THE REIGN OF ATHELSTAN.
"Clamour was on the earth.
They darted from their hands many a stout spear;
The sharpened arrows flew--the bows were busy--
The buckler's received the weapon's point.
Bitter was the fight--warriors fell on either side.
The youths lay slain."
DEATH OF BRYHTNOTH, 991.
Although Athelstan was the illegitimate son of Edward the Elder, and
his mother, a woman of surpassing beauty, only the daughter of a humble
shepherd, yet he was in his thirtieth year elected to the crown, by the
consent of the whole witena-gemot, or Saxon parliament, in accordance
with the will left by his father. While but a child, his beauty and
gentle manners had interested his grandfather Alfred, and the great
king, as if foreseeing the splendid station to which the future monarch
would one day rise, had with his own hand invested the boy with the
honours of knighthood; had doubtless many a time placed him upon his
own knee, and as he sat in childish pomp, in his purple garment,
jewelled belt, and with his Saxon sword, buried in its golden sheath,
dangling by his side, had instilled into his youthful mind those
precepts which had guided his own career, and shown him how he should
think and act when he became king. When Alfred died, his daughter
Ethelfleda took Athelstan with her into Mercia, and joined with her
husband Ethelred in watching narrowly over his education; so that when
he was called upon to ascend the throne of Wessex, there could be
but few found in that day whose scholastic and military attainments
excelled those of Athelstan.
At the time of Athelstan's accession, Sigtryg, a grandson of Ragnar
Lodbrog's, reigned over a portion of Northumbria, and although, like
all the rest of the sea-kings, he was a bold and fearless pirate,
and still worse, was guilty of the murder of his own brother, yet
Athelstan gave to him his own sister in marriage, and the nuptials of
the Danish king and the Saxon princess were celebrated with all the
barbaric pomp of the period at Tamworth. What motive Athelstan had
for establishing this union, we are at a loss to divine. It has been
attributed to fear--a wish to conciliate a powerful enemy. This could
not be the case: for we find the Saxon king preparing to invade his
dominions a few months after he had married his sister. The conditions
of the marriage were that Sigtryg should renounce his idolatry, and
become a Christian--propositions which he swore to accede to by his
own heathen oath on the bracelets; and, with his heart still clinging
to the altars of Odin, he was baptized and married. He soon grew
weary of his new wife and his new religion, put on his golden armlets
again, and, solemnly swearing by his heathen gods, renounced them
both: for, reigning over a land inhabited solely by unbelieving Danes,
we can scarcely marvel at such an act when performed by a pagan, who
understood not the attributes of the true God. Athelstan lost no time
in preparing to resent the insult offered to his religion and to his
sister, but began at once to march his forces towards Northumbria.
Eager, however, as he had been to arm, when he reached the Danish
dominions he found that death had stepped in before him; for Sigtryg,
after renouncing both his Christian and his heathen creed, had died,
and the sons whom he had had by a former wife fled at the approach of
Athelstan. Anlaf, in his ship, escaped to Ireland; and Godifrid sought
shelter and protection under Constantine, the king of the Scots. To
the latter, Athelstan sent messengers, demanding of him to deliver
up the Danish prince. Constantine prepared to obey the peremptory
summons, but during the journey Godifrid escaped. After enduring
many perils both by sea and land, he at last fell into the hands of
Athelstan, whose anger had by that time subsided, for he received
the poor fugitive courteously, and treated him kindly, and gave him
a warm welcome to his own court. But four days of princely ease in a
Saxon palace were quite enough for the great grandson of the stormy
old sea-king, Ragnar Lodbrog, and on the fifth he fled, seized a ship,
and set up pirate, as his forefathers had formerly done; for "he was,"
says one of the old chroniclers, "as incapable as a fish of living out
of water." Although Athelstan added Northumbria to his dominions, the
Danes were resolved not to give up a country of which they had so long
retained possession without a struggle. Many a Vikingr still existed,
who claimed kindred with the grandsons of Ragnar Lodbrog; and tidings
soon reached the rocky coast of Norway, that the Saxon king had laid
claim to the Anglo-Danish territories, over which their brethren
had ruled as kings; and though the ivory horn of Hastings no longer
summoned their sea-horses from the creeks and harbours in which they
were stabled, they soon again began to ride over the road of the swans,
and to climb the stormy waves of the Baltic in their armed ships. Such
formidable preparations were made for the invasion as threatened at
last to overwhelm for ever the Saxon monarchy. The rumour of such a
victory rang through England, and arrested the gaze of the neighbouring
nations. We will briefly glance at the cause of this great commotion.
