The allusion here must be either to Eadmund or to Eadwig (see the next Note), most likely to Eadmund.
Of the manner of Eadmund’s death there is no mention in any of these writers. But the singularly base form of murder which so many English writers attribute to Eadric or his emissaries was not without other examples in that age. The younger Dedi of Saxony was said to have been killed in this way in 1068, and Gozelo, Duke of Lotharingia, in 1078 (see Lambert in annis, pp. 74 and 221 of the lesser Pertz). And the great Countess herself is charged with doing the like to her husband “Gigo, Duke of Normandy,” (Vit. Mat. c. viii; Muratori, v. 393). It is also essentially the same as the way in which the defender of Stamfordbridge was killed (see Hen. Hunt. M. H. B. 762 B), and a large part of a German army is said to have been destroyed in nearly the same way when the Emperor Henry the Fifth invaded Poland in 1109. Dlugoss, Hist. Pol. lib. iv. vol. i. col. 378 (ed. Lips. 1711).
And now as to the truth of the story. I think we can hardly do more than say, with William of Malmesbury, “ambiguum quo casu extinctus.” Eadmund died at a moment most convenient for Cnut. Cnut therefore, whether he really had a hand in his death or not, was sure to be suspected of it. Eadric was held to be capable of every crime, and was popularly believed to be the actual doer of every crime that was done. Eadric therefore was sure to be suspected as well as Cnut. Eadric was doubtless capable of the crime; so, I fear, was Cnut also at this time of his life. But the direct evidence against either does not seem strong enough for a conviction. The silence of Florence, compared with his language elsewhere, tells in favour of Eadric. The silence of all the English writers tells in favour of Cnut. This silence could hardly be owing to his later popularity in England, which has thrown no veil over the other crimes of his early reign. Florence can hardly fail to have heard the charge both against Eadric and against Cnut, but, while speaking of their other crimes, he leaves this out. On the other hand, there is something which tells against Cnut in the studied obscurity and overdone piety of the special panegyrist of himself and his wife.
Nothing can be plainer than that Eadwig King of the Churls is quite a different person from Eadwig the Ætheling. The two are confounded by Bromton (907), who says, “Consilio Edrici exlegavit Edwinum, Edmundi regis fratrem, qui ceorlesking, id est rex rusticorum, appellabatur; postmodum tamen dolose reconciliatus, factione secretariorum suorum fraudulenter occisus est.”
I can offer no guess as to the reason of the singular surname of “ceorla cyning,” which is found in the three Chronicles, Abingdon, Worcester, and Peterborough. Nor can I say anything as to Eadwig’s earlier history. An “Eadwig minister” signs a charter of Æthelred in 1005 (Cod. Dipl. iii. 345), and before that, in 996, land at Bensington had been granted by Æthelred (vi. 136) to three brothers, Eadric, Eadwig, and Ealdred. As to the fate of the King of the Churls, the Worcester and Peterborough Chronicles, followed by Florence, place his banishment in 1017, Florence adding, “vero sequenti tempore cum rege pacificatus est Eadwius.” The Abingdon Chronicle puts off his banishment to the Gemót at Cirencester in 1020. Possibly he was outlawed, reconciled, and outlawed again. We hear nothing of his death.
Of the Ætheling Eadwig, the Worcester and Peterborough Chronicles (1017) simply say, “Cnut cyning aflymde ut Eadwig æðeling.” Abingdon adds, “and eft hine hét ofslean.” Florence, under the years 1016 and 1017, has two stories which it is not very easy to reconcile with one another. I suspect however that they arose, like the other statements of Florence under the years 1016 and 1017, out of two different accounts of the acts of Cnut’s first Midwinter Gemót. The first version, under 1016, immediately follows the vote by which the sons and brothers of Eadmund were set aside. It was followed by a vote of banishment against the Ætheling Eadwig—“Eadwius egregius et reverendissimus regis Eadmundi germanus.” Then Cnut holds a conference with Eadric, and asks him if he can by any means beguile Eadwig to death (“quomodo decipere posset Eadwium, ut mortis subiret periculum”). Eadric answers that there is a man fitter for the purpose than himself, namely a nobleman named Æthelweard—which of all the Æthelweards it is hard to say, but he is described as being “ex nobilissimo genere Anglorum ortus.” Æthelweard, it seems, had better opportunities of familiar intercourse with the Ætheling than Eadric had. Cnut sends for Æthelweard and makes him the largest promises, if he will undertake the murder of Eadwig. “Bring me his head,” says Cnut, “and you shall be dearer to me than a brother.” Æthelweard undertakes the task, but, like Uhtred in the case of Thurbrand, without any intention of performing it. So Eadwig escapes, at least for one while.
Directly after, under 1017, as soon as Florence has recorded the fourfold division of England and the mutual oaths of Cnut and the English, he goes on to say that, by the advice of Eadric (“consilio perfidi ducis Eadrici”), Cnut banished both Eadwigs (“rex Canutus clitonem Eadwium, regis Eadmund igermanum, et Eadwium, qui rex appellabatur rusticorum, exlegavit”). He goes on to say that the King of the Churls was reconciled to Cnut, as I have already said, but that the Ætheling was treacherously murdered within the year by Cnut’s order (“Eadwius vero clito, deceptus illorum insidiis quos eotenus amicissimos habuit, jussu et petitione regis Canuti, eodem anno innocenter occiditur”). This account, which is perhaps really the same as the other, is of course founded on the Abingdon Chronicle.
William of Malmesbury (ii. 180) has quite another story, which recognizes the outlawry, but makes the Ætheling die a natural death. “Frater ejus [Edmundi] ex matre Edwius, non adspernandæ probitatis adolescens, per proditorem Edricum Anglia, jubente Cnutone, cessit; diu terris jactatus et alto, angore animi ut fit corpus infectus, dum furtivo reditu inter Anglos delitescit, defungitur, et apud Tavistokium tumulatur.”
Now we must choose between these stories. The authority of Florence, backed as to the main outline of the tale by the Abingdon Chronicle, is in itself much higher than that of William of Malmesbury. But Florence’s authority is in this case somewhat lessened by the confused way in which he tells the story twice over. Also tales of secret conferences and assassinations are always suspicious, and they are specially suspicious when they bring in the name of Eadric. If Eadwig died anyhow soon after his outlawry, people would be sure to say that he was made away with by Cnut and Eadric. But if he really was so made away with, it is hard to see how the story in William of Malmesbury could arise. Also, if Eadwig was outlawed, and therefore banished, it is hard to see how even Eadric would have the chance of murdering him, unless it is meant that he was treacherously pursued during his days of grace, as Godwine is said to have been (see vol. ii. c. vii). It can hardly mean that the hand of Eadric could reach banished men in foreign lands.
The character of Cnut, at this stage of his career, throws no light on the matter either way. But it is amusing to see Thierry turning the particular promise of Cnut to Æthelweard into a general advertisement for the heads of his enemies; “‘Qui m’apportera la tête d’un de mes ennemis,’ disait le roi danois avec la ferocité d’un pirate, ‘me sera plus cher que s’il était mon frère.’”
