My portrayal of Constantin, the king of the Scots, is of course fictional in the Brunanburh series, but he is based on a historical individual, Constantin (e) II, so who exactly was he?
Constantin is a fascinating character. Again, and as with Athelstan, his exact date of birth is unknown, but it must have been, at the latest, by 877/8, when his short-reigned father died.
By 900, Constantin was the king of the Scots (we think – there is some confusion about this). This wasn’t yet quite Scotland, but it was getting there. The ancient kingdoms of Cait, Fortriu, Atholl and Dal Riata, were ruled by one king, Constantin. But, he hadn’t succeeded his father, Aed, but rather a man named Domnall II, his cousin. At this time there were two rival dynasties and they strictly alternated the kingship.
Affairs in the kingdom of the Scots often intermingled with those of the independent kingdom of Bamburgh, Strathclyde, and of course, the Norse, or Viking raiders, if you will. Indeed, the entry recording Constantin’s death in the Annals of Ulster, reads as though there was often strife.
‘Constantinus son of Ed held the kingdom for xl years in whose third year the Northmen plundered Dunkeld and all Albania. In the following year the Northmen were slain in Strath Erenn…And the battle of Tinemore happened in his xviii year between Constantin and Ragnall and the Scotti had the victory. And the battle of Dun Brunde in his xxxiiii year.’ (Alex Woolf, From Pictland to Scotland, 789-1070,p.126)
Constantin, ruling for decades, and I mean decades, seems to have brought much needed stability to the kingdom, as affairs there very much mirrored the emerging ‘England’ to the south.
‘Constantin’s reign has increasingly come to be see as one of the most significant in the history of Scotland. Not only was it very long, at least forty years, but it was also the period during which conflict and diplomatic relations between a kingdom recognisably ancestral to Scotland and one recognisably ancestral to England first occurred.’ (Alex Woolf, From Pictland to Scotland, 789-1070, p.128)
Constantin allied with the rulers of Bamburgh, and York, and also, on occasion, both Æthelflæd of Mercia and Edward the Elder, after her death. But, he seems to have been quite flexible in his thinking, and was prepared to pick and choice as he saw fit.
By the beginning of Clash of Kings, Constantin would have been in his mid-sixties. He was certainly a more than adequate counterpart to Athelstan, king of the English, no doubt helped by his sons and grandsons, as his reign continued, but his participation at the battle of Brunanburh, and its subsequent failure, might well have severely undermined him.
With a successor, Mael Column, desperate to succeed him, and his son, Ildulb, just as keen to succeed Mael, it seems that Constantin is about to enter one of the most turbulent periods of his kingship.
Read Clash of Kings to discover what happens in the kingdom of the Scots.
I’ve just read my 2022 Writing Year in Review post, (you can read it here) and can assure you, I didn’t manage to stick to my carefully thought out first half of the year. Indeed, the only aspect I seem to have stuck is taking it a bit easier in December. I’ve not left myself with a huge looming deadline, although I haven’t accomplished all I might like to have done. But then, I often have unrealistic expectations of myself.
So, what have I been writing/editing in 2023? It’s time to turn to my trusty diary to find out.
In January, I submitted The Royal Women Who Made England: The Tenth Century in Saxon England a few days late – I didn’t correctly calculate how long the editing process would take. I was also working on book 2 of the Brunanburh series – this was a massive rewrite, adding 50% more content to the original version, and I was reediting A Conspiracy of Kings, ready for its book birthday in February. On a side note – it also seems that I undertook some much needed TLC on my iMac, which I’ve written down as ‘taking all afternoon.’ I think it might have slightly annoyed me, but the beast has been working much better ever since. But yes, I didn’t understand what I was doing in replacing the SSD hard drive but I’m glad I did. I also took a trip to Gloucester and I know I spent the entire train journey there, and back, editing Kings of War! (The things you remember). I have decided that if I ever struggle with a deadline, I’m just going to hop on a long train journey. It’s the ultimate means of isolating yourself.
In February, I was writing Protector of Mercia – which wasn’t my working title, and so has confused me as I put this together, and also editing Eagle of Mercia, not once but twice (copyedit and proofread), while King of Kings was released on 10th February.
For March, I set myself four pretty huge tasks – I’ve written them down on 1st March. But how did I get on? I finished the proofread for Eagle of Mercia. I worked on the structural edit for Kings of War, AND I was reediting Warrior King ready to have it made into an audio book, narrated by the trusty and fabulous Matt Coles.
While working on Clash of Kings, I discovered, much to my annoyance that Limerick in Ireland was not at all where I ‘thought’ it was, and so had to do a large rewrite. My geography is woeful. I should have taken the time to check before I started writing the scene. I was also editing Protector of Mercia, which I sent to my editor on 31st March. I also went to work for a week in the school AND we moved house. Jeez. What a month. It seems that my fourth project didn’t even get a look in (I’m not surprised). Let’s see what happened in April.
April began with a scramble for my internet connection, having moved house. I was due to present for The History Quill on 4th April. Luckily, the internet worked after a few stupid mistakes on my part. I finally made it back to my missed project 4 in March, which was The King’s Brother, which I edited and continued to write. I also wrote a short story. And, I was working on some form of edits for Protector of Mercia and Kings of War. All the frantic activity of the last few months paved the way for my Summer holiday in Orkney – the temperature peaked on the last day in the middle of May at 13 degrees, and I came home with a burned bright red face. The light is just different in Orkney. It was a glorious two weeks away, very much in isolation on one of the more northerly islands. We fell foul of the ferry running aground, but we managed to book an alternative route home.
