Saints and Sunrises: An Anglo-Saxon Timeline

[Bolt451]

OOC: I Realllllly Enjoyed writing the first one of these, so here is more prose. Alex Richards will probably school me on my Geography of OTL Durham

Prose.

Twelfth day, sixth moon. Seven fourty seven


Today I arrived in Dunholm, capital of Angland. It was pleasing to look back and realise I’d walked from the southern border of this nation, born within my father’s lifetime and Dunholm is a monument to its power and a statement to its intent. I’m told, repeatedly while I’m here for the locals are very proud of their city, that Dunholm was little more than a gathering of farms and a small chapel before it was chosen by King Aethelfrith of Northumbria as the site of his new palace. The city is atop a hill surrounded on three sides by the river wear and the fourth by a stone wall. I approached the city over St Oswine’s bridge, named for the old Northumbrian king and climb up past streets of wooden buildings, tightly packed by necessity of space.


My first destination on arriving was the main chapel within the walls of Dunholm Abbey. I pass the stone castle, which stands out amongst the mostly wooden buildings of the city and is surrounded by an inner wall. The first thing I notice about Dunholm Abbey is that the confines of the wear limit its size relative to the main chapel, which means that though the chapel is bigger than that at Glecaster, the abbey as a whole is far smaller and I figure given its proximity to the Holy Isle of Lindisfarne, many monks live here and travel here for festivals and occasions. The walls are tall and the gate quite ornate, clearly blessed by royal money, large wooden panels painted with images of saints and kings, or in the case of some, both. I noticed Saint Oswald the Great and Saint Peter were watching me as I passed through.



Once inside the Abbey it seemed like Glecaster but with different proportions. There were familiar buildings like Monks Quarters, squat timber buildings with thatched roofs, kitchens where food for monks and the needy is cooked, only distinguished by their stone chimneys. At the center was the large stone chapel. Large oak doors at one end led you into the long building and at its far end was the altar, decorated with gold and silver items like candlesticks, plates and crucifixes. Behind the altar was a carving of Christ on the cross and as I approached it I could see saints looking down at me from paintings on wooden panels that stood between regular windows. The saints were a mix of local saints and those seen in scripture. Amongst the scenes and trappings I not only felt the power of god but the power of the Anglish church and not just how far it had come but what it aspired to be. Here I could see that perhaps it could be a rival to Rome or Constantinople, with time, and faith and this was not even yet the center of the church, but it would be.

 

[Bolt451]

The Museum of Anglish History, Laudenwic
Visitors guide
Part 3: the Early Kingdoms

Exhibit 10.11 is a portrait dating from the 18th century of Aedberht, who was king of Angland from 755 to 775. This portrait is considered potentially innacruate as he has been pirtrayed clean shaven and the style of clothes date from several centuries later. Aedberht was very much a warrior king and contemporary portrayals often show him in armour and on the battlefield. The second son of Aethelflaed the First (after the uncrowned Godric), prior to taking the throne he was a general under his father Oswiu of Eorforwic and upon his fathers death in 752 he took over as the Queen's first general, a role he did not give up upon assuming the throne.

Many sources throughout history portray Aedberht as a vicious and cruel king in the vein of his ancestor of some fifty years earlier, Osred, son of Aedwine. In fact some portrayals both modern and centuries old intentionally or unintentionally confuse the two. The 1955 film "The Red Right Hand" had Osred marching into Gwent and holding the king to ransom when it has been proven that this was carried out by Aedberht. Before this however Aedberht had already been successful in the north. Following raids by picts into Northern Angland from 558 to 560 Aedberht attacked Strathclota (1) and captured first Kyle and then the capital at Alclut (2) after defeating Dyfenwal, king of Strathclota. He would set a trend for dealing with the Picts by making Strathclota a tributary state with a puppet on the throne.

It was after this that Aedberht carried out the campaign he was most famous for, the Scouring of Britain. Having secured the northern border, in 762 crossed the border from Old Mercia into Gwent to do the same to the Britons that he had to the Picts of Strathclota. In spring 762 he was defeated at the battle of Caerwenta by King Owain of Gwent, known to medival historians as Owain the Silurian for his believed descent from the Celtic Silures. Following this setback Aedberht would go on t capture Caerwenta on the second try but both that battle as well as his previous campaigns in Strathclota had diminished his forces and when he came to negotiate a peace with the Gwentish royals he was unable to reach an agreement. It is believe (Though there is only conjecture to go on) that one of his demands was Owain's head. (Literary fans may known Owain and Aedberht from the Tomas Andresmann book "Look to the West" set around the battles of Caerwenta and the Scouring). Several contemporary accounts say that Aedberht had a strong temper and following this his army sacked Caerwenta and headed west across the southern British coast and razed towns, taking money not only from Gwent but also army sacked Glywysing and other kingdoms of the south west of Britain. Aedberht would earn many nicknames, including the Hammer of the British and the Butcher of Carleon.

It was only the continued attacks to the rear of his army as well as threats to Angland from the Kingdom of Gwynedd in northern Britain (which were perhaps in reaction to the scouring) that caused him to return to Angland in 766, wealthier but with Angland's reputation damaged amongst Britons and other Anglo Saxon countries. He would later do battle briefly with Gwynedd in 770, which would see the Anglish border set along the Mersey (itself from old Anglish for border river). He'd spend the last few years of his reign fortifying towns along the British border and a series of earthen fortifications to mark the border between Angland and the British nations, something finished under his eldest son, Eardwulf.


(1) OTL Strathclyde
(2) OTL Dunbarton, from Alt Clut, an old Brythonic term for Dunbarton, but confusingly, also the wider Strathclyde

 

[Bolt451]

Excerpts from “Sanguine,” the final book of the Waelmaer series by Beranstrang Kernow

Global Books, 207

The Year of Seven Seventy Eight


I made my way to the front gate of the monastary as the king arrived. It was a tradition of some three decades that the King or Queen would travel to Lindisfarne for the feast of St Oswine the Humble. The name had always amused me, it was called a feast by it being the traditional term for a meal accompanying a saint’s day but it was also by tradition a simple meal of bread, a simple vegetable stew and water, as Saint Oswine was said to have eaten for when his people went lacking so would he, so they might eat better. Thing king was of calm composure and level voice, at odds with his late father, but he is possessing of the same adventurous spirit and great cheer. The queen was not with us as she was once again with child and loathe to travel, even from Dunholm to the monastery. I told the king i was most understanding and wished the queen a calm and healthy birth and he replied that all was going well and that he hoped for another son. The king has brought his only (to this date) son, Eadric with him to the feast. A young boy of four years, he had the same oak brown hair and hazel eyes as his father and he was quiet and slow to speak but his father told me already showing signs of interest in the church and matters of scripture. With the kings approval I had two of the monks give the young Prince a tour of the abbey and it brought a smile to both myself and the king to see the boy start asking questions almost immediately. The king then retired to his quarters before he joined us for evensong and a simple supper, we were not to fill up on meats and wine before going without tomorrow.


