The Fall of the House of Æthelfrith

by H A CULLEY

  ‘The Dalriadans are returning home tomorrow and King Mael has offered to let us travel with him to Dùn Add. He’ll also give us space on a cart for the king’s body. We’ll need to sew it up in a leather tent and put it in a coffin packed with herbs to make sure it doesn’t stink on the way. From there we can get a ship to take us across the sea to Iona.’

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ Cuthbert said. ‘I was going anyway as I hope to find Aldfrith there. If he is, we need to persuade him to return with us. He’s the last of the line of Æthelfrith and so is the only candidate to be the next king. However, I know that my brother will want to be buried with our mother and father at Dùn Barra.’

  ‘I’ll take him with me and stop there on the way back to Bebbanburg,’ Osfrid offered. ‘We’ve no cart and so it’ll mean carrying your brother’s body slung over a horse until we get to Arbroath, I fear.’

  ‘He won’t be aware of the indignity and the important thing is that he is buried with his family. Would you please warn those nobles and thegns who are left that the Witan will need to meet and confirm Aldfrith’s election? I’ll send a message letting you know what day we hope to arrive. You’ll need to tell Bosa, Eata and the abbots too. I suggest the Witan meets at Hexham as that’s fairly central,’ Cuthbert said and Osfrid nodded.

