Cnut may be said to have been three times elected to the crown. The first time is in 1014, on the death of his father Swegen (see p. 367), when the election was made wholly by the Danish fleet, and when the Witan of England passed their vote for the restoration of Æthelred. But on the death of Æthelred he seems to have been more regularly elected by a large portion at least of the English Witan. The fact is not stated in the Chronicles, but it is distinctly affirmed by Florence, and the words of the Chronicles (1016), if carefully studied, will perhaps be found to give the statement of Florence a negative confirmation. It is only the latest and least authoritative version of the Chronicles, the Canterbury manuscript, which states the election of Eadmund to have been an act of the Witan of all England; “And æfter his [Æðelredes] ende ealle Angelcynnes witan gecuron Eadmund to cinge.” The three other Chroniclers seem carefully to mark the act as more partial and local. They say only, “And þá æfter his ende ealle ða witan þá on Lundene wǽron and seo burhwaru gecuron Eadmund to cýninge.” When we remember that London was the only place which still held out, and that Wessex itself was in the power of Cnut, we shall probably have little difficulty in accepting the account in Florence. His words are as follows;
“Cujus [Ægelredi] post mortem, episcopi, abbates, duces, et quique nobiliores Angliæ, in unum congregati, pari consensu, in dominum et regem sibi Canutum elegere, et ad eum in Suthamtonia venientes, omnemque progeniem regis Ægelredi coram illo abnegando repudiantes, pacem cum eo composuere, et fidelitatem illi juravere; quibus et ille juravit quod, et secundum Deum et secundum seculum, fidelis esse vellet eis dominus. At cives Lundonienses, et pars nobilium, qui eo tempore consistebant Lundoniæ, clitonem Eadmundum unanimi consensu in regem levavere.”
I accept then the double election, and there can be no doubt that the election of Eadmund was the earlier of the two. The Witan of his party were on the spot, while those who chose Cnut had to come together from various places to Southampton. The election of Eadmund also seems to have been followed by a coronation, while the election of Cnut answered rather to the submission made to William at Berkhampstead, between which and his coronation at Westminster some little time passed. Florence seems pointedly to exclude a coronation of Cnut, while, though he does not distinctly affirm, he seems rather to imply the ceremony in the case of Eadmund. For he immediately adds, “qui solii regalis sublimatus culmine, intrepidus West-Saxoniam adiit sine cunctatione.” And Eadmund’s coronation in Saint Paul’s by Lyfing appears in three later, but two of them very respectable, authorities. Ralph de Diceto, in his series of Archbishops of Canterbury (Ang. Sacr. ii. 683), says of Lyfing, “Hic consecravit Edmundum Ferreum Latus, et postmodum Cnutonem regem Daciæ.” So Bromton (904), “Londonienses cum nonnulla parte procerum Edmundum filium regis Ethelredi in regem levaverunt, qui a Livingo Dorobernensi archiepiscopo apud Londonias consecratus est.” And in the list of coronations in the Rishanger volume (426) we read,
“Anno gratiæ millesimosexto-decimo, Londoniis, coronatio Edmundi Ferrei Lateris, filii regis Ethelredi, qui in eodem anno proditionaliter interfectus, Glastoniæ est sepultus.
“Anno gratiæ millesimo septimo-decimo, Londoniis, coronatio Cnutonis regis, filii David. Hic vicesimo regni anno mortuus, apud Wyntoniam est humatus.”
I have no notion whatever why Swegen or Otto should be called David; but these entries in Rishanger, though not contemporary, are not the obiter dicta of a man who is carelessly compiling a story, but the assertions of a man who is giving the results of his special inquiries into a special subject. As therefore there is no contemporary authority to set against them, and as they fit in with the slight indication in Florence, I accept them. Lyfing then was one of the Witan who were in London with Eadmund, and he performed the ceremony of Eadmund’s royal consecration at once on his election. But Cnut remained uncrowned till after his second or third election after the death of Eadmund. This was doubtless one reason among others why, in the agreement between Cnut and Eadmund, the Imperial dignity remained with the West-Saxon.
