation did him little good either. Æthelstan’s literary reputation reached its nadir in the 14th‑century poem, Æthelston, in which the eponymous hero comes across as a troubled and insecure king, struggling to achieve the moral authority to control his realm.

At the same time, other pre-Conquest kings achieved equal or greater prominence. Attempts to make a saint of Edward the Confessor began soon after his death; he was canonised in 1161. Most problematically for Æthelstan’s cause, Alfred was frequently hailed as the first king to have held sway over all England. Orderic Vitalis, writing in the 12th century, first made that claim, which was energetically promoted by monks at St Albans including Matthew Paris, who went so far as to say that “in view of his merits Alfred was called Great”. King Henry VI even tried in 1441 to get Alfred “the first monarch of the famous kingdom of England” canonised, but without success. No one tried to make a saint of Æthelstan, even though he never married and had such a great reputation for piety in his lifetime.


Æthelstan was overshadowed by the legend of King Arthur, shown in a c1250-80 vellum. (Bridgeman)

 Neither great nor saint, Æthelstan’s place in the popular memory started to slide as the reputation of Alfred increasingly eclipsed that of all Anglo-Saxon kings. Elizabeth’s reign saw an increasing interest in the history of pre-Conquest England; antiquarians collected early English manuscripts and began to publish Anglo-Saxon texts, including Asser’s Life of Alfred. This helped to increase popular understanding of Alfred’s qualities as a ruler and build his reputation as a scholar and statesman at the expense not just of Æthelstan but of all other Anglo-Saxon kings for whom no equivalent biographies survive. William Tyndale had claimed that Æthelstan commissioned an early translation of the Bible. But it was Alfred’s promotion of English over Latin as the language through which to get closer to God that would resonate in the reformed English church, eager to find the historic roots of the Ecclesia Anglicana in the distant past.

Alfred’s reputation flourished further after the publication (in Latin in 1678, and in English in 1709) of John Spelman’s Life of King Alfred, which promoted the king as first founder of the English monarchy. Prince Frederick (son of George II) and his circle of patriots enthusiastically evoked Alfred for his protection of English freedoms and his defeat of foreign enemies, on land and sea. Thomas Arne’s masque Alfred, first performed for Prince Frederick in 1740, concludes famously with the anthem Rule Britannia.


A tenth-century script of the Venerable Bede's 'History of the English People', which was translated during Alfred's reign. (Photoshot)

Thus, gradually during the 18th and 19th centuries, Æthelstan’s memory waned. Only the Freemasons remembered Æthelstan and celebrated him as their mythical founder in England, his ‘son’ (brother) Edwin the first English Grand Master. History books (especially those written for children) found much to celebrate in the deeds for which Alfred was famed, not just his victories over the Danes but his inventions – a candle-clock sheltering inside a horn lantern – and his supposed role in founding the English navy by having ships of a new, longer, design built to try and defeat the enemy at sea.

A national myth
Æthelstan’s right to be considered the first king of all England seemed long forgotten, that epithet given either to Alfred’s grandfather (Ecgberht, d839) or more often to Alfred. Anglo-Saxon topics were popular among Victorian painters but neither Æthelstan nor his great battle at Brunanburh found visual commemoration in any picture exhibited at the Royal Academy between 1769 and 1904; Alfred was however frequently depicted. It was Alfred who took the central role in the creation of a national myth of English and British origins; he became the archetypal symbol of the nation’s own sense of itself. The beginnings of political stability in Britain (which stood in marked contrast to the upheavals elsewhere in 19th‑century Europe) went back to Alfred’s day. As Edward Augustus Freeman argued, Alfred was the most perfect character in history; no other name could compare with his.

Nothing brings out the contrast between the two kings’ reputations better than the marking of the millennial anniversaries of their deaths. Thanks to uncertainty about the precise date of Alfred’s demise, his millennium was celebrated not in 1899 but in 1901. First planned in the aftermath of Queen Victoria’s diamond jubilee in 1897, the celebration was to be a “National commemoration of the king to whom this empire owes so much.”

Crowds travelled to Winchester on Friday 20 September to watch Lord Rosebery unveil Hamo Thornycroft’s massive statue of the king set in the Broadway, Winchester, before proceeding to Winchester Cathedral for a service with the massed choirs of southern English cathedrals, at which the archbishop of Canterbury preached.


Both sides of a silver coin of Æthelstan, which proclaims him as "Rex To Brit" ("King of All Britain"). (British Museum)

 In stark contrast, a single notice in The Times of London for 25 October 1940 (buried under “Ecclesiastical News”), noted the supposed millennium of “Æthelstan the Great” (dating his death to 940, in error for 939). Lamenting that there might in happier times have been some celebration of this event, the correspondent remembered the king as the greatest and most munificent benefactor to St Paul’s Cathedral in London, his donations making that cathedral the richest in England.

