Death of Alfred Aetheling

Emma and sons Alfred & Edward from 13th c. Life of King Edward the Confessor by Matthew Paris

When Queen Emma (widow of Aethelred the Unready) married Canute around 1017, they agreed that the sons from their own marriage would take precedence over any previous children. Things didn’t entirely work out that way, but for the duration of Canute’s reign, her first two sons, Edward and Alfred, remained exiles in her native Normandy.

The second son Alfred’s story is a pitiful one, though it has come down to us full of contradictions. The part we are certain of tells us that during the reign of Harold Harefoot, while Emma lived at Winchester, Alfred landed on the Kentish coast with a band of followers. On orders of the King he was seized, his followers either killed or sold into slavery, and Alfred had his eyes put out, soon dying of his wounds. What we don’t know was why he came to England in the first place, and who exactly was responsible for the dastardly deed, looked upon with disgust even by the Anglo-Saxons hardened to such violence.

One of the rumors was that Emma, discouraged by the non-appearance of Harthacnut, sent a letter to Edward and Alfred encouraging them to invade England and claim the crown. Others conjectured they were testing invasion plans on their own volition. Some say King Harold forged a letter in their mother’s name, intending to lure them to their deaths. Still others said that her sons were simply paying her a visit.

It was said that Edward landed with 40 ships at Southampton and Alfred landed at Dover; the Norman account numbered Alfred’s followers at 600, though other accounts said he came with less than a dozen friends. It has even been stated that Edward fought a battle and defeated the English with great slaughter (considering Edward’s later peaceable reign, I tend to doubt this). However, on hearing of Alfred’s fate, Edward made a hasty retreat back to the safety of Normandy.

It seems relatively certain that Alfred’s capture came as a surprise, and Earl Godwine of Wessex has invariably been linked with his arrest. It is alleged that Godwine wined and dined Alfred, lodged his men throughout the town, then in the middle of the night, either Godwine’s men or Harold’s men raided the town, capturing, torturing and killing the Aetheling’s companions. Whether Godwine followed direct orders from King Harold or whether he acted on his own recognizance is total conjecture. Or he simply might have stepped aside and refrained from interfering with the King’s business.

Death of Earl Godwine: Joseph Strutt from Kings and Queens of Britain

Did Godwine turn the Aetheling over to Harold’s soldiers, or was he personally responsible for taking Alfred to the island of Ely and blinding him? Nobody really knows, but Godwine was blamed by many of  his contemporaries. Even though he later cleared himself in court, he was never able to rid himself of the stigma attached to the murder. In any event, the brutal circumstances gave Godwine’s enemies a great deal of ammunition to fling at him. Even at the end of his life, the legend persists that during a feast, Godwine made an oath to Edward that he should choke on a piece of bread if he was responsible for Alfred’s death. Then suddenly, the great Earl was taken with a seizure and collapsed at the table, thus confirming his guilt for all eternity. Do I believe this? Absolutely not!

 

Who was Harthacnut?

Soon after Canute gained the throne of England, he invited Aethelred’s widow Emma of Normandy to be his queen.  Emma agreed, on the condition that only the sons born of their union would be next in line to the throne.  This meant that two of his sons and two of her sons from previous marriages would be put aside.

And so Canute and Emma’s child Harthacnut was born in 1017. It seems ironic to me that the young heir Harthacnut was sent to Denmark when he was eight years old, under the regency of Canute’s brother-in-law Jarl Ulf, to help strengthen Canute’s hold on the country. Why would England’s heir be raised in Denmark? But that’s how it went, and in Denmark he stayed, eventually ruling in  his own right. When Canute died unexpectedly in 1035, his firstborn son Harold Harefoot (through his handfasted wife Aelfgifu of Northampton) was resident in England, and heir Harthacnut had his hands full in Denmark and did not dare leave the country.

The matter went before the Witan. Earl Godwine and Wessex were in favor of Harthacnut, and the North favored Harold Harefoot, their native son.  The Witan ruled, at least short-term, to divide the country and appoint Harthacnut King in the south, and Harold King north of the Thames.  Apparently Emma acted as regent for Harthacut, and sent her son increasingly insistent messages to come and claim his kingdom.

