General Topics Archives – Page 8 of 13

Who was Wulfnoth Godwineson?

Posted on August 19, 2016 | by Mercedes Rochelle | 3 Comments

*Harold Swears an Oath to William. Source: Wikimedia*

Most of us lament the fate of Harold Godwineson (or Godwinson), last of the Anglo-Saxon kings killed at the Battle of Hastings. But how many know about his younger brother Wulfnoth? Born about 20 years after his famous sibling, Wulfnoth was whisked away as hostage for his father’s good behavior when he was only about 12 years old. In all the confusion surrounding Godwine’s return from exile in 1052, he was probably kidnapped by the Archbishop Robert of Jumièges, who fled from London with the rest of Edward’s Norman allies. Robert turned over Wulfnoth and cousin Hakon to William, claiming (in one version) that King Edward had declared the Norman Duke as his heir, and sent the boys along as guarantee of his pledge. Presumably the Duke did not investigate the validity of this promise. Why should he suspect the word of an Archbishop?

Poor Wulfnoth was in quite a fix. After all, he was the youngest son and hence, expendable. At the time he was abducted, his father was striving to get his position back. Earl Godwine probably didn’t even know his son was missing until after the fact. How culpable was the King? Could Godwine accuse him of betraying his trust? (Wulfnoth was Edward’s hostage, after all.) Not likely. Would Godwine have written to Duke William offering to pay a ransom for his son? Wulfnoth was not likely ever to know, and his father died the next year, which must have seemed like a catastrophe to the lonely youth.

I’ve read some Victorian-era historians who bemoan the innocent prisoner kept under lock and key. But I suspect his confinement was more in the nature of a high-ranking son of a noble, raised in the ducal household to ensure the loyalty of the father. The captive son would be treated like a squire or even a member of the family, provisionally allowed to roam free with the understanding that he would not try to leave. Or at least, I hope this is how Wulfnoth was treated, for he never deserved his fate. I can only suspect the boy was a powerful negotiating tool for the Duke, just in case the opportunity arose. And if King Edward really did offer William the crown, of course he would keep the boy as security. There should have been no reason to put him in a prison cell.

*William the Conqueror. Source: Wikimedia*

When Harold made his fatal oath to support William’s claim to the throne in 1064, once again Wulfnoth had to stay as surety for his promise; it seems that his fellow hostage Hakon was not as important, and William let him go home. Once Harold took the throne, I wonder if William was tempted to kill his hostage? If the Duke was as nasty as he is made out to be, surely one would have expected him to take his revenge. But he didn’t. In fact, Wulfnoth was the Duke’s hostage until the day William died; on his death bed, a repentant William the Conqueror released all his hostages.

Alas, Wulfnoth’s freedom was short-lived. William Rufus is said to have rushed to England to claim his patrimony, taking Wulfnoth with him. Having a Godwineson on the loose was too risky for the Norman heir; the last thing Rufus needed was a new rebellion with a puppet figurehead. Of course by then, Wulfnoth had been a captive so many years he had no friends in England, no property, nor any family left; they had all fled the country and his sister Queen Editha had died in 1075. So he wasn’t much of a threat, and the new king was content to confine Wulfnoth to Winchester, where he may have become a monk at the cloister. He died in the year 1094.

It’s interesting to me that the least dramatic and least talked-about Son of Godwine is the only one to have survived the events of 1066. In my world of historical fiction, this gave him the opportunity to compile the remembrances of his brothers and finish the chronicle begun by his sister Editha. In her words: I preserved my real story, and intend to pass it on to my last surviving brother Wulfnoth, who can prepare it for a future chronicler not hostile to our house. Who is that chronicler? Myself, of course! You can read all about it in FATAL RIVALRY.

Who Promised Duke William the Crown?

Posted on August 8, 2016 | by Mercedes Rochelle | Leave a Comment

That is one of the most debated questions in Pre-Conquest history, with no answer in sight. Was William’s claim to the English throne the result of wishful thinking? Was he promised the crown directly by King Edward, or was the offer presented by a third party? Did Harold Godwineson even know about William’s designs on the throne when he made his fateful visit to Normandy in 1064?

Let’s start with William’s pedigree. Richard I, Duke of Normandy was Queen Emma’s father; this made him the grandfather of Edward the Confessor. Richard I was also the great-grandfather of Duke William. So there was a distant kinship between Edward and William, though one generation apart.

When Edward the Confessor left Normandy in 1041, William was only 13 years old and Edward was 38. With that age gap, it seems unlikely that the two of them would have developed a close relationship, so any alleged gratitude Edward might have owed probably belonged to William’s father Robert, dead by 1035.

*Attack on Dover, llustration by Edouard Zier from a History of England, 1903*

By 1052, when William supposedly traveled to England while Earl Godwine was in exile, Edward’s alleged gratitude may have cooled somewhat. It’s hard to say. William’s visit to England is by no means certain; some historians thought he would have been too busy putting down rebellions to leave his country even for a short time. If he did visit England, it is claimed that Edward offered him the crown at this point. Still, given the king’s knowledge that it was up to the Witan to decide the succession, it’s curious why he would have done so. However, considering his antagonism toward the Godwines (he put the queen in a nunnery while Godwine was in exile), perhaps he did it out of spite. Perhaps he knew there would never be children from his own marriage (was Edward celibate? Another unanswered question).