The next day the feast of Saint Oswine was upon us. A messenger arrived at Lindisfarne today not for me but for the king. We wondered if perhaps the queen had given birth prematurely but we were astounded to find the seal of Charles, King of the Franks upon it. The message had arrived at Dunholm but found the king departed for Lindisfarne and pursued him north. I shall not transcribe the message into this journal but it was a final rebuttal to Eardwulf’s proposal that Eadric be betrothed to Charles’ youngest daughter, Berta when both came of age. The letter detailed the Frankish king’s refusal to allow Berta to convert to the Anglish church and the insistence Eadric to accept the guidance of Rome and not Lindisfarne as his mother church and that Frankia would not trade with Angland while it did not accept the Catholic church as its faith.

The usually calm king flew into a rage, still a man of strong faith he was not wanting to show his anger within the walls of the monastery, the king took his horse and road across the causeway onto the mainland and did not return for several house, seeming now calmed and more controlled. He came to seek my forgiveness but beyond his anger, there was nothing to forgive. I agreed at Angland needed a king of the Anglish church. After which we attended St Oswine’s day prayers together.

The next year, some time after pentecost we found Another message arrived from the king informing us that King Charles of the Franks has betrothed his daughter Berta to Siegmar, the infant king of Wessex. There is no news of the young king converting to the Roman church nor of any trading embargoes otherwise. I perhaps wonder if the events that transpired between Charles and King Eardwulf were some form of power play.

 

[Bolt451]

Excerpt from A Tourist's Guide to Angland
Global Print Books, 2014
by Amit Dileep


Chapter 4: Burmecia and the crownlands

Leocastra Abbey

Though often ignored by many travellers the town of Leocastra has a rich history. It has its routes in the earliest days of Angland and was for some time the center of the Anglish church. The name of the town comes from Leofric, the Archbishop of Canterbury from 769 to 783 , and castra, meaning Roman fort. Leofric was a prolific journalist and earliest records of zeocastra is from from those journals. He writes of that day’s entry


“I am writing this from a small market town built within the ruins of a roman castra about a days travel from the Capital.”


He rested in the town while fleeing from a viking raid on Lindisfarne a few days earlier, one of the earliest recorded raids by vikings in Angland. While many monks and pilgrims were captured or killed, Leofric and several other monks fled from the vikings onto the mainland and made their way from Lindisfarne to Dunholm. During the attack Leofric was wounded and while travelling the wound became infected and he soon weakened. He further wrote in his last journal entry.


“I am told There is a simple altar, made from the stones of the old roman fort, open to the elements, where locals leave offerings of flowers and simple items. It is a local tradition for those with the skill to leave prayers on pieces of wood or paper. Others will transcribe prayers for those without skill in letters. I met such a scribe today and gave him my blessing. I find myself unable to carry my own weight, so too of my closest companions have offered to carry me there to pray. May any who read this find the love of christ and follow his teachings and remain humble, kind and faithful.


At the alter Leofric was set to have a vision of Jacob’s ladder extending down to the altar, older accounts say a ladder actually descended from heaven and he found a new strength ascended the ladder, others say he died with a content smile on his face while praying. The next morning King Eardwulf arrived at the settlement and finding Leofric had passed on ordered an abbey built, with his tomb at its center. This Abbey would remain the center of the Anglish church and the seat of the Archbishop of Lindisfarne for several centuries although the title remained with the Holy Island.


The chapel is still there and has a shrine to the later beatified Saint Leofric, as well as Saint Peter and Saint Paul, upon whom’s feast day Leofric died, all of which have been rebuilt and restored over the years, most notably following the burning of Leocastra in 1544. There are also displays of the original altar Leofric died at as well as finds from archeological digs on the site. Although the site is no longer home to a full monastery comparable to Lindisfarne or even Hexham there are monks who live on the site and tend to the Abbey. Anyone interested in early British history or the Anglish church owes it to themselves to visit Leocastra Abbey. It’s located in the center of Leocastra town center with easy transport access.

 

[Bolt451]

Headlines from The Morning Sun Newspaper


“Ruins found in excavation of new Ligorcaster shopping center”
12th September 2012

Workmen digging the foundations of a shopping center in Ligorcaster have found what is believed to be the ruins of a church or abbey. Historians have initially identified the church to the 15th or 16th century.


“Early Anglish King found in Ligorcaster Excavation”
14th September 2012

Further excavation of the church found during the construction of the Taurus Halo Shopping Center has uncovered a burial believed to be from the 11th or 12th century. An almost complete skeleton has been recovered from the site and is being analysed. Stonework from around the body identifies it as “Oswine, King of Angland”. If this is to be believed then the body dates from the 9th century and would be of Oswine of Lichfield one of the twin brothers who fought for the Anglish throne in the early 9th century.


“So Who was Oswine of Lichfield?”
19th September 2012

With the excavation of the (Still not entirely confirmed) body of Oswine of Lichfield, “Pretender King” of Angland, interest in pre-viking Angland has greatly increased yet some are still unsure who Oswine of Lichfield was. Lichfield was one of the twin sons of Eardwulf, king of Angland (who reigned from 775-799), the other being Eadric (sometimes called Eadric of Eidinburh) It is said that on his sons births Eardwulf remarked “May the lord forgive me for the thoughts I had when I was told I had twin sons” this most likely apocryphal and its known if the King ever considered killing one of his sons. With the birth of the twins in 781 the throne was immediately in contention as Eardwulf did not dare designated one heir over the other for several years and he knew even if he did, the other might serve as a focal point for rebellious parties within or without Angland. As they grew older, Eardwulf seperated the two, sending them to seperate cities to further their education, Eadric to Eidinburh and Oswine to Lichfield, hence their sometimes monikers.


Many historians have argued that this was a bad move, almost guaranteed to split the country on his death. As Eardwulf’s health deteriorated as the century drew to a close its accepted that he quietly named Eadric his heir. Many have said this was due to Eadric having a better image amongst the nobles, having the trust of the Pictish kingdoms as well as northern Angland and being a stronger and “more noble” bearing to him. This latter point often comes from various historical portrayals of Oswine as a sneering, hunched over man with a withered, crooked arm he’d try to hide. It is interesting to note that if this skeleton is Oswine with further analysis it may be possible to identify whether there was something that had lead to this image.


What is known that upon Eardwulf’s death in 799 almost immediately Oswine acted to secure Mercia and Lindsay before marching north into Deira. Even when presented with the evidence naming Eardric the heir and true king, Oswine is said by historians of the time to dismiss it as a forgery and continued north to Dunholm. Forces loyal to each king were initially scattered but within a few months the country was roughly split with Eardric north of the Humber and Oswine south of it. The two brothers clashed directly in 801 at the Battle of Beverley Monastery (not to be confused with the later battle of Beverley in the 12th Century) with neither brother managing to secure a decisive victory.