May 3rd saw the release of Eagle of Mercia, and I came back to two weeks of very long hours during the summer exam period at my local school. I spent my weekends working on structural edits for Protector of Mercia, and even managed to sneak in a trip to London for the Boldwood Books summer party. I spent the last week in May frantically editing The King’s Brother, which I should have done months before. I didn’t get much writing done in these two months, and I knew I wouldn’t, that’s why March had been such a mad month.
June was another busy month, but not in terms of writing. I participated in Æthelfest at Tamworth and by the end of the month I had (and I’ve not written this down) worked on some edits for Clash of Kings. It also saw the release of The King’s Brother. It had been very hard to return to the world of the Earls of Mercia, but with the help of Lady Godgifu, a character I developed substantially for the book, I felt it worked really well.
July 12th saw the release of Kings of War and I was once more embroiled in editing, both Protector of Mercia and my non-fiction title, as well as the structural edit from hell for Clash of Kings because of a problem when I’d converted it in Vellum, managing to muddle all the chapters. August saw me beginning work on Icel book 6, now Enemies of Mercia, and I really tried to concentrate on the title as I felt I’d done little ‘new’ writing for quite some time.
September saw the release of Protector of Mercia, and I held my first Zoom with readers to celebrate the release. It went really well. I was copyediting Clash of Kings, and also working on the first proof for The Royal Women of the Tenth Century, and producing the index for it. When that was done, I got back to Enemies of Mercia which was nearly finished, but not quite. The index stretched to 13 pages. It was a huge task. Next time I write a non-fiction title, I might miss out everyone’s names.
October saw Enemies of Mercia sent to my editor, and some more work which took me away from my desk. But, never fear readers, November was just around the corner, and that meant it was time for National Novel Writing Month, and a very, very welcome return to the world of Coelwulf from The Last King, but not before the final proofread for Clash of Kings.
In November I wrote, wrote, wrote. Not as much as in the past, but I was determined to get back to a good daily habit, and so I didn’t push myself until I had time to write 5k a day, which wasn’t until later in the month, as I had a structural edit for Enemies of Mercia to work on. And the second proof for The Royal Women also arrived in my inbox.
For December, remember above I said I had to be kinder to myself, I’ve given myself the time to finish writing The Last Viking, the new Coelwulf book, as well as writing a short story on my way home from London, and I’ve also got a final proof for The Royal Women Who Made England to look at. On the whole, a much quieter December to that of 2022, and far more enjoyable. It’s hoped this will recharge my batteries for what I hope will be a busy 2024, with another Coelwulf, Icel, Earls of Mercia and something new in the pipeline.
In terms of words written this year, a very rough tally sets it at about 340k, which is one of my lowest since 2017 – see my little chart below. (I can’t correctly determine all of the words written – I sometimes wish Word tracked how many words I deleted as well as how many I added). This might also be because some of my record keeping has been poor. My most prolific day was March 28th when I wrote 7000 words.
For 2024, I’m determined to work on my planning – not always easy with structural, copyedits and proofreads coming at me from all angles, but I am going to try and ensure I have more periods of time when I can write in a sustained way. I only managed this for three months in 2023. My style of writing means that I have to write quickly, or, quite frankly, I lose the thread of the story. I am, after all, a pantser, not a planner, and my characters very much lead the story. Sometimes, I need to give them a bit of time to decide what it is they intend to do.
Forthcoming releases with be Clash of Kings, The Royal Women Who Made England, The Last Viking and Enemies of Mercia. There will also be the fourth part of The Brunanburh Series later in the year. I had thought 2024 would be a quieter year, but clearly not.
If you want to follow my writing journey, join my newsletter. I update readers each month, and you can also join my Facebook group.
I will be sharing my reading year in review soon – there’s a lot of historical mystery in there:)
I’m sharing a post about the family of Ealdorman Leofwine, Saxon England and the position of ealdormen/earls #non-fiction #fiction #histfic
Who was Ealdorman Leofwine?
Ealdorman Leofwine , was the ealdorman of the Hwicce (c.994-1023), one of the ancient tribal regions in Mercia, which was a part of England, at the time the story begins. It is possible he may have been related to Ælfwine, who is named, and dies at the Battle of Maldon (more below).
Ealdorman Leofwine and his descendants, who would hold positions of power until the Norman Conquest of 1066, are a unique family in this tumultuous period. No other family, apart from the ruling family of Wessex (and even then there was a minor hiccup caused by those pesky Danish kings) held a position of such power and influence and for such a long period of time, as far as is currently known. The position of ealdorman was not hereditary. It was a position in the gift of the king, and Saxon kings ruled with a varying number of ealdormen. To understand Leofwine’s significance, it’s important to understand this. Unlike an earl – a term we are all perhaps far more familiar with – but specifically a medieval earl in this regard – that position was both more often than not hereditary AND meant that the person involved ‘owned’ significant properties in the area they were earls over. This is not how the ealdormanic system worked in Saxon England, as it’s currently understood.
It is difficult to track many of the ealdormanic families of this period, and the previous century, but there are a few notable individuals, all who bucked the usual trend, which no doubt accounts for why we know who they are.
