Dining With a Saxon: Guest post by Regan Walker

Bayeux Tapestry, cookingWhile doing research for my medieval romance, The Red Wolf’s Prize, I discovered some interesting things about the dietary habits of those living in England at the time of the Norman Conquest in 1066. To my surprise, they ate quite well and, for the upper class, their diet was quite varied.

If you were to accept an invitation to dine in the manor house of a Saxon thegn, what you might be served would depend on where in England you were. Wild boar lived in the forests even to the 12th century, as did deer. Your main course could thus be roast venison or boar. There were also game fowl and other birds. If you were in sheep country, depending on the time of year, you might have roast lamb. Meat would have been served more in summer and autumn when domestic animals were killed and game was more readily available, although pigs, sheep and cattle were killed during the winter as well in order to provide fresh meat.

If your thegn lived near a river or the sea, you might be served fish or shellfish. A wide variety of fish was eaten, including herring, salmon and eel, as well as others not eaten as much today such as pike, perch and roach. It is also thought that they ate flounder, whiting, plaice, cod and brown trout. Shellfish, especially oysters, mussels and cockles formed a part of the diet for those with access to them. Fish was eaten fresh, but also preserved for less plentiful times of year. It could be salted, smoked, pickled or dried.

Since the fork was not invented then, you’d be eating your dinner with a spoon and knife. Even women had their own eating knives with sharp blades that could spear a tasty bit of venison.

Of course, there would be bread. They grew wheat, rye, oats and barley: wheat for bread, barley for brewing and oats for animal fodder and porridge. Sometimes a lord’s rent was paid in leavened bread. But even the grains varied by location. Wheat made the finest, whitest bread but it was not grown everywhere. If you were in Southern England, where the main cereal crop was wheat, your bread might be wheat or mixed grains, but in the north, where oats were grown for their weather resistance, you might be served oat-based breads and cereals at certain times. And you’d have butter on your bread. Milk, especially sheep’s and goat’s milk, was used to make butter and cheese.

Eggs from chickens, ducks and geese would also have been eaten although the fowl of the period would not have laid as those of today and the eggs might have been smaller.

Harvesting from 11th Century Anglo-Saxon Calendar

Your meal would also be accompanied by vegetables grown in the kitchen garden or on the surrounding farms owned by the lord of the manor. It is known that they had carrots, but these were not the large orange vegetables that we eat today. They were closer to their wild ancestors, purplish red and small. Welsh carrots, or parsnips were also available. Cabbages were of a wild variety, with smaller tougher leaves. And they cultivated legumes such as peas and beans. So, a rich array was available.

If the meal was of the more ordinary variety, you might be served a hearty stew. Peasants ate soups and stews and used meat for flavoring. Such a stew might contain wild root vegetables such as burdock and rape, and onions and leeks, even wild garlic.

Spices were available, so your meal wouldn’t be bland. In Aelfric’s Colloquy, the merchant speaks of importing spices. Food imports were moved around the coast and up the rivers by barge and boat. Depending on your thegn’s location, among the spices used on your food might be ginger, cinnamon, cloves mace and pepper. In Bald’s Leechbook, broths of mint and carrot and ginger, peas and cumin are mentioned.

Salt was a precious, expensive commodity produced from evaporation from seawater and from salt springs in Worcestershire and Cheshire (near where The Red Wolf’s Prize is set). You may recall the Middle Ages expression “below the salt,” which refers to those lesser beings who sat below the place in the table where the salt was placed.

To drink, there would be ale, apple wine and honey mead wine served, most likely, in wooden or pottery cups and mugs, though there is no evidence of handles on these. Horns were also used. After the Conquest, if not before, you might be served wine imported from Normandy or other parts of France.

Dessert might be a healthy affair: apples, pears, quinces, cherries, grapes, peaches and berries—in season and in locations where they were grown. They did have honey as a sweetener, too, and almond cakes were popular though not served every day.

Much of Anglo-Saxon life changed with the coming of the Normans in 1066. For one thing, the new Norman lord owned all the forests and could deny access to the game. The Saxons who were once freemen became virtual serfs. With 5,000 knights to feed, William the Conqueror was quick to claim resources for himself, thereby depriving the English population of the rich diet they once had.


