with his followers according to his custom. And as they go to the wood
a-hunting, they take in rivalry diverse tracks of the shady paths. And
lo! with the uproar of the horns and the barking of the hounds many
stags took to flight. The king by himself with his pack of hounds chose
one to hunt, and wearied it for a long while through various by-paths by
the swiftness of his horse and the eagerness of his hounds. Now there is
close to Cheddar, among many other features of the steep mountain, a
certain precipice which reaches down to a marvellous and unfathomable
depth. At this the stag arrived in its flight, I know not how, unless by
the hidden will of God, and threw itself headlong down to the depths of
that precipice, together with the hounds that followed, and, dashed in
pieces, they rushed upon death together. So too the king, following stag
and hounds, came up with his horse at the gallop, and the moment he saw
the precipice attempted with all his might to stay the course of his
hurrying steed. But such was the strength and stiffness of its mouth and
neck that he could not. What then? He gave up all hope of life and
commended his soul into the hands of God, saying in his heart, “I thank
thee, O most High, that I do not remember ever, to have injured anyone,
save Dunstan alone, and this I will amend, reconciling myself to him
with ready willingness if my life is spared.” As he spoke, by the merits
of the saint, his horse stopped on the turf at the very edge of the
cliff (I shudder to tell it), when its forefeet were almost about to
dash into the depths of the abyss. Then the king with heart and voice
alike gave thanks and praises to God for that his life was saved,
plainly perceiving, and very often considering in the secrecy of his
heart, that he had been almost doomed to a near death for his attack on
such a man.
When he arrived home, without delay he ordered the blessed Dunstan to be
called to him in great haste. And when he was come the king said to him,
“Get thee a horse ready as swiftly as may be, that thou mayest be able
to go with me whither I am about to go with but small retinue.” And
immediately they mounted and went straight along the road to
Glastonbury. Arrived there, they entered the church of God, as was meet,
to pray. And as soon as their prayers were ended, and the streaming
tears wiped from their eyes, the king again called to him Dunstan the
servant of God, and taking his right hand, for forgiveness, or perhaps
to honour him, kissed it, and leading him to the abbot’s seat, and
placing him therein, said: “Be thou ruler of this seat, and a mighty
occupant, and most faithful abbot of this church; and whatsoever thou
lackest of thine own substance for the increase of Divine worship or to
supplement the sacred rule, that will I gladly supply of the royal
munificence.” And so thereafter Dunstan the servant of God undertook the
above-mentioned office at the king’s command, to rule it, and in the
aforesaid manner, following the healthful rule of St. Benedict, shone
forth as the foremost abbot of the English nation.
EDGAR’S CORONATION (WHITSUN DAY, 973).
=Source.=—_Anonymous Life of St. Oswald_, written between 995 and 1005.
Raine, _Historians of the Church of York_ (Rolls Series), p. 436.
Translated by W.
Then began the holy season in which according to custom there came the
archbishops and all other pre-eminent ecclesiastics and famous abbots
and religious abbesses and all dukes, rulers and judges.... They came
... that the most reverend bishops might bless, anoint, and hallow him,
with Christ’s blessing.... Then commenced the splendour of great
festivity, and the feast of the Holy Ghost. While this was being
solemnised all came to hallow the glorious king whose sceptre-bearing
glory then more brightly shone, whose golden diadem glittered so that
its beauty could not be compared to gold. They led the king, crowned and
elected, with glory and honour to the church, where all his counsellors
were assembled, and where all the people awaited him. With him went and
returned good men and noble abbots, clothed in snowy vestments and in
purple. This noble company was followed by the abbesses, matrons of
exalted virtue with glorious daughters. These were followed by a
multitude of priests, whom our ancestors called elders, with ranks of
clerks. Then two bishops took the king’s hands and led him into the
church, all singing in a deep and modulated tone this antiphon; “Thou
hast a mighty arm: strong is thy hand, and high is thy right hand.
Righteousness and equity are the habitation of thy seat: mercy and truth
shall go before thy face.” This antiphon finished, they added thereto,
“Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Ghost.” And when
they had entered the church and the king had prostrated himself before
the altar, first putting off from his head his diadem, Dunstan, the
chief bishop, began with a loud voice the hymn of glory, “We praise thee
as God, we acknowledge thee to be the Lord.” But he could not refrain
himself from tears for joy and for the humility of the king, because he
knew that the nation had not deserved a king so humble and so wise. When
the hymn was concluded the bishops raised the king from the ground.