Perhaps most well-known is Ealdorman Athelstan Half-King, who was the ealdorman of East Anglia from about 934 to 955/6 when he fell from favour at court during the reign of King Eadwig and retired to Glastonbury Abbey. Before he did so, he ensured that his son, Æthelwald, was elevated to the position of ealdorman in his place. This was most unusual, but then, he came from a powerful family, fiercely loyal to the ruling House of Wessex, if not actually a member of them. Athelstan Half-King is believed to have been the son of Ealdorman Æthelfrith, a Mercian ealdorman when Lady Æthelflæd was the Lady of Mercia. Athelstan was one of four brothers. His older brother seems to have either briefly retained the ealdordom after their father’s death in Mercia, or been accorded it a few years later, but when he died, Athelstan Half-King didn’t become ealdorman of Mercia in his place. No, he remained in East Anglia while his two brothers, Eahric and Æthelwald, held ealdordoms in Wessex (Eahric) and Kent (Æthelwald). They didn’t become the ealdorman of Mercia either. The ealdordom passed to a different individual.
When Ealdorman Æthelwald of the East Angles died a few short years later (Athelstan Half-King’s son), his place was taken by Ealdorman Æthelwine, the youngest of Athelstan Half-King’s children. But, the family failed to hold on to the position, despite Ealdorman Æthelwine being married three times, and fathering three sons, one of whom died at the battle of Assandun in 1016. The next to hold the ealdordom of the East Angles after the death of Æthelwine was Leofsige, who was the ealdorman until he fell foul of the king in 1002. In the early 1000s Ulfcytel emerges and may have been married to one of the king’s daughters, but is never officially accorded the title of ealdorman. You can read about Ealdorman Athelstan Half-King in The Brunanburh Series.
Another famous ealdorman was Byrhtnoth of Essex, who died at the Battle of Maldon in 991. But Byrhtnoth was not the son of the previous ealdorman, and indeed, he married the daughter of a very wealthy man and in turn was raised to an ealdordom in Essex at exactly the same time that Ealdorman Athelstan Half-King was being forced to retire from his position in East Anglia. (Byrhtnoth’s wife’s sister had briefly been married to King Edmund (939-946, before his murder). While there are some arguments that Byrhtnoth was from a well regarded family, his appointment was not because of an hereditary claim. It’s known that he was father to a daughter, but not to a son. As such his family did not retain the ealdordom on his death. Indeed, it seems as though Essex and the East Anglian earlordoms were united for a time under Leofsige.
The argument has been put forth that the position of ealdorman may have come with properties that were the king’s to gift to the individual to enable them to carry out their duties in a particular area. The Saxons had a number of types of land tenure, bookland, was land of which the ‘owners’ held the ‘book’ or ‘the title deed.’ (There are some wonderful charters where landed people had to ask for the king to reissue a charter as theirs was lost, often in a fire. There is a wonderful example where King Edgar has to reissue a charter for his grandmother, as he’d lost it while it was in his care). Other land tenure was ‘loan land,’ that is land that could be loaned out, often for a set number of ‘lives.’ Ealdormen might then have held bookland that was hereditary, and not in the area they were ealdorman of, and loan land that was in the king’s to gift to them within the area that they were the appointed ealdorman.
Many will be familiar with the family of Earl Godwine and his sons (thanks to the influence of the Danes, the term ealdorman was replaced by earl, which was the anglicised version of jarl). Much work has been done on the land that the Godwine family held when the great Domesday survey was undertaken during the reign of William the Conqueror. It will quickly become apparent that while they had areas where they held a great deal of land, these were not necessarily the areas over which first Godwin and then his sons Tostig, Harold, Gyrth, Leofwine and Sweyn held the position of earl. Most notably, Tostig was earl of Northumbria from 1055-1065, and yet the family had almost no landed possessions there.
And this is where we return to Ealdorman Leofwine and his family. While everyone knows about Earl Godwine and his sons, they didn’t hold their position for as long as Ealdorman Leofwine and his family. Earl Godwine is first named as an earl in charter S951 dated to 1018. By that period, Leofwine of the Twice had already held a position of importance since 994. The families of both men would converge as the events of 1066 drew nearer, and indeed, Godwine’s son, Harold, was married to Ealdorman Leofwine’s great-granddaughter when he was briefly king of England.
When Ealdorman Leofwine died, his son, Leofric, didn’t become ealdorman in his place. Leofric was a sheriff during the period between his father’s death and his own appointment. And indeed, Leofric’s son, Ælfgar was elevated to an earldom before his father’s death, and so was not initially the earl of Mercia. However, on this occasion, and because of a political situation that was rife with intrigue, Ælfgar did become the earl of Mercia after his father’s death, and after Ælfgar’s death, his young son also took the earldom of Mercia. The family survived the events of 1066, but they didn’t retain their hold on the earldom. The House of Leofwine were a family to not only rival that of Earl Godwine’s, as far as it’s known, but they were also the ONLY family to retain a position as an ealdorman/earl for over seventy years. And yet, very few know about them, and indeed, in many non-fiction books, they’re not even mentioned. And that was the perfect opportunity for me to write about the fabulous family, largely inspired by a non-fiction book, The Earls of Mercia: Lordship and Power in Late Anglo-Saxon England by Stephen Baxter.
It’s often forgotten, in the great swirl of events throughout the eleventh century, that England wasn’t conquered once, but instead three times, by King Swein in 1013, by his son in 1016, and then by William the Conqueror in 1066.
England only reclaimed its English king with the death of King Swein shortly after he claimed the kingship, when Æthelred II, the much-maligned, king of England was restored, it’s said, by his nobility, provided he did ‘a better job’ of it (I paraphrase). At this time, Cnut, Swein’s son, wasn’t deemed as suitable to replace his father, while Æthelred II had many sons who could succeed him. Æthelred was deemed ‘an old man’ by now (born probably in about 966-8), but he had surviving sons from his marriage to his first wife, named as Ælfgifu, and also from the better known Lady Emma. The oldest of these sons,Athelstan, died in 1014, having made a name for himself as an honourable man. His will survives. His next youngest brother had also perished a decade ago, meaning Edmund was the oldest surviving son. In the great swirl of events, people forget Edmund was proclaimed king on his father’s death in April 1016, and that he ruled for a good sixth months, before his own death in November.