It is worth noticing that both candidates were most likely chosen over the heads of their own elder brothers. Cnut clearly was so chosen at his first election by the Danish fleet. In choosing a successor to Swegen in his conquered kingdom of England, Harold, who succeeded him in Denmark (see p. 366), was passed by in favour of his more promising brother. At the Southampton election Cnut was chosen on the same grounds on which William was afterwards chosen, because he was the conqueror, and a conqueror far more fully in possession of the conquered land than William was in December 1066. If Harold had any share in the war, he was altogether overshadowed by his brother. But was Eadmund the eldest surviving son of Æthelred? We have seen in the last Note that he had two elder brothers, Æthelstan and Ecgbriht. Of these there can be little doubt that Ecgbriht was dead, but the case is not so clear about Æthelstan. One story, which I shall have to examine in the next Note, seems to hint that he took a part in the war of Cnut and Eadmund and died during its course. His will, of which I have already spoken and shall have to speak again, was made during his father’s lifetime, but it does not follow that he died before his father. The point is an obscure one, but it is worth inquiring into, for to choose a younger brother over the head of an elder, though a perfectly legal measure, was a strong and unusual one. If it be the fact, it does equal honour to both brothers. The merits of Eadmund must have been great, if he was thus preferred to an elder brother, while no praise can be too great for the conduct of Æthelstan in quietly accepting and loyally serving a younger brother thus chosen over his own head.
Another question arises as to the ecclesiastical position of Cnut at the time of the Southampton election. It is not very clear when Cnut was baptized; our notices on this point have to be sought for in rather out of the way places. In the Aquitanian history of Ademar, iii. 55 (Pertz, iv. 140), we read, “Rex Canotus de Danamarcha paganus, mortuo Adalrado rege Anglorum, regnum ejus dolo cepit et reginam Anglorum in conjugium accepit, quæ erat soror comitis Rotomensis Richardi, et factus Christianus utraque regna tenuit, et quoscumque potuit ex paganis de Danamarcha ad fidem Christi pertraxit.” Another manuscript adds, “Pater ejus paganus nomine Asquec solum regnum de Danamarca tenuit.” “Asquec” as the name of Cnut’s father seems at first sight as incomprehensible as the name David, but Pertz is doubtless right in hinting that it is a corruption of his nickname Tveskiæg, “Fork-beard,” or, in plain English, Two-shag. The religion of Swegen, as we have seen, is a problem, but the chances are certainly against his son being baptized in his infancy. One Danish Chronicler, as we have already seen (see p. 375), makes Cnut be baptized by Unwan, Archbishop of Bremen, in the middle of his war with Æthelred; and this may seem to draw some confirmation from the statement of the Scholiast on Adam of Bremen, 38 (ii. 50); “Knut, filius Suein regis, abjecto nomine gentilitatis, in baptismo Lambertus nomen accepit. Unde scriptum est in libro fraternitatis nostræ Lambrecht rex Danorum, et Imma regina, et Knut filius eorum, devote se commendaverunt orationibus fratrum Bremensium.” If Cnut was baptized by the name of Lambert, he was none the less always called by his heathen name, just as his father was never known as Otto, nor Rolf as Robert. We also read in Osbern’s tract on the Translation of Saint Ælfheah (Ang. Sacr. ii. 144) that Archbishop Æthelnoth was “regi [Cnutoni] propterea quod illum sancto chrismate livisset valde acceptus.” This cannot refer to his coronation, which was not performed by Æthelnoth, and it can hardly refer to his baptism. I suspect therefore that it refers to confirmation, and that Cnut was confirmed at the time of the Southampton election. His case would thus be very like that of the elder Olaf (see above, p. 290), who was confirmed after a much earlier baptism at the time of his peace with Æthelred. The Christianity of Cnut at the time of that election is plainly implied in the words of the oath put into his mouth by Florence.
