Pope Innocent II

Gregorio Papareschi was a Cluniac monk who was made a cardinal deacon in 1116 by Pope Paschal II. After Paschal, Pope Calixtus II sent him on various important missions, including to the Concordat of Worms. In 1124, Gregorio as an advisor to Pope Honorius II.

Honorius died on 13 February 1130, and six cardinals quickly appointed Gregorio as the next pope, consecrating him the very next day and supported by the powerful Frangipani family. This was highly irregular (only six cardinals!), and a larger group of cardinals chose Pietro Pierleoni, whose family was the enemy of the Frangipani, as Pope Anacletus II. Anacletus was able to drive Innocent from Rome.

The conflict between the two went on for years until Anacletus died in 25 January 1138. This did not make Innocent's life conflict-free, however. Roger of Sicily opposed him, especially after Innocent had him excommunicated at the Second Lateran Council (Innocent was not alone in objecting to Sicily being in Roger's possession). Roger's son, Roger III of Apulia, captured Innocent and forced him to acknowledge the kingship of Sicily.

Among Innocent's decisions was a papal bull in 1139 declaring that the Knights Templar should be only answerable to the papacy. He established ties with Armenian Catholics and began the process of ending the schism between Armenia and Rome. He also made cardinals of several of his nephews.

The Second Lateran Council (or "Second Council of the Lateran") was Innocent's attempt to unify policy across Roman Catholicism. Some of the canons established were mentioned here. Besides the prohibition against tournaments and jousts,

Kings were to dispense justice with the advice of bishops
Lay people who did not pay tithes were to be excommunicated
After a bishop died and a church was vacant, a replacement must be found within three years
The use of bows or slings against Christians was prohibited.
Clergy were not allowed to accept a benefice from a layman that would obligate them to the layman.

When Innocent died on 24 September 1143, he was interred in a sarcophagus the supposedly once held the body of Emperor Hadrian.

The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle says that the original Britons came from Armenia, and Armenia has been mentioned many times over the course of this blog, but we've never talked about the Armenian Church before today. Next time, let's look at where it came from and its connection (or lack thereof) to Rome.

Godwin's End(s)

Godwin, Earl of Wessex (c.1001 - 15 April 1053) had played his cards carefully, supporting whomever was in power. Although English, he rose to prominence by supporting the Danish King Cnut who took over from Æthelred, even capturing and allowing torture one of Æthelred's sons when that family tried to return to the throne. Later, he worked with another of Æthelred's sons who did become king.

The relationship was rocky, however, since King Edward never forgot Godwin's treatment of his brother, Alfred. Even so, Godwin was so powerful that Edward had to handle him carefully. He waited until there was a clear breach of feudal protocol, when Godwin refused an order from Edward to punish citizens who had acted abominably. The whole Godwin family was exiled in 1051. Even Godwin's daughter, Edith, who was married to Edward, as sent to a nunnery. Edward might have thought he would divorce her.

Although out of favor with the king, Godwin still had supporters. The year following their exile, the Godwin family returned in force (Godwin from Flanders, his sons from Ireland, where they had gained the help of the king of Leinster, Diarmait mac Máel na mBó. They had so much support from the locals in England that Edward had no choice but to reinstate them in their positions, including reinstating Edith as queen.

In the following year, however, Godwin died suddenly on 15 April while feasting with the king. There are two stories of his death. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle record for 1053 states:

On Easter Monday, as he was sitting with the king at a meal he suddenly sank towards the footstool bereft of speech, and deprived of all his strength. Then he was carried to the king's private room and they thought it was about to pass off. But it was not so. On the contrary, he continued like this without speech or strength right on to the Thursday, and then departed this life.

A man in his 50s who had experienced a lot of stress might easily have been felled by a stroke. A later historian, the 12th-century writer Aelred of Rievaulx (read about him here and here), decided to make the incident more interesting. According to his biography of Edward, the subject of Alfred's death came up. Godwin took a piece of brad and said:

"May this crust which I hold in my hand pass through my throat and leave me unharmed to show that I was guiltless of treason towards you, and that I was innocent of your brother's death!"

He swallowed the crust and died.

Really? That was considered a test by Godwin, to swallow a piece of bread? Well, yes, because this was not the bread you are thinking of. Tomorrow I'll explain what was so different about this bread.

The Fall of Olaf II

Olaf Haraldsson (c.995 - 29 July 1030) started out the son of a petty king in a Norway district but rose to become King of Norway by uniting the other petty kings. He could not retain their loyalty, however. His nicknames at the time were "the Fat" or "the Stout" and even "the Lawbreaker."

His attempt to conquer Denmark brought the wrath of Cnut, who drove him away easily. The Battle of Helgeå in 1026 was lost decisively against the combined Danish and English force of Cnut, and Olaf fled to the Kievan Rus. When Cnut's lieutenant in Denmark died in a shipwreck a short time after, Olaf returned to Norway to re-take it from Cnut. His former subjects had had enough, however, and opposed him. This led to the Battle of Stiklestad, a farm in a valley north of Trondheim, in 1030.