The relationship between Edmund and his father is difficult to unpick. It doesn’t seem to have been congenial. Æthelred II is most often accused of having overmighty subjects (somewhat ironic when they invited him back to England after Swein’s death), and there was a particular thorny problem of Eadric Streona, married, it’s said, to one of Æthelred’s daughters, and a tricky character. Eadric is associated with Mercia. To counter his reach, Edmund, married into a Mercian family in 1015, the story being that he rescued the woman from captivity and then married her. As romantic as that might sound, this was sound political expediency. In the tenth century, King Athelstan was strongly associated with Mercia, being declared king of Mercia before becoming king of Wessex. Edgar, in the 950s, seems to have done something similar, being declared king of Mercia while his brother, Eadwig, was king of England, or perhaps only Wessex – there is much uncertainty about this. Eadwig would die young, allowing Edgar to build on his Mercian powerbase and claim England for himself.
As such, Edmund was following known precedent when he looked to Mercia for support when he must have feared that the eyes of the witan would favour his younger half-brother, Edward, for the kingship. No doubt, Edmund actually gained support because while England was at war with Cnut throughout 1016, he was a man grown and could fight for the English. Edward, much younger, would have been unable to do so.
And so to 1016. On the death of his father, Edmund was declared king, but Cnut also took the same title. Many battles later, Cnut and Edmund reached an accord, it’s said, after the English defeat at the unallocated battle of Assandun. England was ‘split,’ Edmund became king of Wessex, Cnut held the remainder and it could have possibly remained split if not for Edmund’s untimely death, perhaps from wounds taken in battle fighting against Cnut and his warriors, and in which, Eadric Streona had played his new king false, defecting to King Cnut’s side.
Edmund II, known as Ironside, left two children, perhaps twins, and these children were raised in exile, away from England and the reach of the Danish conquering force. They did still have a part to play in the future of England, and Edmund’s granddaughter became queen of Scotland in 1070, while his grandson was briefly declared king of England in the tumultuous events of 1066.
You can read the story of Cnut and Edmund in The Earls of Mercia series side story, Cnut: The Conqueror.
Here’s the blurb:
To gain what he wanted, what he felt he was owed, he would do anything, even if it meant breaking oaths to a woman he loved and the mother of his son.
Swein, King of Denmark, and briefly England, lies dead, his son ousted from England as King Æthelred returns from his exile in Normandy at the behest of his witan and the bishops. Æthelred might have relinquished his kingdom to Swein, the Danish conqueror, but with Swein dead, the men have no interest in supporting an untried youth whose name resounds with the murder of one of England’s greatest bishops. A youth known only for his savagery and joy of battle. A true Norseman who utilizes his weapons without thought.
But Cnut wants a kingdom and will do anything to gain one. As England’s ravaged by a civil war between the sons of two former kings, Edmund, son of King Æthelred, and Cnut, son of Swein, the men must make personal decisions in the heat of battle as they strive to reclaim their birthrights whilst doing all they can to stay alive.
Cnut is a side story in the Earls of Mercia series, retelling the story of the last century of Saxon England through the eyes of the powerful Earls of Mercia, the only noble family, apart from the House of Wessex, to hold their position for nearly a century.
Lady Estrid was born into a large and illustrious family with far-reaching influence over Denmark, Sweden, Norway and England.
I’ve put together some genealogical tables of the main families to make easier to work out how everyone connected. (You can click on the images to make them bigger).
The family of Lady Estrid Sweinsdottir, as mentioned in Lady Estrid.
Due to a lack of information, I have made little mention of the rest of Estrid’s half-sisters, of which she had three or four. I feel it perhaps also helped the story a little – it was complicated enough as it was without giving them the capacity to meddle in affairs in Denmark.
To break it down into more palatable chunks, Lady Estrid’s mother was married twice, once to King Swein of Denmark (second) and also to King Erik of the Svear (first). King Swein was also married twice (in my story at least – as it is debated), to Lady Gytha (who I take to be his first wife) and then to Lady Sigrid (who I take to be his second wife.) Swein was king of Denmark, Erik, king of the Svear (which would become Sweden), and so Sigrid was twice a queen, and she would have expected her children to rule as well, and her grandchildren after her. Sigrid was truly the matriarch of a vast dynasty.
She would have grandchildren who lived their lives in the kingdom of the Rus, in Norway, in England, and Denmark.
And Sigrid wasn’t the only ‘double queen.’ Lady Emma, twice queen of England, was first married to King Æthelred and then to King Cnut, Estrid’s brother.
Lady Emma, twice queen of England and her children
Not that it’s possible to speak of Lady Emma’s children from her two marriages, without considering the children of her first husband’s first marriage. King Æthelred had many children with his first wife, perhaps as many as nine (again, a matter for debate), the below only shows the children mentioned in Lady Estrid. Readers of The Earls of Mercia series, and the Lady Elfrida books, will have encountered the many daughters, as well as sons.
The family of King Æthelred of England
One of the other family’s that had the most impact on Lady Estrid, was that of her third husband, and father of her two sons, Jarl Ulfr.
The family of Ulfr
Ulfr had a brother and a sister, and while little is known about the brother, it is his sister who birthed an extremely illustrious family, through her marriage to Earl Godwine of Wessex. (The family tree doesn’t include all of her children.)
