Showing posts with label Norsemen. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Norsemen. Show all posts

Tuesday, March 13, 2018

What Vikings really put in their pillows

Medievalists


Miniscule barbules, the smallest branches of a feather, are examined under a microscope to identify the kind of bird. Here are two different birds. At bottom left is a rock ptarmigan, a type of game bird with rings around its barbules. At bottom right is a mallard with triangular growths at the ends of its barbules. Photo: Jørgen Rosvold, NTNU University Museum

BY NATALIE ANDERSON

 Not too many people are able to identify birds by examining a single feather. But a number of folks need to know that sort of thing, and it can actually save lives.

Your pillows – if they’re not synthetic – are almost certainly filled with domestic goose or duck feathers. These are the most common types of fill used for this purpose today. But our ancestors weren’t always as discerning.

“Eagle-owls,” says Jørgen Rosvold, a postdoctoral fellow in the Department of Archaeology and Cultural History at the Norwegian University of Science and Technology (NTNU) University Museum.

Rosvold is among a handful of individuals in Norway who can identify birds based solely on their feathers. He examined a pillow from a Viking grave and found feathers from Europe’s largest owl in it, along with feather residues from a variety of other species.

“This shows that the Vikings valued feathers as an important resource,”

 Rosvold says. Rosvold is part of an NTNU down project (Dunprosjektet), where one of the goals is to develop methods to identify small bits of feather residue. It’s not always easy to tell what species a feather comes from, especially if only small fragments of feathers remain.

“Sometimes all you can say for sure is that a feather comes from a duck,” says Rosvold.

But not always what kind of duck. Some feathers are just too similar to be certain what species it comes from. You might be able to say whether a feather comes from a game bird or a sparrow, but not always much beyond that.

“It depends on how well preserved the feather is, the kind of feather and whether the species has close relatives,” he says.

Large collection helpful
Rosvold can identify some feathers down to the specific species. The NTNU University Museum has a large collection, and if he’s able to first determine which family the bird belongs to, he can compare it with specimens from the collection.

As a rule, the underneath, most downy parts of feathers have distinctive features that make it possible to identify the former owner. The smallest branches of a feather, called barbules, are the most useful. Their shape and distribution of different growths, tiny irregularities and the colour can provide clues.


A well-preserved feather fragment found in a grave from the Viking era, about one centimetre long. Even after many hundreds of years you can see the colours and that this is a feather from a crow. Photo: Jørgen Rosvold, NTNU University Museum

“You can see the pigmentation really well, even after a long time,” says Rosvold. For example, you can see pigmentation in feathers from early Viking times, around 800 CE. Game birds are recognizable by the rings around their barbules. Duck feathers have distinctive triangular growths.

“In some cases, if we’re unable to identify a feather beyond the family level with microscopes, we can make more headway using DNA analyses. The analyses are easier when we’ve narrowed down the range of possible birds,” says Rosvold.

But this is clearly an art for specialists. Conservator Leena Aulikki Airola at the NTNU University Museum is skilled at detecting the impression of feathers in metal, among other things. This can happen when a sword is laid on a feather pillow in a Viking grave, for example. Over the years, the sword corrodes and the feathers in the pillow become covered with the rusty metal.

Cooperation between birds and people
As part of the project, researchers are studying Swedish and Norwegian grave discoveries from the Nordic Iron Age, including the Oseberg grave, to find out which birds the feathers come from.


Feather residues in corroded iron from a Viking sword. Perhaps the sword was laid on a pillow? Photo: Jørgen Rosvold, NTNU University Museum

One of the main goals for the down project is to find out when people established eider farming on the Helgeland coast and in central Norway. These are areas along the coast where people provide nesting shelters for eider ducks to return to year after year.

Eider farmers build nesting boxes and protect the ducks, which in turn leave large amounts of down behind. But we don’t yet know how long this cooperation between birds and people has existed.

“The cooperation goes way back in time. We’ve found a few eider feathers, but also a lot of assorted feathers,” says Rosvold.

For a long time people simply took what they had available to stuff their pillows. The researchers have found feather samples that date as far back as the late Germanic Iron (or Merovingian) Age, from around 570 and through the Viking era. No earlier use of feathers in Norway has been discovered, but that doesn’t mean that it didn’t take place. The Romans used a lot of feathers in their pillows, for example.

 Useful for others, too
Archaeologists and biologists aren’t the only ones who may be interested in these results. Identifying birds by their feathers may be important in other fields as well.

Any of us might be curious to find out just what kind of feather we found on our woods walk the other day.

Biologists find it useful to identify feathers from scat and pellets, which are undigested parts of food that are regurgitated by birds, to determine what they’ve been eating. Feathers from bird houses can tell us who lived there.

But knowing your feathers can also potentially solve crimes or save lives, such as for investigators who need to collect evidence. One specialist in the United States works primarily with feathers from birds that have collided with airplanes. Finding out what kind of bird crashed into the plane might enable you to take action to reduce the risks. Those microscopic details could end up being really important.

Thursday, January 25, 2018

Objects with Viking Rune Inscriptions Unearthed in Denmark’s Oldest Town

Ancient Origins


Ancient objects with rare Viking rune inscriptions have been discovered in Denmark. Experts suggest that the runic inscriptions could possibly shed new light on a very important period of the early Viking age.

Comb with Rare Runic Inscription Unearthed
One of the objects that archaeologists unearthed in Denmark is a comb with a rare runic inscription of the word “comb. The object dates back to around 800 AD and it was discovered during excavations of a Viking Age market place in Ribe – the country's oldest town. The comb’s considered extremely valuable as only a handful of runic texts from this period exist nowadays.

 Close to the comb, archaeologists also found a runic inscription on a small plate of bone or antler. According to the archaeologist and excavation director to Søren Sindbæk from Aarhus University, both objects illustrate best the missing details from a key period of Viking history, “These are the runes we’ve been missing. We’ve waited generations to be able to dig into this,” he says via Nordic Science.


