Note Vv. p. . The War of Cnut and Eadmund

The English narratives of this great year of battles agree well together on the whole, and I see no difficulty in accepting the story as it is given in them. The part played by Eadric is indeed hard to understand, but so is his career throughout, and I can see no ground for casting aside the unanimous witness of our authorities and placing any arbitrary conjecture in its stead. We have first the narrative in the Chronicles. The three elder versions agree together, with only the smallest verbal differences; the later Canterbury Chronicle gives the story in an abridged shape; Florence, William of Malmesbury, and Henry of Huntingdon, tell essentially the same story. Their versions are plainly grounded on the history in the Chronicles, seemingly with some help from contemporary songs. This is especially plain in Henry of Huntingdon. His narrative of this campaign, like his narrative of the campaign of Stamfordbridge (see vol. iii. p. ), is a mere meagre abridgement till he reaches the battle of Assandun, when he lights up and gives a spirited account, which evidently comes from a ballad. In all these accounts, whether coming from Chroniclers or from minstrels, the treason of Eadric stands out distinctly. And it stands out no less distinctly in the account given from the Danish side by the author of the Encomium Emmæ, of which I shall speak more presently.

I will now mention a few points in detail, in which the English writers differ from one another, or which call for attention on any other ground.

It is, I think, plain that Eadmund, on leaving London, was at once accepted by the West-Saxons, or such part of them as he had been able to reach before he was overtaken by Cnut at Penselwood. These would be the forces of Somerset, Dorset, Devonshire, and part of Wiltshire. This we gather from Florence’s account of the battle of Sherstone. The Chronicle says distinctly, “Eadmund cyng ... gerad þa Westsexon, and him beah eall folc tó.” So Florence more fully, “Intrepidus West-Saxoniam adiit sine cunctatione, et ab omni populo magna susceptus gratulatione, suæ ditioni subegit eam citissime; quibus auditis multi Anglorum populi magna cum festinatione illi se dederunt voluntarie.”

No doubt, as soon as Eadmund’s standard was once raised, volunteers would drop in from all parts which were not actually occupied by a Danish military force. The expressions of Florence implying something like a conquest, though of course a perfectly willing conquest, of Wessex by Eadmund will be understood if we remember that Cnut was actually the acknowledged King, by the choice of all the Witan who were not actually within the walls of London. I do not quite understand William of Malmesbury (ii. 180), who seems to think that Eadmund took a force with him from London (“oppidani Edmundum in regem conclamant. Ipse, mox congregato exercitu, apud Pennam juxta Gilingeham Danos fugavit”), and that the West-Saxons did not acknowledge him till after the battle of Sherstone—“quo facto West-Saxonum conversi animi dominum legitimum cognoverunt.”

I see no reason to doubt that the Sceorstan of the Chronicles is Sherstone in Wiltshire, and not Chimney in Oxfordshire, as suggested by Mr. Thorpe in his note on Florence. Mr. Thorpe objects that Florence places the battle “in Hwiccia,” and that Sherstone, as being in Wiltshire, does not answer that description. But Florence also places the battle of Pen “in Dorsetania,” which Pen Selwood is not, though Gillingham is. But both Sherstone and Pen Selwood are so near to the marches of their respective shires, that military operations may well have extended in both cases beyond the border.

As for the details of the battle of Sherstone, I have mainly followed Florence. The story of Eadric pretending that Eadmund was dead no doubt comes from a ballad, but I do not see that that makes it at all untrustworthy. A contemporary ballad, such as that of Maldon or the lost ballad on which Henry of Huntingdon must have founded his account of Stamfordbridge, is surely very good authority. But while Florence and William of Malmesbury place the story at Sherstone, Henry of Huntingdon transfers it to Assandun; he therefore leaves out the incident of Eadric’s striking off the man’s head or otherwise professing to have killed Eadmund, a story which was of course inconsistent with Eadric’s position at Assandun, where he held a command on Eadmund’s side. But this incident is surely an essential part of the story; it is not Florence and William who have added it, but Henry who has left it out. William of Malmesbury simply says that Eadric “gladium in manu tenens quem, in pugna quodam rustico impigre cæso, cruentarat, Fugite, inquit, miseri, fugite, ecce, Rex vester hoc ense occisus est.” Florence is fuller; “Siquidem quum pugna vehemens esset, et Anglos fortiores esse cerneret, cujusdam viri, regi Eadmundo facie capillisque simillimi, Osmeari nomine, capite amputato et in altum levato, exclamat Anglos frustra pugnare, dicens

