The Fall of the House of Æthelfrith

by H A CULLEY

  No one in Northumbria was sorry to hear of the death of Bruide in 693 after a short illness. The King of the Picts had been a thorn in the side of Northumbria ever since he was sixteen. His infant son was far too young to be a contender for the vacant throne, which was seized by Taran, the Mormaer of Angus and a distant cousin of Bruide’s. His queen entered a monastery and his son disappeared in mysterious circumstances shortly after Taran’s enthronement.

  Aldfrith was relieved at the news, though Bosa and Behrt of Lothian both warned him that Taran was likely to be just as much of a problem as Bruide had been. He was glad to see the back of Wilfrid but one thing he’d said kept nagging at him – the need to marry and beget an heir. The problem was that he was now nearly sixty and he would have to find a wife who was much younger if she was to give him children. Not many women would want to marry an old man.

  Meanwhile Osfrid was wrestling with problems of his own. He had hoped that his bond with Eadwulf would have improved during the time that they were away in the summer of 689. Initially they had grown closer but the enforced stay in Ulster had put their relationship under strain. The little boy was bored and he blamed his father. Osfrid came to the conclusion that his elder son was not only petulant and self-interested but that he had a cruel and ruthless streak in his nature.

  The hill fort at Béal Feirste was full of animals, not only the usual dogs, rats and other vermin, but also sheep, cows and horses. Osfrid heard stories that someone was maltreating the sheep; a few were hamstrung and then one was found with its throat cut. Later on two calves were found which had been stabbed.

  Osfrid had no reason to suspect that his son was to blame but one evening when Eadwulf was asleep he examined the small knife he had been given before they left Bebbanburg. It was hardly a formidable weapon, but it had a sharp blade some three inches long. He found that it had been cleaned but not well. There was encrusted blood under the hilt and spots of it on the blade.

  He set Drefan to watch his son surreptitiously and two days later, when a dog had been found with a wounded leg, he confirmed what Osfrid had feared. Eadwulf was the culprit.

  ‘But I need to practice if I’m to become a warrior, father,’ the small boy had bleated when confronted.

  ‘You will learn to be a warrior when you’re much older, and it won’t be by attacking defenceless animals. These people depend on their livestock for their living. I shall have to pay them for the damage for which you are responsible. But that is unimportant when compared to the flaws in your character it reveals. You are thoughtless and cruel. Unless you mend your ways you won’t succeed me as ealdorman, Swefred will. Do you understand what I’m saying?’

  Unfortunately Eadwulf did, but not in the way that his father had intended. It was the wrong threat to make if he wanted the boy to change. Now Eadwulf not only saw his brother as a rival for his parents’ affection but also to his right to inherit Bebbanburg and the shire.

  As if the boy wasn’t resentful enough, Osfrid’s next action made his son hate him. He put Eadwulf across his knee in front of Uurad and Drefan, lifted up his tunic and pulled down his trousers before spanking his bare bottom until it glowed a bright pink.

  After that the attacks on the animals ceased but the boy refused to speak to Osfrid and kept it up until they returned to Bebbanburg again. After that he would only speak to his mother. He was as obstinate as he was cruel and he could bear a grudge for a long time.

  In 693, when Eadwulf was nine Osfrid packed him off to Lindisfarne to be educated. He was young to become a novice but by that time his father couldn’t stand the sight of him. Five year old Swefred, on the other hand, was the apple of his eye.

  Godwyna didn’t share her husband’s despair of the boy. She tended to see the good in her children and closed her eyes to their faults. The gulf between her eldest child and her husband upset her and she tried to reconcile them, which made her failure to do so even more frustrating. She and Osfrid still loved each other, but their different attitudes to Eadwulf had definitely weakened their bond.

  The week before the Bishop of Lindisfarne had written to Osfrid saying that his Master of Novices, Turstan, was having trouble with Eadwulf. He’d had to discipline the boy recently and he’d taken the punishment, which was cleaning out the stables, badly. At first he’d refused to do it but, when told that the alternative was a beating in front of the other novices, he’d relented. However, he’d started to spread malicious rumours about Turstan and had ended up being beaten anyway.