Four such powerful families, all intermarried, make for a heady mix.
For the modern reader, not only are the family dynamics complicated to understand, but so too is the geography. Sweden was not Sweden as it is today, and the reason I’ve insisted on calling it the Land of the Svear. But equally, Denmark was larger than it’s current geographical extent, covering Skåne, (in modern day Sweden) as well. The map below attempts to make it a little clearer. Norway is perhaps the most recognisable to a modern reader, but even there, there are important difference. King Swein claimed rulership over parts of Norway during his rule, and so too did King Cnut. But, Denmark isn’t the only aggressor, there were rulers in all three kingdoms who wished to increase the land they could control, King Cnut of Denmark, England, Skåne and part of Norway, is merely the most well-known (to an English-speaking historian.)
Lady Estrid is a standalone novel, but it does incorporate characters and events from The Earls of Mercia series. So, if you’ve not yet read The King’s Brother, it might contain some spoilers, and vice versa.
I have also written about Lady Estrid’s brother, Cnut, and her father, Swein. I classify the books as side stories to the main Earls of Mercia series, but they can all be read as standalones, or as a trilogy about the powerful family.
Interested in the unknown women of the tenth and the eleventh century? I’ve written about quite a few of them now. Check out The Tenth Century Series, featuring Lady Ælfwynn, Lady Eadgifu and the daughters of Edward the Elder, and the stories of Lady Elfrida as well as The Royal Women Who Made England.
The King’s Daughters is available with Kindle Unlimited, and is a novel of the many daughters of Edward the Elder who married into the ruling families in East and West Frankia, or who became holy women, or lived within a nunnery.
So, who were these daughters?
Edward the Elder was married three times, to an unknown woman- who was the mother of the future King Athelstan, to Lady Ælfflæd – who was the mother of the future, and short-lived King Ælfweard, and finally to Lady Eadgifu – who was the mother of the future kings Edmund and Eadred. But, while each woman was mother to a future kings, this story focuses on the daughters. And there were a lot of them, and their lives were either spent in making prestigious marriages, or as veiled women – whether professed religious, or merely lay women living in a nunnery or an isolated estate.
The story of The King’s Daughters is very much about the daughters of Edward and his second wife, and the marriages they made in Continental Europe, into the powerful families in East and West Frankia. And I’ve written a lengthy post about them which you can find here. But there were other daughters/sisters, and while their lives might be almost lost to us, it is interesting to discover what little is known of them.
Edith/Eadgyth/Ecgwynn/unnamed daughter of Edward the Elder, and his unnamed first wife (Ecgwynn?) c.890s–937?
m. Sihtric, king of York in 925, repudiated by 927 when Sihtric died
Edith[i] is believed to be the biological sister of the future King Athelstan, and, therefore, the daughter of King Edward and his first wife, possibly named Ecgwynn. Edith is unnamed in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, but her marriage is mentioned in both the D and the C texts.
The C text records that in 924, ‘Athelstan was chosen as king by the Mercians, and consecrated at Kingston, and he gave his sister.’[ii] And here the text, rather enigmatically, comes to a halt until 954.
The D text, is rather more helpful, under 925 stating that, ‘Here Athelstan and Sihtric, king of Northumbria, assembled at Tamworth on 30th January, and Athelstan gave him his sister.’[iii]
This, therefore, refers to the union between Athelstan’s sister and Sihtric, a Norse king of Jorvik or York. The union is intriguing. It does seem to be the only occasion that a marriage union was enacted between the Viking raiders and the Wessex royal family.
There is the suggestion that Edith may have become a nun on her return to Mercia. She is associated with the nunnery at Polesworth by traditions recorded at Bury in the twelfth century. Following the death of her husband, she is said to have returned to Mercia and ‘founded a nunnery at Polesworth, near the Mercian royal centre at Tamworth. There she remained a virgin, practising fastings and vigils, offering prayers and alms to the end of her life, and dying on July 15.’[iv]
However, Thacker goes on to state that, ‘it must be admitted that it [the cult] was not a very successful one. Her feast day (15 July) occurs in only three relatively late (i.e. post-Conquest) calendars, and it is impossible to identify her in any of the surviving Anglo-Saxon litanies.’[v]
[i] Edith may be Anonymous (594) or Eadgyth (12) on PASE, in which case her death was c.937
[ii] Swanton, M. ed. and trans. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicles, (Orion Publishing Group, 2000), p.105
[iv] Thacker, A. ‘Dynastic Monasteries and Family Cults’, in Edward the Elder, 899–924, ed. Higham & Hill (Routledge, 2001), p.257
[v] Thacker, A. ‘Dynastic Monasteries and Family Cults’, in Edward the Elder, 899–924, ed. Higham & Hill (Routledge, 2001), p.258
Æthelhild, daughter of Edward the Elder, and his second wife, Lady Ælfflæd
The birth order of Edward the Elder’s children is unknown. Therefore, we do not know why Æthelhild[i] became a lay sister at Wilton Abbey. Could it be because it was her choice, her father’s, or mother’s, or that of her half-brother, Athelstan?
Wilton Abbey was strongly associated with the Wessex royal family. Her sister Eadflæd became a nun, and the two sisters were joined, not only by their mother but also by their much younger half-sister, Eadburh. Nothing further is known of Æthelhild. She’s not mentioned in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, or in any of the surviving charter evidence. We don’t know her date of birth, or her date of death.
William of Malmesbury’s Gesta Regum Anglorum tells us more.