It appears that Constantine had violated the treaty which he had made
with Athelstan, and that the latter ravaged the Scottish dominions both
by sea and land, carrying his army among the Picts and Scots, and the
ancient Cymry, who inhabited the valley of the Clyde, and his ships
as far north as Caithness. Unable to compete with the Saxon forces,
Constantine began to look abroad for assistance, and formed a league
with Anlaf, who, as we have before stated, had escaped to Ireland,
where he was made king over some little state. He, it will be borne
in mind, had fled from Northumbria at the approach of Athelstan, and
doubtless considered that he had as just a claim to the throne of
Northumbria as Athelstan had to that of Wessex. The Welsh princes, who,
still settled down as petty sovereigns, had felt the weight of the
strong arm of Athelstan, and readily confederated with Constantine and
Anlaf--the Danes of Northumbria, East Anglia, and Cumbria, had so long
been settlers in the country, that self-defence alone compelled them to
league themselves against a king who threatened ere long to reduce the
whole of Dane-land to his sway. Added to these, were the ships already
fitting out in Norway, or breasting the billows of the Baltic. Thus
were arrayed against Athelstan and his handful of Saxons, the whole
forces of Scotland--the Irish fleet commanded by Anlaf--the remnant of
the ancient Britons--the Danes of East Anglia and Northumbria--together
with the legions who were hourly pouring in from Norway and the
Baltic--a force formidable enough to have blanched the cheek of the
great Alfred himself, had he lived to have looked upon it.
Athelstan saw the storm as it gathered about him, and knowing that it
would before long break over him, he prepared himself like a man who is
resolved to buffet it--who is determined to do his best to weather the
tempest, whatever may betide. He resolved not to sit listlessly down
with folded arms to be drenched by the overwhelming torrent, if safety
could be won by hard struggling. He offered high rewards to every
warrior who chose to fight in his cause; and Thorolf and Egil, two of
those restless sea-pirates who cared not whether they plundered or slew
for themselves or others, so long as it brought in wealth, arrived
with three hundred followers, and entered the service of Athelstan.
Another celebrated chief, named Rollo, also sent him assistance from
Normandy. The war was commenced by Anlaf, who sailed into the Humber
with a large fleet which consisted of about six hundred ships, while
the forces under his command numbered at least forty thousand men.
They overpowered the Saxon army which Athelstan had placed on the edge
of the Deira and the Northern frontier of Mercia; and the remnant
fled to the head-quarters occupied by the Saxon king. Anlaf is said
to have visited Athelstan's camp, disguised in the character of a
minstrel, as Alfred himself had before time done, when he reconnoitred
the stronghold of Godrun. Although he escaped, he was discovered, and
Athelstan was warned to remove his tent, by which means his life was
saved, as a night attack was made upon the camp, and the bishop of
Sherbourne, who had exchanged his mitre for a helmet, and who soon
after arrived with his soldiers, was stationed in the quarter which the
king had so recently quitted, and fell a victim, instead of Athelstan,
for whose destruction the attack was planned. After this night combat,
in which the enemy proved victorious, Athelstan knew that there was
no time to be lost, and therefore began to arrange the forces for the
battle, which was to decide his fate. Anlaf also drew up his large
army in readiness for the approaching affray. The Saxon king placed
his boldest troops at the front of the battle; leaving them to the
command of Egil, who, though only a hired chieftain, was a brave and
honourable soldier. To Thorolf he entrusted the followers whom he had
been accustomed to lead, mingling with them a few of his own Saxon
soldiers, who appear to have been steadier, and better able to repel
the attacks of the Irish who had come over with Anlaf, and were in
the habit of moving quickly from place to place, and by their changes
disarranging the order of battle. Over the Mercian warriors, and the
brave English hearts which London had poured forth, he placed Turketul,
the chancellor, and bade him, when the war-cry was sounded, to charge
headlong upon Constantine, and the Scots whom he commanded. Athelstan
himself headed the West Saxons, placing them opposite to the point
occupied by Anlaf, as if fearful of trusting any other than himself
in the most dangerous post. Anlaf altered not his position, but stood
front to front with his forces, drawn up opposite the Saxon monarch.