There is another scenario concerning Robert of Jumièges, former Archbishop of Canterbury and arch-enemy of Earl Godwine. Robert is one of the Normans who fled from London once it was clear that Godwine was back in control. It is probable that he kidnapped the hostages, Godwine’s son Wulfnoth and grandson Hakon, and brought them to Normandy. In this interpretation, Jumièges might have been acting on his own when he told William that Edward was declaring him heir to the English throne, and here are the hostages to guarantee his promise—hostages agreed to by Godwine and the other great earls. I don’t see how Godwine would have agreed to this, since he didn’t even know about it! So my interpretation is that Archbishop Robert concocted this pledge as an effective revenge on Godwine and all of England for kicking him out. And this is the scenario I develop in THE SONS OF GODWINE.

If this is the case, it’s very possible that Harold Godwineson had no idea William was harboring thoughts for the crown when he visited Normandy in 1064. Again, historians don’t even agree to his motives for going. Some believe—and the Normans contend—that Edward sent Harold across the Channel to confirm his pledge of the crown. Personally, I think Harold would have been unwilling to discharge this errand (depending on whether or not he harbored his own designs on the crown). If Harold had gone to Normandy to reaffirm Edward’s promise, why would William feel the need to make him swear an oath?

Some say that Harold was on a fishing trip and got blown across the Channel by a storm. This is possible, but the theory doesn’t find much favor. I read a suggestion that Harold went to Normandy to scope out possible support concerning his own bid for the throne. But I think this might have been a little premature; after all, Edward was in perfectly good health and Eadgar Aetheling, though young, was a direct descendant of Edmund Ironside. Another reason Harold might have crossed to Normandy would be an attempt to free his little brother who had been hostage for 12 years by then. If Robert of Jumièges made the whole succession promise up, it’s possible that Harold unwittingly put himself at William’s mercy. I doubt whether he would have gone if he had known about William’s aspirations. But at least he was forewarned when the time came!

The Fall of Edwin and Morcar, Ill-fated Earls

Posted on June 30, 2016 | by Mercedes Rochelle | Leave a Comment

*Duke Robert Curthose with his army by Joseph Martin Kronheim, 1868 Source: Wikipedia*

One can only imagine the chaos at the end of October, 1066. But it’s apparent the English weren’t ready to accept William as their king just because he won the Battle of Hastings. As soon as word spread of the terrible battle, men started gathering at London—so many men that an assembly was called to elect a new king. It was said that Edwin and Morcar, heirs to Leofric of Mercia, immediately put themselves forward—one or the other—as candidates. However, they could not muster any support, so instead they agreed to endorse Eadgar Aetheling, the last direct descendant of a reigning English king.

As everyone knew, poor Eadgar had no experience in government and little influence due to his youth and foreignness; he had grown up in Hungary. He needed some leadership to prop him up, but it seems that Edwin and Morcar had a change of heart, for it is said they withdrew with their troops back to Northumbria. When William approached London, ravaging the country as he passed, all resistance collapsed and Eadgar was dropped like a proverbial “hot potato”.

Edwin and Morcar were not present at William’s coronation, but they soon presented themselves to the new king at Barking, just outside the city, along with other missing chieftains. William received their submission, and for the moment Northumbria was left undisturbed. Edwin and Morcar accompanied the king on his visit back to Normandy in 1067, presumably as hostages along with earl Waltheof (son of Earl Siward), Eadgar Aetheling, Archbishop Stigand, and other Englishmen who could be considered dangerous if left to their own devices. Well over a year passed thus, with the northern earls held in uneasy captivity while the Northumbrians collaborated back at home, content under their native chieftains. Apparently Edwin won the favor of William, who is said to have offered one of his daughters to the earl in marriage (it may have been a love match), though the king never delivered on his promise. At the same time, William was partitioning off pieces of Mercia for his own followers. These slights antagonized Edwin, and in short order the brothers rose in rebellion, joined by Eadgar Aetheling. They had been present at Matilda’s coronation at Westminster on Easter, 1068, so presumably they must have bolted at the first opportunity.

However, William was at the top of his form and he was soon marching north with a large army, building castles as he went. By the time he got to Warwick, Edwin and Morcar were ready to surrender and York quickly followed, offering William the keys to the city and submitting to a new castle right in their midst. Apparently the two earls remained as William’s “hangers-on” during the next Northumbrian rebellion (after which William built a second castle in York) and the last great revolt (with Eadgar Aetheling and the Danes), for they took no part in the uprisings. For all intents and purposes, their influence in the north was at an end, even though they retained their titles. Did they accompany William during the Harrying of the North? History is silent on this question.

