Monthly Blog Post: May, and Edgar's Coronation

The year is flying by, and I can hardly believe we're already in May.

In Old English, this month was known as Þrimilce-mōnaþ "Month of Three Milkings", because of the plentiful production of milk by the animals at this time of year. In this period, animals were 'dry' over winter, not milked all year round. This produced a glut in summer months, and so any cheeses made over the summer were soft, and any surplus then smoked for the autumn/winter. (There would still be a 'hunger gap' in the early spring, when preserved supplies ran out before the new crops etc were ready.)

We usually have two bank holidays in May, one at the beginning and one at the end. The first one is a fairly modern thing, but Whitsun is not. The late Spring Bank Holiday was still known as 'Whit Monday' until the 1970s.

Whitsun appears to be a contraction of 'White Sunday', a reference to the white garments worn by those baptised on that day.

In the year 973, it was an important time for another reason...

One of my favourites from this period is King Edgar, about whom I've written many times, in fiction and nonfiction. He had quite the reputation as a philanderer, which may or may not have been deserved.

King Edgar as depicted on the frontispiece of
the New Minster Charter, mentioned below

He came to the throne in 957, possibly as a boy of only 14. His father, Edmund I, had been assassinated when Edgar and his brother were infants, and was succeeded by their uncle. When he died, the kingship past to Edgar's elder brother, Eadwig. Described by most chroniclers* as a foolish boy, Eadwig gave away vast tracts of land in order to bolster support, but Edgar's foster-father, the powerful Athelstan 'Half-king' of East Anglia, helped to secure Northumbrian and Mercian support for Edgar, and for a while the kingdom was split, with Eadwig still in control of Wessex, and minting coins, and Edgar controlling the midlands and the north, and issuing charters as 'king of the Mercians'.

It wasn't a tenable situation, and in 959, aged only around 19, Eadwig died** and Edgar became king of a united England.

His epithet is Edgar the Peaceable, and it's true that there were no 'Viking' raids during his reign. He also facilitated the Benedictine Reform, spear-headed by archbishops Dunstan and Oswald and Bishop Æthelwold. The coinage was reformed during his reign, too.

The Monastic Reform was not to everyone's liking, and in its wake there was a bit of a free-for-all regarding Church land, and in fact after Edgar's untimely death in 975 the political situation descended into chaos, with land disputes, fighting, and an unedifying argument over the succession, which was resolved when his eldest son, Edward, was killed, leaving the way open for his youngest son Æthelred, to succeed. His epithet was rather less prestigous than his father's: 'unræd' (ill-counselled). 

Æthelred's mother was Edgar's last wife. It is said that he had three wives, but there is little evidence that the first, Æthelflæd Eneda, existed. Tradition has it that his second wife, Wulfthryth, was a consecrated nun who was tricked into marriage by Edgar. This story is an amalgam of several reports by later chroniclers, and it is likely that she had not taken her vows. She seems to have been the mother of the hapless Edward (epithet: the Martyr) and Edith, later St Edith of Wilton.

His last, and I think second, wife, was Ælfthryth, who had previously been married to his foster-brother, son of Athelstan Half-king. Again, stories abound: this first husband tricked Edgar into thinking she was not attractive, and married her himself; Edgar had him murdered; she duped Edgar into marrying her... Again, all probably untrue. She was also implicated by some sources in the killing of her stepson Edward, and was at various times accused of witchcraft and another murder.***

Edgar, as mentioned above, became full king in 959, but did not have a coronation ceremony until that Whit Sunday in 973. Many historians, myself included, believe that he might have been crowned earlier, and that this ceremony had added meaning. It took place in Bath, on the border of Mercia and Wessex, perhaps to signify his dominion over both erstwhile kingdoms, and happened when he was 30, the canonical age for a bishop. There was certainly an element of show. We are told that after this ceremony in Bath, Edgar went to Chester and was rowed along the River Dee and paid homage by several other kings, who now were deemed to be sub-kings. It was, by the looks of it, a show of Imperial Power, and again, the siting of the ceremony, the old Roman city of Bath, adds weight to this notion.

