A discussion of early Anglo-Saxon sources

To what extent can we – or should we – select one date or event as ‘the end of Roman Britain’?

In order to locate the end of Roman Britain it is necessary to conduct a detailed and systematic critique of the available sources from the period that the end of Roman Britain is purported to have come about. This is not such an onerous task as might be expected as sources for the period are scant and offer piecemeal information. After this has been attempted it should be possible to determine if a date or event can be said to mark the end of Roman Britain. At the present time there is a wealth of theories given as to when Roman Britain ended. Dark in his ‘Civitas to Kingdom’ published in 1994 argues that ‘…. Eastern England passed out of Roman political domination in the course of the first decade of the fifth century and was re-defended by sub-Roman authorities in the early to mid fifth century. By the late fifth century, most of it was controlled by Anglo-Saxons,’[1] whilst Higham in his 1994 book argues that ‘it is accepted by all sides that the year 441 represents the date at which Saxon rule within a large part of Britannia became known to a southern Gaulish chronicler,’[2] and as such Roman Britain must have ended by that date at the latest. As these differing interpretations all rely wholly on the same written sources and so it is necessary to have a deep understanding of these sources before reaching any conclusions or agreeing with other historians interpretations of events.

Sources for the end of Roman Britain, which is taken to have occurred from the 5th century onwards, with a readily given date of 410 as the official date for the end of Roman Britain taking after Zosimus who stated that they ‘expelled their Roman rulers and set up their own governments as far as lay within their power’[3], are few and nearly all continental. It must here be noted that even Zosimus is a later commentator so had the advantage of hindsight when writing his work. The only native source is that of Gildas’ De Excidio Britanniae (DEB). This source is extremely problematic and needs to be considered with care and attention. For the purpose of this essay the problems of ancient document transition to our own times will be only lightly touched on, yet it is essential to understand that only the information available to us can be interpreted and if this can be shown to be incorrectly transcribed then the reliance on the source is extremely problematic.

There is still no consensus amongst historians as to when the DEB was actually written. Convincing arguments have been postulated by Higham for a date in 480,

‘he was apparently writing in or about AD480 from the comparative safety (in this context) of a British community between the Thames and the Channel which was under indigenous rule but subject to the ultimate protection of the Saxons.’

Gildas himself comments that the siege of Badon Hill ‘was the year of my birth: as I know one month of the forty-fourth year since then has already passed,’[5] but gives no further details about the year of Badon Hill. This has led to a debate about when Badon Hill took place. This must be seen to be a worthwhile debate as it does mark the only datable event in the entire DEB. Lapidge has further argued for an early sixth century date for Gildas’s writing, whilst admitting that

‘to think in such terms is to imply that much more of the fabric of Roman civilisation was still visible in sixth-century Britain than has hitherto been assumed.’[6]

Coupled with the problems in dating the DEB there is also the difficulty of placing where the DEB was written. Whilst Higham above postulates that it was written in the south of the country, there have been equally convincing arguments that he was writing in the north of the country (Miller) and also that he may have been writing in Wales. The only compelling reason to discredit the northern association with Gildas comes from his confusion over the purpose and building of Hadrian’s Wall which has been taken to show that he was not a native northerner, as does his confusion about the home of the Picts. The geographical location of Gildas has also been assumed to lie outside that of the five tyrants he berated,

‘…. the assumption that he necessarily lived and worked outside their orbit merely because he attacked them so openly is far from conclusive.’[7]

This carries with it the assumption that we can correctly place the five tyrants and this is not always the case. Surely for an assumption to be based on the available information, that information must be seen to be above reinterpretation!

It is also important to understand the motives behind Gildas’s DEB. Certainly it is no dry chronicle with a list of consular dates and appropriate happenings. Gildas was writing at a time when he feared for the spiritual welfare of the people of Britain. His intention was not to provide as concise and accurate history of Britain as he could write. Instead it was to highlight the plight he felt the Britons to be in. As such his emphasis was not on the facts that historians would find most useful in determining the end of Roman Britain but in finding facts that fit his intended template – that Britons could find respite from the evils that had befallen them by seeing to their own spiritual welfare. As Higham states,

‘Gildas was not writing an objective, historical account of British history but a piece of dialectic which utilised the past to establish a system of causality appropriate to the present.’[8] ‘Gildas’s business was with examples and anecdotes, not the continuous warp of history and his case might well have been weakened by reference to more than a single exemplar of each sort.’[9]

So what does Gildas actually tell the reader about the state of Britain at this time? Again, this is not a simple question to answer. Regardless of where Gildas wrote his work his view of Britain at that time was differentiated by the Roman view of Britain,

‘his Britannia was … close kin to the Britanniae – the provinces of the late Roman British diocese. He may even have been ignorant of the survival of free indigenous communities in the far north throughout the Roman period, if he ever considered the question.’[10]

This means that his work informs about the areas of Britain which were Romanised – that is the lowland areas of Britain, namely the south of Britain, whilst his tyrants are thought to have lived in what is now Cornwall and Wales (Higham). The content of his work also informs that,

‘the most frightening feature …. is not the destruction of city life in Britain, or the breakup of the imperial system with its guarantee of peaceful life, but rather the destruction of knowledge itself – knowledge of the outside world and knowledge of the past had been wiped out of men’s minds.’[11]

With specific reference to events in Britain at this time Gildas informs of the career of the usurper Maximus; of him taking troops away from Britain when he left ; of the invasions of Scots and Picts at this time and the request that was sent to Rome to ask for aid. He tells how they did receive some aid but that the troops quickly returned home and that the Scots and Picts quickly reasserted themselves, and that when Rome was again appealed to for help, Britain was told to defend itself although Rome did offer advice on how this should be done. However the Scots and Picts again returned and the people of Britain sent a letter to Aetius asking for assistance but received none. In the meantime Britain was devastated by famine, and attacks from the Irish, whilst the Picts stayed home for once. During this time the people recovered and the island became wealthy and turned away from their Christianity. Then the ‘old enemy’

Gildas then goes on to detail some of the kings who have ruled in Britain, naming five of them and giving them all various crimes against God. Those listed are Constantine, Aurelius Caninus, Vortipor, Cuneglasus and Maglocunus, with the implication that there was a further sixth Saxon king,

‘Gildas offers a vision of a contemporary Britain which was unevenly divided between the five British tyrants in the west and a powerful, but shadowy, Saxon king ruling the remainder.’

Thus, Gildas is actually incredibly informed about events in Britain at this time, or at least what was the Roman province of The impression given is of an island in constant flux and constant danger of invasion, which is ultimately abandoned by its Roman overseers. However, the lack of dates makes the whole narrative extremely difficult to piece together with any amount of precision. From Gildas it is fair to say that he presents a picture of the province of Britanniae which is constantly changing, and of course for Gildas, in mortal peril of losing its place under the watchful eye of God.

So what else can be implied about Britain at this time from the words of Gildas? Britain was by this time, obviously, open to the ideas of Christianity. It has been argued persuasively by both Dark and Thompson that Britain at the end of the Roman age was becoming increasingly Christian – either from the bottom up – that is from the lower classes (Dark) or from the top down – that is from the upper classes(Thompson). Whichever viewpoint is taken it is important to remember that the Roman Empire had only relatively recently adopted Christianity as its main religion, displacing the pagan gods. As such Britain had been influenced enough by the time of Gildas’s writing that he could safely assume that his intended audience would understand his biblical references and his desire for spiritual reform.

It could be said that the person of Gildas himself is more important than his writing. The fact that he wrote in Latin, the language of the Roman aristocracy and administration points to an education received in Latin; the fact that he wrote about Britain in mainly biblical terms which he believed his audience would understand; the fact that he used as his base earlier Latin texts; and the fact that it can be argued that his writing was actually intended as a sermon points very much to the culture of Rome still being current and immediate when he produced his DEB. This could be said to show a continuing Roman culture when the Romans should have already left British shores, and so perhaps pushing the end of Roman Britain further back than the year 410. As Higham argues,

‘Gildas’s own education in grammar and rhetoric may imply that the law courts and magistracies, which had provided the normal career path of the aristocracy in the Roman provinces, were still functioning, or at least expected to resume functioning, when his parents were considering his educational needs, some thirty years before the date of composition.’[15]

He also asserts that ‘perhaps it was his own (Gildas’s) generation which was the first to witness the final separation of civil government and jurisdiction from its traditional urban setting.’[16] Gildas offers something more than a narrative of the end of Roman Britain as he in a sense embodies the end of Roman Britain. If it can be said with confidence that Gildas was a product of the last generation of Romanised gentry in Britain then he presided over the final severance of Britain from Rome, whenever that happened.