The prominent position of Godwine at the time of Cnut’s death is one of the most conspicuous facts of our history, and the combined evidence of the charters and of the Biographer of Eadward has enabled me to trace up his greatness to the earliest days of Cnut’s reign. But, when we ask for the birth and parentage of the man who became the greatest of English subjects, who so nearly became the father of a new line of English kings, we find ourselves involved in utter obscurity and contradiction. Was he the son of Child Wulfnoth the South-Saxon (see above, p. 663)? Was he the great-nephew of the arch-traitor Eadric? Or was he the son of a churl somewhere near Sherstone, introduced by the Dane Ulf to the favour of Cnut? Or is it possible that none of these accounts rests on any sure foundation, and that we must remain altogether in the dark as to the birth of Godwine and the events of his early life?
I will begin with the one fact which appears to be certain, that is the name of Godwine’s father. While the accounts of him agree in nothing else, all who mention his father at all agree in giving him the name of Wulfnoth. (It is hardly worth while to mention that Fordun, v. 11, makes Godwine a son of Eadric.) I have therefore not scrupled to speak in the text of Godwine the son of Wulfnoth. Still, as Godwine was one of the commonest names at the time, it is not safe to assume every Godwine, or even every Wulfnoth, whom we come across to be the Godwine and the Wulfnoth with whom we are concerned. But any case in which the two names come together is at least worthy of notice. There is absolutely no evidence whether any of the many signatures of various Godwines in the later days of Æthelred belong to the great Earl or not. But when the Ætheling Æthelstan, in his will (Cod. Dipl. iii. 363), makes bequests to two Godwines, and distinguishes one of them as the son of Wulfnoth, this raises a strong presumption, though it does not reach positive proof, that our Godwine is the Godwine intended. And, if the expressions of the bequest fall in with any circumstances in any of the accounts of Godwine, we reach, though still not quite positive proof, yet certainly the highest degree of probability.
What then is our available evidence on the subject? Our own historians, as far as direct statement goes, are silent. Godwine appears in the Chronicles as Earl of the West-Saxons and as chief supporter of Harthacnut, without any hint as to who he was. The writers who speak of his exploits in the time of Cnut are equally silent. Even his own panegyrist, the Biographer of Eadward, has nothing whatever to tell us as to his origin. The silence of the Chronicles is not wonderful; they commonly take people’s position for granted, and introduce them without any particular description. But the absence of any direct statement in all our authorities, good and bad, is certainly remarkable, and the silence of Godwine’s own special admirer, the Biographer of Eadward, is very remarkable indeed.
But, though none of our own historians introduces Godwine as the son or nephew of Wulfnoth, or of Eadric, or of any one else, yet we have, on authority which seems at first sight to be irresistible, two statements that a Wulfnoth was the father of Godwine, one statement that Eadric was the great-uncle of Godwine. Florence (anno 1007), in a passage which I have discussed in other Notes (see pp. 655, 663), says that one of Eadric’s brothers was named Æthelmær, and that Æthelmær was the father of Wulfnoth, the father of Earl Godwine. The Canterbury Chronicle (anno 1008) describes Child Wulfnoth the South-Saxon as “Godwines fæder eorles.” Most writers put these two statements together, and assume Godwine to be the son of Child Wulfnoth and Child Wulfnoth to be the nephew of Eadric. To me it seems that the two accounts are quite distinct, and that their statements are almost irreconcileable. Florence, who speaks of Godwine the son of Wulfnoth as the nephew of Eadric, does not say that Godwine was the son of Child Wulfnoth, nor does he in any way identify Child Wulfnoth with Wulfnoth the nephew of Eadric. The Canterbury Chronicler, who makes Godwine the son of Child Wulfnoth, is equally silent as to any kindred between Child Wulfnoth and Eadric. In fact, the way in which they write seems to shut out—perhaps is designedly meant to shut out—any such kindred either way. Florence speaks of “Wlnothus, pater West-Saxonum ducis Godwini;” directly afterwards he speaks of “Suth-Saxonicus minister Wlnothus.” This is the way in which a man would speak of two distinct Wulfnoths, not of the same. He says that “Brihtric, brother of Eadric, unjustly accused Child Wulfnoth.” This is not the way in which he would speak of a charge brought by one member of the family of which he had just given the pedigree against another member of the same family. Prima facie then, the Wulfnoth spoken of under 1007 and the Wulfnoth spoken of under 1008 are two different persons. Nor is it enough to say that, in the entry under 1008, Florence is translating the Worcester Chronicle, and that he keeps its language without trying to harmonize it with what he had himself just before said. Florence is here not merely translating, for he stops to put in a character of Brihtric of his own composition. It is certain that Florence cannot be quoted on behalf of the view that Godwine was the son of Child Wulfnoth; he seems indeed designedly to exclude any such parentage by distinguishing one Wulfnoth from the other.
The three elder Chronicles, Abingdon, Worcester, Peterborough, give us no information either way. Godwine’s name does not occur in any of them till after the death of Cnut. The Abingdon Chronicle, in describing Wulfnoth, calls him simply “Wulfnoð cild.” To this description the Worcester and Peterborough Chronicles add “þone Suðseaxscian;” the Canterbury Chronicler adds again, “Godwines fæder eorles.” All the Chroniclers knew, and they all thought it right to state, that Brihtric was the brother of Eadric; that he was the uncle of the man whom he was accusing, a fact surely quite as important, is not implied in any way. The combined evidence of all the Chronicles seems to me to go to distinguish Child Wulfnoth the South-Saxon from any Wulfnoth who was nephew to Eadric. The evidence of Florence goes the same way. As to the parentage of Godwine the three elder Chroniclers are silent. Florence affirms him to have been the son of Wulfnoth the nephew of Eadric; the Canterbury Chronicler affirms him to have been the son of Child Wulfnoth the South-Saxon. I do not say that these two statements are logically contradictory; but it certainly seems to me that, as a matter of historical evidence, they are very hard to reconcile.
Now which of these two accounts is the more probable? As far as authority goes, they are much on a level. Neither statement is strictly contemporary; indeed both of them are statements which in their own nature could not be contemporary; Wulfnoth, whoever he was, is described by a form which could not have been used till long after, when his son had become far more famous than himself. Each description is a mere insertion into an earlier text; each may be a mere hasty inference from likeness of name. The authority of Florence on such a matter is quite equal to that of the Canterbury Chronicle, the latest and least authoritative of the four. His statement too, as part of an insertion of some length, describing the character and family of Eadric, has more the air of a deliberately advised statement than the three words of the Canterbury Chronicler, which might have been inserted currente calamo. On the other hand, the statement of Florence is most unlikely in itself, while that of the Canterbury Chronicler has some external support of a very remarkable kind.
