Saladin and Richard

When Richard I of England arrived to lead the Siege of Acre that had been begun by Guy of Lusignan, things started looking up for the Crusaders. A month of constant attacks on the walls by siege engines motivated the garrison holding Acre to surrender, against the orders of Saladin. Saladin relented, ratifying the surrender, and asked that the Muslim garrison be spared. As ransom for their lives, he offered 200,000 dinars, the release of Christian prisoners held by him, and the return of the True Cross.

Unfortunately, the first installment of dinars did not arrive on schedule, and Richard—never known for being calm and collected—chose to respond by killing the Muslim prisoners, all 2700. They were paraded outside the city walls and executed in sight of Saladin's army. A 12th century biographer of Saladin, Baha ad-Din ibn Shaddad, recorded other reasons for the slaughter that do not place blame on Saladin:

The motives of this massacre are differently told; according to some, the captives were slain by way of reprisal for the death of those Christians whom the Musulmans had slain. Others again say that the king of England, on deciding to attempt the conquest of Ascalon, thought it unwise to leave so many prisoners in the town after his departure. God alone knows what the real reason was.

Saladin executed his 1000 Christian hostages in response. Battle was only to be expected next.

Richard's goal was to re-take Jerusalem. The key to that was controlling the port of Jaffa, further down the Mediterranean coast from Acre. Control of Jaffa meant being able provision his army from his ships that would be docked there. He started marching south.

Richard did not want the army stressed by heat and dehydration—issues that had plagued the Crusaders who were wiped out during the Battle of Hattin. He marched the army slowly, limited by the pace of the foot-soldiers and the baggage train, starting in the relative cool of the early morning and sheltering during the hottest hors of the day. Keeping the sea on one side also meant the Crusaders could not be surrounded, even though Saladin's army was mostly mounted and could move quickly. Richard kept mounted regiments ready for attacks. Discipline was tight. Baha ad-Din complimented them:

The Moslems discharged arrows at them from all sides to annoy them, and force them to charge: but in this they were unsuccessful. These men exercised wonderful self-control; they went on their way without any hurry, whilst their ships followed their line of march along the coast, and in this manner they reached their halting-place.

Saladin soon realized he would not be able to stop Richard's advance unless he committed the army to an all-out attack. The Crusaders were approaching an area where it might not b so easy to keep their tight formation: the Wood of Arsuf. One of the few frosted regions of Palestine, this miles-long wood would allow him to hide his army nd make a surprise attack.

On 6 September 1191, the Crusaders entered the Wood and rested. The next day, the only face-to-face battle between Saladin's and Richard's armies would take place. See you tomorrow.

Saladin and the Third Crusade

When the Third Crusade started, it became a problem for Saladin. This was not only because it meant more Western European Christians trying to conquer territory in the Holy Land, but because the leader, Emperor Frederick I (aka Barbarossa), had previously made an alliance with Saladin, and now he had to go back on his word and inform Saladin that they were going to be opponents. (We saw recently how Saladin treated oath-breakers.) The Europeans included leaders Barbarossa, Richard I of England, Philip II of France, Guy of Lusignan, and Conrad of Montferrat. Guy had already begun the Siege of Acre before the Crusaders had arrived. (The illustration is of the Siege from a 13th century history.)

You could say Saladin was the cause of the Third Crusade. After the unsuccessful Second Crusade, the Zengid dynasty controlling Syria fought the Fatimid dynasty of Egypt. Saladin, thanks to his military prowess, brought both the Syrian and Egyptian forces under his control, and used this larger army to recapture territory controlled by Crusaders, capturing Jerusalem from Guy and Sibylla in 1187.

The Crusade had early setbacks. Although Barbarossa was a leading figure in starting the Third Crusade, he was elderly. He died before ever reaching the Holy Land. Demoralized, many of the German soldiers returned home. Once the Siege of Acre was lifted, Philip of France and Barbarossa's successor, Leopold V of Austria, went home. The Siege took two years to lift, and they had had enough of camping in the Holy Land and of Richard's arrogance. Richard refused to accord Leopold the same respect he would have given Barbarossa, and refused to have the Austrian banner flown with those of the other countries involved. (Leopold would have his very ignoble revenge against Richard later.)

This put Richard and Saladin as the two major opponents of the Third Crusade. Their respect for each other as rulers and warriors became a story in itself. I'll tell you more tomorrow.

Salah ad-Din

Perhaps the most prominent Muslim in the centuries of the Crusading period was Yusuf ibn Ayyub, a Kurdish man who was given the nickname or honorific Salah ad-Din, meaning "Righteousness of the Faith." To the people of the West, this was abbreviated to Saladin.

He was born about 1137, the son of a Kurdish mercenary and politician. He was well-educated, and reportedly able to discuss arithmetic and law, Euclid and Ptolemy's Almagest, and especially the Quran. He was more interested in religion than military matters, but he became increasingly prominent because of military successes against Crusaders.

He was sent to Egypt in 1164 by Nur ad-Din, Emir of Damascus and Aleppo, to deal with a local power struggle. Shawar, the vizier to the local caliph al-Adid, had been driven from Egypt by a rival, and requested help from Nur ad-Din. Saladin played an important role in a crucial battle between the rival forces, feigning a retreat to draw the enemy into a compromised position.

In 1169, Saladin was named vizier of the Fatimid Caliphate. He was the target of an assassination attempt organized by a rival, but his chief of intelligence warned him so that he was able to foil the plan and have the person behind it killed. The next day, 50,000 Black African soldiers revolted against his rule, which he managed to quell.

I've just recently shared the results of the Battle of Hattin and Saladin's treatment of Guy of Lusignan. Shortly after that episode, however, he faced the Western adversary whose encounters with Saladin brought the man to awareness of all Europeans. Tomorrow we'll talk about the Third Crusade and the arrival of King Richard I of England, called Lionheart.

Guy and Saladin

After the disastrous Battle of Hattin, when Guy of Lusignan overestimated his ability to counter Saladin's encroachment on territory controlled by Crusaders, Guy and a few of his noble companions were brought to Saladin's tent.

Mindful that Guy—however Saladin may have disagreed with his politics or presence in the Near East—was a king, Saladin treated him with respect. Saladin offered Guy a goblet of water, a sign that he was to be treated with hospitality as a guest. Guy tried to pass the goblet to his companion, Raynald of Châtillon, but Saladin stopped him, stating that Raynald was not being offered the same respect as a guest.

In the past, Raynald had provoked Saladin with military skirmishes against the Saracens at a time when the previous king of Jerusalem, Baldwin IV, had made a truce with Saladin. Saladin now declared Raynald an oath-breaker, and would not treat him with respect. (Raynald had acted with Guy as well, at a time when Guy had been made regent on Baldwin's behalf, but Guy was now a king.)