ReganWalker_TheRedWolf'sPrize_600x900

Bestselling author Regan Walker loved to write stories as a child, particularly those about adventure-loving girls, but by the time she got to college more serious pursuits took priority. One of her professors encouraged her to pursue the profession of law, which she did. Years of serving clients in private practice and several stints in high levels of government gave her a love of international travel and a feel for the demands of the “Crown” on its subjects. Hence her romance novels often involve a demanding sovereign who taps his subjects for “special assignments.” In each of her novels, there is always real history and real historic figures.

Regan lives in San Diego with her golden retriever, Link, whom she says inspires her every day to relax and smell the roses.

 www.reganwalkerauthor.com

Review of “The House of Godwine” by Emma Mason

The House of Godwine: The History of a DynastyThe House of Godwine: The History of a Dynasty by Emma Mason

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I read this book some months ago, and today, as I was looking up a detail for more clarification, I realized that this volume was full of paper slips marking important passages. Then I realized I never reviewed this book which I keep on hand while working on my historical fiction projects. Well, I suppose this is a classic case of taking a book for granted, since I’m still actively using it.

I find “The House of Godwine” to be a clear, detailed and useful history that goes farther than merely recording pertinent details. Emma Mason skillfully puts “two and two” together and ventures to explain how certain events occurred or why people did what they did. For instance, when Harold launched his lightning attack on the court of Gruffydd ap Llewelyn in 1062: “It has been suggested that Aelfgar died in the Christmas season, possibly while attending court, and that this opportunity was seized to attack his ally Gruffydd ap Llewelyn before he learned of the earl’s death and could reinforce his own position.” Now, I knew about the Christmas campaign for years but never thought to associate it with Aelfgar’s death. This may or may not have happened as suggested, but the explanation is compelling.

In case you are wondering, yes, Emma uses extensive Notes to support her work. In fact, out of 281 pages, the Notes and Index start on page 203. As far as I can tell, she used her sources to best describe an event (such as the Battle of Hastings), then gave references every step of the way. So at Hastings, for instance, she gave us a depiction of the battle with notes every few sentences referencing many different sources. All total the battle description was thorough and it made a lot of sense. The same technique is used throughout the book.

I would say The House of Godwine is not an ideal history for beginners. It is not light reading, but for someone versed in the basics, the details here are welcome and useful. I picked up many things I hadn’t run across before. Another for-instance: “Harold knew that Norman plans for invasion of England were now well under way. William of Poitiers wrote that he sent spies to report back with more detailed information. One of these men was captured and his cover story was blown. He was taken before the duke, but instead of condemning him William seized the opportunity to send a message intended to demoralize his rival…” That’s the kind of detail I just gobble up!

The book starts with a good overview of England’s culture and politics before and during Aethelred’s reign, and ends with how the survivors after Hastings dealt with the new regime. This is where I discovered that Count Alain le Rouge, who led the Breton contingent at Hastings, carried off Edith Swanneck’s daughter Gunhild from her exile at Wilton abbey. Since Alain held much of the land previously owned by Gunhild’s mother, the daughter’s presence presumably calmed his Anglo-Danish tenants. She stayed with him until he died then became his brother’s partner in turn. I learned this tidbit just in time to incorporate it into my debut novel. Needless to say, I was thrilled. This is one book I will have to read more than once.

View all my reviews

Bishopricks of England under Edward the Confessor

 Once again, here is a map taken from Vol. 2 of Edward A. Freeman’s History of the Norman Conquest of England. (Click twice to bring map to full size.)  According to the author, as the early ecclesiastics converted the Kings and people to Christianity, each kingdom (or principality) formed a new diocese that was given the name of the tribe, rather than the name of a city (as on the Continent). There were a few exceptions; the Bishops of York, London, and Rochester were named after their city. Apparently the  boundaries of the Bishopricks were quite fluid, especially when someone died and the dioceses were redistributed. I believe this map represents the state of affairs around 1046 or so, after the death of Bishop Lyfing (who went to Rome with Canute) when the Bishopricks of Devonshire and Cornwall were combined to become Exeter.

 

Gruffydd ap Llewelyn Prince of Wales (Guest post by Ky White)

MedievalWales  Gruffydd ap Llywelyn was born about 1010, the elder of two sons of Llywelyn ap Seisyll, who had been able to rule both Gwynedd and Powys. On Llywelyn’s death in 1023, a member of the Aberggraw dynasty, Iago ab Idwal ap Meurig, became ruler of Gwynedd. Gruffydd, according to an early story, had been a lazy youth, but one New Year’s Eve he was driven out of the house by his exasperated sister. Leaning against the wall of another house, he heard a cook who was boiling pieces of beef in a cauldron complain that there was one piece of meat which kept coming to the top of the cauldron, however often it was thrust down. Gruffydd took the comment to apply to himself, and began his rise to power.