Only with the revival of Anglo-Saxonism in the latter years of the 20th century, increased scholarly interest in the Latin and vernacular literature of England before the Conquest, and the critical editing of royal administrative documents, has Æthelstan begun to regain something of his former prominence. His reign lay at the source of many developments. First to unite the English peoples under a single authority, Æthelstan also accepted the submission of all the other rulers of Britain. Welsh kings attended regularly at his court, travelling round the kingdom with him.

 Æthelstan expressed his claim to hegemony over all Britain in a new language of imperial rulership and in visual symbols, most obviously his decision to wear a crown (shown on his coins and in the surviving portrait of the king giving a book to St Cuthbert). His sway over the whole island brought together under one rule peoples that had previously suffered significant political disruption and consequent social breakdown because of the Danish wars and Scandinavian settlements.

Æthelstan created an efficient administrative machine to govern a dispersed realm, and directed much of his legal activity towards the repair and renewal of this fractured and damaged society.

“Very mighty”, “worthy of honour”, “his years filled with glory”, “pillar of the dignity of the western world”, “pious King Æthelstan”: each of these near-contemporary comments reflects aspects of Æthelstan’s achievement and personality. He deserves to be brought out of the shadows that have obscured his memory and celebrated as a key figure in the making of England – and, indeed, the forging of Britain.

Where Æthelstan is remembered
Æthelstan supposedly visited Beverley in the East Riding of Yorkshire on his way to fight a major battle in the north and paused to pray for victory at the shrine of St John of Beverley (a prominent figure in Bede’s History, and an early bishop of Hexham). On his return south, victorious, he refounded Beverley church as a collegiate community of canons and granted it land and a number of privileges including the right of sanctuary. Three monuments in the minster recall the king, including a life-size statue cast in lead in 1781 added to the screen at the entrance to the choir. Æthelstan stands holding a sword in one hand, and in the other the charter of privileges he had given to the town of Beverley. On the opposite side of the archway leading into the choir is a similar statue of Bishop John of Beverley.

Outside the guildhall at Kingston upon Thames in Surrey stands a piece of grey-wether sandstone, believed to be the Anglo-Saxon coronation stone on which Æthelstan was crowned in September 925. The stone once lay in St Mary’s chapel in the town; when that was destroyed, it was moved to the market place, where it served as a mounting block. The Masonic order of Surrey led a campaign in the 1850s to re-situate the relic in a more formal setting, arranging for it to be moved in 1854 to its current location, mounted on a heptagonal base and surrounded by railings. Re-laying the stone involved appropriate Masonic ceremonies, including the sprinkling of the monument with corn, oil and wine.


The coronation stone in Kingston upon Thames on which Æthelstan was crowned in September 925. (Alamy)

In the restored Norman abbey church at Malmesbury in Wiltshire, Æthelstan is commemorated by a late medieval tomb chest in perpendicular style, now in the north aisle.

The king’s recumbent, full-length effigy lies beneath a heavy traced canopy. The original head has been removed and replaced with another of unknown date. Æthelstan was a generous patron of Malmesbury in life and chose to be buried there, near the tomb of St Aldhelm. In the 12th century, William of Malmesbury saw the king’s remains and remarked on his fair hair. During the Reformation his bones were lost and the tomb is now empty.

St Cuthbert and the kings of Wessex
 Both Alfred and Æthelstan are associated with legends relating to St Cuthbert (bishop of Lindisfarne, d687). At his time of greatest need, before the battle of Edington, King Alfred supposedly received a night-time visitation from the saint, who promised him victory and a glorious future for his sons. If Alfred would be faithful to Cuthbert and his people, Albion would be given to him and his sons, and he would be chosen king of all Britain. Æthelstan – who claimed that very title: king of all Britain – showed great devotion to the saint’s shrine on a visit to Chester-le-Street in 934. He gave many precious gifts including a book containing Bede’s life of Cuthbert. The frontispiece to that volume depicts a double portrait of the crowned King Æthelstan presenting the manuscript to Cuthbert.

Sarah Foot is Regius Professor of ecclesiastical history at Christ Church, Oxford and author of Æthelstan: The First King of England.

Friday, November 10, 2017

Ælfthryth: England’s first queen


History Extra


Illustration by Sarah Young.

