Lady Godiva - did she, or didn't she?

One of the most famous (or should that be notorious?) Anglo-Saxon women is Lady Godiva or, to give her her Old English name, Godgifu. And the thing she’s famous - or notorious - for is her naked horseback ride through Coventry.

But who was she, and did she really? And what did she have to do with my contribution for the anthology of 'What If' stories,  1066 Turned Upside Down?

First, that horse ride. The story goes that Leofric (her husband) founded the monastery at Coventry on the advice of his wife. He endowed the foundation with so much land, woods and ornaments that ‘there was not found in all England a monastery with such an abundance of gold and silver, gems and costly garments.’ Godgifu was keen to free the town of Coventry from such a financial burden, and yet when she spoke to her husband about it, he challenged her to ‘Mount your horse, and ride naked, before all the people, through the market of the town, from one end to the other, and on your return you shall have your request.’ Whereupon, she ‘loosed her hair and let down her tresses, which covered the whole of her body like a veil, she rode through the market-place, without being seen, except her fair legs, and having completed the journey, returned with gladness to her astonished husband’, who then freed the town from the aforesaid service, and confirmed what he had done by a charter. 

Except…the only source we have for the story is Roger of Wendover, a monk writing in the thirteenth century. Other sources suggest that the founding of Coventry was a joint enterprise (and none mentions the horse ride). A chronicle ascribed to a monk at Worcester, which is only just over forty miles from Coventry, written before 1118, stated that Leofric and Godgifu were jointly responsible: ‘[Leofric] was buried with all pomp at Coventry; which monastery, among the other good deeds of his life, he and his wife … had founded.’ 

It has been suggested that the documents recording Leofric founding Coventry were later forgeries and it might in fact have been Godgifu’s own lands which were used. (We know that she was a wealthy woman; possibly originally from northwest Mercia, she held lands in Leicestershire, Warwickshire, Staffordshire and Shropshire.)

Edmund Blair Leighton's painting showing Godiva
making her decision to take that ride

Along with the lack of corroboration for the story, the political situation at the time casts further doubt. Leofric of Mercia was a leading political figure. In the eleventh century, the old Anglo-Saxon kingdoms had become ealdordoms, or earldoms. Godgifu married into the leading Mercian family; her husband inherited his earldom from his father and passed it onto his son. In fact four generations of the family became earls of Mercia, the only family to achieve such a feat in this period. Leofric was described as pious, and being ‘but a moderate drinker’ and prayed in secret when his drunken companions were asleep. He was in power for over twenty years ‘without violence or aggression’. He was heavily involved in the succession crisis created by the death of Cnut, when two contenders vied for the throne. One, Harold Harefoot, was Cnut’s son by Ælfgifu of Northampton, and the other, Harthacnut, was his son by Emma of Normandy. 

At this time there were three leading earls, and Leofric was one of them. This particular game of thrones was very much directed by the two royal mothers, Ælfgifu and Emma, and was heavily reported. Had another high-ranking woman, wife of a leading and rather staid nobleman, done a public striptease, I think it would have been commented upon. One of the more contemporary records for this period, the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, is quite detailed by this stage, giving over pages and pages to each year, as opposed to one sentence summaries for earlier centuries, but it doesn’t mention the horse ride. 

11th-century depiction of Queen Emma

Much of Leofric’s political career, and that of his son and grandsons, was tied up with the fortunes of Earl Godwine, and his son, Harold (he of the alleged 1066 arrow in the eye).

Leofric’s politics differed from that of Godwine, but all differences remained relatively civil. Not so when it came to these men’s sons.

In 1051, Godwine’s earldom stretched from Kent to Cornwall. He was father-in-law to the king of England, and his son Harold was earl of Essex, East Anglia, Cambridgeshire and Huntingdonshire. And this, strange as it may seem, is the start of the events that led to Godgifu playing a part in my story. Following an incident in that year, Godwine and his family were temporarily banished and Harold’s earldom of East Anglia was given to Ælfgar, son of Leofric and Godiva. But by 1052 the Godwines were back, which meant that Ælfgar was displaced from East Anglia. He regained the area briefly, but in 1055 he himself was outlawed, possibly on trumped-up charges. He launched a fightback, with the help of Gruffudd, king of the Welsh and, long story short, got East Anglia back. When Leofric died, Ælfgar succeeded him in Mercia, but the following year he was banished again, returning once more with the help of Gruffudd and around this time his daughter Ealdgyth was married to Gruffudd. Just a year or so after Ælfgar died, Gruffudd, crucially, was killed when Harold Godwinson and his brother Tostig launched an attack on North Wales. 