During this period of clashes between the warring brothers others took advantage of the situation. Vikings raided Eidinburh in 802 and in 803 Egbert, King of Wessex crossed the under defended southern border (at the time) of Angland and captured Glecaster with the assistance of the British kingdom of Gwent lead by King Meurig Ap Cadoc, who was a Catholic and saught revenge for the expulsion of the Catholics from Glecaster. With Meurig protecting the northern border Egbert then headed to Sussex to put a more pro-Wessex friendly king on the throne, (The current king, Berthun was opening supportive of Angland). Upon this advance, Sigmar of Essex (who’s wife was the aunt of the warring twins) sought to stop the advance of Wessex and raised an army. The East and West Saxon kings clashed near modern day Laudenwic in the summer of 805 and though defeated, Sigmar would continue to fight a Wolf Pack War against Egbert, not allowing him to secure his eastern border. 805 also saw another major viking raid, this time on the monastary town of Jarway. With these two events the brothers seemed to hold an unspoken truce to tend to their own territories while neither recognising each others claim to any of the Anglish Territories.


This recently paper reviewed the book “What if Moments in Anglish History” by Winfrith Cortan (Morning Sun Literature supplement, August 2nd) and in it Cortan discusses the decision of Egbert to capture Glecaster, he suggests this as a point of historical divergence and argues that with it, Egbert drove Oswine to march south to attack the army of Wessex. The two kings clashed near Oswine’s de facto capital of Lichfield and although the Anglish army won the day, a stray arrow hit Oswine and the wound became infected. Over the next few days Oswine’s health would fail and within a week he was dead. In that week however its generally accepted he confirmed his brother Eardric as king of Angland and swore his allegiance to him and implored his supporters do the same. What is less likely is the idea that Oswine travelled to Eardric (who at the time was fortifying the northern Anglish coast against further Viking attack) to ask for forgiveness before throwing himself at the altar in Dunholm abbey asking for forgiveness from God.


Following Oswine’s death his army would combine with Eardric’s and again do battle with the West Saxons, still under Egbert and soundly defeat them at Tamworig, killing the King of Wessex. Following this, Eardric would draw up a peace with Wessex, more or less returning the borders to status quo ante bellum with some repatriations being given to Gwent in return for them withdrawing from Glecaster.


Eardric then returned north to Dunholm and was officially crowned in 807 (though his reign is recognised officially from 799) and would reign until 830. His nation secured he turned to the Danish Sea coastline, fortifying towns along the coast against further Viking invasion. Something that would drive the vikings further south to Essex, Kent and Francia, but thats a story for another time.


Oswine was buried at Lichfield Abbey but a sacking of the abbey in the 16th century lead to the would be king’s body being recorded as being moved to Ligorcasta but there was no such record of his arrival, nor a burial marker of any sort for him at the modern (or rather, 18th century) Ligorcaster Abbey. With this discovery it is possible he reached Ligorcaster but wasn’t entombed when Ligorcaster Abbey was rebuilt.

 

[Bolt451]

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.

1. OTL Herne Bay
   
   
2. OTL Whitby
   
   
3. OTL Edinbrugh, obvs

 

[Bolt451]

The Journals of Somerild Rite.
Translated from the old English by Edwin Sulis
As available from the Global Free Media Foundation


Third Sunday After Pentecost.


I spent much of the last few days travelling from gathering to gathering, seeking an intact altar where I might mark the Sabbath. Travel has been slow as I have been avoiding Norsemen or perhaps even Kentish folk who might sell me out for a coin or two. The Vikings seem to number in their thousands but I think they have perhaps all come ashore now. This combined with the fact it has now been five days since and they show no sign of returning to their ships. Its almost certain they have come to conquer Britain. Across the area wherever they have encountered Altars whether enclosed in a church or out in the open they have desecrated them and taken anything valuable from them.


Last night I stayed with a family at a farm that overlooked the channel between here and the Isle of Sceapige. Truly I am grateful for the charity people see towards pennants(1) I’ve dared not go near Cantebury but i’ve seen smoke rising from it. I’m told that the Kentish King, Eanmund, has been killed and replaced with his young son Baldred, a child of Six.


As the day was drawing to a close, while crossing the countryside I found an altar in the woods where two streams met. It was some distance from any roads and somewhat neglected. Still it was place enough and I prayed. For my people, for my country who though far to the north would perhaps yet feel the wrath of these norse men and for myself, not for my soul but for my body so I might have the strength to fight them back.

(1) See earlier post, people who want to atone for sins by travelling abroad to preach

 

[Bolt451]

Excerpts from
The Journals of Somerild Rite.
Translated from the old English by Edwin Sulis
As available from the Global Free Media Foundation


864

Fifth Monday after Epiphany
Written, Three Oaks’ Farm, North of Ciscaester (1)

Our predictions seem correct and our fears have come true. spring has come early. One of our group, a local farmer who lost his land to the heathens travelled as close as he dared to the camp to see if there was any change their behaviour. He says the great army of the Norsemen is packing up and, I presume carrying on through Sussex, their wintering complete. Our little group of revenge filled fighters have done what we can. Stealing from them, diverting goods from them to locals or even ourselves.

We number some 20 now. They name them Somerild’s Wolves but I detest this name. A sinner and penitent such as myself is not deserving of this honour. Although they call me their leader it is Osmund, the merchant, who is still nursing his injuries from our fight at Laudenwic, who is the loudest but also the most diplomatic. He takes competing voices and finds a middle path in that flexible almost undefeatably cheerful trader’s tone of voice. He seems to be the midpoint between Johanne’s desire for revenge and Wulfestan’s desire for peace.

Osmund, who travelled from Kent through Sussex to Wessex trading rare good, tells me that the King of the South Saxons is by both fealty and marriage, is subservient to Cynewulf, King of the West Saxons. Osmund has suggested that while the Norsemen winter here, he will be in Glecaster, Wintancester (2) or Sulis and preparing to liberate his southern kinsman.

It makes me turn my mind to Angland. King Aethelred has surely received news by now of this great Norse army and I wonder his actions. I pray he is noble enough to do the right thing and help his Saxon Christian kin in the south. I pray he will not give into greed and jealousy and watch as his rival nation falls to pagans for if he doesn't help, he’ll face the pagans alone.

We’re packing up, continuing our journey as the army’s shadow. A group of wasps stinging at the army or indeed, David to their Goliath.



Ash Wednesday

To whoever may read these, forgive me for not transcribing my actions since my last entry. Between our quick shadowing of the Norse army and I must admit, running out of ink. Having acquired some from a merchant near Wintancester. Osmund thinks they’re moving north. We perhaps thought they were headed to Wintancester or Glastonbury but they've moved north, perhaps to Silchester or Corencaester (3), travelling roman roads like the conquering army that built them. We held a quiet service in the woods, almost silent prayer, accompanied only by the winds passing through the trees that provided our cover



First Friday of Lent

We’re now travelling north, with what Osmund and others in our band call the plains of Old Sarum on our western side. I’m confused by these Norsemen. They are now headed perhaps directly away from Wintancester, are they headed north into old Mercia? Our journey continues.