If we admit that Godwine was the great-nephew of Eadric, we are at once plunged into all kinds of chronological difficulties and into the strangest of family relations. Eadric was put to death in 1017; there is nothing to show that he was at all an aged man, rather the contrary. Godwine must have been at least a grown man in 1018, when he was already an Earl. Is it possible that Godwine was two generations younger than Eadric? Again, Eadric married Eadgyth the daughter of Æthelred; Eadward the son of Æthelred married Eadgyth the daughter of Godwine. Eadric may well have been a good deal older than his wife, who, as the daughter of a man who was born in 969, must have been young, and may have been almost a child, in 1007, the probable year of her marriage (see above, p. 658). Eadgyth again must have been some years older than her half-brother Eadward, who was born between 1002 and 1005 (see p. 686). Eadward again must have been much older than his wife Eadgyth, whose parents were married in 1019 (see p. 423). Still, allowing for all this, can we conceive a man marrying the great-great-niece of his own brother-in-law? The pedigree would stand thus;
Eadward may easily have been twenty years older than his wife, but can we believe that he belonged to the same generation as his wife’s great-grandfather?
This seems to me to be a strong objection to the statement of Florence. On the other hand, the statement of the Canterbury Chronicle curiously falls in with the bequest in the will of the Ætheling Æthelstan; “Ic gean Godwine Wulfnóðes suna ðes landes æt Cumtúne, ðe his feder ǽr áhte.” Why should Æthelstan leave Godwine the land which his father had? The bequest follows immediately on one in which the Ætheling leaves to one Ælfmær the land which had formerly been his own (“Ic gean Ælmére ðes landes æt Hamelande ðæ he ǽr áhte”). And this is followed by a very earnest prayer to his father to confirm the grant to Ælfmær (“Ic bidde minne feder for Godes ælmihtiges lufan and for minon, ðæt he ðes geunne ðe ic him geunnen hebbe”), which is not attached to any of his other bequests. Some special cause evidently lurks under such bequests as these. They naturally suggest the idea that the lands bequeathed were confiscated lands which Æthelstan thought it right to restore, in the one case to the former owner himself, in the other case to the former owner’s son. Now the lands of Child Wulfnoth would doubtless be confiscated after his doings in 1009, and a part of them might easily come into the possession of the Ætheling. For a possession of Child Wulfnoth the South-Saxon we naturally look in his own shire. And Domesday shows us two South-Saxon Comptons, one of them held by Harold (21), the other held by a tenant of Earl Godwine (24). Here is indeed no actual proof, but there is a remarkable series of undesigned coincidences in favour of the belief that Godwine was the son of Child Wulfnoth the South-Saxon, and therefore, as I think, against the belief that he was the great-nephew of Eadric.
This evidence, if it stood alone, would probably be thought quite conclusive; but there is another account of Godwine’s birth, which we could hardly, in any case, accept in its literal shape, but the existence of which is, in any case, a phænomenon to be accounted for, and which, when stripped of its romantic details, is in itself by no means devoid of likelihood. This is that Godwine was the son of a churl near the field of Sherstone or elsewhere.
This version appears in several places and in several forms, and it seems to come from more than one independent source of tradition. We hear of it alike in English, in Danish, and in Norman writers. Thus, while some Norman writers, as William of Jumièges (viii. 9), speak of Godwine’s nobility, Wace (Roman de Rou, 9809) expressly calls him
Among English writers it is first found in a writer of Henry the First’s time, whose accounts of things, though often very strange, are always independent. This is the chronicler whose work is printed in Mr. Edwards’ Liber de Hyda. In his account of Godwine, against whom he is bitterly prejudiced, he says (p. 288), “Fuit nempe ex infimo Anglorum genere ... et licet per omnes fere Angliæ partes potestas ejus extenderetur, principalis tamen comitatus ejus Australis erat, regio quæ lingua eorum dicitur Sudsexia.” So Ralph the Black, a chronicler of no great value who wrote early in the thirteenth century, distinctly asserts the peasant origin of Godwine. His whole story is full of mythical elements, still it is of some importance, because some of the statements in it clearly do not come from the common sources. His story runs thus (p. 160); “Godwinus Comes filius bubulci fuit; in mensa regis Edwardi offa suffocatus est, et ab Haraldo filio sub mensa extractus. Hic Godwinus, a rege Cnutone nutritus, processu temporis in Daciam cum breve regis transmissus, callide duxit sororem Cnutonis.” (See Note EEE.)
One of the fullest accounts among those which assert Godwine’s lowly origin, and that which has met with most attention from modern writers, is the picturesque tale in the Knytlinga Saga (c. 11; Johnstone, p. 131). Earl Ulf, pursuing the flying English at Sherstone, loses his way. He meets a youth driving cattle, who tells him that his name is Godwine (Gudini), and whom he asks to show him his way to the Danish ships. Godwine speaks of the difficulty of so doing, when the whole country is so enraged against the Danes; he refuses the Earl’s offered gift of a gold ring, but says that he will do what he can for him, and that, if he succeeds, Ulf may reward him at his pleasure. He then takes the Earl to the house of his father Wulfnoth (Ulfnad), who is described as a rich yeoman (bondi), living in very comfortable style. The Earl is well entertained, especially with good drink; he is greatly pleased with the house and its inhabitants, old and young, and stays the whole of the next day there in great comfort. At night Ulf and Godwine are mounted on two good horses, well caparisoned. Wulfnoth and his wife remind Ulf of the dangerous errand on which they are sending their only son, and they trust to his gratitude for a recompense. The Earl is charmed with the handsome countenance and ready speech of the youth; they ride all night, and reach Cnut’s ships the next morning. Ulf treats Godwine as his son, places him by his side, gives him his sister Gytha in marriage, presents him to Cnut, and procures for him the dignity of Earl.
Here we have a story which, whatever else we say of it, at least fits in with the chronology of the time. It must be a confused or perverted shape of the same tradition when Walter Map (199) tells a story in which the part of Ulf is assigned to King Æthelred. The King loses his way in hunting, and comes alone at night to ask shelter in the house of his neat-herd (“ad domus cujusdam custodis vaccarum suarum”). The neat-herd’s son Godwine (“impiger filius custodis, puer nomine Godwinus, pulchrior et melior quam ipsi daret linea priorum”) does all kinds of services for the royal guest, and specially provides him with a supper which would seem to imply a boundless appetite on the part of the unready King. He thus wins the King’s heart, who presently promotes him in every way, makes him a knight, and gives him the earldom of Gloucester (“tulit ergo ipsum rex in thalamum suum, et processu temporis sublimavit super omnes principes regni, et cum cingulo militiæ comitatum ei Gloucestriæ contulit”). The “bubulci filius” shows all manner of natural gifts in his new elevation, and makes himself famous among both Christians and Saracens. He is above all things protector of the English coast, freeing it from pirates, and making England the terror of all nations, instead of being, as she had been before him, the common prey of all of them (“pererrabat omnes Angliæ portus, tum terra tum mari, piratas omnes destruens; et facta est Anglia per ejus operam timor omnium circum jacentium terrarum quæ fuerat earum direptio et præda”). Presently Cnut comes, invited, according to this writer’s story, by the English themselves (see above, p. 693). The story of the war is told with great confusion, but Godwine appears (204) as the chief supporter of Eadmund (“At in hac quid fecit Godwinus tempestate? Multa et valida manu militum collecta, Edmundum Edelredi filium advocavit, et properanti contra eos occurrunt Chnuto apud Durherst in valle Gloucestriæ super Sabrinam”). Then comes the story of the single combat of Cnut and Eadmund (see above, p. 706).