The really significant thing, though, is that Ælfthryth was consecrated queen alongside him. This was the first known instance of a queen consort being crowned.**** In an important document, a charter confirming the privileges of the New Minster in Winchester, it is clear that the eldest son of this union was given precedence over Edgar's son by Wulfthryth, Edward. Sadly for Queen Ælfthryth this did not stop his being elected king when Edgar died, at a comparatively young age in 975, just two years after the coronation. And she is always likely to be remembered as the wicked stepmother who ordered his killing, as shown in this image, where she welcomes her stepson to her house at Corfe, while her henchman prepares to kill him.

*One chronicler, Æthelweard, wrote of Eadwig in glowing terms, but was probably related to him and therefore biased.

** For an in-depth look at Eadwig's ill-fated reign and the political importance of his short-lived marriage, see my article here: https://t.co/uTmElKcyPR

***If you'd like to read more about Ælfthryth, please do check out my latest book, Murder in Anglo-Saxon England, which lays out all the accusations made against her, and challenges almost all of them! It also looks at the convenient, and timely for some, death of Eadwig, and challenges what is usually thought about the assassination of Edmund, father of these two young boys.

**** You can read more about Ælfthryth's life in general in my book Women of Power in Anglo-Saxon England.

I've also written a novel about Edgar's leading nobleman: Alvar the Kingmaker

Of which the Historical Novel Society said:

'Alvar is closely associated with both kings. Young, but mature and trusty, he helps protect, support and guide them and soon regards himself as a kingmaker. The novel develops his character along with the narrative. He does not have an easy ride. In love and respect he has to bide his time.

The conflicts between different factions and rival individuals surrounding Alvar’s life are convincing. They keep the drama flowing, and the women in the novel are nicely drawn, fulfilling the lifestyle expected of females at that time yet showing their individual personalities. They also have key parts in the action; Kata, for instance, the love of Alvar’s life, is depicted as quiet yet emotionally strong and open-minded.'

Well, I did say I'd written an awful lot about Edgar's reign! Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy May, with all its wonderful blossoms. (Blossom is another lovely Old English word!)

The Golden Age of Anglo-Saxon Art

Commemorating the millennium of the death of St Æthelwold, bishop of Winchester, who died in 984, this sumptuous collection was gathered together and put on display in 1984. At that time, I was a student in London, taking modules which mainly taught me about pre-Conquest history, so I popped along.

Recently, I picked up a second-hand copy of the catalogue and realised that, although I thoroughly enjoyed my visit, I hadn't really appreciated at the time just exactly what it was that I had been privileged enough to see.

I distinctly remember feeling excited to see an open page from Beowulf 

but it's only now that I appreciate all those other treasures, which I've written about so much and so recently.

The Fuller Brooch, dated to the ninth century, is made from silver, and inlaid with the material known as niello (a black mixture of copper, silver and lead sulphides used as an inlay). It depicts all the senses, in the form of a man pictured rubbing his hands, smelling a plant, cupping a hand to his ear etc, and the full length figures depicted are of high quality.  

Attribution Link (Wiki CC Commons)

The Abingdon Sword is an iron sword with a pattern-welded blade (twisting strands of metal together and forge-welding them to form intricate patterns) and it's dated to the late ninth/early tenth century. It has curved upper and lower guards decorated with ornate silver panels.

Attribution link

 As the catalogue notes, such swords were highly prized which is indicated by the frequent mention of them in wills, such as that of Athelstan Atheling, son of Æthelred the Unready. Alfred the Great bequeathed an expensive sword to his son-in-law, Æthelred of Mercia in his will.

The Regularis Concordia is a work to which I've frequently referred, writing fictional and non-fictional accounts of the reign of Edgar and the monastic reform of the tenth century. But I'd forgotten that all those years ago, I saw one of only two surviving original manuscripts. It was in all likelihood drawn up by Bishop Æthelwold and, based on the rule of St Benedict, it was essentially a handbook for monks, and it made clear that monks were under the special care of the king, and nuns under that of the queen. Read more about the Regularis Concordia HERE

Edgar depicted in the Regularis Concordia,
seated between Æthelwold & Dunstan

The Regularis Concordia makes clear that the queen is the 'protector' of nuns, and suggests tacit support by Æthelwold for Edgar's queen, Ælfthryth. In the New Minster Charter, she was described as 'lawful wife' and her son is described as the atheling (heir) whereas Edgar's son by another woman, is not.