He also had by the same wife six daughters; Eadflæd, Eadgifu, Æthelhild, Eadhild, Eadgyth, Ælfgifu. The first and third took a vow of virginity and spurned the pleasures of earthly marriage, Eadflæd took the veil and Æthelhild in lay attire; both lie at Wilton, buried next to their mother. Eadburh became a nun and lies at Winchester; Eadgifu was a famous beauty, and was given in marriage by her brother Æthelstan to Louis prince of Aquitaine.[i]
[i] Mynors, R.A.B. ed. and trans. completed by Thomson, R.M. and Winterbottom, M. Gesta Regvm Anglorvm, The History of the English Kings, William of Malmesbury, (Clarendon Press, 1998) p.199–201
Eadflæd, daughter of Edward the Elder, and his second wife, Lady Ælfflæd
Eadflæd[iii] became a nun at Wilton Abbey. And she is named in a charter issued by Athelstan (S438, surviving in one manuscript) granting land to St Mary’s, Wilton dated 937, the year of the battle of Brunanburh. Provided the dating is secure, and the charter is authentic, this points to Eadflæd still being alive at this date. The absence of her sister’s name, Æthelhild, may mean she had predeceased her sister. Note should be made here of the distinction between the two types of religious women. It is believed that there were lay sisters and also those who wore the veil. Both could have been attached to a nunnery, although, aside from the Nunnaminster, no religious establishment is specifically termed as a monastery for women.
Eadburh, c.919–952 daughter of Edward the Elder and his third wife, Eadgifu
William of Malmesbury in his Gesta Pontificum Anglorum tells the story of Edward the Elder’s youngest daughter, Eadburh,[v] being consigned to the Nunnaminster in infancy as she showed such signs of devotion:[vi]
There had been a convent on this spot before, in which Eadburg [Eadburh], daughter of king Edward the Elder, had lived and died, but by then it was almost in ruins. When she was barely three, Eadburg had given a remarkable proof of her future holiness. Her father had wanted to find out whether his little girl would turn towards God or the world. He set out in the dining room the adornments of the different ways of life, on this side a chalice and the Gospels, on the other bangles and necklaces. The little girl was brought in by the nurse and sat on her father’s knees. He told her to choose which she wanted. With a fierce look she spat out the things of the world, and immediately crawling on hands and knees towards the Gospels and chalice adored them in girlish innocence … Her father honoured his offspring with more restrained kisses and said, ‘Go where heaven calls you, follow the bridegroom you have chosen and a blessing be upon your going.’ … Countless miracles during her life and after her death bear witness to the devotion of her heart and the integrity of her body.[vii]
William later adds that ‘Some of the bones of Eadburg the happy are buried’,[viii] at Pershore.
Aside from the later William of Malmesbury, Eadburh is the recipient to land in one charter, that of S446, dated to 939 and surviving in one manuscript. ‘King Athelstan to Eadburh, his sister; grant of 17 hides (mansae) at Droxford, Hants.’[ix] Perhaps, Athelstan was ensuring his sister’s future with this charter. Maybe he knew he was dying. Perhaps this was a means of guaranteeing the survival of the religious establishment in which she lived.
[ii] Mynors, R.A.B. ed. and trans. completed by Thomson, R.M. and Winterbottom, M. Gesta Regvm Anglorvm, The History of the English Kings, William of Malmesbury, (Clarendon Press, 1998), pp.199–201
[iv] Mynors, R.A.B. ed. and trans. completed by Thomson, R.M. and Winterbottom, M. Gesta Regvm Anglorvm, The History of the English Kings, William of Malmesbury, (Clarendon Press, 1998), pp.199–201
[vi] Foot, S. Athelstan (Yale University Press, 2011), p.45 Priest, D. trans. Gesta Pontificum Anglorum, The Deeds of the Bishops of England, (The Boydell Press, 2002)
[vii] Priest, D. trans. Gesta Pontificum Anglorum, The Deeds of the Bishops of England, (The Boydell Press, 2002), pp115–16
[ix] Sawyer, P.H. (ed.), Anglo-Saxon charters: An annotated list and bibliography, rev. Kelly, S.E., Rushforth, R., (2022). http://www.esawyer.org.uk/ S446
You can read about the many daughters of Edward the Elder in The King’s Daughter.
My first non-fiction title, The Royal Women Who Made England, is also now available in ebook and hardback and features these women and what we know about them.
The Battle of Winwæd, fought on 15th November 655, is the backdrop for the final book in the Gods and Kings trilogy, which follows three very famous battles, Hædfeld in 632/3, Maserfield in 642 and Winwæd in 655, only one of the battles being fought in the summer – which always surprises me. These three pitched battles saw Mercia and Northumbria vying for supremacy over the Saxon kingdoms of Britain, a narrative that has been interpreted as leading to Northumbria’s triumph, and indeed, its Golden Age.
But much of what happened from Hæ∂feld to Winwæd was a matter of family politics, muddled by the many marriages these kings may have made, and the horde of children they fathered who had opinions and aspirations of their own. Just as the War of the Roses many centuries later, this was a time when family loyalty meant little or nothing to some people, and everything to others.
The Mercian king, Penda, most famously known for being a pagan when the Saxon kingdoms were being converted to Christianity, achieved a great deal throughout his lifetime, regardless of the debate about how long he reigned for and when he can officially be known as King of Mercia, and he is the constant throughout these three battles. The bias of Bede, our main source for this period (even though he wrote in the following century) and his famous list of bretwaldas (wide-rulers) ignores Penda. In doing so people cast their eyes only on events in Northumbria, seeing Penda in the same light as Bede would have us do, as a pagan who continually thwarted the advances of the Christian doctrine either from the north (Celtic Christianity) or the south (Roman Christianity). In fact, Penda could reasonably be said to have achieved far more than the Northumbrian kings, Edwin, Oswald or Oswiu ever did – the men he battled against at Hædfeld, Maserfeld and Winwæd. It’s a great pity that he met his death in the way he did, allowing Bede to skewer his narrative even further, to make Oswiu, the Christian, the victor over Penda the pagan.
