Tag: The Lady of Mercia’s Daughter

A Conspiracy of Kings – a little bit of history #histfic #TheTenthCenturyRoyalWomen #nonfiction

A Conspiracy of Kings – a little bit of history (may contain spoilers for my fictional recreation of Lady Ælfwynn

In the sequel to The Lady of Mercia’s Daughter, the story of Lady Ælfwynn continues. She is The Second Lady of Mercia, but everything isn’t as it seems. In the various recensions of The Anglo-Saxon Chronicles, an attempt can be made to piece together what befalls her.

The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle A version doesn’t mention Ælfwynn at all but instead has King Edward of Wessex/the Anglo-Saxons taking control of Tamworth as soon as his sister dies in June 918. 

The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle E only mentions Lady Æthelflæd’s death in 918 and not what happens immediately after in Mercia. Lady Ælfwynn’s fate, however, is recorded in The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle C. We’re told that she was deprived of all power and ‘led into Wessex three weeks before Christmas.’ This entry is dated 919, although it’s normally taken to mean 918 due to a disparity between the dating in this part of The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle – known as the Mercian Register – where a new year starts in December as opposed to in the Winchester version of The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle where the new year starts in September. 

These details are stark, offering nothing further. What then actually happened to Lady Ælfwynn? Was she deprived of her power? Was she deemed unsuitable to rule?

What adds to the confusion surrounding Lady Ælfwynn is that other than this reference in The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, she doesn’t appear in any of the later sources. It’s as though she simply ceased to exist.

Two intriguing suggestions have been put forward to explain what happened to Lady Ælfwynn, both with some tenous corroboration.

Did she become a nun or, perhaps, a religious woman?

A later charter dated to 948 and promulgated by King Eadred is to an ‘Ælfwyn, a religious woman,’ and shows land being exchanged in Kent for two pounds of purest gold. (S535) There’s no indication that this Ælfwyn is related to our Ælfwynn or even to King Eadred. But, there remains the possibility that it might just have been the same woman, after all, Eadred would have been Ælfwynn’s cousin. Charter S535 survives in only one manuscript.

Alternatively, and based on a later source, Ramsey Abbey’s Book of Benefactors, we learn the following:

‘he [Athelstan Half-King] bestowed marriage upon a wife, one Ælfwynn by name, suitable for his marriage bed as much as by the nobility of her birth as by the grace of her unchurlish appearance. Afterwards she nursed and brought up with maternal devotion the glorious King Edgar, a tender boy as yet in the cradle. When Edgar afterwards attained the rule of all England, which was due to him by hereditary destiny, he was not ungrateful for the benefits he had received from his nurse. He bestowed on her, with regal munificence, the manor of Weston, which her son, the Ealdorman, afterwards granted to the church of Ramsey in perpetual alms for her soul, when his mother was taken from our midst in the natural course of events.’[i]

Which alternative is it?

There are only eight women named Ælfwynn listed in the Prosopography of Anglo-Saxon England (PASE), a fabulous online database. Of these, one is certainly Ælfwynn, the second lady of the Mercians, and one is undoubtedly the religious woman named in the charter from 948. (When the identification is not guaranteed, multiple entries are made in this invaluable online database). The other five women were alive much later than the known years Ælfwynn lived. One of the entries might possibly relate to her, but that’s all the information known about her. 

And this is far from unusual for many of the women of the House of Wessex. Some women are ‘lost’ on the Continent. Some are ‘lost’ in England.

‘Were it not for the prologue to Æthelweard’s Latin translation of an Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, we would know of only six tenth-century royal daughters or sisters from early English sources and the names of only four of them. Three of these named ones are nuns or abbesses. Only Ælfwynn, the daughter of Æthelflæd and Æthelred of Mercia, and the two daughters of Edward/sisters of Athelstan who married Otto I and Sihtric of York, appear in the witness lists of charters, though Eadburh, daughter of Edward the Elder, is a grantee of a charter of her brother Athelstan.’[ii]

Reconstructing a ‘possible’ life for Lady Ælfwynn was the inspiration for both The Lady of Mercia’s Daughter and A Conspiracy of Kings, and the potential for family betrayal, politicking, and war with the Viking raiders was just too good an opportunity to miss. 