According to the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle's solo entry for 1030:

A.D. 1030. This year returned King Olave into Norway; but the people gathered together against him, and fought against him; and he was there slain, in Norway, by his own people, and was afterwards canonized. [my emphasis]

Snorri Sturluson's Heimskringla offers more detail. He says Olaf received three major wounds, first in the knee and the neck, and then, while leaning against a large stone, he was killed with a spear thrust into his stomach by Thorir Hund, one of the Norwegian leaders opposing him. Olaf's body was buried near a river.

Some sources credit Olaf with the Christianization of Norway, despite the fact that most of what we can confirm involves fighting with other countries (and his own). A year after Stiklestad, however, he was disinterred and the coffin opened up, only to find that his body was uncorrupted—a sign of great holiness. The coffin was taken to St. Clement's Church in Trondheim.

Grimketel, an English bishop and missionary in Norway, began the process of beatification almost immediately. He likely wanted Norway to have its own saint ASAP. A century later, a cathedral was built on the site where Olaf's body was originally buried, and Olaf's body was transferred there and placed in a silver reliquary. (It's not there now: in the 16th century he was re-buried somewhere in the cathedral and the silver was melted down for coins.)

After Stiklestad, Cnut remained king for five years, leaving his first wife Ælfgifu in charge with their son, Svein. In 1035, Olaf's illegitimate son, Magnus "the Good" laid claim to the throne, and Ælfgifu and Svein fled to England. Tomorrow we'll see how things fared under Magnus.

The Town of Sandwich

So...Sandwich. Most people just think about the food item that shares its name, but it has had more history than that, and not just as a Cinque Port. Its significance as a port in southeast England helped to weave it through many events that have been mentioned in this blog before.

The name Sondwic is mentioned first in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, covering events in England from the 800s to 1154. The Domesday Book, an account of all property in England so the new Norman rulers knew what they had, calls it Sandwice. The suffix -wic is Anglo-Sacon for a fortified place where trade takes place (a town). The name means a market town on sandy soil, appropriate for a coastal location.

When Rome invaded Britain in 43 CE, Sandwich was their landing point (technically, a town called Stonar across the river Stour from Sandwich, but Stonar disappeared in the 14th century).

King Cnut (c.990 - 1035) had history with Sandwich, initially leaving a pile of bodies strewn across the beach when he fled to Denmark after fighting with King Æthelred the Unready, but then later giving special rights to the church at Sandwich.

When Richard Lionheart was released from captivity after the Third Crusade and returned to England, Sandwich was his choice of landing port.

During the First Barons War (mentioned here) against King John, Prince Louis (later King Louis VIII) of France landed at sandwich to support the barons against John. The Battle of Sandwich was part of the First Barons War, and had the participation of Eustace, the Pirate Monk.

In the 14th century, a hospital (an almshouse for the poor) was established, named for St. Thomas Becket and still standing (see illustration).

In 1660, an earldom was created to bestow on Admiral Sir Edward Montagu. The 4th Earl of Sandwich was First Lord of the Admiralty and sponsored the voyages of Captain Jame Cook, who named the Sandwich islands for the Earl. The 4th Earl, John Montagu, is also credited with the naming of a food item when asking for meat between two pieces of bread so that he would not have to stop his activities. It bears mentioning, however, that a 1st century CE rabbi, Hillel the Elder, put the lamb and bitter herbs of the Seder between two pieces of matzoh, so this concept predates Montage by several centuries. (I doubt, however, that you'd get anything but blank stares of you ask for a "roast beef hillel" next time you want lunch.)

In a more serious vein: once again, I find a gap in my reporting: although King Cnut has had several references in this blog going back over a decade, he himself has not had his story told. Stay tuned.

Saxons versus Britons

A major victory of Saxons in England over the native Britons took place just south of Chester in the early 7th century. Æthelfrith, the king of Northumbria, is recorded to have attacked and defeated the kings of the Welsh kingdoms Powys and Rhôs. Anecdotal evidence of the death of King Iago of Gwynedd suggest that he, too, was a victim at Chester.

Other circumstantial evidence suggests that the Saxon King Cearl of Mercia was involved (not sure on which side), simply because Mercia's influence and activities disappears from records until King Penda in 633.

Why Æthelfrith attacked is unknown. Geoffrey of Monmouth and Reginald of Durham, writing hundreds of years later, say that Æthelfrith wanted to find a rival hiding in Gwynedd, but there's no real evidence for this.

Bede and the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle give motivation for the attack to St. Augustine of Canterbury's calling down of divine vengeance on the local bishops a few years earlier, who did not support him in his mission to convert England to Christianity. (He was bringing Roman practices, trying to replace the local practices.)

Coincidentally (?), Bede may have been right, and here's why: there was a monastery nearby, at Bangor-on-Dee. Knowing that the battle was brewing (it took time for armies to arrive and assemble before the fighting actually started), several monks fasted for three days, then climbed a hill to observe the battle and pray for the defeat of Northumbria. Æthelfrith had them slaughtered. Bede says only 50 of 1200 escaped. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle offers a more reasonable tally of 200 priests slain. Whatever the number, some saw this as the result of Augustine's rejection by the Briton bishops. (Odd that a pagan king would strike so far outside of his realm to be the tool of Christian judgment.)

Lots of questions about the Battle of Chester remain. We really don't know why it was fought, or all the significant figures who died. Various writers view it through their own Roman Christian bias. One of them, Geoffrey of Monmouth, deserves a closer look, which he will get tomorrow.