The final accession of Cnut after the death of Eadmund forms the first entry in each of the four Chronicles under the year 1017; “Hér on þissum geare feng Cnut kyning tó eallon Angelcynnes [Englalandes, Ab.] ryce.” The Winchester Chronicle alone, in one of its short and occasional entries, says, “Her Cnut wearð gecoren to kinge.” The expression in the other four is probably chosen advisedly; for, as Cnut succeeded by virtue of the terms of the Olney compact, there was no need of any formal election. Florence, whose fuller account I have followed in the text, uses the words expressive of election only in a sort of incidental way; “Ipse juraverunt illi quod eum regem sibi eligere vellent, eique humiliter obedire.” What he chiefly insists on is the examination of the witnesses—false witnesses, as he says they were—to show that Cnut really was entitled to succeed under the compact. Florence divides the details of Cnut’s accession between the two years 1016 and 1017; he might thus be thought to speak of two distinct assemblies; but as there is no trace of more than one in the Chronicles, I am disposed to think that the two accounts are merely two narratives of the proceedings of the same Gemót, perhaps rather unskilfully borrowed from two sources. Florence begins the year on the first of January, and the ordinary session of a Midwinter Gemót, taking in the twelve days of Christmas, would really extend into both years. The coronation of Cnut, like the coronation of Harold, most likely took place on the feast of the Epiphany. We have seen that there is every reason to believe that the ceremony was performed in Saint Paul’s by Archbishop Lyfing. The coronation, it must be remembered, would involve the ecclesiastical election by clergy and people. See vol. iii. p. 627.
How utterly the real story was forgotten, and above all how utterly the true position of Cnut at the time of his father’s death passed out of his mind, is nowhere better shown than in the version of Walter Map (De Nugis, 202). The English, according to him, especially the Londoners, were so tired of Æthelred that they sent for help to Cnut, who, it would seem, had already founded his Northern Empire. “Erat illa tempestate regum omnium ditissimus et strenuissimus Dacorum rex Chnutus. Hic ab optimatibus Angliæ vocatus, et frequentibus epistolis illectus, non invitis sed invitantibus Anglicis et cum gaudio suscipientibus, cum exercitu nimio in Danesiam illapsus est, quæ nunc usque dicitur a Dacis, ut aiunt, Danesia.” (Where is “Danesey”?) Presently, Cnut comes, “ab invitatoribus suis Londoniensibus susceptus.”
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. 733), 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
(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. 558). 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. 417 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. 677), 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. 691). 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. 670) 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. 379), 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. 93); “Þá atto þeir orrosto micla á Hríngmaraheidi á Ulfkelslandi, þát ríki átti þá Ulfkell Snillingr.” (See above, p. 654.) 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. 404) 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. 670). 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. 129) 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. 688). 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. 134) 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. 375).... 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.
The conference between Cnut and Eadmund has grown in the hands of many historians, from Henry of Huntingdon onwards, into a single combat between the two Kings, which, as Mr. Earle says (Saxon Chronicles Parallel, 340), “became in the course of time one of the established sensation scenes of history.” The Chronicles and Florence know nothing of the story. The Chronicles simply say, “And coman begen þa cyningas togædre æt Olanige,” and go on to mention the terms of the agreement. So Florence, who is a little fuller; “Dein uterque rex in insulam quæ Olanege appellatur, et est in ipsius fluminis medio sita, trabariis advehitur, ubi pace, amicitia, fraternitate, et pacto et sacramentis confirmata, regnum dividitur.” The Knytlinga Saga knows nothing of the story, and the Encomiast (ii. 12, 13) describes at great length the negotiation which led to the division of the kingdom, without any reference to a combat. Mr. Earle ingeniously suggests that the notion of the combat arose from a misunderstanding of the words of the Chronicles, as the words “coman togædre” might mean either a hostile meeting or a friendly conference,—the latter of course being their meaning here.