*Hereward fighting Normans, illustration from Cassell’s History of England (1865)*

Finally, in 1071, Edwin and Morcar apparently mustered a last bit of courage (or desperation), for somewhere around April they escaped from William’s court and attempted to raise another rebellion. Historian Marc Morris tells us: “It soon became apparent, however, just how far their fortunes had sunk, for it seems that no one rallied to their cause.” (The Norman Conquest). They wandered around for a while before parting company. Edwin supposedly headed for Scotland, hoping to take refuge with other displaced Englishmen. He never made it; the Norman account tells us that he was betrayed by three of his own men, who turned on him and killed him as he valiantly defended himself against a party of Normans. Another account says he accompanied Morcar to Ely before they parted, but either way it is clear that Edwin met with a violent death. It is said he was mourned by the English and Normans alike, and even William himself cried over Edwin’s severed head, for he was very handsome and courtly and knew how to ingratiate himself.

Morcar, on the other hand, went on to participate in the last uprising of the Fens, led by the valiant Hereward in defense of the Island of Ely. Morcar resisted until the end and escaped with all his limbs intact, but he was William’s prisoner for the rest of the king’s life. When William the Conqueror died in 1087, he released all his prisoners on condition they took an oath not to disturb the peace. But unfortunately for Morcar, William Rufus immediately took him back into confinement—along with Wulfnoth Godwineson. It is thought that Morcar was put into prison, for nothing more is heard of him, and he probably died alone and abandoned.

Many historians along the way have called Edwin and Morcar traitors, and only recent scholarship might have rescued them from this ignominy. The absolute truth, needless to say, is lost in time.

Edwin and Morcar in 1066

Posted on June 7, 2016 | by Mercedes Rochelle | 5 Comments

*Battle of Fulford from The Life of King Edward the Confessor by Matthew Paris Source: Wikimedia*

When Tostig was exiled from England in November, 1065, Earls Edwin and Morcar (or Eadwine and Morkere) must have felt pretty secure in their earldoms. Is it possible they were trying to re-establish a northern entity similar to the Danelaw? Professor Edward A. Freeman seemed to think so, and other historians make the same suggestion. Nonetheless, King Edward’s sudden death must have thrown their plans into some confusion. Like everyone else, Edwin and Morcar would have been at the Christmas Court for the consecration of Westminster Abbey, and they stayed when the king took to his sickbed.

The very day King Edward breathed his last, Harold must have summoned the Witan to choose a successor, since I doubt there would have been time the following morning, with a funeral and coronation to arrange. I can just imagine the state Edward’s court must have been in, with all the running around and jockeying for position. Did anyone have time to mourn the king’s passing? Was Harold’s election in any doubt? Probably not, though it seems that he had to entice Edwin and Morcar to support him; perhaps this is when their sister’s betrothal to the new king came into play. Perhaps they merely bent to necessity, for they had no support in the south and Harold’s star was in the ascendant.

It stands to reason that Northumbria was not fully represented at the Witan electing Harold. What came of this imbalance manifested itself as a passive resistance to Harold’s rule, so much so that within a month the new king was on his way to visit his reluctant earldom with the Bishop of Worcester and a small contingent of housecarls. His conciliatory gesture bore fruit and he is said to have won over the hearts of the stubborn northerners, while flattering them by marring Ealdgyth, sister of Edwin and Morcar, possibly at York Cathedral.

We hear nothing further about the northern earls until Tostig made his move in May. After Harold chased him away from Sandwich, Tostig ravaged the coast of Lindesey in Mercia. Edwin and Morcar were vigilant and soon drove Tostig away, causing his little fleet to disperse. Presumably they spent the rest of the summer guarding the north against invasion—or maybe not. When Harald Hardrada started ravaging the coast of Cleveland and devastated the sturdy town of Scarborough, the local levies had to rely on their own devices to resist the invaders. The Norwegian fleet sailed unopposed into the Humber and dropped anchor near the little town of Riccall on the Ouse, nine miles from York.

Had the sons of Aelfgar been busy raising an army all along? Apparently that’s what they were doing, for Edwin and Morcar chose this time to advance on Hardrada in defense of York with about 5000 men. Later historians have castigated the earls for risking all and not waiting for King Harold to come to their aid. But given the situation, perhaps they thought it was their duty to defend their own territory. They certainly had a formidable army and put up a stout defense at Fulford Gate, only to be defeated by the superior generalship of the battle-hardened Hardrada.

The Battle of Fulford has hardly made a splash in the history books, but its consequences were very significant. Both sides fought long and hard, and it’s estimated that there was a total of 11,000 men on the field. Perhaps 15% of this number was killed, and chroniclers stated that the bodies were so thick the victors could walk across them without getting their feet wet from the swamp. The battle was lost as Harald brought his best fighters around the Northumbrian flank and trapped the defenders against the ditch. Earl Morcar was said to have fled the field and Edwin retreated to York with the broken remains of his army. But York was in no position to defend itself any further and immediately surrendered to the invaders. Luckily, Hardrada and Tostig were not interested in plundering the town, but they arranged for an exchange of hostages four days thence at Stamfordbridge.

*Battle of Stamford Bridge by Peter Nicolai Arbo, 1870, Nordnorsk Kunstmuseum. Source; Wikipedia*

King Harold’s lightning march from the south saved York from further destruction. He did pass through the city on his way to Stamfordbridge, and apparently only the stoutest housecarls joined his forces. Edwin certainly did not, and I believe Morcar was still unaccounted for. And when Harold was called back south to deal with Duke William, the northern earls lagged behind, claiming they needed more time to gather their broken forces. Harold vainly waited in London for their appearance, then resolved to move on and face the Normans without them.