The writings contained in the other sources purporting to date from the fifth century are less detailed and yet the work of disentangling the author from his background is just as relevant if the work is to be correctly interpreted. The work of Constantius of Lyon on St Germanus of Auxerre was written circa 480-490 and before 494, according to Thompson, and so could be said to have been written at the same that Gildas was writing, if we accept Higham’s view on dating. It is a work of hagiography and as such does not have as its basis a historically accurate account of St Germanus, and indeed contains no dates. It was written up to 60 years after events which are mentioned in it, and it is important to bear in mind this time discrepancy between its characters and its author. The only datable moment stems from a notice in Prosper’s Chronicle which dates Germanus’ visit to Britain to 429. However, is it prudent to rely on another ancient text to verify an entry in an equally ancient text? The purpose of the work is always to show St Germanus in as good a light as possible, possibly to the detriment of then known facts, which can now no longer be independently verified. As Thompson argues, ‘we must not be over-optimistic about our chances of learning much about the history of fifth century Britain from his pages.’[17] However, it behoves the historian to try for the simple reason that it is a contemporary source, ‘we cannot afford to ignore any ancient author who speaks at some length about Britain.’[18] This work can be placed geographically and the author is well known, an advantage over the work of Gildas. With this work it is possible to interpret the authors’ bias and also account for information contained or omitted within its text.

Constantius’ text relating to Britain concerns the visit of St Germanus to Britain to counter the Pelagian threat. There is much debate as to whether or not he visited Britain once, or twice and when these visits took place. As mentioned above, the first visit has been dated to 429 through correlation with Prosper’s Chronicles. Whether it is a correct assumption to marry the two sources together or not, is certainly open to debate and needs to be borne in mind when discussing the validity of either text to the debate on the state of Britain in the fifth century. However the text is relevant and informative about certain aspects of Britain at this time, and must be explored in depth for this information. Thompson has written at great length on this work and has made a number of valuable comments about what the Pelagian controversy in Britain means about the state of Romanisation in Britain at this time. The fact that the controversy spread so quickly and was so popular has lead Thompson to argue that this ‘was perhaps only possible in a land where the Emperor’s power could no longer be felt’.[19] When on his second visit to Britain Constantius informs that the Pelagians were sent into exile by the Church congregation Thompson argues,

‘where else in the Roman world, or in what had until recently been the Roman world, could a preacher’s congregation send men into exile?’[20]

Following this argument forward, Thompson wonders if this action could have been taken as a result of knowledge of the law enacted by Honorius on 30/4/418 which decreed that anyone found discussing Pelagianism were liable to be arrested by anyone and condemned to inexorable exile. If this were the case then it would show that Roman law still had some validity in Britain in the 430’s onwards. However this argument is slightly laboured and Thompson is quick to comment that ‘it would be a bold man who would assert that Roman legislation of 418 could have been enforced in Britain in the 430s or 440s’.[21] Again this may simply be a matter of Constantius being aware of this legislation when he wrote in the 480s and using it to make Germanus appear in as Christian light as possible. Indeed the very incident has doubt cast on it by a source written by Prosper which states that the Pope was responsible for removing the Pelagians from Britain.

‘All in all, these events suggest that Britain was still subject to the Roman Church if not to the Emperor and that papal policy was being pursued with confidence on the fringes of the world’. [22]

What does the fact that Constantius allows the congregation to remove the threat of heresy from Britain say about those who were in power at this time? Constantius has very sparse detail about Britain and mentions only one British name and gives no indication of political authority at the time.

‘What the Vita describes seems to be a land from which the Roman administration has wholly disappeared and in which, apart from the indifferent man of tribunician power, nothing very obvious has taken its place’.[23]

This cannot be taken to mean that there was none. Constantius is ill informed about Britain. In contrasting his work with Proper’s he also states that,

‘Prosper gives us in five lines of the printed text more ‘hard’ information about the ecclesiastical position in Britain than Constantius is able to convey, or choose to convey, in many pages’.[24]

Perhaps in view of all these difficulties it would be better to disregard anything that Constantius writes about Britain at this time as many of his comments simply invite more questions than they answer? Perhaps as with Gildas, it would be better to look at the person of Constantius himself and make comments based on what he himself embodies? In which case it would be that those on the Continent, even those within the church hierarchy, were ill informed about events in Britain at this time.

Yet there are other sources which show that this may not have been the case. Prosper of Aquitaine and the anonymous author of the chronicle of 452 were also working on the continent and whilst constrained by the style they wrote in, that of continuators of Jerome’s Chronicles, they do make some mention of Britain during the fifth century. Prosper first added to Jerome’s Chronicles in 433 and then according to Muhlberger, returned to the Chronicles again on numerous occasions between 433 and 455. He produced at least 4 versions of his text and the best informed versions are those of 445 and 455 – there are no complete copies of the 451 edition and that of 433 can only be detected by a close examination of the later editions. This is important to note. Prosper had 22 years to think about events he transcribes and it is possible that his viewpoints may have changed during this time and revisions might have been made dependent on later consequences of the actions commented upon. Prosper seems to have come from Aquitaine and then moved to Provence and finally onto Rome and seems to have been born around 390. His chronicle was ‘immediately popular, finding readers during his lifetime not only in Rome but also in Africa’.

Prosper records the first expedition of Germanus to Britain in Chapter 1301, which has been used to collaborate the work of Constantius. ‘It is one of the few notices of British affairs after 410 by any fifth century author’ [26] but as Muhlberger comments,

‘he had no more intrinsic interest in Britain than the majority of his contemporaries … the story was included to commemorate another victory for the orthodox over the Pelagians, and even more to demonstrate the leading part taken by the Roman church in the fight for the true faith, even in remote corners of the world’.[27]

As such, once again, the information available now is tempered with the bias of the author and his overwhelming concern with glorifying the Christian church.

A further source is that of the anonymous Chronicler of 452. This source has recently undergone a revival and historians are now more readily accepting of the information contained within it. However, the fact that it is anonymous presents problems akin to the work of Gildas. It is not possible to determine who the author was and what his bias was. It is necessary to allude this information from that given in the text and also from the manuscript tradition. What can be said with some certainty is that,

‘he was, like Prosper, a devout Christian of an ascetic bent, he even seems to have lived in Marseille, where Prosper resided in the 420s and 430s’.[28]

Yet Muhlberger makes the point that ‘the two men were not in sympathy’[29]. Whilst it can be argued that both men were writing at a similar time they both have completely different outlooks on events at this time and the anonymous author of 452 ‘saw decline and defeat affecting both church and state.’[30] So what does the author inform of events in Britain at this time. In Chapter 62 he stated, ‘The British provinces were laid waste by an invasion of Saxons’ and in chapter 126 ‘The British provinces, which up to this time had suffered various defeats and catastrophes, were reduced to Saxon rule’. This entry has been dated to 440-441. Yet, ‘he had no profound interest in Britain and possessed few details about conditions there. He simply invoked the name of Britain to supplement his pictures of a defeated empire in the process of disintegration.’[31] Still, he provides information that no other sources does – the victories that Magnus Maximus won over the Picts and Scots before he went to Gaul. Muhlberger has compared the works of the Chronicler of 452 with the work of Narration De Imperatorbis Domnus Valentinianae et Theodosianae and has concluded from this work that the Chronicler of 452 viewed events differently in Britain and that ‘something occurred about a decade before the Chronicler wrote that appeared to mark the transition between a Britain harassed by enemies and suffering from disaster, and a Britain finally subjugated by the Saxons.’[32] His source viewed this as happening under the reign of Honorius when ‘Britain was forever removed from the Roman name’[33] whereas the 452 Chronicler viewed this as happening in 440-441, thirty years later. It must be borne in mind that the Chronicler ‘was preoccupied with events that might seem unimportant to us … but which to him were near and threatening.’

An examination of the main ‘historical’ sources for the fifth century in Britain leaves a gaping hole where knowledge has been forever lost. However it would be wrong to discredit all these sources on the grounds mentioned above – be they bias or inability to place adequately in time and place,

As Muhlberger comments,

‘the words of the fifth century chronicles have been preserved for us not because of their individual brilliance, but because they took part in a collective enterprise … they were contributing to the continuing history of the church, in the hope that their part in it would be useful and instructive for those who followed them.’[36]

This can also be applied to Gildas, although Muhlberger was mainly writing with the continental fifth century chronicles of Prosper, 452 and Hydatius in mind. As such what is left to the historian is the preoccupation of Christian men to a world that appeared to be fracturing and for which the only salvation that could be found was in the words of God and works to the glory of God. Any other information provided is purely secondary to the primary purpose.

