When Monks go Off-message

History is a serious business, in the main. We look at documents, chronicles, diaries, in order to analyse reigns, policies, wars, social deprivation...

Sometimes though, history - specifically that recorded by monks - can make us chuckle. Reading the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, which I do on a regular basis, I never fail to smile when I see the entry for the year 776. It tells of a battle fought at Otford, but it doesn't say who won, and it also informs us that "marvellous adders were seen in Sussex."

Later on in the pre-Conquest period, in 1058, the earl of Mercia, Ælfgar, was banished for a second time. He wasn't away for long, returning as he had after his first banishment with the help of the Welsh. This time though he also had a Norwegian fleet with him, commanded by Harald Hardrada, but we don't know if this was a planned invasion, or just an attempt to restore Ælfgar to his earldom in Mercia, because as this point the Chronicle says that it was all "too tedious to relate." 

It kind of skews the image of monks, with heads bent over their writing desks, diligently expending their best efforts in the pursuit of accurate recording of events. And in that vein, I am grateful to the Anglandicus blog for bringing to my attention the case of the Irish monk with an almighty hangover. A ninth-century copy of a Latin Grammar has a marginal gloss in Ogham script which apparently translates as Latheirt and has been defined thus: "Ale [Lait] + killed [ort], i.e. ale has killed us, that is ale drinking." So it would seem that the monk was hampered in his endeavours by a hangover. 

It gets worse...

I'm currently writing the follow-up to my novel, Cometh the Hour, and as I always do, I checked my reference books for details about the Anglo-Saxon way of life. I was thrown a little off-topic though when I came across a reference to a particular craftsman, cited for having advanced through his abilities. This man had made a name for himself as a craftsman, specifically a metal-worker, and had risen from being a monk, to an abbot and then a bishop. "It was at this stage he disappeared, as did the gold and jewels provided to make a new crown for the king (Edward the Confessor) and the bishop’s treasury."[1]

Well, I had to find out more...

The man in question was called Spearhafoc (Sparrowhawk), and this might have been a nickname, referring to the sharp eyes he'd need for his metal work. He began his career as a monk at Bury St Edmonds, but in around 1047 he was appointed abbot of Abingdon by King Edward the Confessor. There's a suggestion in the chronicle of that abbey that some bribery might have been involved, but by fair means or otherwise, he was made bishop of London in 1051. 

There was a bit of a hitch, however. Robert of Jumièges, the recently appointed archbishop of Canterbury, when presented with the king's writ and seal which made clear that Spearhafoc should be consecrated as bishop of London, stated that this had been forbidden by the pope. 

After trying a second time to persuade the archbishop and having again been refused, Spearhafoc simply went back to London and squatted there with, apparently, the king's full permission, "all that summer and autumn." [2]

But 1051 was quite a tumultuous year, which saw the banishment of the powerful Godwine family with whom Spearhafoc seems to have allied, and we are told that straight away after he'd exiled them, the king expelled Spearhafoc from the bishopric of London and Spearhafoc was never heard of again. 

Sounds like a straightforward case of politics, bickering, and clashes of interest. Certainly, Goscelin of St Bertin, an eleventh-century Benedictine chronicler, extolled Spearhafoc's skills in goldsmithing. The Abingdon Chronicle also mentioned that he was marvellous at working gold and silver. So it does seem as if these talents helped propel him to high office and yes, craftsmen could advance. However, the Abingdon Chronicle also mentions that when Spearhafoc left London, he took with him a store of gold and gems which the king had given him to make an imperial crown [3] and it appears he also took valuables from the diocesan stores.

As historian John Blair has said, there seems very little other than Spearhafoc's skills as a craftsman that might have recommended him to the king, and I can just imagine him, thwarted, frustrated and under orders to quit the country, deciding to take with him whatever he could stuff into his bags.

None of these stories helps my research, but I do enjoy them, and they are a reminder that even monks' patience can sometimes snap!

