"Yes! She will wake again

Although her glowing limbs are motionless,

And silent those sweet lips,

Once breathing eloquence

That might have soothed the tiger’s rage

Or thawed the cold heart of a conqueror... "

Queen Mab, P B Shelley

The Wessex Sagas

The Saga of Aethelflaed
Lady of the Mercians

Written in Rock Well Green

Near the town of Wellington

In Somerset

In the Kingdom of Wessex

TA21 9DB

E-mail:

© Trevor Morgan, sunset Beltaine 2005 all rights reserved

Trevor Morgan is hereby identified as the author of this work in accordance with Section 77 of the Copyright, Design and Patents Act in the year of our Lord’s incarnation 1988.

Author’s Foreword

There seems to have been only one woman recorded to hold executive power in England during the Anglo-Saxon period. This was Aethelflaed, daughter of Alfred the Great and sister of Edward the Elder. According to the Chroniclers she was in charge of the army of the Mercians and was the last monarch of an independent Mercia.

The Chroniclers record that some Dane armies were to surrender to her without a fight as she strove to recover Mercian territories lost during the conquest by Ingvar the Boneless and his pagan Danish forces.

She was eight years old at the time of Alfred’s great victory at Edington. This is a crucial age in the development of any child. As her daddies little girl she may well have heard and seen things that others did not. Daddies can be very open with their children. Both Aethelflaed and Edward were successful in their struggles against the Danes so they seem to have learned Daddies lessons well.

From the few paragraphs in the Chronicles it is not possible to know the true historic character of Aethelflaed. The character here is fiction.

The old ballads of Somerset record that at the Battle of Cymwich the "women did for the Danes there". This is not recorded in the Chronicles written by Benedictine monks under royal patronage. It seems reasonable that women were not passive in the face of brutal invaders. In an earlier generation an old woman was recorded to have caused a Danish defeat by cutting ships ropes so that they drifted out to sea preventing the escape of a raiding force. It is strange that these Danes did not kill her when they had the chance. The paganism of this period was complex and is not now understood. What is clear is that sometimes women could achieve victory over the Danes where men may well have failed.

I am convinced that Alfred understood the mind set of these pagan invaders and where he found weakness resulting from their genuinely held beliefs he exploited them.

The Chronicle records Alfred in 894 as camping between two Danish armies "at the highest point between armies" that was between "wood and water" somewhere in the Weald. He seemed attracted by water and by woodland verges. This must have been tactical.

There seem two reasons for this. The first is military in that it is harder for a wedge of men to charge at a shield wall with any real force across deep mud. You simple cannot get the momentum. The second is religious. The Danes seemed to choose high points that could be barricaded and were open to the sky and therefore their gods. Their main gods seem more associated with air and fire. A mixture of water and earth seemed to put them on edge.

Alfred, although a great warrior for Christendom, was never canonised nor given much religious honour. He had to import a bishop from the land of Dumnonia, Bishop Asser, as his main churchman. In his will he recognises the "Waelas" as having been good allies in his wars. These were the Celts of the southwest and not of Wales

Aethelflaed was able to rise to a position of authority for one good reason – she was a winner. Mercia had been through a humiliating period and Alfred had the good sense not to try to impose himself as their king. He gave them his Eldest daughter who was probably his best student. There are occasions when Danes in well-defended positions surrendered to her without a fight. They surrendered Leicester to her in this way. Their reverence for something female seems to me to be a possible explanation for this. In their mythology most of the Gods were to die in a final battle. These myths excluded most of the female deities, including Fri, and most of the nature gods known as Vanirs. These Gods seemed to have special powers and wetlands like the Somerset Levels were closely associated with such deities.

Trevor Morgan
Rockwell Green, Beltaine, 2005

Dedication

To all those women with true inner strength who have made such a difference throughout all time.

Introduction

So daintily and prettily

With eyelids all aflutter

Ought ladies skip quite merrily

Without a word to utter?

Should all of them be fluffy sweet?

Should they all act demure

And never face the battle’s heat

Maintaining sweet allure?

Are housework and their needlework

The sum of all they’ll do?

Nor ever wield the sword or dirk?

Just wait in open view?

First night of Imbolc 878 [1]
The Portents for Dumnonia

"To one side of Orion’s belt

Mars glows red through the night

Throughout our land a chill is felt

A cold and cloying fright

Between Polaris and the Plough

That comet’s tail is long

And few who stand and watch here now

Can say that they feel strong

This Moon it has a lurid sheen

It shines so ghastly bright

Here in this light the morrow’s seen

Pray give us now that sight

Six of the seven realms are now

Down trod by mighty men

Pray that the spirit show us how

What we must do and when

Our Land has had a long-term foe

Some mightier foe is near

So now we have no where to go

But we’ll not dwell in fear"

This secret conclave gathered there

Upon this sacred night

With all these portents everywhere

Their cult now faced a plight

They stood beneath the alder trees

Besides their sacred Meare

They watched the pools of water freeze

An end of things was near

But no one there would see the sign

Clouds drifted from the east

And none had hear the guard dog whine

That sensed the slavering beast

It seemed our land lay sound in sleep

Below this tortured sky

None heard the future’s widows weep

Nor heard their orphans cry

Prologue

There’s masculine and feminine

The woman and the man

There’s feminine and masculine

And each do what they can

A little boy may be the heir

The girl is Daddy’s joy

They’re too unlike now to compare

Each little girl and boy

Whilst little boys are out at play

A girl may stay in doors

So some girls learn their father’s ways

By watching all his chores

So girls who may be Daddy’s girl

And watch all Daddy’s ways

May learn from acts of king and earl

That stays with them always

Young Aethelflaed was Alfred’s child

She watched him plan each war

Her spirit was not meek nor mild

She grew fit for each chore

She learned to scheme she learned to plot

As she loved this sweet land

No long-term goal would be forgot

When her time was at hand

A little boy may be the heir

The girl is Daddy’s joy

They’re so unlike beyond compare

This little girl and boy

Her brother Edward would be king

And he would get some fame

But Gleemen of that time would sing

More songs around her name

"Lady of the Mercians" then

Would rule her own great land

The she wolf’s fierce within her den

Men fought the way she planned

There’s masculine and feminine

The woman and the man

There’s feminine and masculine

And each do what they can

Sonnet

Honeysuckle Sweet

As in a hedge the Honeysuckles grow

Entwining round about each branch and twig

It’s flowers blossom forth in wondrous show

And there’s few shrubs that may well grow so big

Sweet Honeysuckle cannot reach its crown

And put forth scent that calls out to each moth

To seek and drink its sweetest nectar down

Like balm this sweetness takes away all wrath

But Honeysuckle may not yet grow free

It seems it needs support to gain great height

Perchance this is the way that thing must be

And yet it is most comely to the sight

For Honeysuckle is the hedgerow’s queen

And never was a finer sight yet seen

Three Little Girlies

She grew up with two little friends

Safe in the new built walls [2]

But soon you grow and childhood ends

And duty comes and calls

At Somerton in summer time

The warm months were the best

Her times there always seemed sublime

She’d romp and play and jest

She had grown up in years of strife

With peril everywhere

Yet hers had been a lovely life

Protected from all care

Her father and her mother had

Kept all their children safe

Through all the peril long and sad

None had become a waif

But both her friends were orphans then

Were orphans of this war

Their fathers had been fighting men

But they’d be back no more

Their mothers had been taken too

And both had been made slaves

Of Danes who beat them black and blue

And sent them to their graves

Young Osburg was no quiet child

Whilst Hilda was a tease

And Aethelflaed was far from mild

All three were hard to please

They’d act a scene they’d act a tale

They’d imitate they’d mime

All three learned well how to regale

There’s was a joyful time

They learned the hymns that Caedmon [3] wrote

They learned a lot of song

They learned their tunes learned every note

They never got them wrong

Rowena’s Song

"Now Hengist had a daughter fair

Rowena was her name

She had such long and flaxen hair

That it brought her much fame

Old Vortigern he wanted her

She offered him some wine

And though his words they seemed a slur

Some blamed it on the vine

‘Good health old man’ Rowena said

As she filled up his cup

But that old fool he was soon dead

For his full span was up

Then Hengist thought he’d take his chance

Just at the time of Lent

So then he led a merry dance

To be the King of Kent

Old Vortigern he dreamed he’d get

A prize beyond his hand

But Hengist did far better yet

For he won his new land

Yes Hengist had a daughter fair

Rowena was her name

She had such long and flaxen hair

That it brought her much fame"

Gleeful Girls

Her Mummy called them her "Gleegirls"

And taught them from her books

She combed their hair in great long curls

Though none was one for looks

They liked the stories old folk told

Like Nan who came from Lyng

And told such funny tales of old

And knew most everything

Their favourite tale was of the crone

Who kept so many geese

And by the Axe lived all alone

Back in good times of peace

The Tale of Old Granny Goose

"Beside the Axe down near the sea

Her geese they grazed each day

She loved the music of the wind

That blew in from the bay

She’d sat and watch the world go by

Beneath her alder tree

She sat beneath a darkening sky

But felt alive and free

Within a bubble in her pool

A water spider rose

The breeze upon her cheek seemed cool

As she sat in repose

The water boatmen skimmed about

The spider rose and sank

Far off she heard a strange tongue shout

Off by the river bank

A dragonfly then settled there

And seized upon some prey

She watched with fatalistic stare

This seemed the strangest day

The Dragon prow of some great ship

Moved silent into view

Quite startled there she bit her lip

Oh God what could she do

She raised herself up with her stick

It was stout alder wood

Her stomach churned and she felt sick

And trembled where she stood

Beside still water in the shade

A Dane came with his spear

And there the lowest bow he made

His eyes showed signs of fear!

