Edith of Polesworth, Nun and Wife? Maybe...

With the study of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, the writings of Bede, the Welsh and Irish annals, and the later Anglo-Norman Chroniclers (many of whom had direct access to earlier documents), it is relatively easy to piece together the history of the kings of Anglo-Saxon England. 

But what of the women? Can we find anything? If we look at the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle we will find that from the entries in 672 until the arrival of Emma of Normandy in 1002, there are only a dozen or so women mentioned by name. Often we have an entry such as this one for 926: “Athelstan gave [Sihtric] his sister in marriage.”

Athelstan presenting a book to St Cuthbert - it's the oldest surviving portrait of an Anglo-Saxon King

Hmm. She was Athelstan's sister, and Athelstan was a king, so she was royal. Doesn’t she warrant a name-check? Who was she?

Athelstan’s father, Edward the Elder, had three wives by whom he had at least fourteen children. To discover the identity of the sister married to Sihtric, it’s probably easier to start at the end and work backwards. 

Eadgifu, third wife of Edward the Elder

Edward had married his third wife, Eadgifu, by at least 920, because we know that their firstborn, a son, was born in 921. Eadgifu had another son by Edward, and two daughters, called Eadburh and Eadgifu. Eadburh became a nun at Winchester and the Anglo-Norman chronicler, William of Malmesbury, tells us that when she was just 3 years old her father, wishing to ascertain whether she would choose the religious life, laid out a chalice and the Gospels, and some bangles and necklaces. When little Eadburh was brought in by her nurse, she was told that she could choose what she wanted, whereupon she immediately crawled towards the Gospels and chalice. She joined the community of Nunnaminster at Winchester founded by her grandmother Ealhswith, wife of Alfred the Great. Of Eadgifu, Eadburh’s sister, less is known. But given that Edward died in 924, she must have been born no later than nine months after that, and no earlier than 920, which makes her rather too young to be the bride of Sihtric in 926.

We don’t know if Edward was a widower in 920 when he married Eadgifu, but we do know that his previous wife, Ælfflæd, bore him six daughters. Two – Eadflæd and Æthelhild – took the religious life, while the other four made prestigious marriages. Eadgifu (yes, it seems he had two daughters of the same name!) married Charles the Simple, king of the Franks, while Eadhild married a Frankish duke, Hugh the Great. The remaining two, Eadgyth and Ælfgifu, were, apparently, both sent to Germany so that the future emperor, Otto, could choose one of them as his bride. 

Seal of Otto 'the Great'

Otto married Eadgyth – it was, apparently, ‘love at first sight’ – and Ælfgifu married another prince, whose identity is the subject of some debate but nowhere is it suggested that he was Sihtric.  It seems unlikely that the entry in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle refers to any of Athelstan’s half-sisters and, indeed, William of Malmesbury claimed that the bride was a full sister of Athelstan’s.

Athelstan’s mother, Edward’s first wife, Ecgwynn, barely emerges from the shadows and is not mentioned by any of the contemporary sources. Some said she was a concubine, while others said she was a wife. Sometimes she was described as high-born and sometimes as being of lowly birth. But, either way, her status was important.

When Edward died, Athelstan ruled Mercia while his eldest half-brother, Ælfweard, succeeded  in Wessex, dying a mere 16 days later. The statue of Edward’s sister, Æthelflæd, Lady of the Mercians, outside Tamworth Castle famously shows her with her arm round a small boy, her nephew Athelstan, who was, apparently, brought up by her in the Mercian court. There is no contemporary evidence for this; the assertion comes to us from William of Malmesbury. But why would Athelstan have been brought up in Mercia? 

Æthelflæd

Athelstan’s subsequent rule over Wessex was not universally approved. After Edward’s death, the opposition there claimed that Athelstan was an illegitimate son of a woman of low birth. There are hints that Athelstan’s half-brother, Edwin, was also part of this opposition and was exiled by Athelstan, put to sea in a boat from which he then plunged to a watery death. Added to the fact that Ælfweard had been designated king in Wessex initially, while Athelstan was given Mercia, it is hard to conclude anything other than that Athelstan’s mother, Ecgwynn was, regardless of her class, no more than a concubine and not a wife. 

However, William of Malmesbury also tells us that Athelstan had been adored by his grandfather, Alfred the Great, and that when he was a young boy he had been given by Alfred a ‘scarlet cloak, a belt studded with diamonds, and a Saxon sword with a golden scabbard’. William also said that Alfred ‘made him a knight’ which is anachronistic, since technically no such rank existed in pre-Conquest times, but if it signifies some sort of investiture, it would suggest that his royal status was somehow acknowledged by Alfred.

Is it possible that, for whatever reason, Ecgwynn was put aside when Edward married his second wife, and that she and her children returned to Mercia, possibly the land of her birth?

I say ‘children’ because we are told that aside from Athelstan, Ecgwynn also bore Edward a daughter, although her identity is far from clear. 

There is a saint, Edith of Polesworth, who was said by some to be the daughter of Edward the Elder, although not all sources agree. Indeed we cannot be sure that, even if Edith of Polesworth was a daughter of Edward’s, she was also the daughter of Ecgwynn and, in any case, how could this religious lady have been married to Sihtric?

