THE PALADINS OF EDWIN THE GREAT

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THE PALADINS OF EDWIN THE GREAT BY SIR CLEMENTS R. MARKHAM, K.C.B. NEW EDITION LONDON ADAM AND CHARLES BLACK 1908

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First published September 1896. Reprinted August 1901. New Edition September 1908.

CONTENTS

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PART I.—HOME

PART II.—EXILE

PART III.—WORK

ILLUSTRATIONS By Ralph Peacock

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PREFACE

Very little is known for certain of one of the most important events in the history of the world, the coming of the Englishmen to England. It took a long time, fully a century, from 450 A.D. to 550 A.D., and they came constantly, in small detachments for the most part, landing on the coast, in all directions, from the Forth to the Isle of Wight. They came amidst the ruins of the mighty Roman Empire, a new race of empire–founders, with all the germs of a still mightier future.

The new–comers from the older Angeln or England, now called Sleswig, came in the greatest numbers. We know not why, but it certainly was a wholesale movement. They kept launching their small fleets of dragon ships, and crossing the North Sea with their gods, their door–posts, and their beautiful golden–haired wives and children, until none were left. They brought with them all the[Pg 2] deep religious feeling, all the imaginative mythology, all the heroic tales of the old land. They first disembarked on the coast between the Forth and the Tees, driving back the natives into Strathclyde, after a struggle which lasted for many years. Among them came Ida the son of Eoppa, with twelve sons, in forty dragon ships full of English warriors. He founded the castle of Bambrough on the coast, which was at first surrounded with a hedge and afterwards with a wall; and in 547 A.D. he became king of the country of Bernicia, between the Forth and the Tees. Ida was surnamed the "Flame–bearer." He reigned for twelve years in Bernicia, when Ethelric his son succeeded him.

Many more warriors landed on the coast between the Tees and the Humber; and in 559 A.D. their Eolderman, named Ella, the son of Iffi, the son of Wuscfrea, and twelfth in descent from Woden, became king of the more southern Northumbrian kingdom of Deira.

When they were settled in their kingdom of Deira, with Ella as their king, and Elfric his brother as their leader in war, the sea–rovers[Pg 3] became farmers, ready to defend their possessions and to fight for the acquisition of more territory for their countrymen. They were the ceorls or freemen assembling in communities of families, within a boundary or mark, and known by a common name with the addition of the patronymic ing. The ceorl owned a hide of land, bore arms, had a vote, and took part in the thing, or general assembly of his mark. The union of marks formed a wapentake (Vopnatak), from the custom of touching the chief's spear in token of fealty. The union of Wapentakes formed the Scire or Shire with its Shire–mót. The Ceorl was the freeman, while the Eorl was the nobleman or chief in peace and war, and the Eolderman was a prince of the family of the Cyning (from cyne, generous) or king, who wore the cynehelm or circlet of gold.

The Englishmen came with their immemorial gods, and their grand old traditions. Woden was their All–father and Creator, Thor the mighty enemy of giants and trolls, Tyr the god of war. They invoked Balder the bright and fair of aspect; Freyr, who presided over rain and sunshine; Niord, who[Pg 4] ruled the winds; Ægir, god of the ocean; and many more. "Our forefathers derived comfort in affliction, support in difficulty, from the belief that the gods watched over them. They bent in gratitude for the blessings they conferred, and were guided and directed in the daily business of life by the conviction of their responsibility to higher powers than any which they recognised in the world around them." A religious feeling was the basis of their respect for law—of their loyalty, of their free institutions, and of those customs and habits of thought which were the foundation–stones of the edifice of English liberty. These old warriors brought with them to their new homes all those germs which were fertilised by their virtues, and watered with

the life–blood of their valour, until, in the course of centuries, they grew up to form the greatest nation this earth has ever seen, a fruitful and beneficent tree, spreading its branches far and wide round the world.