He gave to her a coin of gold

Belt, and bone handled knife

His burly hands seemed wet and cold

As she feared for her life

Another dragon prow passed by

Then many, many more

She heard the spearman gently sigh

He turned back to the shore

Great hordes of men then mustered there

And many bowed to her

That cold chill seemed to leave the air

She sat and did not stir

The tales of raiding Danes were dire

They’d plunder and they’d rape

They’d put all buildings to the fire

And few folk would escape

She sat and watched those Danes depart

She sat beneath her tree

As all moved off she then took heart

She was alive and free

Within a bubble in her pool

A water spider sank

The breeze upon her cheek seemed cool

She paused and then she drank

Those ships had come in with the bore [4]

The tide would soon go out

They were tied here along this shore

Now no Danes were about

She limped from an arthritic hip

But she knew what to do

She slowly walked past each fine ship

And cut their bow lines through

She puzzled at the ways of life

How raiders bowed so low

And gave her such a useful knife

Now she felt all-aglow

Smoke rose across the eastern sky

She watched it swirl and rise

She knew afar that folk would die

She watched through moistened eyes

The tide had now begun to turn

She hid close by her tree

She knew that many a home would burn

For what will be will be

Those Dragon prows of noble ships

Now drifted past quite slow

She softly prayed through her dry lips

And watched those great ships go

Retreating tides ebb back to sea

Those ships were on their way

Each dragon prow so proud and free

Was bound now for the bay

Those raiding Danes came raging back

Loaded down with plunder

They stopped beside the river track

Faces all like thunder

Then on the crest of yonder hill

There came the local men

All armed and ready for the kill

Those Danes were luckless men

Beware old women wizened grey

Beware what they might do

For it could be a fatal day

Unless your deeds are true

She sat and watched the world go by

Beneath her alder tree

She would grow old and she would die

Here in a land that’s free

A dragonfly it hovered there

It hunted for some prey

An old thrush snatched it from the air

This seemed the strangest day

The water boatmen skimmed about

The spiders rise and sink

So who knows what this tales about?

Perhaps it made you think!" [5]

Playing

The three girls spent much time at play

They learned much fairy lore

They romped and talked most every day

That’s what a childhood’s for

Nan’s ‘talking to the fairies’ tale

I talk to the fairies these days

I talk both by day and by night

My eyes have a strange misty haze

Some say there is something ‘not right’

But fairies are real as can be

There everywhere in every place

Not there for the callous to see

Sad souls may be touched by their grace

The fairies are here after rain

There here in the morning time dew

Tomorrow they’ll be here again

They’re dancing about me and you

They’re in the woods and the grasslands

They’re on the high hill and the plain

They dance on the palms of my hands

They’re taking away all the pain

They have sought to lead me away

Down to their hall in the hill

Where though I may dine for one day

A century of time this would kill

I don’t want to lose all that time

I know I would miss all my folk

So I write about them in rhyme

Down here in the glade ‘neath the oak

In woods I see the three Dryads

They seem to have taken to me

All of their tales come in triads

With stories as strange as can be

They tell of the three-times-three men

The nine who got lost for a time

They wandered into a fey den

One way to escape was in rhyme

For rhyme has control over fey folk

They must obey all its power

For rhyming words once they’ve been spoke

May stop their mischief – one hour

But those men stuck in that fey den

None of them had this way with words

They only had got away when

Some of them whistled some chords

For music can enchant the fairies

Enchant their enchanting old tricks

So whistling just like canaries

Nine men had escaped in three ticks

The dryads told this tale three times

For all things they say are in threes

I tell about them in these rhymes

As they hum about me like bees

Relaxing in the wet lowlands

And enchanted by the landscape

More fairies now dance on my hands

All sadness has gone – I escape

The fairies are all about me

And my soul now cannot be sad

And now that I’m happy and free

I hear it’s been said – "Oh, she’s mad!"

But madness as an illusion

Relates to the state of the mind

If what I see is delusion

It’s better then being quite blind

Blind to the world of wee people

Deafened by the ring of the bell

That echoes out of each steeple

It’s quiet where fairy folk dwell

In glades neath the shade of a tree

In fields in the heat of the day

For they’re forever with me

I pray that they’ll not go away

And sanity’s another illusion

What it shows I’d rather not find

And so it is my conclusion

It’s better by far to be blind

Blind to the bad ways of men

Avoiding the broad path to hell

In woodland I sit and you pen

Each story the wee folk might tell

An elf by itself in the meadow

Told me of people now gone

His voice is so mellow and low

His eyes are so blight and they shone

The people who lived long ago

Had kings like famous Alfred

They were so fractious and fought so

The fairy folk held them in dread

He told me of killings with spears

He told me of killings with swords

I told him of sneaks and of sneers

How we scared each other with words

For if one thing is strange to an elf

And scares little people away

It’s human obsession with self

They live in a quite different way

They live to help one another

They live for much pleasure and joy

Each one’s like a sister or brother

Or happy young girl or young boy

They play their tricks upon mortals

They do it to oafish great men

Yet deep neath the Fairy King’s portals

Is no place for you and your pen

Down there they set out a table

A dinner made of their fey fare

It has been said in a fable

A hundred years flashes by there

And men have returned from that place

And gone to their homes once again

Where they are seen as a strange face

Going mad they drown in the fen

Now fairy and human can’t mix

Each dwell in this beautiful land

But children may see three or six

As they’re dancing a gig on my hand

The souls of the victims of wrath

The hearts of the victims of hate

Whose sadness is worn like sackcloth

With fairy folk should make a date

The fairies will not harm the weak

They’ll never beat down broken hearts

Neither will they act the sneak

Nor poison with rumour’s sharp darts

There’s pixies dance down by the stream

They romp all around and they play

When big oafs stomp down there with dogs

The pixies will all hide away

Oafs have no sight for a pixie

For they have no feel for the fey

They are neither happy nor tricksy

As they’re stomping through on their way

With power big folk lash about

With muscle and strength get their way

The boorish will thump and will clout

But like dogs each will have their day

But the pixies they are immortal

The pixies are here throughout time

You may look in at their portal

But only talk to them in rhyme

I talk every day to the pixies

They’re everywhere that I now go

I call them "My little tricksies"

As they dance about me for show

The stream flows over the wet sand

It winds its way past my home

Just like everywhere in this sweet land

There’s wee folk wherever I roam

Up on the crags of the mountains

Or on every rolling chalk down

By streams by falls and by fountains

Little folk will play and will clown

They’re everywhere now in our island

They’ve been here throughout all of time

They’re happy and merry and jocund

But you must talk to them in rhyme.

Singing

The three girls spent much time at play

They learned much fairy lore

They danced and sang most every day

That’s what a childhood’s for

Fairy Ring Song

"We dance within each fairy ring

We knew each fairy’s name

Now as we dance we have to sing

For this is not a game

Once in the ring do make a wish

But keep it to yourself

Turn round three times ‘til your skirts swish

And that keeps out the elf

When the presence of the fey

All have to sing in rhyme

For if the fairies get their way

You’re carried off through time

And what may seem an hour or two

Could be a hundred year

And those you love will then miss you

You cause each bitter tear

Turn round three times step backwards now

Go out where you came in

And as you leave do give a bow

That way the fey won’t win"