Frontispiece of New Minster Charter

The Alfred Jewel and its purpose is hotly debated. But it has been suggested that it is an æstel, a pointer for reading manuscripts, or a bookmark. The inscription famously reads 'Alfred had me made' and the figure has been variously suggested to be Alfred himself, Christ, or a personification of Sight, as in the Fuller Brooch. Whether it represents Sight, or the wisdom of God, either would fit well if its function was as a tool for reading and teaching holy texts.

Showing the inscription. Attribution link

In To Be A Queen, we meet Æthelflæd's aunt, briefly. A gold

ring, with the inscription Æthelswith Regina, is believed to have belonged to, or given as a gift by, this aunt, Alfred the Great's sister, who married King Burgred of Mercia.

St Kenelm, whose sad, if apocryphal (by which I mean doubtful), story is retold in my forthcoming history of Mercia, has his name in capitals at the head of the martyrs in the Winchcombe psalter. 

The will of the ætheling Athelstan, son of Æthelred the 'Unready', is an important document. It tells us, among other things, that Ælfthryth, his grandmother, who was the aforementioned queen of King Edgar, was the woman responsible for his upbringing. It gives insights into the factions and friendships at court centred around the younger members of the aristocracy and royal family. Athelstan leaves the sword which 'belonged to King Offa' to his brother, Edmund Ironside.  

Another important document is the Encomium Emmæ Reginæ, commissioned by Queen Emma, a fairly biased account of her life, and in praise of the sons by Cnut, and carefully ignoring that fact that she had been married to, and had sons by,  Æthelred the 'Unready'. The mansucript on display was thought at the time to be the only surviving medieval copy.

Other important documents in the exhibition included The Sermon of the Wolf to the English,  which can be dated to around 1014. The context of the sermon is the murder of Archbishop Ælfheah by Danish invaders, and some versions of the document also record the flight overseas of Æthelred the unready. Wulfstan, the 'Wolf' referred to, was archbishop of York from 1002-23. The sermon's themes reflect the turbulent times and suggest that the English are responsible for their desperate plight.

Along with the exquisite metalwork, jewellery, charters and documents, there was also an array of Anglo-Saxon coins and strap-ends, seals, and decorative mounts and panels.

I knew, as an undergraduate, how special this collection was. What I couldn't know, of course, was that I would be using translations of the documents, and writing about the artefacts, more than three decades later.

There's to be a new exhibition at the British Library from October this year. I hope this generation's batch of budding historians makes their way to see it and I hope they still find it all beautiful, fascinating and inspiring nearly 40 years hence.

Regularis Concordia - the Rule Book for Anglo-Saxon Monks

In the tenth-century, three men worked hard to restore the monasteries to their former glory. All these men were subsequently venerated as saints: Dunstan, Oswald, and Æthelwold.

In particular, Æthelwold of Abingdon, later bishop of Winchester, was determined that the monks and nuns of England should follow the Rule of St Benedict.

Æthelwold was the author of the Monastic Agreement of the Monks and Nuns of the English Nation, or Regularis Concordia, a document with which I'm familiar because of the wording of its preface, and the fact that, in it, Æthelwold acknowledges the status of Queen Ælfthryth, wife of King Edgar, and a leading character in my book, Alvar the Kingmaker.

A page from Regularis Concordia

However, having finished my latest piece of research, for an upcoming publication for Pen & Sword Books, I thought I would study the content of this rule book in a little more detail, to find out what those tenth-century monks and nuns could expect of their daily routines.

Some of the rules are very specific: 

"[during Lent] Whenever the subdeacon wears a chasuble he shall take it off when reading the epistle, and put it on again as soon as he has finished. The deacon, too, before coming forward to read the gospel, shall take off his chasuble, fold it and then adjust it crosswise about his left shoulder, making the lower end thereof fast to the girdle of his alb."