If asked to name a medieval queen of England, most would probably fasten upon Eleanor of Aquitaine, the influential wife of Henry II, made famous by Katharine Hepburn in The Lion in Winter. A few Plantagenet and Tudor enthusiasts might think of Elizabeth Woodville, the capable consort of Edward IV and grandmother to Henry VIII. One or two of the more adventurous might even fix upon Emma of Normandy, the indomitable wife of King Cnut in the early 11th century. Many would struggle to think of any at all. But very few indeed would name Ælfthryth, the third wife of King Edgar (reigned 959–75) and mother of Æthelred ‘the Unready’ (r978–1013 and 1014–16).

This is understandable. Beyond her outlandish name (sometimes modernised as Elfrida), Ælfthryth faces a number of difficulties. For a start, our sources for her life are much scarcer than they are for her more famous successors. To this may be added the lower public profile of Anglo-Saxon history.

All too often we think of the Middle Ages as starting in 1066. Before this lurks the mysterious ‘Dark Ages’: a period filled with fascinating, semi-mythical figures such as Arthur and Merlin, but little in the way of real historical evidence. Still, it is a pity that she is not better known, for if any medieval English queen deserves to be a household name, it is Ælfthryth. And for all the importance of an Eleanor or an Elizabeth, it is Ælfthryth who has the honour of being the ‘first queen of England’.

Ælfthryth’s reign came at a decisive time in English history. The second half of the ninth century had seen the Vikings subdue the north and east of England. Only the kingdom of Wessex, south of the Thames, survived – and this only thanks to the dogged efforts of Alfred the Great (r871–99). Under Alfred’s successors, the English went on the offensive, and by his grandson Æthelstan’s time (r924–39) most of what is now England had been brought under their control. Later kings had to fight hard to maintain these gains, but in the end they succeeded.

Ælfthryth herself was born in the early to mid-940s to a prominent family in the South West. Upon coming of age, she was married to Æthelwold, the ealdorman of East Anglia (a royal officer, the equivalent of the later ‘earl’). Æthelwold’s family was one of the most powerful in England (his father had borne the nickname ‘half-king’, on account of his quasi-regal standing) and in this capacity he was responsible for almost a quarter of the realm. However, Æthelwold soon died under circumstances that are unclear. But rather than a setback, this proved the making of the young Ælfthryth.

Rival spouses
In 964 Ælfthryth, still only in her late teens or early twenties, went on to marry King Edgar, who had himself succeeded to the throne five years earlier. Like Ælfthryth, Edgar had been married before. In fact, he had two prior spouses, one of whom was still alive. Not surprisingly, there were questions as to whether this was a true marriage ‘till death do us part’: an indissoluble union in the language of the church.

 Such concerns were soon put to rest, however. On the occasion of the marriage itself, Edgar granted land to his new wife – a particular honour accorded to neither of his previous consorts. In fact, this seems to have been a different kind of union from the outset. Unlike her predecessors, Ælfthryth regularly appeared in government records. And, far from being there for purely decorative purposes, she seems to have influenced and guided royal policy.

 Before this, royal wives had been minor players. They appear only rarely in the documentary record, and when they do, they invariably bear the title ‘king’s wife’ or ‘king’s consort’ rather than ‘queen’. Such terms emphasise the dependency of these women on their husband; queen was not yet an office in its own right. But this too was now to change. From the start, Ælfthryth is styled ‘queen’.


The rugged ruins of Corfe Castle, built on the estate where King Edward was murdered. (Alamy)

The reason for this change lies in another break with tradition: Ælfthryth was also the first consort of England to be crowned and consecrated. The tradition of royal consecration had developed on the continent in the early Middle Ages. At its heart lay the ritual anointing of the monarch with holy oil and investment with symbols of office (above all, the crown – hence the modern term ‘coronation’). The ceremony enacted and symbolised the transition from heir apparent to king, and was thought to endow the monarch with divine favour. It made him king ‘by the grace of God’.

Royal consecration had become common in England in the ninth century, but it was reserved for ruling monarchs, invariably men. That Ælfthryth should be formally anointed like her husband marks an important point of departure. It indicates that, in both practical and symbolic terms, queenship was starting to become an office. Ælfthryth’s influence would not be owed entirely to her husband, but also to ‘divine grace’.

The partnership between Ælfthryth and Edgar is visible throughout the remaining years of his reign. In the year of their marriage, they began to reform the bishopric of Winchester. This was a process that involved removing the existing clergy, who were accused of lax standards, and replacing them with monks. In future years, the two worked closely to foster similar reforms elsewhere. And when, in 973, Edgar decided to undergo a spectacular second coronation at Bath, Ælfthryth was right there by his side.

A succession struggle
In early July 975, at the height of his powers, Edgar died at the age of no more than 32. This had not been foreseen, and a succession struggle soon erupted. This pitted Ælfthryth and Edgar’s son, Æthelred, against Edgar’s eldest son, Edward (Æthelred’s half-brother).