A break in playing

The three girls stopped their play one day

They learned in silent awe

How sadness may well come their way

For they saw blood and gore

The lost sons

They’d not watched Aethelwulf of Lyng

And Mildburg’s rustic son

Go off and fight for God and king

That day the fight was won

But she had seen two mothers mourn

She’d watched one fade and die

She’d seen so many left forlorn

And she learned well to cry

Blackthorn Blossoms

The blackthorn is flowering

Its blossoms are white

The petals are showering

They bring such delight

The paths and the roadsides

Are confettied in white

But nothing abides

All passes from sight

The hedges go green

When the blossoms are gone

But they’re verdant and sheen

So let’s not feel wan

Sonnet

Spring 878

Here is that verdant green that comes with spring

The primrose and the bluebell bloom in turn

And cress starts its lush growth about the spring

The sun grows warm but as yet does not burn

Great clumps of ‘piss the bed’ [6] are blooming bright

With daisies now they grow amid the grass

All this here to the eye’s a welcome sight

But sad souls may not heed them as they pass

The world may warm with sights of spring on show

How sad for some this may have come too late

For them no more this wondrous spring aglow

But yet they are now free from wrath and hate

Ah, springtime in this island’s here again

How sad it is that some folk are in pain

Cymwich to Edington

From Cymwich [7] through to Edington

It was a close run thing

The Dane host had not reckoned on

A canny devious king

Nor could they have expected that

Dumnonia [8] fought with him

There’s stealth in every stalking cat

And claws and teeth are grim

Between two forces he seemed caught

Marooned within his marsh

At Cymwich where the Celts had fought

They had been swift and harsh

So Gudrum was surrounded then

Cut off by sea and land

And as he entered that low fen

Defeat was close at hand

Surprise Attack at Cymwich

Now with a spear you thrust then twist

Retrieve then thrust again

For men asleep aren’t easily missed

Work fast each may kill ten

As Hubba [9] slept sound in his bed

Young soldiers fell on him

One thrust and twist and he was dead

But few kill for a whim

The Martyrdom

Saint Edmund died a drawn out death

Blood-Eagled by a Dane

He lingered long with rasping breath

And bore such fearsome pain

And Hubba had been there that day

Had sharpened Ingvar’s knife

He loved to see his foemen pay

To watch the end of life

He yearned to hear them weep and plead

Ask for a Death more swift

He liked to watch them seep and bleed

For slow deaths were his gift

And deaths ought be a public show

A time for drinks and cheer

One swift spear thrust saw Hubba go

Then pissed on with a sneer

Devout, doubting then resolved

A young man came with Odda here

A man who knew his creed

It was through doubt and not through fear

That he delayed his deed

"Oh, stranger now and stranger still

Here in this killing place

Where men are told that they must kill

Yet still may see God’s Grace

There’s danger here in human will

Where each do as they choose

Some seem to gain a special thrill

Their souls it seems may lose

And yet these pagans seem a stain

Profane in everything

And they would see that all are slain

Who worship Christ as king

But God says that ‘Thou shalt not kill’

But that now seems delusion

I know not here what is God’s will

Inside I’m all confusion

There’s danger now and danger still

Here on this killing field

I’ll be killed now should I not kill

God’s love here is concealed

Confusion could cause me to fall

But yet I love life so

And though the angels may now call

I choose now not to go

In deepest times of bitter strife

Men of great age are rare

So I will fight for my long life

That seems to me as fair!"

That young man who slew Hubba there

And speared him in his bed

Took one axe blow quite fair and square

And in a tryst was dead

That axe man too was swift speared through

As dead piled on the dead

Beneath that dawning sky grey-blue

The Cymwich clay turned red

Relieved at last

When Odda saw Lord Hubba dead

There when the fight was done

He knew none of the Danes had fled [10]

He knew that he had won

The dead boy who had killed the Dane

He gave a gentle kiss

And Hubba’s corpse then bore the stain

Where Odda had a piss

There’s great relief with urine’s flow

When bladders are too full

This Alderman was all aglow

Just like a snorting bull

And many men they did the same

Upon this fresh stuck pig

Some said they did it in God’s name

Some laughed and danced a jig

And when the Danes reclaimed their dead

Dead Hubba’s corpse was wringing

And on the hill it has been said

Some Devon men were singing

They sang a solemn requiem

For a boy who’d killed a beast

Yet none of them felt cold or numb

For them hope now increased

These Danes they now knew could be beat

Their doubts now seemed to ebb

They rested after battle’s heat

As Alfred spun his web

Overconfidence can lead

Men to a pointless death

Ambitions then may seep and bleed

As hope breaths one last breath

Confusion of conflict

With thrust and twist and swing and hack

With parry and with foil

With duck and dodge and swift strike back

Blood will enrich the soil

Remember now the sacred dead

Who faced chaotic fate

Who followed where their Lord had led

Their road to death was straight

And Hubba and his Danes had died

In one quick swift attack

And then in time their folk had cried

When they did not come back

And Gudrum’s men were left alone

To fight the Wessex men

Their dove of hope was gone had flown

They did not know this then

But Cymwich may have set the seal

On much that was to be

This was a wound that would not heal

Beside the Severn Sea [11]

The Severn Sea had frequent been

A sad place for the Danes

With all the slaughter that they’d seen

Defeats had left old stains

And now it seemed they’d failed once more

When Hubba’s men had died

Their blood had stained a long foreshore

Brought here by some false pride

Hubba had watched Saint Edmund die

Blood-Eagled by Ingvar

And Edmund did not sob nor cry

His eyes seemed fixed afar

So sacrificing Hubba then

Though he was strong and big

When fast asleep beside a fen

Had been stuck like a pig

False pride it has a sweet allure

It makes men strut about

It’s when the proud feel most secure

That Fate may take them out

Songs of Cymwich

In swirling mists of passing time

Not all things get wrote down

In local song in local rhyme

Are tales of some renown

One song would tell of women there

Who had "seen to" [12] the Danes

And though it seemed they did their share

No detail now remains

But women whispered of this then

And girls heard of it too

How women folk as well as men

Had caused the Danes to rue

So half of an invading foe

Died by the Parret’s bank

But of this Gudrum did not know

And so his chances sank

Encircled Alfred was ensnared

And cut off from much hope

Those crumbling hopes were then repaired

From now on he could cope

His ally had stayed true to him

From Cymwich all would change

All Danish Fate turned dark and grim

At that time this seemed strange

The weaver of webs

They faced a victory or defeat

Events they flow and ebb

As all prepared for battle’s heat

And Alfred wove his web

The fearful time

Her father spoke to her one day

Told her all folk must die

It was that merry time in May

This did not make her cry

He told her that he would soon go

The crucial time was near

For Somerset to trap this foe

And face its darkest fear

And so he went and they were left

Awaiting the event

He Mother wept and seemed bereft

It seemed all hope was spent

That spring time there in Somerton

Time seemed to standstill

Dark rumour came from Edington

Their Hall was damp and chill

Waiting is not Serving [13]

There is no service where you stand and wait

Just drawn out time when all seems bleak and sad

Where moods swing so between pure love and hate

Now too much waiting can drive sound minds mad

Her Mother paced about both night and morn

Her brothers played with wooden sword and shield

They did not see Dear Mother all forlorn

From them it seemed her sadness was concealed

But Aethelflaed would hold her mother’s hand

Though young she seemed to know good words to say

Ah’ strange it is how some young understand

And empathise upon the darkest day

Then joy exploded when at last news came

Of Danes that drowned and Gudrum bound in shame.

The Tale of the Churl of Catcott

"Our host of cats here take their ease

All day long in the spring

Stretched out on boughs of Alder trees

Our cats gazed at our king

Our old and knotted Alder trees

They grow beside our Meare

The bore [14] that flows in with the seas

It oft time reaches here

As cats they do not like the wet

And boughs of trees are dry

With rising waters cats don’t fret

They stretch there and they pry

With us they watched the foemen drown

They watched us pull some out

Then when the waters had gone down

They strutted here about

The heathen seem to worship them

(Perhaps it was the trees)

Some said they feared how cats contemn

So grovelled on their knees

Some said this must be ‘Freyja’s place’

Whatever that might mean

They bowed down at each Alder’s base

Whilst cats would sit and preen

A grey haired Dane with ginger beard

Knelt to a cat that day

This mighty man it seemed he feared

Cats in his heathen way

That cat it was a cat half white

It had a ginger face

The Dane he howled, oh what a sight

It seemed so out of place

‘Oh, tell your mistress Freyja [15] do

That I seek to atone

I speak to her I speak through you

I grovel at her throne’

That cat it walked up to a cart

Raised tail, it had a piss

That Dane was seen to clutch his heart

His face showed signs of bliss

The King came by he stopped to look

He watched this Dane man’s ways

He had words written in his book [16]

These are the strangest days"

That Note in Alfred’s book

"Some Danes were held here in Catcott

Where cats may not face harm

And while we feared they’d scheme and plot

These heathens were all charm

They say we serve some feline queen

That Freyja is her name

It seems she’s there where cats are seen

From her kind these floods came

Their demon ‘gods’ though foul and lewd

Are split into two kinds

Each brings some differing fortitude

That helps them in their minds

They’ve swarmed across our lovely isle

Within their wrath is hope

How readily they seem to smile

They always seem to cope"

A sweet little girlie

Young Aethelflaed a green-eyed child

Played as her father schemed

What harm a little girl so mild?

But was she, as she seemed?