Raynald haughtily replied to Saladin's accusation by saying "kings have always acted thus." Saladin offered him a chance to convert to Islam, but Raynald refused. Saladin took his sword and beheaded Raynald then and there. At the sight of the corpse, Guy went to his knees, but Saladin raised him up, assuring him that "A king does not kill a king." The illustration is by a 17th-century Dutch painter, Jan Lievens, showing the two men, a smiling Saladin and a downcast Guy in golden chains.)

This took place in 1187. Guy was taken prisoner, and his wife, Sibylla, was left to defend Jerusalem. Unfortunately, Jerusalem fell into Saladin's hands on 2 October. Sibylla begged Saladin to release her husband from prison, which he did. The two were rejoined and went to Tyre, the only city still controlled by Christians, thanks to the efforts of Conrad of Montferrat (Sibylla had been married to William of Montferrat, Conrad's older brother, who died years earlier from malaria).

Conrad refused the pair entry, so Guy camped outside the city awhile and later began the Siege of Acre, anticipating Richard the Lionheart's arrival with the Third Crusade. Unfortunately, Queen Sibylla and their two daughters died during an 1190 epidemic; with the queen's passing, Guy's claim to the kingship passed as well. There was another popular claimant for the throne, and Richard Lionheart weighed in as well, but before we get to that, I'd like to give Saladin some proper recognition. He has been a part of the blog for many posts, but we haven't looked at the man himself.

Next time...

Guy of Lusignan

Guy of Lusignan (c. 1150 – 18 July 1194), who married Sibylla of Jerusalem (twice!) in yesterday's post,  has been mentioned before in his role as King of Jerusalem. To be put in the position to become king, he must have had some significance prior to that point, so let's look at his earlier life.

He was originally from a noble family in Poitou. Poitou was part of Henry II's possessions on the continent, overseen by his son, Richard I "Lionheart." Guy and his brothers in 1168 attempted to capture Eleanor of Aquitaine for ransom. They failed, but managed to capture William Marshal (then only in his 20s and not yet risen to prominence). Eleanor ransomed William, but Richard banished the brothers.

The brothers wound up in the Holy Land. Aimery went there first, settling in the Kingdom of Jerusalem and marrying Eschiva of Ibelin, whose father attempted to become King of Jerusalem as Baldwin IV was failing (seen in yesterday's post). Guy came to Jerusalem sometime between 1173 and 1180, joining his brother in Jerusalem.

King Baldwin IV and his mother, Agnes of Courtenay, welcomed and supported Guy. He was made Agnes's constable in Jaffa, and then appointed by Baldwin to be constable of the kingdom. There were rumors that he was having an affair with Agnes, who was 14 years older than Guy, but they were likely designed by others to discredit him because of his growing influence.

His hasty marriage to Baldwin's sister, Sibylla, was designed to stave off the attempt of Raymond III of Tripoli to take over the Kingdom of Jerusalem and marry her off to Raymond's chosen candidate, Baldwin of Ibelin, Guy's brother's father-in-law. The marriage was likely a happy one (see below), and produced two daughters, Alix and Maria. Sibylla's son by her earlier marriage to William of Montferrat died young, so Sibylla and Guy ruled as Queen and King of Jerusalem.

Before they were crowned, however, there were members of the court that disapproved of Guy. They convinced Sibylla to annul the marriage if she wished to be crowned. She agreed, on the condition that she be allowed to choose her next husband. The court agreed, the annulment took place, the coronation took place, and then Sibylla chose her next husband: Guy of Lusignan. She had outfoxed the court for an arrangement that obviously pleased her.

As a war leader, Guy was a failure. In an attempt to prevent the growing encroachment of Saladin on the Kingdom of Jerusalem, Guy marched with the army to the disastrous Battle of Hattin, in which the army was destroyed completely. Saladin's men killed almost everyone, sparing Guy and a few others. The few were taken to Saladin's tent where, well, good and bad things happened. I'll share the gory details tomorrow.

Replacing Baldwin

I've written many times before about the importance of marriages in noble families, forging alliances with other powerful families through marriage. In the case of Baldwin IV, King of Jerusalem, finding a husband for his sister was even more crucial, because he needed to secure the succession, and he wasn't going to get an heir himself.

Baldwin had leprosy, which did not stop him from trying to be an effective king, but it meant marriage and procreation was out of the question. The best route was his sister, Sibylla. She had already been married, to William of Montferrat, and had a son named Baldwin, but William died from malaria. Sibylla herself was in the line of succession, but they wanted to make sure it would last beyond her.

Baldwin himself had become ill when visiting William, and although he survived for several more years, it became important to make sure Sibylla had a husband who could help raise her son to be the next king, and who could be trusted to perform as regent for that son so that Baldwin could safely abdicate, since he was becoming increasingly unable to perform his duties.

The High Court wanted her to marry Duke Hugh III of Burgundy, who was now a vassal of King Philip II of France after Philip invaded Burgundy. Baldwin was so desperate to get Sibylla married that he sent a message to Philip, empowering him to choose another suitor if Hugh refused. Hugh accepted, and intended to sail to Jerusalem in early 1180 for an Easter wedding. Unfortunately, internal strife in France prevented Hugh from leaving.

William of Tyre, who had helped raise Baldwin IV and wrote a history of the lands controlled by the Crusades, recorded that Count Raymond III of Tripoli and Prince Bohemond III of Antioch set out for Jerusalem, sensing Baldwin's weakness and looking to usurp his throne. There is a belief that Raymond's intent was to force Baldwin to marry Sibylla to Baldwin of Ibelin, an important noble and close friend of Raymond, then force Baldwin to abdicate.

Their plan was foiled when Sibylla hastily married Guy of Lusignan, a French knight from Poitou, in 1180. (The illustration is of their marriage.) (His older brother, Aimery of Lusignan, had married the daughter of Baldwin of Ibelin, which would have made family gatherings awkward.) Guy became, by marriage, Count of Jaffa and Ascalon and bailiff of Jerusalem.

In 1182, with his health declining, King Baldwin declared Guy regent, but doubts about how Guy and Raynald of Châtillon provoked Saladin with whom Baldwin had a truce disillusioned Baldwin, and he tried to have the marriage annulled. Baldwin died in 1185, having become blind and lame in his final years. Sibylla's son became Baldwin V, but died within the year.

The High Court agreed that she should be queen, but only on the condition that she would annul the marriage to Guy. Sibylla agreed, on the condition that she be allowed to choose her next husband. The marriage was annulled, Sibylla was crowned Queen of Jerusalem in Summer 1186, and she chose as her husband ... Guy of Lusignan, who was crowned King of Jerusalem in September 1186.

Guy has been mentioned a few times before, and I'd like to tell you a little more about his life before and after becoming King of Jerusalem.

The Leper Warrior

Although Baldwin IV of Jerusalem was confirmed to have leprosy, he was still the only viable candidate to succeed his father, Amalric, as King of Jerusalem. (The illustration shows his coronation.) He did everything he could as king, even going to war, despite the fact that the lack of sensation in his right arm and hand meant learning to guide a horse with his knees.