Now, what are we to make of these stories? The one which is most likely to be true in its main features is that in the Knytlinga Saga; but the saga is a saga, and I have given some specimens of its inaccuracies and confusions. In this very story it would be hard to reconcile the author’s conception of the battle of Sherstone with the truth of history; Godwine also was not the only son of his parents, as we shall in course of time hear of his brother (see Edwards, Introduction to Liber de Hyda, xxxvii.; Mon. Angl. ii. 428, 430); and it is more amazing still when the saga goes on to tell us that Godwine and Gytha were the parents, not only of Swegen, Harold, and Tostig, but also of Morkere and Waltheof. Such a tale is not history; the utmost amount of credit which I should ever think of giving it would be to admit it as evidence of a tradition that Godwine was not of illustrious birth, that he was by origin ceorl and not eorl, and that he was in some way connected with Earl Ulf. The details might be devised to account for an Englishman of lowly birth marrying the sister of the great Danish Earl. We may, I think, be sure that the real legend is that which attributes Godwine’s rise to a service done to Ulf, and that the story of Walter Map which puts Æthelred instead of Ulf is a later version. Nothing can be wilder than Walter’s general story, but we may be inclined to believe that he preserves a piece of genuine history when he speaks of Godwine’s services towards Æthelred and Eadmund. This agrees in a remarkable way with the bequest and the will of Æthelstan, if we take that as referring to Godwine the Earl. The account in Ralph the Black is most likely an abridgement of that in Walter Map, as both use the same words (“bubulci filius”), and both tell the same story of Godwine’s marriage (see below, p. 746), which is quite different from that in the Knytlinga Saga. Yet we may take Ralph’s words (“a rege Cnutone nutritus”) as a correction of Walter’s story about Æthelred. The account in the Hyde writer is remarkable on two grounds. It asserts Godwine to have been of low birth; it also, like the Canterbury Chronicle, specially connects him with Sussex, while most of the later writers specially connect him with Kent. On the other hand, if any one ventures to put any faith in the geography of the Knytlinga Saga, Godwine must have come from some place near the borders of Gloucestershire and Wiltshire. Walter Map does not mention any particular place, but, according to his usual practice of drawing everything to his own side of England, makes Godwine Earl, not of Kent or Sussex, but of Gloucester.
We have then a distinct tradition, turning up in several quarters, some of which at least seem to be independent of one another, which tradition asserts Godwine to have been a man of churlish birth. Taking the story in the Knytlinga Saga as the genuine form of the legend, the English writers and Wace exaggerate, as in such a case they were sure to do, the lowliness of Godwine’s origin. So do the only modern writers who adopt the story. These are Sharon Turner (Hist. Angl. Sax. ii. 494), who talks about “poverty,” “humble mansion,” &c., and Thierry (i. 160), who talks about a “cabane.” But the Wulfnoth of the saga is not a poor man; he is a ceorl and not a thegn; but he has everything good about him, good house, good drink, good horses. His treatment of Ulf seems to be his usual way of entertaining strangers, while the astonishing supper given to Æthelred in Walter Map’s version is a special effort for the purpose. In the Danish writer’s picture, Wulfnoth is, in modern phrase, not a labourer, not even a tenant farmer, but clearly a rich yeoman. Such a man might, in the England of those days, easily rise to thegn’s rank (see p. 90). Eadric had risen from such a rank, or very possibly from a lowlier one (see above, p. 655), to be Ealdorman of the Mercians and son-in-law of the King. Still the rise from the yeoman’s comfortable house to the earldom of the West-Saxons in one generation and to the throne of England in the next is not an every day event. How far is such an exaltation probable in the present case?
I assume that the story of the Knytlinga Saga is altogether irreconcileable with either of the others. Sharon Turner indeed, like Florence in some of his weaker moments, adopts all three stories at once. He accepts the pedigree given by Florence without hesitation, and seemingly without thinking it at all contradictory to the tale of Godwine’s lowly origin. That tale he adopts in its fulness, and he does his best to weave the two together. He even conceives Wulfnoth in his humble estate as probably remembering the high fortunes of his uncle Eadric, and hoping that a similar good luck may attend his own child. Somewhat earlier, in recording the story of Brihtric and Wulfnoth, Mr. Turner calls the latter “the father of Earl Godwine,” and, though he remarks in a note that the words are absent from some MSS. of the Chronicles, he does not appear to doubt Child Wulfnoth’s paternity. Now it would be remarkable if a nephew of the powerful Eadric remained in the condition of a herdsman or even in that of a yeoman, while Eadric himself had risen to such greatness, and had raised at least one of his brothers with him. Yet this, however unlikely, is at least possible. But possibility itself can hardly be stretched so far as to make Wulfnoth the naval commander of 1009 the same as Wulfnoth the yeoman of 1016. Doubtless princes and lords, under the frown of fortune, have before now lurked in much lowlier disguises; but one who, outlaw as he was, still had twenty ships at his bidding, was far more likely to take service under King Swegen or to go on with his doings as wiking on his own account, than to betake himself to the tilth of the ground in a western shire. I think we may safely assert that, if Godwine was the son of a West of England yeoman, he was certainly not the son of the South-Saxon naval captain, and was not likely to be the grand-nephew of Ealdorman Eadric.
And now, what is the measure of likelihood in the story itself? First of all, what is always of no small consequence in these questions, if we grant the truth of the tale in its main outlines, we can understand how the other tale arose, while the reverse process is by no means so easy. For, if the tale of the Knytlinga Saga be a fiction, it must be pure invention without motive. One does not see how any confusion or misconception can have led to it. The story of Godwine’s lowly birth is not introduced in the saga, whatever we say of Wace and the Hyde writer, with the least notion of depreciating him. One therefore hardly sees why any one should go out of his way to invent the tale. But if there were several contemporary Wulfnoths, especially if the real one was an obscure person, mere misconception might lead Florence or his informants to fasten the paternity upon the wrong Wulfnoth. Or, if falsification is supposed, its motives are much more obvious than in the other case. To connect Godwine either with Eadric or with Child Wulfnoth would suit foes who wish to brand one whom they called a traitor as the kinsman of earlier traitors. It might suit Danish friends to represent him as connected with one who had so great a share in setting up the Danish throne in England. And, as Eadric, with all his crimes, was clearly the leader of a powerful party, the invention might even suit some among Godwine’s English friends, who might still regard a connexion with Eadric as conferring more of honour than of shame.