Three oaths, at the archbishop’s question, did he promise that he would
observe: “First I promise that the church of God and all the Christian
people shall always keep true peace in our dominion. Secondly I promise
that I will forbid outrage and all wickedness in all ranks. Thirdly that
I will command justice and mercy in all dooms, that the merciful and
pitiful God may dispense his mercy to me and to you.” The promises made,
the archbishop stood and prayed for him the prayers that were written in
their books. Then Oswald, the minister of Christ, said the second Mass
with great grace, as the Archbishop arranged, to whose commands all were
obedient. When the hallowing was completed, they anointed him and sang
nobly together the antiphon, “Sadoc the priest and Nathan the prophet
anointed Salomon king over Sion,” and added, “May the king live for
ever!” After anointing the king the bishop gave him the ring, then
girded him with the sword, and after this gave him the crown upon his
head and the blessing. He gave him the sceptre and the staff. The
aforesaid bishop completed all these things, and finished Mass, and they
declared a solemn feast-day. The sound of the trumpet was not heard
there, nor the horn of the jester, but all things, after the manner of
wisest Salomon were honourably accomplished, where each drank according
to his age and his ability. The most eminent bishops, the venerable
Dunstan and the reverend Oswald, were seated on a raised throne with the
king, who was so graceful and comely in word and deed that nothing could
be seen or heard except the honour and praise shown to him by pious
dukes, and famous soldiers and chief men. The king, as we have said,
crowned with laurel and adorned with roses, was with the bishops: with
him glittered in glorious wise dukes and all the dignitaries of the
English, rejoicing in the heavenly King, who had granted to them to have
such a king “in whose mind were mercy and truth.” The queen had a
banquet with the abbots and abbesses. She was clothed in a garment of
linen, girt about with variety of jewels and pearls, raised higher than
the other matrons as became her royal dignity, since after the death of
the honoured duke, she had been honoured by marriage with the king. When
the royal nuptials were completed, all returned to their own homes,
blessing the king and queen, and wishing them the tranquillity of peace
which ancient kings obtained.
THE MURDER OF KING EDWARD AT CORFE (MARCH 18, 978).
=Source.=—_Anonymous Life of St. Oswald_, written between 995 and 1005.
Raine, _Historians of the Church of York_ (Rolls Series), p. 448.
Translated by W.
When the glory of leaders and emperor of all Albion [Edgar] was snatched
away from the storm of this changing world and rescued from the salt
shipwreck of the fluctuating sea, there arose everywhere, after the
times of gladness which peacefully endured in his reign, dissension and
tribulation which neither the bishops nor leaders of church and state
could pacify.... For some of the leaders of this country wished to elect
Edward, the elder son, as king, others of the chief men desired the
younger, Ethelred, since he seemed to all in word and deed more gentle.
For the elder filled all with fear and terror, for he scourged them with
words, nay, more, with terrible stripes, especially those about his
person. Meanwhile the ninth ... month had passed, and the tenth light
was shining upon mortals after the election of Edward, against whom some
thegns, zealous in his brother’s cause, formed a conspiracy, when he
should come to talk with his beloved brother.... One day at evening, as
we have said, the noble and elected king came to the house where dwelt
his dearly-loved brother with the queen, desiring the consolation of a
brother’s love. There came out to meet him, as was fitting, the chiefs
and leaders who were staying with the queen his mother. They formed a
wicked plot among themselves, who had such evil minds and so dark and
devilish a gloom that they did not fear to lay hands on the Lord’s
Anointed. He was surrounded on all sides by armed men, amongst them the
butler ready to serve in his lowly office. Now the revered king had with
him very few thegns, because he feared no man, trusting in the Lord and
in the might of His goodness. He had been instructed in the divine law
by bishop Sideman, and was strong and hardy in body. So when the
conspirators surrounded him ... he remained fearlessly sitting on his
horse. Madness was in them, and with it insanity. Then the worst
wickedness and the bold madness of Beelzebub the enemy burst out in the
minds of the treacherous thegns.... The thegns therefore held him, and
one drew him to the right to himself, as though he wished to kiss him,
while another roughly seized his left hand and wounded him. The king
called out as loudly as he could, “What are you doing, breaking my right
hand?” and suddenly fell from his horse, which also died. God’s martyr
was taken away by the thegns to the house of a poor man. No Gregorian
chant was heard, no dirge: but the famous king of all the land lay
covered with a common garment, awaiting the light of day.... When twice
six months of days of the solar and the lunar year were past, there came
the glorious Duke Ælfhere with a multitude of people, who ordered his
body to be raised from the ground. When this had been done, and the body
exposed, they found and saw it free from all spot and decay, as it had
been in life. When they saw this, all were astonished, with dances
rejoicing in the Lord, who alone worketh marvels. Then the thegns washed
the body of the revered king, and when they had clothed it with new
garments they placed it in a coffin or tomb, put it on their shoulders,
and conveyed it on a bier to the place where they buried him with
honour, where Masses and holy oblations were celebrated for the
redemption of his soul, at the command of the duke.