  After Cuthbert had said a blessing over Beornheth’s remains the two groups parted.

  ~~~

  Aldfrith was discussing some finer points of theology, particularly the differences in doctrine between the Celtic and Roman churches, with Adamnan, the Abbot of Iona, when Cuthbert and Conomultus arrived with Ecgfrith’s body. At first the two men ignored the arrival of the ship; it wasn’t an unusual occurrence. It wasn’t until the prior knocked on the door and told them that Bishop Cuthbert had arrived that the two men broke off their debate and made their way unhurriedly down to the beach.

  ‘Bishop, this is an unexpected pleasure.’ The mild rebuke at not giving the abbot advance notice of his arrival was diplomatically phrased.

  ‘Yes, forgive us for not warning you that we were on our way, Father Abbot, but we had no time to lose. I’m not sure whether news of the Battle of Dùn Nectain had reached you yet?’

  ‘No, we knew, of course, that King Ecgfrith had invaded Pictland but not that a battle had taken place.’

  ‘The Northumbrians were caught in an ambush by King Bruide, abetted by the kings of Strathclyde and Dalriada. Their army was wiped out and Ecgfrith was killed.’

  The faces of both Adamnan and Aldfrith paled and neither said anything for a moment.

  ‘We have brought the king’s body with us in the hope that you might agree to bury it here, in this holy place.’

  ‘Ecgfrith’s corpse is with you? Then I suppose I can’t refuse your request but only the bodies of Caledonian kings have been buried here before.’

  ‘Ecgfrith was Bretwalda of Caledonia before Bruide defeated him.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose you’re right.’

  ‘Father Abbot, I would regard it as a favour if you would allow my brother’s body to be laid to rest here,’ Aldfrith said.

  Up until that moment Adamnan had forgotten that Aldfrith was Ecgfrith’s half-brother.

  ‘Of course, but we must hold the funeral without delay. The corpse will be decaying already, I’m sure.’

  ‘It is tightly sewn in leather and packed in a simple coffin with herbs but, yes, the sweet smell of decay is becoming more and more obvious,’ Cuthbert replied with a smile.

  The whole time Conomultus had stood silently behind Cuthbert but then Aldfrith recognised him.

  ‘Bishop Conomultus isn’t it? We met at Abernethy several years ago when I came to consult some books at the monastery.’

  ‘Yes, lord, I remember it well. Those were happier days.’

  ‘You call me lord? Why?’

  ‘Because you are the last of the line of Æthelfrith and, if you are willing and the Witan confirms it, your brother’s successor as king.’

  Aldfrith looked as if he had been struck in the face. The thought had evidently never occurred to him.

  ‘But, although Oswiu was my father he was never married to my mother.’

  ‘As there are no legitimate heirs, that doesn’t matter, lord,’ Cuthbert explained.

  ‘I need to think about this, please excuse me.’

  Aldfrith almost ran from the beach in the direction of his hut.

  ‘What happens if he says no?’ the abbot asked quietly.

  Cuthbert shrugged. ‘There are other Idings, sons of younger sons of Ida the first King of Bernicia, but I suspect it would mean a period of disruption and perhaps even the end of Northumbria as one kingdom. Besides so many died at Dùn Nectain the other Idings are either men too old to fight or young boys. What Northumbria needs now is a king who is neither too elderly nor too young and who has an undoubted right to the throne. That man is Aldfrith.’

  ‘Let’s leave him to get used to the idea for a while. I’ll speak to him this evening as I know him better than anyone. Come, we must get Ecgfrith’s corpse unloaded and make arrangement for the funeral tomorrow. The coffin will lie in the church tonight. Will you both keep a vigil with it?’

  ‘I will, much as my poor old knees will pain me,’ Cuthbert said with a grimace.

  ‘I’ll join you, of course; then you won’t be alone as far as suffering from the infirmities of old age is concerned,’ Conomultus offered.

  Conomultus at fifty five was four years older than Cuthbert but he seemed in better health, though both were suffering the agonies of old age. In truth the long journey seemed to have worn out the Bishop of Lindisfarne. Anyone not knowing the two men would have said that Conomultus was the younger.

  No one knew what Adamnan had said to Aldfrith the previous evening but when he joined Cuthbert and Conomultus for their vigil that night he told that that he knew where his duty lay; he would return to Northumbria with them.

  Iona lay off the south-western tip of the Isle of Mull and was exposed to winds coming across the sea from the west; unfortunately that was the prevailing direction. On the day of Ecgfrith’s funeral it was blowing a gale and the wind tore into the monks as they struggled to carry the simple wooden coffin, making them stagger. At times it was so strong that they came to a standstill. Their habits and those of the two bishops flapped vigorously and they had to be helped across to the church.

  Once inside they were, of course, protected from the wind but it howled around the building making it difficult for the congregation to hear the prayers and the homily delivered by Cuthbert.

  When they emerged again the wind had died down a little, but now it carried horizontal rain into the faces of the mourners and pall bearers as they struggled the short distance to the cemetery. Once the coffin had been lowered into the grave and both Cuthbert and Adamnan had said a few final prayers, everyone was only too thankful to get in out of the wind and rain. Only Aldfrith remained, kneeling by his brother’s grave lost in meditation, ignoring the water dripping from the end of his nose.

  His mind was in a turmoil. When he was a boy his one desire was to be a great warrior like his father, Oswiu, but the king showed little interest in his eldest son. For a time Aldfrith wondered whether it was because he was a bastard; certainly Oswiu seemed eager enough to forget his mother once he became betrothed to the daughter of the King of Rheged. But he seemed to pay as little attention to her son, Alchfrith, or his daughter as he did to Aldfrith. It wasn’t until Oswiu married Eanflæd that he took any interest in his children. Perhaps he had only really loved her and that was why he took a delight in her offspring.

  Aldfrith sighed as the wind whipped his robes around his torso as he knelt by the grave. He hadn’t really known Ecgfrith so he didn’t hate him, but he resented the problems he had left behind. It had taken Aldfrith a long time to discover where his true passion in life lay, and it wasn’t in exercising power or being a warrior.

  He took delight in scholarship, especially discovering what had h
appened in the past and why. He was also a theologian. So much of what was written in the Bible puzzled him so he’d spent a long time trying to unearth the truth. Because he questioned some of what the priests and monks accepted as fact, he had never taken the final step and become one of them. Now he wondered whether that had been wise. Had he been in Holy Orders he wouldn’t be eligible to be King of Northumbria. It was not a role he desired, not now at any rate, nor did he think he was capable of being a good king.

  He had an orderly mind, he was a good administrator and he had earned the respect of his peers, but he felt that was as far as his qualities went. Nevertheless, he felt obliged to accept what fate evidently had in store for him. Northumbria needed him as its ruler and so he would meet his obligations. Sighing he got to his feet and, with a last look at Ecgfrith’s grave, he made his way to the church, now thankfully with the wind at his back, to pray for God’s help in the days and years to come.