Jerusalem was essentially surrounded by the forces of the great sultan and warrior Saladin (c.1137 - 1193), with whom there was an unsteady truce. While Saladin himself was in Aleppo, Baldwin planned an attack on Egypt. Baldwin refused to stay behind, and planned to go to war himself.

Baldwin married his sister, Sibylla, to William of Montferrat, and named William count of Jaffa and Ascalon. In April 1177, Baldwin visited William in Ascalon, who had succumbed to malaria. Baldwin also fell ill. William died in June. Baldwin, still ill, could not command the army in the planned attack on Egypt. He had himself carried from Ascalon to Jerusalem in a litter. He handed the regency and leading of the army to Raynald of Châtillon, Prince of Antioch. Raynald's step-daughter had married Emperor Manuel I Komnenos in 1161, and Raynald was a link to the Byzantine Empire, whose navy would be helpful in the Egypt campaign.

On 18 November 1177, Saladin chose to attack Baldwin's territory in Ascalon. Baldwin rode out himself to Ascalon, but Saladin's superior numbers caused him to retreat. He sent a message to Gaza, where the Templar Knights were fighting, requesting their aid. Once the Templars arrived, Baldwin's army (with the king at the forefront) and the Templars soundly defeated Saladin's forces, killing his bodyguard and forcing Saladin to flee.

Baldwin did not fare so well at a future skirmish, however. In the spring of 1179, Saladin's nephew led a force to investigate reports that Baldwin was "stealing sheep." Baldwin was knocked off his horse and, unable to climb back on a horse without help, was carried to safety on a knight's back.

Before the death of William of Montferrat, Sibylla had become pregnant. She had given birth to a son, named Baldwin, and it seemed likely that he was going to be his uncle's successor. In fact, Baldwin IV was probably looking to abdicate, given his worsening health. To have his nephew raised properly, however, it was important to find Sibylla a new husband, one that brought good political connections and could be trusted to raise the next King of Jerusalem. There were those who were aware of the importance of Sibylla's next husband, and wanted that role for themselves. Tomorrow we'll look at the claimants, the winner, and Baldwin's departure from the public stage.

The Leper King

When William of Tyre was asked by King Amalric of Jerusalem to raise and tutor his son, Baldwin (1161 - 1185), he noticed something unusual, and ultimately disturbing. When he played with the other children, and the rough-and-tumble of kids involved pinching each other, Baldwin did not cry like the other children did. His right arm seemed impervious to the pain. (The illustration is from a French translation in the 1250s of a history by William of Tyre.)

Baldwin's riding teacher realized he did not have sensation in his right hand, and so learning to ride a horse was more difficult; Baldwin learned to control the horse with his knees. An obvious source of this problem was leprosy, but without any of the physical signs, they were reluctant to declare leprosy, since that would stigmatize the prince.

According to William, Baldwin had an excellent memory and was a quick learner, though he stuttered. His father was concerned about the boy's future and the succession. He wanted to marry Baldwin's sister, Sibylla, to Count Stephen I of Sancerre, who was chosen to be regent if Amalric died before Baldwin had attained his majority. The couple might have been also considered by Amalric to be a suitable heir to the throne of Jerusalem instead of Baldwin. Unfortunately, the match did not take place, and then Amalric died from dysentery on 11 July 1174.

The High Court met to consider the succession. Baldwin's limitation was known, but with no visible sign yet of leprosy, he was by default the heir and was crowned a few days after his father's death, on the 15th, which happened to be the 75th anniversary of the seizing of Jerusalem by the First Crusade.

Raymond III of Tripoli, a cousin of Amalric, was chosen as regent (after the man who wanted to be regent, the seneschal Miles of Plancy, was murdered in October having failed to get the cooperation of the military). Raymond made William of Tyre Chancellor, but did not replace the seneschal. When Baldwin turned 15 in 1176, Raymond returned to Tripoli.

By that time it was clear that Baldwin had leprosy. The condition advanced rapidly, affecting his limbs and his face, turning his once-good looks into a demeanor difficult to look at. As a confirmed leper, he was not allowed to marry or have children. Lepers were often segregated, but he remained on the throne. Marrying Sibylla to ensure a dynastic succession became a priority, but that becomes a long story in its own right.

Despite the leprosy, Baldwin still fought when necessary. Tomorrow I'll tell you about when Baldwin went to war.

William of Tyre

The First Crusade founded several Christian territories in the East. In order of their founding, they were the County of Edessa, the Principality of Antioch, the Kingdom of Jerusalem, and the County of Tripoli.

The Kingdom of Jerusalem's first ruler was Godfrey of Bouillon. He and his successors expanded the borders of their kingdom, covering approximately where Israel, Palestine, and Lebanon are today.

This included the city of Tyre, the birthplace of William II of Tyre c.1130. Though growing up in Jerusalem, he went back to Europe to study Liberal Arts and canon law in the universities (where he knew a man named Hilary who studied Classical literature while William was there). He studied theology in Paris under Peter Lombard (whose writings became the standard for theological education) and Bologna (probably around the same time as Peter of Blois, who was the same age).

William came back to Jerusalem in 1165, where King Amalric I appointed him ambassador to the Byzantine Empire, and sent Amalric's son, the future king Baldwin IV, to live with and be tutored by William. Baldwin had been born in 1161, so was quite young. Over time, William was to notice something very different about the boy (but more on that later).

When Amalric died in 1174, William became Chancellor to the still-very-young Baldwin, appointed by the regent, Raymond III of Tripoli. William was also made Archbishop of Tyre. In 1179, William led the Jerusalem delegation to the Third Lateran Council, called by Pope Alexander, that declared education should be made free to those who could not afford it, and that expanded the Truce of God.

William also wrote. His account of the Third Lateran and a history of the Islamic states have not survived, but his Latin work called alternately Historia rerum in partibus transmarinis gestarum ("History of Deeds Done Beyond the Sea") or Historia Ierosolimitana ("History of Jerusalem") was translated into French soon after his death and then into other languages, so has survived.

William's status was connected to his relationship with the king. There had been a brief regency after Amalric died, and Baldwin did not become king in his own right until 1176. There was some debate about his accession to the throne, but he was the only appropriate option at the time. What was the cause of the concern? It had been clear since his childhood that there was something different about him, something wrong, actually, and it would not necessarily prevent him from being king, but it would prevent him from extending the dynasty.

Tomorrow we'll look at Baldwin IV and the sad case of his illness that William noticed even when Baldwin was a child—especially when he was a child.

The Poet Hilarius

In yesterday's post on Eve of Wilton I mentioned that much of what we learn about her comes from the writing of Hilary the Englishman. He studied under Peter Abelard c. 1125 in the Champagne area of France. He also seems to have traveled around, at least to Angers in Anjou because of a poem entitled "To a Boy of Anjou."