Polesworth Abbey Gatehouse - Author's own photo

Yet the Anglo-Norman chronicler, Roger of Wendover, named her as Edith, the sister whom Athelstan married to Sihtric, the Norse king of the Northumbrians. He went on to relate that after Sihtric’s death (only a year after the wedding), and having preserved her virginity, Edith retired to the monastery at Polesworth, which was in Mercia. She was venerated as a saint and if she was, indeed, Athelstan’s full sister then her return to Mercia, rather than Wessex, might make sense on two counts: that she, like her brother, was brought up at the Mercian court and that their mother, Ecgwynn, might have been Mercian herself.

Not all historians agree about Edith of Polesworth’s identity (some even suggesting that she was, in fact, Eadgyth, daughter of Edward by his second wife, Ælfflæd, who married Otto), but these stories do on the whole draw us back to Mercia time and again. Polesworth, incidentally, is in modern-day Warwickshire, in the heart of what was Mercia. 

Having accounted for all the other known daughters of Edward it does seem, on balance, that the sister whom Athelstan married to Sihtric could well have been Edith of Polesworth, daughter of Ecgwynn. And the story serves to show how much information we can glean, if we take the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle as a starting point and do a bit of detective work.

[all images are in the public domain unless otherwise stated. Photo by and copyright of the author]

If you'd like to read more about these Anglo-Saxon characters, their stories are in my nonfiction books, Mercia: The Rise and Fall of a Kingdom and Women of Power in Anglo-Saxon England, and Edith and Sihtric also get a mention in my forthcoming book, Murder in Anglo-Saxon England: Justice, Wergild, Revenge, out in Feb 2025 

You can also read about Æthelflæd, Athelstan, and Edward and his wives in my novel about Æthelflæd: To Be A Queen

King Eadwig's Short and Ill-Fated Reign

Some Anglo-Saxon kings are famous, for either being successful (Alfred the Great, Athelstan) or unsuccessful (Æthelred the Unready). Some have faded into obscurity or are remembered for only one thing. A case in point is King Eadwig, sandwiched on the regnal list between his uncle, Eadred, during whose reign 'Viking' York came under English control, and his brother, Edgar, remembered for keeping his kingdom united, reforming the coinage, and enabling the leading Churchmen of the age to instigate the Benedictine Monastic Reform. Even had he not been sandwiched between these two, Eadwig's reign was not successful, nor did he achieve anything much during his extremely short tenure, losing his kingdom within two years of becoming king, and having his marriage annulled a year later. He is chiefly remembered only for the scandalous story of his coronation. So what happened? 

Although England was technically a united country when Eadwig acceded in 955, old national identities were still strong. ‘Viking’ Northumbria, with its power base at York, had only ended the year before, and Mercia had rebelled against Wessex authority as recently as 924. A north/south divide was still keenly felt.

Fourteenth-Century image of Eadwig [Public Domain image: attribution link]

Eadwig came to the throne when his uncle died childless but he himself was only around 15 when he succeeded. His father, Edmund, was killed when he was a small boy, so his uncle, Eadred, became king and he and his infant brother Edgar were brought up in - separate - foster homes.

This last point is significant because, while we do not know precisely who was responsible for Eadwig’s upbringing, we know that his younger brother grew up in the household of the ealdorman of East Anglia (also part of the ‘Danelaw’), a man who had served three previous kings and was so rich and powerful his epithet was ‘Half-king’. 

Eadwig’s reign started badly. There are many versions of the tale but they all concur that the louche young man absented himself from his coronation feast and was found cavorting in bed with a noblewoman and her daughter. The fact that this daughter was actually his wife and queen consort mattered little to the outraged churchmen. An argument ensued, and the abbot who had found him, Dunstan of Glastonbury, one of the leading lights of the Benedictine Monastic Reform movement, was banished. There was another aspect to this dispute, however, one which appears to involve Dunstan’s retention of some royal treasure, and Eadwig’s despoiling his grandmother, Eadgifu (the wife of one king and the mother of two more), of her property. The stage was set.

‘Mortimer’ illustration (Drawing by Samuel Wale, entitled "The Insolent Behaviour of Dunstan to King Edwy on the Day of his Coronation Feast." in Thomas Mortimer's New History of England. 3 vols: vol. 1. 1764-6.)

Only one chronicler had anything good to say about Eadwig and, tellingly, he was related to Eadwig’s young wife. We cannot know about the personalities of those at court but the extraordinary number of extant charters show the young king granting away vast tracts of land which looks like an attempt to win support from the nobility. Eadwig’s wife was descended from royalty herself, a branch of the family which had rebelled in 902, sparking a battle in which Eadgifu’s father had been killed. The old guard might have seen this marriage as a potential threat. It was declared that the couple was too closely related and in 958 the marriage was annulled. But things had gone awry for Eadwig before then.

In 957, Edgar, the younger brother, became king of the Mercians. It is likely that Edgar was at this stage only around fourteen years of age, his brother about seventeen. It can be taken as read that he had the backing of the East Anglians, having grown up there, and he now courted the Mercians, whose support, along with that of the Northumbrians, was crucial. For a time, there were two courts, with Eadwig’s kingdom now restricted to the central heartland of Wessex. This might have been the Half-king’s plan all along.

Was it a rebellion? One chronicler said that the people ‘threw off their allegiance to Eadwig.’ Eadwig continued to issue charters, but only for land in Wessex, while Edgar was styled ‘King of Mercia’ in his. It might be that it was a pre-arrangement, as when Edward the Elder died in 924 and one of his sons inherited Mercia, another Wessex. (A short-lived arrangement, with the Wessex king dead after sixteen days). 