The first Monday of Lent

We’ve found why the norsemen have travelled north. They’ve set up defensive lines to our north and are preparing to make battle. We cannot see who with, whether it's Cynewulf of Wessex or my own king, Aethelred and we dare not approach the army. Instead we are making a large arc around the army hoping to join up with those that might attack them. We only number some twenty but still we are skilled fighters and some skilled archers. Hardened by chasing the pagans from Canterbury (though I have heard the heathens call it Kanteborg or Kanteskirk in their own tongue, I think, perhaps this means something else Kentish) all the way to the borders of Wessex.


The First Wednesday of Lent

The last two days have been like gazing into hell. Tuesday morning we arrived at the camp of King Cynewulf and presented ourselves before him. I saw West Saxons, South Saxons fled from their homes, likewise Meonwara and even Whitgar islanders in amongst his army. He dismissed our usefulness out of hand but gave us a place in his army but not any other weapons. We were placed at the far West end of his battle lines as the army prepared. We were at the north end of narrow valley that’d be difficult to go around, further down the valley was the viking army, lead by their leader, Sveyn, called The Pale by some. At one point I saw him, a tall broad man with a white-blonde beard and similar hair. By him was a standard bearing a large black bird painted on the fabric. Opposite him stood Cynewulf under a yellow dragon painted on a white flag.

When the battle began the “Wolves” moved forward in a spread out formation, hugging the shrubs and bushes that were scattered across the slopes of our western flank. Wulfestan and the other archers including Harald the poacher moved forward and took opportunistic shots at banner holders and anyone else who seemed important. The rest of us held back, waiting for them either to pass towards the main line or a group to break off to investigate us. This is what we had done at Laudenwic and although the Kentish army lost the day, the Wolves had drawn significant blood from the Norsemen.

After some time and with our archers running low a group broke off from the main line. Two dozen of them. Wulfestan immediately signalled for the archers to focus on them and to carry out a fighting retreat. The Viking followed them, breaking out almost into a run despite their thick cloaks and heavy armour. When they were close enough we broke cover and ran at them with a cry of "Remember Canterbury!" praying they were taken by surprise. As luck (or god's will) would have it, they seemed to be and soon enough my axe, taken from a fallen Norseman a few days before (replacing my long since broken woodsman’s axe), was slamming into the chest of a Norseman, driving him backwards to the ground. Osmund raised his shield, protecting my head from an arrow. I thanked him without looking back to him and brought my axe up again towards another target.

And so they day went on. We continued on from this group into the main battle line, attacking the flank of a group of Norsemen already facing one of Cynewulf’s Thegns. The battle was a bloody mess. Men fighting swinging left and right, I was barely able to distinguish Saxon from Viking. At one point a viking blocked my axe swing and brought his shield up into my face knocking me out. By the grace of God or by the kindness of the Wolves or some other Jute or Saxon I awoke several hours later, by which time the battle was over. Johanne had carried me from the battlefield. Saying “A small lady like you doesn't weigh a lot” and I was now further down the valley by the side of a flowing stream which was flowing red with blood.

The vikings won and have marched on towards Corencaester. King Cynewulf was killed during the battle. A fair few Saxons survived though and it would appear “Somerild’s Wolves” have a fair few more pack members. Im gathering my strength as I write and I can hear Osmund delivering a speech, would that we lived in the old republic of Rome, he would make a fine statesman. He is calling me over, so I shall finish writing now.

1. Chichester
   
   
2. Winchester
   
   
3. cirencester
   

 

[Bolt451]

(I’ve just realised I’ve passed the 300th anniversary of the PoD holy (lol, holy) crap!)
tbh, im not that happy with this bit and may yet re-write it, but here it is

Excerpts from
The Journals of Somerild Rite.
Translated from the old English by Edwin Sulis
As available from the Global Free Media Foundation


Saint Aidan’s Day

The book of Proverbs states that the Lord hates pride so I pray he may forgive me for today my heart swells at what I have seen today. Today we celebrated Saint Aidan’s day, the feast of the blessed Apostle of the Anglish and along with the King-Saints Oswald and Oswine. the father of our church. Indeed another sin was commited, that of thievery but given from whom it was I hope we can be forgiven. Last night under cover of cloud and night several Wolf packs grouped together and attacked a viking camp near a crossing of the Isk (1) and took their food and supplies. We found much more than the two dozen or so men at the camp needed so I believe (And hope) this was destined for the main army which is camped a day or so south of us. Perhaps this makes up for the sin of theft we have committed for t was first destined for Norse Pagans and secondly most likely taken from West Saxon Christians to begin with.

We celebrated, some more than others. I simply enjoyed my meal and lead our group in prayers. With all that has gone on this last year I must not forget I am still a sinner and a penitent and though I hope my deeds in defending Britain begin to make up for my crimes I am by no means done. Only the lord or my mother church may forgive me. Indeed, in fighting this war I have killed and in doing so broken another commandment and been wrathful. Though this wrath was aimed at enemies of the church. Perhaps now is not the time to dwell on things for I know before my time of penance is served I will commit them again.

Despite my misgivings and thoughts on my soul we celebrated saint Aidan’s feast and it was pleasing (and as i said before, prideful) to see such happiness on the faces of our gathered groups. I have not seen such happiness on their faces since before we came across what the Norsemen had done to the monastery at Sulis or perhaps even before the death of Cynewulf. So I hope the lord can forgive our pride for in celebrating we make ourselves better prepared in spirit to defend our Christian nations.



The Monday after Saint Aidans Day

We were taken by surprise today. We were lucky no one was attacked but after tracking the heathen army down the Isk towards Buckfast we found them turning and marching towards us! We scattered our forces and made cover as they past, knowing to face them head on would be suicide. Unsure of whether to pursuit them we instead traveled south to Buckfast, being a town around the abbey, seeking water and perhaps hoping to help the most likely ravaged town. Instead we found it intact or though in possession of a sizable army of West Saxons.

Being apparently the leader of a sizable army, and apparently with a reputation travelling in advance of the rest of me, I was taken before the new West Saxon King who introduced himself as Cuthred, nephew of the late Cynewulf. Having met his uncle a few months earlier I found that Cuthred gave the impression of a boy dressed as a king like a child with a stick plays at being a swordsman. As I was introduced he had an expression of pride and confidence on his face. “So you are the famous Wolf Sister!?” he said with mock incredulity.
“I have been called that, though I do not use that name,” I replied flatly. Before I have finished he continued “Well you and your pack,” mockery on this last word, “Are not needed here!”
“I see no evidence of your army being victorious, but you and your opponents seem unscathed,” he chuckled at this
“Exactly, No bloodshed, no one losing their life, especially not the king! Perhaps if my uncle had done this both he, my father and my cousin might still be walking around!”
“Done what?” I asked patiently,
“These Norsemen, they only come here for money and gold”
“Is that why they have placed a new king in Canterbury?” I interjected.
“Its is why they come to Wessex, and why they have left” he smiled “I gave them money and they left,”
“They left?” I inquired
“Exactly, they are leaving Wessex, trade will open up along the rivers and roads,”
“And they will return to Sussex, where they can ravage those lands,”
“That’s not my problem,”
“I may be a distant northerner but from what my friends have told me the King of Sussex, may god rest his soul, was sworn to your uncle,”
“And now he is dead!” he snapped “Both of them,”
“So the heathen army is unscathed, may travel north into Mercia,”
“Well then he’s your boy-king Aethelred’s problem, not mine, Anglishwoman” he said, this last word as a curse
“And I pray it does not come to this, but should Angland fail to stop Sveyn, what is to stop them returning for more?” he hesitated,
“We’ll give them more, and keep the peace!”
“And more? And more?” I replied, “until your fields are barren and your money's all gone,” he paused and So I left, not just the king but Buckfast, We gained a few new men, disgusted with their king or wanting revenge. Some I suggested head to Sulis or other towns ravage. I considered leaving the “Packs” and travelling to Sulis or to Glastonbury but I knew I was not welcome in any monastery or town around it (Indeed I had felt at ease even in the town of Buckfast) I was a killer, a committer of wrath, I was damned already and my soul tainted. So I would put this to a good use.