A single manuscript of verses exists in the Bibliothèque Nationale in Paris. Hilary wrote three rhyming miracle plays in mixed Latin and French. One, "The Play of the Image of St Nicholas," tells of a Muslim invasion that slaughters everyone they find but cannot harm a single man praying before an image of St. Nicholas.

Most of the poems included in the manuscript are addressed to young boys, possibly erstwhile pupils of Hilary. In "To a Boy of Anjou," Hilary begins:

Beautiful and singular boy,

Kindly inspect, I implore you,

These writings which are sent by your admirer;

Look at them, read them, and profit by what you read.

Prostrate at your knees,

On bended knee, with clasped hands,

As one of your suppliants,

I spare neither tears nor prayers.

I am afraid to speak face to face;

Speech escapes me, I am held speechless,

So I admit my sickness in writing,

Confident that I shall merit healing.

Enough, wretch! I barely bore it

When I tried to hide my love;

Now that I can no longer dissemble,

I finally extend my hands, bound together.

As a patient I demand a doctor,

Holding out my hands in supplication.

You alone have the only medication;

Therefore save me, your clerk.

Since they all profess the beauty of their subjects and his longing for them, Hilary became popular in modern scholarly LGBT circles.

William of Tyre mentioned a Hilary at Orléans c.1150 with whom William was reading Classical literature. This Hilary often gets offered as a possible additional appearance of Hilary the Englishman. This seems unlikely, because what little we know of this other Hilary is that he was connected to northern Italy and wrote in Latin and Italian. I've made one mention of William of Tyre before, but there is a lot more to say about the man who was an archbishop, a chronicler, and a European born in Jerusalem. See you next time.

Eve of Wilton

Goscelin of Canterbury was a monk and writer of hagiographies, producing (among others) one of Saint Edith of Wilton while he was chaplain to the nuns of Wilton Abbey. He did not know her personally, having been born years after Edith died. There was, however, a young nun of Wilton whom he clearly knew very well and for whom he wrote something special.

Eve of Wilton (c.1058 - c.1125) was given to Wilton Abbey as a child by her Danish father when she was about seven years old, eventually becoming a Benedictine nun. Goscelin was the chaplain at the time, and seems to have taken a special interest in her.

She left the Abbey when she was 22, going to Normandy and Chalonnes-sur-Loire in the Anjou region. Apparently, Goscelin was unaware of her departure, and was bothered that he was not consulted on her change of venue. She became an anchoress, living in a small cell with a single window through which books and food were passed for her.

Goscelin was moved to write a book for her, the Liber confortatorius ("Book of Consolation"). It starts out:

O my soul, dearer to me than the light, your Goscelin is with you, in the inseparable presence of the soul. He is with you, undivided, in his better part, that part with which he was allowed to love you, that part which cannot be hindered by any physical distance. ... Since your soul mate cannot and does not deserve to visit you in the flesh, he now seeks you out with anxious letters and long laments. ...

God's provident mercy has afforded us the consolation that, though distant in space, we can be present to each other in faith and in writing. Despite these torments of separation, which I deserved because of my crimes [italics are mine], a letter shuttling back and forth can reconnect us and keep us warm.

You have relinquished me and banished me from your sight, but your love will be able to see me in your reading and to take in my voice and my sighing words, using your eyes for ears ... Therefore do not think me cut off from you. 

The second paragraph's "which I deserved because of my crimes" suggests an Abelard and Heloise situation, an improper relationship between a male mentor and a female mentee in a religious setting. The Liber seems to be a guide for anchoresses, predating the Ancrene Wisse by several decades, but describes their relationship in a way that has caused modern readers to describe it as a "love letter."

The two never met again, and Goscelin encourages anyone finding the book to somehow get it to her.

We don't know if Eve ever saw the book written for her. Her life as an anchoress took an unusual turn. Anchoresses and anchorites usually stayed in their cell until death, but Eve forsook the anchoress life to live with a former monk named Hervé. This was highly unexpected, but we are told they were given approval by an abbot, Geoffrey of Vendôme.

The story of her on the continent was written about by an English poet called Hilary the Englishman. I want to talk about him next time.

Goscelin of Canterbury

In some ways, this is an extension of yesterday's post on the Politics of Saints, because Goscelin—our chief source of information on Edith of Wilton—was likely writing partly from belief and partly from the desire for financial benefit. Not financial benefit for him, of course—he was a Benedictine monk—but benefit to Wilton Abbey (shown, now a manor), for whose nuns he was chaplain. His writing elevated the status of the Abbey since it was the home of Edith of Wilton and her relics.

Goscelin (c.1040 - c.1106) may have been Fleming by birth. He became a monk at St. Bertin's in Saint-Omer in France before traveling to England and joining the household of Herman, Bishop of Ramsbury. (Some of this information comes from William of Malmesbury, some from Goscelin himself.) He probably arrived after the Norman Conquest in 1066.

He became secretary to the bishop and chaplain to the nuns. He was known for writing hagiographies—lives of saints—and these were always designed to put the saint's life in the best possible light. There is no doubt that he faithfully portrayed in his life of Saint Edith what the legends of Wilton Abbey said about her, but the tales of her visions as she appeared to others and urged her own canonization are suspect, as are the few miracles around her relics. He may also have written to please the rulers who believed in her.

After the bishop's death in 1078, his successor was not someone whom Goscelin respected. Osmund of Sées was a Norman, coming in with William of Normandy, and Goscelin for whatever reason did not approve of him. Goscelin traveled around after that, writing hagiographies of various saints. He wrote an account of translating (moving) the relics of St. Augustine in 1091, and dedicated the work to Anselm.

One of his writings was not a hagiography but a book of advice to a young woman at Wilton. He wrote this book not knowing if she would ever see it. The unusual circumstance, the book, and the young girl, will be tomorrow's topic.

The Politics of Saints

After Edith of Wilton died (c.984), her canonization was a slow process, taking 13 years (slow for the time; canonization these days in the Roman Catholic Church has more stringent requirements). One of the issues may have been that, although she chose to remain in Wilton Abbey her whole life, and at the age of two chose religious objects over fine clothing and jewelry, her life was not the same as a humble servant of God.

She wore clothing befitting a princess, had a special metal container for heating bath water, and a collection of exotic animals provided by her father, King Edgar, and others. She also kept contact with her father that enabled her to use his influence in various ways. Goscelin of Canterbury wrote that her influence with her father was so profound that people from other countries and Rome would visit her, bringing her gifts for her growing zoo and asking for help with the king.

Christianity and politics were deeply entwined: kings were believed to rule by divine right, and Christian counsel was sought by rulers. Having a saint in the family was a good sign, so it makes sense that, 13 years after her death, her half-brother Æthelred pushed her canonization with the support of St. Dunstan.

Even King Cnut, who conquered half of England from Æthelred's son, Edmund II, supported her sainthood, perhaps as a way to ingratiate himself to the Wessex royalty, although marrying Æthelred's widow might have been sufficient. Cnut claimed that Edith appeared and saved him from a storm at sea.