Behind the right wing of the army of Anlaf there stretched a vast
wood; facing, and nearly out-flanking it, were drawn up the soldiers
Thorolf commanded; who, eager as a hawk to rush upon the quarry, was
the first to plunge headlong upon the enemy, and in a moment he was
in the very thickest of the ranks, having far outstripped all, but a
few of the foremost of his companions. Adils, a British prince, who
fought under the banner of Anlaf, wheeled his Welsh forces round, and
severed Thorolf and his friends from the rest of their followers, and
slew them. Egil saw the standard of Thorolf surrounded by the enemy,
beheld it rocking and reeling above the heads of the combatants as it
was borne towards the wood, and conscious that his brave companion in
arms had not betrayed his trust; that the banner of Thorolf was never
seen to retreat whilst its leader was alive; he, with his shield slung
behind his back, and wielding his huge claymore, rushed on like a
dreaded thunderbolt to revenge his death. The forces which Athelstan
trusted to his command deserted him not; they hewed their way through
the enemy's ranks, they pursued them into the wood, and Adils fell in
the fight, for the Welsh wing, which occupied the front of the forest,
was defeated with terrible slaughter.
Meantime, in the centre of the plain, the combat raged with unabated
fury; arrows, darts, and javelins, were abandoned; for it was now the
close hand to hand contest, when blows were dealt at arm's length with
the sword, and the battle-axe, and the club, bristling with sharp steel
spikes, which bit through, or crushed the heaviest helmet;--when the
huge two-handed claymore was swung with giant arms, and men fell before
it like grass before the scythe of the mower in a summer field;--when
blood flowed and none heeded it, but the combatant placed his foot upon
the dead that the blow might fall with heavier force;--when vassal and
chief rolled over together;--when horse and rider fell, yet scarcely
broke for a moment the enraged ranks who passed over them--while over
all the war-cry, and the shouts of the combatants rang, drowning the
moans of the wounded and the dying. Cool and collected amid this
breathless struggle, the chancellor Turketul selected a chosen band
from amongst the Londoners and the brave men of Worcestershire, who
were renowned for their valour, and who feared nothing while Singin was
at their head. These the warlike chancellor placed in close order, and
himself leading the way, they plunged headlong upon Constantine and his
Scots, Turketul paying no more regard to the arrows that stuck in his
armour than a rhinoceros would if pierced with a dozen pins, nor did he
halt until he had dealt a heavy blow on the helmet of the Caledonian
monarch. Had not the Scots rushed up in a body to the rescue, Turketul
would have dragged their king, horse and all, into the Saxon ranks;
they, however, came just in time to save him.
Never had a warrior a narrower escape with his life than Turketul.
He was surrounded by the Scots, foremost amongst whom was the son of
Constantine--who also narrowly escaped from being captured--when,
just as the weapons were uplifted to despatch the chancellor, Singin
rushed in at the head of his Worcestershire warriors, slew the Scottish
prince with a single blow of his battle-axe, and rescued Turketul. The
well-timed attack led on by Singin completed the defeat of the Scottish
army, and they made no other attempt to rally; Constantine escaped.
Leaving Turketul, Egil, and Singin to pursue the routed forces of the
Welsh and Scots, we must now glance at that part of the field where the
opposing forces, commanded by Athelstan and Anlaf, were engaged. Here
the combat continued to rage unabated. The figure of the Saxon king
was seen in the very thickest of the fight, and while he was hemmed in
by his enemies, and showering down blows upon all who came within the
reach of his weapon, his sword suddenly broke short at the handle. To
receive the blows which were aimed at him upon his shield and snatch
up another weapon were scarcely the work of a moment; but during that
brief interval, Anlaf's troops obtained a slight advantage, and began
to press more heavily upon the Saxon ranks. It were then that Anlaf,
suddenly turning his head, beheld confusion in his rear; for Turketul
and Egil, having returned from the pursuit, had thus suddenly hemmed
in the only portion of the enemy's forces that remained upon the field.
With the powerful forces of Athelstan before, and an enemy, already
flushed with victory, attacking him in the rear, Anlaf saw his hitherto
brave soldiers wavering on all sides; the centre of his strong line was
broken, and to the left and right all was hurry, retreat, confusion,
and slaughter, while in the centre the Saxon banner waved triumphant,
and the loud cry of victory rang out in front, and was echoed back
from the rear of the defeated army:--the conflict was at an end--the
combined forces fled on every hand, and the conquerors pursued the
flying enemy until their arms became weary with slaughter. Far as the
eye could reach, it rested upon a long line of the dying and the dead.
