Where’s Uhtred of Bebbanburg in The Brunanburh Series?
Uhtred of Bebbanburg is perhaps our most famous character from Saxon England, even if he is a fictional creation. Not only does he have his own TV series alongside the books, but his very strong association with Bebbanburg/Bamburgh (somewhere I’m lucky to live very close to hence the photo in January below, and have been visiting since I was a small child), means that he feels very ‘real’ to many readers and audiences, and indeed, encourages thousands of people to Northumberland every year to visit Bamburgh, of which even the earliest standing buildings date to just after the Norman Conquest of 1066. (Bamburgh has a very active group investigating the archaeology (The Bamburgh Research Project with whom I attended a post-excavation week in September 2023)). He has become somewhat like the Arthur of the Arthurian Legends – more real than many historical attested individuals.
Bamburgh Castle on a chilly January day in 2024
So, where is Uhtred of Bebbanburg in my Brunanburh Series?
This is a tough one because I can’t find ‘Uhtred of Bebbanburg’ in any of the sources I’ve consulted (not that there are many). Indeed, affairs at Bamburgh at this time are so little understood, that we don’t even definitely know the names of some of the individuals who may have ‘ruled’ there, and even what the extent of their powers might have been for Bamburgh was sandwiched between the might of a growing kingdom of the Scots, and the kingdom of Norse Jorvik or English York (depending on who claimed it).
Ealdorman Uhtred
There is an ealdorman of King Athelstan who’s named Uhtred (there’s actually two, but I’m focusing on the main one here, named as a ‘dux’ or ealdorman), appearing in the surviving charter evidence from 931 to 935 (he witnesses or attests 8 of King Athelstan’s surviving charters) including the charter when Athelstan gifts a great deal of land to Archbishop Wulfstan of York in 934 on his way to ‘invade’ the kingdom of the Scots, but aside from that, he doesn’t appear in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle at this time, and indeed, doesn’t seem to be associated with Bamburgh at all.
Who was ruling Bamburgh then?
Indeed, at this time, we have two men who seem to have ‘ruled’ in Bamburgh, one Eadwulf/Ealdwulf is attested, in the Annals of Ulster naming him as ‘king of the Saxons of the north.’ He died in c.913. His son, Ealdred/Eadred (there is confusion with the correct name) joined an alliance with Edward the Elder, king of the Anglo-Saxons, in 920 (corrected from 924).
‘And then the king of Scots and all the nation of Scots chose him as father and lord; and [so also did] Reginald and Eadwulf’s son and all those who live in Northumbria, both English and Danish and Norwegians and others; and also the king of the Strathclyde Britons and all the Strathclyde Britons.’ (Swanton, M. trans and edit The Anglo-Saxon Chronicles, (Orion Publishing Group, 2000 p.104 (A text 924 for 920)
As well as the one with King Athelstan in 927,
‘King Athelstan succeeded to the the kingdom of Northumrbia; and he governed all the kings who were in this island; first Hywel, king of the West Welsh, and Constantine, king of Scots, and Owain, king of Gwent, and Ealdred, Ealdwulf’s offspring, from Bamburgh. And they confirmed peace with pledges and with oaths in a place which is named Rivers’ Meeting on 12th July;…’ (Swanton, M. trans and edit The Anglo-Saxon Chronicles, (Orion Publishing Group, 2000 p.107 (D text for 926 )
Ealdred seems to hold his position until 934 when his death may be recorded in the Annals of Clonmacnoise. His death could have precipitated Athelstan’s decision to invade the kingdom of the Scots if perhaps Constantin of the Scots was ‘meddling’ with the Saxon enclave, perhaps hoping to claim it himself, which ultimately led to the battle of Brunanburh in 937 between Constantin, Athelstan and Olaf Gothfrithson.
What happened in Bamburgh after the death of Ealdred is very hazy. I’ve made some leaps of faith, largely influenced by academic scholars of the period, in Kings of Conflict, and my imagination, but alas, it did not allow me to find our missing ‘Uhtred’ of Bebbanburg, and while in initial drafts, I did ‘allow’ Ealdorman Uhtred some interest in Bamburgh, I removed these because it just didn’t fit with the information I could find.
Kings of Conflict, the last part of the Brunanburh series, is available now.
In 2014, I had the ‘amazing’ idea to write a novel about the events that led to the famous battle of Brunanburh in 937 – the greatest battle on British soil that few people have ever heard about (Or certainly hadn’t heard about back then – who knew Uhtred of Bebbanburg would be taking part in it).
My reasons were two-fold. I’d just read Sarah Foot’s monograph on Athelstan, and the UK was in the grip of a vote for Scottish Independence. It made me consider the union of the kingdoms of Wales, Scotland, England and Northern Ireland and the history behind it. But, it also stemmed from my own frustration with the way we’re taught history in the UK. ‘United’ it might say but if you go to school in England, Scotland, Wales or Northern Ireland you will be taught the ‘history’ of those kingdoms (and only those kingdoms)- that was when I was a kid, and I think it’s still true – very little ‘joined up’ thinking, and this is something that continues to cause problems today, and not just in the UK, but everywhere. Country-specific agendas fall down when looking at periods before these kingdoms actually existed – and the desire to see the ‘march’ towards unity as simple also misses the naunces.