Edith's "miracles" were mostly not of helping people with curing illness, but of appearances in visions, and often, shall we say, self-serving. Prior to canonization, she appeared to people urging them to support her elevation to sainthood. Afterward, when a Wilton nun tried to take one of her relics, a headband, Edith's head appeared to warn her off.

Of course, all of this comes from Goscelin of Canterbury, writing several decades after her death. We should take a closer look at him, next time.

Saint Edith

Imagine being a toddler, being raised by your mother in a convent, and then discovering that you are a royal princess. I cannot imagine how that must have affected Edith of Wilton (c.961 - c.984) growing up.

Her mother was Wulfthryth, who was taken from the nunnery at Wilton Abbey by King Edgar the Peaceable, who initially wanted Wulfthryth's sister, Wulfhild. After bearing him a daughter, Wulfthryth decided to return to the nunnery, taking her daughter and leaving Edgar to find another wife (which he did in Ælfthryth).

There is a later story that, when Edith was two, her father came to Wilton and laid before her royal clothing and jewelry, while her mother presented her with religious objects. Edith supposedly reached for the religious objects, displaying her devotion to religion. This story is likely apocryphal, but Edith did, in fact, devote her life to religion. It is also said that, when she was 15, Edgar offered to make her an abbess and gave her a choice of three convents, but she chose to remain at Wilton for the rest of her life.

A saint's life written a century later by Goscelin of Canterbury suggests that Edgar was a supporter of his daughter, his former wife, and the Abbey. Goscelin describes her as wearing very grand clothing at the Abbey, annoying the other residents. Her choice of these royal garments was tested when a candle fell on the chest containing them; the chest burned, but the clothing inside was unharmed.

Edith may have remained a secular member of Wilton and not become a nun. She seems to have lived a grand life. Edgar sent her two foreign tutors, gave her clothing, financed the re-building of the convent with a chapel designed by Edith, and Edith occasionally visited her father's court. Edith also had a private zoo of exotic animals at the convent.

In 984, she built a chapel dedicated to the 3rd-century Saint Denis. The dedication ceremony was performed by St. Dunstan, who predicted that Edith would die in three weeks. She did. At the moment of her death, a nun at Wilton saw ranks of angels singing in the abbey church.

After her death, there were only a few miracles attributed to her, so the progress to canonize her was slow, but she was eventually named a saint by her brother King Æthelred II 13 years after her death.

Of course the stories, especially written long after her death and relying on legends told by the abbey, cannot be taken at face value. There was a great deal of politics to be found in acknowledging certain saints. Tomorrow I want to talk about Edith's sainthood and what it meant to the king.

Wulfthryth and Edith of Wilton

King Edgar (c.944 - 975) had a few children by a few women. One of the women was Wulfthryth of Wilton, an English noblewoman born c.937 who was being educated at the nunnery at Wilton Abbey when Edgar came along. His goal was to marry her cousin, Wulfhild, who was also at the abbey. Wulfhild resisted his amorous advances—her goal was to be a nun, and she eventually became the abbess—and he chose to marry Wulfthryth instead.

With Wulfthryth he had a child, Edith, born c.961. The relationship did not last long, however: in a year or two Wulfthryth chose to return to Wilton Abbey, and took Edith with her. Although Wulfthryth had born a daughter, that did not disqualify her from becoming Wilton's abbess later.

St. Dunstan (supposedly) did not approve of Edgar's actions, taking Wulfthryth away, impregnating her, and then whatever action caused her to leave. He described penance for Edgar, who did not wear his crown for seven years. Edgar also gave Wulfthryth six estates—although that may have been out of actual care for her, not as penance—which later she gave to Wilton Abbey. When bailiffs wanted to arrest a thief who had requested sanctuary at Wilton, she was able to prevent it by her connection to the king. Likewise she secured the release of two priests who had been imprisoned.

Like Wulfthryth, Edith was raised and educated at Wilton Abbey, and chose to enter the religious life. There is a story that, when she was two years old, King Edgar visited her and placed before her a set of clothing and jewelry suitable for a royal princess. At the same time, her mother placed before her religious objects. Edith reached for the religious objects. This story is likely apocryphal, and existed to emphasize her piety by turning away from riches to religion.

At the age of 15, Edgar offered her the chance to be abbess of one of three different convents, but she chose to remain at Wilton. Edgar continued to be supportive of his only daughter, and the balance between her identity as a royal personage and her status as a nun at Wilton remained an issue. I'll talk about her progress to become a saint tomorrow.

After Killing a King

After the startling murder of Edward the Martyr, Ælfthryth's role in the incident came under scrutiny. Was she simply greeting her stepson the king and offering him refreshment after his journey to Corfe Castle to visit her and her son? Or was she deliberately distracting him with a drink so that he could be unsuspecting and unprepared while he was dragged from his horse and stabbed by her (or Æthelred's) retainers?

Or was it possibly a Becket situation, with the retainers acting on their own to remove an obstacle to Æthelred's accession to the throne, knowing this was what he or his mother wanted?

Whatever the case, the murder of a king was shocking. Kings were considered to hold their position by divine right, and killing one was an egregious sin. The hasty burial at Wareham was "unceremonious," to say the least. A year later, the body was removed to Shaftesbury Abbey. When they dug him up, he was deemed "uncorrupted," a sign of saintliness.

Contemporary chroniclers telling the tale of the murder do not name the murderer(s), which is unusual since they would be known, and presumably punished. This reticence could be explained by the writers avoiding naming publicly the person they deemed the real culprit, Ælfthryth. Naming the woman who had been crowned a queen as a plotter of assassination was a bold move.

Chroniclers might also have avoided naming the murderer(s) because they were retainers of Æthelred, and since he was by default the next king, any suggestion that he might have instigated or planned the murder was a chancy idea to put into writing.

In any case, the young Æthelred became king. I've written about him several times, so I want to fulfill a promise I made two days ago, when I said here that I would have more to say on Edgar's "middle" family, his second consort and her daughter. See you tomorrow for the story of Saint Edith.

Ælfthryth's Plans

Ælfthryth was the first wife of a king of England (Edgar the Peaceable) to be crowned queen herself. She was the third woman (that we know of) with whom Edgar had children. She had two with Edgar: Edmund, who died young, and Æthelred, born c.966.

Edgar had an older son, Edward, born c.962 by his first wife, Æthelflæd. Upon Edgar's death in July 975, the question of succession came down to Edward and Æthelred. Ælfthryth tried to cast doubt on the legitimacy of the marriage to Æthelflæd, trying to convince the nobles and populace that Æthelred was the only legitimate son and therefore should take the throne.

There is some additional evidence supporting Ælfthryth's claim. A charter of 966 lists Ælfthryth  as the "legitimate wife" and Edmund as the "legitimate son," whereas Edward is mentioned as "begotten by the same king."