The 3.8 by 1.8 centimeters bone plate had been burnt and otherwise deteriorated after more than 1,000 years in the ground. (Image: Søren Sindbæk)

Find May Shed New Light on how Vikings Used Runes
By runes, historians describe the letters in a set of related alphabets known as runic alphabets, which were used to write various Germanic languages before the adoption of the Latin alphabet and for specialized purposes thereafter. The Scandinavian variants are also known as futhark or fuþark. The earliest runic inscriptions date from around 150 AD. Archaeologists believe that runes changed drastically at the start of the Viking Age, but they are not sure – as there is not any clear evidence – exactly what standardized written (and even spoken) language looked like during that period, or even what the Vikings actually used runes for.

 The two new finds, however, double the number of runes from Ribe and increases the chance of archaeologists to understand their use better, “The new finds will help us in understanding the ways in which the Vikings used runes, and why they reinvented the art of writing," Sindbæk stated in an interview with IBTimes UK. And continued, "Was it developed as a tool for magic? For labeling property and other business in trading towns? Or for sending messages over long distances? This is hard to know if you only have a handful of inscriptions to go by, so even two more inscriptions makes a lot of difference."


Runes are engraved on both sides of the comb. One side has the verb ‘to comb’, the other has the noun, ‘comb’. (Image: Søren Sindbæk)

Runes Belonged to a Bronze Caster
Next, Sindbæk pinpointed that the discovery of the bone plate took place while he was excavating a small house that was known to have been a bronze foundry. At first, he could not understand what it was but soon the mystery was solved, “The engraving is so fine that you can’t immediately see the text, but I thought to myself, ‘what if it is an inscription?’ But then I thought, ‘no, that’s too optimistic,’” he said as Nordic Science reports. “It’s expertly crafted and we don’t find so many of its kind, so I couldn’t shake the idea. In the end I convinced myself that it had to be runes,” Sindbæk added, who was proven to be right.

  Text’s Hard to be Deciphered but Leaves Hope for the Future
Sindbæk explained that it was really hard for him and his colleagues to decipher the text as both ends were missing. Archaeologists don’t how big the original piece would have been, or in what context it was used. “A guess is that it was once part of a casket,” says Sindbæk via Nordic Science.

The text lacks certain features, which mark the beginning and end of each word. “Just like if we today wrote asentencewithoutanyspaces. It is decipherable, but difficult to read. But this does not mean that the work was sloppy. The runes were clearly etched by a steady hand with detail indicative of an experienced engraver,” Sindbæk told Nordic Science.

However, he’s being optimistic that the new finds will help him and his team to give answers to all these questions that have been unanswered for centuries, “These finds may help us in solving a famous enigma: why did people in a northern corner of Europe, often believed to be brutes and barbarians, invent and use their own alphabet?” he told IBTimes UK, demonstrating once again the incredible archaeological value of the new finds.

Top image: The comb was discovered in Ribe, West Denmark. (Source: sciencenordic Credit: Søren Sindbæk)

By Theodoros Karasavvas

Sunday, December 17, 2017

Did the Viking Age Really Start on 8 June 793 AD?

Ancient Origins


BY THORNEWS

 “Never before has such terror appeared in Britain as we have now suffered from a pagan race (…). The heathens poured out the blood of saints around the altar, and trampled on the bodies of saints in the temple of God, like dung in the streets”.

With these words, Alcuin of York, a Northumbrian scholar serving King Charlemagne of the Franks and Lombards described the surprising and brutal attack in June 793 on the church of St Cuthbert on the Holy Island of Lindisfarne.

The brutal Viking raid sent a shockwave through England and the rest of Christian Europe.

The 8th of June is according to the Annals of Lindisfarne the exact date when Vikings raided the Holy Island. Consequently, the Viking Age is defined to have started on this date, maybe at sunrise so that the raiders could sneak into the Northumbrian island under cover of dusk.

But is this really the exact date when Vikings became Vikings? Of course not, but the date marks a deep sword stab into the midst of the heart of the Christian Anglo-Saxon England. They came from the fjords of Western Norway, and when they left, only silence could be heard. 1

 These men from the fjords represented a new and uncontrollable threat, and the attack clearly demonstrated that the English kings (and other European kings) were more or less unable to protect their own people, even priests and monks, facing these brutal raiders.


Year 805 AD, Yorkshire, England: Imagine, you wake up in the morning and you see this Norseman waiting outside your door. (Illustration by: Stian Dahlslett)

The Vikings did not start to be Vikings in the year 793. The Viking Age started long before and followed the development of keels and sails until their longships easily could cross the North Sea and other open waters.

The Oseberg ship (built around 820-834) is the first proof of sailing ships in Scandinavia, but it is likely that this type of vessels were built as early as the mid 700’s.

Three Ships of Northmen
The attack on the Holy Island of Lindisfarne, just off the Northumbrian coast in northeast England, was not the first on the British Isles. In the year 789, three ships of Northmen who had landed on the coast of Wessex, killed the king’s reeve (chief magistrate) sent out to bring the strangers to the West Saxon court.

The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle reports:

During the reign of King Beorhtric 789 – 802], there came for the first time three ships of Northmen and then the reeve rode to them and wished to force them to the king’s residence, for he did not know what they were; and they slew him .

The Vikings did not leave their written version of events. Nor do the later sagas tell anything about their eight century raids.

However, the assault on the Holy Island was something new and represented a great threat because the pagans attacked the sacred heart of the Northumbrian kingdom and dishonored the very place where the Christian religion started on the British Isles.

This was the holy island where Cuthbert (c. 634 – 687) had been bishop, the man who after his death became one of the most important medieval saints of Northern England.


A carved stone found on the island, known as the “Doomsday Stone”, could represent the Viking attack on Lindisfarne. (Photo: english-heritage.org.uk)

As soon as the shocking news reached Alcuin serving at the Charlemagne’s court, he wrote to Higbald, bishop of Lindisfarne:

The church of St Cuthbert is spattered with the blood of the priests of God, stripped of all its furnishing, exposed to the plundering of pagans, a place more sacred than any in Britain .

The raid on Lindisfarne made the Englishmen understand that their lives would never be the same again, and the start of the Viking Age is therefore set to the “dark date” of the attack, i.e. 8 June 793.

However, if the Vikings had got the opportunity to describe themselves, they probably would have said something like: “We come from the north and honor Odin, Thor, Freyr, and our ancestors. Feel free to call us heathens or Vikings, but we have always been, and always will be free men from the north”.