Much has been made of Edwin and Morcar’s failure to help Harold in his time of need—especially since the king just saved their necks while losing many of his most experienced housecarls at Stamfordbridge. Were the northerners just too exhausted, too disabled to undertake a forced march after having just fought two epic battles? Or was it possible that Edwin and Morcar were holding off in the hopes that they might get a better deal from Duke William? Some historians think their subsequent behavior indicated less-than-noble intentions. Many have thought the earls harbored their family’s historic antipathy toward the house of Godwine. It’s very likely that the concept of a united England had not yet come into play, and it’s possible that Edwin and Morcar were pursuing an ambition of a separate northern kingdom, starting with the Northumbrian rebellion against Tostig. If this this the case, they were destined to be sorely undeceived.

Rise of Edwin and Morcar, Ill-fated Earls

Posted on May 11, 2016 | by Mercedes Rochelle | 2 Comments

*Coronation of Harold Godwineson Source: Wikipedia*

If the mid-eleventh century is dominated by any theme, the rivalry between the great houses ranks close to the top. When Edward the Confessor became king, England was dominated by the Three Great Earls: Godwine of Wessex, Leofric of Mercia, and Siward of Northumbria. Edward made it his policy to leverage one (or two) against the other, which usually held him in good stead.

When Godwine died in 1053, Harold stepped into his shoes with hardly a ripple. But once old Siward died in 1055 and Leofric followed in 1057, the balance of power had shifted. Tostig was awarded the earldom of Northumbria and Aelfgar, Leofric’s son, was given Mercia (though he proved much less effective than his father). Gyrth and Lefowine split the earldom of East Anglia. So by 1057, the house of Godwine controlled all of England except Mercia. Poor Aelfgar must have felt himself at a huge disadvantage, which probably goes a long way toward explaining his alliance with Gruffydd ap Llewelyn, Prince of Wales (and thorn in King Edward’s side). But this didn’t last long either, for Aelfgar expired in December 1062. He was survived by two sons, Edwin and Morcar (or Eadwine and Morkere), and a daughter, Ealdgyth, who was married to Gruffydd.

So Edwin became the next Earl of Mercia, though apparently his early years were pretty uneventful. Gryffydd was on the run, and there is no indication that Mercia interfered in Welsh politics at this time. Presumably Edwin took back his sister after the Prince of Wales was killed by Harold Godwineson in 1063 (she is the same Ealdgyth, or Edith, who married Harold around the time he became king). In 1065 he was to become involved in his brother’s unlawful acquisition of Northumbria, with Welsh fighters in tow. Where did they come from?

Tostig’s tenure in Northumbria lasted 10 years, but in October of 1065 his disgruntled thegns rose up in rebellion while the earl was in the south with the king. It was well planned, and Tostig’s 200 housecarls were wiped out before they were able to mount an effective resistance. The rebels broke into the treasury, raided the armory, killed any and all of Tostig’s supporters, then declared a Witan to choose a new earl. This was not a legal procedure, for only the king was entitled to elect an earl. But the Northumbrians were jealous of their privileges and intended to compel King Edward to accept their decision. Morcar was their choice, and apparently he was elected unanimously. He just happened to be within calling distance and quickly swore himself in; needless to say, many historians believe he had secretly agreed to become earl during the planning stages.

Why did the Northumbrians choose an outsider and an inexperienced leader, at that? Perhaps this was the very reason: what better way to control a puppet ruler? Everyone knew that Morcar was the best candidate to antagonize the house of Godwine. But also, the men from Northumberland and the men from Yorkshire (north vs. south in the earldom) didn’t exactly get along; it’s a good possibility that Morcar was a compromise candidate, acceptable to all. Regardless, he took his place at the Witan and proceeded to lead a very disruptive mob south to confront the king. They plundered their way though Tostig’s lands so as to do the most damage to their declared enemy—even taking hundreds of captives.

*Statues of Earl Leofric and Lady Godiva on Coventry City Hall*

Somewhere around Northampton, the rebels paused, though their marauding continued. At this point they were joined by Edwin and a contingent from his earldom, supplemented by a large number of Welsh fighters. This new alliance seemed a little suspicious to many historians. Emma Mason in her “THE HOUSE OF GODWINE” proposed that there might be a connection between Edwin’s Welsh followers and the destruction of Harold’s new hunting lodge in Portskewett a few months before. Could it be that the attackers were on their way to join in Edwin’s “great rebellion that was about to break out”? I find this suggestion to be almost irresistible. Is it possible that Edwin and Morcar were hoping to build a whole new northern state, to bring England back to the days of the Danelaw?

In the end, the Northumbrian rebellion was successful and the rebels forced Harold Godwineson—Edward’s spokesman—to accept their demands. They refused to take Tostig back, and went so far as to insist on his outlawry. The king reluctantly agreed to allow Morcar to remain as Earl, and presumably they went peaceably back home, having satisfied their destructive impulses.

Earls Edwin and Morcar were not destined to enjoy their status for very long. I’ll continue their story in my next blog entry.