In 1055 Gruffydd ap Llywelyn killed his rival Gruffydd ap Rhydderch in battle, and recaptured Deheubarth. Gruffydd now allied himself with Aelfgar, son of Earl Leofric of Mercia, who had been deprived of his earldom of East Anglia by Harold Godwinson and his brothers. They marched on Hereford and were opposed by a force led by the earl of Hereford, Ralph ‘the Timid’. This force was mounted and armed in the Norman fashion, but on 24 October Gruffydd defeated it. He then sacked the city and destroyed its Norman castle. Earl Harold was given the task of counter-attacking, and seems to have built a fortification at Longtown in the Golden Valley of Herefordshire before refortifying Hereford. Shortly afterwards Aelfgar was restored to his earldom and a peace treaty concluded.

About 1056 Gruffydd married Ealdgyth, daughter of Aelfgar. They had three children, of whom their daughter Nesta would have progeny. Around this time Gruffydd was also able to seize Morgannwg and Gwent, along with extensive territories along the border with England. In 1056 he won another victory over an English army near Glasbury. He now claimed sovereignty over the whole of Wales – a claim which was recognised by the English.

Gruffydd reached an agreement with England’s King Edward ‘the Confessor’, but the death of his ally Aelfgar in 1062 left him more vulnerable. In late 1062 Harold Godwinson obtained the king’s approval for a surprise attack on Gruffydd’s court at Rhuddlan. Gruffydd was nearly captured, but was warned in time to escape out to sea in one of his ships, though his other ships were destroyed. In the spring of 1063 Harold’s brother Tostig led an army into north Wales while Harold led the fleet first to south Wales and then north to meet with his brother’s army. Gruffydd was forced to take refuge in Snowdonia, but at this stage his own men killed him, on 5 August 1063 according to the _Bruy y Tywysogion_ chronicle.

(The _Ulster Chronicle_ states that in 1063 he was killed by Cynan ap Iago, whose father Iago ab Idwal had been put to death by Gruffydd in 1039. Gruffydd had probably made enemies in the course of uniting Wales under his rule. Walter Map had preserved a comment from Gruffydd himself about this: ‘Speak not of killing; I but blunt the horns of the offspring of Wales lest they should injure their dam’.) Gruffydd’s head and the figurehead of his ship were sent to Harold Godwinson.

Following Gruffydd’s death, Harold married his widow Ealdgyth, though she was to be widowed again three years later. Gruffydd’s realm was divided again into the traditional kingdom. Bleddyn ap Cynfyn and his brother Rhiwallon came to an agreement with Harold and were given the rule of Gwynedd and Powys. Thus when Harold, as King Harold II of England, was defeated and killed at the Battle of Hastings in 1066, the Normans reaching the borders of Wales were confronted by the traditional kingdoms rather than a single king. In 1069 Gruffydd’s two sons challenged Bleddyn and Rhiwallon at the battle of Mechain in an attempt to win back part of their father’s kingdom. However they were defeated, one being killed and the other dying of exposure after the battle.

(Avid historian & family historian, Ky White is an 8 generation Texan and from early English, Scottish, & Scots-Irish stock. I have a mechanical engineering degree from the U.S. Military Academy and a masters degree in History from Sam Houston State U. I try to post a daily diary of medieval events on FB.)

 

English Earldoms of 1065

Once again, here is another map from Edward A. Freeman’s History of the Norman Conquest of England compiled by him based on signed charters, chronicle entries, royal writs, and other historical notes. This is a useful snapshot of the end of Edward the Confessor’s reign. According to Freeman, the last great division of earldoms came about in 1057 after the death of Earl Leofric of Mercia, when his son Aelfgar was translated from East Anglia to Mercia. This left East Anglia to be portioned off to the younger sons of Godwine.  Aelfgar died between 1062-1065, and Mercia went directly to his elder son Eadwine.

By November of 1065, Tostig had been driven out of Northumbria, usurped by Morkere, younger son of Aelfgar. That whole episode took the form of a revolt, later reluctantly confirmed by King Edward. The outlying section of Northumberland (Northampton and Huntingdon) were bestowed on Waltheof, son of the old Earl Siward; he was passed over as Earl of Northumbria when his father died in 1055 because he was only a child.