Again, if we accept the legend in the saga, we can understand the rather mysterious way in which Godwine himself comes on the stage under the patronage of Cnut and Ulf, better than if we suppose him to have been a member of a powerful English family. We can especially understand the astonishing silence of his own panegyrist. If Godwine had been a scion of any eminent family, or had been of kin to any famous, or even infamous, men, we should surely, somewhere or other, find him described accordingly. But the mass of writers, as we have seen, are utterly silent; no one introduces him with any description at all; those who connect him with Eadric or with Child Wulfnoth do it backwards; they describe Wulfnoth as the father of Godwine, not Godwine as the son of Wulfnoth.
I think then that, if this story stood by itself, there would be little difficulty in accepting it. I mean of course in accepting the general outline of the tale, namely that Godwine was a yeoman’s son who had somehow attracted the favour of Ulf, and who was by him introduced to Cnut. Details are quite another matter. The whole narrative of the war of Cnut and Eadmund in the Knytlinga Saga is so utterly confused and unhistorical that nothing can be safely said as to time, place, or circumstance. And the story in Walter Map, as far as concerns the first rise of Godwine, is even wilder than the saga itself. But the tradition of Godwine’s churlish origin, taken by itself, would have much to be said for it. I am inclined to think that it might hold its ground against the version in Florence. But the statement of the Canterbury Chronicler, backed up by the will of Æthelstan, is a more formidable opponent. The two descriptions fit singularly well into one another, and the coincidence is, on the face of it, undesigned. It is of course possible that Godwine the son of Wulfnoth and legatee of Æthelstan may not have been the great Earl; it is possible that, being the great Earl, he may have been the son of some other Wulfnoth, and not of the South-Saxon Child. But when we put together the Canterbury Chronicle, the will of Æthelstan, and the entries in Domesday, their cumulative force is so great as to make such explanations mere possibilities and no more. If we accept the will as referring to the great Godwine, and if we further accept my conjecture as to the death of Æthelstan (see above, p. 700), we may look on Godwine as a brave young warrior, whose services had, even before the death of Æthelred, entitled him in the Ætheling’s opinion to a restitution of the lands forfeited by his father. This same conception of him, which might well be genuine tradition, appears in an exaggerated form in the version of Walter Map. This view of him is in no way inconsistent with the fact of the favour which he afterwards found with Ulf and Cnut. Neither is his favour with Ulf and Cnut inconsistent with the story of his yeoman origin, but quite the reverse. The main difficulty, one which I do not see the way to get over, is that Wulfnoth the churl and Child Wulfnoth the South-Saxon cannot be the same man.
The two stories thus become alternatives between which we must choose. Godwine was either the son of Child Wulfnoth, or the son of Wulfnoth the churl; in neither case do I believe him to have been the great-nephew of Eadric. I once inclined, of course with the necessary allowances, to the story in the Knytlinga Saga; I had not then weighed the arguments suggested by the will of Æthelstan and the entries in Domesday. On the strength of these last I now incline to the statement of the Canterbury Chronicler. But I leave the critical reader to decide.
There is, I think, quite evidence to show that Godwine was raised to Earl’s rank very early in the reign of Cnut, but that he was not invested with the vast government of which we afterwards find him in possession till some years later.
I do not try to identify any of the signatures of “Godwine minister” in the later days of Æthelred. There are a good many of them, and some of them may be signatures of the great Earl; but the name Godwine is so common that it is utterly impossible to say anything either way. But Godwine undoubtedly signs as Earl from the very beginning of Cnut’s reign. The earliest charters of Cnut are of the year 1018, and Godwine signs one of these (Cod. Dipl. iv. 3) as “dux,” though seemingly, as one would expect, as the junior Earl. But, as Cnut kept Wessex in his own hands, while he appointed Earls over Northumberland and Mercia, Godwine could not have been Earl over all Wessex so early as this. He must have been simply the local Earl of some one shire. That shire may have been Kent. He is called Earl of Kent by Eadmer (“Cantiæ comes magnanimus,” p. 4), and it is his usual description in later accounts. But writers who did not take in the position of an Earl of the West-Saxons, and who did not understand that his jurisdiction took in Kent, may have called Godwine Earl of Kent simply because they found him acting as Earl at Dover in 1051. And, on the other hand, we have just seen (see above, p. 727) that there were other versions which call his first earldom Sussex, and even Gloucester. I do not pretend to settle the question, and it is of no great moment. The one important point is that Godwine was raised to high rank in the very beginning of Cnut’s reign, and was raised to higher rank still somewhat later.
That Godwine at a later time, under Harthacnut and Eadward, held an earldom which took in all Wessex—that is the old kingdoms of Wessex, Kent, and Sussex—there is no doubt. He appears as the immediate ruler of Wessex from the death of Cnut onward, and he is distinctly called “West-Saxonum dux” (Fl. Wig. 1041; cf. 1009). It might indeed be thought that his promotion to this greater government did not take place till after the death of Cnut, when Godwine acted as the minister of the absent Harthacnut. But it is clear from the Biographer of Eadward (392) that he was raised to some special rank by Cnut at the time which I have stated in the text. He attracted Cnut’s notice from the very beginning. “Ubi ... regnum cessit Cnuto regi vario eventu bellorum, inter novos adepti regni principes regio adscitos lateri, hic Godwinus ... probatus est.” This quite falls in with his signature as Earl in 1018. But after Cnut’s visit to Denmark in 1019, after Godwine’s exploits and his marriage (see pp. 422–424, and Note DDD), we read, “Quum repatriaret [Cnutus] in Angliam, feliciter actis omnibus, totius pene regni ab ipso constituitur dux et bajulus.” So in the next page we read, “Regnante supradicto Cnuto rege, floruit hic in ejus aula primus inter summos regni proceres; et agente æquitatis ratione, quod scribebat scriptum, quod delebat omnes censebant delendum. Et in hujus potentatus solio potenter viguit, donec et hunc regem et ejus totam stirpem Ille qui regna pro libitu suo transfert succidit.” That is, in plain words, Cnut on his return to England in 1020 invested Godwine with an office which made him the first man in the kingdom, and which he kept through the reigns of Cnut’s sons. It was therefore from Cnut and in 1020 that Godwine received the office which we find him holding under Harthacnut, that of “West-Saxonum dux.” The charters tell the same tale. From 1019 onwards (see Cod. Dipl. iv. 9 et seqq.; vi. 179 et seqq.) Godwine always signs before every other Englishman, while in 1018 (iv. 3) Æthelweard signed before him. For a while (iv. 9, 14, 17, 29) we find some of Cnut’s Danish Earls and kinsmen, Thurkill or Eric, signing before him, but Godwine always signs among them, and gradually, as Cnut’s government became more and more English, it became the established rule for Godwine to sign at the head of the laymen. That Godwine then was Earl of the West-Saxons uninterruptedly from 1020 to 1051 there can I think be no doubt. Of the nature of the office and the policy of the appointment I have spoken in the text. It is plain that it was something quite new, something quite different from the ordinary ealdormanship of a shire in Kent or elsewhere.