It would be wrong to pick and choose which information was most relevant from these sources and this is something that historians needs to desist from doing. The work of the chroniclers was relevant and immediate to the time they were written. It was history in the making and needs to be considered as a whole, whilst understanding its limitations. All sources agree that at some point in the fifth century the idea of a Roman Britain came to an end – that is the physical presence of Romans in Britain appeared to come to an end. That’s not the same thing as saying that Roman Britain ended. The administration and physical structure of Britain remained to a greater or lesser degree for much of this time, and depending on when Gildas’s work is dated to, can be seen to be embodied in the very presence of Gildas himself. It would also be incorrect to assume that just because generals and troops failed to come to Britain during this time that Roman involvement ended. Certainly, the church was involved in Britain as the works of Constantinus, Prosper and the anonymous work of 452 are at pains to show. The Saxons may have arrived, and they may have taken over the government of much of the old Britannia. How they did so is open to debate, but it would be safe to assume that after the rape and pillaging had taken place, they took advantage of the superstructure already in place and more than likely, benefited from it.

The year 2010 will give historians and archaeologists alike the opportunity to use the 1600 year anniversary of the supposed exit of the Romans from Britain to question accepted beliefs and to look a little further than the written sources available from the time that Roman Britain can be said to have ended. As archaeology is constantly finding new fifth centurysites, and especially coins, it has become understandable that the standardised interpretation of the beginning and end of Roman Britain can no longer be sustained. Archaeologists and historians need to work together, with other specialists, such as numismatics to clearly define when Roman Britain ended, if it did at all. Surely it would be far more helpful to see Roman Britain merging into sub-Roman Britain before again merging into Anglo-Saxon England. Perhaps it is the continuity which needs to be stressed instead of the break. Britain was not unified before the Romans came, during the Roman ‘occupation’ or after the Romans had left. As such the idea of a ‘Roman’ Britain is erroneous to start with. There are a number of problems the most fundamental is that there needs to be a coherent and agreed definition of what Roman Britain was, what came before it, and what came after. Only then can it be even remotely possible to determine if it ended and when that end came about. None of these concepts is easy to define, because when the available evidence for the entire 500 or so years which encompasses Britain before the Romans, after the Romans, and also during the Romans, is examined, the sources available are slight, and it is imperative that archaeology, linguistics and science are used to supplement the scanty sources available. These historical sources need to be examined within the context that they were written, and analysed for the information that they can provide not for the information that it is beyond their powers to supply. What can be said with certainty is that the answer cannot yet be definitively defined, as Sam Moorhead says in the March/April edition of British Archaeology when discussing the 1600 year anniversary of the ‘end of Roman Britain’, ‘by the end of 2010 …. we will know much more about the end of Roman Britain. But we will probably all still disagree when it ended!’

The historians of the fifth century all disagreed on when Roman Britain ended, and Wood gives a valuable argument as to why this was so,

‘there is nothing to suggest that the people of Britain were worried by these developments; already they had passed out of the Imperial orbit, but they had done so slowly and without any clear awareness of the significance of the changes taking place.’[38]

‘Ultimately the end of Roman Britain is the history of fifth and sixth century opinion and, because of the nature of our sources, Continental opinion at that,’[39] as such it is not our place to say when Roman Britain ended – we need to look back to the commentators of the day and accept their opinions and view on what was happening. Hindsight cannot play a part because it is too easy to adopt our own biases and inflict them on the past. As such all that can be said with confidence is that at some point in the fifth century, Romanised Britain ceased to be a part of the Roman Empire in the physical sense of belonging, and nothing further than that can be confidently asserted.

[1] K. R Dark, Civitas to Kingdom – British Political Continuity 300-800’(Leicester, 1994) Pg 54

[2] N Higham The English Conquest: Gildas and Britain in the Fifth Century (Manchester, 1994)Pg 121

[3] S. Ireland Roman Britain, A Sourcebook (New York, 1986) pg 168-9

[4]N. Higham The English Conquest: Gildas and Britain in the Fifth Century (Manchester, 1994) Pg 176

[5] M. Winterbottom, (ed. And trans), Gildas: The Ruin of Britain and Other Documents. Arthurian Periiod Sources Vol 7 (Chichester, 1978)Pg 28

[6] M. Lapidge., ‘Gildas’s Education and the Latin Culture of Sub Roman Britain’ in M.Lapidge and D.N. Dumville (eds), Gildas: New Approaches (Woodbridge, 1984), pp27-50 pg 50

[7] N. Higham The English Conquest: Gildas and Britain in the Fifth Century (Manchester, 1994)Pg 97 ???

[8] N Higham ‘The English Conquest: Gildas and Britain in the Fifth Century’ (Manchester, 1994)Pg 21

[9] N Higham ‘The English Conquest: Gildas and Britain in the Fifth Century’ (Manchester, 1994)Pg 21

[10] N Higham ‘The English Conquest: Gildas and Britain in the Fifth Century’ (Manchester, 1994)Pg 90

[11] E A Thompson., Germanus of Auxerre and the End of Roman Britain (Woodbridge, 1984) pg 115

[12] M. Winterbottom, (ed. And trans), Gildas: The Ruin of Britain and Other Documents. Arthurian Period Sources Vol 7 (Chichester, 1978)Pg 25

[13] M. Winterbottom, (ed. And trans), Gildas: The Ruin of Britain and Other Documents. Arthurian Period Sources Vol 7 (Chichester, 1978)Pg 27

[14] N Higham The English Conquest: Gildas and Britain in the Fifth Century (Manchester, 1994)Pg 166

[15] N Higham The English Conquest: Gildas and Britain in the Fifth Century (Manchester, 1994)Pg 158

[16] N Higham The English Conquest: Gildas and Britain in the Fifth Century (Manchester, 1994)Pg 158

[17] E A Thompson., Germanus of Auxerre and the End of Roman Britain (Woodbridge, 1984) pg 14

[18] E A Thompson., Germanus of Auxerre and the End of Roman Britain (Woodbridge, 1984) pg ix

[19] E A Thompson., Germanus of Auxerre and the End of Roman Britain (Woodbridge, 1984) Pg 22

[20] E A Thompson., Germanus of Auxerre and the End of Roman Britain (Woodbridge, 1984) Pg 28

[21] E A Thompson., Germanus of Auxerre and the End of Roman Britain (Woodbridge, 1984) Pg 29

[22] I Wood, ;The End of Roman Britain: Continental Evidence and Parallels’ in M Lapidge and D.N. Dumville (eds) Gildas: New Approaches (Woodbridge, 1984) 1-25 Pg14

[23] E A Thompson., Germanus of Auxerre and the End of Roman Britain (Woodbridge, 1984) Pg 32

[24] E A Thompson., Germanus of Auxerre and the End of Roman Britain (Woodbridge, 1984) Pg 23

[25] S Muhlberger The Fifth Century Chroniclers. Prosper, Hydatius and the Gallic Chronicler of 452 (Leeds, 1990) Pg Pg 55

[26] S Muhlberger The Fifth Century Chroniclers. Prosper, Hydatius and the Gallic Chronicler of 452 (Leeds, 1990) Pg Pg 84

[27] S Muhlberger The Fifth Century Chroniclers. Prosper, Hydatius and the Gallic Chronicler of 452 (Leeds, 1990) Pg Pg 85

[28]S Muhlberger The Fifth Century Chroniclers. Prosper, Hydatius and the Gallic Chronicler of 452 (Leeds, 1990) Pg 136

[29] S Muhlberger The Fifth Century Chroniclers. Prosper, Hydatius and the Gallic Chronicler of 452 (Leeds, 1990) Pg 136

[30] S Muhlberger The Fifth Century Chroniclers. Prosper, Hydatius and the Gallic Chronicler of 452 (Leeds, 1990) Pg Pg 136

[31] S Muhlberger The Fifth Century Chroniclers. Prosper, Hydatius and the Gallic Chronicler of 452 (Leeds, 1990) Pg 179

[32] S Muhlberger The Fifth Century Chroniclers. Prosper, Hydatius and the Gallic Chronicler of 452 (Leeds, 1990) Pg 179

[33] S Muhlberger The Fifth Century Chroniclers. Prosper, Hydatius and the Gallic Chronicler of 452 (Leeds, 1990)Pg 179

[34] S Muhlberger The Fifth Century Chroniclers. Prosper, Hydatius and the Gallic Chronicler of 452 (Leeds, 1990) Pg 179

[35] E.A Thompson, Germanus of Auxerre and the End of Roman Britain pg 6

[36] S Muhlberger The Fifth Century Chroniclers. Prosper, Hydatius and the Gallic Chronicler of 452 (Leeds, 1990) Pg 278

[37] Sam Moorhead, British Archaeology March/April 2010 pg 21

[38] I Wood, ;The End of Roman Britain: Continental Evidence and Parallels’ in M Lapidge and D.N. Dumville (eds) Gildas: New Approaches (Woodbridge, 1984) 1-25 Pg1-2 Ian Wood Pg 25

[39] I Wood, ;The End of Roman Britain: Continental Evidence and Parallels’ in M Lapidge and D.N. Dumville (eds) Gildas: New Approaches (Woodbridge, 1984) 1-25 Pg1-2 Ian Wood

The role of the historical fiction writer

Now, I’ve made no secret of the fact that I think historical fiction writers have a duty to portray history as accurately as possible and I think this should be the most up to date interpretations of the past, and not what people were taught in the classroom at school, often quite some time ago, or what’s to be found in popular ‘history’ books often written by presenters from the TV who simply regurgitate the same old supposed facts.