Had Ælfgar lived, it is unlikely that he would have supported Harold Godwinson’s election to the throne. He, far more than his father, had reason to resent the Godwines. He had been banished twice, and both times Harold had been involved. His son Edwin took over from him in Mercia, and another son, Morcar, became earl of Northumbria after Harold’s brother Tostig was disgraced. At some point in 1066, Harold married their sister, Ealdgyth. How she felt about being married to the man responsible for killing her first husband, we don’t know.

And this is the set up for my story in 1066: A mighty Mercian family pledged by allegiance and marriage ties to King Harold, but ever-present is the doughty grandmother, who has every reason to hate Harold Godwinson and his family. The brief was also to add a twist to the tale, so I looked at this rivalry between the two families, and I ran with it...

Little more is known of Godgifu. There was a later rumour that Hereward the Wake was her son, but there’s absolutely no evidence to support this. We don’t know when she was married, but as Leofric became an earl in 1023, it’s possible that they were married as early as 1010, and that she might have been born around 990. If she died even shortly after 1066 then she might have been well into her seventies, having lived through the reigns of Æthelred the ‘Unready’, Swein Forkbeard and Cnut, Harold Harefoot and Harthacnut, Edward the Confessor and Harold Godwinson, and lived to see William of Normandy crowned king of England. 

Pious, rich - in her own right as well as through her marriage - and an old lady to be reckoned with. But riding naked through the streets? I don’t think so. (But read the story, because she remembers it differently…)

Buy 1066 Turned Upside Down to read my fictional take, or read more about the real Lady Godiva in my nonfiction books:

Mercia: The Rise and Fall of a Kingdom

Women of Power in Anglo-Saxon England

[A version of this article originally appeared on Helen Hollick's blog]

1066 - The Mercian Angle

In 1066, when Edward the Confessor died, Harold Godwineson was declared king. Yet he felt the need to ride north to secure the pledges of the northern nobles, and thought it prudent to forsake his long-term partner and marry the sister of two powerful northern earls. Why?

Let’s go back a bit...

In my last blog post I explored the history of Mercia. Readers of To Be A Queen will recall that in Æthelflæd’s day, Mercia was still a kingdom in its own right, albeit one which was fast running out of kings. Forty years later, the setting for Alvar the Kingmaker, Mercia had become a powerful ealdordom (later known as earldoms.)

And there was a new problem: the Danelaw.

However much Æthelflæd, her father, husband, and brother fought against them, inevitably some of the Danes who came over in their dragon boats stayed, and settled in the north and east. In the 10th century, King Edgar was careful to preserve the rights and traditions of the Danelaw, as well as the erstwhile independence of Mercia.

Edgar’s dealings with the Danelaw can be found in the law code known as IV Edgar, or the Wihtbordesstan Code. It has often been said that Edgar was creating something new with this code, but technically speaking this is a letter to the Danes, showing Edgar eager to respect an autonomy which was already a fact.

It is probable that Edgar became king of England in 959 with the help of a powerful group of magnates who wanted a king who would not encroach on the customary law. Edgar stresses five times that he has every intention of respecting the Danelaw. It is possible that although IV Edgar is a recognition of established fact, Edgar himself created the Danelaw, as there are no earlier references to it. In all probability these privileges were granted by Edgar in 957, in gratitude for the support given him in the north against his brother Eadwig.

King Edgar 

Although Edgar’s reign was notable for being free of invasion (his epithet was ‘The Peaceable’,) it was a time of great change. As well as this identification and recognition of the Danelaw, there began a shift in the power and influence of the nobility. As ealdormen died, their lands were given to neighbouring nobles - Ælfhere (Alvar in the book), already ealdorman of southern Mercia, gained the northern portion when the ealdorman of Chester died - until the earldoms were as big as the old kingdoms. By the time of Edgar IV, there were three principal noblemen, and in the law code he demands that:

'Earl Oslac (Northumbria) and all the host that dwell in his ealdormanry are to give their support that this may be enforced' and that 'Many documents are to be written concerning this, and sent both to ealdorman  Ælfhere (Mercia) and ealdorman  Æthelwine, (East Anglia) and that they are to send them in all directions, that this measure may be known to both the poor and the rich.' [IV Edgar 15. & 15.1]

Royal control was difficult to establish in areas with separatist feeling, and Mercia was another of these areas. Edgar was respectful of these regional differences, as his charters show - a land charter of 969 carefully states the ‘boundary of the Mercians’ - but his successors were not.

Edgar was succeeded by his famously ‘unready' son, Æthelred - who infamously ordered many Danes massacred on St Brice’s day, 1002 - and so there followed a period of Danish rule, most notably by King Cnut. Long-held separatist and nationalist sentiments remained, and now, as Barlow put it,

'The Danish rulers having no attachment to any of the kingdoms, widened the concept of England. Cnut’s plan of reserving no English province for his direct rule and his grant of Wessex to the ‘upstart’ Godwine had weakened the position of any successor who had not his ‘quasi-imperial’ power.'