In the first book in what became the Brunanburh Series, I wanted to examine these kingdoms – to unpick the seeming ‘inevitability’ of it all – and it massively helped that despite what might come before, and after, and as little as it may seem – we do know a surprising amount about the kings who fought at Brunanburh. What we don’t know (although the Wirral is now almost ‘accepted’ as the correct location) is where Brunanburh took place, and what actually led to it. It was time for me to get writing.
1100th Anniversary of Athelstan becoming king of Mercia
2024 marks the 1100th anniversary of King Athelstan becoming king of Mercia (although his coronation as king of the English took place in 925 – so a year later (read my post about this period here). While he has been often overlooked between the alleged ‘greatness’ of King Alfred (871-899), and the alleged ‘failure’ of King Æthelred II (978-1033/1013-1016), Alfred’s great great grandson, more and more historical investigation is being undertaken on Athelstan, and indeed, his half-brother, Edmund, who is one of the other characters in the series. (It might also have helped that Athelstan features in Bernard Cornwell’s The Last Kingdom series). A spotlight is being shone on all Athelstan accomplished, and the move is also encompassing Edmund, (as well as Eadred, and Eadwig – these three often overlooked).
Non-fiction books to read
And this investigation is also looking at events in what would be Scotland, Ireland and Wales, as well as the Norse kings of Jorvik. The approach I’ve taken, is one that historians are examining – Alex Woolf’s From Pictland to Alba and Claire Downham’s Viking Kings of Britain and Ireland (they did it before me – but their books have helped me massively), as well as Max Adams’ Ælfred’s Britain which focused on much more than just Alfred.
My conclusions from writing about this period?
What then can I say after four books considering this period? Quite simply, nothing is as easy to explain or account for as might be hoped. The sources that have survived come with so many explanations about translation (they are not written in English – and indeed we have Old English, Latin, Old Irish, Old Welsh etc) bias, survival, manipulation, and corroboration (one source is often used to corroborate another) that sometimes it feels easier to hold my hands up and say ‘who knows?’
Attempts to draw together a cohesive narrative are constantly thwarted. One historian may argue for one thing, another for another. Every person who studies the period will have their own levels of ‘acceptable’ when looking at the sources. I am always wary of Saints Lives – they were not intended, and can not be, accepted as historical ‘fact’ but they do tell us a lot about reputation – another interesting facet to consider. The Icelandic Sagas must also come with a host of caveats. I also have to rely on translations and therefore remove myself from the original intention of the scribe once more.
The joy of this period is in the nuances that can be exploited – it is also where most people are likely to argue. And indeed, readers may fail to comprehend these nuances – hence the ‘it’s too predicatable’ complaint- I imagine all of ‘my’ kings would have welcomed the preditability of knowing the eventual outcome.
Trying to explain concepts such as ‘this is the first king of the English,’ ‘Hywel’s a king of all the Welsh’ falter because my audience expect these places to be united and under one king – but alas, were rarely that. The other England-specific failure to teach history before ‘1066’ also adds to these problems. The Saxon period is deemed as ‘weird,’ (the names, oh the names). There is so much going on, that even I have fallen down and made mistakes, and only with a sort of ‘doh’ moment made the connection between the name Brunanburh and the element of most interest ‘burh.’ (Thank you Bernard Cornwell for that moment of understanding – I still feel very, very stupid about it – not his fault).
Team Norse, Team England, Team Wales or Team Scots?
To tell a story such as this involves standing on the shoulders of giants. I am indebted to them – and sometimes, a bit narked that they won’t give me any definites either – what I will say is this – I understand a lot more now. I hope others do as well. And whether you’re Team England, Team Norse, Team land of the Scots, or Team what would be Wales, I hope you enjoyed meeting these long-dead men and women and realising that they were just as shifty, ambitious and perhaps, blood-thirsty, as people are today. I really can’t ask for more than that, other than you read the non-fiction for the period as well, and hopefully, enjoy it.
When I first wrote Kings of Conflict, I had very little idea what Jorvik at the time (the 930s/940s) might have looked like. I wrote an entire battle scene and then realised some of my assumptions were very, very wrong (I do this all the time. Don’t feel sorry for me. I should just do the research first instead of giving free rein to my imagination.) I got the fact the settlement was split in two by the River Ouse wrong (and who knew about the Foss). But, most tellingly, what I failed to understand was the true nature of York, from its Roman origins as Eboracum to the age of Jorvik, and most importantly by that I mean its Roman walls and what might, or might not have still been standing at this period.
We don’t (yet) have time machines. We can’t visit York in the 940s, but if there is one thing York is famous for it’s the archaeology, and the Jorvik Viking Centre, which offers a recreation of what those streets on Coppergate might once have looked like, and also much else. And because Jorvik/York has benefitted from so much archaeological work, there are also a series of maps showing York at various times in its lifetime, alas out of print at this time, but which can be accessed via a good library (my thanks to the Great Northern Library at the Hancock museum in Newcastle – if you want to see it then let them know so they can have it ready for you, and make note of their opening hours) or the amalgamation of this work available in An Historical Map of York, available from all good book sellers. And if not, then my favourite ‘go-to’ for recreating this time period, the antiquarian maps by John Speed (which are also much prettier) can also offer some information.