It is hardly worth while to go at length through all the later versions, but the utterly different accounts in William of Malmesbury and Henry of Huntingdon, and the strange tale of Walter Map, may well be compared together. According to William (ii. 180), Eadmund had already collected a new army in Gloucestershire, and the two armies are standing ready for battle, “quum infestis signis constitissent.” Then Eadmund, to spare further bloodshed (“ne duo homunculi propter ambitionem regnandi tot subjectorum sanguine culparentur”), proposes a single combat. This challenge Cnut refuses, on the ground that he would have no chance against a man so much bigger and stronger than himself as Eadmund was; “Abnuit prorsus, pronuncians animo se quidem excellere sed contra tam ingentis molis hominem corpusculo diffidere.” He proposes instead that, as each of them had a fair claim to a kingdom which had been held by his father (“quia ambo non indebite regnum efflagitent, quod patres amborum tenuerint”), instead of fighting for the kingdom, they should divide it between them. The armies on both sides agree, and the division is quietly carried out, though seemingly against the wishes of Eadmund, who is spoken of as “unanimi clamore omnium superatus.” In Henry of Huntingdon (M. H. B. 756 C, D), when the armies are gathered together in Gloucestershire for the seventh time, the chief men (“proceres”), seemingly on both sides, agree that, instead of another battle, the two Kings shall decide the matter by single combat (“pugnent singulariter qui regnare student singulariter”). The Kings approve, and Henry adds, “nec enim mediocris erat rex Cnut probitatis.” They fight therefore in Olney (“positi igitur reges in Olanie duellum inceperunt”). Henry of Huntingdon seems to have been not quite clear whether he ought to describe a French tournament or a Scandinavian holmgang. There is no mention of horses, but we read of the lances being broken, and it is not till then that the champions draw their swords. Then the fight really begins. The people on each side behold and listen to the “horribiles tinnitus et igneas collisiones,” which most likely come from a ballad. The strength of Eadmund however has the better of it (“tandem vigor incomparabilis Edmundi fulminare cœpit.” See above, p. 392). Cnut resists manfully, but begins to fear for his life; he therefore proposes that they shall fight no longer, but divide the kingdom and become sworn brothers (“fratres adoptivi”). Eadmund agrees (“his verbis juvenis mens generosa delinita est”), and they exchange the kiss of peace. Walter Map (De Nugis, 204) has yet another version. The armies meet one another “apud Durherst in valle Gloucestriæ super Sabrinam.” The Danes have the larger host (“Chnutus dimidium Angliæ cum Dacis adduxerat”). Still the Danes are afraid, because of the valour of the English and their own unjust cause. They therefore demand that the matter shall be settled by a single combat of champions (“Fiat pro bello duellum, et victor pugil domino suo regnum obtineat cæteris in pace dimisis”). Eadmund determines to fight himself and not by a champion; so Cnut determines to do the same (“quatinus informis absit imparitas, par enim congressio regum et bene consona”). They meet in the island on horseback, their horses are killed, and they fight on foot. The personal description of the Kings is quite unlike any other (“Chnutus procerus et major et altus, Edmundum grandem et planum, i.e. mediocriter pinguem, tam probo tam improbo fatigavit assultu”). They exchange sarcasms and go on fighting, till the Danes, seeing Cnut in danger, demand that the Kings should make a treaty. They accordingly agree to divide the kingdom and to become sworn brothers (“Daci ... in fœdus eos hujusmodi multis coëgerunt precibus et lacrymis, quatinus æqualiter inter eos divisum possiderent tota vita sua regnum, et post mortem alterius succederet superstes in solidum, factique sunt ibi fratres et amici, fideque firmissima conglutinati”). Roger of Wendover (i. 457–459) tells the same story, but at much greater length and with a much greater display of eloquence. He attributes the first proposal of the single combat to Eadric (“iniquus dux Eadricus”). The fight and the proposal on the part of Cnut are essentially the same as in Henry of Huntingdon. Cnut makes a long speech, in which he sets forth the greatness of his own dominion in words which would have been somewhat beyond the truth some years later (“mihi Dacia servit, mihi Norwegia succumbit, mihi rex Suanorum manus dedit”). Besides the kiss of peace, the exchange of arms and clothes is described (“in signum pacis vestes mutantes et arma, fit Eadmundus Cnuto et Cnuto Eadmundus”). The exchange of garments is also mentioned by Florence in his account of the peaceful conference (“armis et vestibus mutatis ... ab invicem discesserunt”); but if the tradition followed by William of Malmesbury as to the personal stature of the two Kings be at all trustworthy, a judgement of Cyrus would presently have been needed to restore the clothes to their former owners.
The place of meeting, the island in the Severn called Olney, is placed near Deerhurst by the Worcester Chronicler, by Florence, and by Walter Map, all of whom had local knowledge; the other Chronicles do not mention its position. Mr. Earle (Parallel Chronicles, 341) places it close to Gloucester. I have not examined either place for the purpose, but I should be inclined to look on the witness of the Hwiccian writers as decisive.
