Professions: The Anglo-Saxon Warrior

By Sandra Schwab

When the Anglo-Saxons first came to England, they settled in small groups. The cynn ("the kin" or "the tribe") consisted of the cyning (the lord and guardian of the cynn--I think you can guess what eventually became of this Old English word!) and his followers, and it was held together by mutual loyalty. The Anglo-Saxon warrior fought for his lord and got his reward in treasure, land, slaves or cattle. Because of this, the cyning is often referred to as "treasure-giver" or "ring-giver" in Old English literature.

The Sutton Hoo helmet, a parading helmet which had been included among the treasure of the ship burial at Sutton Hoo

For an Anglo-Saxon warrior it was a matter of life and death to belong to a war band led by a strong leader. The worst thing that could happen to him was to lose his lord and his comrades. In that case, he would have no place in society and no identity in a hostile world. This is exactly what has happened to the warrior in the Old English poem "The Wanderer":

Oft the solitary man waits for prosperity,
the mercy of God, even though he with troubled heart
has long had to stir the ice-cold sea with his hands,
to travel exile-paths. Destiny is completely inexorable!
So spoke the earth-walker, mindful of hardships,
of fierce killings, of the deaths of kinsmen:
Oft did I have to bewail my sorrow alone,
every dawn. There is no one alive now
to whom I would dare to reveal my thoughts openly.

In the early decades of Anglo-Saxon Britain, the hall formed the centre of life. It was here that the lord would give his warriors their rewards; it was here that the cynn would gather to eat and drink and listen to the stories of their bards; and it was here that the common warriors would sleep. The Beowulf poet describes the building of such a mead-hall: the splendid Heorot, the hall of King Hrothgar, which is visited nightly by the horrible monster Grendel (until Beowulf puts a stop to that!) and is eventually destroyed by a fire. The hall was also used for displaying battle trophies: after Beowulf has defeated Grendel, he hangs the monster's arm and shoulder (which he has wrenched off during the fight) up under the roof.

Oh yes, those Anglo-Saxons were a blood-thirsty lot!

Famous People: William the Conqueror

By Lisa Yarde

William the Conqueror is one of the world's most famous bastards.

Not in the contemporary sense--though his enemies might have agreed--but because he rose above his birth to become Duke of Normandy and King of England. His impact on history is reflected in English law and language, and in the dominance of feudalism.

Image: William the Conqueror

Born in 1027, William was the only acknowledged son of Robert I of Normandy, alternatively known by the epithets "the Devil" or "the Magnificent" during his life. Allegedly, Robert first saw William's would-be mother Herleva from his castle at Falaise, Normandy, while she was dyeing leather. Robert promptly fell in lust and ordered the daughter of a local tanner to his bed. His mother's heritage haunted William all his life. In 1047, at William's siege of Alençon, a buffer state between Normandy and Maine, its people hung animal skins over the walls to taunt the young duke. When William captured Alençon, he cut off the hands of his tormentors.

This occurred many years after a fraught upbringing. William's father went on pilgrimage to the Holy Land in 1035. Robert died on the return journey, but before he left Normandy, he had proclaimed his illegitimate son his heir. Raised by his paternal uncle, the Archbishop of Rouen and other guardians, William survived several assassination attempts even before he became an adult. He enjoyed the support of King Henry I of France during the early years, but rivalry between the two men led to warfare in 1054 and 1057.

William married Matilda of Flanders, who bore him four sons and at least four daughters. As with most events in William's life, his union with Matilda did not begin easily. His first envoys to the Flemish court received a stinging rejection from Matilda; as a descendant of Alfred the Great of England and the French kings, she refused to marry William because of his mother's low origins and his birth.

But William did not give up. Allegedly, he rode one summer to Flanders, pulled Matilda from her horse and beat her. Whatever her feelings about this episode, Matilda changed her mind about the bastard duke. Theirs seems to have been a long and happy union, altered only by the rebellions of their oldest son Robert against his father. Matilda died in 1083; when her bones were exhumed, she measured little more than four feet tall, one of England's smallest queens but a match for the strength of her husband.

William had connections to the English court through his great aunt, Queen Emma, the mother of England's Edward the Confessor. The English king had also spent several years in Normandy as a young man and emulated Norman dress and architecture. King Edward had married Edith, a daughter of the powerful Godwin clan. When he died childless, the succession was at risk.

His brother in-law Harold Godwinson claimed the crown, but so did William of Normandy, who claimed that not only had Edward the Confessor named him heir to the throne, but Harold had sworn an oath on holy relics to support the claim.

When William learned Harold had been crowned king in January 1066, he supposedly withdrew from an afternoon of hunting and spoke to no one for several days. But this depression did not last. He summoned a war council and planned an invasion. He arrived on England’s southern coast at an optimal time; Harold was north battling Harald Hardrada for the throne, the first of two threats the English would face that year. When Harold won his first battle, he rapidly marched his army south. The Normans and English met near Hastings in October 1066. William defeated his enemy and became King of England two months later.

Image: Battle of Hastings, from the Bayeux Tapestry

Not bad for an illegitimate son who started out with an uncertain future.