Unfortunately, Harthacnut could not get away, and by 1037 Harold Harefoot claimed the whole kingdom, causing Emma to flee to Bruges in Flanders; she blamed Earl Godwine for failing to uphold her son’s claim.  There she awaited the arrival of Harthacnut who sailed to join her in 1039 with 10 ships, preparing to invade England. As it turned out, the invasion was not necessary because they heard word that Harold was ailing. Indeed, the king died a few months later, and Harthacnut sailed to England with 62 warships to claim his kingdom.

Actually, the transition was peaceful and Harthacnut managed to raise a Danegeld of 21,000 pounds to pay his mercenaries off, just like Canute had done in 1017.  His first official act on taking the throne was to order the body of his brother, Harold Harefoot, disinterred and thrown into the Thames. That certainly set the stage for his short reign!

Harthacnut ruled by intimidation, harrying the population when they objected to his harsh taxation to pay for a large fleet he felt necessary to keep the populace under control.

Harthacnut had health problems of his own; in 1041 he invited his half-brother Edward (the Confessor) to live in England, and may have made Edward his heir.  And not too soon!  In June of 1042, during a wedding feast as he was toasting the bride, Harthacnut went into convulsions and died shortly thereafter, unmourned by all but his mother.

Hence ended the brief reign of the Danes. If Svegn Forkbeard, Canute and his sons weren’t so short-lived, things might have turned out differently for Anglo-Saxon England.

 

Who was Harold Harefoot?

After Canute’s untimely death in 1035, Queen Emma, backed by the powerful Earl Godwine of Wessex, strongly supported her son Harthacnut’s claim to the English throne. Unfortunately, Harthacnut’s position in Denmark at that moment was very insecure, and much though he would have loved to claim the crown of England, he just couldn’t get away.

Enter his elder half-brother Harold, son of Aelfgifu of Northampton, nicknamed Harefoot. First of all, Harold was living in the country; it is thought that Earl Godwine’s rival Earl Leofric of Mercia had given him shelter for many years. Secondly, the Northerners saw him as one of their own, and favored him over Harthacnut, who had been in Denmark since he was six. Since Anglo-Saxon England used the Witan to elect the next sovereign, the previous king’s candidate did not necessarily follow.

Earl Godwine campaigned hard for Harthacnut, but in the end only won the support of his own Wessex. The Witan decided once again to split the kingship into two and declared that Harold Harefoot would be king of all England except Wessex, and that Godwine and Emma would act as regents over Wessex for Harthacnut.

This uncomfortable situation did not last very long, and within two years Harold was declared king of all England.  He called on Queen Emma, installed at Winchester, and despoiled her of all Canute’s treasures; soon she fled to Flanders, where she awaited the return of Harthacnut.  Earl Godwine accepted the inevitable and swore fealty to King Harold I, but was never really in favor; in 1036 Godwine became the scapegoat for Alfred Aetheling’s capture and murder during the exile’s ill-fated invasion of England (more on that later).

We know of little else about Harold Harefoot’s reign. In 1040 he died of an undisclosed illness at Oxford and was buried at Winchester. This saved England the indignity of yet another invasion which was in the process of being arranged by Harthacnut.

Heirs to the Throne after Canute

Source: Wikipedia

King Canute died suddenly in 1035 at around 40 years of age. His reign had been surprisingly peaceful and successful, and at least he could be comforted by the knowledge that he left behind two grown sons to succeed him.

Of course, things were a little messy. His eldest son Svein and second son Harold (nicknamed Harefoot) were borne by Canute’s mistress, or more probably pagan wife Aelfgifu of Northampton. Canute married Aelfgifu in 1013 when his father conquered England, probably to ensure the loyalty of the Northerners in the Danelaw. First son Svein was destined to be king of Norway and was never mentioned in relationship to the English crown. Harold on the other hand, born in 1015 or so, looked to be a likely candidate for King of England…that is, until Emma of Normandy came into the picture.