At eight and so impressionable

Through darkest hours of woe

She was then so companionable

Her father found her so

At Aller sat in that alder tree

She saw Gudrum cave in

She puzzled how all this could be

How did her father win?

For Gudrum and his Jarls all were

Such fiery monster men

Yet all of them bowed low to her

Scared by a little wren

One Jarl had called her some strange name

"Spare us lady Freya"

And for her father for a game

She played at soothsayer

So winking at her father there

She said in gentle voice

"Do Vanirs hide here everywhere?

Oh, let Christ be your choice"

She then swung down from out that tree

And ran about in play

All children love to run so free

Those Jarls gazed in dismay

The branch she swung from leaked fresh sap

As red as maiden’s blood

To pagan men this seemed a trap

That sap dripped in the mud

Now alder sap is sacred to

Great goddesses of old

So filled with fear what could they do?

This fear each felt was cold

Cold as the waters of the Meare

Cold as dark destiny

Lord Odhinn held no sway right here

In this sacred spinney

Now young maids and the alder trees

Were opposites to all

And Odhinn’s men may not fight these

Such acts led to the fall

The Vanirs and the Aesirs do

Each in their own realm rule

Odhinn’s men would be made to rue

Should they now act the fool

"They call me Gna" the girlie said

Continuing her act

"It is for you that Christ has bled

Now you must seal the pact"

She ran off round the chapel green

And played beside a wall

And mid the twilight so serene

She heard her mother call

She’d done what Daddy asked her to

She never questioned why

He father did what kings must do

Beneath the darkening sky...

Dog Rose in the Hedge

The hedgerows are full

Dog rose is in flower

The lane is all dusty

It needs a good shower

When heat forms a haze

So little gets done

On such lazy days

Snakes bask in the sun

When all through the night

A vigil is kept

Bold men may take flight

And brave men have wept

The dog rose is sweet

But has a sharp thorn

And who can defeat

The rose with its thorn

The alder it grows

Beside the broad Meare

Entwined by the rose

So daintily here

The petals are lost

And soon the blooms gone

On storm winds they’re tossed

So bleak and so wan

The hips though they grow

The swell red and round

They drop down below

Good seed all around

Then more roses flower

Within every hedge

They have the power

The marsh has the sedge

A confused eight-year-old girl

Child Aethelflaed saw widows cry

She heard the victors sing

The tears and songs they seemed to vie

It was the strangest thing

She felt some pride she felt some grief

Confusion seemed to reign

Though brought up in the true belief

She wondered what’s the gain?

If winning made so many wail

How could they face defeat?

Suppose her father was to fail

Suppose one day he’s beat

Then she would hear the widows cry

But no one then would sing

Perhaps that day they would all die

Then go to Christ their king

But they all hoped that they would rise

At death to meet their God

But death brought tears into the eyes

All things to her seemed odd

But children somehow seem to cope

Confused but yet content

For most there’s always some new hope

Within each strange event

She knew some of those young men who

Had not come back from war

One mother of one lad she knew

Lay weeping on the floor

She’d held that woman by the hand

And stroked her twitching brow

Though told she would not understand

She understood somehow

She understood in war there’s grief

A grief that may run deep

Whilst some found solace in belief

Some silent ones don’t weep

Some seemed to put grief on display

And some seemed calm and still

And these ones moped long days away

With souls turned cold and chill

Some seemed serene some seemed to fade

Some prayed long to the Cross

Some ranted out a long tirade

All were the same in loss

It seemed the wife of some great thane

Or of some poor swineherd

Both felt great loss both felt great pain

There’s much that young girl heard

She heard some talk of wrath and hate

Of how all Danes ought die

She heard calm talk accepting Fate

She heard some softly sigh

Felt the plight

Her father was a wily man

He knew sound ways to fight

He knew well how to scheme and plan

Yet felt his people’s plight

"Had been brave"

She held her Mother’s hand that day

When they walked to a grave

She heard the words that priests must say

And some said she’d "been brave"

But all she did was stand and wait

And stand and watch the grief

Inside she felt no love nor hate

She’d not yet formed belief

But in childhood there are events

That mould minds of a child

These lead to long-term consequence

And make us wild – or mild!

Wars end in turmoil of despair

Or turmoil of pure grief

With deep emotion everywhere

Most seek hope in belief

And monks it seemed were all about

They helped sad souls to pray

It seemed these men knew nought of doubt

They helped folk – in their way.

"May it cease"

Her father though a wily king

He’d sooner live at peace

War to him was a wasteful thing

He yearned that it might cease

Sonnet

Helping hands

To listen, just to listen that is all

That may be needed when the heart is torn

By grief and sorrow when Death’s been to call

For lonesome hearts may fade or turn forlorn

And broken ones may fade away and die

Though shallow grief may make the loudest sound

The deeper pain the softer some may sigh

And hide away like some beast gone to ground

Yet some monks seemed to have a subtle touch

And guide those grieving on the path to hope

Some seemed to do this and yet not say much

And all in all they helped the sad to cope

Companionship is needed on sad days

And help is sought by each in different ways

The words of the old Waelas

The Waelas of the west seemed strange to her

They lived in all the dark woods of the hills

So many of their men wore hats of fur

And slept outside despite all damps and chills

She felt they did not truly like her folk

Yet here they acted as stout friends of old

As in their alien tongue they’d jeer and joke

She listened to the tales their old men told

Of "shore marsh settlers" [17] of so long ago

Whose wealth was fowl and fish from out this marsh

Of how these people need not fear a foe

Their water gods here could be dark and harsh

"Those people just like reeds knew how to bend

This land it seemed it was a part of them

Adapting to events right to the end

For from their roots all other folk would stem

That ancient line was still here to this day

They hated all the noisome clash of arms

And so they chose to hide themselves away

Unseen behind the mist and fog of charms

They had no need for magic nor dark art

But chose instead to stay well out of view

To live a private life and not depart

Nor go and seek out anything too new

Conservative, avoiding too much rage

They are the churls who act as if a fool

And yet may well be quite a learned sage

And never do a deed that’s sad or cruel

Uncommon wise are many common folk

Who do not seek a great display of pomp

They love to hear a ballad or a joke

And hide their homes in woodland or a swamp

They’ve been a part of this land through much time

Content to live and get great joy from life

While powerful men impose their will through crimes

These greater folk avoid much blood and strife"

This "greatness" in the "common" she thought odd

Her father was the king and therefore great

These Waelas said they worshipped just one God

And yet they’d talk such nonsense ‘til quite late

Aethelflaed learns of differences

"Why do the Waelas fight so hard?

In this war with the Danes

And love sad songs sung by a Bard

And stay out when it rains

They’ve been our enemies so long

Yet now they are a friend

They’d suffer too should we go wrong

They’re not reeds for reeds bend

They seem unbending in their ways

These Exmoor folk seemed odd

And they’ve endured since ancient days

True to the Cross and God

Rage depraves

Now slavery it will corrupt

Both master and the slave

A fury cold may well erupt

And fury may deprave

And where it seems a wrong is done

Through rage nought is put right

And who can claim that they have won

Whose minds are fixed on spite

It’s easy too to justify

Any dark act or pledge

And easy too a child may die

Then be chucked in the sedge

The enslaved Dane

For seven long years they’d made him toil

A sad and servile slave

He dug graves in the hard clay soil

Lost hope now made him brave

He’d been a guard man for his king

Who’d died upon the field

Struck by a stone from out a sling

When out cold then you yield

When he came to he was dismayed

Ashamed he was not dead

His captor gained well from the trade

His price was fair some said

He prayed each night to Lady Hel

He yearned for death to come

At eight each night the curfew bell

Tolled and his work was done

One day in every seven though

He’d faced their Christian charm

He kept from all that inner glow

He’d get if he could harm

Each foul and filthy Saxon swine

Who’d caused him so much shame

With Gudrum’s fall it seemed a sign

That this was his endgame

At eight o’clock the curfew bell

Would summon his return

But he’d prepared himself so well

His soul was cold and stern

He worked close to the river there

The current fast and deep

He prayed the water gods might care

He ran and took one leap

Some said he sank just like a stone

That he had sunk straight down

Some said they saw his soul had flow

His bonds had made him drown

But he had slowly loosed those chains

And he had got his wish

For there are men amongst the Danes

Who swim much as a fish

A mile upstream he got ashore

He hid within the sedge

Then to the water gods once more

He made a sacred pledge

"As sacrifice I’ll give to you

The first who comes this way

Young Osburg danced and skipped in view

Upon that fateful day

A streak of red swirled down the stream

It came from her sweet throat

But no one there had heard her scream

That Dane he stole a boat

The dead wren [18]

The wren lay dead beside the marsh

The cat it slunk away

Ah, fate can be so cold and harsh

And cats will have their way

The slender throat was torn and red

Her feathers all awry

The little thing still warm yet dead

And so I sit and cry

So sweet so small so perfect too

And all is total loss

There’s nothing here that I can do

Save pray now to the cross

Unforgiving beast

His gods received his sacrifice

And they would get more yet

For slavery it has a price

And he redeemed a debt

He travelled off towards northeast

Towards where Danes might live

That slave became a slavering beast

And beasts do not forgive

Now slavery it will deprave

The slaver and the slave

With hearts turned hard then all may kill

Though some may gain a thrill

When once depraved then who’s to save

The wicked from the grave

How’s vengeance gained when innocence

Dies as a consequence?