Never during the wars of Alfred had so many fallen upon one field as
perished in the battle of Brunanburg.
But few of the poems which have been written to commemorate these
ancient victories have descended to us perfect. That which was composed
to celebrate the Saxon triumph at the battle of Brunanburg, has,
however, been more fortunate, having found a place even in the Saxon
chronicle itself. Although it has been frequently translated, and
quoted by many historians, there is something so forbidding to the eye
in the short, heavy lines, something so difficult to comprehend, in
the lengthy extension, and abrupt transition of the sentences, that we
shall venture upon a somewhat free adaptation of the literal version,
yet endeavour to preserve unaltered the original thought and spirit of
the poem:
ANGLO-SAXON SONG ON THE VICTORY AT BRUNANBURG.
Athelstan, king of earls, the lord, the giver of golden
bracelets to the heroes, and his brother, the noble Edmund the
Elder, won a lasting glory in battle by slaughter with the
edges of their swords at Brunanburg. They, with the rest of
the family of the children of Edward, clove asunder the wall
of shields, and hewed down the waving banners, for it was but
natural to them from their warlike ancestry to defend their
treasures, their home, and their land, against all enemies in
the battle-field.
From the time the sun rose up in the morning hour, to when
the great star of the eternal Lord, that noble creature,
God's candle bright, hastened to his setting, they pursued
and destroyed the Scottish bands, and the men of the fleet in
numbers dying, fell, and the wide field was everywhere covered
with the blood of warriors; many a soldier lay there dead with
darts struck down; many heroes over whose shields the showery
arrows were shot, whom the battle would never again weary, and
who would never more boast that they were of the race of Mars
the Red.
Throughout the day the West Saxons fiercely pressed on the
loathed bands, they scattered the rear of the army, and hewed
down the fugitives with their strong mill-sharpened swords. The
Mercians shrunk not from the hard-hand-play, from the men, who
with Anlaf over the ever beating deep, in the ships sheltered,
sought this land for the deadly fight. In that blood dyed
battle-field, five kings in the bloom of youth did the sword
send to slumber, also seven of Anlaf's earls, and numbers of
the ship-borne army slept with the slain.
The Scots with the lord of the Northmen were chased away--fate
compelled him to seek the noisy deep, and with a small host in
his floating ship on the felon flood he escaped with his life,
so also Constantine with his routed remnant in hasty flight,
hurried to the north. Silent sat the hoary hero of Hilda
amongst his kindred, for small cause had he to boast who had
left his friends slain in combat; and his son, the fair-haired
youth, unused to the conflict, mangled with wounds in the
battle-field.
Inwood the aged, nor Anlaf, no more with the wreck of their
armies could now exult or boast that they, on the stern
battle-field, were better at lowering the banners, 'mid the
clashing of spears, and the crashing of weapons, and the
meeting of heroes on the field of slaughter, than the sons of
Edward, whom they opposed. On the roaring sea; over the deep
waters, a dreary and silent remnant, the northman sailed in
their nailed ships, and sought in Dublin and Ireland to bury
their disgrace.
Athelstan and his brother again sought their country, the west
Saxon land from fight triumphant. They left behind them, to
devour the prey, the ominous kite and the black raven, with
horned beak, the horse-toad, and the eagle, swift to feast on
the white flesh; the greedy battle-hawk, and the grey beast,
the wolf of the weald.