‘Vos Dorsetenses, Domnani, Wiltonienses,
Amisso capite præcipites fugite;
En domini vestri caput Eadmundi Basilei
Hic teneo manibus, cedite quantocius.’”

(The same stratagem is said to have been employed by an English soldier at the Battle of the Standard. See Æthelred of Rievaux, X Scriptt. 345; “Cujusdam prudentis viri figmento, qui caput unius occisi in altum erigens, regem clamabat occisum, revocati, vehementius solito irruunt in obstantes.” The story is told with great spirit by Peter of Langtoft, i. 480.)

The metrical character of the speech given by Florence was first remarked by Professor Stubbs (R. Howden, i. 82); but we may be sure that both this and the other longer speech are merely expansions of the vigorous little bit of English given us in Henry of Huntingdon, “Flet Engle, flet Engle, ded is Edmund,” which are likely enough to be Eadric’s real words. Still the speech in Florence is valuable (see above, p. ). It helps us to the party divisions of Wessex at the moment of the battle. The Wilsætas are here reckoned among the followers of Eadmund, but Florence had just before said that Eadric, Ælfmær, and Ælfgar were there “cum Suthamtoniensibus et Wiltoniensibus provincialibus, innumeraque populi multitudine in parte Danorum.” It is plain then that the northern and southern parts of Wiltshire were arrayed on opposite sides. The incident of Eadmund taking off his helmet and hurling his spear at Eadric is found only in William of Malmesbury; “Fugissent continuo Angli, nisi rex, cognita re, in editum quemdam collem procederet, ablata galea caput suum commilitonibus ostentans.” I hope that this is not copied from the like story of William at Senlac; it is an incident which might easily repeat itself; and the notion of Eadmund getting on higher ground to show himself, falls in with the difference between a general fighting on foot like Eadmund and one fighting on horseback like William.

There is nothing in the English accounts which calls for special remark till we come to the battle of Assandun. All the accounts agree as to the treason of Eadric at Aylesford. But it is to be noticed that the remark made in p. as to the two classes of treasons laid to the charge of Eadric applies here. The treasons reported at Sherstone and Assandun must be facts; the treason reported at Aylesford may have been only a general surmise. As to the order of events all agree, only Florence, in his reckoning, goes by the number of armies, Henry of Huntingdon by that of battles. The third army fought two battles, one under the walls of London, the other at Brentford.

As for the battle of Assandun, I have no doubt that the modern Ashington is the true site. In June, 1866, I went over the ground with Mr. Dawkins, Florence in hand. We found that the place exactly answered his description, and I afterwards compared it with the other authorities. Another spot which has been proposed is Ashdown in another part of Essex. I suppose its claims rest on the description of the Encomiast (ii. 9), “in Æsceneduno loco, quod nos Latini montem fraxinorum possimus interpretari.” But this only shows the foreign writer’s imperfect knowledge of English. Assandun is simply, as Florence has it, mons asini. Henry of Huntingdon’s form Esesdun may come from substituting the later genitive asses for the older assan, or from a confusion with Ælfred’s Æscesdun in 871, or possibly from a shrinking from so unheroic a meaning as mons asini. The modern form Assington or Ashington is due to the same corruption which has changed Abbandun and Huntandun and Ælfred’s Ethandun into Abingdon, Huntingdon, and Edington. The form in -ing is so common that it has swallowed up others which are less familiar. As for the other hill, Canewdon, the local explanation which connects it with the name of Cnut is certainly very tempting, though it is perhaps a little hard to get it out of Cnutesdún. But the Domesday form (ii. 44) Carendun is clearly corrupt, and the pronunciation Cánewdon is a very recent corruption, savouring of the schoolmaster. On the lips of the oldest inhabitant it is distinctly Caneẃdon, which brings us near, if not to Cnuto, at least to Canutus.