As for the terms of the treaty, three of the Chronicles simply assign Wessex to Eadmund and Mercia to Cnut. It was perhaps held that Cnut was already King of the Northumbrians, and that his possession of that kingdom could not be called in question. The Worcester Chronicle says more exactly, “and feng þa Eadmund cyng to Westsexan and Cnut to þam norð dǽle.” Florence makes the important addition of East-Anglia, Essex, and London to the share of Eadmund. Henry of Huntingdon gives London to Cnut; “Edmundus regnum suscepit Westsexe, Cnut vero regnum Merce suscipiens reversus est Londoniam.” William of Malmesbury follows the three Chronicles. The Encomiast (ii. 13) talks simply of North and South. The English deputies say to Cnut, “Dominare in australi”—for which we must of course read “boreali”—“parte cum quiete, e regione autem sit noster Ædmundus in finibus meridianæ plagæ.” Walter Map (De Nugis, 206) gives quite another division; “Chnutus Lundoniam et illas trans Hichenild partes habebat, Edmundus alias.” This reads like an utter turning about of the whole geography; the Icknild way is an approach to the frontier as traced by Florence; only Cnut is placed in Wessex and East-Anglia, and Eadmund in the rest of the kingdom. I have no doubt as to accepting the line drawn by Florence. Ever since the extinction of the short-lived dynasty of Guthrum, we always find East-Anglia heartily throwing in its lot with Wessex, never with Mercia and Northumberland.
The distinct statement that the Imperial supremacy was reserved to Eadmund is found, oddly enough, only in Roger of Wendover. His text runs thus;
“Dividitur itaque regnum, Eadmundo dictante, inter duos, ita ut corona totius regni regi remaneat Eadmundo; cedunt ergo in usus ejus totam Angliam ad australem plagam Thamesis fluminis, cum Est-Sexia et Est Anglia et civitate Londoniarum, quæ caput est regni; Cnutone etiam aquilonales partes Angliæ obtinente.”
Roger would of course be by himself no authority on such a point; but it is plain that he is copying Florence. In the text of Florence there is a gap, which can be filled up only, as Mr. Thorpe has filled it, with the words of Roger;
“West-Saxoniam, East-Angliam, East-Saxoniam cum Lundonia [civitate, et totam terram ad australem plagam Tamesis fluminis obtinuit Eadmundus, Canuto aquilonares partes Angliæ obtinente; corona tamen] regni Eadmundo mansit.”
A certain superiority on the part of Eadmund appears also in the words of William of Malmesbury; “Edmundus ... concordiæ indulsit, fœdusque cum Cnutone percussit, sibi West-Saxoniam, illi concedens Merciam.” Henry of Huntingdon (756 C), on the other hand, falls into the mistake of supposing that Cnut occupied London after the battle of Assandun, perhaps that he was crowned then; “Rex Cnut, tanta fretus victoria, Londoniam et sceptra cepit regalia.” In the Encomiast Cnut naturally takes a lofty tone; the other King is to be his tributary. Such at least seems to be the meaning of the words, “Sed tamen vectigal etiam suæ partis vester rex, quicumque ille fuerit, exercitui dabit meo. Hoc enim illi debeo, ideoque aliter pactum non laudo.” It is hard to weigh the exact meaning of these rhetorical writers, but this sounds like something more lasting than the single Danegeld which was undoubtedly to be paid. This last is witnessed by the Chronicles. The Kings, among their other agreements, “þæt gyld setton wið þone here.” So Florence, “Tributo quod classicæ manui penderetur statuto.”