Edgar recalled the exiled Dunstan and appointed him bishop of Worcester but Eadwig, still officially king of the English, appointed a married man and father, the bishop of Winchester, as the new archbishop of Canterbury. The biographers of Dunstan and the other reformers did not approve; Eadwig was proving to be the obstruction to certain ambitions. Conveniently for some, the archbishop elect died on his way to Rome, and Dunstan took the role.

Possible image of Dunstan praying before Christ

The reformers and the old guard now had Edgar in place as king of the ‘Danelaw’, a pro-reform archbishop, and another ally, the abbot of Abingdon, accusing Eadwig of distributing ‘the lands of the holy churches to rapacious strangers’.

Yet still Eadwig remained, albeit only as king of the West Saxons. An untenable situation, and one which was resolved when, in 959 and still aged only around nineteen, divorced and childless, Eadwig died. Edgar then became king of all England.

Eadwig had been elected by the Witan (council) as king, but from the outset there were factions at court who favoured his brother. Whether or not the division of the kingdom can be classed as a rebellion, its result was the same. And who can but wonder about the nature (unrecorded) of the young king’s timely death?

The opening scene of my novel, Alvar the Kingmaker

shows the moment when Abbot Dunstan discovers the young king 'rioting in the harlot's embrace' (as one Anglo-Norman chronicler put it). I've also related the incident in detail for The Historian Circle blog, where I looked at what we know of the king's young wife and the importance of her status. You can read the article HERE . I've revisited the reigns of Eadwig, his father Edmund and his uncle, Eadred, for my new book, Murder in Anglo-Saxon England: Justice, Wergild, Revenge, which was published in February 2025. 

For a look at the reign of Eadwig's predecessor, you can read my chapter on King Eadred in Kings and Queens: 1200 Years of English and British Monarchs edited by Iain Dale and published by Hodder & Stoughton.

Many Ælfgifus - Some Anglo-Saxon Ladies who Shared a Name

I was recently interviewed on BBC Radio Northampton where we chatted about a lady known as Ælfgifu of Northampton. During the pre-recording chat, it became clear that there was some confusion over the name. I told the presenter that I wasn’t the least surprised, as there are no fewer than eight ladies with that name featured in my new book. I thought I’d take this opportunity to introduce them. (The name, incidentally, translates as Elf-gift, which I think is rather beautiful.)

Ælfgifu, daughter of Edward the Elder

We don’t know a great deal about her but I do feel rather sorry for her. She and her sister, Eadgyth, were, apparently, both sent to Germany so that the future emperor, Otto, could choose one of them as his bride. He married Eadgyth – it was, apparently, ‘love at first sight’ – and Ælfgifu married another prince. What Ælfgifu felt about being rejected by Otto, we can only surmise. Of course, Otto might not have been every young girl’s dream, in which case Ælfgifu might have considered that she’d had a lucky escape. It must have rankled though, being declared less attractive than her sister.

Depiction of Edward the Elder

Ælfgifu of Shaftesbury

King Edmund was the son of Edward the Elder and a half-brother of the Ælfgifu mentioned above. He became king at around the age of eighteen and his first wife, Ælfgifu, bore him two sons, both future kings. Her identity is debateable and her background unknown. She wasn’t married for long.  Her son Eadwig (I’ll come back to him) was probably born around 940, and his younger brother Edgar around 943. King Edmund himself died in 946 – the victim of a brawl, or perhaps a political assassination – having married again, so his first marriage must have ended not long after Edgar’s birth. Ælfgifu is known as Ælfgifu of Shaftesbury, and it would be easy to assume that she retired to Shaftesbury Abbey in the manner of a number of previous queens, but the short-lived nature of her marriage and the young age of her children suggest another scenario. It is plausible that she died in childbirth, either in labour with Edgar or with a subsequent pregnancy in which both mother and child died. If she did indeed die in childbirth then she cannot have been a nun at Shaftesbury, but merely a benefactor. 

Ælfgifu the Harlot

In 955 Edmund’s brother, who’d succeeded him, died and was in turn succeeded by Edmund’s son, Eadwig (see, I told you I’d come back to him). Life at court got rather interesting when Eadwig, still only a teenager, married a young woman named Ælfgifu. Many of you will know the story of how he was found in bed on his coronation day with his wife, and her mother. Depending on which version one reads, the mother was banished and/or hamstrung in punishment, or she threatened the abbot who found them, and who was himself subsequently banished, that she would have his eyes put out if he ever returned. The young couple’s marriage was annulled two years later, on the grounds that they were too closely related. 

Mortimer's depiction of the 
scandalous bedroom scene

However, Ælfgifu is presumed to be the same woman who left a will, in which she’s identified as being descended from the brother of Alfred the Great. This being so, she was descended from the branch of the royal family that had risen up in rebellion. Ælfgifu’s marrying the king might have been seen as an attempt to strengthen those claims. It’s not a theory which I whole-heartedly embrace but it does seem that there was a lot of political manoeuvring at court and I suspect Ælfgifu was an innocent caught up in the turmoil. She was certainly welcomed back to court by Eadwig’s brother when he became king. 

Ælfgifu of York - Possibly

That brother of Eadwig’s had a son, known to history as Æthelred the Unready. His first wife’s identity is a bit of a mystery. The chronicler John of Worcester said that she was called Ælfgifu, and that she was the daughter of an ealdorman called Æthelberht. But there is no evidence of this woman’s father; no ealdorman named Æthelberht is recorded elsewhere. Roger of Wendover said that she was a ‘woman of low birth’, while Ailred of Rievaulx, writing in the mid-twelfth century, said that she was the daughter of a man named Thored, but he didn’t name her. It is possible that Æthelred was married first to a woman named Ælfgifu and then to the daughter of Thored, but it is generally accepted that this was one woman and, combining the two versions, that she was Ælfgifu, daughter of Thored. 