 Furthermore, the Viking Age did not come to an end at the Battle of Stamford Bridge on 25 September 1066, a date determined by today’s historians and archaeologists.

But, this is quite a different story.

Top image: They came from the fjords of Western Norway, and when they left, only silence could be heard. (Illustrating photo from “Trace” Viking movie, by Markus Dahlslett).

The article ‘ Did the Viking Age Really Start on 8 June 793 AD? ’ by Thor Lanesskog was originally published on ThorNews and has been republished with permission.

Tuesday, December 5, 2017

Viking Camp Complete with Ship Building and Weapon Workshops Unearthed in England


Ancient Origins


The craftsmanship and shipbuilding capabilities of the Vikings are often overshadowed by stereotypical images of violent invaders, plunderers, and explorers. But it is worthwhile to remind ourselves that there were everyday aspects to the lives of the Norse men and women as well. Discoveries like recent excavations in Derbyshire help us reflect on the oft-forgotten skills of Vikings away from their homeland.

 A press release by the University of Bristol says that the Viking winter campsite from 873-874 has been known about in the village of Repton since 1975. However, the recent excavations by a team of University of Bristol archaeologists has exposed a larger area for the site to include sections used as workshops and for ship repairs.


A Viking ship. ( The-Wanderling)

According to the Daily Mail, ground penetrating radar revealed pathways and gravel platforms which were probably used as the foundations for tents or temporary timber buildings. One of the paths led to a mass grave site inside a deliberately damaged Saxon building which was discovered in the 1980s. New radiocarbon dating of a sample of the almost 300 people suggests that these are the remains of warriors who died in battle around the time of the camp’s usage. The team also noted that the building which housed the dead had once been used for a workshop.

Regarding artifacts, the archaeologists found some lead game pieces at the Viking camp. Broken pieces of weapons such as arrows and battle axes suggest that metal working took place at the site and Viking ship nails provide a clear indication for repairs likely taking place there as well.


Top: Fragment of axe-head found in association with Viking camp material. Bottom: Arrowhead found in association with Viking camp material. ( Cat Jarman, University of Bristol )

Speaking on the site, Cat Jarman, a PhD student at the University of Bristol, said:

“Our dig shows there was a lot more to the Viking Camp at Repton than what we may have thought in the past. It covered a much larger area than was once presumed – at least the area of the earlier monastery – and we are now starting to understand the wide range of activities that took place in these camps.”




Stamps showing ‘Everyday Life in the Viking Age.’ ( Public Domain )

The existence of the Viking winter camp was documented in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. It mentions the ‘Great Army’ annexing the kingdom of the Mercian king Burghred in 873. In fact, it has been argued that part of the reason that location was chosen for the camp was due to the nearby monastery which held the bodies of Mercian kings. The closeness to the river Trent would have also played a role.

The results of the excavations will be presented on the BBC Four series ‘Digging for Britain’ on November 22.


Students excavating the winter camp. ( Cat Jarman, University of Bristol )

Vikings are certainly a hot topic these days. Dramas such as Vikings (History Channel) and The Last Kingdom (BBC) have propelled an interest in the Norsemen to a new generation. Despite their popularity, there is much that people still misunderstand about the Viking age and its people. As Mark Miller reflected in a previous Ancient Origins article , a recent survey of 2,000 people in the UK shows,

“many British people are clueless about the Vikings. In fact, 20 percent didn’t even know Vikings were from Scandinavia. And 10 percent think the Viking Age happened much later, mistakenly thinking from the 15th to 18th centuries. Another 25 percent did not know the Vikings attacked the British Isles, instead thinking they raided South America.”


Danes invading England. From "Miscellany on the life of St. Edmund," 12th century. ( Public Domain )

A popular error regarding the appearance of a Viking is the 19th century myth of the Viking horned helmet . This stereotypical image has been traced to the 1800s, when Gustav Malmström, a Swedish artist, and Wagner’s opera costume designer Carl Emil Doepler both decided to depict Vikings in horned helmets. In contrast, depictions of warriors from the Viking age show them in iron or leather helmets, if they are even wearing the headgear at all.


A stereotypical painting by Mary McGregor from 1908 of Leif Ericson landing at Vinland ( Public Domain )

Top Image: A Viking weapon workshop. Credit: Kevin Roddy

By Alicia McDermott

Monday, November 13, 2017

Who Were These Vikings Buried Sitting Upright?


Ancient Origins


BY THORNEWS

Accidentally, in 1963 a burial ground with 24 graves deep inside the bay of Sandvika on the eastern side of the island of Jøa in Central Norway were discovered. The bodies buried in a sitting position dates back to the years 650 to 1000 AD, and analyses show that these Vikings belonged to a very special group of people.

Unlike other Viking Age graves, the graveyard was unknown because the bodies were not placed inside a burial mound that is clearly visible in the terrain, or marked in any other way. These dead Vikings were lowered into cylinder- and funnel-shaped sand holes from flat ground. The question is why.

Sandvika Burial Ground is Unique
The Sandvika burial ground is unique in Scandinavia, and these people are the only ones found with sitting bodies.

The burial custom had been very strenuous: Firstly, the person must have been dead for at least twenty-four hours so that rigor mortis could make it possible to shape the body into a seated position, and secondly, it must have been very difficult to form seats in the porous shell sand.

 However, these are not the only reasons why this particular group of Vikings is a mystery.


One of the skeletons found in the Sandvika sitting graves, Central Norway (Photo: NTNU Museum of Natural History and Archaeology, 1965-66)

Old Women – Small Men
In 14 of the 24 graves there were found skeletons and skeletal remains; 10 graves were empty.

 Of these, seven women and four men have been identified. Analyses shows that the women reached an average age of 47 years, much higher than average for Iron Age people, where the normal life expectancy for women was 39 years.

It has only been possible to determine the age of one of the men, and he died at the age of 40.


The reconstructed Tranås Iron Age farm located only a few hundred meters from Sandvika. (Photo: ThorNews)

The women had an average height of 157.2 centimeters (5ft 2in), and the men 162.6 centimeters (5ft 4in), which is much lower than the normal height for this period.