Windsor Castle

"High above the river Thames and on the edge of a Saxon hunting ground" William of Normandy built a motte-and-bailey structure from 1070 to 1086. It was made of timber, and exists today, but William wouldn't recognize it. Today it is known as Windsor Castle. William's son Henry I was married there, after which he took up residence there; Every king and queen of England since then has used it as their royal residence.

The change began in the reign of King Henry II (1154 - 1189). Archaeological evidence shows the south timber wall was subsiding by as much as 6 feet. Henry replaced the timber with stone walls and decided to create apartments for himself and his royal family, transforming it from a purely defensive structure into a palace. (You can still see the original mound with the Round Tower re0built by Henry II in the illustration above.) King Edward III (1327 - 1377) decided it would be his most important palace, and spent an unheard-of £50,000 to expand and renovate it, starting its evolution to become the largest occupied castle in the world.

Windsor's importance to William was due to its position on the Thames. (Well, also its nearness to Windsor forest, a royal hunting preserve established by the Saxon kings.) The whole point of numerous motte-and-bailey castles was that they were within a day's march from others, making it easy to get reinforcements when needed.

The name "Windsor," which is used for the castle and the family name of the current English royals, is mentioned in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle and comes from Old English Windles-ore, or "winch by the riverside," suggesting that this was a place where goods were loaded to and from boats.

Because there is often great public interest in royal weddings, let's talk about the first royal wedding at Windsor, of Henry I to Adeliza, the "fair maiden of Brabant."

The Life of Asser

Most of what we know about King Alfred the Great comes from a single manuscript copy from the Cotton Library, Vita Ælfredi regis Angul Saxonum (Latin: "The Life of Alfred, King of the Anglo-Saxons"). We know it was begun in 893 because Asser mentions how old Alfred was at the time of writing (Alfred died six years later).

John Asser was a Welsh monk at St. David's in Dyfed (southwest Wales). We know little about him until he was recruited by Alfred to join his court for his scholarly abilities.

In the biography, we learn that Alfred decided on St. Martin's Day in 887 (November 11) that he wanted to learn Latin, and asked Asser to be his teacher. Asser asked for six months to consider, since he did not want to leave his position at St. David's. This was granted, but Asser fell ill when he returned to St. David's, and a year later Alfred to ask why the delay. Asser said he would decide when he recovered. The monks at St. David's felt the arrangement could be beneficial to them, and Asser agreed to divide his time between the two obligations.

Asser mentions reading to Alfred in the evenings, meeting Alfred's mother-in-law, and traveling with him. He describes the geography of his travels in England, as if he were writing for an audience unfamiliar with the English countryside: possible for his Welsh countrymen, whose he wished to educate about the king. He also includes some anecdotes that help flesh out information otherwise found in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle.

The biography does not mention any events after 893, although Alfred lived another six years (and Asser well beyond that). That fact, and the fact that there is a single manuscript, suggests that what we have is merely an early draft that never was finished and sent to be copied and distributed. On the other hand, there are other literary works that show evidence of access to Asser's manuscript. A history written by Byrhtferth of Ramsey in the late 10th century quotes large sections of Asser. An anonymous monk in Flanders seems acquainted with Asser's work in his 1040s-written Encomium Emma (Latin: "Praise of [Queen] Emma"). In the early 12th century, Florence of Worcester quotes Asser in his chronicle. It seems clear that Asser's manuscript either "made the rounds" or lived in a much-visited library; we just don't know where it was in its earliest existence.

We do know that Bishop Matthew Parker (died 1575) possessed it in his library, but it was not included in the catalog when he bequeathed his library to Corpus Christi, Cambridge. Prior to that, it was owned by the antiquary John Leland in the 1540s. He might have acquired it when Henry VIII dissolved the monasteries, salvaging it when their properties and possessions were being sold off.

I seem to have turned a life of Asser into a discussion of his one known piece off writing.

As a reward, and possibly to keep Asser from going back to Wales, Alfred gave him the monastery of Exeter. He was made Bishop of Sherborne sometime between 892 and 900. He may have been a bishop already, at St. David's.

In 1603, the antiquarian William Camden printed an edition of Asser's Life in which he ascribes to Asser the founding of a college at Oxford. This extraordinary and evidence-free claim was repeated, but no modern scholar or historian.

The Annals of Wales (probably kept at St. David's) mention Asser's death in 908. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle entry for 909 (or 910, in some versions; different chroniclers started the year at different dates) tells us "Asser, who was bishop at Sherborne, departed."

And now for something completely different: one of the anecdotes he tells is about a daughter of King Offa, who married a king of Wessex and became a stereotype of Disney films: an evil queen. Tomorrow I'll tell you about Eadburh.

Alfred's Improvements

Alfred the Great (849 - 899) was not an idle king, even when not battling Danish invasions to protect the shores of Great Britain.

Some of his reforms and innovations did involve the military, though. The traditional way to deal with trouble was for each small community to assemble its own men against an attack. The Danes, however, would attack swiftly a small area, conquer it, and fortify it as a new base from which to mount further attacks and to which they could retreat if their further military plan looked like it was failing. They could make steady progress across the country before a large-scale defense could be mounted by a king. After defeating Guthrum at Edington, Alfred used the following respite to plan a standing army, ready to march and strike at the first sign of invaders.