The poem then concludes by stating "as the books of the old historians
inform us, never had there before been so great a slaughter in this
island since the Saxons first came over the sea to conquer the Welsh,
and gain the land." The victory of Brunanburg made Athelstan the
monarch of England, for not only had he subjugated the Danes in East
Anglia and Northumbria, but had compelled the Welsh also to acknowledge
his power. As the eyes of Europe had been turned upon him, before he
entered the field against the combined forces his valour defeated, so
did the different nations now rival each other in their congratulations
on his victory. England was no longer the unknown island, which in
former times the Romans had such difficulty to discover; but began to
raise her head proudly amongst the neighbouring nations. The exiles who
were compelled to flee from the ravages of the Northmen, he received
and succoured in his own court. He sheltered his sister Elgiva, and
her son Louis, when her husband, the king of France, was dethroned
and imprisoned. He was appealed to for advice and assistance, when
a dispute arose about the succession to the throne of France; and as
he adjudged, so was the matter decided. His sisters were sought in
marriage by powerful princes; his consent was courted by embassies,
backed with costly presents; and he even fitted out a fleet, and sent
it to the aid of France--thus being the first to cement a union with
that kingdom, whose history in latter days has become so closely
interwoven with our own. Even Otho, who was afterwards surnamed the
great, obtained the hand of Athelstan's sister in marriage; and there
is still in existence, in the Cotton library, a beautiful manuscript
copy of the Gospels, in Latin, which was presented by Otho and his
sister to Athelstan, on which the Anglo-Saxon kings are said to have
sworn when they took the coronation oath. He was also honoured with
the friendship of Henry the First, the emperor of Germany, and by the
alliance of his son in marriage with his sister Editha. Athelstan
also formed a league with Harold, king of Norway, and through the
instrumentality of the two kings, the system of piracy, which had long
rendered the ocean as perilous as the tempests that sweep over it, was,
by the interference of Harold, and the intercession of Athelstan, put
down: for Harold not only chased the pirates from his own dominions,
but pursued them over the sea until he overtook, and destroyed them,
and when he had cleared the ocean of these ancient robbers, he drew up
a code of severe laws for the punishment of all who dared to attack
either the British or the Norwegian fleets. In such high estimation was
Athelstan held by Harold, that he sent his son Haco over to England to
be educated in the Saxon court, and so delighted was the Norway king
with the progress the young prince made in his studies and warlike
exercises, that he presented to Athelstan a beautiful ship, with purple
sails, surrounded with shields that were richly gilt, while the prow,
or figure at the head, was wrought out of pure gold. To the prince,
the Saxon king presented a costly sword, which Haco the Good, (as he
was afterwards called, when he became king) treasured until the day
of his death. When Harold died, and some difficulty arose as to the
succession of Haco to the throne of Norway, Athelstan provided him with
soldiers and a strong fleet, and thus enabled him to take possession
of his kingdom. On the thrones of France, Bretagne, and Norway, sat
three kings who were all indebted to Athelstan for their crowns; a
strong proof of the power and dignity to which England had risen. He
is said to have restored Howel to the kingdom of Wales, and Constantine
to the throne of Scotland, after having conquered their dominions.
Having assisted to dethrone Eric, and to place the crown of Norway on
the head of Haco, he made the former king of Northumbria, as a proof
of the respect he bore to the memory of his father Harold. Nor was he
less liberal to the monks, but contributed freely to enriching the
monasteries, both with money, books, and costly vessels, while several
are said to have been built at his own expense. Like his grandfather
Alfred, he was also generous to the poor; from the royal farms he
ordered to be given to the needy every month a measure of meal, a
gammon of bacon, or a ram worth fourpence, besides clothing once a
year. These were to be distributed by the gerefa, who appears to have
stood in the same position as an overseer, or relieving officer, having
also to perform the duty of chief constable, and to warn the hundred
when the folk-mote or folcgemot was to assemble. If he neglected to
distribute the royal charity, he was fined thirty shillings, which was
divided amongst the poor of the neighbouring tything. High, however,
as the character of Athelstan stands, it is not free from the stains
which too often blotted the brightest names that adorned this barbarous
age, though we cannot tell, at this remote period, how reluctantly he
may have yielded to the stern sentence of his witenagemot, when he
consigned his brother to death. Edwin had been leagued with others to
oppose the accession of Athelstan to the throne, and the king ordered
him to be placed within the
"Rotten carcass of a boat, nor rigged,
Nor tackle, sail, nor mast,"
and without even an oar, to be launched upon the ocean, and left to
chance, and the mercy of the waves. For some time the unfortunate
prince continued to keep afloat within sight of land, until at last the
wind rose, and perceiving that every billow but rolled him further into
the hopeless ocean, he preferred an instant to a lingering death, and
leaped boldly into the deep. His body was afterwards washed ashore, and
for seven years Athelstan is said to have mourned over his brother's
death, with deep and bitter sorrow. Athelstan died about the year 940
or 941; and, as he left no children, he was succeeded by his brother
Edmund.