History, contrary to popular opinion, is not an old, dead, subject. In fact it can be very current (I’m just reading about a new copy of the Magna Carta that’s been found abandoned in an old scrapbook) and it changes as more and more information is unearthed or rethought.

Now, this problem doesn’t only affect historical fiction authors, but often those who are eminent scholars in other fields who want to cross-reference with history. Archaeology is only the most obvious of these. Archaeologists aren’t historians, and vice-versa, and as close as the two subjects are, their cross over points can be poles apart. Archaeologists and historians both use each others research to ‘prove’ their arguments but they often rely on outdated interpretations and aren’t always aware of the most up to date research. This can cause huge problems, and I think that all scholars have a duty to seek out experts who can provide the correct current thinking, even if they ultimately question it and offer an alternative.

So what of historical fiction writers? Too often I see old stereotypes being portrayed and no efforts being made to write something that’s factually accurate but different to the accepted norm and this means that time and time again, outdated ideas and even completely incorrect stories are being written about historical figures and being accepted by a huge majority of people because it says it in a book. Not only does it stifle historical research because it means that readers don’t question the story, it also means that incorrect historical ideas are constantly being reinforced. As an historian, I’ve been taught never to really accept what’s written, to look for the bias, look for who gains from a certain take on events, to look at why things are written just as much as what’s actually written. I take this as normal behaviour, but I’m starting to think I might be wrong and that worries me. What if people really think that Elizabeth I did have an affair with Dudley? What if people really do think that Henry VIII was just a dirty old man who went through six wives in seemingly rapid succession (forgetting all together that he was ‘happily’ married for nearly 20 years before all that kicked off)?

If you’re a historical fiction writer, think about why you use the information that you do, and more importantly, if you’re a reader, please think about how the characters are used and why and if you can, dig a little deeper, look for the ‘truth’ because it’s more than likely very, very different from what’s being portrayed. Even seemingly small touches can damn an entire book or TV show. Find the reason, and then, hopefully, the ‘facts’ might make themselves a little clearer.

Why do I do this to myself!!! It’s, like, a 300 year gap!!!

Sometimes, sometimes, I wonder why I make my life so difficult!

Let me explain.

So, for my dissertation, I was going to study the early years of Iceland and compare them with the developments in the Danelaw, only then I got sidetracked by Leofwine, Ealdorman of the Hwicce, and from him grew both my dissertation and The Earls of Mercia series following the Ealdorman through the years from 994-1067 (eventually). And I should have been happy. Only, someone mentioned that they really wanted to know what happened between Alfred and Aethelred II and so Brunanburh (937) was born, and Of Kings and Half Kings (939-942).

Now, I have no one to blame for my next project, Haedfeld, because it was my idea but, but, well the battle of Haedfeld (excuse my lack of Anglo-Saxon characters but it doesn’t always work on my laptop) was entirely my own idea but it takes place in 632/3 and that brings a whole load of new problems. I know the time period, vaguely, and I’ve studied the old Northumbrian Supremacy, Mercian Supremacy and finally the Wessex Supremacy, but I feel as though I’ve wondered into an entirely different minefield of pseudo facts and facts. I know I only have myself to blame, but it’s made me realise how easy it is to forget the great span of time that the Anglo-Saxon period covers. Starting somewhere in the fifth century and running all the way to the eleventh, that’s nearly 600 years.

Now put it into context, if I was trying to do that with this year, I’d be going all the way back to the 1400’s and the War of the Roses and the end of the Hundred Years War. That’s a huge time period! Think of all the facts and pseudo facts we know about that huge chunk of time. So, that done, I’m trying to give myself a breather, think about what I’m doing and not stress too much about the whole thing. Haedfeld and all those other events I want to write about will happen, but I need my research to be firmer before I make a fool of myself.

Still I got deny that I’m very excited about bringing the rascally Penda to life and maybe one day I’ll turn my attention on that Offa as well. Time will tell.

When historical fiction doesn’t portray a time period the way you think it should!

Historical fiction has a lot to live up to – namely, making sure it corresponds with the way you personally view history. If you study a period as an academic, you get a ‘feel’ for the way history should be written, you relate to your characters and imagine them being a certain way. When historical fiction authors get their greasy paws on them, this can all go hideously wrong. And not just academic history, the repeating of outdated and outmoded historical facts can also cause the same problem. Many don’t realise that academic historical fiction evolves every generation or so, and prevailing thoughts and ideas get changed.

As a writer and reader I experience this problem quite a bit. As I’ve said before, I discovered my love of history by studying the Elizabethan period. Historical fiction, and especially historical romantic history, has flourished since I first studied Elizabeth I, and whilst to start with I found it quite enjoyable, the more and more that’s written, with the need for the author to get a different ‘edge’ I’ve found myself falling out of love with a lot of my favourite authors and now I actually physically groan every time I see a new title about the Elizabethan Court (and it’s not just historical fiction that has me groaning – historical non-fiction does as well). Neither is it just Elizabeth, but actually many of the Tudors and sometimes its because it’s many different authors rehashing the same story about the same characters. There are so many fascinating people during the Tudor age that I feel someone should get a look in sometimes.

Now, this isn’t necessarily the author’s fault. I have a real feel for who Elizabeth I was, and the older I get, the more I can relate to her and her inability to make a decision which drove men such as Cecil and Leicester to distraction. If an author goes against my ‘gut’ feelings, I simply can’t read their books. It doesn’t mean their stories are no good, just that they’re not quite my cup of tea anymore.

I think that fantasy is far more freeing when I write. No one can tell me what happens on Unison because, hey, I made it up in my head and I can do what I want with my characters provided it’s ‘believable’ in the fictitious world I’ve created (even if it is based on Viking Age Iceland).

Authors write for a purpose and it might be for the thrill of it, or it might be to educate, or it might just be because they’ve got an agenda in mind. I write historical fiction because I want the people from the Anglo-Saxon period to be seen as men and women who could as easily live today as they did then. I want them to seem personable and realistic and not stereotyped. I want people to stop thinking all Vikings had helmets with horns and did nothing but scream blue murder all their lives. Times might have been bloody, but as I’ve mentioned before, Anglo-Saxon England wasn’t the Middle Ages. The men and women were intelligent and didn’t live in squalor. Women were valued (because the Church hadn’t yet relegated them to mens playthings) but it was a time of strong men, Kings and Warriors, priests and archbishops and they are the people who shine through the sources available to us.

The governance was strong, the economy rich and sophisticated (why else did the Vikings want to conquer England?), the King’s ruled with the help of their ealdormen and reeves, archbishops and bishops and women held their own power, in their nunneries or within the King’s Witan or their own households.

The idea that the Anglo-Saxons lived in squalid little wooden huts, in the ruins of the mighty Roman Empire, has long been disproved. The Grubenhaus was for storage, with a raised wooden floor, not so the people could live with the rats and the mud. The land was good and harvested well, the people grew hedges (many of which can be dated to very ancient times) and wicker fences demarcated land.

The Anglo-Saxons were people like you and me, with a horse instead of a car, and a stout wooden hall instead of a brick built house, and yes, they might not have had potatoes but hey, there are meals that can be cooked without the good old tatie!

That said, my vision of Anglo-Saxon England will still grate and cause offence. I’d apologise but, I’m writing fiction interspersed with as many facts as possible. That’s a lot more than some people write!

So please, enjoy my writing but know that it is my writing!

Northman Part 2 – The Earls of Mercia Book 4

Oh, yeah, merely days until release now. I’ve typed my fingers a few millimetres shorter than they should be, and I’ve edited until I can’t remember where ‘ ” , . and ; should all actually be placed, but hopefully … yes hopefully, it’s not got any glaring plot holes or annoying bits where I’ve gone over past events and put a different sheen on them.

I feel pleased and relieved in equal measure to have finished the book because it takes me past the point that I’ve most heavily researched so far which means that I know get to do some more research and fill in all the gaping holes on my ‘time line charts’ that I use when I’m constructing a plot. The thing with historical fiction is you have to research past the time limit you want to write about, as well as before, so that you get the context for events correct.

But enough of me, here’s another little glimpse into the world of Northman Part 2. Enjoy.

Chapter 11 – 1014 – Leofric – London

He barely knew where to look and who to make eye contact with. Not that he was an untried youth at the Witan, but right now, there was such a swirl of alliances and counter-alliances that it was almost safer to speak to no one.