I find it interesting that “the ancient boundaries both of Wessex and of East-Anglia were freely tampered with” when Leofwine’s earldom was defined. Although the west side of Harold’s earldom was enlarged to encompass Ralph of Mantes Earldom of Herefordshire (probably in 1057), Harold gave up Kent and Buckingshire to his younger brother. Freeman states that the city of London never fell under the jurisdiction of any earl; the Londoners were self-governing.

Apparently the earldoms of Mercia and East Anglia were the most fluid; the borders were changed around and they were occasionally dismembered several times in Edward’s reign. It is possible that some of the subordinate earls mentioned in charters were answerable to the great earls in this time frame, and much of this confusion dates back to Canute’s reign. Additionally, it is more than possible that some of the Danish chieftains signed charters as Earl but did not command any holdings in England. It’s as clear as mud!


If you haven’t already seen it, you can view Freeman’s Earldoms in 1045 here.

 

What is Trial by Compurgation?

Joseph Strutt from Kings and Queens of Britain
Joseph Strutt from Kings and Queens of Britain

While researching my manuscript, GODWINE KINGMAKER, I bumped into a comment dropped by E.A. Freeman.  He was talking about King Harthacnut’s accusation that Godwine was responsible for the murder of Alfred Aetheling. Speaking of the trial, Freeman mentioned “compurgation…was looked on as the most effectual proof of innocence.” I glanced over this passage then stopped short and had to go back. Compurgation? What is that?

Well, it turns out that Trial by Compurgation was the most common method used in the Middle Ages to determine the innocence of an accused. Also called “Wager of Law”, this method was actually used in some forms of civil cases all the way into the 19th century. Here’s what it entails: the accused party takes an oath of innocence. Then he calls forth a predetermined number of “oath-helpers” (or compurgators), usually 11 or 12 friends or neighbors, who are prepared to declare that they believe he is telling the truth. These oath-helpers aren’t required to have any specific knowledge of the crime; they are more like character witnesses who could be held responsible if the accused profited from his freedom. The higher the status of the oath-helper, the more weight their opinions held.

According to Freeman, “Godwine asserted his own innocence on oath, and his solemn plea of Not Guilty was confirmed by the oaths of most of the Earls and chief Thegns of England…Godwine’s acquittal was as solemn as any acquittal could be. All the chief men of England swore to their belief in his innocence.” (Vol. 1 p.510, History of the Norman Conquest.)

If a defendant did not have access to compurgators, he could be required to submit to an old-fashioned Trial by Ordeal: Ordeal of Fire (remember Emma of Normandy and the burning ploughshares), Ordeal of Boiling Water, Ordeal of Cold Water, and of course plenty of variations depending on the will of the arbitrator.  These make Trial by Compurgation rather tame by comparison!

In the end, it would seem that Godwine’s innocence was not believed by everyone, as the stigma of Alfred’s death dogged him until the end. In fact, during his last meal with the King, the story goes that Godwine declared that he should choke on a piece of bread if he was guilty…and of course, that’s just what happened.  (No, Godwine is my  hero and I don’t believe this propaganda!)

 

William the Conqueror’s Landing, 1066

The Landing of William the Conqueror at Hastings by Charles Edward Dixon 1910 (sourced from Christies.com)

I remember my first trip to England somewhere around 1990 or so.  I headed directly south to Hastings, for I had been studying about the great event and wanted to see the battlefield for myself.  Of course, travel itineraries were much harder to plan in those days, but I saw no reason to doubt that I would find what I was looking for as long as I had a good map. Well, I was certainly in for a surprise!

As I recall, Hastings was a sleepy little city.  Yes, there are castle ruins there, but no battlefield.  As I was soon to discover, much to my embarrassment, the battle was fought about 7 miles north of Hastings at a place called Battle (no wonder!).  Nor did William the Conqueror land at Hastings; his ships touched land about 10 miles to the west at a spot known to history as Pevensey and to locals as Normans Bay (there’s even a train stop).

William had quickly assembled a great fleet, since he only started planning the invasion that very year.  Mostly built for transport (unlike the great warships of the Vikings),  they were single masted open boats with a sail and many were attached to smaller boats.  Wace numbers the fleet at 696, though others state he brought over 3000; the larger number possibly included all sized crafts.  Sir Charles Oman estimated that the Norman force numbered 12,000-14,000, though others estimated as many as 60,000.  It’s probably safer to stay with the lower number, considering the size of the battlefield.