  The bishop went on to say that Eadwulf was having a disruptive effect on his fellow novices and on the whole monastery and, unless his behaviour improved, he would have to ask Osfrid to remove him.

  At least the incident had made Godwyna realise that Eadwulf was something of a brat and they ceased to argue about him. Now they only disagreed about what could be done about his behaviour. The invitation to the marriage of Aldfrith and Cuthburh, the twenty five year old sister of the King of Wessex, therefore came as something of a relief. They could at least forget about him for a while and enjoy the royal wedding.

  Aldfrith had been invited to Wintan-ceastre, the capital of Wessex, for the ceremony and, rather than travel through Mercia to get there, he decided to go by sea and asked Osfrid to organise the necessary ships. After his last voyage Osfrid decided to take no chances this time and put together a fleet of three large knarrs to carry the king, the nobles and their ladies who would be attending and took all six of his birlinns as escort.

  Sea travel was a rare experience for Godwyna and she was looking forward to the adventure as well as spending time with her husband away from Bebbanburg. Not only had they argued about Eadwulf but Osfrid hadn’t been best pleased when he found out his instructions about the new hall had been ignored by his wife and she had gone ahead and built a hall of stone anyway. The extra cost had also been something of a bone of contention. She hoped that, once away from the place, all that could be forgotten, at least for a while.

  They had invited Conomultus, Godwyna’s sister, Edyth and her fourteen year old son, Eochaid, to join them. However, Conomultus had replied that the journey would be too much for him. He was still managing the shire whilst Eochaid underwent his training as a warrior, but these days he often had to hold court from his bed.

  Both Guthild, now seven, and five year old Swefred had been allowed to come and the young boy spent most of the time following Eochaid around the ship. It was obvious that the boy hero worshipped his older cousin.

  The journey down the east coast and through the sea between England and Frankia was uneventful apart from three days spent stormbound in a harbour on the Kent coast. They did see several other ships, some of them warships, from time to time but they gave such a large fleet a wide birth and they arrived at the port six miles south of Wintan-ceastre safely.

  They had to wait for three hours whilst a messenger was sent to Wintan-ceastre but King Ine of Wessex came in person to welcome his sister’s future husband. If he was dismayed by the stooped greybeard with wispy hair barely covering his bald head he hid it well. Whether Cuthburh could remain equally stoical when she met her bridegroom for the first time remained to be seen.

  On the day of the wedding Ine appeared wearing a long blue robe with embroidered ribbon trim at the neck and end of his three-quarter length sleeves. Under that he wore a scarlet undershirt. A dagger with a gold hilt in a scarlet leather scabbard hung from his gold studded belt.

  Aldfrith was positively dowdy by comparison. He looked more like a priest, except he wore no chasuble. He too had chosen a long robe instead of the tunic and trousers worn by Osfrid and most of the younger nobles, but his was light grey. The only ornamentation was the dagger with a ruby inset into the pommel and the small gold crucifix suspended from a gold chain around his neck.

  Cuthburh echoed the style of her husband-to-be. Her green mid-calf woollen overdress covered a cream linen under tunic which reached the ground. Even her girdle was plain: a white silken rope. Her thick
, long hair, which Aldfrith later discovered was a rich golden colour, was hidden under a plain white linen headrail held in place by a simple silver circlet.

  She had met Aldfrith the previous evening so she at least had had a chance to get used to his aged appearance.

  ‘There is only one way that I’m going through with this marriage,’ she had told Ine as soon as they were alone later that evening. ‘I’ll do my duty and give Aldfrith an heir, provided he’s capable at his age,’ she said with a sniff, ‘but I want your promise that you’ll support my desire to become a nun when he dies, which he must do soon by the look of him.’

  Ine had resisted her repeated entreaties to be allowed to enter a monastery for a decade. As his only sister he was aware of her political value to him and now, with Northumbria as an ally, Ethelred of Mercia would be faced with potential foes on two of his borders; three if you counted his continuing problems with the Welsh to the west.

  ‘One boy isn’t enough, three would be better. And don’t forget you may well have some daughters.’