Harald Hardrada plans to invade England

Posted on April 5, 2016 | by Mercedes Rochelle | 2 Comments

Window with portrait of Harald in Lerwick Town Hall, Shetland. SOURCE: Wikipedia — Window with portrait of Harald in Lerwick Town Hall, Shetland. *SOURCE: Wikipedia*

Harald Hardrada certainly wreaked havoc with Harold Godwineson’s efforts to protect his new kingdom. I assume King Harold knew there was a threat from the Norse, though historians seem pretty quiet on the subject.

It all started back in Harthacnut’s day. In 1040, the soon-to-be King of England and Magnus I of Norway made a treaty that if one of them died childless, the other would inherit his kingdom (sounds a lot like Canute and Edmund Ironside). When Harthacnut died childless, the Witan decided to elect Edward the Confessor instead, and Magnus threatened to invade and assert his claim. Apparently the English didn’t take the threat too seriously, though Edward is said to have accused his mother Emma of favoring Magnus’s cause. He retaliated by relieving her of Canute’s treasure. Nonetheless, Magnus’s successor, Harald Sigurdsson (Hardrada) must have inherited the treaty as well as the throne, and hence he had a claim to the English crown…not that he needed much of an excuse.

So when King Edward died, Duke William wasn’t Harold Godwineson’s only rival. But by all indications, Hardrada’s invasion plans weren’t taken seriously. Or did Harold know about them at all? One of our titillating questions about 1066 is: when did Hardrada make his plans, and did the vengeful Tostig have anything to do with it?

As the popular story goes, Tostig first went to Sweyn Estridsson’s court in Denmark and tried to talk his cousin into invading England. After all, the Danish King was the grandson of Sweyn Forkbeard, so he was in line to the throne of England. But after 15 hard years of conflict with Harald Hardrada, Sweyn was exhausted and so was his treasury. Disappointed, Tostig went on to Norway and gave Harald such a pep talk that the formidable king was chomping at the proverbial bit. According to Snorri Sturleson in HEIMSKRINGLA, Tostig assured Harald “If you wish to gain possession of England, then I may bring it about that most of the chieftains in England will be on your side and support you.” He added: “All men know that no greater warrior has arisen in the North than you; and it seems strange to me that you have fought fifteen years to gain possession of Denmark and don’t want to have England which is yours for the having.” What self-respecting Norseman could resist that line of reasoning?

*Battle of Stamford Bridge: Cambridge University Library MS. Ee.iii.59*

Snorri has this conversation take place in the winter, which gave Hardrada the spring and summer to raise his army. However, not all historians agree with this scenario. The venerable Edward A. Freeman concluded that there wasn’t enough time for Tostig to make the voyage AND for Hardrada to raise an army. He concluded that Hardrada had planned the campaign on his own and Tostig joined up with him after he made his move. It has also been suggested that Tostig sent Copsig, his right-hand man in his old earldom, as an ambassador to Norway to plan the invasion and didn’t meet Harald in person until later.

Whether Tostig went to Norway in 1066 or not, historians agree that he spent the summer at King Malcolm’s court in Scotland and joined up with Hardrada after Harald dropped off his queen in the Orkneys and came south with the Orkney Earls. Some think Harald stopped at Dunfermline where Malcolm and Tostig waited. William of Malmesbury thought that Tostig joined Hardrada and pledged his support when the Norwegians reached the Humber, which is very late in the story. Regardless, by that point Harald Sigurdsson was clearly in charge of the expedition, and Tostig was his subordinate.

New Release: THE SONS OF GODWINE

Posted on March 10, 2016 | by Mercedes Rochelle | Leave a Comment

Emerging from the long shadow cast by his formidable father, Harold Godwineson showed himself to be a worthy successor to the Earldom of Wessex. In the following twelve years, he became the King’s most trusted advisor, practically taking the reins of government into his own hands. And on Edward the Confessor’s death, Harold Godwineson mounted the throne—the first king of England not of royal blood. Yet Harold was only a man, and his rise in fortune was not blameless. Like any person aspiring to power, he made choices he wasn’t particularly proud of. Unfortunately, those closest to him sometimes paid the price of his fame.

This is a story of Godwine’s family as told from the viewpoint of Harold and his younger brothers. Queen Editha, known for her Vita Ædwardi Regis, originally commissioned a work to memorialize the deeds of her family, but after the Conquest historians tell us she abandoned this project and concentrated on her husband, the less dangerous subject. In THE SONS OF GODWINE and FATAL RIVALRY, I am telling the story as it might have survived had she collected and passed on the memoirs of her tragic brothers.

This book is part two of The Last Great Saxon Earls series. Book one, GODWINE KINGMAKER, depicted the rise and fall of the first Earl of Wessex who came to power under Canute and rose to preeminence at the beginning of Edward the Confessor’s reign. Unfortunately, Godwine’s misguided efforts to champion his eldest son Swegn recoiled on the whole family, contributing to their outlawry and Queen Editha’s disgrace. Their exile only lasted one year and they returned victorious to London, though it was obvious that Harold’s career was just beginning as his father’s journey was coming to an end.