Most surprising is that there was a dispute at all. Though succession rules had yet to be formalised, it was generally anticipated that the eldest son would succeed (at least in the absence of a royal brother). That some were willing to back the much younger son Æthelred, who may only have been six at the time, requires some explanation.

It’s likely that the imposing figure of Ælfthryth lay behind their decision. As queen, she had enjoyed great power and influence and was understandably hesitant to let go of this. Edward’s succession posed a real threat to her. If Edward proved long-lived, there was every chance that Æthelred might be cut out of the succession. Yet Ælfthryth was not just power-hungry. As a consecrated queen, she may have felt that she was more legitimate than Edgar’s previous wives: his only true consort. And if this were so, then Æthelred was his only true offspring.

It was this that seems to have been the real point of contention: was Edward a throne-worthy heir, or an illegitimate bastard? Some were clearly convinced of the latter, but in the end age trumped legitimacy and Edward was consecrated king in his father’s stead.

Edward’s succession was a major blow to Ælfthryth, and such wounds were not easily healed. Barely had Edward taken control of the realm, when he was killed at Corfe in Dorset by supporters of Æthelred and Ælfthryth. He had been travelling to visit the two at the time, and it is hardly surprising that suspicion has often fallen upon them. However, contemporary sources, of which there is little shortage, do not implicate them. We are probably dealing with a situation rather like that of Henry II and Thomas Becket two centuries later: one of zealous supporters seeking to do their masters a favour, and going beyond their orders.


A scene depicting Ælfthryth looking on while King Edward (on horseback) is stabbed to death. Ælfthryth benefitted from the murder - but did she order it? (Bridgeman)

Whatever the precise circumstances, this act landed Æthelred on the throne that his mother had worked so hard to secure for him. However, he was still a child (no older than 12, and perhaps only eight or nine) so there could be no question of him ruling on his own. Instead, an informal regency was established with Ælfthryth and her supporters at its head. For the next six years, it was they who would rule with quiet efficiency. Only when the queen regent’s chief allies, Ælfhere of Mercia and Bishop Æthelwold of Winchester, died in quick succession in 983 and 984, did Æthelred finally take control of affairs. Initially, he distanced himself from the politics of his regents, and for the next eight or nine years Ælfthryth disappears from the record entirely. She was clearly removed from court, and her policies with her.

Crisis of confidence
 These years saw something of a youthful rebellion from the teenage Æthelred, who took the opportunity to promote new favourites and attack religious houses associated with his earlier regents. Yet it was also at this juncture that the Vikings began to plague his coasts. In 991 they defeated a major English force at Maldon in Essex. Æthelred suddenly suffered a crisis of confidence.

As was common in the Middle Ages, the king interpreted this as a sign of divine displeasure, and set about mending his errant ways – starting with restoring his mother to favour. He welcomed Ælfthryth back at court and reversed previous policies. Æthelred also charged his mother with the important task of raising his children (her own grandchildren, the heirs to the throne). Reconciliation seems to have been complete.

When Ælfthryth died on 17 November 1001, the king was deeply moved. She was buried at Wherwell, the nunnery she had founded in Hampshire. Soon after Æthelred issued an extraordinary document in favour of this centre. Like most royal enactments, the resulting text opens with a meditation on God’s will. Yet unlike other documents of the era, this quotes the biblical dictum: “Dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return,” then cites the fifth commandment: “Honour thy father and thy mother”.

Ælfthryth’s legacy lived on in the queens who followed her. Æthelred’s second wife, Emma of Normandy, cut quite the figure in future years, as did Edith, the wife of Edward the Confessor (and the sister of Harold Godwinson, the last Anglo-Saxon king of England). The office of queen had been born, and had a long and bright history before it.

 Ælfthryth’s inspiration
Two women who set the template for the queen’s achievements

In the years before Ælfthryth, the status of royal women varied significantly. The dynasty that united England in the early 10th century was that of Wessex (south of the Thames), and prevailing attitudes were drawn from there. At the time of Alfred the Great, the king’s Welsh biographer, Bishop Asser, criticised the “strange” West Saxon tradition of denying royal consorts the title of queen – a custom that reportedly went back to the king Beorhtric in the early ninth century (r786–802), whose wife accidentally poisoned him! This is the stuff of legend, but whatever the real grounds, West Saxon royal women – aside from Judith, crowned queen of the West Saxons in 856 – did not have a high profile.


Ælfthryth, shown in a manuscript from Abingdon Abbey. (Bridgeman)

Elsewhere, matters were different. In the Midlands kingdom of Mercia, royal wives traditionally held a more active role. It is here that the most famous female figure of the 10th century is to be found: Æthelflæd, ‘lady of the Mercians’.

