Æthelwold as played by Harry McIntire in The Last Kingdom. Having not seen the show, I was interested to learn he was loathed by the fans as a character. Obviously, Bernard Cornwall and the showrunners presented a different man to the one I describe below.
Monarchy is supposed to be a stable form of government. One of the reasons is that there is a clear succession. In previous centuries, the eldest surviving son would succeed his father. Nowadays, at least in Britain, it is the eldest surviving child, regardless of sex. Yet the succession patterns of monarchy were in reality often fragile. At no time was this more apparent than the early Middle Ages in Europe. Generally, it was expected that a son would succeed his father. But in a tough age where being a king meant being a warrior before all else, a son that was too young might be a problematic candidate for kingship. Add invading Vikings into the mix, and it might behoove a kingdom to set aside the rights of young son for the experience of an older male family member. The Anglo-Saxon kingdom of Wessex faced just such a moment on the death of King Æthelred in 871.
Æthelred died leaving two young sons: Æthelhelm and Æthelwold. Given Wessex was now the last standing Anglo-Saxon kingdom in the wake of the advances of the so-called Great Heathen Army of Vikings, and those Vikings were looking to conquer Wessex, a child king was not an ideal situation at the present moment. Instead, the notables of Wessex decided to acclaim Æthelred’s younger brother, Alfred, as king. Alfred was in his early twenties (he was born in 849) and was already an experienced warrior. Given the military state affairs of the 870s, this was the best decision. Wessex was almost conquered by the Vikings in 877, though Alfred managed a counterattack and won a major battle against the invaders at Edington in 878. Alfred and the Vikings essentially divided modern day England between them, and Alfred slowly rebuilt the military and civil infrastructure of his expanded kingdom across the 880s. As their uncle remodeled the kingdom, Æthelhelm and Æthelwold seem to have faded into the dynastic background, perhaps content to let Alfred have the reins of power due to their age. They probably also hoped that they would benefit from Alfred’s redistribution of royal and noble estates as he strengthened this new kingdom of the Angles and Saxons. This would set them up to be possible contenders for the throne when Alfred died in due course. However, it would be in Alfred’s settling of estates on his family members via his will that provided the first cracks in the foundation of dynastic solidarity.[1]
The estates distributed in the 880s were extensive. Effectively, they helped to resettle the old core of the Wessex heartlands disturbed by war. Additionally, they created a new aristocracy for the larger kingdom that had come into being in the 870s and 880s. Part of the resettlement involved the lands granted to Alfred and Æthelred by their long dead father, King Æthelwulf (yes, I know these names are confusing). Alfred and Æthelred agreed to pass these estates on to the children of whichever brother died first. With Æthelred’s death in 871, these estates should have descended to Æthelhelm and Æthelwold. However, Alfred claimed the gift in its entirety, giving his nephews a sense of feeling cheated when they reached their majority. They confronted their uncle at a meeting of the witan, but Alfred won due to his status as king. Æthelhelm and Æthelwold’s disgruntlement was only intensified by Alfred’s will. In the words of Alfred P. Smyth, “Æthelwold and his brother were given a very poor deal indeed.” Alfred’s sons Edward and Æthelweard received a total of thirty-two estates between them. In contrast, Æthelhelm and Æthelwold received only eleven estates (eight for Æthelhelm and three for Æthelwold).[2] It is not hard to imagine the young men feeling frozen out of the Wessex polity as they watched their uncle and his sons take over the spoils that would, in other circumstances, have been theirs. The fact that they were from a more senior line of the house of Wessex must have fueled the resentment. By 899, Æthelhelm had faded from history, presumably dead. However, Æthelwold was still very much alive and, according to Marc Morris, “bent on having his revenge.”[3]
Wimborne Abbey in Dorset, where Æthelwold made his bid for power in 900.
Alfred the Great died in October 899. Edward the Elder, his son and heir, was not crowned until May 900. Despite the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle stating that Edward succeeded to the kingdom, Alfred Smyth surmises that this six to seven-month period witnessed a competition between Edward and his cousin Æthelwold to secure the support of the Wessex witan to be the next king.[4] Anglo-Saxon kingship had an elective element in it. While all the candidates for kingship were generally of the royal line, strict hereditary procedure did not necessarily always apply. The nobles and other “wise men” of a kingdom could elect to support another male member of the dynasty if he might offer better prospects as a leader. Indeed, this is what occurred in 871 with Alfred the Great’s own succession.[5] To validate his claim, Æthelwold immediately “went into rebellion.” His first action was to abduct a woman from a local nunnery and marry her. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle claimed that Æthelwold did so without the permission of the king and the bishops, but Marc Morris theorized that Æthelwold wanted to marry this woman at an earlier date but had been forbidden from doing so, perhaps because she was the daughter of a powerful family who could have given Æthelwold muscle to pursue his claim to the throne. After his hasty wedding, Æthelwold rode to Wimborne in Dorset. The town was symbolic: Æthelwold’s father, Æthelred, was buried in Wimborne Abbey. Proclaiming himself his father’s heir, he seized the royal residence and steeled himself for resistance. His message to his cousin Edward was simple: come and get me.