Religious Beliefs: The Synod of Whitby

By Sandra Schwab

We can assume that the first Christians arrived in Britain during Roman rule. Yet there isn't much known about the spread of Christianity in Roman Britain due to the contradictory nature of the archaeological findings. And once the legions left the island and the Britons were overrun by the Anglo-Saxon invaders in the 5th century, all of the old Roman culture together with all traces of the Christian faith vanished. Now Thor and other Germanic gods were worshipped throughout England.

The real Christianisation of the British Isles began in 431, when the Pope sent Palladius as bishop to the Irish. Poor Palladius, however, is largely forgotten now because a year later more missionaries arrived in Ireland, among them St. Patrick. Yes, the St. Patrick. The guy is said to have singlehandedly converted the Emerald Island to Christianity as well as to have driven the snakes out of Ireland.

(That last point is a big, fat, whooping lie: When St. Patrick arrived in Ireland, there weren't any snakes to begin with. After the last ice age snakes simply weren't fast enough to reach Ireland before the water did and cut it off from GB. That's why there also aren't any moles in good, old Éire. Much to the delight of Irish gardeners, I'm sure!)

In subsequent years Ireland became a centre of Christian religion and learning as more and more monasteries were established. One of them is on Skellig Michael, a remote island off the coast of County Kerry. The monastery was built in 588 and probably housed about 12 monks.


Irish monks eventually spread Christianity to Wales, Scotland and northern England, where they established new religious centres such as Iona or Lindisfarne.

In 596 the Pope sent a very reluctant St. Augustine and other missionaries to Britain in order to convert the Anglo-Saxons in southern England. St. Augustine also founded the ecclesiastical capital of Canterbury and later became the first archbishop. The Anglo-Saxon kings were quite happy to convert to Christianity, mostly because they thought the hierarchical example of the Christian church would support their royal authority. Furthermore, monks were extremely useful as they could read and write.

But now we had a bit of a problem in good, old Britain: The southern English Christianity was based on the beliefs and practices of the Church of Rome--and these quite differed from those of the Celtic Church. For example there were disagreements about the organization of the church and, curiously enough, about the date of Easter. This conflict was eventually solved by the Synod of Whitby in 664.

The synod was called in by King Oswy of Northumbria. He followed the doctrines of the Celtic Church, but he had married a princess from southern England. Hence, he and his wife celebrated Easter on different dates, which, as you can imagine, was a bit awkward. Therefore, Oswy invited representatives of both churches to Whitby Abbey, where the matter was discussed. Oswy finally decided in favour of the Roman date of Easter, and thus in favour of the Church of Rome and their form of worship.

Soon after Mercia followed the example of Northumbria and as the kings of Mercia eventually controlled all of England south of the Humber, the Church of Rome became the established church in Anglo-Saxon England, while the Celtic Church lost its influence.

A rather curious literary testimony from the time of the Christianisation of the Anglo-Saxons is the poem "The Dream of the Rood," which clearly shows that even when people had been converted to Christianity, their beliefs often mirrored their former pagan religion. In addition, it also serves as an example how Christianity made use of the pagan Germanic context: The text of the poem not only only survives in the Vercelli Book of the late 10th century, but also as a shorter, fragmentary version chiseled on the borders of the Ruthwell Cross and written in Anglo-Saxon runes.

"The Dream of the Rood" deals with Christ's crucifixion, his death and resurrection. Yet despite this Christian frame, the poem is unmistakably Germanic in its descriptions and in its account of the crucifixion: Christ is described as a young Germanic hero, who strips himself for battle with his enemies. There are no references to his humiliations, exhaustion and weakness. Gory effects like the speaking, blood-dripping cross are added for further entertainment value (judging from the descriptions in Beowulf, the Anglo-Saxons loved gory battle scenes!). Here's an excerpt (my translation): in this scene the narrator has a dream vision of the cross which starts speaking to him:

"It was very long ago-- I remember it still--
that I was cut down from the edge of the forest,
removed from my root. Strong enemies took me there,
they made me into a spectacle for themselves there,
they ordered me to raise their felons;
men carried me there on their shoulders, until they set me up on a hill:
many enemies fastened me there. I saw the Lord of Mankind
hasten with great zeal, that he wanted to ascend onto me.
There I did not dare, against the word of the Lord,
to turn away or to fall apart when I saw
the corner's of the earth shake. I would have
felled all enemies; but I stood firm.
Then the young hero stripped himself--it was God Almighty!--
strong and brave; he ascended the high gallows,
courageous in the sight of many, when he wanted to redeem mankind.
I trembled when the warrior embraced me; yet I did not dare to bow to the earth
to fall to the regions of the earth, but I had to stand firm.
I was erected a cross; I raised the powerful king,
the Lord of Heavens; I did not dare to bend.
They pierced me with dark nails; on me, wounds are visible,
open malicious wounds; I did not dare to injure any of them.
They mocked us both together; I was all drenched in blood,
poured out from the man's side after he had sent forth his spirit.
On that hill I have experienced many
cruel events.