One point still remains. After the death of Eadmund, Cnut, according to the account in Florence, claimed his dominions by virtue of the Olney compact. He asks the witnesses whether any provision had been made for the succession of the brothers or sons of Eadmund, in case Eadmund died before Cnut; “Interrogavit ... qualiter ipse et Eadmundus de fratribus et filiis ejusdem inter se loquuti fuissent. Utrum fratribus et filiis ejus liceret in regno Occidentalium Saxonum post patrem eorum regnare, si Eadmundus moreretur vivente illo.” They made the answer which I have given in the text at p. 405; “Se proculdubio scire quod rex Eadmundus fratribus suis nullam portionem regni sui, nec se spirante neque moriente, commendasset; dixeruntque hoc se nosse, Eadmundum regem velle Canutum adjutorem et protectorem esse filiorum ejus, donec regnandi ætatem habuissent.” Florence goes on to say that their witness was false, and that the false witnesses were, when a convenient season came, characteristically put to death by Cnut. But an agreement that each King should succeed to the dominions of the other, that is, that the adoptive brother should be preferred to the brother by blood, is in every way likely. Such an agreement is directly asserted in the Knytlinga Saga, c. 16 (Johnstone, 139). Cnut and Eadmund divide the land and swear that, if either of them dies childless, he shall succeed to the dominions of the other (“sva, at skipta skylldi i helminga lanndi med þeim, oc hafa halft riki hvarr, medan þeir lifdi; enn ef annarrhvarr anndadiz barnlauss, þa skylldi sa taka allt rikit med frialsu, er eptir lifdi; oc var su sætt eidum bunndin”). In Saxo (192) the agreement between Cnut and Eadmund (whom he calls Eadward) is all on one side; Cnut is to have half the kingdom while Eadmund lives, and the whole at his death (“Edvardus ... pactum cum hoste conseruit, ut quoad ipse viveret, Canutum dimidii regni consortem haberet, extinctus omnium honorum hæredem relinqueret”). This would seem to shut out Eadmund’s children, which seems inconsistent with the account in Florence. But some agreement to exclude the brothers on each side was almost necessary. A claim on the part of one of the Æthelings to succeed Eadmund, a claim on the part of Harold of Denmark to succeed Cnut, would be almost sure to be put forward. And it might be thought to be on the whole for the common interest of both Kings to shut out such claims. The brothers on both sides were much more dangerous than the sons. Cnut most likely had no children as yet. And even if either of the doubtful brood of Ælfgifu of Northampton was already born, he must have still been in his cradle. So were the two little Æthelings, the “clitunculi” of Florence, the sons of Eadmund and Ealdgyth. The words of the witnesses clearly imply that these children were put in a different position from their uncles. The possibility of their coming to the crown is recognized; Cnut is to be their guardian till they are of age to reign. Of course this does not mean that he was to resign in their favour when they came of age; it means only that they were to be in the same position as other minor Æthelings, as the sons of Æthelred the First (see p. 109) or the sons of Eadmund the Magnificent (see p. 63). They were to be passed over for the present; at any future vacancy they might be elected or they might not. An arrangement of this kind seems to agree both with the words of the witnesses and with the circumstances of the case. I assume of course that, if Cnut was to succeed Eadmund, Eadmund was equally to succeed Cnut, just as in the agreement between Harthacnut and Magnus (see p. 508). No other terms would be possible in an agreement between two sworn brothers, in which whatever superiority there was to be on either side was reserved to Eadmund.
The Chronicles are silent as to the manner and place of Eadmund’s death. All that they say is, “Þá to Sc̃e Andreas mæssan forðferde se kyning Eadmund.” Florence adds, “decessit Lundoniæ.” He mentions neither Cnut nor Eadric, and in a later passage he seems to exclude Eadric. At least when Cnut puts Eadric to death, the reason is said to be, “quia timebat insidiis ab eo aliquando circumveniri, sicut domini sui priores Ægelredus et Eadmundus frequenter sunt circumventi.” If Florence had thought that Eadmund was killed by Eadric, he would surely have said so more plainly. The treasons of Eadric towards Æthelred and towards Eadmund are put on a level, and no one ever charged Eadric with the death of Æthelred. Florence, as his whole narrative shows, was not slack at attributing crimes to Eadric, but that he had anything to do with the death of Eadmund he nowhere hints.
The language of the Encomiast (ii. 14) is obscure and mysterious, and his way of speaking of the Deity may be thought slightly anthropomorphic. God, in his wisdom, took away Eadmund, lest the contention for the crown should be renewed, and in order that Cnut might possess the whole kingdom peaceably. The whole passage is remarkable;
“Verumtamen Deus, memor suæ antiquæ doctrinæ, scilicet omne regnum in seipsum divisum diu permanere non posse, non longo post tempore Ædmundum eduxit e corpore, Anglorum misertus Imperii, ne forte, si uterque superviveret, neuter regnaret secure, et regnum diatim adnihilaretur renovata contentione.... Cujus rei gratia eum Deus jusserit obire, mox deinde patuit; quia universa regio illico Cnutonem sibi regem elegit, et cui ante omni conamine restitit, tunc sponte sua se illi et omnia sua subdidit.”
Adam of Bremen, who is not very well versed in English genealogy, says (ii. 51), “Frater Adelradi Emund, vir bellicosus, in gratiam victoris veneno sublatus est.” The murderer, whether Eadric or any one else, is not mentioned, and the words, though they might be taken as accusing Cnut, perhaps rather point to a version more like some of those which I shall presently mention.