Æthelred the 'Unready'

How did this situation contribute to the problems faced by Edward the Confessor in his final years?

The three leading earls were Leofric of Mercia, Siward of Northumbria, and Godwine. Of those three, only Leofric came from an old ruling family; he was the son of Leofwine, ealdorman of the Hwicce - whom readers of my novels will know to be one of the core Mercian tribes, originally with their own kings; their centre was Deerhurst and the church there was very important to the Mercians - and he gave, according to Barlow, 'loyal and disinterested service.' (Disinterested here in its original meaning, that of being impartial.)  Siward, meanwhile, with lands bordering Scotland, probably looked more north than south.

The rise of the House of  Godwine was phenomenal. Moving from thegn to king in three generations, it proved the theory of upward social mobility which, in fact, most people found impossible to attain, and which might have been denied in this case also had it not been for the reign of Cnut.

Cnut

I have some university notes in which I quote one of my lecturers: '1066 lasted a whole year.' I followed it with an exclamation mark, but I know what was intended by this seemingly obvious remark. 1066 was not just a battle near Hastings; events took a turn for the dramatic in January when Edward the Confessor died, and culminated with William’s coronation on Christmas Day.  But there were more people involved than just Harold and Edward, and the turmoil had really begun as far back as 1051.

Eustace of Boulogne arrived at Dover to visit his former brother-in-law (Edward) and Godwine was at the wedding feast of his son Tostig and Judith. There was a violent brawl involving the people of Dover and the visitors from Boulogne. Godwine was ordered to punish the people of Dover and he refused. The result of this stand-off was the exile of Godwine and his family, and Leofric of Mercia’s reward for supporting the king was that his son, Ælfgar, was granted Harold Godwineson’s earldom of East Anglia.

However the northern earls thought Edward went too far by subsequently giving preference to foreigners, thereby tightening his links with Normandy. Thus, in 1052, when Godwine came back, Leofric and Siward remained neutral. London declared for Godwine. His terms were not extortionate and so the neutrality of the northern earls seemed justified, and would explain why Ælfgar, according to Barlow,  ‘quietly surrendered’ the East Anglian earldom back to Harold.

But Godwine’s death in 1053 shifted the balance of power and the Mercian house became stronger. Harold succeeded his father in Wessex, but this meant that Ælfgar got East Anglia back. The Mercian family was now spread right across the midlands.

Death of Earl Siward - Smetham

Then in 1055 Siward of Northumbria died, and his son, Waltheof, being too young to govern, was bypassed for Tostig Godwineson. As Richard Fletcher put it, 'There was no love lost between the house of Leofric and the house of Godwine' and Tostig’s was a surprise appointment; it was the first time a southerner had held the post and he was, in Fletcher’s words, 'A complete stranger.' Now, Mercia was in the middle of a Godwineson sandwich, with Harold below and Tostig above. They needed to look in a different direction for allies. Ælfgar looked westward, allied with Gruffudd of Wales, and was briefly banished before being reinstated.

Two years later, In 1057, Leofric died. Ælfgar succeeded him in Mercia and Harold’s brother Gyrth took the now vacant East Anglia. But although the 'trouble-maker' Ælfgar had control of his father's earldom, the Godwine family was in Wessex, East Anglia and Northumbria. Mercia was isolated.

Hardly surprising then that in 1057, Ælfgar’s daughter, Ealdgyth, was married to Gruffudd. In 1058 Ælfgar was outlawed again for ‘obscure reasons’ and came back with the support of Gruffudd. Kari Maund suggested that the alliance must have begun before 1055 and that’s why he was ousted. Perhaps Ælfgar had not so ‘quietly’ surrendered in 1052 after all. 

In around 1062/3 Ælfgar disappears from the record. He was succeeded by his son, Edwin, who was a second son and seemingly still only a young man. It would seem that Harold took advantage of this and engineered the death of Gruffudd.

By October 1065, the Northumbrians had had enough of Tostig and his southern ways and attempts to impose high taxes, - the Chronicle of John of Worcester adds a story of murder and implicates Tostig's sister, Queen Edith - and they rebelled, electing Edwin of Mercia’s brother, Morcar, in his place. After the Northumbrian rebellion Morcar was very quick to get there, as if he’d been ready and waiting. As Fletcher put it: 'Here at last was a chance to hit out at the hated sons of Godwine.'

The joint northern, Mercian and Welsh forces marched south. Whilst Harold attempted to mediate, Edward demanded war. Harold would not fight the rebels to restore Tostig. Edward submitted, Tostig was outlawed, and Edward seems to have gone into a decline, from which he never recovered. Tostig never forgave Harold.