The battle of Assandun was distinctly a national struggle on the English side. In the words of the Chronicles, “Þær ahte Cnut sige, and gefeht him ealle Engla þeode.” So just before, Eadmund’s army is called “ealle Engla þeode,” and Florence says that he came “cum exercitu quem de tota Anglia contraxerat.” The presence of Ulfcytel and Godwine witnesses to the presence of the forces of such strongly Danish districts as East-Anglia and even distant Lindesey, while Eadric is distinctly marked in Florence as commanding, among other forces, the equally distant Magesætas; “cum Magesetensibus et exercitus parte cui præerat.”

My account of the battle comes from three sources. The strictly military part of it, the arrangements and intentions of the two generals, comes from Florence. The poetical part, the picture of the King by his Standard and his charge upon the enemy, comes from Henry of Huntingdon; I have even ventured to bring in a few touches from the Encomiast, whose account of this one battle seems to be historical. But it must be remembered that the stratagem of Eadric, which Florence and William of Malmesbury place at Sherstone, is by Henry of Huntingdon moved to Assandun. Eadmund, in his great charge, has nearly reached Cnut’s post in the Danish army, when Eadric cries out “Flet Engle,” &c., takes to flight himself, and the rest of the English army follow him. I hope that I have already shown that the story of Eadmund’s pretended death is in its place at Sherstone, and that its details have been changed to make it suit the circumstances of Assandun. It is also plain from the other accounts that, though the flight of Eadric greatly weakened the English forces, yet the battle went on long after.

I will now turn to the foreign accounts, beginning with the absolutely contemporary Thietmar. We have seen something of him when dealing with the accounts of the martyrdom of Ælfheah. Thietmar clearly took a deep interest in English affairs without fully understanding them. He wrote down the accounts which he heard at the time as well as he could make them out, but in so doing he often made havoc of his story. Still an author to whom the struggle of Cnut and Eadmund was the latest piece of foreign news must have his use; and we shall find that Thietmar here, as before, gives us some hints which, if used cautiously, may be of great value. His account is full of blunders, but there is nothing of perversion, romance, or colouring. His story (vii. 28, ap. Pertz, iii. 849) runs thus. After the death of Æthelred, Harold and Cnut the sons of Swegen, with their Earl Thurgut (“cum duce suimet Thurguto”), besiege London with 340 ships, each manned by eighty men. The city was defended by the Lady Emma—who is described as “tristis nece viri suimet et defensoris”—with her two sons Æthelstan and Eadmund—Æthelred’s first family being as usual mistaken for children of Emma—together with two Bishops and other chief men (“duobus episcopis ceterisque primatibus”). The siege lasted six months; at last the Lady, tired out (“bello defatigata assiduo”), asked for peace. The Danes demanded the surrender of the two Æthelings to be put to death, the payment of 15,000 pounds of silver as the Lady’s ransom, of 12,000 pounds as the ransom of the Bishops, the surrender of all the coats of mail in the city, 24,000 in number (“numerus incredibilis”), and of 300 hostages. If these terms are not agreed to, all would be put to death (“sin autem, omnes ter clamabant eos una gladio perituros”). The Lady (“venerabilis regina”—I need not say that this is a mere title of honour and has no reference to the age of the future bride of Cnut), after some hesitation, consents to these terms. The Æthelings escaped by night in a little boat, and forthwith begin to gather a force for the relief of their mother and of the city. Eadmund one day falls in with Thurgut, who was engaged in plundering. A drawn battle follows, in which both Thurgut and Eadmund are killed. The Danes go back to their ships, and hearing that Æthelstan is coming with a British force to the relief of the city (“intelligentes urbi solatium ab Æthelsteno superstite et Britannis venientibus afferri”), they raised the siege after killing or mutilating their hostages (“truncatis obsidibus”). The strictly contemporary character of the account is shown by the prayer with which the Bishop of Merseburg winds up his story; “Et destruat eos [Danos] atque disperdat protector in se sperantium Deus, ne umquam solito his vel aliis noceant fidelibus. In ereptione civitatis illius gaudeamus et in cetero lugeamus.”