Æthelred the 'Unready'

We don’t hear much from her as she didn’t witness any charters and is otherwise unnamed in the sources. What she did do, though, is have at least nine children, (one of whom was also called Ælfgifu, whose husband was murdered by her sister’s husband, which must have made for awkward family Christmases)! She must have lived until the eleventh century, for her youngest son, Edgar, did not appear on charter witness lists until 1001. We do not know exactly how old the royal children would typically have been when they first appeared on the witness lists, but we do know that they were sometimes still babes in arms. It is not known what happened to Ælfgifu and it is possible that she died at around the same time, for King Æthelred got married again in 1002...

...To a woman named Emma, but who was given the English name of Ælfgifu. As if this wasn’t confusing enough! And after Æthelred the Unready died, Emma married again. Her husband was King Cnut, who already had a wife/concubine:

Ælfgifu of Northampton

This Ælfgifu came from a powerful Mercian family. Her father was ealdorman of Northumbria, her uncle founded Burton Abbey and her grandmother founded Wolverhampton. Ælfgifu’s father was murdered and her brothers were blinded and generally Æthelred the Unready mistrusted the family, as well he might. For at some point, possibly around 1013, Ælfgifu married Cnut, the son of the invader, Swein Forkbeard. She had two sons by Cnut, and they were given Danish names - Swein and Harold - as if recognised as potential heirs, but when Cnut became king, he married Emma and also had a son with her, who was named Harthacnut.

Queen Emma, or yet another
Ælfgifu!!!

Emma, with her credentials as an English queen, was no doubt important to Cnut, but so too was Ælfgifu of Northampton, and Cnut had a task for her to perform. Cnut had an empire to rule, and Harthacnut was sent to Denmark while in 1030, Ælfgifu and her son Swein were sent to Norway, there to rule for Cnut. The regency in Norway may have been hugely symbolic, and it is telling that the period was remembered in Scandinavian history as ‘Ælfgifu’s time’, but for various reasons it wasn’t hugely successful. Swein died in 1035, but so too did Cnut.

Now a (rather unseemly at times) battle began as Emma and Ælfgifu fought for their sons to succeed. You can read all about these fraught years in my new book but the upshot was that Ælfgifu was successful in the short term and Harold ‘Harefoot’ became king. Sadly though he died in 1040. We don’t know what happened to Ælfgifu after this, but there is a French twelfth-century story which speaks of a woman named Alveva and it’s possible that she lived out her years as an exile in southern France.

By 1066, another Harold was on the throne. He had a wife/concubine who’s known to history as Edith Swanneck, and one of her children was a daughter named Ælfgifu.

Ælfgifu the Unlucky

But the last Ælfgifu I want to talk about is one I’ve nicknamed ‘unlucky’. You’ll recall that Ælfgifu of Northampton’s brothers were blinded. They weren’t the only ones and in 993 a man named Ælfgar suffered the same fate. His wife was another woman named Ælfgifu. When Ælfgifu of Northampton’s father was killed and her brothers blinded, another man was named as being deprived of all his property. With a little bit of detective work I was able to say with some degree of certainty that this man was the second husband of our last Ælfgifu, which means that her first husband was blinded and the second was deprived of all his property. Given that it’s clear the name Ælfgifu seems to have been given only to noblewomen, I think this one must have expected a slightly more comfortable and uneventful life!

Women of Power in Anglo-Saxon England is published by Pen & Sword Books and is available on their website, in book shops and from Amazon

[A version of this article appeared on Sharon Bennett Connolly's History...The Interesting Bits! site in 2020 and you can read her thoughts on the book HERE]

Alliteration As An Aid: What's in a Name?

A lot of people tell me that they find the 'Anglo-Saxon' personal names quite challenging, and I know what they mean: all those Æthels and Ælfs... 

They are tricky partly because they come from what is essentially a different language. But then so do Spanish and French names, and we don't struggle so much with them. I think the main reason Old English names are difficult is because they use letters which we don't use any more, such as the Æ diphthong, which is very common. 

Æthelwulf of Wessex

And, the 'Anglo-Saxons' didn't have surnames. If you were to talk about Henry VIII's various advisers and members of the court, and take away their surnames, you'd find an awful lot of people with the exact same name. Wolsey, Cranmer, Cromwell, More, Tallis, Wyatt, Boleyn: all had the name Thomas.

Apparently, when Henry the Young King (eldest son of Henry II) held his Christmas court in Normandy in 1171, it was said that the guests included no fewer than 110 knights all called William.*

I know that the Æthels and Ælfs can be utterly confusing but sometimes it helps to look at the second part of the name, where, unlike the Thomas' and Williams, they alter slightly. Mostly, the Old English names are compounds, and Æthel means noble. So Æthelwine has two elements, noble being the first, and wine (friend), being the second, while Æthelred, or more properly Æthelræd, means noble counsel (ræd = counsel). I wrote a post a while ago about these various names, but this time I want to talk about what historians have gleaned, or surmised, from looking at these names; in particular, alliteration.