[i] Edington, S and Others, Ramsey Abbey’s Book of Benefactors Part One: The Abbey’s Foundation, (Hakedes, 1998) pp.9-10

[ii] Stafford, P. Fathers and Daughters: The Case of Æthelred II in Writing, Kingship and Power in Anglo-Saxon England, (Cambridge University Press, 2018) p.142

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Find out more about who the historical Ælfwynn was here.

Visit The Tenth Century Royal Women page here.

Visit the Royal Women of The Tenth Century non-fiction page here

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The Lady of Mercia’s Daughter turns 8 years old #bookbirthday #Mercia

Another book birthday

I feel like these are coming thick and fast this year, but then I suppose I’ve written a lot of books.

To celebrate The Lady of Mercia’s Daughter turning 8, yes 8, today, I thought I’d share why I wrote about Lady Ælfwynn, and not her more famous mother, Lady Æthelflæd.

My first historical fiction story (that of Ealdorman Leofwine) was inspired by the fact that I realised he’d been almost written out of the history of the period. I’d read many, many books about the end of Saxon England, and few of them mentioned the Earls of Mercia at all, apart from his descendants, Edwin, Morcar and Eadgyth. This has often been the way. I find a character who’s been forgotten about (because most historical individuals have been forgotten about) and I reimagine their lives and endeavour to either rehabilitate them, or at least shine a light on them. The same can be said for Lady Ælfwynn, the Lady of Mercia’s Daughter, and the Second Lady of the Mercians in her own right.

Even though she attests a number of charters, and is named in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle (which is very rare for the women of the tenth century) no one had heard of her. I was determined to put that right, largely helped by an academic paper I read about her which got my brain firing with ideas.

Piecing together the scant information available (and possibly known) about her, I created The Lady of Mercia’s Daughter, and subsequently, the sequel, A Conspiracy of Kings. In doing so I don’t suggest at all that this is a recreation of the life she led, but it certainly presents a possible life for her, and one that is a little more exciting than the often cited ‘she became a nun,’ argument to explain why she disappears from the historical record so quickly. It also allowed me to try my hand at family politics, which so often came into play during the era. And, for fans of King Coelwulf II and The Last King books, I can certainly ‘see’ a lot of his later creation in the pages of The Lady of Mercia’s Daughter.

Here’s the blurb

Betrayal is a family affair.

12th June AD918. 

Æthelflæd, Lady of the Mercians and daughter of Alfred the Great, is dead.

Ælfwynn, the niece of Edward, King of Wessex, has been bequeathed her mother’s power and status by the men of the Mercian witan. But she knows Mercia is vulnerable to the north, exposed to the retreating world of the Viking raiders from her mother’s generation.

With her cousin Athelstan, Ealdorman Æthelfrith and his sons, Archbishop Plegmund and her band of trusted warriors, Ælfwynn must act decisively to subvert the threat from the Norse. Led by Lord Rognavaldr, the grandson of the infamous Viking raider, Ivarr of Dublin, they’ve turned their gaze toward the desolate lands of northern Saxon England and the jewel of York.

Inexplicably she’s also exposed to the south, where her detested cousin, Ælfweard, and uncle, King Edward, eye her position covetously, their ambitions clear to see.

This is the unknown story of Ælfwynn, the daughter of the Lady of the Mercians and the startling events of late 918 when family loyalty and betrayal marched hand in hand across lands only recently reclaimed by the Mercians. Kingdoms could be won or lost through treachery and fidelity, and there was little love and even less honesty. And the words of a sword were heard far more loudly than those of a king or churchman, noble lady’s daughter or Viking raider.

You can now grab The Lady of Mercia’s Daughter duology, containing both books featuring Lady Ælfwynn

Check out the series page for The Tenth Century Royal Women.

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I thought I’d share some of my frustrations with writing about the lives of the ‘lost women’ of the tenth century.

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.

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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.

The Royal Women Who Made England cover image.

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I’m reading the beginning of A Conspiracy of Kings #LadyÆlfwynn

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.