THE REDELESS KING AND THE DANES (980-1002).
=Source.=—_Anglo-Saxon Chronicle._ Translated by J. A. Giles. Bohn’s
Library.
ANNO 980.—In this year ... was Southampton ravaged by a ship-force, and
the most part of the townsmen slain and led captive. And that same year
was Thanet-land ravaged by a ship-force, and most part of the townsmen
slain and led captive. And that same year was Legecester-shire
[Cheshire] ravaged by a northern ship-force.
ANNO 981.—In this year St. Petroc’s-stowe [Padstow] was ravaged; and
that same year was much harm done everywhere by the sea-coast, as well
among the men of Devon as among the Welsh.
ANNO 982.—In this year landed among the men of Dorset three ships of
pirates; and they ravaged in Portland.
ANNO 988.—This year was Watchet ravaged, and Goda, the Devonshire thegn,
slain, and with him much slaughter made.
ANNO 991.—This year was Ipswich ravaged; and after that, very shortly,
was Brihtnoth the ealdorman slain at Maldon. And in that year it was
decreed that tribute, for the first time, should be given to the Danish
men, on account of the great terror which they caused by the sea-coast.
That was at first ten thousand pounds. This counsel was first given by
Archbishop Siric.
ANNO 992.—Then decreed the king and all his witan that all the ships
which were worth anything should be gathered together at London. And the
king then committed the forces to the leading of Ælfric the ealdorman,
and of Thorod the earl, and of Bishop Ælfstan [of London], and of Bishop
Æscwy [of Dorchester]; and they were to try if they could anywhere
betrap the army about. Then sent the ealdorman and directed the army to
be warned; and then during the night of which they should have joined
battle by day, then fled he by night from the forces, to his great
disgrace: and the army then escaped, except one ship, whose crew was
there slain. And then the ships from East Anglia and from London met the
army, and there they made great slaughter of them; and took the ship,
all armed and equipped, in which the ealdorman was.
ANNO 993.—In this year was Bamburgh entered by storm, and much booty
there taken. And after that the army came to the mouth of the Humber,
and there wrought much evil, as well in Lindsey as in Northumbria. Then
a very large force was gathered together; and as they should have joined
battle, then the leaders, first of all, began the flight; that was
Frene, and Godwin, and Frithgist.
ANNO 994.—In this year came Olave and Sweyn to London, on the nativity
of S. Mary, with ninety-four ships; and they then continued fighting
stoutly against the city, and would also have set fire to it. But they
there sustained more harm and evil than they ever supposed that any
citizens would be able to do unto them. But the holy mother of God, on
that day, showed her mercy to the citizens and delivered them from their
foes. And they then went thence, and wrought the utmost evil that ever
any army could do, by burning, and plundering, and man-slaying, both by
the sea-coast, and among the East Saxons, and in the land of Kent, and
in Sussex, and in Hampshire. And at last they took to themselves horses,
and rode as far as they would, and continued doing unspeakable evil.
Then the king and his witan decreed that they should be sent to, and
promised tribute and food, on condition that they should cease from
their plundering: which terms they accepted. And then all the army came
to Southampton, and there took up their winter quarters: and there they
were victualled from all the realm of the West Saxons, and they were
paid sixteen thousand pounds of money. Then the king sent Bishop Ælphege
[of Winchester] and Æthelweard the ealdorman after King Olave, and, the
while, hostages were delivered to the ships; and they then led Olave
with much worship to the king at Andover. And King Ethelred received him
at the bishop’s hands, and royally gifted him. And then Olave made a
covenant with him, even as he also fulfilled, that he never again would
come in hostile wise to the English nation.
ANNO 997.—In this year the army went about Devonshire in Severn-mouth,
and there ravaged, as well among the Cornishmen as among the North
Welsh, and among the men of Devon; and then landed at Watchet, and there
wrought much evil by burning and man-slaying. And after that they went
again about Penwithstert, on the south side, and went then into the
mouth of the Tamar, and then went up until they came to Liddyford, and
burned and destroyed everything which they met with; and they burned
Ordulf’s minster at Tavistock, and brought unspeakable booty with them
to their ships.