There was certainly a tendency for various royal houses to have alliterative names. Names beginning with Cyne or Cen can often be associated with the kingdom of the West Saxons, which is why King Penda of Mercia's wife Cynewise is often presumed to have hailed from there. It doesn't always work, for there were plenty of Mercians with those names too, but often they are assumed to have descended from a branch of the family descended from a West Saxon.

Alliteration can help with identification in some cases. Because all these people came from the royal family of Kent - Eormenred, Eorconeberht, Eormenhild, Eorcongota, it's likely that a bishop named Eorcenwald did too.

If the name is Sigeheard, Sigered, Sigeric, Sæberht Sexred, or Saeward, then they're probably a member of the East Saxon royal house. But there were plenty of 'Siges' who were Kentish nobility too, so it doesn't always work. 

St Seaxburh - image attribution link

The name element Seax is more commonly found among the East Saxons than the West. Yet even here it's not failsafe, as Seaxburh, queen then abbess, was actually the daughter of an East Anglian king.

In seventh-century Mercia, King Penda, menitoned above, had rather a lot of offspring. One of his sons had an odd name, which has the element walh, which can mean Welshman, foreigner, or even slave. It's unlikely that this man was a slave, but he might have been Welsh. Anyway, historians have sometimes argued that he couldn't have been Penda's son because his name, unlike another of Penda's sons, Peada, didn't alliterate. Personally, I don't think Merewalh, for that was his name, was Penda's son, but not because of the alliteration argument, which falls down when you look at all of Penda's other children:

sons Wulfhere and Æthelred, and daughters, Cyneburh, Cyneswith and possibly Cynethryth. There may have been two other daughters, Saints Edith and Eadburh and another possible daughter, Wilburg.

So not much alliteration there really, certainly not with Penda's name, and only one Æthel too! ** 

However, Merewalh's family certainly all belonged together. By two wives, he had:

daughters Mildburg, Mildrith and Mildgyth,
and sons, Merchelm, Mildfrith and Merefin.

Alliteration can, then, indeed indicate close family ties. But it shouldn't be relied upon. One historian looked at the circumstances of one of Penda's daughter-in-law, a lady by the name of Osthryth, who married Penda's son Æthelred. She was the daughter of Penda's enemy, Oswiu of Northumbria and the reason for, and the timing of, the marriage are somewhat hazy. The main thing about Osthryth is that she was killed (by Mercian nobles), and no reason was given in the chronicles.

A tribe of the midlands, the Hwicce, originally had their own kings, who gradually got demoted to subkings of Mercia. Some of them had alliterative names, such as Oshere, Oswald and Osred. One historian suggested that these people were somehow related to the Northumbrian kings, Oswald and Oswiu. Oshere of the Hwicce was also a possible murder victim and the argument was that the Hwicce royals were all members of a branch of the Northumbrian royal house, trying to overthrow the Mercians, and that Osthryth was part of that plot, and was murdered because of it. It's not a theory that is given much credence by other historians.

Alfred's Will

However, another 'Os' connection has been argued. It is thought by some that Alfred the Great had a bastard son. Alfred’s will contained a bequest for a man named Osferth who is described as the king’s kinsman. He also appears in a charter of Alfred’s son Edward, where he is described at the king's brother (frater regis). But it seems unlikely that he was Alfred's illegitimate son. Historian Simon Keynes says that the name suggests a relationship to the family of Osburh, Alfred’s mother. Alternatively, he might have been a son of Oswald filius regis who attested at least three charters and might have been a son of Alfred’s brother Æthelred. In both cases, alliteration of names directs the argument.

In other cases, non-alliteration can be powerfully suggestive. Alfred the Great did have plenty of legitimate children and those who survived beyond infancy were:

Æthelflæd, the first-born daughter, Edward, who ruled Wessex after his father, then two more daughters, Æthelgifu and Ælfthryth, and another son, Æthelweard. Interestingly, the only one there who is neither an Æthel or an Ælf is Edward. It has been suggested*** that he was named after his Mercian maternal grandmother, Eadburh. (Edward would have been spelled Eadward, so the first element of both names would be identical.)

Margaret arrives in Scotland

Queen Margaret of Scotland had an interesting lineage. The daughter of a man who so very nearly could have been an English king, she was [probably] born in Hungary and came to England with her father, who was the son of Edmund Ironside, but had to flee when her brother Edgar, involved in the resistance against William of Normandy, found life in England a little perilous. The family landed in Scotland, which might or might not have been deliberate, and the benefits of an alliance quickly became clear. Margaret was married to Malcolm of Scotland and made a successful life in her adopted country. Her children were a huge part of her legacy. Matilda married Henry I of England, bringing English blood back in to the monarchy there. Margaret's children took precedence over Malcolm's children by his first wife, but it may also be significant that some of them were given very English names. Of her eight children with Malcolm, four were:

Edward, Edmund, Ethelred, Edgar and indeed Matilda is said by some to have been christened Edith. 

Surely no one in the Scottish court by this stage could have thought for a moment that Margaret and Malcolm's children had any chance of sitting on the English throne, nor is it at first glance likely that Margaret thought of herself as English. And yet, she did much to help displaced Englishmen, and her biographer, who also happened to have been her chaplain, said that her first language was English. Was the naming of her children a nod to her English heritage, a reminder of her illustrious ancestry or was it perhaps even a signal of defiance? 

Although Edgar, Edward and Edith are easier names there were still a lot of Æthels and Ælfs in the later period, but in time the Danes came along and helped a bit, bringing some Harolds and Sweins into the mix. 