This, then, was the internal situation in 1066: a build-up of resentment between noble houses, and a brother with a grudge. Harold had worries long before William landed...

While the rest of the events of 1066 are well-established, this internal conflict is a scenario with which I played for my story in 1066 Turned Upside Down. 

The Mercians and their role in the eleventh century, and that of the inhabitants of the Danelaw, are explored in depth in my book Mercia: The Rise and Fall of a Kingdom, by Amberley.

Further reading:
King Edgar and the Danelaw - Niels Lund, Med. Scand. 9
Anglo-Saxon England - FM Stenton
The Feudal Kingdom of England 1042-1216 - Frank Barlow
The Welsh Kings - Kari Maund
Bloodfeud - Richard Fletcher
The Fall of Saxon England - Richard Humble
The Anglo-Saxon Chronicles - Ed. N Garmonsway

The Decline of Mercia - Kings No More

It's the time of year for anniversaries - William the Conqueror crowned on Christmas Day, 1066, Edward the Confessor's death on Jan 5 1066. For our collaborative project, 1066 Turned Upside Down, I re-imagined the events leading up to the battle of Fulford, in 1066, I pondered the fate of the northern earls who fought there.  My interest in this episode? Apart from an opportunity to join some wonderful authors on an intriguing project, it was that these earls were led by two brothers from Mercia. My next post will look at their careers in more detail, so first, a little potted history:

A once-powerful realm, Mercia produced such kings as Penda, who was overlord of the English kingdoms until defeated in 655, Offa, who built his famous dyke, as well as providing such memorable characters as Lady Godiva, and Eadric Streona, recently voted the most evil man in English history.

Between around 600 and 900 AD, Mercia enjoyed what historians have called a ‘Golden Age’. This began with the emergence of Penda, a pagan vilified by history, but who, Bede conceded, was tolerant of Christian preachers in Mercia. Penda, in alliance with the Welsh, slew Kings Edwin and Oswald of Northumbria, and held the ascendancy over the main English kingdoms until he was killed by Oswii at the Battle of Winwaed in 655. The Golden Age was perhaps typified by the reign of Æthelbald (716-57) who in a charter of 736 was styled 'King of Mercia and of the Southern English.' His coinage was circulated in Mercia and Kent and was even found in Wessex. Even Bede, who rarely mentioned southern kings as overlords (Bretwaldas) acknowledged his power.

Power, of course, brings enemies, and Æthelbald was killed by his own war band. Civil war followed his murder, but in the ensuing power struggle, Offa (757-96) emerged victorious. Not only did he build his ‘dyke’, but he negotiated trade deals with the Continent,  and corresponded with the emperor Charlemagne. (There was also a teeny tiny bit of murder...)

A dynastic dispute that had begun with the death, childless, of Offa’s son Ecgfrith in 796, ended with the routing of King Burgred by the Vikings in 874/5 and the short-lived reign of his rival Ceolwulf II. History has not remembered Ceolwulf with fondness; he was described in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle as a ‘foolish king’s thegn’. But Burgred was Alfred the Great’s brother-in-law. It is possible that Ceolwulf was the leader of a Mercian movement for independence against a king regarded as a puppet of Wessex. (Mercian independence, and separatist sentiment, was certainly to have significant impact on events in the next century.) Ceolwulf died, possibly at the hands of the Welsh, (he disappears from the records after the Battle of Conwy in 878) and it was left to Burgred’s kinswoman to fight off the Viking invaders.

Yes - a woman was now in charge. In the late 9th century, Wessex was not the ‘last kingdom’, fighting off the Viking hordes. Mercia was fighting back too, under the leadership of one Æthelred, and his redoubtable wife, Æthelflæd, Lady of the Mercians, daughter of Alfred the Great.

But Æthelred wasn’t a member of a royal house; Mercia had run out of kings.

Fast forward forty years, and Mercia had been reduced to an - albeit powerful- ealdordom (earldom.)

Powerful because, however much Æthelflæd and her family fought against them, inevitably some of those invading Danes stayed, settling in the north and east. In the 10th century, King Edgar came to the throne of all England with the help of the Mercians, and those newly-settled Danes, and he was careful to preserve the rights and traditions of this, with the ‘Danelaw’, incorporating the rights and boundaries of once independent Mercia.

Although Edgar’s reign was notable for being free of invasion (his epithet was ‘The Peaceable’,) it was a time of great change. As well as this identification and recognition of the Danelaw, there began a shift in the power and influence of the nobility. As ealdormen (earls) died, their lands were given to neighbouring nobles until the earldoms were as big as the old kingdoms - Mercia, Northumbria, and East Anglia, while the king still essentially oversaw Wessex.