York, from John Speed’s West Riding of Yorkshire map (own photo)
This is readily available and amalgamates the information from the actual Atlas.This is currently out of print – check out your local library or antiquarian library for a copy
Roman York
The British Historic Towns Atlas Volume V, York ed. Peter Addyman provides the following information about Eboracum-Roman York.
York’s surviving walls, not far from MicklegateI planned to take many more photos but my phone went flat and it was a suitably biblically wet day in York – which seems to happen every time I visit:)
It might have been occupied under Vettius Bolanus (69-71) but was truly founded under Emperor Vespasian (69-79). However, the ridge of the River Ouse was a routeway from the Neolithic onwards. This was in the territory of the Brigantes although the East Riding of Yorkshire was that of the Parisi. It is possible that Eboracum means ‘the place of the yew trees.’
The stone used in constructing the fortress was Magnesian Limestone from Tadcaster and Millstone Grit from Bramham Park (I love that they know this). To begin with the fortress had a ditch, rampart and timber structures and four gates, with the original towers up to 15 metres high. And here, there is the suggestion that to begin with, crossing the River Ouse (to get to the civilian settlement) was via ferry. The bridge can only be confirmed from the second century onwards. The Foss River was also tidal at this time and the banks sloped sharply. The rampart was widened from 20feet to about 42 feet during a second phase of occupation.
Some ‘old’ bits of Roman York (I think), from the museum in York Minster
The end of Roman York is impossible to pinpoint. Did it cease to exist? Certainly, the last documentary reference was in 314 when York’s bishop, Eborus, attended the Council of Arles, but as with so many of these Roman settlements in Britannia, what happened afterwards is more difficult to determine and we must turn to archaeology and not written records.
I think this is from the exhibition at Micklegate Bar but I could be wrong. It very clearly shows the two ‘halves’ of the walls.
I must admit, all of this information about Roman York makes me somewhat desperate to write a book about it:) (Don’t all groan).
Anglian York – Eoforwic
The creators of this series of maps make the point that this is the most speculative of the series. Put simply, they really don’t know what was happening.
What can be said is that the walls were renovated on the north west side of the fortress with a dry stone wall and cobbled sentry walk while the eastern ramparts were topped with a timble palisade wider than the Roman wall (if I’ve understood that correctly).
Eoforwic first enters the historical record as the place of baptism for Edwin in 627, the king of Northumbria (Deira and Bernicia combined).
‘…the king was baptised at Easter with all his chief men; that Easter was on 12 April. This was done in York, where earlier he had ordered a church to be built of wood.’ ASC E 626 p.25
The archbishopric began from 735, but Eoforwic was not densely settled at this period, although it does seem to have had many, many churches. This includes the Minster, St Michael-Le-Belfrey, Holy Trinity, St Peter the Little, St Martin, St Michael, and many more, all probably founded by 850.
Map of Britain in the tenth century, showing York (map design by Flintlock Covers).
Viking York – Jorvik
It’s record that the first attack Viking attack on York occured on 1st November 866. The Northumbrians counter-attacked in 867 but this left York under Viking control.
‘Here the raiding-army went from East Anglia over the mouth of the Humber to York city in Northumbria;’ ASC A 867 corrected to 866 p.68 (from my preferred edition edited by Michael Swanton).
And here is where my notes become a little muddled between time periods. The British Historic Towns Atlas Volume V informs that the River Ouse at the time would have been tidal, and much wider than it is now and also with much steeper banks .
The late-eighth-century scholar Alcuin describes York as having high walls and lofty towers (he spent time in York). Asser (Alfred’s late-tenth-century biographer – although I’m curious as to how he’d know as I’m sure he was from one of the Welsh kingdoms and York was not under Alfred’s control) suggests that York’s walls were insecure and there is a suggestion that the Vikings restored the walls. Considering what we know about Asser and his ability to be less than honest, we might suspect this statement. Certainly, the remains of the walls were visible but whether they were defensible is unknown.
The walls survive to this day. To paraphrase from the Atlas, from the western corner of the Roman fortress to fifty metres along its south-west front, parallel to the river, the Roman wall is still visible above ground. Beyond this point, its six projecting interval towers and the Roman south/west gateway leading to the bridge over the Ouse have either been demolished to foundation level or been covered by organic-rich debris of post-Conquest date. The fortress’s south corner tower at Freasgate survives to fifteen foot. It is suggested that the south-west section of the civilian settlement might not have been included in the walled defences.
On the northern banks of the River Ouse, there were plots about 5.5m wide occupied by one or more structures (Coppergate/Ousegate/Pavement) with backyards running downslope towards the River Foss. Hungate also had similar plots. There might have been crossings over the rivers below St Mary Castlegate and Hungate. These rectangular structures of post and wattle had entrances front and back, with centrally arranged hearths and roofs made of turf, reeds or straw. Most settlement was below Coppergate, Ousegate, Pavement, Hungate and Walmgate areas.
Recreating Jorvik?
But what does all this mean when trying to recreate the time period? (Some will know that I’ve already ‘visited’ York earlier in the Brunanburh series, and without all this angst). It is frustrating that some aspects are so clearly defined and others aren’t. Where were the people living – especially the high status people? Where were the kings living? In King’s Square/Kuningesgard? And what’s this about the civilian defences never being completed to the south?