My own photo of a visiting Sparrowhawk

[1] Anglo-Saxon Crafts - Kevin Leahy p 172.

[2] ASC (C-F) 1042-1087  E 1048 (1051)

[3] Chronicon monasterii de Abingdon, 1.462–3)

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

Captive Nuns

Anglo-Saxon abbesses were often members of royal families. Penda, the famously pagan king of seventh-century Mercia, had at least two daughters who became abbesses and were subsequently created saints. Oswiu of Northumbria promised his infant daughter to the Church if God would grant him victory in battle. St Æthelthryth, despite being married twice - once to a king - managed, we're told, to preserve her chastity and founded the abbey at Ely. Her sister succeeded her there as abbess. Both were daughters of King Anna of East Anglia.

St Æthelthryth

A noble and pious occupation. These were wealthy women, and no doubt lived comfortably. But safely? Not always. These women belonged to prestigious royal houses, and there are a few instances which prove that being an abbess, or nun, or merely a noblewoman living in an abbey, was to be vulnerable. Yes, such places were raided by invaders, but sometimes the perpetrators came from a little closer...

I've been looking into this subject in preparation for my new book - Women of Power in Anglo-Saxon England - so I'll save any analysis for that. But here, in case you don't know the stories, are three examples of high profile abduction of nuns:

The first of these cases involved the family of Alfred the Great. When Alfred succeeded his elder brother to the throne, that brother had left a - presumably very young - son, Æthelwold. With hindsight, it was probably a good job that Alfred took the throne, and even though the 'Viking' wars were still raging when Alfred died, he left the kingdom of Wessex in the very safe hands of his son, Edward the Elder.

By this stage, Æthelwold was a grown man, and decided to make his own bid for the throne, with the aid of the Northumbrian 'Vikings'.  Initially, though, Æthelwold took his forces to Wimborne, and holed up there with a nun whom he had kidnapped, stating that he would live there or die. According to the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, the woman had been taken 'without the king's permission and contrary to the bishops' orders - for she had been consecrated a nun.'

Wimborne Minster by Bellminsterboy via CC Commons

It may be that the lady was in fact a nun from Wimborne. It has been suggested that she was none other than Alfred's daughter, Æthelgifu. Some historians think that Æthelwold married the captive lady, while others are not convinced. Her identity is not proven, nor is it established that a marriage took place, but whatever the truth, it seems clear that Æthelwold's actions were driven by a desire to strengthen his claim to the throne. This woman, whatever her identity, was clearly of high status and politically important.

His threat, to live there or die, was not carried out. He escaped in the night and went to join the Viking army in Northumbria, who swore allegiance to him as their king. 

In 902 Æthelwold and his East Anglian Viking allies harried Mercia and went as far as Cricklade in Wiltshire. When he crossed the Thames into Wessex, Edward chased him, harrying in Essex and East Anglia, ‘all their lands between the Dykes and the Ouse, as far north as the fens.’ When Edward then ordered a withdrawal, he sent seven messengers to the men of Kent, who lingered behind, counter to his commands. The Danish army then overtook the men of Kent at the – unidentified - Holme. In the ensuing fighting, there were losses on both sides. Two are significant: one being the father of Edward’s future wife and the other being Æthelwold himself.

The second case concerns King Edgar, a little later in the tenth century. Edgar's marital history is a little hazy, with some people thinking he had children by three women, two of whom were his wives, while others - including me - are not so convinced that his first 'wife' even existed.

King Edgar

Edgar’s second ‘woman’ and possibly wife, was Wulfthryth, later Saint Wulfthryth, who might have been promised to the Church before Edgar impregnated her. William of Malmesbury said that she ‘initially was not fully professed as a nun of Wilton, but assumed the veil for fear of Edgar, but had it torn off before being forced into the king’s bed. Edgar was reproved by St Dunstan and served seven years of penance. As for her, once Eadgyth (Edith) was born, she returned to the nunnery.’ 