1. River Exe

 

[Bolt451]

The Museum of Anglish History, Laudenwic
Visitors guide
Part 3: the Early Kingdoms


On your right you can see several artefacts dating from 865. The first is various viking artefacts found in excavations not far from the museum in the North Bank area of Laudenwic. These are all viking in origin and given the area and depth at which they were found date them to two possible dates. The first is when Sveyn the Pale and the first Viking Army attacked Laudenwic and may come from vikings killed in the attack on the town. It is unknown if Sveyn crossed the Thames and so the location of the burials suggest they come from two years later when Harkon Blackheart crossed the Thames and captured Laudenwic. Landing earlier that year, Harkon attacked Laudenwic on his way to Essex and later East Anglia

The second is a preserved piece of vellum (prepared animal skin used for writing) found in the records of Colchester Monastary. Dating has placed it to the ninth century so it is quite incredible the vellum has survived at all. It is believe monks at Colchester were forced by Harkon to write this, most likely to be read by monks and other learned peoples to the people of the territories that Harkon had conquered

It is written in old Anglish and reads as follows

“I, Harkon of the Danes, do by right of conquest, claim the thrones of the East Saxons and East Angles as well as the Kingdoms of Kent and Sussex and unify them under my rule. Hence forth these territories shall be called the Daneland. All who live within those borders, if you obey our laws, we shall leave you alone,”

This declaration put Harkon at odds with Sveyn as before this point, Sveyn had been happy to put puppet kings on the thrones of those nations he had attacked. In declaring himself king Harkon claimed superiority to Sveyn. Next on your left you will see the evidence of the consequences of this declaration.



Excerpts from
The Journals of Somerild Rite.
Translated from the old English by Edwin Sulis
As available from the Global Free Media Foundation

Third Wednesday of Lent, 865

We find ourselves much as we did a year before. Once again the Norse army wintered in Chichester and once again they have headed north, soon passing where the West Saxons were defeated near Corancaester. We have been carrying out one or two raiding attacks on any food coming from Sussex and Kent but they are also taking food from local saxon villages as they travel and we have not done so for a fortnight. So we continue north, shadowing them. I feel somewhat helpless.


Third Thursday of Lent:

Let no man call me a hero, let no man call me a strategist but perhaps you may call us blessed by God and yet damned by the devil. Our travel north in pursuit of the Heathen army lead us ambushing the vikings. Our lack of action seems to have lead the Norsemen to believe we had given up our attacks or perhaps we stopped at the borders of Wessex. So today as we traveled the same road they had hours before, as we scaled yet another hill in the old land of the Gewisse we saw before us a battle and I thanked god for our luck.

I would later work out from those that survived that Thegn Eeomer, the King representative in Glecaster blocked the army’s approach towards the city using what time they had to build simple walls and barricades against the vikings and in particular the horses they had taken from Kent and Sussex. When we arrived we could see that the vikings greatly outnumbered the Anglish army and it was disheartening that this was my first view of my home nation in two year. Indeed I was, in part, hesitant to head down the hill and cross the borders back into Angland but seeing my countrymen dying I silently said a prayer and made my way down. Quietly as possible. As before we began picking off the vikings with our bows and for the first time I joined them, putting my training over the winter into use. We targetted the easier and the most important targets and soon the Norse army began to seem confused as men at their rear began to fall and a significant portion of their number turned to face us at which point we began retreating further up the hill, rear elements of our force (which numbered around a hundred) covered us while we set up to defend against the Norse counter attack while my countrymen cheered as the Norse army panicked and went on the defensive in both directions

From our vantage point our hearts broken as we saw a second army, not much smaller than that of the Anglish defenders move around the city of Glecaster and attack the vulnerable rear of the Anglanders much as we had done to the Norsemen. It wasn’t until later when we saw one of the (few) members of this new army to fall that we realised what had happened. Athrys Ap Tewdrig, King of Gwent had apparently allied with Sveyn the Norseman and crossed the Severn and attacked Eomer’s forces. It was a slaughter and I pray souls killed in such a way will find rest.

Locals say the British forces have captured the city and the crossing of the Severn that comes with it. One of the men has mused that Glecaster and all lands between here and the Wye, but these are words I don’t understand. Meanwhile I am writing this from a friendly farm in the village of Brocwurthin (2) near the battlefield. I can hear crows settling on the field and bonepickers plying their gruesome trade. Some survivors say horsemen were sent to inform other Anglish Thegns and eventually the King in Dunholm. I pray he marches south with all the force of my mother country behind him and drives these two foes into the Severn.

1. Hastings
   
   
2. Brockworth, Gloucestershire.

 

[Bolt451]

Excerpts from

The Journals of Somerild Rite.
Translated from the old English by Edwin Sulis
As available from the Global Free Media Foundation

The Day following The Assumption of the Virgin Mary.
Written in the north of the Anglish Region of Lindsay, on the Isle of Axea

Our enemies hesitation as well as their being harried by my countrymen as the Vikings push north through Lindsay and towards Deira mean that we have circumnavigated their forces and are ahead of them. We are now torn, do we continue north in hopes of meeting with my King Aethelred or do we continue to harry the enemy.

Exhausted by traversing bog and marsh we have found a friendly resting place in the village of Haxey on the Isle of dry land called Axea(1). We arrived yesterday and were welcomed to the Assumption day celebrations by the village. With the viking army lying between here and the monastery of Lindun the village has not recieved a visit from monk nor preacher for a few weeks. They were grateful to see me, being a member of the church of sorts. I perhaps thought they were not familiar with the concept of a pennant and as such mistook me for a nun or preacher. When explaining this, I was met with a “You are tasked with spreading gods word?” I nodded
“And you are remaining here for the night?”
I nodded again, adding “if you’re willing,”
“Then spread gods word here!”
I was flattered and explained that another member of our particular Pack, Arlyss, was a preacher who was not with sin and would be more appropriate. Still I quietly attended the service at the village altar. A small stone platform under an oak and straw archway. Sinner or none, I am still a Christian of the Lindisfarne faith and I must carry myself as such. Though I did not attend celebrations after we gave thanks.