My overwhelming impression is that the remains of the actual Roman encampment (to the north of the Ouse) were in better condition than those to the south of the Ouse surrounding the civilian settlement (there are ‘proper’ terms for this – I’m not using them). But, these remains of the Roman wall at the fort seem to have largely been surrounding the religious centre under the control of the Archbishop of York, Wulfstan I. Were they any use to those in control of Jorvik? And what about the rivers? How navigable were they? Could they be easily blocked? How tidal is tidal? Did it raise and lower the water level by metres or centimetres?
Was there even a bridge over the River Ouse or did they need to use a boat to get across? Perhaps there was only one bridge over the Ouse, and only one over the River Foss.
Having this information to hand and making sense of it are two very different things. How would someone have gone about attacking York? Would they have taken ships, come on foot or tried to steal their way inside through the never completed walls? Who would have protected it? What would our erstwhile holy man, Archbishop Wulfstan have done? If the walls were standing, how many warriors would have needed to protect it?
You’ll have to read Conflict of Kings to see just what I did, and you can from 6th August 2024:)
On this day in history was fought the second of three famous battles between Penda of Mercia and the Northumbrians kings. This battle was different in two ways to Hædfeld and Winwæd; it took place in the summer, and it occured in Mercia. (Hædfeld was an October battle near the River Don. Winwæd was a November battle fought somewhere in the north of modern-day England, it’s believed).
Warrior helms during the early Saxon era (seventh century)
Thanks to some spectacular archaeological finds, we can visualise how a Saxon warrior king might have looked. The reconstructions of the Sutton Hoo helm, and that found with the Staffordshire Horde (as well as a few others), present us with elaborate helmets crested with dyed-horse (or boar) hair in a way very reminiscent of the Roman era. They glitter, and they seem to be festooned in gold and silver work, but whether these were actually worn in battle or not is debatable.
Firstly, they would have made the kings or noblemen very noticeable to their enemy. Secondly, they were so valuable it’s impossible to consider the loss of one of them should they fall and their goods be taken by their enemy. Bad enough for their king and leader to die in battle, but to also lose such precious wealth as well seems unlikely. That said, of course, the Sutton Hoo helm was buried, and the fragments of the Staffordshire Hoard helmet were buried and lost. But the scarcity of such archaeological finds surely points to them being unusual or there would be hundreds of them.
But there is another reason why these helmets might have existed, and that’s because they were for ceremonial purposes. Kings, before the reign of Athelstan (925-937) are not known to have undergone consecration with a crown but rather with a helmet. After all, they were warrior kings. Perhaps then, these survivals are more akin to that worn by a warrior-king when appearing before his people or for ceremonial reasons.
What weapons would a ‘normal’ warrior have?
What then might have been the more usual garb for a warrior of the Saxon era, which at nearly six hundred years is bound to offer some variations? Shield, spear, seax, sword and byrnie.
We get a feel for these items and how valuable they were from wills that survive from the later Saxon era, hundreds of years after the events of Pagan Warrior. Ealdormen had horses, both saddled and unsaddled, shields, spears, swords, helmets, byrnies, seax, scabbards and spears.
The will of Æthelmær, an ealdorman in the later tenth century, records that he’s granting his king, ‘four swords and eight horses, four with trappings and four without, and four helmets and four coats of mail and eight spears and eight shields,’[1] as part of his heriot, a contentious term for something that some argue was an eleventh-century development, and others argue, is merely reflecting earlier practice on the death of a man.
There would also have been thegns and king thegns, who had their own weapons, as well as the men of the fyrd, the free-men who could be called upon to perform military service each year, as and when required. It’s often assumed they would have been less well-armed, although this begs the question of whether kings and their warrior nobility were prepared to sacrifice those they relied on to provide them with food to gain more wealth. They might have found themselves with the money to pay for food but without the opportunity to do so.
There are very few representations of warriors, but the surviving strands of the Gododdin, a sixth-century lament to the fallen of Catraeth gives an idea of how these warrior men thought of one another. There is much talk of killing many enemies, drinking mead, and being mourned by those they leave behind.
Battle tactics
Battle tactics from the period are impossible to determine fully. Before writing my books which are blood-filled and violent, I read a fascinating account, by a military historian, on how he thought the Battle of Hastings might have been won or lost. The overwhelming sense I came away with was that local features, hillocks, streams, field boundaries even perhaps the path of a sheep track might well be the very thing that won or lost a battle for these opposing sides. The land that kings chose to go to war on was incredibly important. Perhaps then, it wasn’t all about the weapons but about where they decided to fight.
Pagan King, the story of the battle of Maserfeld
For Pagan King, the novel that tells the story of the battle of Maserfeld, I made use of some local landmarks I knew well, and for other aspects, well, that’s why I write historical fiction.
You can find out more information on the Gods and Kings page.
Dan Armstrong hasn’t done much retiring since moving to Tuscany, and with his new career as a successful private investigator taking off, it seems murder seems to follow him. He’s hoping a much-needed trip to beautiful Portofino will give him the break he needs and quality time with girlfriend Anna.