Find out who the historical Ælfwynn was here.

Buy A Conspiracy of Kings here.

(Also available with Kindle Unlimited.)

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Who was the Lady of Mercia, Æthelflæd? #non-fiction #Mercia

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.

Or you can read about the historical women in my non-fiction title, The Royal Women Who Made England.

You can can read all about her daughter, the historical Ælfwynn here.

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[i] PASE Æthelflæd (4)

[ii] Swanton, M. ed. and trans. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicles, (Orion Publishing Group, 2000), AD 918

[iii] S217, surviving in two manuscripts

[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

[xxvii] Ibid., p.96

[xxviii] Ibid., p.96

[xxix] Ibid., p.97

[xxx] Ibid., p.100

[xxxi] Ibid., p.101

[xxxii] Ibid., p.103

[xxxiii] Ibid., p.105

[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.

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I’m sharing the first chapter from A Conspiracy of Kings #histfic #TheRoyalWomen

Here’s the beginning from A Conspiracy of Kings (there might be spoilers if you’ve not read The Lady of Mercia’s Daughter)

Chapter 1

Tamworth, the kingdom of Mercia, 918

We feast that night. There are smiles and tears on everyone’s faces as Tamworth’s great hall is swept clear of the men and women from Wessex. My armed guard ensures no one hurts them as the Mercians pull tables and benches to fill the vast space left behind. My servants, taken only somewhat by surprise as they were expecting a feast one way or another after the witan, rush to ensure everyone has a drink, if not food. 

Cousin Ecgwynn hurries to me as I watch the activity, questions on her lips and I throw my arms around her, unheeding her sumptuous gown while I wear the clothes of a warrior. Usually, she would protest. But not today.

‘Enough of that,’ Cousin Ecgwynn complains, batting my embrace away, and not delicately. She holds my arms away from her, glaring at me.

I can see the flicker of rage in her blue eyes and the tightness of her stance.

‘You let me believe you were dead! I’ve been mourning for you, as I would a sister, and coming so soon after the death of Lady Æthelflæd….’ Her normally serene face floods with tears as her words trail off. I thrust my arms around her again, holding her tighter, hoping to make her understand, using my strength gained on the training field to overpower hers. I absorb her scent, the familiarity of home, the reminder of all that my uncle and Archbishop Plegmund tried to take from me.

‘I’m sorry, dear Ecgwynn. It was.’ I pause, unsure what to say, speaking into her ear as I continue to hold her tight. ‘Well, in all honesty, it was all we could think of to ensure that Uncle Edward’s treachery was exposed.’

I don’t call King Edward of Wessex her father. That would be too cruel. I think that, like me, Lady Ecgwynn could happily forget that a man was even involved in her conception and birth. Certainly, he’s done little enough for her since he became the king of Wessex when she was no more than a child and banished her to Mercia alongside Cousin Athelstan.

But Cousin Ecgwynn’s not finished yet. Once more, she pulls her way clear of my embrace, determined to argue with me.

‘But my brother knew and still didn’t tell me. That’s too cruel,’ her angry voice is gaining force. I know there’s nothing to do but try and explain. I could make excuses all night long, but she’s almost my sister, and she deserves the truth.

‘He knew. But only because he came to me and saw that I still lived after the attack in the north. Admittedly, cousin Athelstan could have told you that I wasn’t dead, but then, how would you have greeted King Edward when he came to Mercia to stake his claim for it? He couldn’t know that I yet lived.’

‘I’m not a woman to have her head turned by the arrival of a man whose only call on her affection is to claim to be her father. I wouldn’t have put your scheme in peril!’ Her voice is shrill with outrage, all tears forgotten, as she chastises me, her words coming almost too fast to decipher.

To the side, cousin Athelstan hovers, and I know why. He’s not scared of facing any man on the battlefield, but his sister? Well, he’d sooner not see her angry, and certainly, he’s content for me to be the one to soothe her. 

I realise then that we erred when we made our plans.

‘No, I know you’re not. Apologies, cousin Ecgwynn. It wasn’t done because of a lack of trust. It was just better if as few as possible knew the truth.’ I can see that being so brutally honest at least pleases her, even if her forehead remains lined with anger and her lips purse tightly.