  ~~~

  The Witan which met in the monastery church at Hexham was a sorry affair. Apart from the three bishops and the abbots of Melrose, Ripon and Jarrow, only six of the eighteen ealdorman who had been appointed by Ecgfrith were present. A dozen had died at Dùn Nectain and of those left behind only Osfrid was under the age of fifty. Conomultus was also there as the representative of the boy Eochaid.

  There had been nearly three hundred thegns too. Most had been with Ecgfrith’s army, only those from the three shires that bordered Mercia had remained at home. However, thegns no longer attended the Witan, and hadn’t since the creation of ealdormen.

  The church itself was as mean as the attendance. Unlike the stone-built churches of Whitby, Ripon, Eoforwīc and Lindisfarne, that at Hexham was built of wood with a roof of timber covered in sods. The grass was long and the earth retained the rainwater meaning it was unkempt in appearance and really too heavy for the supporting rafters. Consequently it creaked occasionally, making those below fear that it might collapse on top of them.

  The only stone building at Hexham was the abbot’s lodging, built when Wilfrid was abbot. Osfrid thought it was typical of the man to have concentrated on his creature comforts when visiting in preference to the house of God.

  The interior of the church was as primitive as the exterior. Apart from the altar with its gold cross and candlesticks, there was no ornamentation. The floor was of beaten earth covered in rushes and the only seating was benches either side of the chancel and a chair and prie dieu for the officiating priest. The benches were occupied by the members of the Witan and the chair by John of Beverley.

  Bishop Eata had died earlier in the year and the new bishop was formerly the Abbot of Beverley in Deira. Although junior to the two other bishops present, he presided as the host.

  Bishop John asked for those æthelings who wished to be considered for the vacant throne to stand up. To Osfrid’s amazement the first man on his feet was Benoc, Godwyna’s father.

  He knew that the man was sixty one and suffered from acute stiffness in his joints. The thirty mile journey to Hexham must have been agony for him. When Osfrid had spoken to him to commiserate on the death of his son at the fateful battle he had said nothing about a bid for the throne.

  ‘I am Benoc, son of Hering, son of Hussa, son of Ida and cousin of Æthelfrith, who was, as you all know, the father of Oswald and Oswiu and grandfather of Ecgfrith. Hussa was King of Bernicia and my father, Hering, should have succeeded him but the Witan decided otherwise and made Æthelfrith king instead. He drove me and my father into exile and I was only able to return when Oswiu came to the throne. Later he made me Ealdorman of Jarrow. I therefore claim that I have a prior claim to the throne over Aldfrith who was born out of wedlock.’

  Having delivered his thunderbolt, Benoc sat down and Aldfrith slowly got to his feet.

  ‘My lords, spiritual and temporal, I am here because Bishop Cuthert came to Iona and asked me to come. He, like me, no doubt thought that, as I was the only surviving grandson of Æthelfrith, the first King of Northumbria, I would be the only candidate. I have no great desire to rule and I would be content to return to my studies on Iona, but one thing prevents me. I am convinced now that ruling this kingdom is God’s purpose for me.

  ‘Benoc says that, by the rules of primogeniture, his father had a better right to be King of Bernicia when Hussa died than my grandfather did. This is true. However, it is not the practice of Anglo-Saxons to use primogeniture to determine the succession? That is determined by the Witan who choose from amongst the æthelings. My understanding of the meaning of ætheling is a male member of the royal dynasty. Whilst Benoc may be entitled to regard himself as an ætheling of the Kingdom of Bernicia, he is not an ætheling of the Kingdom of Northumbria. That term is restricted to the male descendants of Æthelfrith who, by marrying into the royal house of Deira, created a new dynasty to rule the Kingdom of Northumbria.

  ‘If that is not the case, then any male descendants of Ida and any surviving members of the Royal House of Deira should be eligible for election here today.’

  With that Aldfrith sat down and an excited hubbub ensued. It was a little while before John of Beverley could re-establish order but, when he did, Cuthbert got to his feet.