That said, his father had instructed him to speak with whom he could and learn what he could, but he felt a little tongue tied, a little unsure of himself. He was, after all, clearly marked as Ealdorman Leofwine’s son, the good one, the one who didn’t contravene every action his father made. It was almost as much of a burden as the one his older brother carried. For some reason, because he was the good son, men and women of the royal Witan felt as though they could ask him anything, allude to all sorts of rumours that they’d heard about Northman, and generally make him feel uncomfortable. It was difficult to keep up the pretence of outrage sometimes, and they’d been more than one occasion where he’d had to bite his lip to stop himself from saying something that would put a lie to what was really happening.

As his brother walked past him, he blankly looked through him, but all the time, he was communicating as best he could with the older brother he felt he’d barely begun to know. He’d enjoyed their time together when they’d been trapped inside London, and then had stayed there to welcome their new King. This lightening fast change back to the rift that ran through their family was unwelcome and distressing. He missed his brother already and it had only been a handful of days. They’d been close as small children, very close and he’d always been a little in awe of him and keen to be just like him. He still held to that belief now, but he knew in his heart that he’d never be able to endure what his brother had. He simply wasn’t strong enough to turn his back on his family. He needed them.

He felt a cold nudge on his hand, and tweaked the ear of his faithful hound. Unlike his brother and his father, his original hound had died three years ago, and now he had a new one, a well-trained female but a magnet for the male dogs anywhere he took her. He’d wanted to name her Hunter after his father’s old dog, but his mother had asked him not to, saying that his father still thought of his old dog too often. Instead he’d named her Beauty, his mother having told him that Killer was perhaps inappropriate, although she’d said it with a wry smile. She was a good hound, and faithful to the end. In this room of people and animals, she was happier than him, but pleased to keep him comfortable as he brooded on the events that had befallen his family since Swein claimed the throne.

He’d heard far more of the debates of the ealdormen than they thought, and he’d decided that all of them were fools for not gifting the throne to Cnut. He thought Cnut was the sort of dynamic King that his country needed. He knew how to use his sword and shield, and he also seemed to know when it was better to use the power of his tongue and thoughts. Leofric could admit that he was under the spell of the older youth. He didn’t begrudge him his new wife, but he would have quite liked his ships and the respect he’d earned from his men and his father’s men.

He’d not voiced his opinions to his father because he knew he already half shared them, and that was enough for Leofric. His father was a man of deep thoughts and careful actions. Leofric knew he was rash and more personable and he also knew that if he didn’t watch what he said and did, he’d land himself in trouble, and not with his father, but with his father’s enemies. As such, being at the Witan was difficult for him. He had to watch his every word and his every action.

It was quite simply easier for him to sit with his hound than with anyone else.

Not that there weren’t other youths at the Witan that he could have spoken to. It was just that they were all someone else’s sons, or someone else’s nephews and they were all as constrained as he was.

And there weren’t many young lady’s either. They were all at their respective homes, locked up tight against the ravages of either Cnut or the uncouth young men of the Witan. His own sister was in the same predicament, and he knew she loathed it. He almost pitied his mother for having to listen to her near constant grumbling about how unfair it all was. Almost. He couldn’t deny that he was pleased she wasn’t there bending his ear.

His father walked towards them, a faint smile on his tired face.

“Have they all gone to plot?” he asked, turning so that he stood beside his son and looked out at the other people walking through the hall, conversing as they went, or just intent on their next errand.

“Yes, Northman called on Uhtred, Olaf and Thorkell.”

His father nodded as though he’d expected it.

“Well, I didn’t expect him to include me,” he chuckled darkly. “His hatred for me, whilst still uncalled for, has never faltered in the last ten years.”

Leofric wasn’t used to his father speaking to him quite so openly, and he struggled for a moment to think of a reply.

“If you’re to serve me in any capacity at the Witan, you’ll have to get used to hearing my thoughts, and responding as you think yourself,” his father said, his words surprising Leofric. “I don’t surround myself with men who only tell me what I want to hear,” his father continued, “and don’t forget that. But don’t make up opinions just to be difficult either. Horic and Wulfstan always told me everything they thought, whether I wanted to hear it or not. Oscetel is a little more circumspect, he thinks before he speaks, but I need to hear everything all the same. So what do you think about today’s events.”

Leofric gave the question the attention it deserved before he spoke.

“It’s just like it always was,” he finally said, his eyes taking in the expansive room and the people pressed within it. The din of conversation

was almost deafening in the confined space and he’d have liked nothing more than to escape.

“It is, you’re right, and that’s what we have to be aware of. It’s as it always has been. It’s as if the winter months never happened, and I don’t think that Aethelred will take kindly to anyone who reminds him of his temporary banishment. Once Eadric has chased Cnut from our land, the King will expect everything to fall into place as it used to do. I hear he’s sending messengers and men to bring Emma and the children home.”

Leofric knew that his father wasn’t saying something with his words, for all that they appeared open and honest enough, and then he grasped it.

“You don’t think it’ll be like it was before?”

“No, I don’t, and good lad. The King is a fool if he doesn’t realise how much has changed. Not with the way that the land is governed, taxes collected and the men and women provisioned and fed, but within the circles of the Witan everyone has realised just how vulnerable the King is, and how reliant he is on Eadric, who’s a conniving little bastard at the best of times.”

“What will you do?” Leofric asked, intrigued by his father’s reasoning.

“What all good ealdormen should do. Govern my lands for the King, collect his taxes and see to the roads and the bridges. But no, I won’t be going into battle against Cnut, and neither will I be warning him of what might be about to happen. For all that I respect him, I need to protect my own family first.”

“So we’ll be going home?” he asked, amazed that his father would leave London at such a time.

“Yes, when the King announces the attack, and the men of the fyrd are gathered, we’ll be leaving London and returning to Deerhurst. The King will not want me here, not until some other catastrophe occurs.”

“And you think it will?”

“Oh it’s bound to lad. Aethelred holds onto the throne by a hair’s breadth and by the good wishes of the other ealdormen and churchmen, and because he thinks he has Eadric’s resources at his fingertips. But when his older sons realise that they’re once more being excluded there will be rumblings of discontent, and this time they know that they can dislodge their father with the right support.”

Leofric was shocked by his father’s words and felt his mouth dropping open.

“You think they’ll be a power struggle?”

“I think there will be. Yes. Now, go and see how Athelstan is for me. He likes you, and your brother but make no mention of him. See if you can gleam his thoughts.”

Leofric felt a little worried by the task assigned to him, and also quite honoured. His father hadn’t yet trusted him with any delicate matter.

“Take the dog with you,” his father said, “Athelstan likes the hounds we breed.”

Calling to Beauty, the hound lurched to her feet and walked with far more confidence than

Leofric felt towards the tables that Athelstan and his brother and their men had occupied. They were a slightly rowdy lot, but nothing that drew attention to them.

Athelstan was bent over the table, a drinking cup before him, as well as a trencher containing the carcass of a pig. He wasn’t alone, his brother sat beside him talking quietly. When he saw Leofric approach he smiled in welcome and gestured that he should sit. His glance shot over Leofric’s head, and although he wanted to turn and see if it was his father that Athelstan had made eye contact with, he refrained. Athelstan and his father had once had a close relationship, and Leofric assumed his father was hoping to rekindle that.

“It pains me to hear of the rift with your brother,” Athelstan said, his voice quiet so that no one else could hear them for all that they sat opposite each other on wooden stalls.

“He’s always been a stubborn fool,” Leofric offered with what he hoped was the expression of a martyr.

“Too much time with Eadric will do that to a man,” Edmund joked wryly, and Leofric managed to laugh with the two brothers.

“Your father is once more beset on all sides,” Athelstan continued, but Leofric only nodded. It was an obvious statement.

“And you, how do you think you fit into the King’s new plans.” Athelstan’s eyes hardened at the question but he didn’t become angry, more resigned than anything.

“We don’t, as usual. Once, when we were boys we were the most important thing to him in the world, but now, well, he has new sons and younger son’s that he can control. We’re just an annoyance, nothing more.”

“So will you stand with him against Cnut.” At that Edmund sucked in a breath and Leofric feared he’d said something he shouldn’t.

Athelstan cautioned his brother with his eyes and spoke forcefully.

“It’s one thing to have our own father withhold any hope of succeeding him from us, but it’s quite another for a total stranger to lay claim to the throne. We’ll fight to protect it, whether it’s for my brother, my half-brothers, or myself. The English throne belongs to the family of Wessex.”

“So you’ll go to war against Cnut then?” he pressed.

“We’ll do as we’re instructed,” Athelstan said, his tone still dark. “For now,” he qualified and Leofric took the time to think how he’d feel if his father placed so little trust and support in him. He knew he wouldn’t like it, not one bit.

“Are you going to war?” Edmund queried a little defiantly.

“If we’re asked, but Lord Leofwine thinks we won’t be.”

“I’m inclined to agree.”

“And if we don’t we’re going home.”

At that Athelstan fixed him with his calm eyes, and Leofric watched emotion flash across his face.