This account sounds very wild, and it is easy to show that there are plenty of mistakes in it. But written as it was at the very time, while the final upshot of the war was still uncertain, it suggests some very important points. To mistake Æthelstan and Eadmund for sons of Emma was a common and easy blunder. But to suppose that Emma had come back to England with Æthelred, that she was now in London, that, with or without the consent of Eadmund, she entered into negotiations with Cnut, are statements which are not found in our Chronicles, but which do not contradict what is found there. They are statements which are perfectly possible; they may even throw light on the marriage of Cnut and Emma in the next year. The mention of the two Bishops again falls in with the fact, which we have got at in another way, that Archbishop Lyfing was in the city. Then, though it is quite certain that London did not stand a continuous siege of six months, beginning with July 1016, yet London must have been besieged off and on for about that time in the course of the year 1016. Then the death of Eadmund is of course wrongly given, and the death of Thurkill also, if by Thurgut we are to understand Thurkill. But this last point is by no means clear, as Thietmar goes on immediately to tell the story of Ælfheah, in which Thurkill, though not Ælfheah (see above, p. ), appears with his right name. But the thing which is most remarkable in this account is the mention of Harold the brother of Cnut and of Æthelstan the brother of Eadmund. Harold and Æthelstan are men whose existence we know, but not much more about them. There was no temptation to bring them in, unless they had really played a part in the war. I think we may infer that Harold did accompany Cnut, and that Æthelstan had a share in the campaign—that is, that he did not die before his father (see above, p. ). Moreover Thietmar, who called Ælfheah Dunstan, was quite capable of confounding the two brothers and transposing their names. Let us only read Eadmund for Æthelstan and Æthelstan for Eadmund, and we get a consistent and probable narrative. The tale was probably told Thietmar by some one who came from London and who did not enlarge on the western fights of Pen Selwood and Sherstone. He dwelt mainly on what happened in and near his own city. Æthelstan, it would seem, was killed, as is perfectly probable, in one of the battles near London or in some unrecorded skirmish. The Danes raise the siege, as we know that they twice did, before the armies of Eadmund. Those armies, levied mainly in the western shires, are by Thietmar called Britanni. This expression is one of the most remarkable in the whole story. It must have some special force; it is not Thietmar’s usual way of speaking of Englishmen. We can hardly doubt that Thietmar’s English informant, speaking of troops levied mainly within the shires of the old Wealhcyn, spoke of them as Brettas or Wealas. Altogether I look on this account as worthy of all heed. I have not ventured to insert the death of Æthelstan or the negotiation between Emma and Cnut in the text as thoroughly ascertained facts, but I certainly look upon both as highly probable.