Edward obliged. Alfred the Great’s son proved himself the man of the moment. He quickly raised an army and bore down on Æthelwold’s position. And that position was exposed: in the limited time allotted to him, Æthelwold was not able to muster an army to counter Edward’s. He decided to cut and run and revive the struggle at a later date. Abandoning both Wimborne and his new wife, Æthelwold fled north. Edward attempted to apprehend him, but Æthelwold crossed over into Northumbria and the Danelaw ahead of the troops.[6]
Perhaps Edward thought that Æthelwold’s flight would be the end of the issue. That was not to be. The swift collapse of Æthelwold’s position in 900 obscured the fact that he may have had support. Alfred Smyth argued that he would not have launched his coup if he had not believed he could carry a number of the nobles of Wessex with him.[7] Given his ability to occupy Wimborne, there were several notables willing to back his claim to the throne. If he lacked strong immediate support, he perhaps hoped he could rally more in the future. He was obviously not a foppish young man with a grudge, but a character of some quality. When Æthelwold arrived in Northumbria, he persuaded the Danish army there to hail him as their king. In 901, he sailed his new army and fleet to Essex and East Anglia in eastern England, winning the submission of the men of both regions to rule. In 902, Æthelwold used this burgeoning hegemony to invade the kingdom of Mercia in central England, closely linked with Wessex. He then crossed over into Wessex to raid his former home, perhaps in an attempt to demonstrate his might and worthiness to be king. Edward the Elder could not afford to ignore these challenges. From a potential, if inexperienced pretender, Æthelwold had grown into an established leader who could threaten his kingship. Arguably, he was in competition with Edward as to who would be the dominate king between the Anglo-Saxons and the Danelaw. Edward mobilized an army and marched to head off his cousin’s. They were too late, but Edward’s army invaded their enemy’s territory in revenge. The force proceeded to lay waste to areas around Cambridge and Ely. Most of the army then retreated, except for the men of Kent, arguably the most devoted to Edward the Elder of any of his subjects. As the men of Kent dawdled, they were attacked by the Danish army at a place called Holme on 13 December 902. A bloody battle ensured. At its climax, the Danes defeated the Kent force and forced them from the field. However, among the casualties on the Danish side was Æthelwold, king of Northumbria and claimant to the throne of Wessex.[8]
Æthelwold’s death ended his attempt to claim the throne. Yet it is worth reflecting on his legacy. One of the men who died with him at Holme was one Brihtsige, “son of the ætheling Beornoth”, a prominent member of the Wessex royal house. This demonstrates that men of the highest standing supported Æthelwold’s claim to be king.[9] Fifty years later, there was a strange incident which revealed the dead claimant’s continual, ghostly presence in the politics of the Anglo-Saxon realm, which we may now properly call England. In 956, there was a coronation feast to celebrate the accession of Edward the Elder’s grandson, Eadwig. One of the king’s advisors and a future archbishop of Canterbury, Dunstan, noticed the teenaged king was not present. Dunstan visited the royal apartments to fetch the new king. According to one of the saint’s lives, Dunstan found Eadwig engaged in a threesome with a mother and daughter duo, Æthelgifu and Ælfgifu (I never claimed this was a family platform). Despite the objections of Dunstan and others, Eadwig would later go on to marry Ælfgifu. What is significant here is that Ælfgifu and her mother were descendants of Æthelwold’s lineage. As Marc Morris surmises, it was almost as if ““The people who seized power at Eadwig’s accession had apparently been biding their time for over half a century.”[10] Yet even in death, Æthelwold was to be denied ultimate victory. Eadwig’s marriage to Ælfgifu was annulled by 958, and the young king died the following year with no issue of his body. It was to be Alfred and Edward’s line, through his younger brother, Edgar the Peaceable, which was to rule England into the eleventh century. As such, perhaps Æthelwold deserves only a footnote in the history of Anglo-Saxon England. Yet in the early tenth century, it must be said that several notables of Wessex were prepared to consider him as much more than that.
Medieval Losers will return soon with the story of Raymound of Toulouse, the leader of the First Crusade who failed to make himself king of Jerusalem.
[1] M. Morris, The Anglo-Saxons: A History of the Beginnings of England, 400-1066 (London and New York, 2021), 203-45, 251-2. For the best overview of the reign of Alfred the Great, see R. Abels, Alfred the Great: War, Kingship and Culture in Anglo-Saxon England (London, 1998).
[2] A. P. Smyth, King Alfred the Great (Oxford and New York, 1995), 418-20.
[3] Morris, Anglo-Saxons, 252.
[4] Smyth, King Alfred the Great, 436.
[5] The best recent study of the witan as well as assemblies in Anglo-Saxon kingship is L. Roach, Kingship and Consent in Anglo-Saxon England, 871-978: Assemblies and the State in the Early Middle Ages (Cambridge, 2013).
[6] Morris, Anglo-Saxons, 252; Smyth, King Alfred the Great, 436-7.
[7] Smyth, King Alfred the Great, 436-7.
[8] Morris, Anglo-Saxons, 255; Smyth, King Alfred the Great, 436.
[9] Smyth, King Alfred the Great, 436.
[10] Morris, Anglo-Saxons, 295.
Great article! Oh, those names! Could you imagine Æthelwold’s grandmother yelling at the dog to get off the couch!
“Ælfweard! No—Æthelred! Uhtred? Oh, blast it—Byrhtnoth, get down this instant! Oh… whatever your name is!”
Enjoyed the article, and looking forward to the next one on Raymond.
The question of Brihtsige’s identity is an interesting one, all we know from the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle is that he was the son of an atheling - Beornoth. Some have suggested that he was a Mercian prince, hailing from the B dynasty. If so the implication is clearly that Æthelwold would rule in Wessex and Brihtsige in Mercia.