Escomb Church - Anglo-Saxon Rarity

I love Anglo-Saxon history, but researching it can sometimes be frustrating, not just because of the paucity of surviving documents, but because of the lack of 'locations'. If this blog post were about Anne Boleyn, it would be illustrated with photographs of the Tower of London, and paintings of the lady herself, complete with her famous necklace.

We Anglo-Saxonists aren't quite so fortunate in that regard. Many of the buildings associated with the age no longer exist, buried under later, Norman, edifices. The wooden house at Corfe where Queen Ælfthryth was staying when she murdered, or didn't murder, her stepson King Edward, has long-since disappeared, and even the stone castle built there is now a ruin. There is no surviving artwork which gives us even a rough approximation of how people looked.

Imagine, then, how thrilling it is to be able to visit Escomb Church, built of stone and probably dating to the late seventh century.

Escomb Church is about a mile and a half from Bishop Auckland, home to the Prince Bishops of Durham, and is quite a contrast to the towering grandeur of Durham Cathedral.

I always imagined that Escomb Church, being so ancient, was situated in a small, quaint village, but in fact it sits on a circle of land, surrounded on all sides by modern housing. Yet it exudes calm, an ancient building standing proud, refusing to give up all its secrets, and leaving historians puzzled.

The village of Escomb is mentioned in a grant of land by Bishop Ealdhun, who was bishop of Durham in the tenth century.

Symeon of Durham's Life of St Cuthbert, shows the bishop leasing to "three earls: Ethred, Northman and Uchtred the following lands: Gainford, Whorlton, Sledwich, Barforth, Startforth, Lartington, Marwood Green, Stainton, Streatlam, Cleatlam, Langton, Morton Tinmouth, Piercebridge, Bishop Auckland and West Auckland, Copeland, Weardseatle, Binchester, St Andrew Aucklad (?), Thickley, Escombe, Witton-le-Wear, Hunwick, Newton Cap, Helme Park." (Symeon of Durham. HistoriadeSanctoCuthberto 31.)

It is clear from the architectural evidence, though, that the church itself was built much earlier, but the first puzzle is who built it, and why? We may never know. The second of the puzzles is that the stones in the upper courses are smaller than those lower down. The height of the building and the ground plan perhaps hint at Irish Celtic influence, and the very fact that it was, unusually for Saxon buildings, constructed in stone, might point towards a connection with Gallic chapels.


The chancel arch is believed to have been reassembled from a Roman archway, although the scroll paintwork on the underside is probably much later, perhaps even fifteenth century.

The Saxon cross behind the altar is believed to date from the ninth century, although according to the guide I spoke to, it's possible that it is an earlier 'preaching cross' and actually predates the church.

Of the church windows, the smaller ones which have round headed lintels are thought to have been carved 'in situ', and their design conforms to the earliest period of Saxon building.

Behind the pulpit, carved into the wall, there is a cross, described by my guide as an 'incised consecration cross.' Its shape points once more to an Irish/Celtic influence.

Carvings to the side of a blocked up doorway in the sanctuary are believed to depict Adam and Eve standing beneath the tree of life.

In the porch, which is a later, medieval, addition to the building, there are various Saxon artefacts - the remains of Saxon crosses, and pieces of glass and pottery excavated from the churchyard.

In that churchyard, an unusual gravestone has been dated somewhere between 1100 and 1300, although it was not originally outside, but laid in the floor of the nave.

Above the porch, there is a sundial, which being on the porch, is later medieval, but on the original church wall, there is an older, Anglo-Saxon sun dial:

And so to the final puzzle: why did this church survive? It is a rare thing, indeed - a surviving stone Saxon church, so why has it not been knocked down, or 'improved', other than the addition of the porch?

It is thought that the Prince Bishops of Durham were not interested in building a bigger/better church in such a tiny village. In other words, it has probably - ironically - survived because of a lack of interest. The bishops of Durham, whose official residence is still at Auckland Castle in Bishop Auckland, (pictured below) became virtually autonomous and wielded extraordinary power. Little Escomb Church was in all likelihood a beneficiary, in a strange way, of their almost regal status.

For those interested in the later period of Saxon history, it should be pointed out that Bishop Ealdhun was witness to a charter of King Æthelred in 1009 granting land to Morcar, thegn of the Seven Boroughs. He was also the father of Ecgfritha, who married Uchtred, Earl of Bamburgh. Perhaps a more familiar spelling is Uhtred. He was also known as Uhtred the Bold, he was treacherously killed, and it is he from whom a certain Mr Cornwell claims descent...

[all photographs by and copyright of the author]

Morcar of the Seven Boroughs and Uhtred of Bamburgh feature in my new book Mercia: The Rise and Fall of a Kingdom, to be published by Amberley books on 15 September 2018

The Golden Age of Anglo-Saxon Art

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

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

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

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

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

Attribution Link (Wiki CC Commons)

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

Attribution link

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

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

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

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

Frontispiece of New Minster Charter

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

Showing the inscription. Attribution link

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.
Amazon
Pen & Sword Books



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.]