Aethelflaed finds Osburg

Young Aethelflaed had followed on

For Osburg was too swift

Through sombre clouds one sunbeam shone

Like some lost hope adrift

She found poor Osburg by that place

With throat so cleanly slit

She had a pale and ashen face

Aethelflaed had a fit

Within the fit

She writhed about there on the ground

As if she was possessed

It seemed strange things were all around

And that she was caressed

Between great tragedy and shock

Therein’s a tender place

And souls that stay firm as a rock

Are oft time touched by Grace

By Grace or by some phantom dream

Or ghost or spirit form

Brief moments are not as they seem

Like calm within a storm

It seemed there was a presence there

Perhaps the hand of Fate?

There was a strange scent on the air

There in her dream like state

"My name is Sild" a wraith said then

"I knew your father well

At Chippenham I helped him when

I heard that Berserk yell

I took a blow there aimed at him

I would not have him dead

The pain I felt was sharp and grim

But soon my soul had fled

And as his slave I serve him still

I come to him in sleep

I know this shock has left a chill

And you will need to weep

I’ll come to you now in the night

As you sleep in your bed

And bring to you that second sight

Your path will be the stony way

With dangers all about

Yet right on to your final day

You’ll never face a rout

So listen to your father now

Watch his each act and deed

Yes he is here he’ll show you how

The sleeping wren

The little wren slept in her nest

She slept long nights away

Then in her comfort she’s caressed

By dawn’s sweet light of day

The wren she dreams such lovely dreams

There safe within her hedge

She’s warmed each day by soft sunbeams

As she feeds in the sedge

So daintily the little wren

May hop from twig to stone

She dwells upon the moor and fen

Though small she’s not alone

There’s guardian spirits watch for her

They see her life is charmed

Though all about is all astir

They see she is not harmed

The little wren she is caressed

By dawn’s sweet light of day

For in the comfort of her nest

She’d slept that night away

The Saddened Wren

A cat had killed one little wren

The other got away

That horror would be with her then

Up to her dying day

Dream companion

They’d found his daughter there, a fragile thing

For days the little girl had seemed to rave

They carried her and Osburg back to Lyng

The king himself had prayed beside the grave

He sat long days beside his daughter’s bed

Those long days were the strangest he had spent

As babbling in her fever words were said

It seemed this way some portent had been sent

Now feverfew is has a bitter taste

So it is mixed with honey as a rule

Yet there’s no need to seek here to make haste

For in good time a fever would go cool

When she awoke poor Alfred had been chilled

That question that she asked had made him cry

"Oh, Daddy" she had said "Say who was Sild?"

And memories then caused that great king to sigh

"He was the greatest man of that I’m sure

His soul has gone his body lies on earth

His like I fear we will see never more

It’s strange a dead slave should have such a worth"

Then Aethelflaed told him all Sild had said

Told him that Sild would come to her in dreams

This strong yet fragile child in her small bed

Revealed once more that not all’s as it seems

Alfred’s lessons

Her father taught her war’s an art

At which they must excel

And all his heirs upon their part

Had learned his lessons well

And Alfred taught war was so fraught

It ought not be sought out

Though with much guile some may be fought

Results are still in doubt

"In times of peace prepare for war

But keep all truth concealed

That way you may be more secure

Risk comes with plans revealed

And always choose your time and place

Retreat to better ground

For in withdraw there’s no disgrace

Your foes you must confound

There’s none so strong they can’t be beat

War is all ebb and flow

Though battles are all rage and heat

Cool heads defeat a foe

To choose the time to choose the ground

To choose how you’ll engage

That needs cool minds relaxed and sound

It’s not done well with rage

There is a counter to each move

There is no single way

And minds that are stuck in one grove

Are doomed to lose one day

The greatest single thing to know

Without it all is lost

Well, that is, you must know the foe

Or you will bear the cost

Now Gudrum’s men had awesome might

Their strength and skill was great

Yet they failed in their final fight

This was not down to fate

If you cannot avoid foul strife

The doctrine that’s most sound

And may preserve most limb and life

– Fight on your choice of ground

The foe must not dictate to you

In choices that you make

And never let him get full view

Though he may see each fake

Deceit and counter move and ruse

Are more use than sheer might

The strong, we know now, they can lose

When they are not too bright

Feed falsehoods too where ere you can

If they believe a lie

Then errors come into each plan

Mistakes cause men to die

The battle is not to the strong

The race not to the swift

Men lose when they themselves act wrong

Your victory is their gift!

There is no one and single way

Through which a gain is won

But be alert each every day

And see each job’s well done

Pagan lore

"So know your foe and know them true

Know their each fear and dread

This will help you in what you do

So get inside his head

These Danes they follow their old way

This can help them to fail

You may select a place and day

When they may feel more frail

When banners flutter in the breeze

They’re told that they’ll hold sway

A calm day bring a chance to seize

For that’s their luckless day

It’s in their minds you beat your foe

In your mind they beat you

Some places cause them greater woe

Where you may make them rue

They follow demons of the air

Their trees are oak or ash

They follow signs that if not there

Then they’ll not act as brash

They fear things that we do not fear

Like sap from alder trees

They tremble should they be forced near

Strange symbols such as these"

So Alfred taught much pagan lore

Taught his folk and his thanes

This some made churchmen insecure

But helped to beat the Danes

Some priests may help bring peace of mind

Help men who face great strife

Yet of this foe they were so blind

They were a risk to life

He saved this land for Christendom

Yet was not made a saint

Though this secured all Albion

Could he have borne some taint?

Whilst Alfred won they could condone

These lessons that he taught

It mattered not he’d saved the throne

Nor how well that he’d fought

To know the way of pagan lore

Meant he was touched by it

This left great churchmen insecure

Such knowledge is not fit

Not fit for saints to know about

Nor should such things be learned

They always feared the faintest doubt

All books but their got burned

But Alfred knew the Danes so well

He could see in their souls

Now this would help him to excel

And he had his own goals

The two ravens

Odhinn he had two ravens it was taught

Their two names meaning ‘Memory’ and ‘Thought’ [19]

Without thought folk are no more than a beast

And memory sees all knowledge is increased

These two they were all seeing it was said

And they tell Odhinn everything they see

This god of war he sees them both well fed

But Norns not Odhinn say what is to be...

Sonnet

Alfred’s thoughts on the Danes

"Not all things are to be as we will them

A rainy day or sunshine after shower

And yet there are grand thoughts that seem to stem

From all of the illusion of grand power

The Danes are driven to expand and grow

They venture forth full confident and bold

Expanding ever outward causing woe

But are their hearts all ruthless and all cold?

Do they not have a side that is more sweet?

They make a use of humour and of jest

Not all is victory for they know defeat

But in the end their faith will fail the test

They are well known for all the blood and strife

Yet still it seems they are so full of life

The devout

A little doubt a question "Why?"

Once raised its fragile head

Now such a thing it has to die

So in a tryst is dead

The mind all time it must comply

Believing all that’s said

The church it has the right to pry

How sad its hands are red

Asser

Alfred would bring a bishop in

Whose soul was warm not cold

Who did not preach too much of sin

Whose heart was good as gold

For Asser had such joyful ways

From Plympton he had come

He told long parables and lays

And all could hear him hum

Asser would teach sour thanes to read

He’d teach them how to smile

He taught in ways that all could heed

Though happy he had guile

His gentle way it would conceal

An underlying strength

His spirit was as tough as steel

He got his way at length

The Walsies [20] of the far Southwest

Had helped this Sasneg [21] king

The Danes had made their land distressed

What would the future bring?

Asser would do the best he could

For his folk in his way

And monks within his brotherhood

Rose early every day

They sang their creeds and sought through deeds

To better all the land

They ploughed his fields and sowed the seeds

They put great works in hand

Tinkers passing by

Two Kernow [22] tinkers on their way

Passed westwards out of Lyng

It seemed a sad benighted day

A windy day in spring

They’d travelled far across the land

They’d traded all their wares

Though May time now was close at hand

They seemed born down by cares

And Aethelflaed and Hilda now

Were weeping by a grave

For both had sworn a sacred vow

And both had been "so brave!"

The tinker stopped and asked them there

"Whose grave do you weep by?"