A gathering of celebrities…
Portofino is a celebrity paradise, and holidaying on a nearby superyacht is a group of British media stars, all famous for being infamous. Dan isn’t impressed by their status or wealth, but when he overhears an argument between two of the group, he suspects something fishy could be going on…
A cold-blooded killer?
And then a body is washed up on shore and Dan’s hopes for a holiday go overboard. Could this simply be a tragic accident or is there a killer amidst the assembled celebrity cast? Dan and Oscar have their work cut out before the tide turns…
It’s another gripping case for Dan and Oscar – it’s murder in paradise!
My Review
It’s hard to believe that we’re on book 8 in the Armstrong and Oscar Cozy mysteries, but we are:)
Murder in Portofino perhaps takes a while longer than others to ‘get going.’ Instead, we’re treated to Dan, and Oscar enjoys some ‘downtime’ with Anna, who is close to Portofino. But, of course, our duo seems to attract mystery to them, and so we are soon embroiled in a luxury yacht and its inhabitants, with not one but two crimes to solve.
I thoroughly enjoyed this new addition to the series. I always appreciate the fact that the mysteries are consistently more complex than anticipated, and like Dan, we have to follow the lines of investigation to determine the truth.
A fine new addition to the series. Always a reliable and engaging read. I’m already looking forwards to book 9:)
The death of King Ælfweard of Wessex, 2nd August 924
Today sees the 1100th anniversary of the death of King Ælfweard of Wessex, a king most people have never heard of as his reign was just sixteen days in summer 924, and we know almost nothing about him. (According to one source, the Textus Roffensis he is credited with a reign of 4 weeks, which would have made him king before his father’s death. You can see a digital copy of this source here). There are surely many ‘might have beens’ about his reign, and as much as I admire Athelstan, his older halfbrother, I felt it only right to shed what light there is on Ælfweard.
Who was Ælfweard?
He was the son of Edward the Elder (who had died 16 days earlier) and his second wife, Ælfflæd. He was, presumably, the oldest born son with Edward’s second wife, and from a very young age, he can be seen attesting to his father’s charters. We don’t know his exact date of birth because we don’t know when Edward remarried, and whether it was before or after his father’s death in 899.
What do we know about Ælfweard?
Ælfweard begins to attest charters in 901 as filius regis, alongside his famous older halfbrother, Athelstan, although Ælfweard is given precedence and named before him. This precedence for the oldest son from a second marriage would also be mirrored in later years by King Edgar, who presented his oldest son with his third wife, Elfrida, as the legitimate ætheling while acknowledging his oldest son with his first wife.
Ælfweard attests eight of his father’s charters (S365, S375, S376, S377, S378, S381, S382 and S383). The number is small and may not be representative. There’s a lack of surviving charter evidence from the reign of Edward the Elder and none from Ælfweard’s short reign. Indeed, his full brother, Edwin, doesn’t attest any of his father’s charters, although he is named in one of Athelstan’s charters (S1417). This is something that needs explaining and examining in more depth.
Ælfweard’s death ‘allowed’ Athelstan to become king of Wessex
Despite the survival of his full brother, Edwin, Athelstan was, eventually, proclaimed king of Wessex as well as Mercia on the death of Ælfweard, although his coronation was delayed until September 925 (Read about Athelstan here). We must consider what led to Ælfweard’s death at Oxford. Had he been with his father at Farndon in Mercia putting down a revolt or fighting the Norse enemy? Was there some sort of illness? Was he murdered by those loyal to Athelstan to allow him to become king of Wessex as well as Mercia? We do not know. The situation is presented as a fait accompli in the sources.
Edwin, Ælfweard’s younger full brother, would die far from England’s shores, if the information we do have about his death, is correct. It is possible he did rise in rebellion against Athelstan, but alas, we do not know any details.
For more suggestions, and my fictional recreation of how Athelstan became king of Mercia, Wessex and the English, do check out my books, Kingmaker (the story of Lady Eadgifu, Edward the Elder’s third wife), and King of Kings (which begins with the coronation of King Athelstan in September 925). I’ve also written a post about Athelstan becoming king of Mercia which can be accessed here.
And for more information about the tenth century as a whole, do check out my nonfiction title about the Royal Women of the Tenth Century, which also includes information about the royal men.
Anglo-Saxon Chronicle quotations from M Swanton, The Anglo-Saxon Chronicles.
How do you recover from the havoc wrought by history’s cruellest plague?
It’s June 1349. In Meonbridge, a Hampshire manor, many have lost their lives to the Black Death, among them Alice atte Wode’s beloved husband and Eleanor Titherige’s widowed father. Even the family of the manor’s lord and his wife, Margaret de Bohun, has not entirely escaped.
But, now the plague has passed, the people of Meonbridge must work together to rebuild their lives. However, tensions mount between the de Bohuns and their tenants, as the workers realise their new scarceness means they can demand higher wages and dictate their own lives.
When the tensions deepen into violence and disorder, and the men – lord and villagers alike – seem unable to find any resolution, the women – Alice, Eleanor and Margaret – must step forward to find a way out of the conflict that is tearing Meonbridge apart.
Carolyn Hughes has lived much of her life in Hampshire. With a first degree in Classics and English, she started working life as a computer programmer, then a very new profession. But it was technical authoring that later proved her vocation, word-smithing for many different clients, including banks, an international hotel group and medical instruments manufacturers.