 The men were as much as 10 centimeters (3.9in) lower than the average for the Viking Age (172.6 cm / 5ft 8in) and 12 centimeters (4.7in) lower than people living in the Iron Age (174.7 cm / 5ft 9in).

The women do not differ so much – they only were 3.7 centimeters (1.5in) lower than the normal for Iron Age women (160.9 cm / 5ft 3in) and 0.9 centimeters (0.35in) lower than Danish Viking women (158.1 cm / 5ft 3in).

Heathen Hof Nearby
The dating of artifacts shows that these Vikings were buried fully clothed in the period 650 – 1000 AD, i.e. from the Merovingian period to the end of the Viking Age, and it seems like the burial custom ended when Christianity was forced with swords upon the Norse society.

Today, on the other side of the small river Hovselva (English: the Hof River) is the Hov (Hof) farm located in the northeast – indicating that there was a pagan temple located close to the burial ground.

In all of the 24 graves there were found remnants of bonfires, so it is natural to assume that there must have been some kind of ritual that included bonfire in connection with the funeral.

Orientation and Knives
Another peculiarity is that about half the bodies were facing north-northeast (facing the Hof) and half to the south-southeast. No one was facing directly east and only one body was facing directly to the west.


An illustration showing the orientation of the bodies. Credit: Thor Lanesskog

As many as ten knifes were found in nine different graves. They vary in length, but none of them has a blade more than 20 centimeters and consequently had not been used as Viking combat weapons. The individuals they belonged to must have used these knives for a different purpose.

There were no other weapons found inside the graves, which is unusual for the Viking Age. However, there were also found beads, brooches, finger rings and keys, but there is no repeating pattern.

Specialists in Their Field
The similarities between the buried Vikings are many:

 Both women and men died at an old age, and the men were much lower than the average height in the Viking Age.

They were buried in a small area close to a heathen Hof, and the dead were put down in a sitting position. There was no marking of the graves but they may have been marked with ornamental shrubs or flowers.

Almost all of the graves contained remnants of bonfire, and there are no traces of weapons. However, there were found many “regular” cut knives.

The bodies were facing north-northeast and south-southeast. No one was facing directly towards the east.

Who was this specialist group of Vikings? Was it “hovgydjer”, meaning pagan priestesses – and were the knives used for sacrifice? If so, the theory that Viking Age priests only were women is not correct.

Maybe Norse pagan priests also were small men with special “feminine qualities”?

Top image: Main image: Screen of Gameplay of the video game War of the Vikings (public domain). Inset: One of the skeletons found in the Sandvika sitting graves, Central Norway (Photo: NTNU Museum of Natural History and Archaeology, 1965-66)

The article ‘Who Were These Vikings Buried Sitting Upright?’ by Thor Lanesskog, was originally published on ThorNews and has been republished with permission.

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.

Wednesday, August 9, 2017

4 Major Misconceptions About Vikings


Made From History


BY CRAIG BESSELL

 There are a lot of misconceptions about Vikings. All fiery rage, horned helmets and relentless pillaging, but this doesn’t paint the proper picture of these men from the north.

 1. Vikings Were Not Called Vikings
Perhaps the greatest misconception of these peoples was their name. The word ‘Viking’ was used as a verb rather than a noun. To go raiding was to go viking, and you were going viking as you traveled far from home to search for riches. The word has now come to represent several peoples that came and raided the shores of, not only the kingdoms of Britain, but of Frankia (France) and many other parts of Europe and even as far as Russia. These people were primarily from Scandinavian regions which are now countries like Denmark and Norway.




A map showing the routes and destinations of viking expeditions.

 These Danes and Norsemen, as they were known, began raiding as a means to survive as their populations expanded. The lands they came from were rocky and sandy, in many places, and offered little in the way of good farm land. So they developed a culture where they took what they needed from others, from lands with richer soil and less warlike tendencies.

 2. Beserkers Didn’t Exist
The tales of the berserkers, naked, blood drenched warriors who tore at the opposition’s shield wall with unnatural rage-imbued strength, seem to have been fabricated. The ferocious figures who come up again and again in popular culture seem to have appeared either through misinterpretation of sources or as an artistic whim of writers and historians who appear to have conjured these characters up. Unfortunately, no solid evidence suggests that these mythic warriors ever really existed.


This modern imagining of a Viking warrior is pretty dramatic but not really representative of the historical viking.

 3. Vikings Didn’t Have Horned Helmets
The horned helmet is really just a myth, a fanciful addition to the ‘barbarian’ persona attached again by misinterpretation of the evidence and perpetuated within popular culture. There is no historical evidence at all that suggests they wore such helmets in battle. Though they may have used them for ceremonial purposes. They were a fighting people and smart in warfare, a helmet with large protrusions would be more of an unnecessary hindrance and they would likely have mocked such a design.

This kind of helmet would almost definitely have looked alien to a medieval norseman.

 4. Vikings Didn’t Depend on Pillaging Alone
They sailed ready for war and often encountered it, but as the years went by and the raiding parties grew larger, the focus was on settlement and an easy life rather than a lightning raid and a return to icy shores. By the middle of the ninth century AD, the men of the north decided they didn’t want to just pillage Britain, they wanted to stay. They came in their thousands and by the year 878AD they had all but conquered the entirety of the Anglo-Saxon kingdoms. Many years of struggle followed, but away from the fighting, mainly in the north of the country, warriors brought their families over the sea and settled into a peaceful farming existence.


Despite their fearsome reputation, it is often beneficial to remember that they were just men and like most others they craved a good life for them and their families. They did not constantly seek out war, but rather saw it as a means to a comfortable retirement on lush green shores.

Saturday, June 10, 2017

Ivar the Boneless: A Viking Warrior That Drew Strength From His Weakness

Ancient Origins


One would expect "boneless" to describe a man without a lick of bravery. Or perhaps a man without a shred of compassion in a heart of ice. Yet in the case of the infamous Ivar the Boneless, son of the renowned Ragnar Lodbrok, "boneless" means precisely what it sounds like: a man lacking sturdy bones, but not power.