In order to do this, Alfred had to raise taxes. His people had what was called the trinoda necessitas (three-fold tax): obligations for military service, fortress work, and bridge repair. Alfred increased a landholder's taxes based on the productivity of his land. He also created over third fortified places in souther Great Britain from which he could organize resistance to invaders.

He also increased naval power. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle claims that Alfred's ships were larger and faster than ships of the Danes or Frisians. Alfred wanted to stop invaders before they reached shore, if possible.

He was also responsible for some legal reforms. He gathered together many of the laws from the past, including the code of King Ine of Wessex (689 - 726), rejecting laws that didn't please him, and produced a law code of 120 chapters with a strong biblical influence.

Even while dealing with these many "royal obligations" he was encouraging changes in education and culture. Perhaps inspired by Charlemagne's re-birth of culture, he established a school at court for his children and others. He also arranged for translations into English of Latin works he felt everyone should know. Concerned that the Viking invasions were a sign of God's wrath, he founded monasteries and "imported" monks because he found little local interest in populating the monasteries. He made sure copies of Gregory the Great's Pastoral Care went to his bishops for the better preparation of priests.

Now, calling anyone "the Great" will always raise questions about the accuracy of the epithet, and Alfred is no exception. Tomorrow we'll hear why some modern historians claim he wasn't that Great. See you then.

The Real Macbeth

Duncan I was king of Scotland from 1034 until he was killed on 14 August 1040 by Macbeth.

Peter O'Toole as Duncan, portrayed as an old man
by Shakespeare, although he was only in his early 30s.

Duncan (whose real name was Donnchad mac Crinain) was born about 1000 to a daughter of King Malcolm II. Little is known of his early life. He might have been King of Strathclyde or of Moray prior to taking over all Scotland on Malcom's death. In fact, the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle entry for 1031 tells us that when Cnut traveled north to accept the homage of Scotland

"... Malcolm, king of the Scots, submitted to him, and became his man, with two other kings, Macbeth and Iehmarc ..."

We are not sure where Macbeth was king of, but the entry suggests that he was important in his own right, although the mention here may indicate that Macbeth was subordinate to Malcolm.

We do not know much about Duncan's reign; little happened until later in it, and what happened then was not good for Duncan. Northumbrians attacked Scotland in 1039, and Duncan lost a battle against the men of Durham in 1040. Following this, Duncan led his army into Moray, where he was killed by Moray men led by Macbeth. Perhaps it was the Northumbrian and Dunham troubles that made Duncan appear weak and motivated Macbeth to become restless in a move to challenge Duncan.

Whatever the reason for the hostility between them, Macbeth's accession to the throne of Scotland went unchallenged, so it appears that Duncan had not created any intense loyalty at home.

Battle of Stamford Bridge, Part 2

The first part is here.

Death of Harald Hardrada, illustration from Matthew Paris

King Harold Godwinson of England, hearing that King Harald Hardrada of Norway had invaded the north of England and, with Harold's brother Tostig Godwinson, had captured York, marched quickly to meet him, covering over 180 miles in four days. On 25 September 1066, the two armies met at Stamford Bridge.

The presence of an actual Stamford Bridge has been disputed. Stamford does not appear in the Domesday Book, compiled 20 years later to tally all of the king's possessions in England. It is, however, mentioned in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. We just don't know where it was. The River Derwent (by which the battle took place) must have had a crossing, and there may have been a bridge then of which now we can find no trace, but there must have been something somewhere along the Derwent that allowed the English to cross it and engage the Norwegian army.

Hardrada's forces were completely unaware that the English army was so near. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle reports that a single axe-man ran to the bridge to hold off the crossing English at a narrow point, killing two score English until one passed under the bridge in a boat and stabbed upward with a spear. The delay allowed the invaders to hastily pull themselves into a defensive circle and put up a shield wall—but not enough time to put on their armor. Harold was able to surround them and attack the shield wall in several places. The battle lasted hours, but the lack of preparation among the Norwegians wore them down. Despite the arrival of reinforcements who had been left guarding their ships, Tostig was slain, and an arrow to Hardrada's windpipe brought him down, putting his army into disarray. They were wiped out by the English. It is said that, 50 years later, the field was still littered with bleached bones of the slain.

Harold took pledges from Hardrada's son Olaf, that he would never attack England again. Of the 300 ships they brought to attack England, only 24 were needed to return the survivors. It was a definitive defeat that sent a signal to all the Scandinavian countries. Harold had a right to be proud.

Three days after the battle, on 28 September, William of Normandy arrived on the southern coast with an army from Normandy. But that story has been told before.

The Death(s) of King Harthacnut

Harthacanute's death at the wedding feast
[Cambridge University Library, Ee.3.59, fo. 7r]

He was the son of King Cnut, and his royal name was Cnut II (of England) or Cnut III (of Denmark), but he is more usually known to us as Harthacnut. His parentage ascent to the throne has been mentioned before, but today we are going to talk about the cause of his death...or the causes of his death.

Harthacnut died on 8 June 1042, when he was only 24 years old. He was attending a wedding for one of his former stallers, Tovi the Proud. (A staller was a Norse official, a constable or standard-bearer.) Tovi was getting married for the second time, to Gytha, daughter of the powerful Osgod Clapa.