ANNO 998.—This year the army went again eastward into Frome-mouth, and
everywhere there they went up as far as they would into Dorset. And
forces were often gathered against them; but, as soon as they should
have joined battle, then was there ever, through some cause, flight
begun; and in the end they ever had the victory. And then at another
time they sat down in the Isle of Wight, and got their food the while
from Hampshire and from Sussex.
ANNO 999.—This year the army again came about into the Thames, and went
then up along the Medway, and to Rochester. And then the Kentish forces
came there to meet them, and they there stoutly joined battle: but alas!
that they too quickly yielded and fled; for they had not the support
which they should have had. And the Danish men had possession of the
place of carnage. And then they took horse and rode wheresoever they
themselves would, and full nigh all the West Kentish men they ruined and
plundered. Then the king, with his witan, decreed that with a ship force
and also with a land force they should be attacked. But when the ships
were ready, then the miserable crew delayed from day to day, and
distressed the poor people who lay in the ships: and ever as it should
have been forwarder, so was it later, from one time to another; and ever
they let their enemies’ forces increase, and ever the people retired
from the sea, and they ever went forth after them. And then in the end,
these expeditions both by sea and land effected nothing, except the
people’s distress and waste of money, and the emboldening of their foes.
ANNO 1000.—In this year the king went into Cumberland, and ravaged it
well nigh all. And his ships went out about Chester, and should have
come to meet him, but they were not able: then ravaged they Anglesey.
And the hostile fleet went this summer to Richard’s dominions
[Normandy].
ANNO 1001.—In this year was much hostility in the land of the English
through the ship force, and well nigh everywhere they ravaged and
burned, so that they advanced in one course until they came to the town
of Alton; and then there came against them the men of Hampshire, and
fought against them.... And they went thence west until they came to
Devon; and there Paley came to meet them, with the ships which he could
gather, because he had fled from King Ethelred, contrary to all the
plighted troth that he had given him; and the king had also well gifted
him with houses, and with gold and with silver. And they burned
Teignton, and also many other good towns which we are unable to name;
and there, afterwards, peace was made with them. And they then went
thence to Exmouth, so that they proceeded upwards in one course until
they came to Pen: and there Cole, the king’s high reeve, and Edsy, the
king’s reeve, went against them with the forces which they were able to
gather together; and they there were put to flight, and there were many
slain: and the Danish men had possession of the place of carnage. And
the morning after, they burned the village of Pen and at Clifton, and
also many goodly towns which we are unable to name, and then went again
east until they came to the Isle of Wight; and on the morning after,
they burned the town at Waltham, and many other small towns, and soon
after a treaty was entered into with them, and they made peace.
ANNO 1002.—In this year the king decreed, and his witan, that tribute
should be paid to the fleet, and peace made with them, on condition that
they should cease from their evil-doings. Then sent the king to the
fleet Leofsy the ealdorman; and he then settled a truce with them by the
king’s word, and his witan’s, and that they should receive food and
tribute. And that they then accepted: and then were they paid
twenty-four thousand pounds. Then during this, Leofsy the ealdorman slew
Eafy the king’s high steward; and the king then banished him the
land.... And in that year the king ordered all the Danish men who were
in England to be slain. This was done on St. Brice’s mass day; because
it was made known to the king that they would treacherously bereave him
of his life, and afterwards all his witan; and after that have his
kingdom without any gainsaying.
THE BATTLE OF MALDON (991).
=Source.=—_Anglo-Saxon Poem_, lines 481-637. Translated by E. A.
Freeman.
[Note that the lines are to be read across the page.]
Leofsuna spake out, and his linden heaved,
his board to guard him; he to the warrior quoth,
“I this promise thence that I nill
flee a footstep, but will further go,
to wreak in the fight my lord and comrade.
Nor by Stourmere any steadfast hero
with words need twit me that I lordless
homeward should go, and wend from the fight;
but me shall weapons meet point and iron.”