I hold my arms out once more. This time she steps into them willingly, a faint wrinkle on her nose because I smell of horse and sweat. I feel her shoulders sag, and her body trembles as though she’s going to cry. But she steps away from my embrace mere moments later, a watery smile on her face.

‘If only everyone I ever loved who died could come back to life, as you have. It would make my heart ache less.’ I nod. Abruptly, my thoughts focus on my mother, and despite my warrior’s prowess, my grief is fresh. I’d gladly step into my mother’s arms and cry away all my sorrows and disappointments at my uncle’s actions. 

‘What would your mother think?’ Lady Ecgwynn asks, her thoughts following mine as she loops her arm through mine to walk amongst the people toasting my good health and the future of Mercia. Their voices range from soft to the roar of a battle cry. I chuckle at the exuberance, aware that cousin Athelstan stays close. He and cousin Ecgwynn will need to make peace with each other at some point. But not yet.

‘I hardly know what my mother would think or do. She and Edward were never close; at least, I don’t think they were. But, I believe she understood his ambitions well, all the same.’

‘Your mother was an excellent judge of character,’ cousin Ecgwynn confirms. ‘Although she did trust Archbishop Plegmund, the poisonous snake.’ 

My voice ripples with laughter as I picture Plegmund’s face too easily as the head of a snake.

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The cover for A Conspiracy of Kings

Find out who the historical Ælfwynn was here.

Visit The Tenth Century Royal Women page here.

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Who was the historical Ælfwynn, the main character in The Lady of Mercia’s Daughter duology?

Ælfwynn, the daughter of Æthelflæd of Mercia and her husband, Æthelred was born at some point in the late 880s or early 890s. It’s believed that she was an only child, although it does appear (in the later accounts of William of Malmesbury – an Anglo-Norman writer from centuries later) that her cousins, Athelstan, and his unnamed sister, were sent to Mercia to be raised by their aunt when Edward remarried on becoming king in 899. There is a suggestion that it might have been Alfred’s decision to do this and that Athelstan was being groomed to become king of Mercia, not Wessex.

The Family Tree of Alfred the Great, king of Wessex

Ælfwynn is mentioned in three charters. S367, surviving in one manuscript, dates to 903, where she witnesses without a title. S1280, survives in two manuscripts, dates to 904 and reads in translation.

‘Wærferth, bishop, and the community at Worcester, to Æthelred and Æthelflæd, their lords; lease, for their lives and that of Ælfwynn, their daughter, of a messuage (haga) in Worcester and land at Barbourne in North Claines, Worcs., with reversion to the bishop. Bounds of appurtentant meadow west of the [River] Severn.’[i]

[i] Sawyer, P. H. (Ed.), Anglo-Saxon charters: An annotated list and bibliography, rev. Kelly, S. E., Rushforth, R., (2022). http://www.esawyer.org.uk/ S1280. See above for the full details under Æthelflæd

Historians have reconstructed this haga in Worcester in ‘The city of Worcester in the tenth century’ by N Baker and R Holt.

In S225, surviving in one manuscript, dated to 915, Ælfwynn witnesses below her mother. Hers is the second name on the document. This could be significant, as she would certainly have been an adult by now, was she already being prepared as the heir to Mercia on her mother’s death? 

Ælfwynn is named in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle in the C text under 919. ‘Here also the daughter of Æthelred lord of the Mercians, was deprived of all control in Mercia, and was led into Wessex three weeks before Christmas; she was called Ælfwynn.’[i]

[i] Swanton, M. trans and edit The Anglo-Saxon Chronicles, (Orion Publishing Group, 2000), p.105

And from there, we hear nothing more of Lady Ælfwynn, the second lady of the Mercians. Even though this is the first record of a ruling woman being succeeded by her daughter. 