“Bajulus,” the word used by the Biographer here and afterwards in p. 401 to express Godwine’s position, exactly answers to the Eastern Vizier, and the title is specially common in Sicily and the Levant. But the word is the parent of all the various forms of bailiff, bail, and such like. See Ducange in Bajulus, and Roquefort, Glossaire de la Langue Romane, in Bailleul.
Thierry has an amusing glimmering of truth when he says (i. 168), “Après une grande victoire remportée sur les Norwégiens, Godwin obtint la dignité d’earl, ou chef politique de l’ancien royaume de West-Sex, reduit alors à l’état de province.” He saw by some happy instinct, for the Life of Eadward was not then published, that Godwine’s great promotion followed on his exploits in the North; but he turned Godwine’s enemies, who are in every account called either Swedes or Wends, into Norwegians, and he placed the appointment between 1030 and 1035, after Cnut’s conquest of Norway. Moreover, of all Cnut’s dominions Wessex was just the part which was the furthest from being reduced to the form of a province.
Cnut’s first wife or concubine is incidentally mentioned in the three principal Chronicles under 1035, in describing the accession of her supposed son Harold. According to Abingdon and Worcester, “Harold sæde þæt he Cnutes sunu wære and þære oðre Ælfgyfe [Ælfgyfe þære Hamtunisca. Wig.], þeh hit na soð nære.” Peterborough has, “Sume men sædon be Harolde þæt he wære Cnutes sunu cynges and Ælfgive Ælfelmes dohtor ealdormannes; ac hit þuhte swiðe ungeleaflic manegum mannum.” We thus learn that “the other Ælfgifu” was daughter of the murdered Ealdorman Ælfhelm and that she was known as Ælfgifu of Northampton. We also learn that the alleged parentage of her son Harold was generally doubted.
Florence (1035) in describing the succession of Swegen in Norway and of Harold in England, calls their supposed mother “Northamtunensis Alfgiva, filia videlicet Alfhelmi ducis et nobilis matronæ Wlfrunæ.” He goes on to mention the popular belief which I have mentioned in the text at p. 411. William of Malmesbury (ii. 188) says, “Haroldus, quem fama filium Cnutonis ex filia Elfelmi comitis loquebatur.”
There is in all this no hint that Ælfgifu of Northampton was in any sense Cnut’s wife; but Roger of Wendover, who elsewhere (i. 473) calls her “Algiva concubina,” says (i. 462), “Anno Domini MXVIII. obiit Algiva, Elfelmi Comitis filia et uxor regis Cnutonis, ex qua duos habuit filios, Suanum videlicet et Haroldum, licet alii dicant eos ex fornicatione generatos.” He then adds, “Misit ergo Cnuto in Normanniam ad ducem Ricardum propter Emmam sororem suam,” &c. The Chronica Regis Cnutonis in the Liber de Hyda (267), which is followed by Roger of Wendover with a good many changes, calls her “Elgiva uxor sua regina,” and directly after says, “defuncta uxore Cnutonis regis, Elfgiva nomine, idem rex misit in Normanniam,” as in Roger. Bromton too (906) first calls her “concubina,” and perverts her name into Ailena; but afterwards (934) she, for it must be the same, is Cnut’s “prima uxor sive amasia.”
In the Knytlinga Saga (c. 16) Swegen appears as the son of Cnut and “Alfifa,” as he also does in Snorro (Laing, ii. 344 et seqq.), according to whom Ælfgifu survived Cnut and governed Norway in the name of her son. So Saxo (196) calls Swegen “quem ex Alvina sustulerat.” He had before (192) spoken of her as the mistress, first of Saint Olaf, then of Cnut. “Eodem tempore Alvvinam ab Olavo adamatam, Canutus eximia matronæ specie delectatus, stupro petiit.” Olaf is thereby “concubinæ facibus spoliatus.” As far as one can make anything out of Saxo’s chronology, this is just after the battle of Assandun.
The Encomiast, in recording Emma’s care, before she marries Cnut, to secure the succession for her own children, says incidentally (ii. 16), “dicebatur enim ab alia quadam rex filios habuisse.” Again, in iii. 1, when recording the accession of Harold, he describes him as “quemdam Haroldum, quem esse filium æstimatione asseritur cujusdam ejusdem regis Cnutonis concubinæ; plurimorum vero assertio eumdem Haroldum perhibet furtim fuisse subreptum parturienti ancillæ, impositum autem cameræ languentis concubinæ. Quod veracius credi potest.”
Notwithstanding the pious care of Roger of Wendover and the Hyde writer to marry this Ælfgifu to Cnut, and to kill her off before his marriage with Emma, there can be no doubt that she was at most a Danish wife after the manner of Popa and Sprota (see pp. 206, 253), that she was alive at the time of Emma’s marriage, and that she survived Cnut. Moreover, if Cnut’s connexion with Ælfgifu began when Saxo says it did, one at least of her sons must have been born after Emma’s marriage. Cnut, it is to be supposed, reformed in these matters, as in others. The Ramsey historian (c. 80; Gale, p. 437) calls him “usus venerei parcus,” and in his Laws (51–57, Thorpe, i. 404–6) he is strict against all breaches of chastity.
And now for the marriage with Emma. There is indeed something very strange about the whole thing. William of Malmesbury (ii. 180) is uncertain whether Emma or her brother Richard was most disgraced by the marriage. “Ignores majore illius dedecore qui dederit, an feminæ quæ consenserit ut thalamo illius caleret qui virum infestaverit, filios effugaverit.” Not to enter into this delicate question, it is worth noticing that Cnut was now about twenty-two, while Emma, married in 1002, could not have been under thirty, and considering the ages of her parents, the daughter of Richard and Gunnor may have been much older. The Scandinavian writers are not startled at a much greater disparity of years, as they boldly make Emma the mother of all the children of Æthelred. (See above, p. 688.) According to the Knytlinga Saga (Johnstone, 129), Emma was in England at the moment of Æthelred’s death, upon which she prepared to leave the country, but Cnut persuaded her to stay and marry him. The war of Cnut and Eadmund is therefore, according to this view, war between a stepfather and a stepson. I need not go about to show that Eadmund was not the son of Emma, and it is equally certain that Cnut did not marry Emma till July 1017, eight months after the death of Eadmund, and that she was in Normandy at the time of Cnut’s proposal. But that she was in England at the time of Æthelred’s death (as is distinctly affirmed by R. Howden, ii. 240), and that Cnut saw her during the course of the war, is quite possible. See above, p. 700. As to her coming to England, there is something amusing in the form of words employed, with some slight variations, by all the English Chroniclers; “And þa toforan Kal. Augusti het se cyng feccean him þæs oðres kynges lafe Æðelredes him to wife, Ricardes dohtor.” She signs Cnut’s charters from this time, beginning in 1018, sometimes as Emma, but more commonly as Ælfgifu. In Cod. Dipl. iv. 9 she is “Ælfgive thoro consecrata regio.”