William had planned to invade England months earlier; in August of that year, the Norman ships had gathered at the mouth of the river Dive.  If he had succeeded in crossing the Channel when he wanted to, Harold would have been on hand to contest his landing, for the King was diligently guarding the southern coast with his Saxon levies.  But the winds were against the invaders and William was delayed a month at Dive, then after an aborted attempt to cross, he spent another couple of weeks up the coast at Saint Valery.

Finally, on the 27th of September, the winds changed and the Normans raced to their ships, although it took all day to load supplies and horses.  Edward A. Freeman paints a picture of celebration while they were preparing: “The ships resounded with music; the pipe, the zittern, the drum, the cymbals, all were heard, and the voice of the trumpet sounded proudly over all.” (Vol. 3, p. 399). When William boarded it was already dark, so he ordered all the ships to put a light on their mast and he placed a huge lantern atop his own Mora to be the guiding star of the fleet.

William’s was one of the few ships that did not carry horses, and this is probably the reason he outstripped the rest of the fleet while crossing the Channel.  When the sun arose the next day, he was stunned to see himself all alone; not another ship was to be seen.  Undaunted, the Duke ordered that they drop anchor and he cheerfully sat down to breakfast, though he encouraged his sailor to climb back up to the mast head and keep watch.  Before long the sailor saw four ships, and soon, “he saw such a multitude that their masts looked like a forest upon the waves.”

William’s luck was with them.  Not only was the crossing almost without incident (two ships were lost, including one that carried a soothsayer who prophesied that England would fall without a blow), they were astounded to discover the long beach deserted.  No Saxon host stood ready to repel the invaders because unbeknownst to William, King Harold had hastened north to defend his country against a totally different threat: the Norwegian King Harald Hardrada.

The battlefield at Battle Abbey (my photo)

As the story goes, Duke William was the first warrior to set foot on land — though his foot slipped out from under him and he fell forward on both hands.  Horrors!  A loud cry went up around him, for his men saw this accident as a terrible omen.  But William kept his wits about him.  Grabbing two fistfuls of sand, he cried out, “By the splendor of God I have taken seizen of my kingdom; the earth of England is in my two hands,” thus transforming bad luck into good fortune and saving the day.

Encouraged, the Normans disembarked in good order, still expecting resistance from the English.  But none was forthcoming and the invaders most likely drew their ships onto the beach.  It is thought a small garrison was left to guard the ships, utilizing the ruins of a Roman fort on the site.  It is possible that the Normans build one of their portable wooden fortresses there, but this is debated. They did not bring many provisions with them, and Pevensey was not the ideal site for foraging.  The Normans probably only spent one day there before moving their force east to Hastings, which was set as William’s permanent camp.  They dug a trench, formed an earthen mound and erected a wooden fortress at their new location.  It was now September 29 and William had plenty of time to set about terrorizing the locals in earnest so as to draw King Harold back to meet him in fateful battle.

Gytha, wife of Godwine

 

Gytha Thorkelsdottir from St Nectan’s Church Source: Wikipedia

Overshadowed by their husbands or subject to their fathers’ ambitions, noble medieval women had to be pretty plucky to carve out a niche in the history books. Still, Gytha Thorkelsdóttir was related to so many famous (and mostly tragic) figures that it is amazing we know so little about her.

Raised in Denmark, she was the sister of Earl Ulf who served Canute as Regent of Denmark before his unfortunate death (reportedly killed by Canute’s order). Her father Thorkel (also known as Torkel, Torgils, or Thorgil) was said to have been the grandson of a bear and a Swedish maiden. Of course, having a bear as an ancestor is only mentioned when referring to a male (like Ulf), but I can only assume that a female of the line would absorb the same characteristics?

Ulf was married to Canute’s sister, which made Gytha part of the royal family. So it may have been a great surprise to Gytha when King Canute married her off to his favorite, Godwine. Probably from a less than stellar background (his father was an out-of-favor Thegn in England), Godwine’s rapid rise to power was destined to make him the most important man in England after the king. But he hadn’t achieved this status yet, though he may have been Earl of Wessex when they married. I doubt whether Gytha was given a choice.