We now come to the long string of English writers who accuse Eadric. William of Malmesbury (ii. 180) says that Eadmund died “ambiguum quo casu extinctus;” he then goes on to mention the charge against Eadric as a rumour;
“Fama Edricum infamat, quod favore alterius mortem ei per ministros porrexerit. Cubicularios regis fuisse duos, quibus omnem vitam suam commiserat, quos pollicitationibus illectos, et primo immanitatem flagitii exhorrentes, brevi complices suos effecisse. Ejus consilio ferreum uncum, ad naturæ requisita sedenti, in locis posterioribus adegisse.”
Here the deed is done by two chamberlains of Eadmund. In another version the actual murderer is a son of Eadric. The intention of this change is obvious. The son of Eadric is of course meant to be a son of Eadmund’s sister Eadgyth, so that we get the additional horror of a sisters son killing his uncle. It was either forgotten that a son of Eadric and Eadgyth would be a mere child, or else to kill Eadmund by the hand of a child was thought to be a further improvement. The scene is also placed at Oxford. In this shape we get the tale in Henry of Huntingdon (M. H. B. 756 D);
“Edmundus rex post paucos exhinc dies proditione occisus est apud Oxineford. Sic autem occisus est. Quum rex hostibus suis terribilis et timendissimus in regno floreret, ivit nocte quadam in domum evacuationis ad requisita naturæ, ubi filius Edrici ducis in fovea secretaria delitescens consilio patris, regem inter celanda cultello his acuto percussit, et inter viscera ferrum figens, fugiens reliquit.”
Walter Map (De Nugis, 205–207) has a very strange story, in which, among other things, he takes care to keep the whole tale in his own part of England. He nowhere names Eadric, but, just as before in the case of Æthelred (see above, p. 658), he speaks of a “servus” whose relations to Eadmund would seem to have been somewhat the same as those of Chiffinch to Charles the Second. This man asks the King for the lands of Minsterworth in Gloucestershire, a parish of which Walter himself was parson, and which, according to his account of the division (see above, p. 708), would come within the share of Eadmund. The King does not refuse the gift, but delays it. The servant plans his death, and carries out his purpose at Minsterworth by much the same means as those described by William of Malmesbury and Henry of Huntingdon. The King, mortally wounded at Minsterworth, is carried to die at Ross.
Roger of Wendover (i. 459) tells the story in nearly the same words as Henry of Huntingdon, beginning with a panegyric on Eadmund which is essentially the same as the panegyrics on Godwine, Harold, and others (see vol. ii. c. vii. and above, p. 400); “Rex Anglorum Eadmundus, dum justis in regno appareret mansuetus et pius ac injustis terribilis et crudelis, invidit ejus bonitati dux et proditor Eadricus, Merciorum dominus, et qualiter eum perderet infatigabiliter cogitavit.” The opportunity comes when Eadmund is at Oxford, which is evidently looked on as a town within Eadric’s government. The title “Merciorum dominus” is odd. We have heard of nothing like it since Æthelred and Æthelflæd. See above, p. 574.
Bromton (X Scriptt. 906) gives three versions, that of Florence, that of Henry of Huntingdon, and a third. He decides in favour of that of Henry; “Verior aliis et authenticior habetur.” His other version contains quite a new story, but one which shows that the story of the murder of Ælfhelm was running in the heads of those who devised it. Nothing else could have suggested the description of Eadric as “Edricus perfidus comes Salopiæ semper proditor.” Eadmund and Eadric are now on good terms; the Earl asks the King to visit him at his house, seemingly either at Shrewsbury or at Oxford. After the evening meal, the King is led to his bedroom. He there finds a figure of an archer of wonderful workmanship, with his bow bent and an arrow ready to shoot. He examines and touches it; the arrow goes off, and pierces and kills Eadmund, that being the end for which the ingenious piece of mechanism was made. This introduction of a mechanical contrivance instead of the simpler forms of murder which we find in the earlier forms of the story may be paralleled with the other mechanical contrivance which appears in the later forms of the story of Eadric’s own death. See Note BBB.