 Who Was Ivar?
Possibly the son of Ragnar, best remembered for his horrifying death in a pit filled with venomous snakes, Ivar's existence is as much disputed as his father's. Both men possess names which were highly common in the northern countries in the ninth and tenth centuries, and there are records more formal than the Icelandic sagas which describe the deeds of similarly named men. In the case of Ivar, there is more certainty to his life, though the extent to which his accomplishments were his own rather than men of a similar name remains contested.

 Ivar is recorded as likely having a condition called osteogenesis imperfecta, indicating that his body can bend beyond what the average human is capable. Rather than enhancing his performance however, such a condition would damage his body over time, gradually weakening him physically. While such a diagnosis was not quite believable in the ninth century, Ivar's "strange state" was unusual enough that its origins were tacked on to his mythological bio: if he was the son of Ragnar, Ivar's bone deficiency is attributed to Ragnar succumbing to his overwhelming lust for Ivar's mother, Aslaug, before the agreed upon time. In other words, it was a curse.


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

The Great Heathen Army 
Historically, Ivar—despite his boneless moniker—is highly valued for his role as the leader of the Great Heathen Army in 865 AD, discussed in detail in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle of the same year. This army—called "heathen" because the ninth century still preceded Christianity in certain northern realms—is credited with a high-scale invasion of the Anglo-Saxons in modern day England. This amalgamation of Danish, Swedish and Norwegian warriors (though these countries were not defined in the ninth century the same way they are today) destroyed their Anglo-Saxon enemies in a short-lived, three-day battle.


History Channel ‘Vikings’ Ivar the Boneless, second left, with his brothers. (History Channel)

According to sources, the Great Heathen Army was headed by Ragnar Lodbrok's three sons, Halfdan Ragnarsson, Ivar the Boneless*, and Ubba. As previously stated, due to the lack of certainty in whether their father Ragnar was the same as the snake-sufferer, it is up for debate precisely why the heathen warriors chose to invade England—that is, if there was a reason beyond the "usual" pirating practices begun when the Vikings invaded Lindisfarne in 793 AD.** If Ivar and his brothers were, in fact, the children of the legendary Ragnar, the significance of this battle increases as the king of Northumbria (one of the Anglo-Saxon kingdoms) was directly responsible for Ragnar's death.

 Ivar’s Later Identity
 As Ivar the Boneless' parentage is under the umbrella of "legendary", there are other theories as to who this possible historical figure may be. One predominate suggestion is that he is Ímar, a Norse-born ninth century leader of the Viking settlement, Dublin.*** Ímar is recorded in the Irish Annals, an overarching term for the various historical documents written in regions that correlate to modern day Ireland. As Ímar's life and battle against the king of Ulster coincide chronologically with that of Ivar the Boneless, it has often been contemplated whether these two men were one and the same, and it is merely the fault of time and medieval biases that they're ancestry is recorded differently. Further, Ívar is no longer mentioned in any historical records following the year 870, not even as a deceased individual. Ímar, on the other hand, resurfaces at this time after an absence from the Irish Annals, and his death year is definitively determined as 873. Thus, if Ivar and Ímar were, in fact, the same individual with alternating names, giving Ímar/Ivar Ragnar Lodbrok as a father would have made his role in various battles and settlements far more pertinent mythologically as well as historically.

Imperfect as Ivar might have been by Viking standards, his "bonelessness" seemingly did little to affect his performance as a warrior and leader. He survives in historical record through the test of time, and his deeds are recorded with the same strong language one would expect from a man of his rank. Whether or not Ivar and Ímar are one, the acts attributed to Ivar directly paint him as a durable, determined Viking warrior, whose eventual defeat of his mythological father's killer is his final defining moment.

*A different historical source, the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, dictates a leader named Ingvar, believed also to be the same as Ivar.

**This attack marked the "beginning" of the Viking Age.

***Dublin was initially settled by the Vikings, just like York in northern England.

Top Image: Ivar the Boneless as portrayed in the History Channel Series ‘Vikings’ (History Channel)

By Ryan Stone

Friday, May 19, 2017

No One Questions that Vikings Drank; But Did They Make Wine?

Ancient Origins


Further evidence that the Vikings weren’t just beer-swilling, raping, and pillaging savages comes out of Denmark with the discovery of two grape seeds that may indicate the Norsemen didn’t just drink but may have even produced that most sophisticated beverage: wine.

It seems not everyone in Viking society was allowed to drink the more refined beverage, but many of them did enjoy their tippling of whatever kind of alcohol they could get. The lower echelons drank beer, which was easier to produce in the northern climate. The higher strata of society apparently enjoyed wine - when they could get it.


Viking drinking horns. (Mararie/ CC BY SA 2.0)

The question is, was the wine produced locally, or was it imported from France or other parts south? An article on Videnskab.dk explores these questions with interviews of archaeologists involved in the research of the two tiny grape seeds. Botanical archaeologist Peter Steen Henriksen, a curator at Denmark’s National Museum who found the two tiny seeds said:

 "This is the first discovery and evidence of viticulture in Denmark, and all that it entails in terms of status and power. We do not know how they used the grapes. Was it just has to put a great bunch of grapes on a table, for example? But it is reasonable to believe that they made the wine."

Dr. Henriksen found the seeds in soil at a distance from each other of about 600 meters (1968.5 ft.), and they grew between 100 and 200 years apart. He mixed the sand and dirt from the settlement of Tissø with water and found plant material, including the grape seeds. The remnants of the settlement are in Zealand.



An analysis of the strontium content in the two seeds proved one of the seeds was grown in Denmark, according to National Museum Professor Karin Margarita Frei. As Professor Frei says:

"We can safely say that it has a local strontium isotope signature, suggesting that it could be a grape grown in Zealand. This means that the first time we can say that they may have produced wine in Denmark. Before we had only conjecture, now we can see that they actually had grapes, and thus potential to make it themselves. Suddenly it becomes much more real.”


Harvesting grapes for wine. (Public Domain)

 The speculation that elites enjoyed wine may be confirmed by the nature of the settlement of Tissø, which the article calls “one of our richest sites from the Viking Age in Denmark. It is an example of how a royal family—or at least something resembling—has manifested itself in the same place for a very long period. It stretches from the late Iron Age to the end of the Viking Age, from 550 to 1050 AD.”