“Leofric, your father is a man who reads the politics of this Witan better than anyone. Learn from him. Absorb all you can from him. I wish I’d been lucky enough to have him as a role model.”

As the two brother’s exchanged a knowing look, Northman wracked his memory trying to work out, once more, what his father was saying but not saying all at the same time. The word ‘failure’ swept through his mind, and he relaxed then. It would be good if his father distanced himself from whatever failure in battle Eadric was brewing up.

Northman Part 2 is written … so what now?

I’ve officially reached the end of all the research I’ve done for my dissertation, which means that the next Earls of Mercia book is going to take A LOT more research. But, I’m not dissuaded by it, oh no, and I am going to take the time to celebrate. And neither should there be any fear that the full story won’t be written. I know what happens and I plan on sharing it with everyone. But here’s a bit of Northman Part 2 for you to enjoy (along with me)!

Northman Part 2

Chapter 1

The room was uncomfortably warm, but still the King shivered in his oversized bed that so recently had belonged to another King, Aethelred. Leofwine, Uhtred, Ulfcytel, Aelfric, the new ealdormen Godric and a brooding Eadric had been summoned before King Swein, first of that name, by his son Cnut. Cnut’s face was hooded, his expression difficult to interpret in the light of what was about to happen. He was a youth and yet he covered his own thoughts well.

Archbishop Wulfstan was at the King’s side, talking softly to him and when speech became too much for the mortally ill man, Wulfstan uttered prayers instead, Swein’s eyes closing either in pain or in joy at the words he heard. It was difficult to tell.

Uhtred and Ulfcytel were clearly alarmed by what they saw. They’d had no inkling that the King had been wounded in battle as he successfully usurped the crown of England. But then, Leofwine had only been aware because he’d seen the tell tale signs at the coronation feast a few weeks ago. He’d hoped the King would recover but he hadn’t and now the events of the last six months were going to culminate in the waste of a good man’s life for a crown he’d never really needed. Not when he already had one.

Eadric’s feelings were difficult to interpret. Swein had made no pretence of his distaste for the man and had not allowed him to leave his sight in

London. Yet Eadric seemed as disturbed as Uhtred and Ulfcytel. Clearly he’d been too caught up in his own concerns to pay any close attention to the King. He’d spent his time reconciling himself to the reality of what had happened. Aethelred, his little puppet King, was gone and he no longer had control over the King of England.

Swein had brought his own commanders with him when he’d set out to take the English throne and they stood within the room as well. Erik, Olaf, Ragnor, Harold, Sigurd and Halfdan. Leofwine had spoken with the six men often in the last few weeks, although Swein had made it clear that they were the commanders of his ship-army, not men he planned on rewarding with land in England. No, those men would come soon from Denmark as soon as word reached Harald of his father’s triumph, or rather, they would have done. Leofwine hoped news would reach them soon of their King’s death so that any unfortunate altercations could be avoided.

It made for a strange scene. The men of Denmark, grim faced and subconsciously standing close to Cnut. Leofwine was unsure if they meant to protect him, or if they were protecting themselves.

And then there were the English men. All had now bowed their knee to Swein. All apart from Eadric had become his commended men and yet other than the name of their King little had changed for them. Leofwine was unsure what tomorrow would bring.

Wulfstan’s eyes met Leofwine’s one good one and he beckoned him forwards. Bending to speak to

the man who knelt before the King, Wulfstan spoke,

“The King wishes to speak to you but I’m not sure if he’s capable. You’ll stay in case he regains his senses?”

Nodding to show he would Leofwine stood silently behind Wulfstan, mouthing the prayers along with the priest. He’d not often stood a death vigil and sought comfort in the familiarities of the prayers his own Abbot intoned in their family church.

There was silence apart from the rasping of the King’s breath through his tired lungs.

A bead of sweat formed on the tip of Leofwine’s nose and he angrily brushed it aside. Time passed slowly, the noise of the royal hall continuing beyond the thin wooden walls as normal, the yelps of trodden on dogs and the crackle of the larger cooking fire coming through the thin screens, but no one in that small space dared move, not even Eadric.

Leofwine glanced at the man and noted a faint smile gracing his face and that he stood more proudly than he had done since Christmas Day. Eadric was clearly already plotting, but who would he chose as his next King? Would he recall Aethelred back from his temporary exile, or would he look to Swein’s son, Cnut? To Thorkell or even to the atheling Athelstan?

Leofwine pondered the same. He’d made his promise to Aethelred that should Swein die he’d work for his reinstatement. But now he quaked a

little at that promise. Whilst it might be the right

thing to do, the honourable way to act, he couldn’t deny that the prospect of peace under a strong King was far more appealing. With Cnut set above them as their King, young as he was, it had to be hoped that he and his brother back in Denmark would work to deflect any more raiders. Cnut as their King could be their salvation, provided the brothers stayed firm allies.

But then, he’d made a promise to Aethelred, sworn an oath as his commended man and he should follow through with that promise. After all, he’d given his word and his honour depended upon it.

There was also Athelstan or even Edmund, both strong warriors, good at commanding their men and far more in tune with the needs of the people and the country than their father had ever been. Neither of them had fled England, preferring instead to hold their own lands and see what Swein had planned for them. It now appeared that they’d face no retribution for being the sons of the old King, none at all, unless Cnut took the throne. Then they could still lose all.

Uhtred shuffled in the quiet, his eyes glancing at Leofwine. He too was thinking of the future. Uhtred had quickly succumbed to Swein’s devastating attack. Quickly he’d bent his knee to save his people from the terrible violence that Swein

had promised. Would Aethelred even want him to remain as his ealdorman if he came back? Would it not be safer to turn to Cnut? Cnut had hinted that,

like his father, he’d keep the English men, even with

their ties to the old King through their marriages and children. He’d not made the same promise for the King’s own sons.

Ulfcytel had not been as quick to accept Swein. He’d held out longer in the face of the attack, even when Swein had established his own counter-kingdom at Gainsborough, almost in Ulfcytel’s lands. He might have turned his allegiance in the end, but he’d not been as happy to do so as Uhtred and that could cause him problems with Cnut. Yet he had swung his allegiance away from Aethelred, and if Aethelred came back he would more than likely punish the man.

And then there was the gloating Eadric. He’d been miserable for weeks, a quiet menace at the back of every meeting, too stupid or too clever to not present himself for the King’s meetings of the Witan even though he was not the Ealdorman for Mercia anymore.

No, Cnut had allied himself firmly with another strong Mercian family, and had made a good marriage there. That it seemed to have been done for love was not lost on Leofwine. Just like his own oldest son, Cnut was headstrong and guided by his feelings. Not the best quality to find in a King but also not the worst.

If Cnut were King then Eadric would never regain his position as Ealdorman of Mercia. Of them all, Eadric would want Aethelred back as King. He’d think no further than that. If Aethelred was

King he would once more be the King’s son by marriage, his power would be returned to him and

he’d be a powerful influence on the King. Eadric’s allegiance to Aethelred was a certainty.

Swein’s eyes fluttered open then, glazed with pain but bright with intelligence. He wasn’t allowing himself an easy death. He looked blearily around and met Leofwine’s eye with a rye smirk on his pain-lined face.

Leofwine stepped closer, and knelt at his King’s side, Wulfstan shuffling un-elegantly out of their way.

“Leofwine,” Swein rasped through his dry lips, spittle on his bearded chin.

“My King,” Leofwine replied, as Swein smiled more widely, his teeth flashing yellow.

“My friend,” Swein continued, his voice a little stronger, his hand moving to grasp Leofwine’s. “My apologies for the ills I ever did you and for my misjudged efforts to kill you.”

Leofwine shrugged the apology aside, it wasn’t the first time he’d heard it and now wasn’t the time to dwell on it.

“And now as friends, I beg you, do what you can for my son. Make him King in my stead for if you do not, he’ll let the men run riot, and the devastation will be vast and sweeping. He doesn’t have my power of restraint.” Swein smirked at the irony of his words for what Englishman could think him capable of restraint after his conquest?

“Swein, you ask much for a youth who has no experience of ruling men and land,” Leofwine said. He’d been expecting something like this from the

King but his blunt words still caught him off guard and he said what he was thinking as opposed to the politic thing.

Swein’s eyes hardened at the words,

“I know the importance of what I ask, and I demand it from you. Make my son King.” The grip on Leofwine’s hand was increasing and Leofwine was shocked that so much strength yet remained in the dying man.

“Swein, you ask much,” he attempted to side step the issue.

“I know what I ask, my friend, and I would have your word that you will do it, and if not tomorrow, then in the next year or two. I can’t think what will immediately happen on my death, but as you say, Cnut may not be everyone’s first choice, but promise me, in fact swear to me, that you will work to restore my family line to this throne. Only then will England ever be free from attack from the men of the north. She is a shining jewel in a generous sea and too many of my countrymen point their ship’s bows towards her.”