Anyway, he was drinking a toast to the bride when, as the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle put it:

A.D. 1042.  This year died King Hardacnute at Lambeth, as he stood drinking: he fell suddenly to the earth with a tremendous struggle; but those who were nigh at hand took him up; and he spoke not a word afterwards, but expired on the sixth day before the ides of June.  He was king over all England two years wanting ten nights; and he is buried in the old minster at Winchester with King Knute his father.  And his mother for his soul gave to the new minster the head of St. Valentine the Martyr: and ere he was buried all people chose Edward for king in London.  And they received him as their king, as was natural; and he reigned as long as God granted him. [Translator: James Henry Ingram]

The typical interpretation given to this by historians is that he died from a stroke due to an excess of alcohol.

Others think it was more likely a heart attack.

There is another theory, one which draws on a circumstance from long before the wedding feast.

Harthacnut, though young, was the center of a lot of political machinations. A history written at the order of his mother, Emma, says that in 1041 he sent to Normandy for his brother Edward so that they could rule together. One version of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle says Edward was actually sworn in. Edward had no heir—not even a wife—and his naming as a king seems strange, considering Harthacnut was so young.

Did Harthacnut have a known illness? One that was making him clearly unsuitable to be king? Is that why Edward was summoned and sworn in? One historian* hypothesizes something like tuberculosis that was causing him to deteriorate in a way clear to those around him, suggesting that they secure an heir to the throne without relying on him to survive long enough to produce one himself.

*Howard, Ian, Harold II: a Throne-Worthy King. Essay included in King Harold II and the Bayeux Tapestry (2005). Boydell Press, ISBN 1843831244.

Ivar the Boneless

Ivar the Boneless, played by
Vaclovas Kiselevicius in the TV show
"The Dark Ages"

The post on Vikings in Ireland mentioned Ivar the Boneless, which was just begging for more detail on this fellow.

He was born Ivar Ragnarsson, the son of Ragnar Lodbrok and Aslaug Sigurdsdottir. Viking sagas considered him a ferocious warrior.

He was a leader (with his brother Halfdan) of the so-called "Great Heathen Army" that the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle says invaded East Anglia in 865 and then a year later marched northward and took York from the Northumbrians. A few years later, he left England, either to rule Dublin or to go back to take up rule in parts of Denmark and Sweden.

Curiously, this fearsome warrior, who was said to be so large that he towered over everyone else, had the nickname "the Boneless." It might have been some snake metaphor suggesting "slipperiness of character." His brother had the nickname "Snake in the eye" which might suggest that you could not trust him. We are not sure of that. But Viking sagas describe him with:

Only cartilage was where bone should have been , but otherwise he grew tall and handsome and in wisdom he was the best of their children. [link]

It is possible, since he was such a great fighter, that the epithet "the boneless" (in Norse: hinn beinlausi) referred to an extraordinary flexibility, which would have contributed to his fighting prowess. Suggestions that it refers to sexual impotence cannot, of course, be substantiated, although there is no evidence that he fathered any children, or even took a wife.

Halley's Comet

Halley's Comet on the Bayeaux Tapestry

The nice thing about astronomy is that some celestial events are so predictably cyclical that they can help confirm dates in history, or be spotted in the historical record. Halley's Comet has appeared numerous times while human beings have been on Earth, and many of those appearances have been noted by record-keepers.

BCE records suggest Halley's was spotted as early as 467 BCE by the Greeks and the Chinese, but the first report detailed enough to be certain of Halley's pattern was in 240 BCE by a Chinese chronicle.

The 1493 Nuremberg Chronicles used many early sources, one of which mentioned the comet appearing over Europe in 684. The 837 approach—recorded by astronomers in Germany as well as across the Middle East and Asia—was the closest the comet ever came to earth: a mere 3.2 million miles away, and took place on 10 April. The Annals of Ulster—an Irish chronicle extending from 431 to 1540 CE—says of 912 "A dark and rainy year. A comet appeared."

1066 saw the appearance of an invading Norman army in England and the appearance of the comet in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, in the Irish Annals of the Four Masters, and later in the Bayeaux Tapestry.

Drawing and note from Eadwine Psalter

The Bayeaux Tapestry wasn't the only attempt to record visually what they saw in the sky. The 1145 appearance was drawn up by a monk, Eadwine, who was copying a psalter at Canterbury Cathedral. On the bottom of the page with the Fifth Psalm, Eadwine added a drawing and a note: “Concerning the star ‘comet’. The star ‘comet’ has a ray such as this, and in English it is called the long-haired star.* It appears rarely during the course of many years, and then as a portent.”

The next appearance of Halley's is scheduled for 28 July 2061.

*comet is from Greek and means "hair" or "long hair."

Vikings - Art Imitates Life

A new TV show started in 2013 and has proven popular enough that it has been renewed for a couple more seasons. It is called "The Vikings." Its historicity would not be very satisfying to scholars, but it is very popular with audiences.

It centers on the character of Ragnar Lodbrok (in Old Norse that would look like Ragnarr Loðbrók). The saga of Ragnar is attached to the Norse Völsunga Saga ["Saga of the Volsungs," a clan that included Sigurd and therefore inspired the Nibelungenlied, the "Song of the Nibelungs"]. It tells us of Ragnar's quest for a wife, then for another wife, and of the deeds of their sons.