It was, in all probability, not Ella and Elfric, nor their war–comrades Seomel and Brand, Vidfinn and Guthlaf, who first crossed the sea from Angeln; for it must have[Pg 5] taken two or three generations to establish the English firmly in Northumbria, and their grandfathers were the original invaders. They found the country desolate, and for the most part waste. The Roman roads traversed the moors and forests, and formed causeways over the swamps, but the stations were abandoned and ruinous. There was scarcely any cultivation. Vast tracts were covered with forests, the haunts of wild cattle and red–deer, of boars and badgers, of wolves and wild–cats. It was in truth the "Deira" or land of wild animals. The ponds and marshes were frequented by myriads of wild–fowl, and few had ever penetrated into the hidden recesses of the wildernesses. By very slow degrees, amidst wars and disturbance, the English began to change the whole face of the country. The first beginnings were in the days of Ella and Elfric, when defensible homesteads were built, land

was apportioned, and laws began to be obeyed.

On the death of Ella in 588 his son Edwin fled before Ethelric King of Bernicia, who conquered Deira, but, after the death of Ethelric, Edwin took heart and not only[Pg 6] reconquered his own kingdom of Deira but Bernicia also, and united them both in one great kingdom of Northumbria.

The history of the early struggles into existence of any of the peoples who, in later centuries, have formed the nations of modern Europe is unfortunately so obscure that it can only furnish us with a mere general outline of the course of events.

Occasionally, however, the record of a short period is found, like an oasis in a desert, which is full of most interesting details. The welcome narrative abruptly begins, and as suddenly ends, pleasing the reader with anecdotes, speeches, estimates of character, and other precious materials for history. There is a very remarkable example of this in Bede's invaluable work. Nothing can be more tantalising than the extremely meagre character of the accounts that have been preserved of the leaders of the people, the makers of England, as Mr. Green called them, during the Heptarchy, the all–important period when England was made. But there is one striking exception. When the venerable monk of Jarrow reaches the period of Edwin of Northumbria[Pg 7] his narrative somehow has fresh life and vigour breathed into it, and the following half–century receives the same welcome treatment. We see real progress being made in the civilisation of the country and the condition of the people, which, though checked, was not put a stop to even by the desolating invasions of Penda and Cadwalla.

One eagerly looks for the causes both of the increased life in Bede's narrative and of this remarkable period of sudden progress. The full details furnished for Edwin's history are so exceptional that the circumstance was discussed by Dr. Giles, the editor of Bohn's edition of Bede. He considers it to be clear that Bede must have had access to highly valuable materials, for his details are too minute in themselves and too accurately defined to have been derived by him from tradition only.

The phenomena of the history of Edwin's reign are, however, far more interesting than any question relating to Bede's materials. We find a man who had passed his life in exile, and under every disadvantage, suddenly developing into a most efficient ruler and giving vigour and direction to every branch of his administration.[Pg 8] But this is not all. He is found assuming ensigns of sovereignty, adopting measures and undertaking expeditions of a character not at all in accordance with what could possibly be expected from a sovereign of any state in the English Heptarchy of that period.

There is one natural way of accounting for the various problems connected with Edwin's life–story, and especially with his reign. The presence of a bigoted and very timid Roman monk, like Paulinus, in attendance on his Queen, will in no way explain them. Edwin caused a chronicle of his labours to be written; he assumed ensigns only known at the court of the Emperor; he provided for the convenience of travellers in a way only practised in the East; he equipped a fleet for the subjugation of distant islands; he established order in a way so effectual that no organisation known in the England of the seventh century could have enforced it.

Edwin was a man of great ability, it must be conceded, but this will not account for the introduction of measures so at variance with the ideas and habits of the governments of[Pg 9] the Heptarchy at that time. One explanation covers all the ground. It is quite possible that, owing to a very extraordinary combination of circumstances, certain countrymen of Edwin may have had rare opportunities of visiting the distant regions of the then known world, of studying many things in many climes, and that, after years of absence, they may have returned home. Surrounded by such men as his friends and ministers, the history of his reign is made perfectly clear. A hint here and there even enables us to guess who some of these great men were. History, in that age, usually gives us a mere skeleton. Bede, fortunately, in the case of the illustrious Northumbrian Bretwalda and his people, gives us much more, but not nearly enough. Following the venerable historian closely and exactly, it is not an unworthy aspiration to fill up the blanks, and to present these

workers in the making of England as living and moving beings. Even we, at this distance of time, may owe them something. All the seeds that they scattered so perseveringly and so earnestly, and with such loving care for their country and its welfare, cannot have[Pg 10] fallen among thorns or on rocky ground. It is such considerations which have given rise to this attempt to tell the strange and romantic story of the Paladins of King Edwin the Great.