  ‘I suggest we need to make a ruling on the admissibility of candidates for the throne in view of what Prince Aldfrith has said. Personally I don’t think that bastardy should be a factor. There are other kings who have been born illegitimate, in Wessex and Mercia for example. There is, however, a practical point I think we need to consider. Whether or not Ealdorman Benoc should be considered as an ætheling of Northumbria, there is his age to consider and the fact that, tragically, his son was slain at Dùn Nectain. If your choice fell on him who would be king when he dies? If the answer is Aldfrith, better he is elected now, rather than later.’

  Benoc laboriously rose to his feet again.

  ‘I may have lost my son but I have two grandsons, Eochaid of Alnwic and Eadwulf of Bebbanburg.’

  The statement made Osfrid sit up with a jolt. Was Benoc saying that his son was an ætheling? How his father would have loved that: from shepherd boy to prince in two generations. He looked across the chancel at Conomultus who raised his eyebrow quizzically and smiled grimly. If Benoc was chosen it would make the two cousins rivals for the throne in due course. It didn’t seem possible and it was time someone introduced a cold dose of reality to the proceedings. Conomultus stood as soon as Benoc had been helped to sit down again.

  ‘Speaking as the guardian of one of Benoc’s grandsons and uncle of the other I would like to point out that one boy is five and the other one and a half. It will be well over a decade before either are old enough to be candidates to succeed Benoc, were he to be elected. I’m a churchman not a warrior but I believe that in the dire situation we find ourselves in we need a man of vigour and ability to lead us. Like me, Benoc is hampered by his advancing years. I mean no disrespect, ealdorman, but your day has passed.’

  John cleared his throat noisily.

  ‘Very well, does anyone else wish to speak before we vote on whether Benoc should be considered a candidate for the vacant throne?’

  Osfrid stood and turned to address the Witan.

  ‘As the father of Eadwulf, and hopefully more grandsons for Benoc,’ he began and then waited for the laughter to die away, ‘I believe that he and Eochaid should be recognised as æthelings. However, my uncle is correct when he says we need a man who has a long reign ahead of him so that he can restore Northumbria’s fortunes. That man is Aldfrith.’

  ~~~

  Cuthbert felt exhausted after Aldfrith’s coronation was over and was dreading the journey back to Lindisfarne. He was now fifty one which, although it was a good age, many churchmen had lived decades longer. The previous Pope, Leo II, had been seventy two when he died and the Pope when Ecgfrith came to the throne, Vitalian, had lived until he was ninety two. Cuthbert was under no illusion that he would live as long as they had.

  It was only seventy miles from Hexham to Lin
disfarne but it took Cuthbert a week to get there. Osfrid insisted on accompanying him all the way and Conomultus joined them as far as Alnwic. Cuthbert needed frequent rest stops and uncle and nephew took advantage of these to go hunting. They bagged pheasants and the smaller breeds of deer in the main but couldn’t eat them there and then as they needed to hang for a while. Some were added to the larder at Alnwic and the rest taken on to Bebbanburg. Cuthbert declined the offer of some for his monastery saying that he didn’t want his monks to get used to eating meat or they’d want it all the time.

  It was the evening on the last day of September by the time Cuthbert arrived at Lindisfarne, having departed from Osfrid just after midday. His monks were overjoyed at his return but Cuthbert retired to his hut as soon as he could and collapsed onto the straw paillasse that served as his bed. He slept for twenty seven hours, to the consternation of everyone except the prior, a monk from Iona named EadBehrt, who realised how gruelling travelling so far, and under such great mental strain, must have been.

  Two days later Cuthbert seemed to have recovered and he resumed his duties; however, he confided in EadBehrt that he continued to feel weary and drained. From the time of his return EadBehrt began to assume more and more of Cuthbert’s duties as abbot.

  As soon as he rode into Bebbanburg Osfrid jumped from his horse and watched as his wife ran to him, all dignity forgotten. He only had eyes for her face as he pulled Godwyna into a hug, then he became aware that her belly was distended.

  ‘Are you?’

  ‘Yes, I’m pregnant again. The baby’s expected early in the new year.’

  Osfrid kissed his wife tenderly and took her off to their chamber to celebrate their reunion in private.

  The baby turned out to be a girl who they christened Guthild. From the first Eadwulf was jealous of the new arrival and the attention she took away from him. It was not a trait that endeared him to his father, though Godwyna always made excuses for him.