Harold’s siblings were all overshadowed by their famous brother; in their memoirs we see remarks tinged sometimes with admiration, sometimes with skepticism, and in Tostig’s case, with jealousy. We see a Harold who is ambitious, self-assured, sometimes egocentric, imperfect, yet heroic. His own story is all about Harold, but his brothers see things a little differently. Throughout, their observations are purely subjective, and witnessing events through their eyes gives us an insider’s perspective.

Harold was his mother’s favorite, confident enough to rise above petty sibling rivalry but Tostig, next in line, was not so lucky. Harold would have been surprised by Tostig’s vindictiveness, if he had ever given his brother a second thought. And that was the problem. Tostig’s love/hate relationship with Harold would eventually destroy everything they worked for, leaving the country open to foreign conquest. This subplot comes to a crisis in book three of the series, FATAL RIVALRY.

Available NOW on Kindle, and Paperback, and Audible

Calm Before the Danes: Guest Post by Annie Whitehead

Posted on February 7, 2016 | by Mercedes Rochelle | 4 Comments

*Edward Murdered at Corfe by James William Edmund Doyle*

It was 1984. I was in a seminar room in Kentish Town in North London and my tutor, Ann Williams, was talking to us about the 10thc anti-monastic rebellion. Ealdorman Aelfhere, one of the three most powerful noblemen in the country, was the leader of this rebellion, and he was described as the ‘Mad blast’ from Mercia. I wanted to know more about this guy. And I wanted to write his story.

My first novel, To Be a Queen, tells the story of Aethelflaed, daughter of Alfred the Great. She effectively became ruler of what was by then little more than a satellite kingdom of Wessex, but had originally been a powerful kingdom in its own right. Mercia gave us such great and notorious kings as Penda, and Offa. Now it was allied to Wessex, pledged to fighting off the Viking army.

The allies were successful, for a while. Anybody who regularly reads Mercedes’ blog and/or knows a bit about the 11thc will know that it wasn’t long before the Vikings were not only here to stay, but were running the show. Swein, his son Canute, his sons (briefly), and then William of Normandy who was, to all intents and purposes, ethnically a Viking.

But what happened in between? And why was England so ripe for a takeover bid in the 11thc?

The 10thc is not much talked about. It was a bit, well, peaceful. No Vikings, no wars between the kingdoms, no kings with the epithet ‘the great’.

England in AD956 was, for the first time in living memory, free of the Viking threat. Just as well, because there was a bit of a problem. Kings kept dying, young, without offspring. Athelstan (Alfred’s grandson) had done an excellent job of uniting all the English kingdoms and sorting out the Scots and Irish but he’d not done such a great job of finding a wife and having children. When he died in 939 the crown passed to his half-brother, Edmund. He managed to produce two sons, Edwy and Edgar, but he died prematurely and the kingship went to his brother, Eadred. His most notable act was probably seeing off Erik Bloodaxe and restoring the Viking Kingdom of York to English control. Then he died, too.

In AD955 King Edwy, the eldest of the boys born to Edmund, became king. Unfortunately, not a very good, wise, or chaste king. His brother, Edgar, was sent away to be fostered in Mercia and decided, when he was about 14, that he’d quite like a shot at being king. Trouble was, he was only 14, and he needed a bit of help. Like, maybe, from a newly ennobled earl by the name of Aelfhere (or Alvar, as I call him in my novel.) Alvar had received his earldom from King Edwy, and thus had sworn to serve him, but he knew him to be a fornicator and a fool. He was faced with a difficult choice. And so began his career…

I won’t reveal any plot spoilers, but it’s a matter of fact that Edgar died relatively young, although not childless. And this presented a bit of a problem. Because once again, the heirs to the throne were two young boys. This time, however, they were born of different mothers. The eldest boy, Edward, was already famous for having a short temper, and the other was very young.

I have my own theories about how and why the younger son’s temperament developed, but suffice to say he was the youngest of his mother’s four sons. The eldest two were deliberately kept away from her, the third died of a childhood fever. Could she be blamed for being overprotective of her last-born?

This lady, Aelfthryth, whom I’ve called Alfreda, was Edgar’s widow. She was also a consecrated queen and her supporters, Alvar included, felt that her son, having been born ‘in the purple’, was the rightful heir.

Others, including Alvar’s enemies in the Church, thought differently, and crowned Edward.

One night, Edward, he of the famous short temper, went to see Alfreda and her son. There was an argument, then a scuffle. Accounts vary as to what happened next, but the result was that Edward was fatally stabbed. Accusatory fingers pointed right at Alfreda but Alvar managed to quell the disquiet, put an end to the infighting and help to establish the surviving heir as king. It’s just a bit of a shame that the new boy-king’s name was Aethelred. And he did get an epithet, although not ‘the Great’ but ‘the Unready’ (meaning badly-counselled.)

He was not a good king. He was not a wise one. I think he was still a bit of a ‘mummy’s boy’. And somewhere, across the sea, a Danish king knew he could take advantage of this…

Meet Annie Whitehead

Annie Whitehead is a history graduate who now works as an Early Years music teacher. Her first novel, To Be A Queen, was long-listed for the Historical Novel Society’s Indie Book of the Year 2016. Her new release, Alvar the Kingmaker, is available now. She is currently working on the novel which was a prize-winning entry in the Mail on Sunday Novel Writing competition and which she was encouraged by Judge Fay Weldon to complete.