  ‘Three!’ she said, aghast at the prospect. Quite apart from the sex that would be necessary to conceive, the thought of which made her shudder, there was the pain of childbirth itself. The prospect of going through it all more than once, and with the elderly Aldfrith at that, filled her with dismay.

  ‘No! I’m sorry but no.’

  ‘I’m your king as well as your brother, you will do this because Wessex needs you to.’

  She thought for a long moment.

  ‘Two,’ she said eventually. ‘I draw the line at two boys. And I’ll pray every night that I have no daughters.’

  Now she put on a brave face as she walked down through the press of guests to join Aldfrith at the altar rail. He smiled at her gently and she felt some relief at the kindness she saw there. She smiled back, albeit briefly, before turning to face the bishop who was conducting the service.

  At last the interminable day drew to a close and the unwilling bride was led upstairs by the ladies of the court to be undressed by them and bathed in rose water oil by her maid ready for her husband.

  Aldfrith came in, followed by a rowdy bunch of men, who he ushered back out of the door before slamming it firmly in their faces. Instead of rushing to undress, as she had expected, he came and sat on the bed beside her and gently stroked her hair.

  ‘I too am a virgin,’ he admitted. ‘We will have to guide each other through this.’

  Cuthburh smiled up at him. It seemed that he was as nervous as she was. She was naturally a kind-hearted woman and what he’d said made her take pity on him.

  ‘Get undressed and get in beside me. My mother has told me what to expect so I have some idea what is involved.’

  ‘Then that is more than I have. It’s not something a man, especially one as old as I am, can ask another man for guidance about. I recall that when we were young my friends and I used to speculate about lying with a girl, but I don’t think any of them knew exactly what to do. In any case, it’s so long ago that I have long since forgotten that part of my life.’

  She giggled.

  ‘Girls talk about it too, you know. Perhaps we can manage to work out what to do together.’

  Afterwards they lay side by side. He had never felt so alive, or so sated. He had shown little interest in sex, even as a young man, so obeying the Lord’s strictures about carnal relations outside marriage had been no hardship for him. Only now did he realise what he’d been missing all those years.