Leofwine dipped his head at the words. Swein was no fool. He knew the likely outcomes should Cnut sit upon the throne, and Leofwine could clearly see the logic. It made sense, if only he hadn’t already committed to Aethelred.

“Swein, my friend,” he replied, raising his head and watching the eyes of Swein lighten at the warmer tone he used, “I swear that I will do as much as I can to make Cnut King of England.”

Swein smiled at the words, grasping his hand once more in thanks, and then his eyes closed in pain and they never opened again.

Northman Chapter 2 – Northman now released and available as an ebook and paperback

Chapter 2 – Early 1007 – Northman
They’d only just made it home in time. As they’d settled the horses and people within the suddenly, a little too crowded, house near Deerhurst, the faint whispers of snow had begun to fall and by the time the short day was over, the land was coated in snow that reached high up the legs of the hounds.
And it didn’t stop there either. A full week of snow followed, sometimes soft and gentle, sometimes tumultuous in its ferocity and always settling to the ground, the layers increasing daily. Those who were forced to venture outside grumbled at the severe cold and the wet, whilst those indoors grumbled at the opening of the door that presaged a sharp blast of shrill wind. Tempers did not flare because the mood within the house was sombre anyway. The realisation of what had happened to Leofwine slowly being accepted by all.
Amongst the sea of sullen faces, Northman found himself seeking the comfort of Wulfstan’s steady presence. Remarkably, of them all, he appeared the one most able to shrug the dishonour accorded to Leofwine aside. He was angry and shared his Lord’s outrage, and yet, he did not raise his voice or, when the mead flowed too freely, stand and shout curses at the King or at Eadric.
And Northman was not alone in his preference for the older man’s company. His own father was often sat with him, polishing his sword or sanding his own shield. He too calmed when Wulfstan was near and in those few days of fire and cold, heat and chill, Northman gained an insight into the power that Wulfstan held over men.
His words were never hurried, his tone rarely angry and yet, all listened when he spoke. Initially, Horic had roared and screeched with his rage, earning himself some sideways glances from Aethelflaed and his own wife that he’d ignored at his peril. Only when he’d been struck down by a monumental headache brought on by the vast quantities he’d drunk had he subsided to calmness. He too had gravitated towards Wulfstan, where Oscetel and the men of the war band had been slowly gathering.
None plotted treason or revenge. Their stoicism in the face of such treatment after they’d faced Swein of Denmark for their King and beaten him into retreat amazed Northman.
One night, as the fire in the centre of the hall had crackled and roared with the huge amount of wood heaped upon it, Wulfstan had leant towards Northman.
“What do you think lad?”
“About what?” Northman had uttered, stunned to realise these was the first words he’d spoken all day.
“Of your father’s men? Do you understand their acceptance of what’s happened, or like your brother, are you angry that the men do not shout for justice?”
Northman took a moment to consider his reply. Wulfstan was right in what he said. Leofric was angry and unmanageable. His high-pitched voice could often be heard angrily berating his younger brother and sister, and more than once, their father had been forced to intervene, carrying a sobbing Leofric to his private quarters so that they could talk about his behaviour. Northman understood the rage that cursed through his brother’s blood but couldn’t bring himself to mirror that rage.
“I think they wouldn’t be so high in my father’s esteem if they didn’t think as he did.”
Wulfstan chuckled at the reply.
“As I said boy, you’re growing wise with your years. Remember that.”
Northman nodded to show he understood the lesson.
“Do you think the King will act further against my father?” the words were forced past the lump in his throat that formed whenever he considered that possibility. They felt more harshly rung than any sentence he’d ever yet had to speak.
“No lad, I don’t. The King has no cause to drive your father further from his counsels. He needs men who are compliant and do as their told. And we all know that they’re in short supply around this King. But no, the King will let matters settle now. Eadric has what he wants, and mayhap, he too will let the dust settle before he asks for anything further from the King.”
Again, Northman nodded to show he understood.
Before him, Finn was leading the huge array of children in a fair imitation of a learning rhyme, and for the first time in years, Northman was almost tempted to add his own voice to the song of his early years. Leofric was sat with his sister, his face, for once, free from the scowl that had graced it for the last week. Near the fire, his mother sat quietly nursing the baby, a smile of contentment on her own face, free from lines of worry for the time being, and his father was embroiled in a lively debate with Horic about the virtues, or not, of the axe as both a fighting weapon and a weapon of the farm.
It all felt very normal, and Northman relaxed, his small shoulders un-tensing, his eyes half closing as he leant against Wulfstan. Normal felt good.
The songs of the children swirled around his head, like the stray smoke from the fire, and he slept where he sat, not even stirring when he felt the strong arms of his father carrying him to his bed, warmed by his already sleeping hound.