William (c. 1095- c. 1143) is not the only source of these stories, although none is contemporary. Osbern of Canterbury (c.1050-1090) said that the baby Edward was the son of a professed nun of Wilton, whose seduction earned Edgar a seven-year penance. 

Eadmer (c.1060-1126) believed his contemporary, Nicholas of Worcester, that Edward was the son of Æthelflæd Eneda, Edgar’s supposed first wife, and thus not born of a consecrated nun, and tells the story of the seduction of the young laywoman and says his offence was worse because he already had a lawful wife. ‘For on a certain occasion this same king came to a monastery of virgins, which is located at Wilton, and there, captivated by the beauty of a certain young girl, who took her lineage from the English nobility and was being raised and protected by the nuns though she had not taken the veil, he ordered her to be brought to him secretly to speak with him.

Edith of Wilton, Edgar's daughter

While she was being led to him out of fear for her chastity she placed a veil snatched from one of the nuns on her own head, hoping in this way to protect herself should the king by chance wish to demand anything dishonourable from her. When Edgar saw her wearing the veil he said, “How suddenly you have become a nun.” He grabbed and dragged the veil from her head while she resisted in vain with whatever strength she had.’ 

Goscelin of Saint-Bertin (born before the 1040s) wrote in his Life of St Wulfhild, that it was she (Wulfhild) who became the object of Edgar’s attentions, resisting by escaping naked down a sewer, and that he took Wulfthryth, a laywoman being educated by the nuns, instead. He presents her as Edgar’s wife.

Thus there seems to be some confusion, and Edgar was described by William of Malmesbury as being ‘libidinous in respect of virgins’. But if Edward was Wulfthryth’s son, he was certainly considered of high enough birth that the Witan had no qualms in electing him king upon his father’s death, even though his reign was short and unhappy. 

The third of these cases moves us into the eleventh century and into the reign of Edgar’s grandson, Edward the Confessor. During Edward’s reign, the Godwin family reached the peak of its political power. But 1046 saw the first acts of disobedience from within the family’s ranks, as Swein teamed up with Gruffudd ap Llywelyn, king of Gwynedd and Powys, and went into South Wales. On the way back, according to the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, he ‘ordered the abbess of Leominster to be brought to him, and he kept her as long as he pleased, and then let her go home.’ In revenge for being forced to give her up, he deprived the church of Worcester of a number of estates. 

Leominster Priory Church by Captain Jae

From John of Worcester: ‘Meanwhile, Earl Swein, son of Earl Godwine and Gytha who had left England earlier because he was not permitted to marry Eadgifu, abbess of the convent at Leominster, whom he had seduced, went to Denmark, and returned with eight ships, saying dishonestly that he would henceforth remain faithful to the king.’ 

What might we make of the statement that he ‘kept her as long as he pleased’? Was she kept against her will, or was she a willing concubine?

Eadgifu was, according to one source,  with Swein for about a year: ‘A tantalising note in 1086 Domesday Book says: "The Abbess holds Fencote. She held it herself before 1066." Fencote, in Docklow parish, had belonged to Leominster nunnery. Was Eadgifu given Fencote? Did she retire here and was she still living here in 1086 with her memories of Swein?' (Blanche Parry - Absolute Herefordshire)

It is thought that the abbey was suppressed after Eadgifu’s abduction (David Knowles - The Heads of Religious Houses: England and Wales 940-1216.)

So it does seem that even in times of relative peace (Edgar’s reign was known for its lack of ‘viking’ raiding) it does seem that to be an abbess, or even a nun, was still a hazardous occupation.

~~~~~~~~~~

These women's stories all feature in my new book, Women of Power in Anglo-Saxon England, out May 30th 2020 from Pen & Sword Books.
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And all are mentioned in Mercia: The Rise and Fall of a Kingdom, paperback available for pre-order now.

It's also available to pre-order direct from Amberley Publishing