In the transitional period after Swegn Forkbeard died and King Aelthelred was recalled, Aelfgifu and child were transported to Denmark with the dead king’s body. It was there that she gave birth to Harold Harefoot, and she may have stayed there for safekeeping. For soon after Canute gained the throne, he invited Aethelred’s widow Emma of Normandy to be his queen. And Emma agreed, on the condition that only the sons born of their union would be next in line to the throne. This means that Canute’s two sons as well as her own sons Alfred and Edward would be put aside. Also, Canute put aside his first wife, which apparently didn’t cause any problem with anybody (except, I assume, the woman in question). Emma gave birth to their son Harthacnut in 1017.

I’ll go into more detail in a future post, but to sum it up, on Canute’s death there were many heirs:
1. Harthacnut, son of Canute and Emma
2. Harold Harefoot, son of Canute and Aelfgifu

and let’s not forget the old House of Wessex:
3. Alfred, son of Aethelred and Emma
4. Edward, son of Aethelred and Emma
5. Edward the Exile, son of Edmund Ironside and Ealdgyth (not recalled until 1056)

Things did not go as planned and it turned out that Harold Harefoot became the next king, continuing the Danish line. It is ironic that none of Canute’s sons had children of their own, and all of them died young. For better or worse, as they say…

 

When England lived under Danish rule

Combat between Canute the Dane and Edmund Ironside, Matthew Paris, Chronica Maiora, Cambridge, Corpus Chrisit, 26, f. 160  Source: Wikipedia

The year 2016 marked the 1000th anniversary of Canute’s coronation as the King of England. I think it’s interesting that even though the Danes ruled all of England for more than a generation, very few moderns seem to give it any thought at all. Between Canute and his sons, the Danes were kings from 1016 through 1042, yet we still think of England as Anglo-Saxon during that era.

Of course, the Vikings were no strangers to England. During the reign of Alfred the Great, the Danes overran the country and would have conquered but for the dogged resistance of the King of Wessex. In the end, Alfred the Great divided the country in half, and the Northmen settled and ruled the Danelaw  for the next 200 years. By the time Canute’s father, Swegn Forkbeard took the crown in 1013, England’s Aethelred the Unready had made such a mess of things that the country was beginning to think that Danish rule might be preferable after all.  Not that they had much choice.

Swegn Forkbeard died suddenly in 1013, having ruled for only a few months. Aethelred’s son Edmund Ironside had a brief tenure as king, constantly harassed by the Danes under Canute, who was the second son of Swegn (his older brother Harald ruled Denmark until 1018). Ultimately, Edmund Ironside and Canute agreed to divide the country so that Edmund would rule Wessex and Canute the rest of England; if one died, the crown would devolve to the survivor.  Alas, the end result was all too predictable.

Canute and Emma from Liber Vitae, 1031, Stowe Ms 944, folio 6, British Library

It was conjectured that Edmund Ironside may have been murdered by the villanous Eadric Streona who seemed to change sides like most people change their clothes.  But whether by foul means or natural causes, Edmund did not survive his first winter as King.  Canute took over in 1016 and at first things didn’t look good for the Anglo-Saxons. Some key english Thegns were assassinated (including Eadric Streona) and Viking Jarls installed in their places. Canute proceeded to raise the largest Danegeld tax yet (£82,500) to pay off the Viking ships, but luckily he sent most of the army home afterwards. From then on, England was not considered fair game (except for the occasional raid) until the unhappy events of 1066.

Historians often voice their surprise that Canute decided to settle down and adopt the ways of his conquered people, in direct contrast to William the Norman. I think it could be fairly said that the Danes were absorbed by the Anglo-Saxons through intermarriage and common economic concerns. Although Canute had difficulty juggling his Empire of Denmark, England, Norway and part of Sweden, he made England his home.  He presided over 20 years of peace and prosperity, and by the end of his reign, Canute was known as a good and just king.  Had he not died young – only about 40 years old – England might have stayed Danish considerably longer.