New Release: Alvar the Kingmaker

In 10th Century England,nobleman Alvar knows that securing the throne for the young and worthy King Edgar will brand him as an oath-breaker. As a fighting man, he is indispensable to the new sovereign, but his success and power gain him deadly, murderous enemies amongst those who seek favour with the king. Alvar must fight to protect his lands, and his position, and learn the subtle art of politics. He must also, as a man of principle, keep secret his love for the wife of his trusted deputy. Civil war erupts, and Alvar once again finds himself the only man capable of setting a new king upon the throne of England, an act which comes at great personal cost. His career began with a dishonourable deed to help a good king; now he must be loyal to a new king, Aethelred, whom he knows will be weak, and whose supporters have been accused of regicide. Can he bring about peace, reconcile with his enemies, and find personal happiness, whilst all the time doing his duty to his loved ones? And what of the fragile Queen, who not only depends upon him but has fallen in love with him? Aelfhere (Alvar) of Mercia was known to the chroniclers as the “The blast of the mad wind from the Western territories” but also as “The glorious earl.” This is his story. Available on Amazon.com

FeedARead.com: https://www.feedaread.com/books/Alvar-the-Kingmaker-9781786106889.aspx0

Also by Annie Whitehead: To Be A Queen

One family, two kingdoms, one common enemy …
This is the true story of Aethelflaed, the ‘Lady of the Mercians’, daughter of Alfred the Great. She was the only female leader of an Anglo-Saxon kingdom.
Born into the royal house of Wessex at the height of the Viking wars, she is sent to her aunt in Mercia as a foster-child, only to return home when the Vikings overrun Mercia. In Wessex, she witnesses another Viking attack and this compounds her fear of the enemy.
She falls in love with a Mercian lord but is heartbroken to be given as bride to the ruler of Mercia to seal the alliance between the two Anglo-Saxon kingdoms.
She must learn to subjugate her feelings for her first love, overcome her indifference to her husband and win the hearts of the Mercians who despise her as a foreigner and twice make an attempt on her life.
When her husband falls ill and is incapacitated, she has to learn to rule and lead an army in his stead. Eventually she must fight to save her adopted Mercia from the Vikings and, ultimately, her own brother. Available on Amazon.com

LINKS:

Author Webpage: Casting Light Upon the Shadow

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What is Sac and Soke in Anglo-Saxon England?

Posted on December 7, 2015 | by Mercedes Rochelle | Leave a Comment

Harvesting from 11th Century Anglo-Saxon Calendar

Sac and Soke and their derivitives (socage, sokeman, sake, soc) are found so frequently in so many different contexts, I finally started to question whether I understood them at all. It appears that these terms are more complicated than I first thought.

The basic definition implies a feudal-like tenancy, where the sokeman rendered non-military services to his lord (using soke as related to ploughshare). The sokeman apparently ranked between the free tenant and the bond tenant (or villein). He was a free man within the lord’s soke, or jurisdiction. But it does not stop there. According to Peter Rex in his “HAROLD II” book (p.276), “Then there is the Anglo-Scandinavian institution called a ‘soke‘. This was an estate made up of a main or central village and dependent pieces of property called variously berewicks or sokelands. The tenant of a soke, called a sokeman, held his land by attending the court of his lord, the holder of the soke, and by paying him a money rent and rendering various services of a non-military kind. The sokes were governed by a great body of custom requiring the sokemen to seek the lord’s court, his mill, his sheepfold, his church and so on, to the exclusion of other competing institutions.” Reminds me a lot of the later manorial system.

So apparently, sake and soke had more to do with judgments and fines than mere service owed as a tenant, although service was certainly an integral part of it. A man could possess sac and soke over others of lower rank (but not over himself), and a sokeman was the one who did the owing. Apparently the finer definitions go on and on, and there is plenty of confusion depending on what part of England you are talking about.

If you look up Soke in the Merriam-Webster dictionary the definition is: “The right in Anglo-Saxon and early English law to hold court and administer justice with the franchise to receive certain fees or fines arising from it: jurisdiction over a territory or over people.” The Dictionary of Medieval Terms and Phrases interprets it thus: “Grants of sake and soke allowed the granter to intercept the fines and other profits of justice relating to his own estate which would otherwise have gone to the king.” Do Sac and Soke always go together? Apparently not. The English historian Adolphus Ballard stated that when used alone, soke denoted services. And according to Alexander Mansfield Burrill in his “A law dictionary and glossary”, when mentioned together soc gave the right to constitute a court, and sac gave authority to try cases in it.

In “The Domesday Inquest”, Adolphus Ballard points out that the sake and soc sometimes “varied according to the social position of those from whom it was due”. For instance, in the half-hundred of Diss, “all those who held less than 30 acres…their fines were paid to the officer of the manor…of all those who held 30 acres or more…their fines were payable to the sheriff at the hundred-moot.” Even the forfeitures could be broken up: “The possession of sake and soke did not confer on its owner the right to all forfeitures. The fines for certain offenses—peace-breach, “heinfare” (forcible entry), and “forestel” (assault) were in the King’s demense throughout England and were paid to him alone; the Earl had no share in them.”