Another Pack arrived in the village with late that night grave news. The army of Sveyn the pale seeks to combine with the army of Harkon, the conqueror of Lindsay and the East Saxons who has been gathering ships and other water worthy craft to cross the Humber Estuary. I can only pray that King Aethelred is waiting for them.

Two Days after Assumption Day

Our prayers for guidance were answered as a local farmer from nearby Belton returning from Eorforwic informed us that the king has gathered his armies on the north of the Ouse and is heading south and then seeks to strike Lindun from the West. Though due to the time taken to cross the smaller rivers that become the Humber, this information is a few days out of date. The king has already begun his march south. I fear that the north of the Humber and perhaps Eorforwic will be undefended or at least be lacking in manpower.

Several of our men have headed north and west to seek out the kings army, to tell him to prepare his defenses north of the Humber. I hope the arrive in time.

Four days after Assumption day

While half our men have sought out the king we’ve not been idle. Should Axea be used as a stepping stone across the marshes we have fortified the settlements on the island.

Many on the Isle have spoken of vengeance for their conquered Lindsay Paul to the Romans springs to mind ““Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God, for it is written, “Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.” but these heathens have destroyed the houses and homes of god on Earth as well as his servants. Does this then become Justice. I discussed this in a quiet moment with Arlyss. In my moment of doubt he reminded me of the book of Isiah “Learn to do right; seek justice. Defend the oppressed.Take up the cause of the fatherless; plead the case of the widow.” and reminded me that we’ve seen many made widow or wifeless and many made fatherless or child. I was reassured and he exhorted from the Book of Psalms “Blessed are those who act Justly, who always do what is right,” with this I resolved to fight hard for the lord.

Before dawn on of the fourth day, we set off from Axea east along the Humber, taking paths known only to locals to get us close to the gathering viking fleet. Here we picked out the picket lines with arrows and made our way as close in to the camp as we thought possible and put the camp to the torch. It was in doing this that some vikings located us and we lost two men before retreating into the marshes. The damage done was significant and we sighted several ships catching fire. I hope we have sapped their numbers some.

I am writing this having helped lay my fallen kin to rest. My thoughts and prayers turn to my other kin, bringing their message to King Aethelred. From what we observed the viking fleet cannot be far from ready.




A Tourist's Guide to Angland
Global Print Books, 2014
by Amit Dileep


Excerpt from
Chapter 5: Deira

Little remains to show the location of the Battle of Surcaf. Actually some two miles west of the village of Surcaf (2), itself South West of the city of Beverley and west of the industrial port of Hullmouth (3). The location is mostly known from the many finds found by metal hunters and archeologists throughout the centuries. There is a large Oak on the site (which is now mostly farmland) called Aethelreds Oak which according to local legend is the site of Aethelred’s battle lines.

The Battlefield was a fairly straight forward and bloody slog. Having been warned of the Viking army crossing the Humber Aethelred’s army turned back from its march south to Lindun and sought to place itself on the edge of the marshes that mark the border between Deira and Lindsay and in turn between the vikings and the local capital of Eorforwic. Aethelred arrived as the vikings were disembarking from crossing the Humber Estuary and fearing they would instead push north to Beverley (see page 128) they did not pause and quickly brought he battle to the vikings. Modern historians that based on contemporary accounts and many of the finds found on the battlefield, the Viking army was only at most two thirds of the entire viking force in Angland at the time and mostly numbering from Sveyns army (being the first to land in Angland, see pages 88 and 176) With the confluence of the Ouse and the Trent on their East flank the exhausted Anglish army fought the outnumbered vikings, led by their leader Sveyn the pale and forced a retreat at significant cost to their own forces. With the Humber (And potentially the Nordic Sea) to their rear, many of the viking army (Sveyn included) retreated and returned back across the Humber, losing several hundred men and several ships in the retreat. It was only after his retreat that Sveyn found that Harkon had orchestrated the crossing of the Humber quite specifically.

Finds from the battlefield can be seen in the museum of Anglish history in Laudenwic but more locally at the City Museum, Beverley. Local attractions include the Battlefield memorial in Suthcaf village centre and the Battle’s End pub, also in the village. Suthcaf is served by bus and rail routes.


Excerpt from
Chapter 6: Lindsay

The Town of Barton, lying as it does on the south of the Humber Bridge has many grim place names such as Bloodsands road, Traitor’s Gate and Blackheart Water. These all can be traced back to Autumn 865 and the fallout from the Battle of Suthcaf (See Page 103) where the army of Sveyn the pale was defeated by King Aethelred and retreated back across the Humber. Many stories have been passed down over the years. Many associated with the folk hero Somerild Rite, despite no evidence of her even existing, let alone being at the event. Most stories describe how upon reaching the south bank of the Humber, Sveyn found that Harkon had remained behind with a significant portion of the Viking army instead of crossing with Sveyn and when they were defeated, Harkon demanded they swear loyalty to him as King of the Daneland or be driven into the Humber. Sveyn demanded vengeance against Harkon but his forces were exhausted and many were badly wounded whereas Harkon’s force was fresh and in a defendable position. Its believe much of the exhausted army swore loyalty to Harkon and when Sveyn and a core of loyal followers refused they were killed to a man on the banks of the Humber, earning Harkon the epiphet “Blacheart” and Although many viking remains have been found as Barton has expanded, none have been identified as the betrayed Sveyn.



(1) Axeholme, havent you missed my butchering of Old English and Norse

(2) South Cave, Yorkshire

(3) Kingston Upon Hill. Natch.

 

[Bolt451]

Excerpts from

The Journals of Somerild Rite.
Translated from the old English by Edwin Sulis
As available from the Global Free Media Foundation

Absolvence Day, 866
Axea, Humbeside

Winter is finally coming to an end. The marshes are thawing and returning to their former,hellish selves, just as our foes are surely waking up from their cold slumber and the lord’s glory is returning to the land. May it bring victory, justice and the end to heathens. A few days ago we had a few new arrivals from the north side of the Don to Gairulf’s farm. They say, though we only have their word, the king seeks to strike at Lindun and drive the Vikings from Angland before marching south. First to liberate first the lands of the East Angles, Alfred the King of whom I am told is the brother by marriage of Aethelred by his elder sister.

With this news we are preparing to head south along the north shore of the Humber, much as we did before the vikings crossed north. We shall bring as much wrath as we can to make the heathens think we bring the force of the King’s army itself


Five days later

Axea

The south of the Humber is scarred with the wounds of our blades but I fear it is for nothing. We set off from Axea before dawn on the first day of lent, crossing the Trent into what some would call Daneland but which, in my heart and in the minds of all good Christianity is and shall be Lindsay. We put camps and heathen temples alike to the torch and reclaimed much which was taken from Christian altars in the hopes of returning it to its rightful place when this land is liberated.

The people if Lindsay support us. When we could not find a place to camp or return home we were sheltered by local people who had not or could not flee north. Some returned with us to Axea. We faced and slew many vikings and though we lost several their deaths were not in vain.