 

The Great Harrying of the North, 1069

Harrying of the North by Patrick Nicolle

After the trauma of Stamford Bridge, the northerners were remarkably absent (though expected) at the battle of Hastings.  To say the warriors were exhausted would surely be an understatement, but I wonder, also, if they thought events on the southern coast of England were just too far away to concern them.  After all, the populace was predominately Norse in origin, and many did not even speak a common language with the southerners.

And indeed, after Hastings maybe it seemed like life could go on as before.  William the Conqueror was certainly busy putting down any resistance in the south, and aside from a change in leadership not much happened for two years.  But peace wasn’t meant to be.  York and Durham were just too important to be ignored, and in 1068 Eadgar Aetheling, the last surviving heir to the Saxon crown, made his bid for the throne. He was joined by Edwin, Earl of Mercia, Morcar, former Earl of Northumbria, and Cospatric, current Earl of Northumbria who purchased the earldom from William. King William was quick to respond, and the rebellion was crushed immediately.

Eadgar Aetheling fled to Scotland with his family, and Malcolm III, King of the Scots eventually married his sister Margaret.  Given support from his new brother-in-law, Eadgar returned to England in response to a new Northumbrian uprising in early 1069. In January, Northumbrian rebels converged on Durham, killing William’s new appointee Robert de Comines and all but two of the Normans in the garrison.  Drunk with success, the combined forces continued south and captured York.

There’s a lot of disagreement as to the sequence of events, but ultimately much of York was burned to the ground and the Norman garrison destroyed. Eadgar Aetheling and his supporters joined a large fleet led by the sons of Svein Estrithson, King of Denmark; the Danes were apparently welcomed in the north and became a focus for more revolts in Dorset and Somerset.  Unfortunately for Eadgar, his army was an unruly force and he was more of a figurehead than a leader, so no attempt was made to force his claim or even declare Northumbria’s independence.

King William immediately marched north, causing the Danes to withdraw before him, and made his way to York, devastating the countryside in his path.  By Christmas 1069, he entered the ruined city and celebrated the Nativity in what was left of the cathedral.


What transpired next was on a scale so devastating that even contemporaries, not unused to a scorched earth policy, were shocked.  Deciding to make an example of Yorkshire, William systematically plundered, burned and murdered every living creature between York and Durham. It was said that the bodies of inhabitants lay scattered across the countryside, unburied and rotting, and that starving exiles made their way south, either to die on the road or to sell themselves into slavery for food.  Ten years later, there wasn’t a single inhabited town between York and Durham.

According to Orderic Vitalis, more than 100,000 perished of hunger that year. There were reports of cannibalism, and it was said that William salted the earth to destroy its productivity. This may or may not be true, but even 17 years later, the Domesday book is noted with page after page of the word “waste”, and it is estimated that in 1086 only 25% of the original population lived in Yorkshire.

Eadgar Aetheling fled to refuge in Scotland, and once again the Danes were paid off, just like in the days of Aethelred. King William burnt his way west to Chester before deciding that he had made his point, and spent Easter of 1070 in Winchester, convinced that there would be no more rebellion in Northumbria.  And indeed he was right.  He had bought peace at the cost of much future revenue – not to mention his reputation.

 

What was the Tanist Succession?

The Tanist (or Tannist) is an interesting concept, and not much has been written about it.  In its simplest terms, a Tanist was a royal successor.  Tanistry seems to be Celtic in origin, and appears to have been imported into Scotland from Ireland in the fifth century.  In the earliest days, the Tanist was not necessarily directly related to the king, or even the same branch of the royal family; however they would share a common ancestor.  In fact, during the early middle ages, the King was elected by the noble princely families, and the Tanist was elected as well.  It was a lifetime post.

In theory, the Tanist would have been an ambitious and capable successor, “without blemish”, able to take on the rulership in a time when a chieftain’s life expectancy often did not allow for his sons to achieve manhood.  The Tanist Succession would encourage rotation between branches of a family, and was considered a fair way to keep balance. However, more often than not, it led to dynastic infighting.