History can be cruel.
Yet recent historians cast Penda in a more complimentary light. D.P. Kirby calls him ‘without question the most powerful Mercian ruler so far to have emerged in the Midlands.’ Frank Stenton has gone further, ‘the most formidable king in England.’ Whilst N J Higham accords him ‘a pre-eminent reputation as a god-protected, warrior king.’ These aren’t hastily given words from men who’ve studied Saxon England to a much greater degree than I have.
The wording of Bede is vague when detailing this third and final battle of Penda’s against the Northumbrians. Bede could speak directly when he wanted to, or so it seems, but for some events, he applied a little haze of Northumbrian drizzle to obscure the facts, but on the fact that more men died in the flood waters than on the battlefield, he is clear.
Bede’s Ecclesiastical History of the English People
CHAPTER XXIV KING PENDA BEING SLAIN, THE MERCIANS RECEIVED THE FAITH OF CHRIST, AND OSWY GAVE POSSESSIONS AND TERRITORIES TO GOD, FOR BUILDING MONASTERIES, IN ACKNOWLEDGMENT FOR THE VICTORY OBTAINED. [A.D. 655.] AT this time, King Oswy was exposed to the fierce and intolerable irruptions of Penda, king of the Mercians, whom we have so often mentioned, and who had slain his brother; …….After this he gave battle with a very small army against superior forces: indeed, it is reported that the pagans had three times the number of men; for they had thirty legions, led on by most noted commanders. King Oswy and his son Aifrid met them with a very small army, as has been said, but confiding in the conduct of Christ; his other son, Egfrid, was then kept an hostage at the court of Queen Cynwise, in the province of the Mercians. King Oswald’s son Etheiwald, who ought to have assisted them, was on the enemy’s side, and led them on to fight against his country and uncle; though, during the battle, he withdrew, and awaited the event in a place of safety. The engagement beginning, the pagans were defeated, the thirty commanders, and those who had come to his assistance were put to flight, and almost all of them slain; among whom was Ethelbere, brother and successor to Anna, king of the East Angles, who had been the occasion of the war, and who was now killed, with all his soldiers. The battle was fought near the river Vinwed, which then, with the great rains, had not only filled its channel, hut overflowed its banks, so that many more were drowned in the flight than destroyed by the sword.
This narrative is largely copied in the other surviving sources, all much later than the events they describe.
Penda, son of Pybba, reigned ten years; he first separated the kingdom of Mercia from that of the North-men, and slew by treachery Anna, king of the East Anglians, and St. Oswald, king of the North-men. He fought the battle of Cocboy, in which fell Eawa, son of Pybba, his brother, king of the Mercians, and Oswald, king of the North-men, and he gained the victory by diabolical agency. He was not baptized, and never believed in God.
The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle (first written from the late 890s).
A.D. 655. This year Penda was slain at Wingfield, and thirty royal personages with him, some of whom were kings. One of them was Ethelhere, brother of Anna, king of the East-Angles. The Mercians after this became Christians. From the beginning of the world had now elapsed five thousand eight hundred and fifty winters, when Paeda, the son of Penda, assumed the government of the Mercians.
I thought I’d share some of my frustrations with writing about the lives of the ‘lost women’ of the tenth century.
The Tenth Century in Saxon England is often seen as heralding the triumph of Wessex to form England and to drive the Viking raiders far from England’s shores. That is both right and wrong, but it does mean that the names of the kings of the House of Wessex are well-known (comparatively speaking). The same can’t be said for the women who were wives, daughters and mothers of these kings. We can debate why this is but it doesn’t solve the problem of who these women were. For some of them, we don’t even know their names. We don’t know the name of King Athelstan’s mother, which astounds me. Equally, some of his half-sisters are quickly ‘lost’ in Continental Europe. Much of this is because they didn’t create huge dynasties to revere them after their death (apart from perhaps Eadgyth, who married Otto of the East Franks and whose sudden death deeply affected her husband). Of course, this problem is also compounded by the few surviving contemporary records.
Even those sources which do survive are not easy to access. Language barriers are a huge problem. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicles have been studied and translated into easily accessible volumes, but alas, only Ealhswith, wife of King Alfred, Æthelflæd of Mercia, her daughter Ælfwynn, and two unnamed sisters of Athelstan are actually mentioned in the ASC. We can find more names in Æthelweard’s Latin translation of the ASC known as the Chronicon but it is still not an exhaustive list of his own relatives. Æthelweard claimed descent from King Alfred’s brother, Æthelred I.
This situation doesn’t just apply to the tenth-century. The online resource, The Prosopography of Anglo-Saxon England (PASE), has a database of 33,981 male names listed for the entire period of Saxon England. Only 1460 female names are listed. As such, we know much more about the male members of Saxon England, than we do the females.
And, these women have received very little study. While there are academic books about the much better known eleventh-century queens, Emma of Normandy and Edith, the wife of Edward the Confessor, it’s not been possible to pick up a single title and learn about these lost women, aside from Elizabeth Norton’s monograph on Lady Elfrdia.