Although sac and soke continued into the Anglo-Norman period, it seems to have been eventually supplanted by the feudal system, although knowing the difference sounds like another field of study.

York Before the Conquest: Guest Post by Regan Walker

Posted on October 26, 2015 | by Mercedes Rochelle | 7 Comments

Medieval York is the setting for my new novel, Rogue Knight. Today it is a prominent city in Yorkshire in the North of England. And it was before the Conquest.

Though it has ancient origins, the city was founded by the Romans in 71AD. At one time, there was an old Roman fortress where the Minster is today. When Britain converted to Christianity in the middle of the second century, York became the seat of the archbishopric.

In the seventh century, York was the main city of the Northumbrian King Edwin, but in 866, the Danes captured York and it became the capital of the Danelaw where the laws of the Danes governed from the 9^th into the 11^th century. The growth in York’s size and prosperity beginning with the 10^th century was accompanied by a transformation of the countryside with well-planned villages surrounded by arable open fields. Until the eleventh century, there were virtually no towns in Yorkshire except York. And York was the only town with a mint north of the Humber River until after 1066.

Sweyn of Denmark conquered England in 1013 and was succeeded by his son Cnut the Great who ruled as King of Denmark, England and Norway. He and his progeny effectively ruled England until Edward the Confessor.

While the term “Yorkshire” was not recorded until about 1050, it is thought to have been created around 1000. By at least 1033, King Cnut had appointed Siward as Earl of Northumbria, including a greater Yorkshire, south Lancashire and (from 1041), Durham and Northumberland. In its language and culture, York was Anglo-Scandinavian. Even at the time of the Conquest, almost every street in the city of York had the Old Norse suffix “gata” or “gate” meaning “street” and most of the personal names of the people would have been Scandinavian. Likely Old Norse was spoken in the city, too. (It is in my novel.)

Excavations of the Coppergate area have revealed that York was importing a wide range of goods: Rhenish pottery (probably originally containing wine), honestones (for sharpening) from Scandinavia, clothing pins from Ireland, amber from the Baltic and cowrie shells from the Red Sea or Gulf of Aden. And there was silk, too, probably from Constantinople or Asia. They have even found Islamic coins from Samarkand. It was a city of business and trade. More 10^th and 11^th century weights and balances have been found in York than anywhere else in England.

In 1055, Siward died leaving one son, Waltheof (a character in Rogue Knight). Waltheof would later have a rather amazing life, first as an English earl, then as a rebel in Northumbria in 1069, but when his father died, Waltheof was too young to succeed as Earl of Northumbria, so King Edward appointed Tostig Godwinson to the earldom. And we all know where that led.

In 1066, Harald Hardrada obtained the submission of York after the battle of Fulford Gate. Not only did York provide Hardrada with supplies, they agreed to support him in his conquest of the south. It has been suggested that York was a willing accomplice in Harald’s venture; he might have been preferable to the distrusted Harold Godwinson. An exchange of hostages was arranged, and Hardrada moved on to Stamford Bridge to await their arrival. But it was not meant to be; after a forced march, Harold Godwinson passed through York on his way to Stamford Bridge and forestalled any further commication with the Norwegian King.

Both Tostig and Harald died at the Battle of Stamford Bridge and soon thereafter Harold of Wessex fell to William the Conqueror at the Battle of Hastings. At the time, York was the largest city north of London and an important center of commerce with as many as 15,000 residents, thus it was a city William the Conqueror very much wanted under his control. However, it was not to come to him easily. The people of York did not consider William their king any more than they had the Saxon Harold Godwinson before him. The years following the Conquest would see uprisings in York, one in 1069, led by the Danes with 240 ships. And that story is told in Rogue Knight.

Rogue Knight by Regan Walker

York, England 1069… three years after the Norman Conquest

The North of England seethes with discontent under the heavy hand of William the Conqueror, who unleashes his fury on the rebels who dare to defy him. Amid the ensuing devastation, love blooms in the heart of a gallant Norman knight for a Yorkshire widow.

A LOVE NEITHER CAN DENY, A PASSION NEITHER CAN RESIST

Angry at the cruelty she has witnessed at the Normans’ hands, Emma of York is torn between her loyalty to her noble Danish father, a leader of the rebels, and her growing passion for an honorable French knight.

Loyal to King William, Sir Geoffroi de Tournai has no idea Emma hides a secret that could mean death for him and his fellow knights.

WAR DREW THEM TOGETHER, WAR WOULD TEAR THEM APART

War erupts, tearing asunder the tentative love growing between them, leaving each the enemy of the other. Will Sir Geoffroi, convinced Emma has betrayed him, defy his king to save her?

Links:

Rogue Knight on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Rogue-Knight-Medieval-Warriors-Book-ebook/dp/B014ZCMWZ4
Author website: http://www.reganwalkerauthor.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/regan.walker.104
Pinterest storyboard for Rogue Knight: https://www.pinterest.com/reganwalker123/rogue-knight-by-regan-walker/