It's July already and in the northern hemisphere that means that Summer is usually well into its stride, we've passed the Summer Solstice and the nights are drawing in.
July in old English was Æftera Līþa, "After Midsummer", "Second Summer", so yes, it always feels to me like Summer is more than halfway through.
This year (2025), July begins on a Tuesday, which the Anglo-Saxons called Tiwes daeg, named for the pagan god Tiw, a war god.
If you're lucky, you can still find poppies (my favourite flower) blooming in July, and they do have an Old English name: poppig. And given that the 'g' is more of a 'y' sound, if you were to travel back to Anglo-Saxon England and point to these flowers and name them, you'd be understood.
July is often a busy time for me, and this year is no exception. On Tuesday 22nd, I'll be back at Tamworth in Staffordshire to present another talk, this time about Murder in Mercia. The setting is the stunning St Editha's Church, the talk begins at 7.30pm, and tickets are £10 on the door.
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| St Editha's (my photo, taken from Tamworth Castle) |
July seems to have been a quiet month for murder, generally, in Anglo-Saxon England, but we do have one notable occurrence...
For this we need to travel up to the troubled kingdom of Northumbria where, in the eighth century, the regnal list is more a litany of regicides, murder victims, or both, with the 'crown' sitting on so many heads that had it been a real item the metal would never have had chance to cool.
A King Ceolwulf, who'd been briefly deposed and forcibly tonsured*, had abdicated in favour of his cousin, Eadberht.
Almost immediately Eadberht needed to set about neutralising threats from the remnants of the previous reigning families. In 740 the son of a previous king was killed. It seems likely that he had been fomenting rebellion against Eadberht.
In 750, Eadberht faced an unsuccessful challenge from another son of a previous king, who sought sanctuary at the monastery on Lindisfarne and was dragged out by Eadberht’s soldiers. Eadberht also imprisoned the bishop of Lindisfarne. Other than these episodes his reign seems to have been internally peaceful and he was actively engaged in hostilities with other kingdoms.
In 758 Eadberht abdicated in favour of his son, Oswulf.
But this rare peaceful passing of the crown from father to son did not bring stability. Northumbrian politics became complicated and murky now, and Oswulf was killed by his own household. According to one source, in the course of one year Oswulf held, lost and forfeited the kingdom and he was ‘wickedly killed’ by his household near Methel Wongton on 24 July 759.
We have no further details about this killing but it is easy to build a case against one person: the man who then became king and who appears to have been the first of a new dynasty. His name was Æthelwold Moll, and it is probable that he was the same nobleman, Moll, to whom Eadberht had given three monasteries and thus, we can assume, was a member of the king’s inner circle. So it's really not a huge leap to conclude that Æthelwold Moll was a member of the household who murdered Oswulf.
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| Silver Sceat of Æthelwold Moll, struck 759-765 Image Accreditation |
Æthelwold Moll was himself driven into exile after ruling for only six years. His reign had witnessed the hard winter of 763–4, when ‘deep snow hardened into ice... trees and shrubs for the most part perished’.
And with that reminder of how harsh winter can be, let's enjoy the second half of summer!
If you want to read more about this bloody period of Northumbrian history, all the details are in my new book, Murder in Anglo-Saxon England.