But Hilda had a pensive stare

And gazed blank at the sky

And Aethelflaed she spoke to him

"Our murdered friend lies here

She died a child it was so grim

But not when Danes were near

And no one knows who murdered her

And no one here knows why

So be not troubled poor dear sir

Just leave us here to cry"

That man from Kernow far away

And his poor wife as well

Stood weeping with them that strange day

Then had a tale to tell

"Our little wren our lovely child

Vanished not far from here

She liked to wander and run wild

She brought us both such cheer

We tried so hard then to be brave

With Danes so near at hand

We fear she’s taken for a slave

Gone to an ice clad land"

"Oh pray to God that in your dreams

He’ll show you where she went

Through God alone or so it seems

Some visions may be sent

I fear for her I fear she’s dead

And yet I praise as well

I’ve had a dream in which it said

A tinker’s child would dwell

In Paradise within God’s host

Where souls of children go

For Christ he loved the children most

Pray Sir this you should know"

Now Aethelflaed rare told of what

She dreamed of in the night

This tinker’s child she’d not forgot

She’ seen her with her "sight"

"Pray to your Saint when you get home

To Kernow in the West

Pray in the night when all alone

Pray Sir don’t be distressed

It’s nine years since our young friend died

Her throat cut by some beast

It helps us sometimes just to cry

Seek out some good wise priest

Those tinkers had a troubled look

And soon went on their way

They camped that night beside a brook

But neither one could pray

They took the high path to the west

High up cross Black Down Hill

And slowly they seemed less distressed

Although the wind blew chill

A light had shone upon their hope

For hope it slowly warms

They journeyed west and ceased to mope

For ends come to all storms

"Oh Aethelflaed" Dear Hilda said

"Oh, why do you speak so?"

"The words they just spring from my head

And so I let them go

Those tinkers weep as we have wept

Their loss is more than ours

Most of my dreams are secrets kept

Through sunshine or through showers

Let’s pray for Osburg just once more

Next year will be ten years

We’ll love her always as before

But others need our tears"

That next year both of them were wed

To Mercia they’d gone

Both had gone to the marriage bed

Friends die so we move on

Those Tinkers camped outside Plympton

Beside a Holy Well

Good fortune there it rose and shone

And grief let loose its spell

The Abbot there [23] he welcomed each

They made his monks new wares

He was not one to pout and preach

He helped them share their cares

The parables he told were kind

He helped their sadness heal

For some need help whose troubled mind

May hide a hidden weal

He gave them joy he gave them mirth

He gave them work as well

Their lives were changed like some rebirth

Clear rang the abbey bell

Healing herbs

As in that hedge the Honeysuckles grow

So there beneath the Comfrey stands so grand

It’s flowers blossom forth in wondrous show

It’s good to have this healing herb at hand

There’s Mugwort most healers used this "weed"

Whilst some would hoe it out from out the rye

The healers there would gather weed and seed

And when used well some wounded need not die

And Heartsease too could sooth an aching heart

This little herb that dwelled shy in the shade

To troubled souls its healing might impart

There’s numerous plants that aid the healers trade

But yet the scent of Honeysuckle sweet

Could aid those who with troubles ill-disposed

Would seek a calm and peaceful dear retreat

To lay at last with aching eyes now closed

A pharmacopoeia grows across this land

And healers from old time have gained the lore

Where ere you go there’s healing herbs at hand

There presence helps to keep all souls secure

Aethelred of Mercia

That Mercian man Lord Aethelred

A man who few could read

A host of Danes would have him dead

But crows don’t always feed

He had done what not all had done

He’d got to stay alive

There was so little he had won

For first you must survive

All Mercia had fallen low

Ingvar had conquered all

He’d let a puppet run his show [24]

All at his beck and call

The Peace of Wedmore had then set

A half of Mercia free

And Mercia did not forget

The way things used to be

The Wessex king had come to them

But did not want the crown

For after all the past mayhem

They thought he’d drag them down

But Alfred was too wise for that

He needed them as friends

He knew they’d face some new combat

This way they’d serve his ends

He pledged his daughter to their Lord

To Aethelred as wife

He sought to seal a true concord

To held in future strife

But Mercia gained more than some wench

This girl knew Alfred’s ways

In time she showed she’d never blench

Throughout all of her days

For Mercia had gained from her

All that her father taught

And new hopes then began to stir

And Mercia learned – then fought!

Sonnet

The Sparrows and the Mouse

Four sparrows took a dust bath on the path

Then flew up startled as some men went by

They sat up in some eaves upon a lath

A goshawk circled high up in the sky

The sparrows flew and hid within a hedge

For blackthorn grows too dense for hawks to see

A harvest mouse was busy in the sedge

The hawk it swooped – so what will be will be

And in a trice that mouse was gone and dead

A heron stalked, a fish jumped in the pool

Those sparrows in their joy sang overhead

The sun was sinking and the air turned cool

Two sparrows flew and fluttered in the dust

Ah, life is hard, but most learn to adjust

Nesting

The Wren perched in a shattered tree

And there she built a nest

That tree put forth new greenery

Her union was blest

The Wren she had one single chick

She tended her so well

Yet chicks they grow up oh so quick

And mothers must excel

Sonnets

Dream companions

Now Osburg came to her in dreams at night

Though grown up now she’d be a child at play

Not all dreams are a flight through fear and fright

Sometimes in dreams its joy that has its sway

And much of what she dreamed were things she’d done

Her dreams of childhood rarely bore a stain

In such dreams was no rain just warming sun

As good times seemed to echo through her brain

But other nights the dreams would be more dark

And she saw sights that could cause her to cry

For troubles in the land were sad and dark

Her dream companion Sild would make her sigh

For Sild revealed to her what may well be

And this might help set all of Mercia free

The warrior Lady of Mercia

Are princesses just here for princely seed?

Receptacles that they might have an heir

Are they just here so that a line may breed?

Are there no tasks in which they might well share?

Or should they simple find some fireside seat

And simper and adorn some lordly hall?

Embroidering kerchiefs with cute stitching neat

Be always at their men folk’s beck and call

In tragic times when realms have faced a rout

Old ways may well then be set to one side

And Aethelflaed knew well what war’s about

And Aethelred he had no foolish pride

She came as ally and well trained in war

And through her deeds would enter Mercian lore

Edward (known as the Elder)

The Old king’s sleep was sweet and sound

He rests his life is done

And he is laid now in the ground

He’s followed by his son

The roots of two young saplings grow

They twine from out his bones

But saplings may not always know

Just who will covet thrones

And Edward carried on the work

That Alfred had begun

Through civil war and plots and murk

In most things Edward won

His sister guided Mercia

With guile and good advice

And she became a warrior

And beat Danes in a trice

And Aethelred learned from his wife

He learned what Alfred taught

She brought a new light to his life

And by God – how she fought!

The Wren in the tree

The Wren she sat upon a twig

The twig grew from a tree

The tree had grown so strong and big

The wren felt oh so free

Aethelred’s decline

Now Aethelred was proud of his young wife

Their daughter was the sweetest little thing

He suffered pains that brought a blight to life

And knew his wife would make a better king

Dire illness came to him by some mischance.

He got the Witun to accept her say

She guided Mercia in each swift advance

And kept the Welsh from getting in their way

He gazed upon a shipwreck and he saw it was his life

With all the bits of hope along the shore

For fate it seems it likes to twist the knife

A missed chance passed beyond him like before

Ambition was in bits like flotsam now

Each little piece like what just might have been

Turned his beach to a sort of mess somehow

This was a thing he wished he had not seen

To seek to do good work leads to a fall

To strive with might and main a pointless thing

To dream you might achieve a siren’s call

It’s life not death that bears the poison sting

The earth it spiralled on about the sun

This dying microbe grieved for things not done

Aethelred Dies

There’s nine venoms [25] may kill a man

Some swim some crawl some fly

While healers may do all they can

And yet all men must die

A year and more they treated him

But venom rots away

And some disease is slow and grim

So men pray for the day

They pray that soon an end may come

They pray for some swift death

But Aethelred though cold and numb

Still fought with every breath

Life had been hard for many years

Ingvar was cruel and foul

Gone were now all those deadly fears

As Death came in his cowl

To fight so hard to strive and toil

At last to start to win

Just to be buried neath some soil

What could have been his sin?