This situation changed again in the 11th century, for when Cnut (Canute) became king, he did not reserve Wessex for his direct rule, but granted it to the ‘upstart’ Godwin.

During the last years of Edward the Confessor’s reign, of the three leading earls, only Leofric came from an old ruling family; but his place in history tends to be overshadowed by the reputation of his wife, Lady Godiva, and the tales told about her. (Did she ride naked? I think not, but that’s a subject for a whole new article!)

Leofric's fortunes, and that of his son, Ælfgar, fluctuated in direct contrast to those of the Godwin family; they gained territory when the Godwins were out of favour/in exile, and lost that land when the Godwins were restored. Little wonder that they resorted to the ‘old’ alliance, looking westward as Penda had once done, and forging a connection by marriage with the Welsh.

Ælfgar married his daughter to the Welsh king, Gruffudd, but Harold Godwinson was responsible not only for the banishment - twice - of Ælfgar, but also for the death of Gruffudd, their brother-in-law. No wonder Ælfgar’s sons, Edwin and Morcar, were slow to acknowledge Harold’s supremacy upon the death of Edward the Confessor.

Early in 1066, Harold felt the need to ride north to persuade the northern earls to support his kingship, even taking Edwin and Morcar’s widowed sister for his bride. He was already at odds with his brother Tostig, who would betray him by standing against him at Stamford Bridge, but what about the Mercians, who blamed the Godwin family for their misfortune?

This, then, was where I began my retelling of this part of the year 1066…

I won’t give away any spoilers regarding my story, but for the purposes of my Mercian ‘round-up’, well, an entry in Wikipedia on the English nobility has this to say about Edwin, Earl of Mercia:
“Succeeded by -
None.
Role abolished.”

The Mercians rebelled against the Conqueror, but the uprising was quashed, brutally, in what came to be known as the Harrying (or Harrowing) of the North. And that was the end of Mercia.

Its name lives on, though, in the West Mercia Police, and the West Mercia Primary Healthcare Trust, and although it is now slowly dying out, the dialect of the ‘Black Country’, which is based on the old Mercian language and is widely regarded to be as close to Old English as it is now possible to get. I sense that Æthelflæd, Lady of the Mercians, would be gently amused by that. She might even think it was bostin’ . *

[all images are in the public domain; photograph of Godiva statue copyright of the author]

*Dialect word for fine, good.

http://mybook.to/comeththehour
http://mybook.to/MerciaRiseandFall
http://mybook.to/AlvartheKingmaker
http://mybook.to/To-Be-A-Queen

Mercia Vs The Godwines

The story of the last earls of Mercia is linked to the powerful Godwine family. At the start of 1051, Godwine’s earldom stretched from Kent to Cornwall. He was father-in-law to the king of England, and his son Harold was earl of Essex, East Anglia, Cambridgeshire and Huntingdonshire. 

After an incident in Dover - when the count of Boulogne was attacked and Godwine refused to punish the citizens - before a meeting in London could consider the charges against him, Godwine and his family fled. His son Harold’s earldom of East Anglia was given to Ælfgar, son of Earl Leofric of Mercia.

The banishment was short-lived, however, and by 1052 the Godwines were back, which meant that Ælfgar was displaced from East Anglia. But in 1053 Godwine died and his son Harold became earl of Wessex in his place. So Ælfgar was back in East Anglia and suddenly the Godwinesons were isolated.

But political wheels turn quickly and when in 1055 the earl of Northumbria died and Tostig Godwineson became earl in his place, Ælfgar was outlawed, possibly on trumped-up charges. Ælfgar, with the aid of Irish pirate ships and the assistance of Gruffudd, king of the Welsh, advanced on Hereford where the earl, the ‘timorous’ Ralf, took flight before battle was joined. Ælfgar was re-established in East Anglia.

When in 1057 Earls Leofric and Ralf both died, it raised the question of what to do about the territories and how to deal with the Welsh. Ælfgar was a bit of a troublemaker, and Ralf’s son was still a child. In the end, Edward permitted Ælfgar to succeed his father in Mercia, while the Godwines carved up the remaining territory among themselves. 

In 1058 Ælfgar was banished for a second time. ‘But he soon returned with violence through the help of Gruffudd.’ It was possibly around this time that Ælfgar’s daughter, Ealdgyth, married, or was given in marriage to, Gruffudd. 

Had Ælfgar lived, it is unlikely that he would have supported Harold Godwineson’s election to the throne in 1066. He had reason to resent the Godwines; he had been banished twice, and both times Harold had been involved. 