Æthelflæd was the eldest daughter of Alfred the Great. She married the Mercian nobleman Æthelred, who oversaw the region on Alfred’s behalf. When her husband died in 911, she took power, working with her brother, King Edward the Elder (r899–924), to conquer much of the east Midlands and East Anglia. Her political links to Wessex doubtless helped her position, but her achievement is no less impressive for this. She may have offered a model for Ælfthryth, whose first husband hailed from East Anglia.

 Another likely inspiration was Eadgifu, wife of Edward the Elder. Little is known about Eadgifu during her husband’s reign, but when her sons Edmund (r939–46) and Eadred (r946–55) ruled, she seems to have been the power behind the throne.

Levi Roach is a lecturer in history at the University of Exeter and author of Æthelred the Unready (Yale University Press, 2016)

Wednesday, November 8, 2017

The great Viking terror: how Norse warriors conquered the Anglo-Saxons


History Extra


This detail from the side of a sledge in a ninth-century Viking burial shows two men fighting. In the 860s and 870s, the Vikings would bring war to England’s four kingdoms on a massive scale. (Bridgeman)

During the winter of AD 873–74, a Viking warrior met a gruesome death, probably in an attack on a Mercian royal shrine at Repton. He was a big man, almost 6 feet tall, and at least 35–45 years old. But in the shieldwall his head was vulnerable. He suffered a massive blow to the skull and, as he reeled from that, the point of a sword found the weak spot in his helmet – the eye slit in the visor, gouging out his eye, and penetrating the back of the eye socket, into his brain. While he lay on the ground, a second sword blow sliced into his upper thigh, between his legs, cutting into his femur and probably slicing away his genitals.

After the battle, the slain Viking warrior’s comrades buried him next to the Mercian shrine in what is now the parish church of St Wystan, where he lay for over a thousand years – until excavated by archaeologists.

The man in Grave 511 was buried with his head to the west, his hands together on his pelvis. He wore a necklace of two glass beads and an amulet in the shape of a Thor’s hammer. Around his waist was a belt, from which had probably been suspended a key and two knives – one of a folding-type, like 
a modern Swiss-army penknife.

The other warriors had placed his sword back in its wooden fleece-lined scabbard, and laid it by his left side, where it had doubtless hung in life. They also carefully put the tusk of a wild boar between his thighs, to replace what he had lost in battle; he had died a warrior’s death, and was destined for the pleasures of Valhalla. More mysteriously, they rested the wing bone of a jackdaw lower down, between his legs.

A younger man, perhaps the warrior’s shield-bearer, was buried adjacent to him in order to accompany him to the next world.

Finally, the burial party built a stone cairn over the graves, incorporating fragments of an Anglo-Saxon cross that they had deliberately smashed. They also erected a wooden marker between the graves so that all would know who lay there. There the burials remained undisturbed, and perhaps still visible, for generations.


A coin depicting King Alfred, who defeated Guthrum’s marauding army. (Bridgeman)

Game-changing tactic
Taken in isolation, these Viking graves tell us little about ninth-century England – they are merely the grisly results of one bloody incident in a period characterised by violence. Yet viewed alongside a succinct reference to the events that led to the Vikings’ deaths in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, they soon become something more powerful altogether – a rare insight into the arrival on these shores of a force that would change Anglo-Saxon England for ever, the Viking Great Army.

“In this year,” the Chronicle declares, “the army went from Lindsey to Repton and took up winter quarters (wintersetl) there, and drove King Burgred across the sea… And they conquered all that land… And the same year they gave the kingdom of the Mercians to be held by Ceolwulf, a foolish king’s thegn; and he swore oaths to them and gave hostages.”

The excerpt is full of references to this game-changing development. We know that King Burgred fled to Rome after his kingdom was attacked by marauding Vikings. And we believe that Ceolwulf was a puppet king, put on the Mercian throne by the Vikings for the very good reason that he would do what he was told.

Yet it is the use of “army” and “winter quarters” that make this particular Viking attack stand out from all that had gone before. This was no small band of raiders launching 
a lightning strike on an unsuspecting population before disappearing with its loot back to Scandinavia. No, this was a mighty military force made up of hundreds, if not thousands, of warriors, and the fact that it decided to bed down on what is now the grounds and cloisters of Repton school, suggests that it was here to stay.