Although she wrote creatively on and off for most of her adult life, it was not until her children flew the nest that writing historical fiction took centre stage. But why historical fiction? Serendipity!
Seeking inspiration for what to write for her Creative Writing Masters, she discovered the handwritten draft, begun in her twenties, of a novel, set in 14th century rural England… Intrigued by the period and setting, she realised that, by writing a novel set in the period, she could learn more about the medieval past and interpret it, which seemed like a thrilling thing to do. A few days later, the first Meonbridge Chronicle, Fortune’s Wheel, was under way.
Six published books later (with more to come), Carolyn does now think of herself as an Historical Novelist. And she wouldn’t have it any other way…
Trying to keep tabs of the chronology of my series set in Saxon England is difficult, even for me. It doesn’t help that I often work backwards, and sometimes have a tendency to skip backwards and forwards, and sometimes don’t finish things either. This might help.
Character crossovers – Ealdorman Leofwine from The Earls of Mercia series as a very young man. Lady Eadgifu from both The Tenth Century books, and The Brunanburh series in book 1.
Character crossover – Cnut, Ealdorman Leofwine, Leofric and others from The Earls of Mercia series – this book is a side-story to the main series but can be read as a standalone.
And don’t forget my non-fiction title, which is a perfect counterpart for The Tenth Century, and The Brunanburh Series, The Royal Women Who Made England
I’m delighted to welcome Debra Borhert and her new book, Her Own War, Book 3 in the Château de Verzat Series, to the blog with the historical aspect of the novel.
Historical Aspect of the Novel: Enslavement in Eighteenth-Century France by Debora Borchert
“I survived enslavement. I know where they look.” — Aurélia, Her Own War
In the first book in my Château de Verzat series, the brother-sister protagonists flee France aboard a slaver. As I further researched the slave trade, I knew I would not be able to adequately convey the horrors of their voyage. Consequently, that story lives only in my mind.
Yet, the male protagonist, Henri, falls in love with a formerly enslaved woman, Aurélia, who was forced onto the same ship. In America, they cannot marry, and people treat Aurélia as an enslaved woman. Eager for her freedom, Henri brings Aurélia to France, after the new government abolished enslavement. The August 1793 decree for the abolition of slavery ended all slave-trade activity across all French territories in 1794.
In the second book, Her Own Revolution, Henri, Aurélia, and their son, Charles, depart America and arrive in France in late 1796, where Henri believes Aurélia and their son will be safe.
Although slavery was illegal in France, people, like Thomas Jefferson, brought their “property” to France, and France respected his and others’ rights to own enslaved people.
The irony of these laws caused me to wonder about the formerly enslaved, and whether people of color had rights in France in 1796. They did not. In my work as a historical fiction writer, I attempt to focus light on historic injustices.
For research, I traveled to Nantes, which was the largest slave-trading port in France from 1707-1793. The city has created a Memorial to the Abolition of Slavery, dedicated to the thirteen million Africans who were deported during the transatlantic slave trade.
The Memorial’s underground gallery was created to enable visitors to imagine what it might feel like to exist in the hold of an 18th century ship. Sounds of flapping sails, splashing waves, creaking ropes and wood, clanking chains and shackles, human groans and cries, echo in the shadows.
At that moment I knew my character Aurélia would be mute, caused by the trauma she had endured. I also knew she would not be safe in France, for, although Henri did not know it, I knew she had no rights.
The third book, Her Own War, opens with a hailstorm that threatens the vineyard, and is followed by a declaration that all noble émigrés must leave France or face the guillotine. Henri, a noble émigré, must leave, and, as Aurélia is pregnant, she is unable to travel with him. He must leave her under the protection of the four hundred families who live on the estate. However, no one, not even Henri, could have protected her from history.
During the eighteenth century the recapture of freed, formerly enslaved people was terrifyingly common, and many were enslaved in the sex trade. France had a robust demimonde, a polite name for the business of prostitution, catering to tastes for the exotic. These facts threatened Aurélia’s safety. But, as Aurélia had survived enslavement, she proved to be a courageous character who risks her life to save the lives of her children.
As Napoleon Bonaparte gathers power at the end of Her Own War, I know the plot of the next book of in the series will be affected by his re-establishment of slavery in1802, which revived slave-trade activity for another fifteen years.
Having learned that even today human beings are enslaved, I chose to bring light to the historical facts of the 18th century, sadly reflected in the crimes against humanity in this century.
Artwork that inspired the character Aurélia.
Bust of an African Woman by Charles-Henri-Joseph Cordier. Courtesy The Walters Art Museum, Creative Commons License. Artwork that inspired 18th century Nantes, France.
Le Port de Nantes, by Nicolas Ozanne, Courtesy Wiki Creative Commons
Blurb
As Napoleon Rises from the Ashes of The French Revolution, One Woman Dares to Spy Against Him
Sentenced to eight months in an insane asylum for the crime of impersonating a man, Geneviève LaGarde fears giving birth in a filthy cell will mean certain death for her and her unborn child. Desperate for her release, her husband, Louis, trades his freedom for hers and must join Bonaparte’s army in Egypt.