C. R. M.

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PART I

HOME

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CHAPTER I

STILLINGFLEET

The sacred ash tree spread its wide leafy branches over the court of the Stillingas. On one side of this court was the long hall, built of timber, with quaintly–carved joists and gables, on two others were the barns and cattle–sheds, the whole being surrounded by a stiff quickset hedge concealing the view of the open country. This ash was not only sacred from its size and antiquity, and as an emblem of the ash tree of Yggdrasil, but it also had an elf hole through which children could be passed, a peculiarity possessed by no other ash for miles around. Six children were dancing joyously round the tree one bright summer afternoon 1300 years ago, and making the whole place resound with merry laughter. The eldest was twelve years of age, a sturdy, straight–limbed boy named Coelred, the[Pg 14] eldest son of Seomel, the warrior chief of the Stillingas. He had blue eyes and a sunburnt little face, with masses of brown hair falling over his shoulders. His brother Porlor, two years his junior, was a bright child with a dreamy, thoughtful look in his

eyes when at rest, and a strong little frame fit for sustained work even at that early age. Their companion, Hereric, numbering the same years as Porlor, was an inch taller, and his hair was golden and glistened as the sun's rays rested on it. He was a young prince, son of the warrior Elfric, the brother of Ella the king of Deira. His little brother Osric was only three years of age. The four boys had two girls for playfellows—Bergliot, the golden–haired princess, aged six years, and Braga, or Bragaswith, the little sister of Coelred and Porlor. Ella, the king, lived at Aldby with his queen and his daughter, the princess Alca, aged sixteen, and the new–born prince Edwin, the hope of Deira. Elfric was established at the Aldwark, the remains of the imperial palace within the walls of Eburacum, or Eoforwic (York), as the English then called it. But he was a widower, and his children were generally at Stillingfleet, under the care of the gentle wife of Seomel, the British lady Volisia. Elfric himself was also a frequent visitor, to consult with Seomel,

his friend and companion in arms, over the affairs of the frontier.

DANCING ROUND THE SACRED ASH

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On that bright summer afternoon the Lady Volisia sat on a bench by the carved door–post of the hall, her baby–girl Nanna asleep by her side. She was tall and slim, with a slightly aquiline nose and soft brown eyes. She watched the happy group round the ash tree, a gentle smile lighting up her face as she bent again over her work. It consisted of a bright–coloured scarf to which she was attaching tassels. Presently the children left off dancing and began passing each other through the elf hole. It was said to bring luck, but it was too rough a game for the little ones, so the lady called the children to come round her, and told them that they should play the chance game for the scarf. This was one of the most ancient of all Teutonic games. Every child held the edge of the scarf with both hands. One was chosen to say a well–known spell, touching a hand at each word, and the[Pg 16] hand on which the last word fell was dropped out. The spell was then repeated as often as necessary, and the owner of the last hand left won the game. Twelve small hands held the

scarf, and the Princess Bergliot said the spell.

Thus it ran:

The final "ut" came to Hereric the Atheling, but he presented the scarf, with all the ardour of a lover of ten years old, to his little playmate Braga. At the moment that the happy and smiling child received it, a horn was heard in the distance, and all ran at full speed to the gateway left in the line of the defensive hedge. Coelred, the eldest, was allowed to rush on, but the rest were called back by Volisia to await the arrivals within the courtyard.

The view outside the surrounding hedge showed that the home of Seomel, the chief of the Stillingas, stood on the edge of a ridge running east and west, with a stream flowing through the valley below. The homesteads of the Stillingas, each with some tillage and[Pg 17] pasturage round it, were built at intervals on either side of the stream, just clear of the highest flood. But beyond the narrow valley the whole landscape consisted of one dense forest. The ridge was chiefly wooded with ash trees, whence the name of Escrick (or Ashridge) for its more eastern part, and a short steep hill led down from the gateway of the Stillingfleet to the margin of the brook.