Women and children flee as Vikings launch an attack, in a medieval illustration. (Alamy)

 Rival powers
In the mid-ninth century, England was not a single kingdom. Instead it was made up of four rival powers: East Anglia, Wessex (in the south and west), Mercia (including London and the Midlands), and Northumbria, to the north. Anglo-Saxon England was mainly rural and its wealth was derived largely from the wool trade. There were a few trading sites, or wics, that we might call towns. These include Ipswich, Eoforwic (York), Hamwic (Southampton) and Aldwych (the Anglo-Saxon trading port of London, now the Strand). But the majority of the population lived in dispersed rural settlements, as part of large estates owned by the king or the church.

Although capable of great works of manuscript and metalwork art, England was not industrialised. There were some imports, including German wine and lava millstones, but most everyday items were made locally. Most pottery, for example, comprised crude handmade and low-fired wares for local consumption. However, the Anglo-Saxon kings were Christians, and their rich monasteries – often placed in vulnerable coastal locations such as Lindisfarne, Monkwearmouth, and Jarrow – had been targeted by Viking raiding parties from the end of the eighth century.

Initially these were hit-and-run affairs, focused on portable wealth – church silver and slaves – and the forces involved were fairly small. The Vikings hailed from across present-day Scandinavia, and their slender longships – swift and shallow – allowed them to cross the North Sea and sail upriver to attack the heartland of England.

Occasionally the Vikings overwintered in England – on the Isle of Thanet in 850, and the Isle of Sheppey in 855. However, the so-called ‘Great Army’ that landed in East Anglia in 865 – the one that put Burgred to flight and over-wintered in Repton – was of a different magnitude, and had a different strategy. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle tells us that it had previously been campaigning in continental Europe but Charles the Bald, Holy Roman Emperor, strengthened 
Frankish defences and established a mobile cavalry force. The Viking leaders therefore appear to have decided that England, 
divided by internecine warfare, would provide easier pickings.

They were right. Soon after landing in 
East Anglia, the Viking Great Army took horses and travelled north, seizing York in 866. Next it swept south to Nottingham in 867, before returning to York the year after. Over the following three years it would 
attack Thetford (869), Reading (870) and London (871).

The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle says little of this period beyond recording where the army took wintersetl. Yet there can be little doubt that this was a crucial decade for English history. It witnessed the transformation of the Great Army from raiders to settlers, hastening the demise of the separate kingdoms of Mercia, East Anglia and Northumbria. In 876, one Viking force “shared out the land of the Northumbrians, and they proceeded to plough and support themselves”.


An amulet in the shape of Thor’s hammer – similar to this one – was found in the grave of a Viking leader killed at Repton in 873–74. (Alamy)

Hunger, cold and fear
The remainder of the Great Army, led by Guthrum, continued its campaigns, dividing out Mercia, and seizing the West Saxon royal estate at Chippenham in 877. Then it was suddenly stopped in its tracks by King Alfred of Wessex. Alfred had initially retreated into the marshes of Somerset to avoid capture but it wasn’t long before he was launching a counterattack: constructing a fortress at Athelney, rallying the men of Wessex to arms, and in 878 defeating the Vikings at Edington in Wiltshire. Alfred’s biographer, Asser, records that: “After 14 days the Vikings, thoroughly terrified by hunger, cold and fear, and in the end by despair, sought peace.”

As part of the ensuing negotiations Guthrum accepted Christianity, and “three weeks later Guthrum… with 30 of the best men from his army, came to King Alfred… and Alfred raised him from the holy font of baptism, receiving him as his adoptive son”. In 880 Guthrum’s army went to East Anglia “and settled there and shared out the land”.

Soon after, Guthrum and Alfred formally divided out their areas of jurisdiction, and made arrangements for relations between their followers over legal disputes, trade and the movement of people. Guthrum minted coins in his realm, some of which were copies of those of King Alfred, while on others he used his baptismal English name of Æthelstan. These initiatives were part of the process by which Guthrum became a Christian king in England.

Of the Great Army that precipitated these changes, we know little. Although we are given the names of the places where they over-wintered, the camps themselves remained elusive – until, that is, the archaeological work described in this article.

 On the European mainland, Viking armies are known to have based themselves on islands in major rivers. A late ninth-century account by Abbot Adrevaldus of Flavigny Abbey in France of a Viking army on an island in the Loire hints at the advantages that this conferred. The Vikings, we are told, “held crowds of prisoners in chains and… rested themselves after their toil so that they might be ready for warfare. From that place they undertook unexpected raids, sometimes in ships, sometimes on horseback, and they destroyed all the province.”

Other sources suggest that the Vikings were trading as well as raiding. For example, the Annals of St Bertin record that in 873 a Viking army besieged by Frankish forces at Angers was permitted to hold a market on an island in the Loire before departing in February. That armies were associated with trading is reinforced by the entry in the Annals for 876, which describes the “traders and shield-sellers” that followed the army of Charles the Bald. We also know that Viking armies were accompanied by women. A late ninth-century account by Abbo, a monk of St-Germain-des-Prés, refers to the presence of women alongside the Viking force that besieged Paris in 885 and 886. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle records that a few years later a Viking army “placed their women in safety in East Anglia”.