Knighton (X Scriptt. 2316) brings in the death of Eadmund with a most amazing preface. Eadmund has reigned five years, and he is then put to death at Gloucester, seemingly by a vote of the Witan, on a charge of favouring the Danes, a precedent which seems not to have been remembered in 1649. It seems to be only the manner of his death which is left to the ingenuity of Eadric. The words run thus;
“Edmundus quinto anno regni sui apud Gloverniam, pro eo quod barones sui suspicabantur eum proditorem et subversorem communis profectus regni sui [“a tyrant, traitor, murderer, and public enemy”], eo quod nimis inclinatus fuit antedictis Danis et prætulit eorum consilium, consilio regiorum suorum juratorum fidelium, incurrit mortem infra scriptam. De morte ejus multæ sunt opiniones, sed sufficiat una pro omnibus, quum sit per proditionem occisum Edrici.”
He then tells the story of the archer, which he calls “unum tristegum cum imagine ad similitudinem unius sagittarii.” Ducange (in voce) is puzzled at the “tristegum,” which generally means a structure of three stages, whether a house or a moveable tower. Knighton then tells, as an alternative version, the story of Henry of Huntingdon, only making Eadric himself the actual murderer, but with a further alternative of the two chamberlains. He adds that Eadric at once went to the widowed Ealdgyth, took her two children from her, and carried them away to Cnut.
With regard to the place where all this happened, we have seen that the Chroniclers are silent, that Florence names London, that Henry of Huntingdon names Oxford, while other writers name various other places. Amidst all this contradiction it is safest to cleave to Florence. But Mr. James Parker (History of Oxford, p. 26 and Postscriptum 3) argues strongly on behalf of Oxford. His best argument is that Oxford lies on the road between Gloucester and London, and that it is the last place within the Mercian jurisdiction of Eadric. But this assumes that Eadric was at this moment Earl of the Mercians. He was so at an earlier and at a later time, and it is assumed in the version of Roger of Wendover that Oxford was at this time under his government. But the position of Eadric at this moment is quite uncertain, and a story of a murder done by Eadric in his own earldom, especially a murder done at Oxford, seems to connect this story with the stories of Ælfhelm, Morkere, and Sigeferth, the former husband of Eadmund’s wife Ealdgyth. The mention of Shrewsbury in the so-called Bromton clearly comes from the same mint, and it seems to me that the mention of either Oxford or Shrewsbury is a part of the mythopœic process. Those who put together this version most likely forgot that Oxford lay within Cnut’s share of the kingdom.
In none of these English versions is it hinted that Cnut had any share in the deed. Eadric, in a later stage of the story, pleads the murder of Eadmund as a merit towards Cnut, and that is all. It is only by Cnut’s own countrymen that he is directly charged with the crime. The Knytlinga Saga (c. 16; Johnstone, 139) calmly tells us that Eadric, the confident and foster-brother of Eadmund, killed him—we are not told how—on the receipt of a bribe from Cnut. “Heidrekr Striona het ein rikr madr, er fe tok til þess af Knuti konungi, et hann sviki Jatmund konung, oc dræpi hann med mordvigi, oc þetta var hans bani: Heidrekr var þo fostri Jatmundar konungs, oc trudi hann honom sem sialfun ser.” Saxo (192, 193) has a story how, seven years after the agreement with Eadmund, Cnut is saluted at supper by some nameless person as King of all England. The bearers of the news then say that they have killed Eadmund to win Cnut’s favour, on which Cnut puts them to death. This is of course one version of the death of Eadric. See Note BBB. Saxo then adds, “Memorant alii Edvardum [Edmundum, see above, p. 710] clandestino Canuti imperio occisum, ejusdemque jussu pœnam a maleficis gratia demendæ suspicionis exactam. Ut enim innocentiæ suæ fidem adstrueret, seque ei culpæ affinem fuisse negaret, gravius in sceleratos consulendum putavit. Ea tamen res primum regis apud domesticos favorem quassavit.” These last words are very remarkable. They seem to fall in with several hints from other sources, which seem to show that Cnut, at least in his later days, was much less popular in Denmark than in England.
Snorro, in the Saga of Saint Olaf (Laing, ii. 21; Johnstone, 98), simply says that Eadric killed Eadmund; “Á sama mánadi drap Heinrekr Striona Eadmund konung.” But he adds that Cnut at once drove all the sons of Æthelred out of England, and quotes the poet Sigvat, who is also quoted in the Knytlinga Saga, who says that Cnut either killed or banished all the sons of Æthelred.