A Tourist's Guide to Angland
Global Print Books, 2014
by Amit Dileep
Excerpt from
Chapter 4: Burmecia and the Crownlands
Somerild Rite is a divisive figure in Anglish history, while she is considered a strong part of the tradition of historical writers such as Bede or Leofric, she is also widely considered to be a fraud, a construction of a later writer of the 15th or 16th centuries, where her diaries were first definitely published. Despite that she’s still a folk hero a common fixture of Burmecian tourism but we suggest what’s said about her be taken with a spoon full of skepticism. Apparently born around 840 or 850 in Eidinburh in the Anglish reign of Burmecia during the reign of King Oswald the Second. As a young woman she travelled as a pilgrim to Leocastra to become a nun. At some point in her early years in the church she committed some crime or sin which she never described and was sentenced to penance in exile. While travelling south on her way to the mainland continent she was said to have encountered the first landings of the Great Heathen army of 863 in Wessex. She then had a vision of David fighting Goliath and took it upon herself to aid the Anglish armies (not yet all unified under one nation) to repel the Norse invaders.
She has become a folk hero for Anglanders and Burmecians in particular, moreso Burmecians of Anglish descent and those who are proud of their identity as Anglish. As such she appears on a lot of tourist merchandise as well as having several statues dedicated to her. One such statue appears in St Oswald’s Square in Eidinburh where she is portrayed as she often is, shaven headed and wearing the simple robes of a Pennant with an axe raised in defiance. In this case she also has one foot placed on a viking helmet. Similar statues can be found in Glecaster, Laudenwic and Dunholm.
Excerpt from
Part 3: Kent
Beyond being a seaside town of some reputation Hyrne (1) has is of historical significance. Its first claim to fame is that its beach is where the first Viking “Great Heathen Army” came ashore in 863. At this point Kent was its own independent kingdom, ruled by a king named Eanmund and at this time Angland was in the 9th year of the rule of king Aethelred. Up until this point Vikings had only ever carried out raids on Angland, such as Lindisfarne in 783 and Eidinburh in 805. Following Eardwulf’s fortification of the northern coast, the vikings had begun raiding further south, attacking towns like Lindun in East Anglia and Sulis in Wessex as well as continental settlements like Paris. However In 863 the vikings landed en masse at what is now Hyrne and began their conquest of the Anglish Kingdoms.
The Journals of Somerild Rite.
Translated from the old English by Edwin Sulis
As available from the Global Free Media Foundation
The second day, of the third week after Pentecost
I travelled to the Kingdom of Kent torn by a question of faith and penance. Some in the church say a Pennant must simply leave her home nation and go forth to preach the word of god. Others say she must go beyond the island or perhaps islands of her birth. This latter was what I sought particularly given much of these isles are under the guidance of the Anglish church. True there are Picts and Britons who perhaps follow the rule of Rome or are yet to receive the light of Christ at all but they are being converted and led by far less sinful people than I.
I travelled to Kent seeking passage to Francia for Kent is where it is its nearest point. As I got closer to the coast (I knew this for I could smell the sea much like one can at Streneshalc (2) or when the wind blew south onto Eidinburh (3). The closer I approached more people were travelling the other way. I remained silent for I dared not break my vow of silence until I had left Britain, not unless my or other's lives depended on it. So I carried on further toward Hyrne village to see if ships were anchoring in the bay and if not I would travel eastward up the coast until I could find passage. I hoped to reach Hyrne or somewhere else soon for I had not had water or food since receiving scraps begged from the congregations in Canterbury and the summer day was hot.
The smell of the sea grew stronger, the wind was blowing it from the coast south onto me. I found Hyrne almost empty, what few others were there were departing, loading up carts or simply fleeing on foot. One old man noticed me, seeing who and what I was “Pennant!” he barked. I nodded. “Do you not know what is happening?” I shook my head again. “Norsemen!” he said bluntly. My eyes went wide, “So we must go or face the fate of the Holy Island!” I nodded. I went to speak. The wind was carrying noises in, screams and shouts. I pointed in the direction of the shore, unsure if I should break my vow. “Yes, some forty ships perhaps,” I paused, then quickly walked towards him where he was loading food and possessions onto a simple horse drawn cart, struggling with a box of clothes. I moved to help him and he thanked me as we pushed it up onto the cart.
Suddenly I stopped and the man asked for why I did. In the center of the village where two roads met I saw two figures as clear as if before me. One figure stood taller than any farmhouse, wearing an animal skin around his waist. He carried a large wooden club that was as if he had simply picked a tree from the ground, being as it was, longer than I was high. Facing him was a young man in white robes as if from some biblical illustration. It was here I knew who I saw, even as the young man, dwarfed by the other figure, drew out a sling. Here was David, Israelite and servant of king Saul facing Goliath, champion of the Philistines. I watched in awe as David loaded his sling and flung it at the giant. I watched as the stone arced across the village square, guided by god and hit Goliath between the eyes. As I heard the giant boom out in pain and stagger back. I knew what to do.
I looked beyond them, down the road, even as this David and Goliath faded from sight. Cresting the hill were a dozen Norsemen. Each seemingly stood seven feet tall with broad shoulders covered in fur cloaks with helmets that protected their face. I looked to them, then back to the farmer. “Go!” I yelled at him,
“If I go now, I’ll lose half my possessions!” the old man protested
“If you do not go now, then you lose your life!” He climbed onto the cart and began to move off, the horse already startled by the noise and perhaps its owner’s fear laden tone. I looked around, at each of the buildings. Simple farm houses. Many had been left open and I looked inside for something to perhaps protect myself with. Inside one I found a woodsman’s axe left by the fleeing owner. I picked it up, unsure of how to use it effectively but knowing at that point my life was forfeit in the eyes of my church and my god. I walked towards the approaching Norse men, silently praying as I did, the words of those who sought penance or lived simply. “I am one with god, and god is with me,” repeatedly I thought it over and over.
The nearest one bellowed something at me in his foreign tongue and knowing he would not understand me I just let out the most fearsome yell I could. He and his companions laughed at the sight of this skinny, shaven headed woman armed only with a woodsman's axe and no armour. I knew in my heart my life was at an end but any time I could delay them would perhaps give others time to flee to Canterbury. Expecting to struggle with the axe I felt a rush of strength and lifted it with easy, swinging it at the Norseman who was caught off guard by it. My axe buried itself in his shield and I pulled the axe back, ripping the shield from his grasp and bringing its weight across his face, knocking him down before my axe broke lose. Another Norseman swung at me and somehow knowing from where he came I raised my axe to parry his blow. A chunk of wood came from the haft of my axe but it stopped the blow. More men crowded around me and somehow I parried each blow, taking some out with wild swings of the axe. I was David and these were the Philistines.
To this day, I do not know how I survived, at the end of it they stood dead around me. Even as I saw more men approach the town. I knew what was asked of me. Somehow I knew my path lay in Britain and I would help the people of my mother church against these pagans. Quickly I gathered possessions from my slain foes. Food and weapons and fled back into the village where I would hide and wait for the Norsemen to pass. Surely they would be heading for Canterbury.
- OTL Herne Bay
- OTL Whitby
- OTL Edinbrugh, obvs
(I'm actually based in the South west, hence why Gloucester gets mentioned slightly too much, in fact the town of Wolfsholm is literally on the site of my home town, because why not 