Coelred ran down the hill, and his bare legs and feet carried him through the water and up the opposite side, just as the cavalcade emerged from the forest. It consisted of Elfric the Atheling; Seomel, the chief of the Stillingas; Guthlaf, the chief of the Hemingas; the Princess Alca, a young girl numbering sixteen summers, with her women; the gleeman Coifi; and a following of warriors returning from a short campaign against their northern neighbours of Bernicia. It is not certain whether the ladies rode as is now the fashion. Some people maintain that the Lady Wake, grandmother of the Fair Maid of Kent, was the first Englishwoman who used a side–saddle, 800 years afterwards. Others consider that the question is unsettled. At all events, while[Pg 18] Guthlaf took his leave and rode on to his more distant home with his followers, and the Stillinga folk made for their homesteads in the valley, the rest cantered up the hill and dismounted in the courtyard, where they were warmly greeted by Volisia and the children. Coelred ran like a young deer by his father's

horse, and it was his proud privilege to assist the Lady Alca to dismount.

Elfric and Seomel were men of gigantic proportions, tall, sinewy, and well knit, with blonde beards and fair hair flowing over their shoulders, and of the same height. They wore over their linen tunics leathern shirts with iron scales or rings sewn upon them in rows, over which were metal collars. Their hose were blue, cross–gartered from ankle to knee with strips of leather, and their shoes had an opening down the instep tied close with thongs. On their left sides hung long single–edged iron swords, with hilts wrought of silver and bronze and scored with mystic runes, in wooden scabbards tipped and edged with bronze. Short daggers, called seax, were suspended from their girdles on the right side. The small round war–boards or shields, with[Pg 19] an iron boss, were slung over their backs, and in their hands were the long ashen spears. Their helmets were of leather bound with iron and crested with iron–wrought figures of wild boars with eyes of brass. Over their armoured shirts they wore embroidered cloaks of blue cloth, fastened on their shoulders with a golden

and jewelled buckle. Coifi, the gleeman, was in less warlike guise. He wore a garment with tight sleeves and embroidered breast, not unlike a smock–frock, with a hood attached, his feet and legs being cross–gartered, while a small harp was suspended round his neck and hung at his left side.

The return from a warlike expedition was usually the occasion for a feast in the hall of the chief. It was so in this instance. As the sun went down Alca and the children retired to rest in the inner rooms, while the servants prepared the meal. In the centre of the long hall was the hearth–fire, with a hole in the roof for smoke; but now it was covered with green boughs, and on either side of it the boards were fixed on trestles. The freemen, or ceorls, of the Stillingas and of the Atheling almost filled the great room, seated in rows on the[Pg 20] benches or settles, while the Prince and Seomel, with his wife, took their places at the head of the upper board. Our English ancestors were very clean, the use of baths was general, and before the Stillingas sat down to meat water was brought them for hands and feet. The fare was good and plentiful, meat being handed round on spits, while the horns were filled with ale, and the warriors talked in groups over the events of the campaign. But it was not until the Lady Volisia had herself handed round the brimming mead–cups to her guests

and had retired, that the harp and song were called for. Then all eyes turned to the famous gleeman who had arrived in the Atheling's train from York. No man in the kingdom came near him for depth of knowledge of the ancient religion or of the folk–lore of the English. He stood by the chiefs at the upper end of the hall and tuned the harp as the mead–cup circulated.

Coifi sang that thrilling legend which never failed to arouse the enthusiasm of his countrymen, and which was peculiarly appropriate after an expedition which had for its object the rescue of a Deiran town from a Bernician invasion. He told how the hero Beowulf came[Pg 21] to Heorot with a chosen band, to rescue the subjects of King Hrothgar from the cruelties of their fiendish enemy Grendel; how Beowulf, single–handed, tore the monster's arm from his shoulder; how he then overcame Grendel's mother at the bottom of the sea with the aid of the sword Hrunting; and how he returned home victorious after this dread encounter. The touches of nature in the descriptions of scenery, the exciting speeches and challenges, the warlike sentiments, went right home to the hearts of his hearers, and loud and long was the applause at the conclusion of each fytte or canto, when the mead–cup passed round, and Coifi paused for breath.

And here the singer for his art Not all in vain may plead:

The song that nerves a nation's heart Is in itself a deed.