In graphic detail, the Normans show us their version of claiming the English throne: an Anglo-Saxon woman, most likely a mother and wife, clings to a child with one hand and reaches out pleadingly toward the Norman soldiers who are setting her home on fire. All to no avail, as the house burning is merely a precursor to the decisive battle at Hastings in 1066. Notice how much smaller she is than the Norman males surrounding her. The loss would not stop there. With the defeat of the Anglo-Saxon army, William of Normandy would claim the throne -- and much, much more. He and his Norman successors would take even the very Anglo-Saxon words for "wife," "woman," and "female servant," and shift them sharply to the left, putting this Anglo-Saxon "woman" -- and all her sisters -- firmly in the grip of their Norman overlords.
Early Anglo-Saxons used the word cwene for a married woman in general. During the nearly 500 years that the Anglo-Saxons controlled England, the word migrated to mean the wife of a noble, including the king. Yet even as cwene became more like the "queen" we know today, wif remained the generic term for "woman, female." In some verb forms, wif did have the meaning of "female taken in marriage," but with the growing usage of husbonda, or "master of the house," and husbonde, "mistress of the house," the distinct status of an ordinary married woman was preserved in the language. Such fine distinctions, however, as the feminine ending "e" instead of the masculine "a," were too similar for the Normans to bother to distinguish. Easier by far to grab a word that the Anglo-Saxons never used for free females, and apply it to all Anglo-Saxon females in general. Thus, wifman, a word used only for female servants (and slaves) was corrupted into "woman," et voila, every Anglo-Saxon female became no better than a servant -- available for sexual exploitation in the eyes of their Norman male rulers. This shift left "wife" free to take the place of cwene and husbonde. Again, the meaning was clear, and ominous: A "wife" was merely an Anglo-Saxon man's "woman," even though the Church still recognized (and blessed) the union. With the Church throughout England firmly in Norman hands, Anglo-Saxon "women" could expect no protection there. Married or single, high-b0rn or low, every female of the conquered English had to fear the predations of the Normans. And forever more, their language -- our language -- has enshrined that conquest of female identity. Aelfgifa of Northampton, as she is called in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, was part of a powerful and wealthy Mercian family in 1004 C.E. That was the fateful year King Aethelred gave a charter to Burton Abbey, founded by her uncle, Abbot Wulfric "Spot." In this charter, the king confirmed Wulfric's will, in which Wulfric endowed the abbey with rich estates throughout Mercia, and gave considerable property in Northumbria to his brother, Earl Aelfhelm -- Aelfgifa's father. Aelfhelm, his son Wulfgeat, his son-in-law Morcar, and the Archbishop of Canterbury, Aelfric, are among the witnesses to this charter. The charter is well known. Seldom noticed, however, are the named guardians of the bequests in the charter. Nearing death, Abbot Wulfric puts the security of his family's earthly riches in the hands of just three men -- Aelfhelm, his brother; Archbishop Aelfric, his religious superior; and Aethelred II, his king. Two years later, only one of these men would still be alive. In 1005, Wulfrun, mother of Abbot Wulfric and Earl Aelfhelm, and matriarch of her family, dies after a long and full life. A descendant of King Aelfred the Great, her own personal wealth and status may have protected her as long as she lived. However, another death in the same year strips any remaining protection from Wulfrun's family. On November 16, Archbishop Aelfric of Canterbury dies. Now only Earl Aelfhelm and King Aethelred remain as guardians of the vast estates which Wulfric, and presumably Wulfrun, have left behind in Mercia and Northumbria. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle entry for the year 1006 describes what happened next: This year . . . Wulfeah and Ufgeat were deprived of sight; Ealdorman [Earl] Aelfhelm was slain. John of Worcester's Chronicon ex Chronicis provides additional details: The crafty and treacherous Eadric Streona, plotting to deceive the noble Ealdorman Aelfhelm, prepared a great feast for him at Shrewsbury . . . But on the third or fourth day of the feast, when an ambush had been prepared, he [Eadric] took him into the wood to hunt. When all were busy with the hunt, one Godwine Porthund, a Shrewsbury butcher, whom Eadric had dazzled long before with great gifts and many promises . . . suddenly leapt out from the ambush, and execrably slew the ealdorman Aelfhelm. After a short space of time, his sons, Wulfheah and Ufegeat, were blinded, at King Aethelred's command, at Cookham, where he himself [the king] was staying. Much has been written about the violence and treachery of Eadric Streona. In simple terms, he was King Aethelred's enforcer. Yet even he refuses, this time, to do the dirty work himself, and hires a local butcher to kill Aelfhelm. Not satisfied with murdering the father, King Aethelred then orders both of Aelfhelm's sons, Wulfheah, who witnessed the charter, and his younger brother, Ufegeat, to be blinded in his presence. Since a blind man cannot inherit property in Anglo-Saxon England, this vicious act immediately removes the claims Wulfheah and Ufegeat have on their father's lands.