They did have a large family: at least 10, possibly 11 children.  Among their brood was Harold Godwineson (last Saxon King of England), Edith Queen of England (married to Edward the Confessor), and three earls. However, it was her misfortune to outlive at least six of them; she lost three in one day at the Battle of Hastings, for Harold died alongside his brothers Gyrth and Leofwine. And of course this was only two weeks after the death of Tostig at the Battle of Stamfordbridge. How a mother felt seeing two sons face each other as enemies across the battlefield can only be surmised. There was never any indication that she had a falling out with Tostig; in fact, it is rumored that he visited her on the way out of the country when forced into exile. 

It was written that Gytha petitioned William the Conqueror to let her take Harold’s body after Hastings and even offered to pay him its weight in gold. But William refused, fearing the Saxons would turn Harold’s burial site into a shrine. However, local legend at Bosham declares that the unidentified bones beneath the floor of Holy Trinity Church belong to Harold who was secretly buried there after the fact. The estates around Bosham were confiscated by William the Conqueror, and if he did take pity and let Gytha bring the body there, it would have been possible to keep the event a secret. Regardless, she had to leave her home in Bosham and it was probable that Gytha went to live in Exeter.

Exeter became a focal point of local rebellion, led by her Gytha and her three grandsons Godwine, Edmund, and Magnus (Harold’s sons); King William took the threat seriously enough to lay siege to the city for 18 days in the winter of 1068. As usual, William overcame their resistance and Exeter capitulated, while Gytha, accompanied by her allies, fled to the island of Flat Holm in the Bristol channel. There she stayed for many months while waiting for her grandsons to return, aided by King Diarmaid of Leinster. Unfortunately, their last invasion was a disaster and, conceding defeat, they all left England for good and traveled to Flanders. She may have entered a convent at St. Omer. Or she might have gone back to Scandinavia, where the presiding King of Denmark was her nephew. It is thought that Gytha died four years later.

Who was Eadric Streona?

The death of Edmund Ironside Cambridge University Library MS Ee.3.59, f. 5

In the days of Edmund Ironside, the name Eadric Streona keeps popping up at the most critical moments… and not in a happy way.  It seems that this slippery Mercian Earl must have had incredible powers of persuasion, because he kept turning up no matter how often he changed sides.  No one seemed to know whether he was working as a spy for Canute or as an advisor to Edmund, and no one seemed to understand why the Saxon King could trust him. Where did this man come from?

Streona was not the last name of Eadric of Mercia; rather, it was a nickname which roughly translates to “the Acquisitor”.  He became Earl of Mercia in 1007, apparently as a result of murder, or rather, doing King Aethelred’s dirty work while acquiring the lands of tax defaulters.  He married the king’s daughter Eadgyth in 1009, which made him brother-in-law to Edmund Ironside.

In 1015, Eadric procured the murder of Siferth and Morcar, two leading thegns in the Danelaw.  We can assume that he did this for Aethelred, since the King benefited from confiscating their estates; he also ordered the arrest of Siferth’s widow.  Following this episode, Edmund (not yet Ironside), in defiance of his father, carried off the widow and made her his wife.  So Edmund became lord of the so-called Five Boroughs in the East Midlands, while Canute was hostile to the Danelaw at the time. At first, Eadric helped Edmund raise troops to fight Canute, but since Edmund had just married the widow of the thegn Eadric had murdered, Streona was soon plotting to betray him. Within four months after Canute’s arrival in England, Eadric had sworn homage to the Danish chief along with forty Mercian ships.

In 1016, Aethelred the Unready died and Edmund the Aetheling was immediately elected King by the citizens of London. Unfortunately for him, Canute was elected King by the Witan in Southampton, thus causing a dilemma that wreaked havoc for the next seven months. London bravely withstood three sieges by Canute, and King Edmund did his best to draw the Danes away from the city. Eadric was present at every major battle, first on one side then the other.

His first infamy was at the Battle of Sherstone, fought on the border of Wessex and Mercia.  Eadric sided with Canute, and on the second day he smote off the head of a warrior who looked like Edmund Ironside and held it up to the King’s army, shouting that the King was slain. The English wavered, about to take flight when Edmund tore off his own helmet, exclaimed that he lived and threw a spear at the traitor.  Unfortunately, the spear missed Eadric and skewered someone next to him. The King’s army rallied but the day ended in a draw.