The settlement of Tissø, which was rich and may have been the seat of a Viking monarch, was near this large lake, which is connected to the sea by a river. (Vastgoten/CC BY SA 3.0)

Sandie Holst, a co-author of the article explaining the results of the research, published in the Danish Journal of Archaeology, says the wine may have set the elites apart from ordinary people in Viking society. It was like saying, “I can drink wine, and you can only drink beer,” she tells Videnskab.dk.

Top image: Drinking from a Viking drinking horn. (CC BY SA 3.0) Oak wine barrels. (Sanjay Acharya/ CC BY SA 3.0)

By Mark Miller

Thursday, May 18, 2017

Vikings Beheaded English King and Patron Saint Edmund, but What Happened to his Body?

Ancient Origins


It’s a 9th century tale involving Vikings, their beheading of a famous English king, and upheaval that led to the burial and reburial of the king’s remains in an unknown spot. And the story is still playing out today as the remains of King Edmund, patron saint of England, are being sought in the town of Bury St. Edmunds.

The Saxon king ruled the East Angles during a time when the British Isles were under attack from the Scandinavian marauders. The Vikings shot Edmund full of arrows somewhere in Suffolk or Norfolk, the stories say, when he refused to renounce Christianity. After killing him, the Vikings decapitated Edmund’s body to desecrate it.


St Edmund was shot full of arrows (CC by SA 3.0) 

The search has some currency because a few years back the remains of King Richard III were found and given a better burial. 

Edmund at one time was at least as famous as Richard. His place of rest became a pilgrimage site for kings and citizens alike. 

Now historians believe it’s possible Edmund’s remains were reburied under the place where a tennis court now sits. Archaeologists are seeking permission to dig there.




The tennis courts under which the king may be buried. (Credit: SWNS)

The St. Edmundsbury Borough Council has indicated it may approve the excavations. The council owns the Abbey Gardens and tennis courts near the grounds of St. Edmundsbury Cathedral.

Edmund’s remains had been in a Benedictine abbey, but they were lost when the abbey was wrecked during the religious upheaval under King Henry VIII. It’s believed the body may have been moved to the Abbey Gardens, perhaps underneath what are now the tennis courts. Under there is also a monks’ graveyard.

But the king’s burial may stand out from the monks’ because it’s said he was reburied in an iron coffin. Presumably the monks did not have such a distinction for their burials.

 Historian Francis Young told The Telegraph a commission dissolved the Benedictine abbey in 1539. Records indicate the commissioners did not mention the body of the king. But Young said it’s likely they allowed the monks to quietly remove it and rebury it elsewhere because Edmund was king.



The ruins of the Abbey of St. Edmund with the more recent cathedral in the background. (Creative Commons/Bob Jones photo)

Mr. Young said:

“According to a third-hand account from 1697, St. Edmund was placed in an iron chest by a few monks but sadly the account does not give the location within the Abbey precincts where he was buried. On balance, however, the monks' cemetery is the most likely location.”

The councilor in charge of the project, Robert Everitt, told The Telegraph:

“It would be an incredibly important historical discovery if he was found under there. It is something the borough want to do and the cathedral are in agreement as well, but we need to ensure we replace the courts. We are looking at St James Middle School courts, which are not being used [as the school is closed]. They would be ideal and would ensure people can play tennis right next to the Abbey Gardens.”

After killing him, the Vikings decapitated Edmund’s body to desecrate it. But the myth tells of a wolf that called out to the king’s followers saying “here, here, here,” leading them to the head and allowing them to bury the body with it.

Not long after Edmund died, people built a shrine for his body in the abbey of the town then known as Bedericesworth. That name later changed to Bury St. Edmunds. Edmund was so famous that the town became the most popular pilgrimage site in England. Many kings visited. Eventually St. Edmunds became patron saint.

Top image: Image from ‘Vikings’, a medieval drama series airing on The History Channel. By Mark Miller

Thursday, March 30, 2017

How England rode the Viking storm

History Extra


Alexander Dreymon plays Uhtred in The Last Kingdom. The drama – based on Bernard Cornwell’s Saxon novels – depicts Anglo-Saxons and their Viking ‘foes’ learning to co-operate. But was this scenario played out for real in ninth-century Wessex? (© BBC)

An early scene in series one of the BBC TV series The Last Kingdom sees the hero (or anti-hero) Uhtred, dispossessed claimant to the Northumbrian fortress of Bamburgh, entering the city of Winchester for the first time. Uhtred and his companion, both raised in a Danish household and in many ways more habituated to Danish customs than Anglo-Saxon ones, gain rapid access to the royal court of Alfred of Wessex. At the heart of the court, the pagan Uhtred is granted an audience with the Christian prince – and their discussions range from knowledge of the world to military strategies. From this, we get an insight into Alfred’s relationship with Uhtred, how each sees the other – and, crucially, how each intends to use the other.

 Could such a scene have played out in ninth-century Winchester? Why was a prince of the West Saxons extending the hand of friendship to a pagan – a Dane, no less – at some point in the early 870s? The stereotypes dictate that a Danish Viking was too intent on pillaging to engage in any communication but violence. Received opinion also has it that the West Saxons were far too pious to accept Scandinavians as anything but the scourge of God, to be resisted by warriors and suffered by holy men.

 Viking onslaught
In many ways, the West Saxons’ attempts to defend their realm in the face of the Viking onslaught – particularly under Alfred ‘the Great’ in the final decades of the ninth century – is a story of conflict, of battles and stratagems, peace treaties made and broken, and of military leaders straining for victory in the direst of circumstances.

 According to the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle and Life of King Alfred – the West Saxons’ main courtly products telling the story of these years – that military leadership was provided by Alfred himself. But no matter whether Alfred can really be personally credited with the successes of the West Saxon kingdom in repelling the Viking threat, there is more to the story than conflict and the imposition of a West Saxon peace. Compromise, trust and understanding between the two peoples – as portrayed by the fictional Uhtred and Alfred in The Last Kingdom – was also at the heart of what it meant to be English in the 9th and early 10th centuries.