But no, it's not easy making head and tail of Old English names. Sometimes they can provide a clue to family identity and sometimes they can't. Alliteration is fascinating, but it can't be relied upon. Surnames though, well, they'd have definitely helped.


*Thanks to Charlene Newcomb for this nugget.
**However, it must be said that Penda's wife was called Cynewise, so maybe the daughters, the ones we're sure about, were all given names that alliterated with hers. For more on who Penda's children were, and whether they were full or half-siblings, see http://mybook.to/MerciaRiseandFall
*** By historian Pauline Stafford

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

The Æthelflæd Paradox - My Tamworth Litfest Talk

On Saturday 14th July, I gave a talk about Æthelflæd, Lady of the Mercians, and how I gave her a 'voice' in fiction. I was invited to do this as part of the Tamworth Literary Festival. Here is a transcript of the talk I gave, as part of the celebrations to commemorate her 1100th anniversary.

During my introduction I thanked those involved for inviting me to talk about Ethelfled, Athelflatt, Ethelfleda… and said that the pronunciation of her name is just the smallest of the problems we have to deal with when piecing together her life...

"I could talk for hours about the Anglo-Saxons – don’t worry, I won’t! – because I spend my life reading and writing about them, especially the Mercians. But I want to talk today about what we know about her childhood, her husband’s presumed illness, and her ‘rule’, because they are central themes in the novel.
I couldn’t interview anyone who knew her, obviously, and I didn’t go digging about in archaeological trenches! So inevitably, I fell back on the primary sources but, whilst we think we know a lot about her, there is precious little in the way of documentary evidence.

I’d like to start though by talking about her husband, Æthelred. He was not a king, although he seems to have had high status – we just don’t know quite what it was, or where he came from. There’s no evidence that he was even a leading ealdorman prior to becoming leader of Mercia.
Background
Of the two kings before him, one was Burgred, who was married to Alfred the Great’s sister, and who fled when the Vikings occupied Repton, in the Mercian heartland, with the help and connivance of the next king, Ceolwulf II, who was described as a ‘foolish king’s thegn’ but was very probably a member of a rival royal dynasty. 

Æthelred
And the next ruler of Mercia was Æthelred. We don’t know how he came to lead when there seems to have been no power struggle and he was not of royal stock, nor if he was ruling independently of Alfred at this stage. There were even members of the royal family still alive, but I’ll come back to them in a moment.

Joint Campaign
The campaign against the Viking invaders is quite long and complicated, but I just want to highlight a couple of incidents. One is when Alfred came to an agreement with a Viking named Hasteinn and where Hasteinn gave oaths and hostages, and his sons were baptized with the sponsorship of Alfred and the ealdorman Æthelred. 
   Another was when Alfred’s son, Edward, besieged the enemy and ‘Earl Æthelred lent his aid to the prince [Edward].’ 
   So the three leaders were clearly working together and are named as doing so in the annals. This is an important point.

Alfred's Will

In his will, Alfred left Æthelred a valuable sword but there is no mention in the document that Æthelred was his son-in-law. This omission could of course be accounted for if the will was drawn up before the marriage took place, but then it seems unlikely that he would have bequeathed anything at that stage to a man whom he hardly knew. This is interesting, because if we relied on this document and the ASC (Anglo-Saxon Chronicle), we wouldn’t know that they were married at all. Only a later Anglo-Norman Chronicler tells us that they were "united in marriage." We don’t know exactly when the wedding took place, and it’s safe to assume that she was younger than him, by some margin. 

So...

Æthelflæd
There is very little mention of her in the chronicles. Asser (the Welsh monk who knew Alfred and wrote his Life) is clear that she was the first-born, and it is sometimes assumed that she was raised somewhere other than the court of Wessex, because Asser said that the two youngest children were at all times fostered at the royal court. But it is a large leap to assume that the other children were not brought up at the Wessex court, and nowhere does Asser specifically say that Æthelflæd was raised elsewhere. If she were, then Mercia would have been a possibility, since her mother was Mercian and her aunt was married to the king of Mercia. Presumably though, had she been sent there, she would have returned to Wessex when her uncle the king fled after the Vikings overran Repton.

Even the later chroniclers don’t have much to say about her. William of Malmesbury (12th century) has barely ten lines about her. He's the one who gives us the story that she refused sex after a difficult labour with her only child. Now, I don't know about you, but my view is that had this lady decided to cease all 'marital relations', it's unlikely that she would have told anyone, much less allow them to write it down...

Henry of Huntington (also 12th century) proclaimed that:

Heroic Elflede! great in martial fame,

was

A queen by title, but in deeds a king.

Heroes before the Mercian heroine quail'd:

Caesar himself to win such glory fail'd.

Henry was clearly rather taken with her, but he got a bit muddled when talking about this family. He seems to think that Æthelred was Æthelflæd’s father and that Ælfwynn was her sister, when in fact they were her husband and her daughter respectively. It's possible that he knew Æthelflæd succeeded Æthelred, but that he didn't know why, so he assumed that she was his daughter.

Æthelweard the Chronicler - writing in the tenth century, so much nearer the events, and a member of the Wessex royal family - still only mentions her once, when he says that ‘the king’s sister’ departed this life. There is no suggestion that she was anyone’s wife, much less that she was at any time in charge of Mercia.
   
We only really know about her after his death. Not even during his presumed illness. So what can we deduce about that illness?