Malcolm II, in 1005, was the first Scottish monarch to introduce hereditary monarchy and female-line succession at the same time, since his heir, Duncan II, was descended from his eldest daughter.  This innovation caused great conflict and he had to spend many years clearing the way to the throne for his grandson.

In fact, Grouch (known as Lady Macbeth) was descended from the rightful King Kenenth III, who was killed by Malcolm II.  Then Grouch’s father, Boede, recognized as the logical Tanist of his branch, was also killed by Malcolm II.  In 1032 Grouch’s first husband Gillecomgain was killed by Malcolm II in an attempt to get rid of her, but she was elsewhere when her husband and 50 men were burnt to death in his fortress.  No wonder Lady Macbeth urged her second husband to kill Duncan!

So the concepts of Tanist Succession and Patrilinear Succession bumped into each other and wreaked havoc for centuries until Tanistry was abolished by James I (James VI of Scotland).  The system lingered in a diminished form in Ireland until the mid-19th century.

Duncan was not killed in his bed by Macbeth

Lady Macbeth and Duncan by George Cattermole; Wikipedia

Shakespeare told some great stories, but historians will agree that real history often gets buried beneath the great Bard’s verses.  The death of King Duncan was one of those exaggerations. For anybody who hasn’t read or seen Macbeth, in essence he meets three witches on the heath who plant the suggestion in his mind that he will be king.  The best way to achieve this is to treacherously kill King Duncan in his bed (as Lady Macbeth goads him on), put the blame elsewhere and seize the throne. Righteous countrymen attack his castle in the end and restore the throne to Duncan’s heir.

Just for the record, when king Malcolm II died in 1034 at age 80, there were many claimants to the throne.  Duncan’s claim was from Malcolm II through his mother’s side (the first of three daughters).  Thorfinn of Orkney,  the great Viking warrior, was Malcolm’s grandson through the third daughter, and was raised under the protection of the King. Malcolm  eventually made him Earl of Caithness (the first time the title of Earl was used in Scotland); this could have been a consolation prize. Macbeth had a claim to the throne through his wife Grouch, who was considered the real heir based on the customary Tanist succession practiced in Scotland; her father’s claim had been put aside by Malcolm II in favor of Duncan.

So  Malcolm II had cleared the way for his favorite grandson, although the 33 year-old Duncan did little to recommend himself to his contemporaries. He fought five wars in five years and lost them all. Ultimately, he made the mistake of trying to claim Caithness which was rightfully ruled by his cousin Thorfinn.  This led to a sea battle where Duncan’s forces were ignominiously thrashed, and the king was forced to flee.

That same year in August, Duncan raised an army including many Irish mercenaries, and met either Thorfinn or Macbeth (or both) in the Battle of Burghead on the Moray Firth. This could be same battle I found reference to, stating that Macbeth killed Duncan at Pitgaveny, which was nearby. It was also recorded elsewhere that Duncan was killed by his own men immediately after the battle. Regardless of who actually killed him, it is clear that Duncan met his end on the battlefield rather than treacherously in bed.  Macbeth was properly elected high king by a council of Scottish leaders, apparently without dissent. In fact, Macbeth ruled for 14 years.  This is a far cry from the grasping, tortured protagonist of Shakespeare’s dark tragedy.

Who was Donald Bane?

Donald Bane of Scotland, by George Jamieson, Source: Wikipedia

For most of us, our first contact with Donald Bane (or Donalbane) comes with the play Macbeth. After poor King Duncan was killed in his bed, his heirs feared assassination and fled the scene; Prince Malcolm slipped away to England and Donald Bane went to Ireland.  And this is the last we see of Donald Bane in the play. Who was he and what happened to him?

There seems to be no historic trail from the death of his father until 1093, when he usurped the throne of Scotland.  It is said that in 1060 he became Mormaer of Gowrie (modern Perthshire), yet it is assumed he lived in the Western Isles and possibly Ireland.  I’ve found reference to his exile there but no explanation, so we are left to fill in the blanks. What we do know is that he aligned himself with the pro-Gaelic party in Scotland, which was in opposition to Malcolm and Margaret’s attempt to suppress the Celtic Church in favor of Catholicism.