 Where early medieval ‘Englishness’ was once regarded as binary – either you were English or you weren’t – and the West Saxons’ defence against the Vikings was seen as a part of the making of that Englishness, there is now room for a more nuanced story. The Vikings who came to England in the ninth century were woven into this story in a way that made them so much more than the pagan ‘other’.

 That is not to say that Danes did not represent an existential threat to Anglo-Saxon rulers and their kingdoms, particularly Wessex. During the later part of the ninth century, the West Saxon kingdom was defined by its difference to the Danish-held territories – and the need to defend themselves against the Danish threat drove much of the West Saxons’ policy forward. The Danes launched numerous attacks on Wessex, and the kingdom itself was almost lost to at least one well-organised incursion.

 From the introduction of military service to the building of ‘burhs’ (fortifications), the character of the West Saxon kingdom was determined by a Scandinavian threat outside it.

 One of the terms that Christian writers most often employed to describe the pirates who exploded upon the western European scene in the late eighth and early ninth centuries was ‘Northmen’, a word that, while (mostly) being more geographically accurate, recalled the apocalyptic idea, trumpeted in the Book of Jeremiah, that evil would come from the north. To many religious writers, it must have seemed that these ‘Northmen’ indeed did herald the end-time. But by the late ninth century, we see fewer ‘Northmen’ in Anglo-Saxon sources, as the term gave way to ‘Dane’. And the reason for this may lie in the increasing representation of Vikings as people who you could do business with.


St Edmund is captured by Danes in a c1130 illumination. His death in 869 would go down in infamy yet, despite this, Vikings and Anglo-Saxons would learn to co-operate. (© Topfoto)

 Danes and Northmen
It seems that this was a meaningful distinction – and one that may have been reflected in the pages of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. While an early English text had labelled the instigators of an attack on Dorset in c789 as ‘Northmen’, a later account of the very same incident in the Chronicle refers to the aggressors as ‘Danes’. It was perhaps a telling editorial modification.

 This important, if tentative, change in attitude was reflected in the growing number of peace agreements that the two sides signed in the late ninth century. The most important of these was the ‘Alfred-Guthrum’ treaty, sealed following Alfred’s 878 victory at the battle of Ethandun (Edington, Wiltshire) which shattered the Vikings’ ambition of conquering Wessex . The surviving document that records Alfred’s triumph probably represents a renegotiation of the territory between the two leaders.

 In many ways, this treaty recognised how ‘Danes’ and ‘Englishmen’ were separated and subjected to different legal systems. However, the fact that both groups were subject to the same law – which was agreed by two sets of leaders, “confirmed with oaths, for themselves and for their subjects, both for the living and for the unborn” – created a sort of unified identity that had not before existed in the area that is now referred to as England.

 That sense of peace was important. The Venerable Bede, the eighth-century Northumbrian author of a work long recognised as providing Alfred’s ‘blueprint’ for the idea of an Angelcynn (English realm), had reported that an early Anglo-Saxon king, Edwin, had provided the conditions in which a woman could travel with a newborn child from sea to sea without fear. Whether the conditions in late ninth-century England really allowed for such journeys is immaterial. Alfred’s allusion to those “unborn” might have been intended with Bede’s sense of peace in mind; a king who provided peace for an Angelcynn was one who recognised ‘Danes’ as potential subjects. There was precedent to be followed here, but it was not an English precedent. Instead it came from across the Channel, in the land of the Franks (roughly equivalent to modern-day France).

 Historians have largely debunked the old myth of there being a great chasm between the dealings of the Western Franks and Alfred with the Vikings – the former traditionally damned as a failure; the latter hailed as a spectacular success. In fact, Frankish treaties with Vikings not only worked but also enhanced the standing of a number of rulers – these were not embarrassing episodes of compromise but moments to be celebrated. And they may have influenced Alfred – who had visited the court of Charles the Bald in West Francia as a young boy in the 850s – for he, too, was aware of the value of bringing Vikings into the Christian fold.

 Although not particularly successful in the long term, the baptism by Charles the Bald’s father, Emperor Louis the Pious, of the Danish ruler Harald Klak in 826 had been a seminal event in the Carolingian court. Here we might trace the transformation from ‘Northmen’ to ‘Danes’, as Frankish authors took the event to their hearts as a means of depicting the imperial idea of Frankish kingship.

 Around this time, Frankish writers started to take a serious interest in who ‘Danes’ were, and, given the Anglo-Saxons’ preoccupation with Frankish affairs, it is perhaps not surprising that this is echoed in England a generation or two later. Charles the Bald had been a young boy at the ceremony and it evidently had a major effect on him, just as Alfred’s visit to the Frankish court had an impact on the Anglo-Saxon ruler’s life.

 Moment of triumph
An example of how a spirit of compromise had permeated Alfred’s Wessex is provided by the fact that Vikings were serving in the community of the Somerset monastery of Athelney, a site founded to celebrate Alfred’s great moment of triumph in 878. The famous biographer of Alfred’s life, Asser of St David’s, described them as “pagans” (pagani). Yet clearly they were not really pagans in the religious sense – they were, after all, part of a Christian community.

 Around the same time, Alfred received the Scandinavian sea captain, Óttarr (Anglicised as Ohthere), at court. Óttarr is described in an Old English text as “most northern of the North-men”. Just as the fictional Uhtred comes to the West Saxon court in The Last Kingdom, this ninth-century view of Alfred has the king using Óttarr to discover more about the lands and peoples of Scandinavia. This provides further evidence that, though the Viking threat had by no means disappeared, these ‘North-men’ were very different from those who had perpetrated the apocalyptic attacks of a few decades earlier.

 The lands they lived in were no longer mysterious. The understanding of them was more subtle, more complex, and far more human. Indeed, an object similar to the so-called ‘Alfred Jewel’, an artefact described by an Old English text as an æstel, has been found during excavations of a chieftain’s complex at Borg on the Lofoten Islands in northern Norway. Did Óttarr carry the ‘Borg Æstel’ back home after his stay at the West Saxon court? If so, it showed that a symbol of Alfred’s lordship – these objects were, after all, closely linked with Alfred’s court – had huge resonance in Scandinavia.