We capture stores and put buildings to the torch at Barton, where Sveyn the pale’s body lay barely cold in the ground and I led some fifty or moremen east to Barrow then down the old roman road to Stamford where we were awaited and we engaged in the perhaps the closest thing to a battle we’ve faced since we left Wessex. Outside the simple walls of Stamford we faced twice our number in vikings who we whittled down with hails of practiced archery before I led our centre into a charge. My axe found its mark on a dozen heathens before I faced their Thegn, a man with flaming red beard patterned wth beads and the hair on his head sharpened with lime into a long narrow ridge. He swung at me with his sword which was buried in the haft of my axe. As he tried to pull it free he pulled both from our hands and they landed some distance away. Without pause I brought my hands up to protect myself and my left foot up into his side. He was stunned by this. I kicked him again before backing off. Angrily he roared and beat his chest and ran at me, bringing his boot up so high it would’ve hit me in the face if it weren’t for my ducking out the way. Another run at him as he pivoted round to face me, I silently prayed and brought my knee up with a leap and connected with his jaw. As he stumbled back, an arrow found him in the chest and fell him.

After the battle, Egbert the archer admitted the arrow that fell the ridged man and apologised for taking my kill. I waved him away. “I do not know if that would be greed or pride but I do not seek glory. We all face the same foe and fight for the same cause

Exhausted and many bloody we retreated to Axea. taking many with villagers, facing minimal counter attacks. It would seem we were successful in defeating the Danes in the area but another thought came over me. What of those men who would defend here had gone south to face the approaching army of the king. I prayed they were not aware of Aethelred’s attack.

I would later find that Indeed the king had faced the Norsemen. Having crossed the Trent at Niweorc (1) The king faced the so-called Dane-landers not far west of Lindun. The battle was long and bloody and I hope that our efforts made it easier for the king. However despite what positive effect I hoped we had the king was defeated and retreated back into Mercia. What small mercy granted to Angland was that my countrymen drew so much blood from the vikings that they did not pursuit, instead

We have had some men defeated at Lindun flee north into the marshes around Axea where they were found by our scouts and taken here. Some seek to rejoin the king at perhaps Repton or Tamworig. Others have said they will remain here to continue our fight. Our pack grows and so do my hopes of eventual victory. Now the light grows dim and so I shall attend to evening prayers

1. Newark, Nottinghamshire
   

 

[Bolt451]

Transcript of “Auction on the Move”
Series 15 Episode 2: “Shiefdora”



Oswine Burhton is sat at a table speaking to a member of the public. The table is outside and behind them you can see several other similar tables as well as crowds gathered around each. Beyond them are the stone walls of Shief castle. Burhton is handling a metal token about the size of his palm

Oswine: So, Eldrida tell us how you acquired this fascinating object.

Eldrida: Well, it's been in my family for at least two generations. My father told me that his father in turn found it while out walking as a boy, growing up in Donnacastra and he passed it to him and so on.

Oswine: It is interesting that you mention Donnacastra, so your family are local.

Eldrida: As far as I know, yes

Oswine: And do you know what this is and when it's from

Eldrida: We figured it was a coin of some sort. Though it seems a bit big for something like a Shilling or a Libra. I figured it was medieval given its worn state

Oswine: Well you’re half right.. It's not quite a coin, it's a token of sorts and it's a bit older. Actually back to the ninth century.

Eldrida gasps

Oswine: This is a workman’s token back from the construction of the original castles in southern Deira. See you can see a face just about and the old Anglish for “Aethelred” being Aethelred the Great

Oswine points out the writing

Oswine: At the time Angland was at war with the Great Army of the vikings and the border between Angland and the Viking Daneland was just south of here. To prevent the vikings taking the route between the Humber and the Hrybeorgs he built three forts. One of which was just behind us. Of course it's since been rebuilt, but still. Now, it's interesting that he found this in Donnacastra because the third fort was built there, just outside the current city center. It was destroyed in the 15th century so items from that area may have been scattered about but that's idle speculation. There are a hundred different ways it could’ve been lost.

Eldrida is starting to look a bit bored

Oswine: Sorry, this token would’ve been given to one of the workers building the fort at Donnacastra. Its simple Iron to limit wealth and precious metals being stored. Now it was hoped this would minimise the chances of the vikings raiding the construction sites. This token would’ve been presented at the beginning and end of each day in exchange for a meal.

Oswine turns it over. There’s a faint number on the back.

Oswine: if you look here it shows number seventeen. Now this number would be ticked off for each meal so no one would claim a meal without working. These tokens would occasionally have to be presented to guards while the men worked

Eldrida: Oh wow

Oswine: I’m quite impressed it's in such amazing condition given its age. Now, the bit you’re waiting for. At Auction with the right buyer this could reach up to ten thousand Libra

Eldrida: I… I, wow.

 

[Bolt451]

OOC: really not happy with this! but here goes.

Excerpts from
The Journals of Somerild Rite.
Translated from the old English by Edwin Sulis
As available from the Global Free Media Foundation


Second Monday of Lent, 867

There is an uneasiness around the camp. The farmers and such who have been here these past few years have in turn been reinforced by soldiers defeated at Lindun or others who have heard of our cause and crossed the marshes from the north. Many of these men and women are angry and have hearts full of vengeance. As I have felt before and some turn to me to calm them. Without my consent I have become a figure of authority and faith. This latter troubles me as I am, in my heart a sinner, as yet unforgiven by my mother church. Still they turn to me. This night I travelled to the alter on the northern shore and prayed for guidance. The Lord was silent

As spring arrives, more reinforce our numbers and with them, news. The King once again seeks to drive a knife into the heart of the Norsemen. It is rumoured he seeks to cross the Cilterns (1) and either south to cut Whitgar and Sussex from Kent or east towards Laudenwic and onto the viking capital of Kanteskirk. Many of the men say this is risky, if the king is aware that the might of the viking army winters to our south at Lindun then perhaps he hopes to catch them off guard but if he goes too far without drawing them out he might expose his flank.

Meanwhile life on the Isle continues. As spring comes, crops are being sewn and animals are being taken out of houses into fields. Its a good sight and brings some warmth to our angry flock.


Second Tuesday of Lent

News has come to us which warms our hearts and reminds us of our rightous course. A trader though of ill repute (he came to us with wares taken from dead vikings still remaining on the north bank of the Humber) brings us news that an army of my countrymen has taken Glecaster from the British army that took it. Once again the monastary there turns to Glastonbury and Lindisfarne instead of distant Rome. While I do not wish great misery upon fellow Christians, Papal as they may be, they allied with the heathen vikings in their quest for vengeance against percieved slights carried out by my countrymen.


Second Wednesday of Lent

Many of the soldiers have been training hard and today parades through the south market, raising the spirits of all there. They are a strange bunch, I thought as I watched and applauded. No man entirely alike. With improvised or repaired weapons, never a full suit of matching armour. Many carry bows and travel light but there is also a strong core of shieldbearers who can take the fight to the enemy as those lighter pick their chance to strike. Dare I say I am proud of them? I indeed have helped them and I know they look to me. It was a strange moment to look back at my journey from baker’s daughter to sinner to soldier. I look at my strong arms and broad shoulders, dashed with scars. Once again I pray for guidance. Once again I am left wanting. Tomorrow I shall lend my hand to the farm instead of the soldier and find some purpose.