Ælfgar died around the year 1062. His - presumably - eldest son, Burgheard, had predeceased his father. Ælfgar’s surviving sons were probably only in their teens when their father died. The eldest, Edwin, succeeded as earl of Mercia. In 1063 the Welsh raiding began and Harold Godwineson – who had been in charge of Hereford since 1057 – decided to retaliate. In May he sailed from Bristol while his brother Tostig invaded North Wales. Gruffudd escaped from this two-pronged attack but was killed by his own men. 

In 1064 Harold went to Normandy, where he famously either swore, or did not swear, an oath to support Duke William’s claim to the English throne. Meanwhile in England, his brother Tostig was stirring up resentment.

In 1065 the northerners rose up in rebellion to avenge the deaths of three northern thegns. They were also said to be objecting to a huge tribute which Tostig had unjustly levied on the whole of Northumbria. The rebels called for Morcar, the younger brother of Edwin of Mercia, to replace Tostig as earl. 

Tostig accused Harold of fomenting the rebellion against him and Harold had to swear an oath to clear himself of this charge. King Edward wanted to use force to crush the rebellion, but his counsellors were against the idea, it was late in the year and so they gave in to the demands. Just before Christmas, Tostig and his wife Judith left for Flanders, where her half-brother Count Baldwin gave them welcome.

The Kirkdale Sundial, with Earl Tostig's name in the dedication

At some point, probably after 1063, Harold married Ealdgyth, sister of the earls Edwin and Morcar, and widow of Gruffudd. 

In May 1066, the ousted Tostig came harrying, causing a nuisance as far north as the Humber. Edwin and Morcar drove him into Scotland.

But later in the year Tostig returned, in alliance with Harald Hardrada of Norway. Harald anchored his fleet at Riccall on the Ouse, and before King Harold could get there from the south, Edwin and Morcar had to face the might of the Norwegian forces. At Gate Fulford, outside York, battle was joined. For most of a day, they blocked the road and stopped the Norwegians advancing, but they finally gave way and their men were cut down or drowned. 

Harald landing near York (left), and defeating the Northumbrian army (right),
from the 13th century chronicle The Life of King Edward the Confessor by Matthew Paris

Though Edwin and Morcar survived the battle, they would barely have had time to regroup in order to provide any assistance at Stamford Bridge, and it is not certain whether they were at Hastings (although at least one source says they were there) but it can probably be said in their defence that they would have had few troops to bring with them, having suffered such heavy losses at Fulford.

By March 1067 those who had sworn to William included Edwin, Morcar and Waltheof, son of Siward of Northumbria. But in the summer of 1068 Edwin and Morcar left the court and went north to join an ill-fated rebellion.

In that same year there was a Mercian revolt which spread as far as Cheshire and Stafford. William marched against them and crushed them. Castles were erected at Chester and Stafford, and William returned to Wessex. He had made sure that the devastation would mean that Mercia and Northumbria would never again rise up against his rule.

There is no evidence that the brothers Edwin and Morcar had been involved in the uprising, but Edwin’s death came about when he was on his way to Scotland, presumably in flight, although it seems his demise was brought about by his own followers under circumstances which are lost to us now. Morcar went to Ely where he joined Hereward the Wake. 

The stand-off at Ely was also fated to fail. William surrounded the area, defeated the rebels, Morcar surrendered and was flung into prison.

And that’s pretty much where the Mercian story ends. Little is known about the fate of Ealdgyth, or her son/s by Harold.

In my new book about the history of Mercia I’ve looked in detail about the relations between the two rival families, the Godwines and the Mercians, and the theories about the various alliances and rebellions. I found it fascinating.

But what if either Edwin or Harold had lived, or maybe both? Because there is another family dynamic which interests me: Edwin was brother-in-law to the king, just as Harold had been, but he would also have been uncle to Harold’s infant son. The Mercians had no love for the Godwines. How different the political landscape might have looked …

   Mercia: The Rise and Fall of a Kingdom
   1066 Turned Upside Down

Review - The Needle in the Blood by Sarah Bower

You could call this the original 'stitch n bitch' story, since it is a tale woven (sorry, couldn't help myself) around the making of the Bayeux Tapestry. But actually, this book is so much more than the story of the sewing of the famous embroidery, and it seems to have left readers somewhat divided. As it's nearly the anniversary of the battle, it seemed timely to revisit this book.

Odo rallies William's troops during the battle in 1066

It begins on the battlefield, where Odo, brother of the conqueror, is introduced. Odo is a bishop and it is he who will commission the embroidery. This brings him into contact with Gytha, an Englishwoman. The chapter where she is introduced was more powerful, in my opinion. I've read about the battle itself many times, but what is less often written about is the immediate aftermath; the destruction of the world as the English knew it. Those early scenes of panic, confusion and fear are realistically drawn.