As Geneviève wages her own war against the tyrannical general, she not only risks her own life but also those of her children and the four hundred families who depend on the Château de Verzat estate. Knowing her desperate actions could cause the government to confiscate the entire vineyard, she sacrifices everything to save her husband and protect the people who become her family.
A captivating tale of the power of love, hope, and courage, and the strength of community.
Book 1Book 2Book 3
Reviews
“Fans of historical fiction will find this novel a most captivating read.” —Kirkus Reviews
“For fans of Stephanie Dray’s The Women of Chateau Lafayette.” —Publishers Weekly BookLife Editor’s Pick “A compelling story of love, war, and fierce family loyalty. While the narrative stays true to the social mores of the French Revolutionary era, Borchert gives her readers powerful and active female characters who often cunningly use conventional gender expectations to conceal their real motives and actions. Fans of historical fiction will find this novel a most captivating read.” —Kirkus Reviews
This title will be on #KindleUnlimited for the first 90 days
Meet the Author
Debra Borchert has had many careers: clothing designer, actress, TV show host, spokesperson for high-tech companies, marketing and public relations professional, and technical writer for Fortune 100 companies. Her work has appeared in The New York Times, San Francisco Chronicle, The Christian Science Monitor, and The Writer, among others. Her short stories have been published in anthologies and independently.
A graduate of the Fashion Institute of Technology, she weaves her knowledge of textiles and clothing design throughout her historical French fiction. She has been honored with a Historical Novel Society Editors’ Choice, Publishers Weekly BookLifeEditor’s Pick, and many other five-star reviews.
The death of King Edward (the Elder), 17th July 924
17th July saw the anniversary of the death of Edward the Elder, who was Athelstan’s father.
We don’t know why Edward was in Mercia at the time of his death, although this is only recorded in the C and D versions of the Anglo Saxon Chronicles, always deemed to be more Mercian in their outlook by scholars of the era than other surviving versions. I highly recommend Pauline Stafford’s book on the writing of the ASC, and you can read more about the ASC recensions here.
We don’t know why Edward died, although it was potentially quite sudden. Was he wounded in battle? Was he unwell – the fact his oldest son with his second wife dies only 16 days later (the 16 days is provided by the D version of the ASC) at Oxford might suggest a contagion. Admittedly, it might also suggest that Ælfweard was murdered by those loyal to Athelstan, to enable him to also claim Wessex but there is no mention of this in any surviving source material. Alternatively, it might point to a deadly war with ‘someone.’
Who was Edward the Elder (899-924)
So, who was Edward the Elder? He was the younger brother of Æthelflæd, famously known as the Lady of Mercia, as well as the son of King Alfred. He seems to have ‘stolen’ the kingdom of Mercia from his niece Ælfwynn, who was intended to rule there after her mother’s death in June 918. Perhaps Edward was an unwelcome presence in Mercia. It’s been suggested he might have been putting down either a Mercian rebellion, perhaps orchestrated by Athelstan, or that Edward was fighting the enemies of the Saxons – no doubt the Viking raiders – at the time of his death.
King of the Mercians
We are then told by the D version of the ASC that Athelstan was chosen as king by the Mercians.
So, a few important things to highlight – he was chosen as king, but only by the Mercians even though his father was ruling Wessex and Mercia.
Despite very popular portrayals of England at this time, we are still very much looking at the kingdoms of Mercia, Wessex and Northumbria, (and of course Jorvik), so not ‘England’ at all. Edward the Elder did try to rule both Mercia and Wessex at the same time after his sister’s death. How successful he was at that is very much open to debate. Certainly, he has been very much relegated behind the achievements of his father and his son (and his sister). It’s not always that easy to study his reign in depth due to the lack of surviving charter evidence. There is also a debate about how ‘much’ ruling Æthelflæd and Æthelred did in Mercia? Was their kingship under a Wessex banner?
But to return to Athelstan. Was he immediately declared king of Mercia on 18th July 924 or did it take longer? We don’t know the answer to this.
A beguiling suggestion by historian Jayakumar is that Athelstan might have been marked to succeed by his grandfather King Alfred in Mercia, not in Wessex. This is intriguing – prior to this we see fathers and sons ‘sharing’ the kingship of Wessex and then Kent, when it was taken back from the Mercians in the 820s/830s. And indeed, while Mercian, Kent was often ruled by an offshoot member of the Mercian ruling family as well.
Who was Athelstan?
So, who was this Athelstan, who became king of Mercia in 924?
The oldest son of Edward the Elder, but who was his mother?
It’s been suggested his mother might have been Mercian, and this also made him acceptable for the Mercians to declare him as king- but it’s impossible to determine more about her. We don’t even know her name, although it’s suggested that it was Ecgwynn. She was soon replaced, either because of her death or because Edward, on becoming king of Wessex, needed to cement his position through marriage with a powerful ealdormanic family. Lady Ælfflæd was Edward’s second wife.
Later discussions abound about Athelstan’s suitability to become king of Wessex, with many casting doubt on the union, but it is evident that Alfred believed the union was a lawful one, and his grandson would one day become king, although of where, we don’t know.
Equally, we don’t actually know when Edward’s second marriage occurred, was it before or after his father’s death?