Nine-foot giant
Archaeological investigation has revealed more still about the Viking Great Army. Excavations of a mound in the vicar’s garden at Repton revealed the disarticulated remains of at least 264 people, of whom 80 per cent were robust males. They had been placed within the stone foundations of a Mercian mortuary chapel, and covered with a stone cairn. The deposit had been disturbed in the 17th century, when most of the stone walls were robbed, and Thomas Walker, a labourer, described to Simon Degge of Derby how the bones had originally been laid out around 
a central stone coffin, in which the remains 
of a “nine-foot giant” had been discovered. Exaggeration aside, this has been suggested 
as the grave of another Viking leader, surrounded by the mass grave of bodies reinterred from the battlefield.

It is also important to consider the landscape around the camp at Repton. Some 2.5 miles to the south-east, and overlying the flood plain of the Trent, archaeology has revealed the only known Viking cremation cemetery in the British Isles – in Heath Wood. Here, there are over 60 burial mounds in four groups, perhaps reflecting different warbands, and a different burial strategy. Excavation has revealed that some of the mounds were erected directly over cremation pyres. The hearths had been swept clean, but fragments of swords and shields remained, as well as the cremated bones of sacrificed horses and dogs, required for hunting in Valhalla.

The graves contained women and children as well as men. But, unlike the warrior in Grave 511, who may have been hedging his bets by being buried adjacent to the location of saintly relics and holy pilgrimage, these Vikings seem to have had no such reservations about their faith.


Trail of destruction: our map shows how the Viking Great Army
traversed England from AD 865–78.

 The kingdoms’ demise
The term ‘Great Army’ suggests that the Anglo-Saxon kingdoms were being assailed by one massive, unified force. However, documentary and archaeological evidence reveals that the army comprised multiple warbands drawn from different parts of Scandinavia. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle’s account of the Vikings’ battles with West Saxon forces in 871 records that the army was led by at least two kings – Halfdan and Bagsecg – and many jarls (chiefs), and it was reinforced later in this year by a “great summer army”. The contrasting burial strategies adopted at Repton and Heath Wood may reflect different factions within the Great Army, which divided into two after spending the winter at Repton.

 While Guthrum continued to battle against Alfred in Wessex, Halfdan took part of the army to Northumbria and proceeded to settle. This process is witnessed archaeologically by another excavation at Cottam, in East Yorkshire. Here, an Anglo-Saxon farmstead was abandoned before being replaced, in the late ninth century, by what we now describe as an Anglo-Scandinavian farmstead, its occupants adopting a new hybrid cultural identity revealed by, among other things, the style of their jewellery.

 This farmstead is just one example of the many ways in which the Viking Great Army transformed England. As well as changes in land ownership, its arrival precipitated the demise of the distinct English kingdoms and the emergence of Wessex, under Alfred, as a united Anglo-Saxon kingdom. It also witnessed the establishment and growth of towns, initially as defended burhs (fortified settlements) against the Vikings, many of which grew into major trading and manufacturing centres. 

In the wake of the Great Army, the Anglo-Saxons established a town at Torksey in modern-day Lincolnshire. Torksey was home to a mint and at least four churches, yet it would would earn its fame as the centre of a major pottery industry. This settlement near the banks of the Trent became one of the engine rooms of what has been described as England’s first industrial revolution. And, as the wheel-thrown and industrial-scale kiln technologies that were employed here were unknown in Anglo-Saxon England, they can only have been imported by continental potters travelling in the ‘baggage train’ of the Great Army. In other words, without the Great Army, that first industrial revolution may have looked very different indeed.

 After 865, England would never be the same. The Vikings were here to stay, and left their legacy on all aspects of English life.

 Overwhelming force
The Viking Great Army’s winter camps were among the largest settlements in England, as Julian D Richards and Dawn Hadley discovered when they investigated a site at Torksey

 The theory that the Viking Great Army was small – its size exaggerated by Anglo-Saxon scribes for propaganda purposes – has been well and truly exploded by the discovery of a Norse winter camp at Torksey.

 Our investigations of the site nine miles north-west of Lincoln – occupied by the Viking army over the winter of AD 872–73 – have recovered a wealth of plunder. This includes 26 ingots of silver and gold, as well as 60 pieces of broken-up silver jewellery, known as hacksilver. The Torksey investigations also uncovered fragments of broken-up Anglo-Saxon jewellery, ready to be melted down for recasting. The Vikings were trading, as well as processing their plunder.