I must now turn to a foreign writer of quite another character, the Encomiast of Emma. I have already mentioned (see above, p. ) how he makes Thurkill bring Cnut into England. This is before the death of Æthelred. He now (ii. 6) goes on to tell us how, before Cnut himself landed, Thurkill determined to win Cnut’s favour by some great exploit. He therefore lands, in what part of England it is not said, with the crews of forty ships, and fights the battle of Sherstone (“ascendit cum suis e navibus dirigens aciem contra Anglorum impetum qui tunc in loco Scorastan dicto fuerat congregatus”) all by himself against an English force of more than double his numbers (“Danorum exercitus ... medietati hostium minime par fuerat”), over whom he of course gains a complete victory. Eric then (see p. ), fired by the example of Thurkill, is allowed to go on another expedition, in which he fights several battles and wins much plunder. Cnut then, seemingly looking on the country as his own, forbids further ravages (“rex parcens patriæ, prohibuit ultra eam prædari”), but orders a strict siege to be laid to London, which is oddly called “metropolis terræ,” and which the writer seems half to fancy was on the sea (“undique enim mari quodammodo non pari vallatur flumine”). Just at this time Æthelred died, being removed, according to the Encomiast, by God’s special providence, in order that Cnut might enter the city and that both Danes and Englishmen might have a breathing-space; “Deus itaque qui omnes homines vult magis salvare quam perdere, intuens has gentes tanto periculo laborare, eum principem qui interius civitati præsidebat educens e corpore, junxit quieti sempiternæ, ut eo defuncto liber Cnutoni ingressus pateret, et utrique populo confecta pace paulisper respirare copia esset.” The citizens accordingly bury Æthelred and make a capitulation with Cnut, by which the city is surrendered to him. Cnut accordingly enters the city, and if not crowned, is at least enthroned; “Cnuto civitatem intravit, et in solio regni resedit.” But a part of the troops within the city disapprove of the agreement with Cnut, so on the night after his entrance they leave the city with a young man called Eadmund, a son of the late King; “cum filio defuncti principis egressi sunt civitatem;” so directly after “Ædmund, sic enim juvenis qui exercitum collegerat dictus est.” Eadmund easily gathers an army, because the English were more inclined to him than they were to Cnut; “nec quieverunt quousque omnes pene Anglos sibi magis adhuc adclines quam Cnutoni conglobarent.” Cnut is meanwhile in London, but finding that he cannot trust the Londoners, he first repairs his ships, and then leaves the city and winters in Sheppey, having declined an offer of single combat made to him by Eadmund. Eadmund enters London, where he is joyfully received, and spends the winter, having Eadric with him as his chief counsellor (“erat quoque ejus partis comes primus Edricus, consiliis pollens, sed tamen dolositate versipellis, quem sibi ad aurem posuerat Ædmund in omnibus negotiis”). The next Lent is spent by Eadmund in gathering a vast force with the intention of driving Cnut out of the country. The story now becomes more trustworthy, and we get a spirited account of the battle of Assandun, from which I have not scrupled to draw largely in the text. I need only mention here that the treacherous flight of Eadric is as distinctly asserted as in any English account. The only difference is that it is placed before the battle has actually begun. The words are,

“Ibique, nondum congressione facta, Edric, quem primum comitem Ædmundi diximus, hæc suis intulit affamina, ‘Fugiamus, O socii, vitamque subtrahamus morte imminenti, alioquin occumbemus illico, Danorum enim duritiam nosco.’ Et velato vexillo quod dextra gestabat, dans tergum hostibus, magnam partem militum bello fraudabat. Et, ut quidam aiunt, hoc non caussa egit timoris sed dolositatis, ut postea claruit; quia hoc eum clam Danis promisisse, nescio quo pro beneficio, assertio multorum dicit.”

The Scandinavian writers are, if possible, yet more wonderful. In the Saga of Olaf Haraldsson (Laing, i. 8; Johnstone, 89) we read how, when Æthelred came back from Normandy, or, according to this account, from Flanders, Olaf took service under him and joined in an attack on London, which was then held by the Danes. Olaf with his ships breaks down London bridge and takes Southwark, on which the Londoners surrender and receive Æthelred. Olaf passes the winter in England, and, strange to say, fights the battle of Ringmere in Ulfcytel’s land (p. ); “Þá atto þeir orrosto micla á Hríngmaraheidi á Ulfkelslandi, þát ríki átti þá Ulfkell Snillingr.” (See above, p. .) By a yet more amazing confusion Olaf is next made to take Canterbury; he then has the general command of all England, where he stays three years. In the third year Æthelred dies, and is succeeded by his sons Eadmund and Eadward. Olaf now leaves England, and performs divers exploits in Valland or Gaul. Meanwhile Cnut and Eric come into England, where Eric fights a battle near London, in which Ulfcytel is killed. Cnut fights several battles with the sons of Æthelred with various success. He then marries Emma, by whom he has three children, Harold, Harthacnut, and Gunhild. He then divides the kingdom with Eadmund, who is presently killed by Eadric Streona. Cnut now drives all the sons of Æthelred out of England; they take refuge at Rouen in Valland, where Olaf joins them. They lay plans for recovering England from Cnut, Northumberland being promised to Olaf. Olaf sends over his foster-father Rana (see p. ) into England, who spends a winter there, collecting forces. In the spring Olaf and the sons of Æthelred go over into England themselves, but after some fighting, the power of Cnut is found to be too strong for them, so Olaf goes into Norway and the sons of Æthelred return to Valland.