Palm Sunday, 867.

The king is on the march, his army is said to have left Repton a week or so again heading south East. This area of the border while uneven is not heavily enforced by either side so I hope he shall make it to the Thames Valley before the Norsemen commit.


The Monday before Easter, 867

Voices on the Island are calling for action. To relieve pressure on the Kings army, and if not then to at least bloody the Norsemen. It is suggested we, our smal army, march on Lindun, defeating viking garisons wherever we go. In fact so many are behind the idea, even if calmer voices are heard, they will be left behind

So we march on Lindun, to cause chaos for our foe. I pray we are successful. If this entry is my last, then I hope this diary is informative to those who remain



1st sunday after Easter

I return to Axea bloody and bruised. Of our 450, 300 remain, many injured. Two days after my last entry. We crossed the swamps slowly. Our numbers too swollen to sneak quickly in and out as we did when first arriving. We went first to Barton, then south to Brigg. Conquered but spirited Anglanders cheered us on and informed us that the Norse King Harkon indeed headed south to face my king Aethelred. We found his soldiers lacking, the strongest and boldest men gone to face the Great Army of Angland, leaving their garrisons exposed to this army of Angland.

We approached Lindun by night and a group of us snuck inside the city as hidden guests of citizens of Lindsay. Once inside our main force gave battle. They had built pyres near the city in the opposite side to our approach, launched flaming arrows into the city and created much noise. They never gave much battle though I know the blood of many of the soldiers yearned for it. For a night and into the day they would fight any sally forth from the norsemen with wooden stakes and concentrated volley fire.

Meanwhile, the core of the Wolfpack, those of us who’d four at Cerancaester, Laudenwick Repton and across the country headed into the city, Once snuck inside we took what useful supplies and indeed people we could. We took artefacts from desecrated altars and wayshrines to be used for their true Christian purpse. Despite the best attempts to distract the guards as dawn came we faced norsemen across the city. Fighting building to blood stained building we took food and weapons and when the time was ready we captured the north gate of the simple wooden wall around the city and headed north on foot, horse and cart. My only regrets and guilts are that I did not take more people with us and that we had to retreat before we could reach the Monastery at Lindun's heart.

We return victorious, or at least successful. Much of the city fled with us into the marsh. Many head onto Angland for safety but many stay with us. Our numbers grow and so do our hopes and yet my prayers are for those left in Lindun.


2nd Monday after Easter.

Saddening news. The kings army has been defeated in the Cilterns. My king misplaced the Viking army which flanked the Angland army and picked the ground on which they faced my countrymen. With these damaging odds the king fought on nonetheless. My king retreats to Tamoworig, bloodied but standing.

With this latest defeat I fear for the so called Daneland. King Harkon reigns undefeated.


Still, my fight goes on. To liberation and, I pray, redeption

 

[Bolt451]

Somerild Rite: Fact and Fiction
East Angland Books, 2009


While most of the events covered in The Journals of Somerild right are proven historical events, there is no evidence that she as an individual was involved or even existed. There are accounts that are often obviously proven as fictional, and in the case of “Somerild Rite and the Worm of Rheged” completel mythological.

The latter days of Rite are covered in the accounts of Torvalds Magnussen, a Danish convert to Anglish Christianity who became a companion of Rites some fifteen years after the last entry of Rite’s own journal and the retreat from Axea. These are similar in nature to Rite’s Journals in that they cover historical events but there’s no proof of his individual involvement. Dating of copies of his journals has found that the earliest remaining copy dates to the 17th Century, two centuries later than even The Journals of Somerild Rite. The writing covers the period some ten to fifteen years after Rite’s own journals began during the period when there was an vague piece between Angland, Wessex and Daneland save for the odd raid or minor offensive.



The Letters of Torvald Magnussen

As printed by Global press, 2016

1st Sunday of Lent,


Today we arrived in the city of Glecaster. We had travelled from Cerancaester with a priest who is based within the monastery at Glecaster. He had been going from town to town preaching at each settlements altars. We had joined him with some of our more spiritually qualified and experienced assisting him in services. Poor weather meant some of the more remote settlements had not had a priest come to read or give blessings for some weeks and so when each Sabbath came they’d make do on their own. Now they not only had a priest but their congregation swelled by over a dozen! Each service was filled with energy and I truly felt the love of my adopted Christian community. Often Aeldric would read from his bible, especially when none in the village had skill with letters. The bible is almost at the end of its service to the word of God, its binding has almost collapsed and the pages are ripped and torn. He has carried it for some ten years since leaving his home city of Lindun, fleeing the advancing Danes. After five days of spreading the word of Christ we arrived at the great city.

Glecaster is still more or less in the same shape as the old Roman fort it once was with square walls and four gates leading to a central cross. There are very few buildings outside the walls, save for farms and a few houses. The walls have been more recently been rebuild following the recapture of the city from the Britons five summers ago. Wood and stone have plugged where the old walls have begun to crumble. The monastery is in the north west of the city and we travelled there from the easy gate. Many of those gathered cheered for us, recognising our nature and what we did. Some as at Cerancaester and Tamworig recognised Somerild, who politely recognised their cheers but even now is uneasy with praise and respect, even when she has earned it. Glecaster monastery is smaller than those at Tamworig or many others we have travelled to, as it is constrained by the old roman walls. Given the alte time of day we were given beds in the pilgrims quarters as I suppose we were. As always, Somerild slept outside the monastery's buildings despite the monks saying she had earned her bed. She reminded them “I have not carried out her penance, I have not been forgiven,” The Brother Superior said he would arrange an audience between Somerild and the Bishop tomorrow morning. In the meanwhile we attended evening prayers at the great altar within the Abbey with the priests and townspeople. Paintings of the Saints Oswald and Aidan watched over us as did a great wooden carving of Christ at the last supper. The jump from the simple stone and wood altars of the villages to here was dramatic to say the least.

The next morning, the audience with the Bishop was delayed and we feared he would not see us. Eventually he invited us in, meeting us simply in the monk’s eating hall. He apologised for the delay. Somerild began her speech imploring the Bishop to support an Anglish offensive into Daneland as she had done so at Hexham, Tamworig and various others, when she was interrupted by the bishop. He informed us that one of his returning priests had encountered many folk fleeing north from the Wessex city of Sulis. The folk (though I wondered the veracity of a third hand story) had spoken of a Viking army heading west. Rather than listen further to Somerilds arguments requested that we, as free folk and not obviously tied to the crown of king Aethelred would not provoke any response from Wessex. Somerild argued her point but the bishop countered, saying “We cannot strike at our foe if we do not know its location,” So as quickly as we had arrived we were given rations and filled our water skins. We were now joined Wulfred, a soldier of the Thegn of Glecaster, who would travel with us at the Thegns representative. We said our prayers at the monastery and left, as quickly as we had arrived.