 The site contained more than 120 fragments of Arabic silver coins, or dirhams (the largest collection of its kind in the British Isles), which arrived here from the Middle East, via Scandinavia.


The Viking winter camp at Torksey, as shown in the recent BBC One documentary Vikings Uncovered. Archaeological fieldwork has revealed that, over the winter of 872-73, its many residents were busy trading, repairing weapons and ships, and making jewellery. (© Compost Creative)

 There are over 350 weights, as well as Anglo-Saxon silver and copper coins. It is the English and Arabic coins that enable us to date the camp so precisely to 872–73.

 The Vikings, who did not use coinage in Scandinavia, operated a dual economy in England: sometimes they paid in money; at other times, by weight of silver. They were also forging coins on the camp, as well as making jewellery. Other objects found at Torksey include needles and tools – as the army repaired its ships, weapons and clothes – and gaming pieces. No doubt wives and mistresses inhabited the camp too.

 But it is the extent of the camp that makes the discoveries significant. The camp would have been an island, created by the river Trent to the west, and low-lying marshes to the east. It extended over 55 hectares (more than 75 football pitches), far larger than the enclosure at the Vikings’ winter camp at Repton.

 The force that over-wintered at Torksey in 872–73 numbered in the thousands, not hundreds, and was larger than the population of most Anglo-Saxon towns.

 Julian D Richards is professor of archaeology at the University of York and author of The Vikings: A Very Short Introduction (OUP, 2005). Dawn Hadley is professor of medieval archaeology at the University of Sheffield and is the author of Everyday Life in Viking-Age Towns (Oxbow, 2013). Together they are co-directing the Viking Torksey project.

Thursday, September 7, 2017

How the Anglo-Saxons Emerged in the 5th Century


Made from History


A bust of emperor Honorius (384-423) the last Roman Emperor to control Britain.

 BY CRAIG BESSELL

 At the turn of the 5th century AD much of the known world was in a state of upheaval as the Roman empire began to splinter and recede. Its outermost borders were neglected as troops were withdrawn from the frontiers to help defend Rome from ‘barbarian’ invasion.

 Britain lay at the very edge of the Roman Empire and it was one of the first to suffer from the loss of its imperial defenders. Just over the channel several tribes eyed Britain’s green and now almost completely unprotected shores. It wasn’t long before the first raiders landed.

 The End of Roman Britain
The Angles, Jutes, Saxons and other Germanic peoples of north-western Europe began to assail Britain in increasing numbers, the Britons reportedly fought off a sizeable Saxon incursion in 408 AD, but the attacks grew more frequent.

 By 410 AD, the native Britons were facing invasions from the north, as the Picts and Scots took advantage of the now unmanned Hadrian’s Wall and all along the eastern and southern coasts from tribes of mainland Europe. More and more invaders landed to pillage or to settle Britain’s fertile lands. The Britons appealed to Emperor Honorius for aid, but all he sent was a message which bid them ‘look to their own defences’. Many historians mark this as the official end of Roman Britain.

 The Arrival of the Saxons
What came next was a new period in the county’s history, the reign of the Anglo-Saxons, but how this came about is still subject to disagreement by historians. The traditional assumption was that, without the strong military presence of the Romans, Germanic tribes took swathes of the country by force and behind the invading armies came a massive migration. However, the theory that has become more widely accepted in recent years, due to more comprehensive evidence, is of a more gradual and peaceful merging of the two cultures to form a Germanic, Anglo-Saxon Britain.


A map indicating the patterns of migration in the 5th century that shaped Anglo-Saxon Britain

 Forming a New Identity
There was already a permeation of Germanic culture in many of the trading ports of the south-east of Britain. The prevailing theory now is that a gradual cultural shift occurred in the place of a dwindling Roman presence. The stronger and more immediate Germanic influence, coupled with a gradual migration of smaller groups of mainland Europeans, led to the eventual formation of an Anglo-Saxon Britain, divided into the kingdoms of Mercia, Northumbria, East Anglia and Wessex along with other smaller polities


A map showing the kingdoms of Anglo-Saxon England in the 8th Century

 That is not to say that there were not skirmishes fought. Records show that some enterprising Saxons, like the aforementioned group in 408 AD, who aimed to take land by force rather than set up a life more peacefully. Some of these raids did succeed, creating a foothold in certain areas of the island of Britain, but there is no evidence to suggest a full scale invasion.

 The Anglo-Saxons were therefore a mixture of many different peoples. The Angles and the Saxons, of course, but also other Germanic tribes and Britons. The culture that arose from this eclectic mix predominated in Britain for almost half a millennium.