No Aethelred he was not bad

He was as good as gold

It may be true it may be sad

We tire and we grow old

Now Aethelred had fought so long

Against some murderous Danes

All fade and all cease to be strong

And age comes with its pains

Though Baald the Leach [26] strove all he could

God’s will can’t be defied

It mattered not that he was good

God called him – so he died

The healer and the priest were there

As he wheezed his last breathe

And shook off all his worldly care

When reconciled with Death

Baald the leach

Now Baald he took to write a book

A scribe helped him to write

Go find that book go search and look

It is a comely sight

It teaches folk to heal the sick

It’s done with herbs and things

For healing is no magic trick

It’s done with splints and slings

Though wounds may heal more quick if clean

Saint John’s Wort [27] speeds this up

Sometimes with moulds all grey or green

There’s potions you may sup

This healer had much work to do

War was good for his trade

Disease may well cause all to rue

But wounds they are man made

He served the Mercian army well

At healing Baald now would excel

Gone were those years of plight

Widow warrior

The father of her daughter now was dead

And Mercian lords would now do as she bid

She showed them much of what her father said

Some of her tactics though she kept well hid

She knew they’d follow her if she could win

She knew in time they might forget defeat

Then woman’s rule they’d rail against as sin

But winning ways all warriors see as sweet

And step-by-step she fortified the land

With her four Thanes as trusted aids

And strategies just as King Alfred planned

Yes, burgs and forts would hinder Danish raids

And when Northumbrian Danes were wracked by strife

She chose her time to thrust and turn the knife

The Welsh Raid

The Welsh they raided her lands then

This folly was unwise

They were to learn this that day when

Smoke rose up through Welsh skies

The arrow flew out from her bow

Her aim was true and sound

The second arrow she let go

Before he hit the ground

A second Welshman died right there

An arrow through his head

A third shaft flew out through the air

A third rider lay dead

All raiders then would come to rue

This deadly dame of fear

For there was little she’d not do

Should they attract her here

She took great women for hostage

This had not been men’s way

She threatened Wales would face bondage

Lest they swear peace this day

There’d been rich pickings down the years

For raiders in her land

And now they picked heart ach and tears

Not all things go as planned

The Wren on the wall

The Wren she hopped about the wall

The wall was newly built

The foreman he would shout and call

As Wrens so softly lilt

Forts and more forts

They Danes they fought a mobile war

They’d hit and they would run

Her father taught her this before

His life of toil was done

"Good masons help you block their way

Defend each bridge and ford

They fail each time they face delay

Then they must face the sword

Their style is always hit and run

And barricade their base

But once I learned the way they won

Their heroes learned disgrace

The burgs we built all had sound walls

Each place got hard to win

Though berserks screeched their fearsome calls

Good folk stayed safe within"

So Aethelflaed passed through the land

Had forts build where she said

Though many Danish feats were planned

Each felon ended dead

A close friend killed

She saw one of her thanes go down

Beneath a Dane advance

Besides the gate of Derby Town

It seemed a sad mischance

Some minutes later he arose

Beside a raging Dane

Events slowed down and as time froze

‘Twas then she saw him slain

Then three more friends were killed there to

Cut down in that affray

‘Twas then she caused the Danes to rue

Before the end of day

Prey to feed upon

The water boatman skimmed along

The spider snared it true

With gossamer all sticky strong

It got stuck in this glue

The boatman struggled with the thread

Fangs came up from below

Though paralysed it was not dead

The spider fed so slow

The dragonfly it caught its prey

The swallow caught the fly

A canny harrier on that day

Would see the swallow die

In mists besides clear waters still

A Queen ensnared the Danes

Her heart became all cold and chill

Where she lost four good thanes

Death of the Thane of Stroud

The blow it came down from behind

He writhed upon the ground

As darkness slunk across his mind

His brain it spun around

His body lay limp in the mud

He seemed quite lifeless there

One ear it showed a streak of blood

Blood matted up his hair

He seemed to spin then saw a sight

Strange wisps from bygone days

And all he saw it seemed quite right

There in some strange light’s rays

A small dead girl was with him now

She seemed quite radiant here

It felt as though he made a vow

And yet he felt some fear

As she was dead, he’d seen her die

Then was he dead as well?

He felt himself about to cry

Was he with her in Hell?

Another vision came to him

He seemed back on a ship

A storm it raged that was quite grim

He saw the sailcloth rip

The dead girl raised up her left palm

The raging waves were killed

The ship hung limp within the calm

His puzzled soul seemed chilled

This spirit world she seemed to rule

Far off there was a sound

His heart it wrung he felt a fool

Wraiths seemed here all around

He saw his father now long gone

A childhood friend who died

Yet mid all this he was not wan

And yet ‘twas then he cried

They sat before a rock-strewn shore

With blue skies overhead

Then seemed back on that ship once more

Yet not one word was said

He heard a hum of distant sound

Pain grew – he seemed afire

He found himself there on the ground

All blood soaked in the mire

He stood up there amid a throng

A man there seemed to jest

Ah, once again he felt quite strong

Then three spears struck his chest

Again that dead girl was with him

She seemed a kindly sight

His body gone now dead and grim

She led him to the light

The other three

Thane Wulfric took an arrow shot

It entered through one cheek

He dropped down dead upon that spot

His death was swift not bleak

A spear thrust killed a Thane from Lyng

A man too old in years

He’d served her father that great king

She fought to hide her tears

Thane Aethelbert was struck and dazed

A Dane then cut his throat

A berserk man who fought quite crazed

And wore no chain mail coat

The shock of fighting men like he

Could cause the strong to doubt

At Derby this was not to be

The berserks faced the rout

Vengeance near the Derwent

Close by the Derwent on that field

Four Mercian Thanes were seen to die

And once she’d forced the Danes to yield

She made their widows sigh

Four Jarls she took them to a stream

And hanged three from an alder there

Three quivering Jarls would beg and scream

Then danced upon the air

She took from each their hero’s hope

Each died by gods of waters still

As they hanged from each moistened rope

The way Alfred would kill

Their feet hung limp they touched the stream

Faint stains of their last urine spread

This to her pagan foe would seem

To hold some fearsome dread

The Valkyries should spit and sneer

On men who die this way

And Aethelflaed taught Danes to fear

Upon that vengeful day

For she had learned well all their lore

She knew about her foe

Alfred had taught her much before

His death and all her woe

The old Jarl

One old Jarl faced his destiny

This grey Jarl was with Gudrum when

A small girl sat up in a tree

And so he knew her then

"Ah, so she does as we have done

When their moon was waning

I see today that she has won

I’ll not be complaining

I’d hoped to die upon the field

Die with my sword in hand

The Norns they keep all things concealed

And nothing goes as planned"

A single cloud was in the sky

A cloud as dark as death

His heart was stout he did not sigh

For that’s a waste of breath

Sighing Wren

The Wren she watched the great swan die

He got caught in a net

But no one heard her softly sigh

It’s sad such traps get set

The old Jarl’s curse

Desperation – desolation – despair

Here’s ending of that futile glimpse of hope

So soon now to be dancing in the air

Above still waters choked by moistened rope

No death upon a field in raging fight

No Valkyries to come and bear me off

No place for me above in Odhinn’s sight

Instead I’ll hang as women sneer and scoff

And clap and cheer when my piss trickles out

And drips from wet stained legs that have gone still

So this is what all life has been about

To end in death throws that give foes a thrill

"Accursed are those who hang men in this way

Accursed yet let this bitch now have her day"

Odhinn’s sacrifice

Then Aethelflaed had him led out

From out where alders grew

With dry rope from an Ash bough stout

She hanged him in full view

She ordered his left eye cut out

A spear thrust in his side [28]

The pagan Danes would cheer and shout

So proud how he had died

His men they built a mighty pyre

They placed him there with love

He was consumed then in that fire

As great flames leapt above

The Valkyries they watched that place

They watched the smoke drift high

They saw he died without disgrace

And heard the North wind sigh

Honoured dead

One Valkyrie then took him up

Up to a mighty hall

He drank mead from a brimming cup

Awaiting Odhinn’s call

The gods they seemed asleep right there

A Norn then shuffled by

He slept when she had touched his hair

Oh, hear the east wind sigh

It sighs for loss, sighs for defeat

It sighs as fortunes ebb

It sighs throughout the long retreat

As Saxons wove their web

The sighing soul of that old Dane

Asleep in Odhinn’s Hall

Would wake to see Danes rise again

And watch old Wessex fall

The spinney by the gates of Leicester

She wore a gown of Lincoln green

Beneath she wore chain mail

She sat where she could be well seen

Beyond the arrows hail

She sat beneath some alder trees

She gazed into a pool

The day was fine there was a breeze

So gentle and quite cool

The water boatmen skimmed about

A spider sank then rose

Far off she heard the foemen shout

She sat in sweet repose

A dragonfly then settled there

And seized upon some prey

She watched with fatalistic stare

This seemed the surest day

She seemed to watch the world go by

Beneath her alder tree

She sat beneath a cloudy sky

She felt alive and free

Within a bubble in that pool

A water spider rose

The breeze upon her cheek was cool

As she sat in repose

An aid she brought her some stout ropes

She had them wetted there

Her face it shone with joys and hopes

She sat and combed her hair

The boughs upon each alder tree

Above that shimmering pool

Were strung with ropes for all to see

Ah, that fresh breeze was cool

The Danes inside of Leicester’s wall

Now ceased to rage and shout

It seemed you’d hear one old leaf fall

Ah, was dark fate about

The Aesirs could not take her there

She sat far out of range

She sat as if she had no care

So eerie and so strange

Honeysuckle scent

Her ladies made a scent so true

A honeysuckle scent

She wore it all the year right through

Excepting during Lent

That strange aroma would cause fear

As goddess like she seemed

To Danes who stood beside here

Her wrath in radiance beamed

Their lore told them aromas sweet

Were strong with gods about

And that no mortal man could beat

A god who sought their rout

Odhinn, Thor and Tyr as well

Whose powers seemed supreme

Could not open the realm of Hel

Nor challenge Asgard’s queen [29]