Well,

Early on in his reign, Edward, her brother, faced a rebellion from their cousin, who allied with the Vikings, but the interesting thing about this episode for me was that fighting alongside this rebellious cousin was the son of a man described as ‘the atheling Beornoth’, a Mercian. If this man was a relative of King Burgred, it suggests some simmering resentment at what might have been perceived as West Saxon influence in Mercia. 
   

But what of Æthelred? Despite the fact that these rebels harried Mercia, the ASC says that it was Edward who chased them and faced them down. Could this be the first indication that Æthelred had been taken ill?

In 906 Edward made peace with the Vikings ‘from necessity’. So in a few short years the English resistance had withered from a triumvirate to Edward working, seemingly, on his own. Gone are the comments along the lines of ‘with the aid of Æthelred, earl of the Mercians’ and in 907 an entry merely states that ‘Chester was restored.’

By whom? If it was Edward, or Æthelred, why not say so? It seems strange that at this pivotal time, a woman was allowed to lead, yet it’s hard not to conclude that she was in charge at this time. 
   
We have a couple of sources for Æthelred’s illness (as well as reading between the lines where he’s suddenly no longer mentioned,) although one is just a passing reference.

The other is a fragmentary annal which comes to us from Ireland and is known as the Three Fragments. It's not considered hugely reliable but it does tell us that when Chester was overrun, messengers were sent to the ‘King of the Saxons [Æthelred] who was in a disease and on the point of death.’ And it seems to suggest that she was acting on his advice.

Neither the ASC nor the Mercian Register records his illness, but when Edward gathered West Saxon and Mercian forces and went harrying into Northumbria, there is no mention of Æthelred. 

And when, presumably in retaliation, the Northumbrians broke peace, and ravaged Mercia, at the ensuing battle at Tettenhall, Æthelred is not mentioned. The year before this battle, it was his wife who was credited with building a fortress at a place called Bremesbyrig.

So it's probably fairly safe to conclude that he was indeed ill, and for some time.

Her Rule 
When Æthelred died, Edward took London and Oxford under his direct control. Why was he happy to leave Mercia ‘proper’ to his sister? 
   
Perhaps it was taking him some time to secure his reign. Viking activity was strong, and early on in his reign he had been forced to counter a rival bid for his throne. Perhaps there were other similar incidents. It is possible that by taking Mercia under his direct control he would have been spreading himself too thinly. But, if that were the rationale, why not appoint an ealdorman to rule the province for him in his name? To have a woman leader was not unprecedented but was still rare. He did not allow her daughter to succeed so maybe personal qualities came into play. Because, the question also needs to be asked: why were the Mercians happy to have her as a ruler?
      
We don’t know that Æthelflæd wielded a sword, or even led Mercian troops. The Mercian Register, even though it calls her Lady of the Mercians whereas the ASC only calls her Edward’s sister, focuses on her building programme, rather than the fighting.

So, what is the Mercian Register? It is, or rather they, are a series of entries contained within the ASC and it/they concentrate exclusively on Æthelflæd. It records her death with the words ‘the eighth year in which she had held power with right lordship’. There are only two mentions of Æthelred, once at his death in 911, and once as Ælfwynn’s father. There may have been a lost chronicle, one in which Æthelred played a much more prominent role, which would explain why the chroniclers got confused and also hints again that his status may have been higher than ‘mere’ ealdorman. Note that Ælfwynn is described as his daughter, rather than Æthelflæd's. But, if there were such a chronicle, it's lost to us now.

The focus as we have it now, is very much on Æthelflæd’s role as ruler. But, typed out, it still only covers one A4 sheet of paper. I know, because I've done it!

The years following Æthelred’s death saw his widow and her brother busy with the building programme, with Edward building five fortresses and Æthelflæd building nine and both had the enemy submitting to them. The campaigns appear to have been strategic & coordinated. 

In the middle of all this frenetic activity she sent an army into Brycheiniog (Llangorse Lake). The Mercian Register tells us that this was to avenge the death of an abbot.  

 The following year she took the borough of Derby and
   
in 918 The Three Fragments says that she directed a battle against the Dublin-Norse, ordering her troops to cut down the trees where the ‘pagans’ were hiding. Thus we are led to believe that as well as partnering her brother in an extensive and well-co-ordinated attack on the Danes, she was conducting her own campaign against the Norse.
   
Was she literally leading these armies; where did she learn to do this? It was unprecedented. We are told that an earlier queen of Wessex, who ruled for a year after her husband’s death, was expelled because ‘they would not go to war under the conduct of a woman,’ and notice that it’s only the Three Fragments which states that she was leading troops. 
   
On 12 June 918, as we know, Æthelflæd died here at Tamworth. Her body was taken to Gloucester for burial,  so probably quite a speedy funeral procession, given the time of year! 

The Annals of Ulster recorded the death of the ‘most famous queen of the Saxons’ and the Annales Cambriae recorded that ‘Queen Æthelflæd died’. Is it possible though that they afforded her the royal title because they simply didn’t know what else to call her? The only time they mention her is on the occasion of her death. 

In December 918, Æthelflæd’s daughter was taken into Wessex. The Mercian Register complains that she was ‘deprived of all authority’. Why was Edward content to let his sister govern Mercia, but not her daughter; was it a simple case that the daughter did not match the mother in terms of ability? Timing may be a factor here; it should maybe be noted that by this stage, Edward had adult sons, who needed more inheritance than could be provided by Wessex alone.
   
But that Edward left his sister in charge, firstly after her husband’s incapacitation, and then again after his death, when he could have marched in and brought Mercia under his direct control, surely tells us a lot about her and their relationship. Especially bearing in mind that he did exactly that once she’d died.  