There’s no further mention of Ælfwynn in The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. It’s been assumed that she became a nun, and she might well be referenced in charter S535, surviving in one manuscript, and which Eadred granted at the request of his mother, dated to 948, reading,

‘King Eadred to Ælfwyn, a religious woman; grant of 6 hides (mansae), equated with 6 sulungs, at Wickhambreux, Kent, in return for 2 pounds of purest gold.’[i]

[i] Sawyer, P. H. (Ed.), Anglo-Saxon charters: An annotated list and bibliography, rev. Kelly, S. E., Rushforth, R., (2022). http://www.esawyer.org.uk/ S535

Bailey has suggested that, ‘In view of its close association with the women of the royal family, and of Eadgifu’s patronage of Ælfwynn (in S535), I would venture to suggest that it is possible she too may have ended her days at Wilton.’[i]

[i] Bailey. M, ‘Ælfwynn, Second Lady of the Mercians’, Edward the Elder, 899-924 Higham, N.J. and Hill, D. H. ed (Routledge, 2001), p.125

This would mean that rather than ruling as her mother would have wanted her to, Ælfwynn was overruled by her uncle, who essentially stole her right to rule Mercia as soon as he possibly could on her mother’s death. It must be said that he might have later paid for this with his life if he was indeed putting down a Mercian rebellion in Farndon when he died in 924.

Alternatively, there is another beguiling theory that Ælfwynn might not have become a nun but was, in fact, married to Athelstan, an ealdorman of East Anglia, known as the ‘Half-King,’ because of the vast control he had in East Anglia. It’s long been believed that this label might well have resulted from the fact that Athelstan was an extremely powerful and well-landed nobleman who was much beloved by the Wessex royal family and its kings. However, it might well be because he was indeed married to the king’s cousin (under Athelstan, Edmund and Eadred). If this is the case, and it’s impossible to prove, then Ælfwynn, as the wife of Ealdorman Athelstan, had four sons, Æthelwold, Æthelwine, Æthelsige and Ælfwold, and these sons would be friends and enemies of the kings of England in later years. She might also have been given the fostering of the orphaned, and future King Edgar, which would also have made these men the future king’s foster brothers.

‘he [Athelstan Half-King] bestowed marriage upon a wife, one Ælfwynn by name, suitable for his marriage bed as much as by the nobility of her birth as by the grace of her unchurlish appearance. Afterwards she nursed and brought up with maternal devotion the glorious King Edgar, a tender boy as yet in the cradle. When Edgar afterwards attained the rule of all England, which was due to him by hereditary destiny, he was not ungrateful for the benefits he had received from his nurse. He bestowed on her, with regal munificence, the manor of Weston, which her son, the Ealdorman, afterwards granted to the church of Ramsey in perpetual alms for her soul, when his mother was taken from our midst in the natural course of events.’

Edington, S and Others, Ramsey Abbey’s Book of Benefactors Part One: The Abbey’s Foundation, (Hakedes, 1998) pp.9-10

 

If this identification is correct, ‘This would explain why she was considered suitable to be a foster-mother to the ætheling Edgar. It may even explain why Edgar was considered in 957 suitable to rule Mercia.’[i]

[i] Jayakumar, S. ‘Eadwig and Edgar’, in Edgar, King of the English, 959-975, ed. D Scragg (Boydell Press, 2014), p.94 

If Lady Ælfwynn did survive beyond the events of 919, it seems highly likely she would have continued her friendship with her cousin, Athelstan, when he became king of Mercia, and then Wessex and then England. It’s also highly likely that she might have rallied support for him in Mercia. 

Certainly, the first known occurrence of a woman succeeding a woman in Saxon England ended in obscurity for Lady Ælfwynn.

So, who is my Lady Ælfwynn?

Well, she’s a warrior woman, reeling from the unexpected death of her mother. She is her mother’s daughter. She knows what’s expected of her, and she has no problem contending with the men of the witan, her uncle, Edward king of Wessex, or indeed, the Viking raiders. She and Rognvaldr Sigfrodrsson have a particularly intriguing relationship.