Ragnar actually had three marriages (in legend, that is: the exact truthfulness of the details of his existence cannot be proven). His first was to Lagertha, a Danish shield maiden. In the history written by Saxo Grammaticus, Lagertha got Ragnar's attention when she dressed as a man to fight against the Swedes who had killed King Siward of Norway. They married and had a son and two daughters.

Ragnar divorced her, however, so that he could marry Thora Borgarhjortr, the daughter of King Herraudr of Sweden. Despite that betrayal, Lagertha came to his aid when he dealt with a civil war in Denmark.*

Even later, Ragnar supposedly married Aslaug, who was the daughter of Sigurd (who killed Fafnir the Dragon in the Nibelungenlied) and Brunhild the Valkyrie. (It gets a little more mythical than usual here.)

Ragnar became a scourge of England and France. The invasion and pillaging of Paris on 28 March 845 is attributed to him.

King Aelle of Northumbria (who died on 21 March 867) was one of the English that Ragnar annoyed.  Aelle captured Ragnar and threw him in a pit of snakes. This would have happened prior to 865: the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle for 865 states that the Great Heathen Army that invaded England was led by Ragnar's sons to avenge their father.

*On the TV show, the marriage between Ragnar and Lagertha didn't survive the first season; the writers had him take up directly with the seductive Aslaug, skipping over the more likely marriage to Thora.

Edward the Martyr's Death

Edward's murder at Corfe Castle

The death of the 16-year-old Edward the Martyr in 978 was not one of England's finest moments. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle described it simply:

“This year was King Edward slain, at eventide, at Corfe-gate, on the fifteenth day before the calends of April. And he was buried at Wareham without any royal honour. No worse deed than this was ever done by the English nation since they first sought the land of Britain. Men murdered him but God has magnified him.” [Entry for 978]

The popular explanation, from later accounts, is that Ælfthryth gave him a poisoned cup, or gave him a cup of mead to drink that distracted him so that others could kill him. One account says that she killed him herself. Her motive would have been to clear the throne for her own son, Æthelred, who was a younger son of King Edgar.

In 980, according to the A-SC, “Alderman Ælfhere fetched the body of the holy King Edward at Wareham, and carried him with great solemnity to Shaftsbury.” Edward's body was found to have the saintly quality of being uncorrupted, and his reputed holiness drew many pilgrims to his grave. He began to be thought of as a saint.

In 1001, his remains were moved to a more prominent place in Shaftesbury. Although he was never canonized, royal decree in 1008 confirmed his recognition all over England as worthy of veneration.

Then it gets interesting.

During the dissolution of the monasteries under Henry VIII (mentioned many times, such as here), Edward's relics were hidden elsewhere in the church in order to save them from destruction.

Their whereabouts were unknown after that for 400 years.

In 1931, an archaeological dig found some bones in a casket under the church. An osteologist in 1970 determined that they were the bones of a young male who had died a violent death; everyone agreed that they had found Edward the Martyr. The director of the ongoing excavation (and owner of the land) announced that he was seeking a final resting place for the bones of this English saint. There were conditions:

1. that they were recognised as the relics of a saint,
2. that a shrine would be established for their reception, and
3. that his feast days would be observed. [link]

The (half-hearted) search was on. Then an odd player joined the negotiations.

In 1979, a schism hit the Church of the Genuine Orthodox Christians of Greece. Unhappy with the current administration by Archbishop Auxentius, the breakaway group called itself the "Orthodox Church of Greece - Holy Synod in Resistance. " They contacted the possessor of the bones and said "We'll do it!" They founded, in 1982, a monastic group called St. Edward the Martyr Orthodox Brotherhood, housed in a monastery inside Brookwood Cemetery in Surrey, south of London.

In December 1988, over 1000 years after his death, Edward the Martyr's remains were formally brought to their final (?) resting place in the Church of St. Edward the Martyr, Brookwood.

Edward the Martyr

One of the shortest reigns in the history of England was that of Edward the Martyr, from 975 until 978. Edward, who was born c. 962, was not his father's choice of a successor, but succession wasn't automatic. When King Edgar died, a conflict came about between Edward and his younger brother, Æthelred the Unready. Edward was supported by two archbishops, while other ealdormen (nobles) were for Ethelred.

On of the reasons for the dispute over the choice was that, although Edward was a few years older than Æthelred, Edward's legitimacy was questioned. He was certainly a son of Edgar, but his mother's identity is not clearly reorder; one story is that Edgar seduced a nun.

Edward's reign was marred by a comet that appeared shortly after his coronation. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle claims that the comet presaged famine and many other disturbances. His father's choices also caused trouble. Edgar had reformed the monasteries, giving them more land so that they could support themselves. This meant taking land away from the nobles that possessed them. With Edgar dead, retaliation by the nobles who would like their land back almost led to a civil war. Nobles forced monasteries to relinquish their extra lands.

Edward was barely a teenager when he was crowned, and the running of the country was probably handled by others. There are very few royal records relating to his reign, suggesting either very little being done or a lot of "under the table" decisions by his councilors.