According to William of Malmesbury (ii. 196), Emma not only hated the memory of Æthelred, which is not very wonderful, but extended her dislike to her children by him; “hæreditario scilicet odio parentis in prolem, nam magis Cnutonem et amaverat vivum et laudabat defunctum.” This account receives a most singular confirmation from the language of her Encomiast, from which it is plain that she wished her first marriage to be utterly forgotten. Not a hint is allowed to escape the courtly panegyrist which might imply that Emma had any earlier connexion with England, or that she had ever been married to Æthelred or to any other man. Cnut, after he had established himself in England and had got rid of Eadric (“omnibus rite dispositis,” ii. 16, cf. c. 15), wanted a wife worthy to be the partner of his Empire (“ut inventam hanc legaliter adquireret et adeptam Imperii sui consortem faceret”). He sends and seeks through many kingdoms and cities, but no help-meet for him is found (“longe lateque quæsita, vix tandem digna reperitur”). At last the Imperial bride is found (“inventa est hæc Imperialis sponsa”) in Normandy; Cnut, we are told, specially preferred the Norman connexion, because the Normans were a victorious people who had established themselves in Gaul by force of arms (“pro hoc præcipue quod erat oriunda ex victrici gente, quæ sibi partem Galliæ vendicaverat invitis Francigenis et eorum principe”). An opportunity is of course seized on for a special “encomium” on the lady herself. Deputy-wooers (“proci”) are sent with gifts and promises; but the prudent Emma, hearing that Cnut had children by another woman, will have nothing to say to him till he swears that none but her own children shall succeed him in the kingdom; “Abnegat illa se umquam Chnutonis sponsam fieri, nisi illi jusjurando affirmaret, quod numquam alterius conjugis filium post se regnare faceret nisi ejus, si forte illi Deus ex eo filium dedisset. Dicebatur enim ab alia quadam rex filios habuisse, unde illa suis prudenter providens, scivit ipsis sagaci animo profutura præordinare.” Cnut agrees, and on these terms they marry. But, by a nearly unparalleled flight of daring (but compare the way in which Matilda is spoken of. See vol. iii. p. 655), the widow of Æthelred, the mother of Eadward, Ælfred, and Godgifu, is twice spoken of as a virgin; “Placuit ergo regi verbum virginis, et jusjurando facto virgini placuit voluntas regis.” Presently (c. 18) we hear of the birth of Harthacnut; and we are told that Cnut kept Harthacnut with him as the heir of his throne, while his other lawful sons were sent into Normandy for education (“alios liberales filios educandos direxerunt Normanniæ, istum hunc retinentes sibi utpote futurum hæredem regni”). Now we know that Cnut and Emma had no son except Harthacnut, and by comparing this passage with a later one (iii. 2) it is plain that the sons spoken of are Eadward and Ælfred, and that the intention of the writer is to pass them off as younger sons of Cnut and Emma. A more impudent case of courtly falsehood can hardly be found; but these daring statements of her contemporary flatterer show how little Emma loved either her elder sons or the memory of their father.
Of Leofwine himself, as far as I know, no single political action is recorded. But the important part played by his son Leofric and his children naturally awakens a certain interest in the whole family. Our curiosity as to their earlier history would be amply gratified if we could put any trust in a document which is printed in the Monasticon, iii. 192, and which is drawn out in a tabular shape by Sir Francis Palgrave, English Commonwealth, ii. ccxci. This is a complete pedigree of the family, which is attached to one of the manuscripts of Florence, but which its contents show to be not earlier than the reign of John. According to this document, Leofwine was the son of Leofric, the son of Ælfgar, the son of Ælfgar, the son of Leofric, who is placed in the days of Æthelbald of Mercia (716–757; see p. 38). Our Leofwine is made contemporary with Æthelstan, Eadmund, Eadwig, and Eadgar. Now Agêsilaos was the son of Archidamos, and Lewis the Twelfth was the son of the Duke of Orleans who was taken at Azincourt; still it would be amazing if a man who was not only born, but seemingly an Ealdorman, between 926 and 940 was succeeded by a son who himself lived till 1057, and whose widow, seemingly much of his own age, survived the Norman Conquest. Leofric also himself, the famous Earl of the days of Eadward, is made to flourish and to found monasteries for a space of about eighty-two years. He is described as “nobilis fundator multorum cœnobiorum, tempore Edwardi secundi, Ethelredi, Cnutonis, Haroldi, Hardicanuti, et Edwardi tertii regum Angliæ.” Such a document is self-convicted. It is simply of a piece with the wonderful stories of Harold and Gyrth surviving to a præternatural age.
We shall, as usual, come nearer to the truth by turning to the charters. We find a signature of “Leofwine dux” in 994 (Cod. Dipl. iii. 280), from which time his signatures, if they are all those of the same person, go on through the reign of Æthelred and into the reign of Cnut. From one signature in 997 (Cod. Dipl, iii. 304) he appears to have been Ealdorman of the Hwiccas (“Wicciarum provinciarum dux”), but as this charter is signed by two other Leofwines with the rank of thegn, it is of course possible that one of these may have been the Ealdorman of the days of Cnut. Considering the rarity of the name Northman, borne by one of Leofwine’s sons, I should be inclined to look for the father of our Leofwine in a “Norðman dux” who signs in 994 (Cod. Dipl. iii. 280); only, if so, the father signs after the son.
Leofwine, as I hold, succeeded Eadric in the head earldom of Mercia in 1017, and he was most likely succeeded by his son Leofric at some time between 1024 and 1032. The last signature of Leofwine comes between 1021 and 1024 (Cod. Dipl. iv. 29), and he was living and acting in 1023 (see Cod. Dipl. iv. 26). The first undoubted signature of Leofric as “dux” is in 1032 (Cod. Dipl. iv. 39). He therefore succeeded his father in some earldom at some time between those dates, and he was clearly head Earl of the Mercians in 1035 (see p. 482). The natural inference is that it was in the head earldom of the Mercians that he succeeded his father, and therefore that Leofwine, hitherto subordinate Ealdorman of the Hwiccas, was raised to the chief government of all Mercia when that post became vacant by the death of Eadric.