Here’s the beginning of The Lady of Mercia’s Daughter

‘The men of the witan stand before me in my hall at Tamworth, the ancient capital of the kingdom of Mercia. The aged oak beams bear the brunt of centuries of smoking fires. Some are hard men, glaring at me as though this predicament is of my making. They are the beleaguered Mercians, the men from the disputed borders to the north, the east, and the west, if not the south. They’re the men who know the cost of my mother’s unexpected death. And strangely, for all their hard stares and uncompromising attitudes, their crossed arms and tight shoulders, they’re the men I trust the most in this vast hall. It’s filled with people I know by name and reputation, if not by sight.

Those with sympathy etched onto their faces are my uncle’s allies. These men might once have understood the dangers that Mercia faces, but they’ve grown too comfortable hidden away in Wessex and Kent. Mercia has suffered the brunt of the continual encroachments while they’ve been safe from Viking attack for nearly twenty years. Some are too young to have been born when Wessex was almost extinguished under the onslaught of the northern warriors.

Even the clothes of the sympathetic are different from those with hard stares. Not for them, the warriors’ garb. There are no gaping spaces on warrior belts where seaxes and swords should hang, but don’t, as weapons must not be worn in my presence. 

No, they wear the luxurious clothing of royalty, even if they’re not members of the House of Wessex. They have the time, and the wealth, to ensure their attire is as opulent as it can be. They don’t fear a middle-of-the-night call to arms. They don’t need to maintain vigilance or continuously be battle-ready. They don’t have to fight for their kingdom and their family at a moment’s notice or be ready to lose a loved one or face a fight to the death.’

https://amzn.to/3JnZoDC

(available with Kindle Unlimited)

To read more about the women of the tenth century in Saxon England, check out The Royal Women Who Made England, now available.

The Royal Women Who Made England cover

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A Conspiracy of Kings turns 3 today. #bookbirthday #TheRoyalWomen

It’s a week of book birthdays! Today, it’s the turn of A Conspiracy of Kings, the sequel to The Lady of Mercia’s Daughter.

Here’s the blurb

Mercia, 918.

Lady Ælfwynn has taken her mother’s place as the Lady of Mercia, to the displeasure of her uncle in Wessex, and against his efforts to subvert it.

King Edward, casts his eye longingly over Mercia, and finds a willing accomplice where none should exist. This time, the threat to Lady Ælfwynn is not as easy to defeat.

This is the continuing story of Lady Ælfwynn, the granddaughter of King Alfred, begun in The Lady of Mercia’s Daughter.

It is intended that The Lady of Mercia’s Daughter should be read before A Conspiracy of Kings.

https://amzn.to/421LHRq

https://amzn.to/46DvlA6

A Conspiracy of Kings was the book I wrote immediately before starting the stories of King Coelwulf, Mercia’s last king. If not for these two books, I’d never have wanted to write about Coelwulf, so I feel I owe this book a lot, and indeed, having just reread it, I can see a lot of details that resonate with me.

If you’ve not thought of reading these two books, then please do. I can assure you, my incarnation of Lady Ælfwynn is a bit bad ass. The new covers are also available in paperback.

These two books are part of my Tales of Mercia series of standalone stories charting the rise and fall of the Saxon kingdom of Mercia.

Check out my post on visiting Gloucester, where Lady Ælfwynn’s mother, Lady Æthelflæd, the lady of Mercia, was buried.

Visit The Tenth Century Royal Women Page.

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I’m excited to share the new cover for A Conspiracy of Kings

Here it is. The new cover for A Conspiracy of Kings, the sequel to The Lady of Mercia’s Daughter.

Here’s the blurb

Mercia, 918.

Lady Ælfwynn has taken her mother’s place as the Lady of Mercia, to the displeasure of her uncle in Wessex, and against his efforts to subvert it.

King Edward, casts his eye longingly over Mercia, and finds a willing accomplice where none should exist. This time, the threat to Lady Ælfwynn is not as easy to defeat.

This is the continuing story of Lady Ælfwynn, the granddaughter of King Alfred, begun in The Lady of Mercia’s Daughter.

It is intended that The Lady of Mercia’s Daughter should be read before A Conspiracy of Kings.

It’s been fabulous to have the opportunity to revisit both of these books in the last few months, while working on my non-fiction book about the royal women of The House of Wessex in the long tenth century.

Visit The Tenth Century Royal Women Page for more information.

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