He was killed on 18 March 978, while visiting the half-brother who became his successor. One story is that Æthelred's mother, Ælfthryth, distracted him with a drink while he was visiting them at Corfe Castle, whereupon men attacked him. Other accounts (not written until later) claim simply that he was martyred, or that he was killed by several supporters of Æthelred while he was dismounting from his horse. Most accounts agree that he was buried with no honors. Later, however, his body was removed to Shaftesbury Abbey, where it became the focus of worship by many because, when they dug him up, his body was found to be uncorrupted, a sign of sanctity. A cult grew up that venerated him as a saint, although he was never formally canonized.

The True Cross

Relic of True Cross at Cortona, near Florence

Yesterday's post told of Empress (later Saint) Helena, the mother of the Emperor Constantine, and her finding of the True Cross. According to the historian Socrates Scholasticus (c.380-??), when she came to the place on which Christ had been crucified, she objected to the presence of a Temple of Venus on the spot and ordered it destroyed, and even the earth on which it stood removed. The following excavation revealed three crosses and a loose titulus (the slab on which had been written Christ's titles, in Greek, Latin and Hebrew).

She gave the Cross to the heads of Jerusalem to preserve. Cyril of Jerusalem (c.313-386) records, in his lectures on the Crucifixion, that a relic of the True Cross can be found in the Basilica of the Holy Sepulchre (completed in 335 CE) as early as the 340s. We learn more about how the Cross is treated from the account of a nun named Egeria; her Itinerario Egeriæ (Itinerary of Egeria) tells how the silver reliquary is brought out and the piece of the Cross is held firmly in the two hands of the bishop; people com forward and bow to kiss he wood while deacons stand guard. The numerous deacon-guards were necessary because someone once bit off a piece of the wood to take away.

Fragments of the Cross were distributed among the worthy. Cyril of Jerusalem as able to say "The whole earth is full of the relics of the cross of Christ." Small fragments in gold reliquaries could be worn as protection. A piece was sent to Pope Leo I (c.391-461), one supposedly to King Alfred the Great of England in 883 (recorded in  the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle). Fragments were captured in battle and held for ransom, or remained in pagan hands until re-captured.

So many fragments existed, spread across Europe and the Middle East, that John Calvin (1509-1564) wrote:

In some places there are large fragments, as at the Holy Chapel in Paris, at Poitiers, and at Rome, where a good-sized crucifix is said to have been made of it. In brief, if all the pieces that could be found were collected together, they would make a big ship-load. Yet the Gospel testifies that a single man was able to carry it.

St. Helena also found nails with the Cross. She sent two to her son so that one could be inserted into his helmet and protect him in battle, and one likewise could be inserted into the bridle of his horse for more protection. One (of these?) nails made its way to Theodelinda and thence to the Iron Crown of Lombardy.

Debates over the number of nails used at the Crucifixion* (3 or 4?) have gone on for centuries, but are perhaps moot, since besides the Iron Crown o Lombardy, nails from the True Cross can be found in the treasuries of both the Cathedral of Trier and Colle di Val d'Elsa near Siena, built into bridles at both the Cathedral of Carpentras and Milan, in the Holy Lance of German royal regalia in Vienna, and in Santa Croce in Rome. But then, you would need a lot of nails to hold together all that wood mentioned by Calvin.


*There is even a special term, triclavianism, for the belief that only three nails were used.

The Anarchy, Interlude

Before we conclude our three-part journey through the 20 years of civil war between Stephen of Blois (a usurper whom history calls king) and the Empress Matilda (an acknowledged heir whom history calls a footnote), I wanted to pause and look at what the country itself thought about the dispute. Clearly, among the nobles, there were those who chose to offer their loyalty to one or the other, based on personal preference or the potential opportunities for advancement gained if their chosen leader won the throne.

In any war, however, the greatest suffering is felt by those who are not in charge, so how did the average citizenry fare? What did contemporary chroniclers think of the events of the 20 years that Stephen and Matilda spent fighting each other? We have an answer in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, which records events (and opinions on them) in England from the birth of Christ until the end of the reign of Stephen of Blois. It turns out that Stephen had his detractors.

In the days of this King there was nothing but strife, evil and robbery, for quickly the great men who were traitors rose against him. When the traitors saw that Stephen was a mild good humoured man who inflicted no punishment, then they commited all manner of horrible crimes. they had done him homage and sworn oaths of fealty to him, but not one of their oaths was kept. They were all forsworn and their oaths broken. For every great man built him castles and held them against the king; they sorely burdened the unhappy people of the country with forced labour on the castles; and when the castles were built they filled them with devils and wicked men. By night and by day they seized those they believed to have any wealth, whether they were men or women; and in order to get their gold or silver, they put them into prison and tortured them with unspeakable tortures, for never were martyrs tortured as they were. They hung them up by the feet and smoked them with foul smoke. They strung them up by the thumbs, or by the head, and hung coats of mail on their feet. They tied knotted cords round their heads and twisted it until it entered the brain. they put them in dungeons wherein were adders and snakes and toads and so destroyed them. Many thousands they starved to death.

I know not how to, nor am I able to tell of, all the atrocities nor all the cruelties which they wrought upon the unhappy people of this country. It lasted throughout the nineteen years that Stephen was king, and always grew worse and worse. Never did a country endure greater misery, and never did the heathen act more vilely than they did.