Athelstan’s early life
Athelstan and his younger half-brother, Ælfweard, who we must assume was the oldest son born to Edward and his second wife, begin to attest charters in 901 both as filius regis although Ælfweard is named above Athelstan despite being younger.
Athelstan attests eleven of his father’s charters (Sawyer, P.H. (ed.), Anglo-Saxon charters: An annotated list and bibliography, rev. Kelly, S.E., Rushforth, R., (2022). http://www.esawyer.org.uk/ S365, S366, S371, S375, S376, S377, S378, S379, S381, S382, S383), Ælfweard only eight, but again, the number is still small and so may not be representative – in 901, Athelstan witnesses 2 charters, but Ælfweard only one.
Only three of the eleven charters that Athelstan witnesses under his father are deemed to be authentic, and only one of those witnessed by Ælfweard and Athelstan together which is dated to 901, when they were both young children. This would have been very early in Edward’s reign, when his cousin, Æthelwold, was still alive and contesting the rulership of Wessex, something that wasn’t resolved until the decisive Battle of the Holme, in either 901 or 902. Edward may have wanted to labour the point that he was the father to two potential male heirs, or æthelings. (His brother, Æthelweard is also termed filius regis, and so Edward might have been highlighting that if something did befall him, he had a brother who could also succeed him, as opposed to two young children.)
However, there is a large gap in the charter evidence for Edward the Elder in the middle of his reign, and so it is difficult to track any developments.
But with all that said, I don’t find Athelstan’s charter witnessing very helpful when trying to determine his place at the Wessex royal court at this time, his position as a young man or even how he got on with his father’s second wife (as well as his third wife) and her many, many children, who would bedevil him when he became king.
Was Athelstan raised in Mercia by his aunt and uncle?
The fact Athelstan was declared king of Mercia does seem to corroborate a statement made by William of Malmesbury, in the later Gesta Regum Anglorum, or The History of the English Kings, that Athelstan was raised in Mercia by his aunt and uncle, alongside his full birth sister, who may have been called Edith.
Or, it could be that his mother was Mercian. It’s frustratingly difficult to find explanations when events are merely told us as supposed ‘fact,’ and William of Malmesbury’s assertion has been little questioned, other than by historian David Dumville, even though it dates to two centuries after the events. It seems to be the ‘easy’ explanation as to why Athelstan became king of Mercia after his father’s death.
What was happening in Wessex?
Ælfweard, his younger half-brother, was declared king, until his death, 16 days after his father.
How did Athelstan become king of Wessex?
So, once he was chosen as Mercia’s king, how did he then become king of Wessex on the death of Ælfweard so soon after that of Edward?
This period is as equally hazy as what happened to make Athelstan king of Mercia.
But, after Ælfweard’s death, there is another son of Edward’s second marriage who could have become king, Edwin. As could the sons of Edward’s third wife, Lady Eadgifu, who were very young at the time, perhaps no more than one and three years old.
Why Athelstan was chosen is difficult to rationalise, especially if the Wessex witan were so uneasy with him. Some suggest he reached an agreement with Lady Eadgifu (his father’s third wife) that her sons would be his heirs. Others think there was a period of unease where Wessex was kingless. We have no explanation for Edwin being overlooked, and certainly, it seems he went on to cause his older half-brother problems. We have reports of Edwin’s death in 933 – apparently from drowning, but it seems likely, it was some sort of rebellion against his half brother, the king. The Gesta Abbatum S. Bertini Sithiensium, reports his burial by his cousin in Flanders.
I find this period quite interesting as by now, another Eadgifu, a half sister of Athelstan, who had been married to King Charles III of the West Franks, might have been in Wessex. She had a young son, Louis, but Charles had been usurped and imprisoned and certainly Louis was at the Wessex court when his grandfather died. It’s possible Eadgifu was as well. Would she not have supported her full brother against Athelstan claiming the kingship? Equally, we don’t know if Edwin’s mother was still alive. It is all very perplexing.
What we do know is that Athelstan underwent his coronation in September 925, so over a year after his father’s and half-brother’s death. The coronation took place at Kingston upon Thames. This delay has been interpreted as showing he met resistance in Wessex to his rule, but it might not have been that unusual. His father’s coronation was not immediate, although, admittedly, his father was faced with the rebellion of Æthelwold, his cousin and the surviving son of Alfred’s older brother, Æthelred I. Alfred and his brother seem to have reached an accord about the succession before Æthelred I’s death, and Alfred then rode roughshod over it.
A coronation with a crown?
There is some discussion about whether the surviving Coronation ordo (ceremony) was devised for Athelstan or not, but he was crowned with a crown and not a helmet, as earlier kings had been. We have a famous image of Athelstan, (we only have two contemporary/near-contemporary images of the tenth century kings) presenting a book to St Cuthbert, and in this image, he is shown wearing a crown. This was a departure from earlier ceremonies.
Frontispiece of Bede’s Life of St Cuthbert, showing King Æthelstan (924–39) presenting a copy of the book to the saint himself. Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
For more suggestions, and my fictional recreation of how Athelstan became king of Mercia, Wessex and the English, do check out my books, Kingmaker (the story of Lady Eadgifu), and King of Kings (which begins with the coronation of King Athelstan).
Anglo-Saxon Chronicle quotations from M Swanton, The Anglo-Saxon Chronicles.
MJ Porter 