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/432566

Northman Chapter 1 – ebook releasing 1st August 2014

Chapter 1 – Midwinter 1006 – Northman
He pulled his cloak tighter to his shaking body, in an effort to ward off the chill air and streaming rain that was hitting him directly in the face and pooling down his frozen cheekbones. His eyes were steely and fixed in place, the only thought in his mind that he must reach his father as soon as possible.
His mother had come to him and told him that they were to leave the house in Lichfield with all haste, and that he’d need to assist her in getting his brothers and sister ready for the journey. He hadn’t questioned her words, completely out of character for him, but then, he’d never heard such seriousness in his mother’s voice. It was the first time in his ten years that he’d heard fear in her shaky voice.
He wondered if he’d have leapt to his duties quite as promptly if he’d not overheard the Archbishop’s message delivered by one of his household troops. He shrugged the thought aside. It was irrelevant. He had heard the message and he knew of his father’s, if not disgrace, then dressing down. Rage burned within him, bright and true. His father was a good man. The best. Even he knew that. He was respected and feared in equal measure. He was fair and honest, always taking the time to discuss issues with both sides of the party. Men vied to have his support at the shire courts, and quaked in fear when he refused to give it.
To know what the King had done to his father filled his heart with hatred. He knew he shouldn’t think so, but whilst the thoughts were his own, they could bubble happily through his mind, in time to the pounding of his horse’s hooves on the hard frozen ground they traversed.
Besides him Leofric sat miserable atop his own horse. He was a little more forthcoming with his anger, his slender shoulders rigid where they held the reins of his horse and every so often, he muttered something foul that he’d learnt from a member of his father’s household troop. Northman wanted to chastise him but as he agreed with his every word, he was letting him alone. Time would come soon enough when they’d be forced to guard against everything they thought, let alone said. This time alone, in the sheeting rain was theirs and theirs alone.
For now, all he wanted was to see his father, and the same determination had coloured his mother’s every move that day. Brisk and to the point, she’d ruthlessly rushed through their home packing, scrupulously only what was theirs to take, her face white and set with suppressed anger.
And then there’d been old Wulfstan. His hair all but white, he’d trembled at the news, as he had when Eadric had made his unexpected visit earlier in the year demanding that he foster Northman. That time his father had miraculously appeared and headed the situation off. This time, he’d not, despite Wulfstan’s longing glances at the doorway that Northman had watched with sadness. Northman had felt pity for the man, as close to his grandfather as he’d ever had, and he’d gone to him, and helped him pack his own possessions, mindful to keep him out of the way of his mother’s bustling and efficient servants. His slow movements would have occasioned much muttering and frustration, for all that they’d not have meant it. There was no one in their household who did not respect the aging man. No one.
With the help of Leofric, they’d taken the old man outside, almost speechless with shock, and they’d saddled his just as old but sturdier horse, and wrapping him in two thick wolf pelts and cloaks, had assisted him into the saddle. Only then had Northman run back inside what had once been his home, and gathered his own small collections of possessions and stuffed them into a handy sack that he wore strapped across his back. An old and much loved wooden sword, a board and wooden pieces and most importantly, a tiny shield Wulfstan had gifted to him when he could barely walk.
He now purposefully rode besides Wulfstan, and whilst the old man didn’t speak, his more sociable horse was clearly pleased to have the company. Between the mutterings of Leofric, and the silence from Wulfstan, Northman sat hunched and miserable, but braver than he’d ever felt before. His mother had, by her acceptance of his actions, made him responsible for his brother and his father’s closest confidant on the way back to Deerhurst. It filled him with pride.
Irritably he wiped the bitter tears that fled down his face. His responsibility came as a bitter tonic when it was thrust upon him at such a time of crisis. Besides him, Wulfstan glanced at him and coughed drily,
“Come lad, no need for that. Your father will be hale no matter what the King does to him. He’s a wise man, more than aware of the King’s sometimes contrary nature.”
Northman glanced at the steadiness in the man’s voice in shock. The state of him earlier, he’d not expected such stoicism.
“But, none of it makes sense.”
“Nothing about Court politics will make sense to a ten year old.” Wulfstan chuckled, not unkindly. He wiped angrily at the rain that drizzled into his face. “The King has his favourites and he has his men who he can rely on to do what needs to be done. Sadly, on occasion, he confuses the two. He’ll come to his senses soon enough, or he won’t and your father will recover his position anyway. In the eyes of all who know him, he loses nothing. If anything, the King loses more because he shows how little regard he has for those who are his genuine loyal followers. The respect most men and women hold your father in should be obvious to you. The hasty actions of the King will not devalue him in anyone’s eyes. And certainly should not in yours.”
Northman looked away to consider the words, and realised with a start that Wulfstan too was according him more respect than before. He was speaking to him as if he was a man grown.
“Thank you for your words,” Northman uttered, incredulity colouring his voice, “I’ll think on them further.”
“I know you will, lad, and that’s why I’ve spoken them to you. And you have my deepest thanks for your assistance earlier. You’ll be as wise and just as your father with a few more years under your belt.”
Northman felt his cheek flush with embarrassment at the compliment from the man who he’d always held in high regard.
“And just remember who taught you everything you know,” Leofric interjected into the conversation, his voice boyishly high with delight at undermining Wulfstan’s words of endorsement. Northman cast him a barely veiled look of annoyance, but was greeted with a huge cheeky grin on Leofric’s face, and he heard Wulfstan chuckle. Huffing quietly to himself, he turned back to his thoughts. Younger brothers were well and good, most of the time.
At his horse’s feet, his hound ran swiftly besides him and he peered into the slowly descending gloom. Mid-winter; not a time to be on the road. He was looking frantically for the abbey where they’d find shelter for the night but he feared they wouldn’t reach it before full dark fell. With a quiet word to Leofric to stay besides Wulfstan, he rode to his mother’s side.
Her face was white and pinched; blue tinged with cold and a shot of fear pierced Northman’s heart. She’d not long since had his baby brother, and this rushed journey was the last thing she needed in the black of winter. A smile touched her face as she saw her oldest son.
“Mother, are we far from the abbey? Only it’s growing dark. Should we light brands?”
She peered into the gloom as she considered his question.
“It shouldn’t be far now, but perhaps you should check with Lyfing. He’ll know better where we are.”
With a tight smile for his mother and a poke of his tongue at his younger sister who sat beside her and had been doing the same to him throughout their conversation, he turned his horse and cantered back towards the front of their tightly formed line. Sisters, or at least his only sister, never seemed to see the severity in any situation. She even seemed to be enjoying this furtive canter through the winter landscape.
The majority of his father’s men had travelled with him first to the Witan in Shropshire, and then to do battle with Swein, but enough remained that they were adequately protected as they cantered through the cold day. In total ten men rode with the small party of children and servants and the veritable herd of hounds who, only by the intervention of God, managed to avoid the horse’s hooves.
Lyfing was taking his duties seriously and when Northman called to the man, he pulled his horse up short and waited for his Lord’s youngest son to catch him.
“What is it Northman?” he queried, “Does your mother have some new command for me?”
“No, just my question Lyfing. Should we light brands or are we nearly at the abbey.”
Lyfing, as Northman had done moments before, peered into the gloom and then gave a cry of delight.
“Over there my young Lord. I can see lights, as I was expecting. Now come, I need a warm fire and some food in my belly.”
Lyfing, calling attention to the faintly glowing lights of welcome, and the occasional waft of smoky air, directed their party to the abbey.
Northman felt himself relax a little at the news. Not home yet, but more home than not home. He’d see his father, soon, and then he could assess the value of Wulfstan’s words for himself.
They found a warm welcome within the abbey where concerned monks assisted his mother and sister and old Wulfstan, settling them around the huge roaring fire and feeding them a warming soup. There had been exclamations of surprise when they’d first arrived but in no time at all, everyone had been settled, the horses stabled out of the rain, and a strange calmness had settled around the great hall. Northman, counting himself amongst the men, had slept within the hall, wrapped in his cloak, exhaustion and outrage warring with each other only briefly before he’d fallen asleep.
When he woke in the morning it was to a day dark and gloomy, the sun still some time away from fully rising. He’d glanced around in confusion, before recognising the men who milled around the hall. His father’s men. Jumping to his feet, he’d wound his way to Oscetel, talking quietly to an alert looking Lyfing.
“Your father’s not here Northman, but I’ve come with another ten men to escort you all home.”
Nodding to show he understood, he turned away to rouse his mother and sister. He liked Oscetel; he was always to the point and didn’t hold with the view that it was acceptable to keep young boy’s waiting for answers. But, he wasn’t his father and he couldn’t help wishing that he’d come too. Turning back abruptly he thought to ask,
“Is father well?”
A grimace fleetingly crossed Oscetel’s face.
“He’s well. A little sick of heart when I left him, but he’s not injured. We had a fine time with Swein. Now hurry, and then you can see for yourself.”
Relieved his father wasn’t missing due to an injury, he quickly set about rousing his mother, and then went to find Wulfstan. The old man slept deeply, and for a moment he worried that his stillness alluded to something a little more sinister, but with a few shakes and nudges, Wulfstan woke. Confusion creased his face as he looked from his young Lord to his surroundings, but it cleared quickly enough.
“Oscetel is here with more men to escort us home.”
“Good, I’ll let my guard down a little today then,” Wulfstan, quipped, and Northman smiled at the attempted humour.
“Perhaps I will too,” he retorted, hunting around for Wulfstan’s boots and cloaks.
Wulfstan laughed drily at him and once dressed, rubbed his hair affectionately as he walked from the small cubicle he’d slept within.
“You’re a good lad, don’t forget that.”
A hasty breakfast of hardened bread and cheese saw them mounted and on their way. The day was clearer than the day before, but the dampness chilled even inside huge cloaks, and it was a miserable day of perseverance. Even having Oscetel and the other men recounting tales of their newest encounter with Swein and his men couldn’t lift Northman’s spirits, and he almost cried when the familiar sight of his birth home came into view, smoke puffing in welcome through the thatch.
This was his home, his birthright, so different to the house in Lichfield. Here, he could be himself, let his guard down a little, play with his brothers and sister without fear of who might see or comment on what he was doing.
Sitting straighter on his horse, he wiped his listing hair from his eyes, setting his face in a bright smile whilst besides him Leofric kicked his horse to a tired gallop, desperate to see their father. His attempts at acting the young Lord abandoned, he too kicked his horse onwards, the beast as eager as him to be near home. He just wanted to see his father. Nothing else mattered.
The wind rushing around his clammy face, his eyes focused on the door of his house, he shouted with joy when his father ambled through the front door, his hand shielding his eye so that he could see who approached his house.
All attempts at maturity beyond his years evaporated as he flung himself into his father’s waiting arms, and he sobbed with relief. His father. He was here, as immovable as stone, as unchanging as Heaven.

Anglo-Saxon Royal Charters from 1006-1013

There are only 8 charters for this period in history as witnessed by the King’s ealdormen. And they only appear in 1007, 1009, 1012 and 1013. It’s said that the missing years are due to interruptions caused by invasions of ‘Viking raiders’. This certainly applies to 1010-11, and 1006 when the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle recounts tales of Viking incursions.
As is so often the case, this lack is frustrating because something monumental seems to happen at the King’s court between 1009-1012. For a start the number of ealdormen begins to increase and second of all, the, until then, rigidly enforced precedence of the ealdormen crumbles away, and one ealdorman, Eadric of Mercia, seems to come out on top and Aelfric of Hampshire (who I imagine as a little doddery by now – but I may be doing him a disservice) seems to fall down the rankings, as does Leofwine of Mercia.
By this stage it’s assumed that both Eadric and Uhtred of Northumbria (the other ealdorman who rises in precedence during this period) are related to Aethelred as they’ve both married one of his daughters.
But there seems an inherent contradiction in this because whilst the King may be seen to be rewarding his ealdormen with marriage into his family, his own sons, from his first marriage, don’t seem to be getting any additional authority. This is slightly speculation on my part, but it seems clear to me that Aethelred preferred his sons-in-law to his own sons. Obviously he now had two sons by his new wife, Emma of Normandy, and although they were only very young, he may have been trying to ensure their inheritance of the throne over and above their older half-brothers.
I appreciate that this is all speculation from only a handful of charters, but it provides a fascinating insight into the character of Aethelred if he really was so unprepared to give his sons any formal authority. Surely in his times of troubles, when the Vikings attacked relentlessly, and he was growing steadily older, it would have been an acceptable use of his older sons to use them as battle commanders? Certainly, later in the 1010’s the sons seem to come into their own, and must have had command and fighting experience somewhere. The King proved to be very resistant to leading his own men into battle (apart from the Battle of Chester in 1000) so I wonder why he wouldn’t chose his elder sons who he hoped would never inherit?
But that’s just my ponderings, and something I’m going to explore in my work of historical fiction, Northman Part 1 (The Earls of Mercia Book 3) and goodness me, it’s only going to get more confusing as I work my way past 1013!