"Rape. That's what they all believe, the sullen crowd gathered before Winchester's West Gate, in the square where the tax man usually collect the duty on beasts brought into the city for market. It's clear from their faces, fear mixed with impotence and embarrassment, and the round eyed children, clinging to their mothers' skirts, who don't understand but just want to look at the soldiers."

A little boy darts out of the crowd, dazzled by the ornaments on the bishop's harness, and is trampled. The soldiers panic, one runs the grieving mother through with his lance. There is horror on the streets of England's capital. In this scene, Gytha first lays eyes on Bishop Odo. 

I'm giving no secrets away when I say that Gytha and Odo fall in love, but theirs is no straight-forward story, and I'll say no more about that, for it would spoil the enjoyment for anyone new to this book. Bower takes a scene from the tapestry (show below) in which an unknown woman, Ælfgyva, appears with a 'certain cleric' and comes up with an interesting reason for the inclusion of the scene.

Ubi unus clericus et Ælfgyva

This is an almost completely fictional tale, and I don't mind that. If I'm told at the outset that a book is a work of fiction, I'm quite happy to judge it as such. The setting is authentic and Bower has clearly done her research. If you want to know why this book has divided readers, look no further than the reviews on a well-known online retailer - the main concerns are the use of the third person present tense, and the lack of narrative structure.

It is a clever book. I read it many years ago and I don't recall the use of the present tense bothering me, particularly. Sometimes it is just a bit too clever, but there are many passages where the writing, and the insight, are sublime.

At one point, Gytha lies awake, unable to sleep as the wind picks up, remembering how the sound of her father checking the salt pans and barrels in the yard on stormy nights used to be comforting. That passage resonated with me; don't we all sometimes wish we were young again, with grown-ups watching out for us - why should eleventh-century folk be any different in that regard?

"When Odo is with her, she loves stormy nights, secure in his arms, curtained and cosseted. Even when he gets up, to check for broken shutters and fallen branches or calm his horses, the feeling of safety stays with her. Her father used to do the same; several times a night on rough nights she would hear...her parents whispering together, clothes rustling  and the creak of hinges as he went out ..." 

I found the book challenged me, because I am anti-Norman, and could not understand why on earth Gytha would become so enamoured of Odo. It dared me to alter my perception and by the end, I had begun to understand, a little, at least, the attraction between the two of them.

Reviewers have expressed surprise at the portrayal of Archbishop Lanfranc, but I had no difficulty in believing in him as a villain - probably my anti-Norman bias again - even though he perhaps strays onto the pantomime stage from time to time.

This is not an easy read; the flashbacks sneak up on you so you have to concentrate. But it is a brave book, a strong book, and quite different from a lot of historical fiction. The detail about how the 'tapestry' was constructed is fascinating, and, I'm sure, accurately portrayed.

As for the suppositions, well, Bower claims artistic licence, and why not? As with so many other periods of history, with no-one to ask, we can only wonder, 'what if'...

It is a 'Marmite' kind of book, I suspect. But if you are interested in this period of history, give it a try. Even if you don't find that you love it, I think you will admire the author's accomplished way with words, and the different approach to novel writing. You will be immersed in period detail, and you will emerge enriched.

[A word of warning - the language in this book is often x-rated and at times very explicit.] 

1066 - Anniversary Weekend Round-Up

"Ever wondered what might have happened if William the Conqueror had been beaten at Hastings? Or if Harald Hardrada had won at Stamford Bridge? Or if Edward the Confessor had died with an heir ready to take his place? Then here is the perfect set of stories for you. ‘1066 Turned Upside Down’ explores a variety of ways in which the momentous year of 1066 could have played out differently. 

Written by nine well-known authors to celebrate the 950th anniversary of the Battle of Hastings, the stories will take you on a journey through the wonderful ‘what ifs’ of England’s most famous year in history."

I was thrilled to be part of this wonderful collaboration and I found writing my story both interesting and challenging, and also very satisfying - who doesn't relish the opportunity to re-write history?

I was keen to know how the other authors and contributors went about the challenge, so I interviewed them all.