Florence, under 1017, in recording the execution of Northman, gives him the title of “dux” and calls him “filius Leofwini ducis, frater scilicet Leofrici comitis.” This distinction between “dux” and “comes” is unusual. I can only guess that it means that Leofwine and Northman had borne the title of Ealdorman under the old state of things, while Leofric was only Eorl under the new. And that this is the ground of the distinction seems the more likely, because, in a case where the distinction was purely local, where the Chronicles in 991 call Thored Eorl and Ælfric Ealdorman (see p. 279), Florence puts them together as duces. The Chronicles however do not mention Northman as an Ealdorman, but rather imply the contrary; “On þisum geare wæs Eadric ealdorman ofslagen, and Norðman Leofwines sunu ealdormannes.” Florence goes on to say that Leofric succeeded Northman in his government; “Leofricum, pro Nortmanno suo germano, rex constituit ducem, et eum postmodum valde carum habuit.” But I find no certain signature of Leofric as “dux” till 1032. His signature with that title is indeed put to the document in Cod. Dipl. iv. 32 which professes to belong to 1026, but of the doubtful nature of that document I have already spoken (see above, p. 667). But in 1023 (Cod. Dipl. iv. 27) he signs as “minister” a grant of Cnut to another man of his own name, Leofric son of Bonda; and in the last charter signed by Earl Leofwine his son seems to be pointedly distinguished from him, “Ego Leofwine dux. Ego Leofric.” I therefore cannot help suspecting that he did not become an Earl till his father’s death, and that Florence forestalled his appointment by confounding it with the elevation of his father. If he was appointed to a subordinate earldom in 1017, it was most likely that of Chester; at least he figures in later and spurious documents as “Leycestriæ comes.”
Besides Northman and Leofric, Leofwine had a son named Eadwine who died in the battle of Rhyd-y-Groes (see p. 506), and another son Godwine. Godwine had a son Æthelwine, who was given, probably as a child, as a hostage to Cnut, and had his hands cut off (“a Danis obses manibus truncatus est”) in the mutilation of the hostages in 1014 (see p. 371). This curious fact we learn from Heming’s Worcester Cartulary, 259, 260.
The relations of Cnut towards this family are singular. The father and one of his sons are high in his favour. A second son is put to death, and the son of a third son is cruelly mutilated. The difference is, I suspect, to be found in the gradual change of Cnut’s own character.
The accounts of the death of Eadric form an excellent example of the growth of a legend. Each writer knows more about it than the one immediately before him.
The three elder Chronicles, under the year 1017, simply record the execution of Eadric; “On þisum geare wæs Eadric ealdorman ofslagen.”
The Canterbury Chronicler adds the place, London, and volunteers his own conviction that the execution was righteous; “Eadric ealdorman wearð ofslagan on Lundene swyðe rihtlice.”
Florence adds that the execution happened at Christmas, in the palace, and that the body of Eadric was thrown over the wall of the city, and left unburied. He also tells us Cnut’s motive, namely fear lest Eadric should some day betray him, as he had betrayed his former lords Æthelred and Eadmund.
William of Malmesbury (ii. 181) knows Eadric’s fate after death; “Putidum spiritum dimisit ad inferos.” He has also more to tell us than his predecessors about his last sayings and doings in this world. Cnut and Eadric quarrelled, he does not know about what; but Eadric began to go through all his services, and to tell, amongst other things, how he first forsook Eadmund and then slew him for Cnut’s sake. Cnut waxes wroth, and says that Eadric must die, because he has slain his own lord and Cnut’s sworn brother. His blood shall be on his own head, because he has borne witness against himself that he has slain the Lord’s anointed. For fear of a tumult the King has Eadric at once stifled to death (“fauces elisus”) in the room where they were, namely Cnut’s own bed-chamber, and has the body thrown through the window into the Thames.
Henry of Huntingdon (M. H. B. 756 E) makes Eadric come to Cnut directly after the murder of Eadmund and salute him as sole King. Cnut asks the meaning of the title, which Eadric explains, saying how he has brought about Eadmund’s death. Cnut answers that for so great a service he will set him higher than all the Witan of England. So he cuts off his head, and sets it on a pole on the highest tower in London.
Æthelred of Rievaux (X Scriptt. 365) has the same story with a few verbal changes. He sets the head on the highest gate of London. The gate and the tower may or may not be the same thing, but we have now clearly come to the beginning of the practice of exposing heads on Temple-Bar.
Walter Map (De Nugis, 207), who never names Eadric, tells nearly the same story of the anonymous servant of Eadmund of whom he has so much to tell us. After Eadmund’s death at Ross, the servant hastens to Cnut and tells him that he is now full King instead of half-King (“rex integer qui semirex heri fuisti”), and begs him to reward the man who had removed his enemy. Cnut (“licet tristissimus, placido vultu retulit”) asks who his friend is, as he will set him high above all his comrades (“faciam eum præcelsum præ consortibus suis”). The servant says it is himself, on which the King has him hanged on a lofty oak, a kind of death which looks as if Walter Map did not place the story in London.
Roger of Wendover (i. 460) tells William of Malmesbury’s story, only adding the subject of dispute between Cnut and Eadric, which William of Malmesbury could not tell us. Eadric complained of being deprived of his earldom of Mercia, a singular complaint, as Cnut had only that year confirmed him in it. He also tells Henry of Huntingdon’s story as an alternative.
Bromton (X Scriptt. 908) gives both versions with slight improvements on each. William’s version is enriched by the detail that Eadric’s hands and feet were tied when he was thrown out of the window. This was the mode of his death, for in this version we do not hear of his being stifled. To the other story the only addition is that, when his head was set on the gate, his body was thrown over the wall.
Lastly, Knighton (X Scriptt. 2318) follows William, but gives us Eadric’s speech at greater length and tells us that it was made before dinner. Also we now hear that he was thrown into the Thames from the window of a high tower; his hands and feet were tied, and he was thrown out by a machine—a sling or catapult.
These English versions seem to form a series of themselves, and to grow without foreign help. But in the Encomium Emmæ (ii. 15) we have a version older than any of these except perhaps that of the Chronicles, which shows how the intentional or careless perversion of a contemporary writer may depart as widely from the truth as any feat of the imagination of legend-makers. The Encomiast, as we have seen (see above, p. 711), leaves the death of Eadmund shrouded in mystery, and does not say a word implicating Eadric; he also leaves out Eadric’s appointment to the earldom of Mercia, because his object is to represent Cnut as immediately punishing all who had dealt in any way treacherously towards Eadmund. Eadric is therefore made to demand a reward for his treachery at Assandun (“Edricus qui a bello fugerat, quum prœmia pro hoc ipso a rege postularet, acsi hoc pro ejus victoria fecisset”). Cnut says that he who had been faithless to one lord will not be faithful to another, and he accordingly bids Earl Eric to cut off his head with his axe. “Ille vero nil moratus bipennem extulit, eique ictu valido caput amputavit, ut hoc exemplo discant milites regibus suis esse fideles, non infideles.”
In the English series the turning-point is when, in the version of William of Malmesbury, there comes in the first allusion to the Amalekite who slew Saul. When this parallel was once thought of, the true date of Eadric’s execution, namely the thirteenth month after Eadmund’s death, no longer suited the tale; the date of the story was therefore moved back, and Eadric was made to announce the murder of Eadmund and to be put to death at once. For the details, the writers at each stage of course drew on their imaginations.