Neither of the boys had reached his majority—and the evidence suggests that Edward may, indeed, have been born out of wedlock, but by the backing of the Archbishop of Canterbury, Dunstan, and the powerful Ealdorman of East Anglia, Æthelwine, Edward was chosen over Æthelred. An account written many decades later claims that Dunstan, seeing the opposition to Edward, pushed forward with declaring Edward king in a drastically abbreviated ceremony. In compensation, Æthelred was given the lands traditionally granted to the king's eldest son. He and his mother retired to Corfe Castle.

After Edgar's support of monastic reform—replacing secular clergy in monasteries with monks following the Rule of St. Benedict—Edward's was a very different reign. One almost-contemporary priest, Byrhtferth, described it thus:

the commonwealth of the entire realm was shaken; bishops were perplexed, ealdormen were angry, monks were struck with fear, the people were terrified, and the secular clerics were made happy, because their time had come. Abbots are now expelled, together with their monks; clerics are brought in together with their wives; and 'the last error was worse than the first'

In light of this, Ælfthryth may have been the savior of the people. In March 978 the king decided to visit his brother at Corfe Castle. When he arrived, he was met at the gate by Ælfthryth and some retainers. Some sources say he was offered a cup by his step-mother to quench his thirst after the ride. He was then pulled from the horse and stabbed by her retainers. It is said his foot was caught in the stirrup, and that his horse bolted and he wa dragged for some distance.

He was 16 years old. The body was buried quickly somewhere nearby. We'll talk about the immediate aftermath tomorrow.

Edgar's Families

King Edgar the Peaceable was known to have three consorts, one or two of whom he might even have married. Two of his sons went on to become kings of England themselves.

The first woman with whom he "consorted" and married was Æthelflæd Eneda ("The White Duck"). An 11th-century scholar named Eadmer wrote a Life of St. Dunstan in which he relates that she was the legitimate wife of Edgar by 957-959, and that she died "a few years later." The two had a son, Edward, born c.962.  Edgar was known to have relations with two others not long after 962, so Æthelflæd may have died not long after Edward's birth.

Edgar next (or concurrently) consorted with Wulfthryth of Wilton in the early 960s, but by 964 was married to Ælfthryth. By Wulfthryth he had a daughter, Edith of Wilton, who was born c.961 (yes, before the birth of the son, Edward). The story goes that Edgar took Wulfthryth out of the nunnery at Wilton Abbey and to Kent, where Edith was born. William of Malmesbury wrote that they were married, but that she renounced the marriage after Edith's birth, leaving Edgar and taking Edith with her back to Wilton Abbey, where Wulfthryth remained for the rest of her life (more on them later).

The third consort—whom he married—was Ælfthryth. This was her second marriage; her first was to Æthelwald, son of Æthelstan Half-King (mentioned in Edgar's link above), and there is an interesting story about that marriage.

Ælfthryth was considered exceptionally beautiful, and Edgar sent his trusted lieutenant Æthelwald to see if the rumors of her beauty were true and to propose that she marry Edgar. It turns out the rumors were true, and the proposal was from Æthelwald himself, who married her and told Edgar that she was not beautiful at all. Hints of this betrayal got back to Edgar, who said he would visit the poor woman, whereupon Æthelwald told her to make herself as unattractive as possible. Instead, she set her eyes on being a queen and made herself as beautiful as possible. Edgar fell for her, and either killed Æthelwald during a hunt or simply posted him to Northumbria. In either case, he got Æthelwald out of the way and married Ælfthryth in 964/65.

Ælfthryth was from the Wessex royal line, and was the first wife of a king of England to be crowned herself as queen, a ceremony which took place on 11 May 973. Queen Ælfthryth was very involved in the administration of the realm, being an advocate in at least six legal cases. She was also interested in the dynastic succession, and looked carefully at Edgar's children from his previous women. Ælfthryth had her own children with Edgar, and wanted them to succeed Edgar. I'll tell you tomorrow what steps she took to ensure that outcome. Yes, it is what you think.

Edgar the Peaceable

Edgar (c.944 - 8 July 975) was king of England, a son of Edmund I, gaining the throne after the death of his older brother Eadwig. His immediate predecessors had dealt with Viking invasions of England, especially in the north, but Edgar's reign (959 - 975) was blessed in that there were no invasions to deal with, allowing him to focus on local matters.

His mother Ælfgifu seems to have died shortly after childbirth, so he was raised by Ælfwynn, the wife of Æthelstan Half-King, an ealdorman of East Anglia, whose nickname is recorded in a Life of St. Oswald and explained as the result of the authority he wielded in East Anglia and the value of his advice to the five kings of England he served. Ælfwynn was very religious, and Edgar's upbringing was exposed to the idea of monastic reform.

His teacher in this was Æthelwold of Winchester, the abbot of Abingdon Abbey.

As king, therefore, he supported English Benedictine Reform, the late 10th-century religious and intellectual movement to replace monasteries (which at the time were largely staffed by often-married secular clergy) with celibate and contemplative monks who would follow the Rule of St. Benedict. Edgar's influence in this matter was more prominent in southern England; as yet his sway over practices in the north was tentative, a holdover from the previous decades of their independence under Viking rule.

In fact, most of the contemporary or near-contemporary sources we have on Edgar come from accounts of the Benedictine Reform movement—logical, since literate clergy were the likeliest sources of writing and recording at the time. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle only has ten entries that mention him.

Later historians have a lot to say about Edgar, his three consorts—one or two of which he might have actually married—and the children he fathered with them. They make for interesting reading, and we'll start those stories tomorrow.

Oslac and Eadwulf Evil-Child

It would appear, after the death of Oswulf I of Bamburgh, that Northumbria was divided between two earls, Oslac of York and Eadwulf Evil-Child of Bamburgh. Oslac apparently managed the southern part of Northumbria, while Eadwulf held the north. Their origins are similarly obscure, but circumstantial evidence suggests a connection to Oswulf: the "Os-" element in Oslac's and Oswulf's names and the fact that "Eadwulf" was also the name of a previous ruler of Bamburgh who may have been Oswulf's father.

On the map shown, Jorvik (its original name) refers to the kingdom of York. The area north would have been Eadwulf's.

Their names appear in official documents. Oslac appears as witness to three charters in 963 as a thegn, not quite the earl status that later histories gave him. Eadwulf likewise appears as witness to royal charters between 968 and 970. Still, those charters—assuming the names on the charters are the same persons as the men administering the north—show that each of them was a trusted member of the court and traveled to meet with the king, who at the time was Edgar the Peaceable (who succeeded Eadwig who succeeded Eadred, who had worked diligently to re-unite Northumbria with southern England).

By 994, a charter is attested by Waltheof, Eadwulf's successor, suggesting that Eadwulf was either deceased or simply no longer in charge for some reason that no histories mention. Oslac was banished from England not long after the death of King Edgar. Edgar's death had led to a conflict over the succession, and some suggest that both Oslac and Eadwulf backed the unsuccessful Æthelred the Unready instead of Edward the Martyr, and lost their positions because of that misplaced loyalty (Æthelred was not even a teenager yet; Edward was older, but illegitimate; hence the debate over the succession.)