And so it lasted for nineteen long years while Stephen was King, till the land was all undone and darkened with such deeds and men said openly that Christ and his saints slept.

Tomorrow we will conclude the tale of the period in England called "The Anarchy" and see how Matilda's son becomes the next king.

The Chronicle of Melrose

Melrose Abbey, on the Scottish border, mentioned in connection with St. Cuthbert, is historically significant for other reasons. Many Scottish kings are buried there, and a stone coffin found in 1812 under an aisle in the south of the abbey was speculated to be that of the "wizard" Michael Scot. And although Robert Bruce was said to have been buried in Dunfermline Abbey, his embalmed heart was supposedly buried on the grounds of Melrose, encased in lead.

The Abbey had a checkered history. Long after Cuthbert's time, it was damaged in 839. King David I of Scotland (1084-1153) wanted it rebuilt, but the Cistercians who would populate it picked a different site with more fertile land for farming. It was rebuilt and its church dedicated in 1146. In 1322, much of the Abbey was destroyed by Edward II of England (1284-1327). It was rebuilt by Robert the Bruce. In 1385 it was burned by the forces of Richard II of England (although he did grant them some money in 1389 in compensation). Rebuilding began again, but stalled. At the beginning of the 16th century, it still wasn't complete. That was probably just as well, since in 1544 the Abbey was again damaged by English forces attempting to force the marriage between Mary Queen of Scots and the son of Henry VIII. And of course, Oliver Cromwell felt the need to bombard it with cannon fire in the 1640s, even though it hadn't held a monk since 1590.

As well as majestic ruins and burial legends (and the ghostly monks said to walk the grounds), Melrose left us something else. Not directly though: it was found in the Cotton Library as Faustina B.x, and investigation traced its origin to Melrose.

Page for 1246, 1247, 1248

The Chronicle of Melrose has two sections. The first, covering from 735 until 1140 (the new founding), is a summary of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle and other works, including that of Roger of Hoveden. It adds nothing new to our knowledge. The second section, from 1140 until 1270, is unique. The handwriting changes over time, suggesting that it was added to contemporaneously by eyewitnesses, rather than compiled all at once like the first section.

As a singular Scottish viewpoint on events, it is invaluable. A 1263 battle between Norway and Scotland is part of a saga written by Icelandic historian Sturla Thordarson (1218-1284). The Chronicle of Melrose offers a second viewpoint from the Scottish side, confirming the fact of the conflict—if not precisely the same details. A series of mis-steps caused the Norwegian forces to cede valuable ground and, in deteriorating weather, they retreated. The monks' Chronicle puts it a little differently:

A.D.1263.  ... it was not man's power which drove him away, but the power of God which crushed his ships, and sent a pestilence among his troops. Such of them as mustered to engage on the third day after the feast of Michaelmas, God defeated and slew by means of the foot-men of the country. Thus they were compelled to carry off their wounded and slain to their ships, and to return home in more disgraceful plight than they had left it.

The Chronicle also gives us a list of deaths and promotions of abbots and lords and high-ranking laymen, radical weather and the appearance of comets, the ups and downs of political figures in Scotland and the northern English shires, and the earliest list extant of Scottish kings. It's another valuable tool in piecing together the complex history of the Middle Ages.

The Price of a Man

Murder has long been considered the worst crime in many societies. Unlike theft, or vandalism, it cannot be paid back. The only "proportional response" for avenging the death of a friend or loved one was to use the Old Testament values of "an eye for an eye" and slay the slayer. This, unfortunately, could lead to a Hatfields and McCoys situation, with death after death on both sides, an escalating cycle of inter-family murders.

But does it have to?

In the early Middle Ages, Anglo-Saxon and Germanic societies found a way to establish, as a community, a way to settle the matter of a death in a legal and tidy system: wergild (Old English wer = "man"* + gild = "tribute/gold").

The practice was first established by Æthelbert of Kent (c.560-616). The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle tells us that Æthelbert held sway over the other Anglo-Saxon kingdoms in Britain. He was the first English ruler to convert to Christianity, and perhaps wergild was his attempt to cool the hot blood of the Anglo-Saxon culture. Within a couple centuries, wergild was being used for theft, rape, breach of peace and many other crimes and misdemeanors. Wergild allowed a community to move on after monetary retribution.

How much retribution? It was different for different areas and times. In Kent in the 8th century, a cow was worth a shilling; a freeman was worth 100 shillings, and a nobleman 300. Elsewhere, a sheep might be worth a shilling, and a nobleman worth 1200 sheep. Only slaves were worth too little to account for.

Exchanging money for people had uses beyond crime. In the later Middle Ages, ransoms for captured prisoners were a regular occurrence, and money was more valuable than eliminating an enemy in a military engagement that was far removed from the emotional setting that might have led to homicide in a different time and place. The 20th century hasn't forgotten about wergild, even if we do not use it widely. You may recall the revelation that the U.S. was using financial compensation for deaths and injuries to civilians in Afghanistan. Wergild also appears in The Lord of the Rings, when Isildur refuses to throw the One Ring into Mount Doom when he had the chance, instead claiming it "as wergild for my father and brother." In his case, however, wergild created a larger problem than it solved.

*Think "werewolf"="man+wolf."