It speaks to me of her personal strengths.

So, how did I go about giving her a voice, without straying from the documented history? 
   

Fictionalising
It's sometimes difficult to know where to begin a novel, but in this case I knew I had to start with her childhood, because here is where I think the relationships must have been forged, particularly her bond with her brother. 

So this family, which included a disaffected cousin, who in all likelihood grew up with the royal children, and a father who must of necessity have been a distant figure (and he's portrayed as such in the book) - how did the campaigns affect his wife who was waiting at home? That’s something I explore.

I did send her to her aunt’s court in Mercia early on. It was important for the novel’s story that she had vague memories of the place, and that she was surprised upon her return to find that she wasn’t welcome. I have no idea if this was true, but if, as we think, there was Mercian resentment to losing power and kingship, it makes sense that they might have been initially hostile to this princess of Wessex. And what the marriage signified for Mercian independence.

Æthelred’s illness was an interesting challenge. It had to be something which laid him low, but that allowed him to be compos mentis, to still be able to give strategic advice, if the Three Fragments is to be believed. It had to be something which allowed him to linger, for the best part of a decade, but that still eventually killed him. 

If I’d stuck to what we know about Æthelflæd, then ironically the book would have been very short. So I did send her to Wales, even though there’s no clear evidence that she went. She ‘sent’ an army into Wales, we're told, but drama is not much good if it’s all happening off-stage, so I let her go with them.

And remember those hostages of Hasteinn’s? I decided to send them to Æthelflæd in Mercia for safe-keeping. This was interesting, because a central theme of the book is that throughout her life, the enemy has been fearsome, destructive, but also unseen. Suddenly, she has to face her demons.

And I used the ‘myths’ that surround her life, but tried to ground them plausibly. The Three Fragments, as I said, not hugely reliable, gives us some juicy detail about the siege of Chester and in particular of certain things which were thrown over the walls at the enemy. So early on I gave her the trait of chucking things when she's in a bad mood, and the things that she throws are also introduced early on, so that when the idea comes to her it's a logical progression rather than appearing from nowhere.

She only had one child – that seems to have been established - but I weaved in a reason why that might have been. And it has little to do with William of Malmesbury's assessment!

People need to trust what they’re reading when it comes to historical fiction so it’s important that we don’t change the facts but we interpret how the characters react. Always asking the question: Why? And we must ground the story in reality:
A sentence in history becomes years of relationship. We can say simply that ‘In around 886 they were married and he was probably older than her by some years.’ But this short sentence becomes chapters and chapters of a novel, where we explore how the relationship developed, how each partner viewed it and what it represented.

I also needed to recreate the Anglo-Saxon world – the food, clothing, lifestyle, agriculture. This involved much reading, research, and I talked to a number of generous and gracious leading academics. I needed to know things such as whether we can say that the ages of puberty & menopause were similar to those of today. I also needed an explosion, set in a world which didn't have gunpowder or cannons. And I was delighted to discover the flammable properties of flour dust! 

Summing Up
She wasn’t a queen because he wasn’t a king. Simple. But why not? Other kings of Mercia had taken the title before, with no direct claim. So, was he Alfred’s vassal then? (Not that they would have used that word.) Their status as a couple is anomalous; unique.

I think that her whole life was lived under the threatening shadow of the Vikings. Her marriage was beyond her control and was only to seal a deal. What interested me was how she then might have dealt with that reality. How did she get the Mercians to accept her? 

I’m going to be a little controversial and say that I don’t actually buy the whole ‘warrior woman’ scenario. People often say that she had an agenda, that she was determined from the outset to make her mark, fight the Vikings, drive them away. I’m not convinced. 

I don’t think the fight would have been easy, or natural for her (Asser focuses on the royal children’s education, not sword practice.) My focus is on her continuing her husband’s fight, not her father’s, which gives a slightly different perspective.

I’ve portrayed her as a woman of her time – she had to fit into her historical setting – but within that, she was still extraordinary, and I wanted to explore how she became so.
I thought about how this woman in a man’s world might have felt when asked to lead a country in a time of war. There must have been a deal of soul-searching, of doubt over whether she could take on the role.

For me, she is a heroine, because of that: the woman I’ve portrayed is one who reacts to her circumstances, develops as she grows, and makes choices which she’s not always happy about. She is, above all, driven by duty – she’s the daughter of a king, after all – and this means personal sacrifice. How would her new life, in an unprecedented role, have affected the mother-daughter relationship?

I think she had to step up, despite her fear. By the time she goes to Wales, she’s exhausted, and battered by the losses she’s suffered. Remember, also, that by this stage, this woman was probably around 50 yrs old. Warrior woman or not, what she achieved was remarkable.

Remarkable, yet barely remarked upon. In this ‘year of women’ it’s a great boon to her reputation that it’s also her anniversary. People are talking about her, and yet we really can fit what we actually know about her into a few short pages. The paradox is that those few short pages can easily expand to fill an entire novel. And yet, hardly anyone has done so. For me, even after years of studying her and writing about her, in fiction and non-fiction, she remains an enigma. And a fascinating one."

To Be A Queen is my novel about The Lady of the Mercians, while she and her husband and daughter have a chapter to themselves in Mercia: The Rise and Fall of a Kingdom, available for pre-order now, to be released in September 2018 by Amberley Publishing [This is now out in paperback too and in 2020 Women of Power in Anglo-Saxon England was also published.]