Now no man stands between King Aethelred and the rich estates given to Aelfhelm and to Burton Abbey. Again, the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle sums up the outcome: "A.D. 1007. In this year also was Eadric appointed Ealdorman over all the kingdom of the Mercians." The king's man has his reward, for past and future services. Burton Abbey, on the other hand, declines from a richly endowed religious house to one of the poorest abbeys in England. And Northumbria? King Aethelred appoints a man named Uhtred to be its new earl. No one, it seems, remains of Wulfrun's once powerful Mercian family to trouble him. No one, that is, but twelve-year-old Aelfgifa, and her two blind brothers now dependents in her care. Anglo-Saxon artists in all forms were fond of playing with images and letters, to suggest additional meanings beyond the obvious. The precise owner of this exquisite sword -- the blade is badly corroded but is believed to have been of the best quality, Ulfbearht type -- was clearly a man or woman of high status. The handgrip is unusually small, only 6.5 centimeters long. Another sword of this type, but with Viking imagery, was found at Suontaka, Finland in a woman's grave. If this sword did indeed originally belong to a woman, who could she have been? Historically, the highest status Anglo-Saxon woman known to have been in Norway at the time was Aelfgifu, handfasted wife of King Knut (Canute) of England, Denmark, and Norway. From 1030 to 1035, she ruled as Regent with their son, Svein, who had been appointed King of Norway by his father. Svein was about 16 at the beginning of his reign. Their rule ended abruptly in 1035 with an uprising of the Norwegian people against foreign domination. The mysterious, yet clearly Christian, symbols on the Langeid sword, as it is known, show a striking affinity with earlier Anglo-Saxon symbols on the coins minted for Queen Cynethryth of Mercia, in central England. At the time, England was not yet united, and Mercia was the most powerful kingdom, ruled jointly by King Offa and his notable Queen. Notable, especially, because Cynethryth was the only queen of the age to have a coin with her name and image on it. The central image on the right hand side (the reverse of the coin) is the stylized "M" for Mercia. The horizontal bar above indicates an abbreviation. On many of King Offa's coins, the "M" is less spiral in shape, more clearly a letter. On Cynethryth's coins, the outer arms of the "M" begin to spiral, with a more extended central point that looks like a nose. Two dots have also been placed within the spiraling arms to suggest eyes. Taken at first glance, one might even see a face. Looking back at the Langeid sword, the hilt also has a stylized spiral on both sides. The spirals clearly resemble eyes, with a horizontal bar at the top that has been integrated into the design, rather like the bar on a pair of glasses, and indications of a "nose" -- created by a bird's tail and a cross, respectively. Above one spiral, the Hand of God reaches down, carrying a cross, and accompanied by the runic "S" for Sigel, the Sun. On both hilt and pommel, the letter "E" predominates, and is oriented to the direction of the spirals. The abbreviations "SR" and "SH" on the pommel are also important in deciphering the possible owner of the sword. Taken together, the "SR" could well stand for the Latin phrase, "Serva Regina," or "[God] Save the Queen," and the "SH" for the Old English title, "Seo Hlafdige," or "Our Lady," by which Anglo-Saxon noble wives were addressed. If so, the identity of the "E" falls into place.
Aelfgifu, the wife of King Knut and later Regent of Norway by his appointment, had her name written as "Elgiva" in Latin. Did the sword belong to Aelfgifu/Elgiva? But what about Emma, the other (more famous) wife of King Knut? It is true that Knut also married the Norman lady, Emma, widow of the previous king, Aethelred. But she was not the slightest bit Anglo-Saxon, and no evidence exists that she was ever in Norway. However, Aelfgifu/Elgiva was descended from a powerful and noble Mercian family -- and, as my next blog will show, had every reason to welcome the Danish prince, Knut, to her shores, and to England's throne. Last edited: February 2, 2019. |
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