Full of ire he waded, fought he steadfastly,
on flight he thought not. Dunnere then quoth,
his dart he made quake, the valiant churl,
over all he cleped; he bade that warriors each
Brihtnoth should wreak; “Nought may he fear
who to wreak thinketh his lord among the folk,
nor for his life mourn.” Then they forth went,
for life they recked not. Began then the house-men
hardly to fight, fiercely spears bearing,
and to God they prayed that they might wreak
their lord and comrade, and on their foes
a fall might work. Then there a hostage gan
gladly to help; he was in Northumberland
of a hard kin, Ecglaf’s bairn,
Æscferth was his name. Nought then feared he
in the war-play, and he poured forth
arrows enough; one while he on board shot,
one while a warrior teased, ever and anon he sold
some wounds, the while he weapons
still might wield. Then yet in rank stood
Eadward the Long, ready and yearnful;
bold words spake he that he would not flee
a footstep of land, overback to bow,
while his better lay. He broke the board-wall
and with the warriors fought, till he his gift-giver
on the seamen worthily wreaked,
ere he in slaughter lay. So did Ætheric,
noble comrade, eager forth to go,
fought he earnestly, Sibriht’s brother,
and so many other clave the keeled board,
keen they were, burst they the boards,
and the hauberk sang a grisly lay.
There in the fight slew Offa the seamen,
till he on earth fell, and Gadda’s kinsman
the ground sought; rath was in battle
Offa down hewn, yet had he furthered
that he his lord had pledged, as he ere agreed
with his ring-giver that they should both
to the borough ride hale to home,
or in the host cringe on the slaughter-place,
of their wounds die. He lay thegnlike
his lord hard by. Then were boards broken,
seamen waded on, in the fight wrathful.
The spear oft waded through the fey man’s life-house.
Forth then went Wistan Thurstan’s son,
with the warmen fought he, he was in the throng,
banesman of three of them, ere him Wigeline’s bairn
in slaughter low laid. There was stern meeting;
stood they fast fighters in battle;
fighting they cringed, with their wounds weary;
slaughter fell on earth. Oswold and Ealdwold
all the while, both brethren,
the warriors trimmed; their fellow-kinsmen
with words they bade, that they there at need
them should bear up, and unweakly
their weapons use. Brihtwold then spake,
his board heaving; he was an old comrade;
his ash he made quake; he full boldly
the warriors learned; “Mind shall the harder be,
heart shall the keener be, mood shall the more be,
as our main lessens. Here lies our Elder,
all down hewn, a good man in the dust;
ever may he groan who now from this war-play
of wending thinketh. I am old of life;
hence stir will I not, and I by the half
of my lord, by such a loved man
to lie am thinking.” So Æthelgar’s bairn
then all cheered on, Godric to battle:
Oft he the dart let go, the death spear wound he
on the wikings.
COUNTRY LIFE AT THE END OF THE TENTH CENTURY.
A MASTER IN A MONASTERY SCHOOL QUESTIONS HIS PUPIL’S COMPANIONS AND HIS
PUPIL.
=Source.=—_Ælfric’s Colloquy._ Thorpe’s _Analecta Anglo-Saxonica_.
Translated by W.
THE PLOUGHMAN.
_Master._—Well, ploughman, how do you do your work?
_Ploughman._—O sir, I work very hard. I go out in the dawning, driving
the oxen to the field, and I yoke them to the plough. Be the winter
never so stark, I dare not stay at home, for fear of my lord; but, every
day I must plough a full acre or more, after having yoked the oxen, and
fastened the share and the coulter to the plough.
_Master._—Have you any mate?
_Ploughman._—I have a boy, who drives the oxen with a goad, who is now
however hoarse from cold and shouting.
_Master._—What more do you do in the day?
_Ploughman._—Truly I do more. I must fill the mangers of the oxen with
hay, and water them, and carry out the dung.
_Master._—Well, well, it is very hard work!
_Ploughman._—Yes, indeed, it is very hard work, because I am not free.
THE SHEPHERD.
_Master._—How say you, shepherd? Have you any work to do?
_Shepherd._—Yes, indeed I have. Very early in the morning I drive my
sheep to the lea, and stand over them in heat and in cold with my dogs,
lest the wolves eat them up. And I drive them back to their folds, and
milk them twice a day. And besides this, I move their folds, and I make
cheese and butter, and I am true to my lord.
THE OXHERD.
_Master._—And what is your work, oxherd?
_Oxherd._—O, my lord, I work hard. When the ploughman unyokes the oxen,
I lead them to the lea, and all the night I stand over them watching for
thieves, and again, very early in the morning, I hand them over to the
ploughman, well fed and watered.
THE HUNTSMAN.
_Master._—How do you set about your craft?
_Huntsman._—I make me nets, and set them in a likely place, and drive on
my hounds to chase the wild beasts until they come to the nets unawares,
and so they are ensnared and I slay them in the nets.... Yes, I can hunt
without nets. I follow the wild beasts with swift hounds.... I take
hart, and boars, and does, and roes, and sometimes hares....
_Master._—What do you do with the spoils of your hunting?