 Óttarr was not an ‘Englishman’ but in some respects his relationship with “his lord Alfred” demonstrates that relationships between peoples were about more than just ties of blood and clearly-defined nationhood.

 This remained the case well into the 10th century. For though the West Saxons’ expansion in the early 900s saw English Christians forcing Danes and other Vikings into submission through strongarm tactics, ‘Danes’ and ‘English’ continued to make agreements and negotiate over territory in a way that mirrored their predecessors’ diplomacy.

 In fact, the descendants of ninth-century Scandinavian lords became the ‘men’ of English rulers – particularly Edward the Elder (899–924) and Æthelstan (924–39) – who allowed their new subjects to keep their lands in return for a submission to lordship.

 So this was not purely a story of nationhood or of the triumph of one group over another. Instead, the Vikings’ role in the making of ‘England’ demonstrated that different peoples’ dealings with one another needed to be defined by flexibility as much as by factionalism and conflict.

 “I became a historical helpline”
 Being the historical advisor on The Last Kingdom meant working fast and remembering that the story comes first, says Ryan Lavelle...

 I have been a fan of Bernard Cornwell’s books on early medieval England since my student days, so it was a great pleasure – and an honour – to work with Carnival Films on The Last Kingdom, their adaptation of his Saxon novels.

 Cornwell often uses an outsider to tell a story, like his famous Napoleonic creation, the working-class British Army officer Sharpe. In The Last Kingdom, it is the Saxon Uhtred, whose Danish upbringing creates a conflict of identity that propels the storyline. It’s been fascinating to witness the production developing as the book’s first-person narrative and biographical storyline has had to pick up a pace for a series of TV episodes.


Alexander Dreymon and Emily Cox star as Uhtred and Brida in the “entertaining, interesting and thought-provoking” The Last Kingdom. (© BBC)

 While I would love to take some credit for that, my own role meant leaving the storytelling to the experts, and simply being available to respond when needed to provide some costume advice, comment on scripts, and make occasional set visits. In many ways I became a historical helpline, getting questions like “tell us how a marriage would be arranged”, “what could happen at a coronation?”, “how should this name be spelt/pronounced in Old English?”

 To answer such questions meant putting what I’ve learned about the early Middle Ages beyond rarefied academia into a ‘real’ world of creative imagination populated by such real historical characters as Alfred ‘the Great’ (not always a likeable fellow, it appears). I’ve had to avoid the historian’s temptation to respond to questions with a list of footnotes and caveats leading into a range of other possibilities based on the slimness of the surviving evidence. That sort of thing cuts no ice in a multi-million-pound production.

 I quickly learned that, because what happens in one version of the script can change quickly – and change again a dozen times before it is shot – clear and concise answers are essential.

 I have also had to keep reminding myself that The Last Kingdom is not a historical documentary series. The overriding principle has always been to drive the story forward, but I’ve constantly had to think: “Is this possible – does it work on screen?”

 What the team came up with didn’t always match my interpretation of Anglo-Saxon history, but that usually needs footnotes! However, the production is a valid interpretation: it’s entertaining, interesting and, for me as a historian of the period, it’s thought-provoking. To that end, I couldn’t have asked for more.

 Living in the shadow of the Vikings
 From Cornish rebellions to puppet kings, our map shows how the Norsemen’s raids impacted on the kingdoms of Britain in the ninth century…

 Strathclyde
A Welsh (‘British’) kingdom whose territory ranged across modern-day Scotland and Cumbria in north-western England, it was dealt a blow when Dumbarton Rock was besieged by Dublin Vikings in 870. With Govan (now in Glasgow) as its likely religious centre, Strathclyde still continued as a political force well into the 10th century.

 Welsh kingdoms
A range of kings with a variety of extents of power and layers of lordship appears to have been the order in early Wales, with Gwynedd in the north-west coming to the fore. Although Rhodri Mawr (‘the Great’) suffered at Viking and English hands, probably killed by Mercians in 878, his successors asserted dominance over many of the neighbouring kingdoms, making alliances with Vikings and Anglo-Saxons according to circumstances.

 Cornwall
Cornwall was coming under the West Saxons’ direct control in the ninth century. At least some Cornishmen resisted, including allying with Vikings in 838. The death of the last known Cornish king is recorded in a Welsh annal in 875 but the survival of Celtic place-names in Cornwall shows how the old kingdom never became a full part of the Anglo-Saxon world.

 Alba
By the late ninth century, the areas controlled by kings of the Picts and Scots were beginning to be referred to as Alba, the Gaelic word for ‘Britain’, suggesting change was in the air. The kingdom of Alba was controlled by a line of rulers, of the house of Alpín, who emerged during the ninth-century upheaval of Viking attacks to assert domination over large swathes of territory which would form the core of a later Scottish kingdom.

 Northumbria and the Kingdom of York
The kingdom of the Northumbrians had been created by the merging of the southern kingdom of Deira, focused on York, and the northern kingdom of Bernicia. Vikings controlled York from the 860s and settled soon after, while Bamburgh remained a seat of continuing Anglo-Saxon power in the north.

 Mercia
Kings of Mercia had held overlordship over other Anglo-Saxon kingdoms during the eighth century, but remained a force to be reckoned with in the ninth. Years of hard campaigning led to the replacement of the Mercians’ king in 874 by a ruler who may have been a Viking ‘puppet’, then by Æthelred, an ealdorman (governor) likely to have been subordinate to King Alfred.

 East Anglia
The last independent Anglo-Saxon king of the East Angles was killed by Vikings in 869 and is remembered as St Edmund. East Anglia became a Viking kingdom under the control of Guthrum, christened Æthelstan in 878. A decade of peace led to control by other Vikings after Guthrum’s death, but their coins bearing the name of St Edmund reveal how they ‘bought into’ Anglo-Saxon politics. 

Wessex
 Ruled by the descendants of Ecgberht, who had seized power at the start of the ninth century, the West Saxon kingdom controlled much of the south of England by the time of Alfred the Great (reigned 871–99), who managed to hold onto his throne in the face of Viking attacks.

 Ryan Lavelle is reader in medieval history at the University of Winchester. He has co-edited Danes in Wessex (Oxbow, 2015)