In case you missed any of these chats, here are the links.
And don't forget, 1066 Turned Upside Down is on offer this weekend at just 99p/99c

The interviews:

Helen Hollick
Annie Whitehead
Joanna Courtney
Carol McGrath
Richard Dee
Alison Morton
Anna Belfrage
Glynn Holloway
Eliza Redgold
Cathy Helms

You can read more about the project, too, at our dedicated BLOG

and catch up with all the latest news on our Facebook Page

She's got it covered - Cathy Helms on designing 1066 Turned Upside Down

Over the last few weeks, I have been talking to all the authors who have written the stories in 1066 Turned Upside Down. Now, on the eve of the anniversary of the Battle of Hastings itself, I need to talk to the person responsible for the public 'face' of the book - designer Cathy Helms:~

Why 'Avalon' Graphics? I have loved the tales of King Arthur and his Knights since I was a girl, so when it came time to choose a name for my design company, I knew that I had to draw on something from those legends. Using the word ‘Avalon’ meant that my company’s name would come near the top of any list sorted alphabetically too – and of course I think of Avalon as a place of peace and beauty which in turn I hope is a good parallel or representation of my creative body of work overall. I’ve always been fascinated by Arthur in particular – who he might have really been historically (if he ever even existed), but I will always devour any books about Camelot and the fairytale legends. Great escapism!

Can you tell us a little about your working process? What do you need from the author in order to design their cover? When initiating any new design project I always request a summary of the novel/story, any general ideas the author might have for their cover and make certain that I understand the genre and target market for the book (and a few technical details too).

My process involves a fair amount of research as well; seeking out other covers of similar subject matter/genre/plotlines for inspiration, and then I spend a good amount of time searching through potential stock image sites for suitable images to work with. 
I work on a desktop computer with a 27” monitor (eyes are not what they used to be, ha!) in a comfortable office at the front of our home – my walls are painted in my favorite color – purple!

And I have a lovely view of our front yard with roses and Hydrangea planted right in front of my office windows. I often listen to music while working as the sounds help my creative process, and I always make the time to simply play with Photoshop and attempt to learn new design tricks as often as possible.

Once upon a time, book covers were designed using drawings or paintings. Nowadays there are a lot of computer-generated images. Do you have a preference, or do you like to blend the two? Is book cover design a completely different art form nowadays? I am one hundred percent a digital artist; meaning that I work with photography, digital line art and digital brushes in order to create my designs. I started drawing with colored pencils as a young girl and still enjoy doodling from time to time (mostly with colored pens), but my open freestyle of drawing is too unrefined for graphic design (in my own opinion at any rate). I predominantly design using the vast available tools within Adobe Photoshop – to the point of being able to give the viewer the impression that the design was hand painted at times.

The program truly is outstanding and limitless. Book cover design evolved from hand lettering (typography) and hand illustration and I am actually relieved that I came along after the digital revolution! As part of my formal education, I was taught the very meticulous and labor intensive way to hand letter designs for marketing purposes, as it was done many decades before. I found the process interesting, but nothing that I would consider taking the time to do in any project today – not when I can achieve the same effect within minutes using Photoshop verses days hand lettering just a book title alone!

Do you have a favourite among all the covers you've designed? If so, why? This is always the toughest question to answer! Sentimentally, I often go with ‘Sea Witch’ by Helen Hollick because it was my first published cover design and I utilized my dear and patient husband as a model. The cover is in bold blue hues, contains a pirate ship and a pirate – and I worked my magic with grunge textures to accomplish the old world feel that the book deserved. While I cannot truly choose a single cover design as a favorite, any time that I can design a cover with a castle, knights or Ancient Rome, I am at my happiest in the creative process. I love working in the historical and fantasy realm above all other genres.

And finally, I have to ask about the 1066 Turned Upside Down cover. I love it (well, I would, wouldn't I?) It shows the concept of the book so clearly. Did you play around with other ways of showing the 'upside down' theme before you settled on this one? Presumably, like us authors, you go through several 'drafts' before settling on the final design? Believe it or not, this was one of those cover designs that simply came together right from the start without numerous design ideas. I had solid up front input regarding the design from Helen Hollick and Joanna Courtney – their initial idea was to include either a helmet or a shield wall reflected upside down. So I found a handful of potential photos to work with and then set about making the top part of the cover reflect in ripples of ‘time’ on the bottom half of the cover. Often the biggest challenge in designing for historical fiction is the ‘historical’ part – finding accurate depictions for the time of the novel. But in the case of ‘1066 Turned Upside Down’, I was able to take a bit of liberty with the elements since the novel is a time slip or alternate history collection.

So I was able to use the photo of a helmet that may have been a few decades off from the year 1066. It was a stunning stock photo, so it worked perfectly for an eye-catching cover. Having said all of that, typically I go through numerous concepts before a final cover design is chosen by the author. I begin with three to four distinct designs, then I work with the concepts until the author/client is content with a final. And I am thrilled that you love the cover design! All nine authors involved have been kind and generous with their feedback for the cover. I am fortunate to have been given the opportunity to design for such an illustrious group of writers, many of whom are friends and clients already.

Annie, thank you so much for the chance to speak with you in regards to book cover design and my involvement with the ‘1066 Turned Upside Down’ project!

Thank you, Cathy, for explaining the process to us, talking about your work, AND for our beautiful cover!
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