Not less amazing is the version in the Knytlinga Saga (c. 7–16; Johnstone, 103 et seqq.). Here again Æthelred is made to return after the death of Swegen with the help of Olaf. Cnut is only ten years old at his father’s death; still, as his brother Harold is dead, he succeeds in Denmark. After three years, it is thought good that he should assert his claims to England. So he sets sail with the Earls Eric and Ulf, and with Heming and Thurkill the Tall, the sons of Strut-Harold (see above, p. ). They land in England at a place called Fliot; their first battle is fought in Lindesey. They then take the town of Hemingburgh (“Hemingaborg à Englandi”) and go on conquering towards the south. In the autumn Æthelred dies, Emma is just about to leave England, when Cnut stops her and persuades her to marry him (see Appendix ZZ). The English now (p. ) choose four Kings, sons of Æthelred and Emma (“Eptir andlat Adalrads konungs voru til konunga teknir synir hans oc Emmu drotningar”). The eldest is Eadmund the Strong (“Jatmundr enn sterki”), the others Eadgar, Eadwig, and Eadward the Good (“Jatvardr enn godi,” see above, p. ). The battle of Sherstone is now fought, but one is rather surprised to find it fought in Northumberland by the banks of the Tees. Eadmund and Cnut both fight on horseback, and meet face to face in the battle. On a report that Eadmund is killed the English take to flight. After this is placed the story of Godwine’s introduction to Ulf (see Note ZZ). Cnut next defeats the sons of Æthelred in a battle at Brentford, then comes (p. ) the battle of Assundun, which is described as “Assatun to the north of the Daneswood” (“Knutr konungr atti ena þridu orrostu vid Adalradsyni, þar sem heita Assatun: vard þar en mikil orrosta: þat er nordr fra Danaskogum”). A fourth battle and a fourth defeat of the English follows at Norwich. Eadmund and his brothers then take shelter in London. Cnut sails up the river and besieges the city. The English come out to fight, and, while Cnut continues the siege, Eric, with some of the Thingmen, fights a battle against Ulfcytel (“Ulfkell Snillingr”) and puts him to flight. He then wins another battle at Ringmere. Cnut is still besieging Eadmund in London, when it is agreed that the kingdom shall be divided. Then follows the murder of Eadmund. (See Appendix WW.)

All this is wonderful enough, but it is hardly so wonderful as what we read, not in any saga, but in the sober Annals of Roskild (Langebek, i. 376); “Sven Angliam invasit, regem Adelradum expulit et Britanniæ fines potitus, vix tres menses supervixit. Post cujus mortem Edmundus filius Adelradi, quem Sveno expulit, Kanutum filium Suenonis et Olavum filium Olavi regis Norwegiæ, qui ibi obsides fuerant, in vincula conjecit (see p. ).... Mortuo Edmundo rege Anglorum filius Adelradus in regnum successit. Quod audiens Kanutus, veteris injuriæ non immemor quam pater ejus sibi et Olavo intulerat, cum mille armatis navibus transfretavit, et immensis viribus Angliam invasit, triennium cum Adelrado certavit. Adelradus, fessus et bello et senio, quum obsideretur in Londonia civitate, obiit, relinquens filium Edwardum, quem suscepit ab Ymma regina, quæ fuit filia Rothberti comitis. Kanutus victor exsistens, ipsam Ymmam duxit uxorem, genuitque ex ea filium Hartheknud.”

It is hardly worth while examining these stories in detail, though it would not be hard to point out some of their confusions and transpositions. They should make us thankful for the priceless heritage of our own Chronicles.