  His wife, on the other hand, was grateful that she had married a kind, gentle and loving man. It was so different to what her mother had led her to expect. It seemed from what she had been told that her father was something of a brute when it came to fornication. If so, he was the opposite of Aldfrith. His age seemed to matter less now, though she’d been disappointed that he’d had enough after the first time. Having sampled the fulfilment that making love had brought her, she wanted to experience it again, and again. Perhaps they’d make love again in the morning she thought as she drifted off to sleep.

  ~~~

  The tranquil life of the newly married couple continued for another six months after they had returned to Northumbria. Then, just after Cuthburh had made him even happier by informing him that she was pregnant, came the news that Beli of Strathclyde had invaded Cumbria.

  He hadn’t thought about it until then, but he recalled that Osfrid had never reached Man to conclude a treaty with Alweo. That afternoon three messengers set out; one to Osfrid with instructions to sail to Man to see his brother in law. Another rode to Berhrt with two letters, one appointing him as the Hereræswa of Northumbria; the second instructed him to take what forces he could raise in a short time and go to the aid of Cumbria. The third went to the Ealdorman of Luncæstershire with orders for him to join Behrt.

  This time Osfrid was taking no chances. There were three birlinns currently at Bebbanburg and he took all of them. Once again Eadwulf, now ten, had begged to go with him. In truth he would rather have taken Swefred. His younger son might only be six but he was mature for his age in body as well as in mind. In contrast, Eadwulf had grown less likeable as time went on. He was beginning to wish in earnest that his younger son could inherit Bebbanburg instead of the elder.

  Thankfully Godwyna had put her foot down and told Eadwulf that, after what had happened the last time, he would be staying at home. The boy went into another of his lengthy sulks and didn’t even come to see his father off.

  When they landed after a swift and uneventful passage Osfrid had been greeted by a young man he hardly recognised. Æthelbald was now twenty five and, as Osfrid learned later, the de facto ruler of the island.

  He explained that his father was now crippled with pain in his joints and couldn’t move without help. Even after this warning Osfrid was dismayed to see the change in Alweo. The King of Man was now fifty five and, although Osfrid was only fourteen years younger, his brother-in-law looked nearer twice his age.

  He was pleased to see his sister, Hereswith, again and his other two nephews, Heartbehrt and the thirteen year old Thringfrith. Her daughters had long since married, both to Mercian ealdormen, and left the island. He was a little surprised to see that HeartBehrt was still living in his father’s hall. The man was now twenty two and he’d expected him to either be married or serving in Ethelred of Mercia’s gesith.

  It was Thringfrith who explained the situation. The boy was apparently given to gossip and, sitting next to Osfrid at the evening meal, he chatted away being so indiscreet Osfrid wondered if he had been put up to it for some reason.

  ‘My brother’s in disgrace,’ he confided in Osfrid.

  ‘Heartbehrt?’ the latter asked in surprise.

  ‘No,’ the boy looked at him as if he was dense. ‘I can’t imagine him doing anything to horrify mother. No, Æthelbald; he prefers to plough the whole field, not just one furrow.’

  At first Osfrid wasn’t sure what his nephew meant, then it dawned on him. Presumably his eldest brother was a womaniser.

  ‘Is that why he hasn’t married yet?’

  ‘Yes, unfortunately one of those he seduced was Heartbehrt’s betrothed. It was all very exciting at the time. You can gather from that that nothing much ever happens here, apart from the very occasional raid by the Hibernians, that is.’

  ‘When was this?’

  ‘Six months ago. Father wasn’t as crippled then and he was still in charge. Heartbehrt was going to become a thegn when he got married as the girl was an heiress, but the scandal put an end to that. She was sent off to the mainland to become a nun and her estate was seized by father. It was shortly after that that he became crippled. It’s ironic really; it means that her estate will become Æthelbald’s in due course, instead of Heartbehrt’s.’

  Thringfrith had said all this with just a little too much relish at his brother’s misfortune and he gathered that he didn’t much care for Heartbehrt.

  ‘What happens to him now? He must be very bitter at the t
urn of events.’

  ‘Yes, obviously Æthelbald wants him gone. His presence is a constant reminder of his fall from grace and the two didn’t get on long before this. I think Æthelbald might be hoping that you’ll offer Heartbehrt a place in your gesith.’

  ‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea,’ Osfrid said quickly, concerned by the prospect of becoming involved in the family squabble. Whatever he might think of Æthelbald’s morals, he would be King of Man eventually, and perhaps quite soon. Northumbria needed to keep him as an ally.

  ‘Well, you may find that it’s necessary if you want Æthelbald’s co-operation in whatever you’ve come here to discuss.’

  Osfrid looked at him is surprise, wondering if the boy was a mind-reader. It seemed that, far from resenting his interference, Æthelbald would welcome it.

  Three days later Osfrid left accompanied by a disgruntled Heartbehrt whilst Æthelbald prepared his fleet to raid the coast of Strathclyde. He said farewell to Alweo knowing that he wouldn’t see him again. As he kissed his sister on the cheek before he boarded his ship she asked him to take care of Heartbehrt.

  ‘He’s the innocent party in all of this,’ she murmured. ‘It’s just his bad luck not be born the eldest.’

  It was obvious that Æthelbald was hardly her favourite. She must know too that she would be expected to retreat to a monastery when the time came. At least she would be spared witnessing the new King of Man giving unbridled vent to his lust.

  His small fleet left the harbour and turned into the open sea. As the prow of his birlinn rose and fell as it met the short chop of the open sea, Osfrid wondered how Thringfrith would turn out. Despite his addiction to gossip, Osfrid had rather liked him. He prayed that he would grow up to be a man of honour like his father.

  ~~~

  When he returned to Bebbanburg he had planned to ride with his warband to join Berhrt but the news that greeted him changed his plans. The day before he returned a messenger had arrived from Edyth with the sad tidings that Conomultus had died. He was sixty six and had gone peacefully in his sleep. Osfrid was sad but it wasn’t unexpected, given his uncle’s age. At least Eochaid was now sixteen and had completed his training as a warrior. There was no reason why the king couldn’t confirm him as the Ealdorman of Alnwic.