To begin with, I wished to fictionalise the life of Lady Elfrida, wife of King Edgar, thanks to the work by Elizabeth Norton. I then turned my mind to other women of the tenth century and, indeed, even to Lady Estrid, the sister of King Cnut. Time and again, I found that so little information had survived, the majority of it only a reference in relation to male members of the family, that much of their lives had to be reconstructed based on what is documented as happening at the time. There was certainly no tangible way to connect with these women, other than a possible surviving piece of embroidery which might have been stitched by King Edward the Elder’s second wife, and if not by her hand, then at her command, and which was found inside the tomb of St Cuthbert when it was opened in the early nineteenth century (1827).
I can’t help feeling this is how Æthelweard felt when he wrote his Chronicon. The passage of time has not made it any easier to uncover the names of the women, let alone their personalities.
I have now written a non-fiction account of this period, and it is now available from Pen and Sword books – The Royal Women Who Made England. I hope, alongside the fictionalised accounts of their lives, that this will inspire more interest in them.
I’m reading the beginning from A Conspiracy of Kings. Hopefully, you’ll enjoy listening below. Just click on the image. This does contain spoilers if you’ve not yet read book 1, The Lady of Mercia’s Daughter.
Who was Lady Æthelflæd, and what do we know about her from the contemporary sources?
Æthelflæd,[i] said to be the oldest of the children of King Alfred, and his wife, Lady Eahlswith, was born around 866, the exact details are unknown, although the date of her death is well attested as 12 June 918.[ii]
She was married to Lord Æthelred of the Mercians at some point during the 880s, although an exact date cannot be given. The first mention of this union occurs in a charter dated to 887,[iii] although the date may not be reliable. There is also little information about who Lord Æthelred might have been, and his subsequent military successes should not be dismissed, as they often are. Lord Æthelred is assumed to have been a nobleman from Mercia, and one with enough of a reputation to secure the marriage alliance with the Wessex royal family (and it must be assumed, unrelated to her mother’s birth family, and also her father’s family through his sister’s union to Burgred).
Their marriage was a success, and yet there was only one child, a daughter, Ælfwynn, born to the union, perhaps quite soon after the marriage occurred.
During her lifetime, Æthelflæd’s name appears on fifteen surviving charters. These are a real collection, some promulgated by her father, her brother, her husband and then, in her name alone. The earliest to feature her name is S223 dated to 884×9, so between 884 and 889, which survives in two manuscripts, and discussed the building of the burh at Worcester. In her final charters, she’s the sole promulgator, her husband no doubt having already died. It is believed he died in 911. S224 and S225 date to 914 and 915. S225 names Æthelflæd as the ruler of Mercia, something which The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle mirrors in some versions.
In 912, the C text records, ‘Here, on the eve of the Invention of the Holy Cross, Æthelflæd, Lady of the Mercians came to Scergeat and built a stronghold there, and the same year, that at Bridgnorth.’[xxvii]
In 913, the C text further records, ‘Here, God helping, Æthelflæd, Lady of the Mercians, went with all the Mercians to Tamworth, and then built the stronghold there early in the summer, and afterwards before Lammas that at Stafford.’[xxviii]
In 917, the C text writes, ‘Here, before Lammas, God helping, Æthelflæd, Lady of the Mercians took possession of the stronghold which is called Derby, together with all that belonged to it.’[xxxi]
Æthelflæd’s death is recorded in the A and C editions of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle and also in the E version of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, even if only in passing. ‘Here Æthelflæd, Lady of the Mercians, passed away.’[xxxii]
A text states: ‘and then when he (Edward) was settled in the seat there, his sister Æthelflæd at Tamworth, died 12 days before midsummer … and all the nation of the land of Mercia which was earlier subject to Æthelflæd turned to him.’
The C text of 918 offers:
Here in the early part of this year, with God’s help, she [Æthelflæd] peaceably got in her control the stronghold at Leicester and the most part of the raiding-armies that belonged to it were subjected. And also the York-folk had promised her – and some of them granted so by pledge, some confirmed with oaths – that they would be at her disposition. But very quickly after they had done that, she departed, twelve days before midsummer, inside Tamworth, the eighth year that she held control of Mercia, with rightful lordship; and her body lies inside Gloucester in the east side-chapel of St Peter’s Church.[xxxiii]
It seems highly probable that Æthelflæd’s death, when it came, was unexpected, occurring in the middle of an advance into the Danelaw and the Five Boroughs (Derby, Nottingham, Lincoln, Stamford, Leicester). It was left to her daughter, and also her brother, to continue her work, and you can read their story in The Lady of Mercia’s Daughter and A Conspiracy of Kings.
[xviii] Baker, N. and Holt, R. ‘The city of Worcester in the tenth century’, in St Oswald of Worcester: Life and InfluenceBrooks, N. and Cubitt, C. ed, (Leicester University Press, 1996), pp.134–5
[xix] Sawyer, P.H. (ed.), Anglo-Saxon charters: An annotated list and bibliography, rev. Kelly, S.E., Rushforth, R., (2022). http://www.esawyer.org.uk/, S1446
[xxi] Sawyer, P.H. (ed.), Anglo-Saxon charters: An annotated list and bibliography, rev. Kelly, S.E., Rushforth, R., (2022). http://www.esawyer.org.uk/, S1282
[xxii] Hart, C.R. The Early Charters of Northern England and the North Midlands (Leicester University Press, 1975), p.102 (100)
[xxvi] Swanton, M. ed. and trans. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicles, (Orion Publishing Group, 2000) Ibid., p.94
[xxxv] See Stafford, P. After Alfred. Anglo-Saxon Chronicles and Chroniclers 900–1150, (Oxford University Press, 2020), for a full discussion of the Æthelflæd and Edward Chronicles.
MJ Porter 