The Danes went back to their ships, but Eadric returned to his brother-in-law and swore fealty to him. No one knows why, but Edmund took the Mercian Earl back into his favor. The King levied a new army and closely pressed the Danes who were on the run, but Eadric was said to have contrived to detain Edmund long enough for the Danes to recover.  Then, at the battle of Assandun, in charge of his own troops, Eadric suddenly turned tail and fled from the field, causing great slaughter.

Illustration for the Historical Scrap Book (Cassel, c 1880).

For some reason, Eadric was still in King Edmund’s confidence, and after the defeat of Assandun managed to persuade the King to meet Canute in person.  The two kings met on an island in the Severn and ultimately agreed to divide England between them, with the understanding that each King was the other’s heir.  Poor Edmund did not survive the year; although no accusation of foul play was agreed upon by chroniclers, it was thought by many that Eadric quietly did away with Edmund Ironside. A nasty rumor survived that Eadric climbed into the King’s garderobe and skewered him from below, though I suspect that was vicious rumor. 

From Canute’s point of view, Eadric Streona, had outlived his usefulness.  Although he had retained his Earldom of Mercia, Eadric is said to have expected more rewards and upbraided Canute for his lack of appreciation. Some went so far as to state that Eadric claimed he killed Edmund for Canute, but again I suspect this is poetic license. Regardless, it is certain that Canute had him killed at the Christmas Gemot.  My favorite story is that he had Earl Eric cut off his head and throw it out the window into the Thames.  How very appropriate!

Robert Curthose, son of William the Conqueror

Tomb of Robert Curthose from Gloucester Cathedral

When we study the succession of post-conquest English kings, we often forget that England might not be their primary interest.  This may be the reason that William the Conqueror groomed his eldest son to inherit the Dukedom of Normandy and gave the English crown to a younger brother. Or was it because Robert, surnamed Curthose was a bit of a wastrel and couldn’t be depended on to manage his tempestuous new conquest?

Robert does not present a very appealing picture. He is described as short and fat with a heavy face, but at the same time it is said he was a powerful warrior, generous and bold and likeable. However, as in the case of Henry II and his eldest son Henry the Young King, poor Robert was given Normandy as his inheritance, but not allowed to rule or even receive any revenue with which to pay his followers.  Nor did William share any of the spoils of his new kingdom of England with his eldest son. William expected him to be content with an empty title and bide his time until William was ready to die.

Robert had other ideas and bitterly reproached his father, to no avail. Finally, frustrated, impoverished, he surrounded himself with his friends who were also sons of nobles and wandered hither and yon; he invoked aid from William’s tempestuous underlords and waged rebellion against his father. There is no doubt that he was also helped by the King of France, who was always ready to wreak havoc with William.  Finally, the French King permitted Robert to occupy the castle of Gerberol on the borders of Normandy and France, and William had to take a firm stand against his errant son. Laying siege to the castle in 1079, William received his first ever wound, unluckily by the hand of his own son.  At the same moment, an arrow killed William’s horse and he fell to the ground, expecting to receive the final death blow; lucky for him William was saved by a loyal Englishman who gave up his own life. In the fighting that followed, even William Rufus was wounded defending his father, and the Conqueror retreated, leaving the victory to his rebellious son.

Robert Curthose asking his father for Forgiveness, drawing from Cassell’s History of England

Humiliated, William retreated to Rouen and the rebellious Robert, perhaps in remorse, took his followers and passed over to Flanders. Although William was incensed, he listened to the arguments of the nobles in Normandy, many of whom were fathers of Robert’s companions. They urged him to reconcile and he eventually agreed, receiving his son and friends and renewing the succession, as before.

When William the Conqueror died in 1087, Robert and William II made an agreement to be each other’s heir, but this arrangement was short-lived and the wily Norman barons sought to get rid of the stronger brother (the King of England) in favor of the weaker brother they thought they could control.  In the following year, the rebel Barons fortified their castles in England. Led by William the Conqueror’s elder half-brothers Odo of Bayeux and Robert Count of Mortain, they marched against William Rufus in the expectation that Robert would bring supporters from Normandy and join their forces.  Alas for them, bad weather forced Robert back across the channel and the rebellion collapsed.

In 1096, Robert went on Crusade, not to return until five years later – too late to stop his younger brother Henry from taking the crown of England on the death of William II.  He led an invasion that came to nothing, and eventually annoyed Henry so much that the new King of England invaded Normandy instead, capturing Robert in 1106 and imprisoning him for the rest of his life.  Robert lived in captivity another 28 years and died in  his early 80s.