Whatever the case, Oslac and Eadwulf have their footnote in history. Oh, and why the nickname "evil child"? Who knows? His given name means "happy wolf"; perhaps it was simply a joke: "happy wolf, evil boy." Or he was truly considered to be less than a good person. Anyone who knows the reason for the name is long dead.

As is King Edgar the Peaceable, but at least we know more about him, and I'll share some of the with you next time.

Oswulf I of Bamburgh

Oswulf had (according to Roger of Wendover's account) betrayed Eric Bloodaxe to help get rid of him. Once Northumbria was finally rid of Viking rulers, King Eadred made Oswulf commander of Northumbria. He had been the ruler of Bamburgh, a village on the coast, and was likely a son of Eadwulf I of Bamburgh, who had been the ruler there until his death in 913

Bamburgh was very small—still is, but it has a castle (see illustration)—and the tradition that Oswulf became commander of all Northumbria seems a bit of a stretch, but a history written a little later, the De primo Saxonum adventu ("On the first arrival of the Saxons") supports this:

Primus comitum post Eiricum, quem ultimum regem habuerunt Northymbrenses, Oswulf provincias omnes Northanhymbrorum sub Edrido rege procuravit.

First of the earls after Erik, the last king whom the Northumbrians had, Oswulf administered under King Eadred all the provinces of the Northumbrians.

The Historia Regum ("History of Kings") by Symeon of Durham also says "Here the kings of Northumbrians came to an end and henceforth the province was administered by earls." So it looks legitimate (or at least was thoroughly believed) that the Anglo-Saxon king in the south managed Northumbria through subordinates, rather than allowing them their own king.

Northumbria might not have been "intact" under a single earl for long, however: the De primo Saxonum adventu claims that it was divided into two parts after Oswald's death, between Oslac of York and Eadwulf Evil-child. Let's talk about those two tomorrow.

Trouble in Northumbria

In 947/948, the folk of Northumbria decided to oust Amlaib Cuarán, the Viking ruler who came from Dublin with his cousin, Olaf Guthfrithson, and took over when Olaf died. They invited Eric (later called "Bloodaxe") from Norway to take his place. This request for another Scandinavian ruler seems to be a response to the Anglo-Saxon family of Æthelstan continually subduing the north to keep England united.

Archbishop of York Wulfstan supported Eric, but the current Anglo-Saxon king, Eadred, came north in 948 and destroyed part of Northumbria as punishment, even burning several buildings at Ripon (a significant place, it was founded by St. Wilfrid and housed the remains of St. Cuthbert at one time). When he departed the north, Eadred advised that he would return with greater devastation if they did not get rid of Eric.

That did not resolve the "northern trouble," however, because shortly after, King Malcolm I of Scotland raided Northumbria and took captives and stole cattle. Moreover, with Eric gone and Eadred back south, Amlaib returned in 949, so one record claims. That only lasted until 952 when, once again, the Northumbrians expelled him, whereupon Eric returned to reign from 952 - 954.

Eric might have stayed longer except for a betrayal. A history written a century later by Roger of Wendover says:

King Eric was treacherously killed by Earl Maccus in a certain lonely place which is called Stainmore, with his son Haeric and his brother Ragnald, betrayed by Earl Oswulf; and then afterwards King Eadred ruled in these districts.

After this, Oswulf administered Northumbria and was loyal to Eadred and the following English kings. Northern control by Vikings was a thing of the past. The identity of Maccus is unknown. It is assumed that Roger of Wendover had access to a text with details of the death that is no longer available to modern scholars.

Tradition tells that Oswulf ruled all of Northumbria for about the next decade, so I think he's worth talking about, although we know very little about him. See you tomorrow.

Eric Bloodaxe

I mentioned yesterday that the control of northern England passed in and out of Anglo-Saxon and Viking hands until finally the inhabitants themselves drove out the last Viking ruler in 954. That ruler was Eric Bloodaxe.

Details of Eric's life are few, and this has caused the sometime King of Northumbria in the 940s and 950s with an Eric of Norway mentioned in Norse sagas who ruled the Norwegian Westlands in the 930s. This possibly erroneous conflation of the two gives us a richer history, but cannot be proven. If true, however, then Bloodaxe is the son of Harald Fairhair and half-brother of Haakon the Good, and left the kingship of Norway to rule over northern England.

At least we have evidence of his status in England from the existence of coins minted during his reign. Shown are coins minted at York with "ERIC REX" on them, accompanied by a sword.

The epithet "Bloodaxe" comes from mentions by a Norse poet writing in the 900s, and is given to him because he supposedly slew his half-brothers to ensure his rule over Norway. Other poets and historians refer to him as a "brother killer" or simply the he was vicious as a Viking raider. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle omits "Bloodaxe" and refers to him simply as "Harald's son."

Let's talk about northern England. When Æthelstan died in 939, he was succeeded by his teenage brother Edmund. It seems that Olaf Guthfrithson almost immediately left Dublin to reclaim what he once claimed. He was joined by his cousin, Olaf Sihtricsson (known in Ireland and usually referred to in chronicles as Amlaib Cuarán). When Guthfrithson died in 941 or 942, Amlaib succeeded him. He had (for a time, at least) the support of Archbishop Wulfstan of York. Edmund then marched north and subdued Amlaib (and Wulfstan), and negotiated a treaty: Amlaib would be an ally and could hold onto Northumbria.

This second Olaf, however, was supposedly not as acceptable as the first, so Wulfstan and others helped drive him out in 952 and invited Eric from Norway to come and rule them. This is where he starts minting his own coins. Tomorrow we'll continue the back-and-forth possession of Northern England from Viking to Anglo-Saxon hands.

Æthelstan's Reign, Part 3

King Æthelstan (c.890s - 27 October 939) united England under a single ruler, prevented invasion, reformed the law, and donated to the Church. He did all the things you would want a leader to do, but of course, nothing lasts forever.

Æthelstan died almost exactly 40 years after the death of his grandfather, Alfred the Great. There is no particular reason given for his death. It is likely that, as a man in his 40s who had led armies through some fierce battles and pushed his body to its limits as the leader of a country, he was simply aged to the point where his body had enough. The fact that so many king's deaths raise the specter of poison, but not here, is telling that it seemed a natural death.

He was buried at Malmesbury Abbey. The 12th-century chronicler William of Malmesbury stated that the king had devotion to the memory of the 7th-century St. Aldhelm, but there may have been another reason. When Æthelstan first was crowned, he had an older sibling, Ælfweard, with a claim to the throne. Winchester—where Æthelstan's grandfather, father, and Ælfweard were buried—seems to have preferred Ælfweard over Æthelstan. Æthelstan might have avoided Winchester as part of a grudge.