"On those same days of Lent when the Mass is ended, the bell shall be rung for Vespers and there shall be a space for prayer. Then, in the interval while the bells are ringing, those ministers who wish to shall partake of the mixtum; those who do not wish to shall have permission to forego it."

Such detail is the stuff one imagines being drawn up by committee, and there are sections of the Rule where one can hear the provisos echoing down the centuries:

"The brethren, vested in albs, if this can be done and the weather permits, shall go to the church."
If wet, in the village hall?

Much of the Rule is taken up with such ritual - the order of service for every part of the day, and the canonical year, is laid out. "None shall be recited when the second bell has rung. After None, they shall say for the King, Queen and benefactors the psalms Qui regis Israel and De profundis...rising up from the meal, they shall give themselves to reading or to the psalms...Vespers shall be celebrated punctually..."

However, there are also rules which cater for the basic human needs: "Thus in winter, when storms are harsh and bitter, a suitable room shall be set aside for the brethren wherein, by the fireside, they may take refuge from the cold and bad weather."

St Benedict by Fra Angelico

There is a chapter dedicated to the care of the sick within the monastic community: "Let there be therefore in that house brethren...who shall furnish the sick brother with everything he wants; if indeed it is necessary, let the help of servants be employed under a careful brother." Later, it states that "If the sickness improves, the visiting shall be discontinued, but if not, it shall be kept up until the death of that brother." There are further instructions for the washing and laying out of the deceased's body. 

This rule book is so much more than a prescription for the litany. Every aspect of daily conduct is considered. Were they a silent order? It seems not:

"The auditorium is excepted from the rule of silence; indeed, it is called by that name chiefly because it is there that whatever is commanded by the master be heard; neither is it right that tales of gossip should go on there or anywhere else." 

Now, as a teacher and a parent, I know that rules aren't laid down for no good reason. It makes me smile to think that these monks must occasionally have been prone to tittle-tattle.

Safe-guarding is also evidently nothing new: "Not even on the excuse of some spiritual matter shall any monk presume to take with him a young boy alone for any private purpose but, as the Rule commands, let the children always remain under the care of their master. Nor shall the master himself be allowed to be in company with a boy without a third person as witness."

Much is said about confession, and those who are "conscious of the guilt of sin or of weakness of the flesh shall not hesitate, in their fervent practice of the exercises of the monastic state, to receive the Eucharist daily...let those who are invited to the Lord's Supper beware lest, stained with the filth of sin, they dare to draw nigh to it unconfessed  and unrepentant."

But it was not all prayer, confession and hard work:
"On Saturdays, the brethren shall wash their feet, for which purpose each shall have a suitable basin. Having washed their feet, those who need to shall wash their shoes also."

Then "the prior shall strike the little bell and all shall assemble with thanksgiving to draw their measure of drink."

Alas, this was only a precursor to more prayer and only then could they file into the refectory.

Reading this document, one gets a sense not only of the seriousness with which the Rule was supposed to be observed, but of the daily rituals and concerns of those who led the cloistered life. Hitherto, I had only known of the historic and political importance of this document, its place in the timeline of the great monastic reform of the tenth-century, its bold statement affirming the status of the King's wife, and its enjoining of her to become the "fearless guardian of the communities of nuns" and its role in placing Æthelwold of Abingdon in the history books as one of the leading lights of the reform movement.

Now I feel I know a little of those anonymous black-robed monks, who lived behind the monastery walls, who were free to "give themselves voluntarily to private prayer" but who must not "dare to enter and frequent the places set apart for nuns." 

When they were on a journey, they were not to "waste time in idle talk," but when receiving visitors they had to be "most zealous in providing every kind service in the guesthouse." Indeed, it was laid down that "wayfarers, shall on their departure be provided with a supply of victuals according to the means of the house."

I can see them now, bustling about their daily business. This little rule book meant much to the reformers, and to the monks. It's also been invaluable to me.

Older Anglo-Saxon blog posts:
Anglo-Saxon Names
Wulfric Spott: A Mercian Man of Means