It wasn’t until 1093 that Donald Bane made his move. Somehow he knew about Malcolm’s last campaign into Northumbria, because we find that in the King’s absence he laid siege to Edinburgh castle. He knew that Queen Margaret was in residence with her younger sons, and intended to acquire them as hostages. If you’ve ever been to Edinburgh, you know that the castle is perched high on a rugged cliff, so his army would have encamped on the other side.

source: Wikipedia

Assuming the cliff was impassible was his big mistake. As depicted in my novel, HEIR TO A PROPHECY, the ailing Margaret died within minutes of hearing that the king and her eldest son had been slain. Her surviving sons and servants devised a litter and lowered the queen’s body all the way down the cliff, protected by a mysterious white mist.  They ferried Margaret across the river to Dunfermline so she could get a proper burial.

That didn’t stop Donald Bane. According to the ancient tanist system of Scottish inheritance, the younger brother of a king could inherit the throne before the son if matters were so arranged. Donald was the younger brother of Malcolm III, and was duly elected to the empty throne. However, he only reigned initially for six months, until Malcolm’s first son Duncan (by his wife Ingeborg) invaded with an army backed by King William Rufus of England.

Alas for Duncan, his reign only lasted six months. Donald Bane joined forces with Duncan’s half-brother Edmund (son of Margaret) and killed the hapless king, reigning jointly with Edmund in his stead. Donald oversaw the north (Scotia) and Edmund ruled the south (Lothian).  This lasted for three years.

But William Rufus did not condone an anti-Norman king on the Scottish throne. Edgar, probably the second son of Malcolm and Margaret, had taken refuge in the English court, and Rufus sent him north with an army to dethrone Donald Bane in 1097. The victor was crowned and known as Edgar the Peaceable (because of his submission to William Rufus). Apparently the remorseful Edmund was forgiven and later became a monk, thus removing himself from the succession.

Donald Bane was not so lucky.  Edgar threw him into prison at Rescobie in Angus and had his eyes put out for good measure.  Donald died within two years, and was eventually buried at Iona, the last of  his line to rest with the Celtic kings of Scotland.

Malcolm Canmore, ancestor of the Plantagenets

I don’t think it would be too much to say that most lovers of the Middle Ages love to read about the Plantagenets.  They all seem to be as colorful as their namesake, Geoffrey of Anjou, who coined the family name from the broom flower planta genista which he tucked onto his helmet (or his hat).  In fact, the Anjou side of the family gets so much attention that very few people give much thought to the fact that Henry II is descended from Malcolm III through his grandmother on his mother’s side.

Malcolm Canmore and Margaret Aetheling had a passel of children: six sons and two daughters.  One of these daughters, Edith (or Eadgyth, later known as Matilda) was married in 1100 to King Henry I of England when she was about 21 years old (thus uniting the Normans with the old Anglo-Saxon dynasty).   This is the same Edith that Malcolm earlier tried to marry to Alain le Roux.  If you saw  the recent series Pillars of the Earth, it’s hard to forget the scene where Henry I keeled over while eating lampreys.  And so he died, according to historians.

If you remember, Henry I had one son who was killed in the White Ship Disaster of 1120, which sunk in the English Channel drowning 300 people.  His only surviving legitimate child was their daughter Maude, who later married Geoffrey of Anjou.  Although Henry I made his nobles swear to support Maude’s claim to the throne, when he died in 1135 she was actually far away in Anjou, leaving the way open for her cousin Stephen to step in and steal the throne.  And spark the civil war, which lasted approximately 18 years.

Maude’s son, the future King Henry II was only two years old at the time.  He did not get to meet his grandmother who died in 1118, but he was knighted by her brother, his great-uncle David I of Scotland in 1149.  He eventually forced David’s son William the Lion to swear fealty to him, but that was after William joined forces with Henry’s three sons and Eleanor in the Revolt of 1173-1174.  But of course, that’s another story!