With the king's death, the Viking king of Dublin, Olaf Guthfrithson, was chosen by York to rule them. The unification of northern England to the rest of the island was broken. It got worse: Olaf conquered the East Midlands as well. Upon Olaf's death in 941, Æthelstan's half-brother Edmund managed to regain control of the midlands in 942 and York in 944, but that victory was short-lived. Edmund died in May 946, and the Vikings once again took control of York.

I once wrote of Æthelstan as the Forgotten King. The truth is that we have little source material about his life. William of Malmesbury wrote about him long after his death, and his account is considered unreliable, but some historians argue that William must have had access to some lost biography. Still, the charters and coins give evidence of a very active king. Also, the illustration in yesterday's post was made in Æthelstan's lifetime, making his likeness one of the earliest contemporary portraits of an English king in existence.

Speaking of York: northern England swayed back and forth from Anglo-Saxon to Viking hands. Anglo-Saxon rule did not become permanent until the northerners decided to drive out their Viking rule themselves. Tomorrow we'll start the story of that Viking ruler, Eric Bloodaxe.

Æthelstan's Reign, Part 2

Like his grandfather Alfred the Great (and to a lesser extent his father, Edward the Elder), Æthelstan had close ties to the Church.

He not only made bishops out of some of his close friends, but also made friends out of bishops and priests who were welcome at royal feasts and who were invited into the assemblies where he heard disputes and made decrees.

Æthelstan was a great collector of holy relics, and showed great respect to shrines. When he invaded Scotland in 934, he took along 18 bishops. When he reached the market town of Chester-le-Street, he paid his respects to the shrine of St. Cuthbert, presenting gifts including a stole and maniple for use of the priests who maintained the shrine. (This was before Cuthbert's final resting place at Durham Cathedral.)

His interest in relics was described as þæt he mid þam gewytendlicum madmum, þa unateoridenlican madmas begitan sceolde, Old English for "that he should use his ‘transitory treasures’ to obtain ‘everlasting ones'." The idea was that venerating and preserving these holy relics would help him get into Heaven, so he sent men out to find them. Keepers of shrines also sent him some.

He donated to churches, but did not found as many as the later legends suggest. His reputation in this area seems to have exceeded the evidence that some churches were founded during his reign as they believe in their local histories. Æthelstan also made donations to churches outside of England. When a delegation went to the court of Holy Roman Emperor Otto I with two of Æthelstan's half-sisters, so that Otto could pick one as a wife (he chose the 19-year-old Eadgyth over the older Eadgifu), the priest accompanying the delegation continued throughout Germany, visiting monasteries and presenting gifts from Æthelstan. In exchange they were asked to pray for the king.

Unfortunately, Æthelstan's kingship did not last very long after he united England, and I'll go into his final days tomorrow.

Æthelstan's Reign, Part 1

Because of the Battle of Brunanburh, historians hale King Æthelstan as first of the true kings of the English in that the country was united under one ruler. Part of that status is due to bringing northern England under his rule, despite the fact that it was claimed by Olaf Guthfrithson, King of Dublin. (Olaf was defeated at Brunanburh.) Æthelstan even purchased the Amounderness Hundred, one of the six subdivisions of Lancashire in northern England, and gave it as a gift to the Archbishop of York, who managed the region for the king. Let's talk more about the man I once labeled the "Forgotten King."

Needing to manage a much larger realm than his predecessors meant creating an organized central government. Charters of grants of land could formerly be made by those overseeing their corner of the kingdom, but from 928 to 935, all charters came from a single royal scribe referred to as "Æthelstan A." These charters provide more detail as to dates, previous ownership, and lists of witnesses.

Rather than traveling around his kingdom constantly and meeting with officials, Æthelstan instead summoned them to him in Wessex. A large number of lords, bishops, and other officials attended his meetings, which some see as the rudimentary beginning of a Parliament.

He also reformed the law. After focusing on clerical matters, he turned to citizen safety. He decreed the death penalty for anyone over the age of 12 who was caught stealing goods worth more than eight pence. Enforcement was sketchy, and later he observed

I, King Æthelstan, declare that I have learned that the public peace has not been kept to the extent, either of my wishes, or of the provisions laid down at Grateley, and my councillors say that I have suffered this too long.

He changed tactics, declaring amnesty for robbers if they paid back their victims. This produced no results, so he went back to harsh penalties, raising the age to 15 to avoid killing too many young people. He also instituted the idea of "tithing," not the paying of a tenth of one's goods to a church or lord, but a group of ten men who voluntarily swore to keep each other honest and keep the law. This was later called the frankpledge, which you can read about here and see the words of the oath here.

Tomorrow we'll look at his relationship with the Church, with whom he kept very close connections.

The Battle of Brunanburh

We saw yesterday how in 937 an alliance of former enemies came together to attack King Æthelstan, who had in the past proven superior in battle to some of them individually. The final battle of that conflict was decisive, but not in the way the attackers expected.

The antagonists were Olaf Guthfrithson, King of Dublin, Constantine II, King of Scotland, and Owain, King of Strathclyde. Olaf sailed from Dublin in August, and the battle must have taken place before winter, but we don't know exactly when. Nor do we know exactly where Brunanburh was. We know the name "Brunanburh" from the Old English poem about the battle that is found in four of the nine surviving copies of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle.

The poem, our source of information about the battle, begins by praising Æthelstan and his brother, Edmund:

King Athelstan, the lord of warriors,

Patron of heroes, and his brother too,

Prince Edmund, won themselves eternal glory

In battle with the edges of their swords

Round Brunanburh; they broke the wall of shields,

The sons of Edward with their well-forged swords

Slashed at the linden-shields; such was their nature

From boyhood that in battle they had often

Fought for their land, its treasures and its homes,

Against all enemies. Their foes fell dead,

The Scottish soldiers and the pirate host

Were doomed to perish; and with blood of men

The field was darkened from the time the sun

Rose at the break of day, the glorious star,

God the Eternal Lord's bright candle passed 

Across the land, until this noble creature

Sank to its resting-place. [source]

As the poem says, the battle lasted all day. The invaders broke ranks and fled, and Æthelstan's men pursued them. Olaf sailed back to Dublin and Constantine fled northward to Scotland, but the fate of Owen of Strathclyde is not mentioned.

The battle is corroborated in the Annals of Ulster, recording that several thousands of Norsemen were killed, including five kings and seven earls who accompanied Olaf. Constantine's son was killed. English losses were not zero: the Annals of Clonmacnoise list Æthelstan's cousins among the deceased. Over three dozen medieval texts— Anglo-Saxon, Irish, Welsh, Scottish, Norman, and Norse—mention the battle. The Annales Cambriae simply lists "war at Brune" as its sole 937 entry, but others offer detail that coincides with the Anglo-Saxon poem.

Historians refer to the Battle of Brunanburh and its decisive victory over invaders as the moment when all of the smaller kingdoms in England came together and established their unity as "England." Æthelstan is considered by some to be the first king of a united England. Unfortunately, he did not have long to enjoy this status. I'll explain tomorrow.