They knew too that the Norns dictate

The fate of gods and man

With Norns about they’d hesitate

Or so their fables ran

Her father told her know your foe

And get inside his mind

And fables of you they ought know

So folly leaves them blind

She practiced well his canny craft

She waged her wily wars

The coxswain never should look aft

But watch the men at oars

Sweet tunes in the alder glade

With honeysuckle garlands then

All plaited in her hair

She sat before those fearing men

It seemed she had no care

She hummed the tune of some old hymn

A hymn that Caedmon wrote

She sat there all demure and prim

And hummed each every note

Then Hilda came and sat with her

She too wore Lincoln green

She wore a hood of grey wolf fur

That had the clearest sheen

They played at dice beside the pool

Put chess men by some rope

The pair now seemed more hard than cool

They gambled with men’s hope

Now Hilda lost each round of dice

She sighed then brought some drink

This seemed as though she paid some price

For mimes may make you think

The two of them put on a show

Where Danes could view them here

And all those Danes they got to know

Now is a time to fear

The bragging of some boastful men

Will never count a lot

But well sown doubts are surer when

Your foe don’t know the plot

"Do they dice here for our souls now?

What sort of play is this?"

Some of the Danes they seemed to row

Or feel the traitor’s kiss

She knew they’d fight and risk a rout

Though they knew well the odds

Yet Death was not as dire as Doubt

Nor dire as demon gods [30]

And she and Hilda played a mime

A sort of strange charade

They kept the act up quite a time

Then white flags were displayed

They turned their backs upon the town

Each slowly tied a noose

Each held them clear of their green gown

Those knots were wet and loose

The Danes threw down their arms right there

Each axe and sword and shield

That day it seemed so sweet and fair

With no dead on the field

Doubt to rout

A water boatmen skimmed about

A spider rose and sank

Ah, strange how doubt can cause a rout

The grass was damp and dank

Loss of will

Why kill men when their will is gone

When you can act as friend

For souls that are quite sad and wan

Are there for you to mend

So Leicester turned to Mercia then

Where two had played a mime

For Aethelflaed was wily when

She’d grown to her full prime

The weary Wren

The Wren grew old before her time

Her busy task begun

Yet many go when in full prime

Before their work is done

The links with Jorvik

Negotiations weren’t that hard

The Northmen were hard pressed

She’d been forever on her guard

They’d act at her behest

The Vikings raided that realm now

They needed Mercia’s aid

And though she would not trust their vow

At least they’d see her paid

To get Danegelt from out the Dane

Because they faced two foe

Meant Mercia now would riose again

Inside she felt a glow

The Dublin Vikings struck the North

All Jorvik felt the chill

Right from the Mersey to the Forth

These raiders burn and kill

The Severn Sea remained secure

It caused the heathens dread

To drown in fens held no allure

Where’s gain when you are dead

A skald who had seen Gudrum’s fall

Sang lays of that strange land

Where tides were at king’s beck and call

So nothing went as planned

"The gods of water would sleep there

If they be left alone

Awaken them then you beware

You’ll drown cold and alone

And Asgard would not welcome you

You’d go to Hel’s cold place

A sad cold wraith all gone from view

You’ll be a sad disgrace"

So now the Vikings raid the Danes

The Danes sought her as friend

Her land had borne long years of pains

Perchance this now might end

What’s bent is straight what’s hot is cold

New puzzles every day

It seemed that Fate could well unfold

Events it this strange way

Tamworth and Death

Oh, what a day, now things go well!

Success is near at hand

And now she knew she would excel

Oh, life could be so grand

She gazed up into heaven here

Yorvik might join her soon

So much good chance was now so near

She seemed like she might swoon

All nobles of the Mercians now

Knew she had winning ways

The fates they seemed to show her how

They’d live through better days

With Jarls of Jorvik pledged to her

The North now seemed secure

They’d come to heel just like a cur

Life had a sweet allure

The rain had ceased the sun now shone

It glinted on wet grass

The wars had ceased all doubts had gone

Ah, hear that tinkling brass

Both her left leg and her left arm

Seemed strangely to go numb

Yet still life seemed to hold its charm

But who knows what’s to come?

Then all about things seemed a haze

The sky above her face

She stared at it with vacant gaze

And then she saw Baald’s face

He spoke as if she was elsewhere

She thought she spoke to him

Then many stood about her there

She heard monks sing her hymn

That favorite hymn that Caedmon wrote

Her Father liked it too

She loved that ending trembling note

She tried to speak anew

"Ah, Father I must join you now

Oh, Daddy, I’ve been true

Myself and Edward kept our vow

That we had made to you"

A priest knelt down for her last rights

He made the sacred sign

She stared upon these mystic sights

The air here smelt sublime

She tried to move there where she lay

Where mighty warriors cried

About her on her final day

There as her last breath sighed

The daughter’s disaster

Aelfwyn stood there by the grave

The priest read from a book

Not knowing how she should behave

She stood and sobbed and shook

Her mother was now in the ground

Ah, Death had brought its sting

Far off she heard alarm bells sound

An eerie distant thing

Then Uncle Edward stormed that place

They bound her like a slave

She bore up neath this foul disgrace

Her heart was soft but brave

They took her into Wessex when

They had annexed her land

She was just fit for breeding then

The way Edward had planned

Sonnets

The abducted Lady of Mercia

This princess was just here for princely seed

Receptacle that they might have more heirs

Yes, she was used so that a line would breed

There were no other tasks that she might share

And she must simply find some fireside seat

And simper and adorn some lordly hall

Embroidering kerchiefs with cute stitches neat

And always be at men folk’s beck and call

In good times when realms have avoided rout

New ways may well then be set to one side

Though Aelfwyn knew well what all war’s about

Weak men at arms it seemed had foolish pride

When Mercia’s independence ceased to be

Then Aelfwyn too had lost her liberty

Cold Rage

She lay there leaking seed in seething rage

Her uncle forced her into this, not Fate

He thought she’d be content in gilded cage

Through every clumsy thrust she’d burned with hate

Her virgin’s blood and semen wet each thigh

Just to continue this bloodline of kings

Some chance had faded ‘neath this storm filled sky

And now her last hopes here had taken wings

Yet in her dark rage she refused to cry

Repeatedly that oaf would mount this wife

He had no gentleness within his soul

He thrust at her through his short months of life

At end they laid him heirless in the soil

No heir she gave for she took pennyroyal [31]

Ramsey Abbey – some eighty years on [32]

With ochres and with plants as well

With rocks and things that stink

The young monk knew his craft so well

He made good lasting ink

Good lasting ink it has a use

It can sustain a lie

And well wrote lies they may seduce

Some monks are dark and sly

An older cleric then came in

And sent him on his way

And now if lies are seen as sin

He would sin much this day

Now Asser was a goodly man

He had a natural charm

As many a local legend ran

He never would cause harm

He was a Waelas from Plympton

He did not come from Wales

But there we are what’s to be done

Once falsehood writes its tales

And though he had a British Lord,

In Odda from Exmoor

Truth may not be the way of fraud

Since Athelstan’s foul war

An old ally was past its use

Dumnonia was then crushed

And subject to some dire abuse

And so mistruth now gushed

Misogynistic monks have spite

They see too much as ‘wrong’

They’re not tied to the truth and write

To please the rich and strong

This Abbey coveted support

It wrote to please a king [33]

So what is wrote is sold and bought

Lies are an ancient thing

They write much from their ignorance

Embellish at their will

Their tales may bear some semblance

With added pious frill

With relics from the far south west

As pelf that’s taken east

When following Kernow’s sad conquest

They’re plundered by a priest [34]

And so ‘histories’ get written when

They may fulfil some roles

They get dreamed up by certain men

Ah, may God damn their souls!

A Hymn for Saint Madryn

Madryn the fearsome foeman fought

With terrors all around

She learned all that her kinsman taught

And did not let them down

Her bones lie in a Minster now

Her name and fame long gone

In death’s sleep though it seems somehow

She is not sad nor wan

Her mother’s daughter she stayed true

Her child she tried to save

Though now long gone from out our view

Remember – she was brave

Madryn did all a daughter ought

She fought her father’s fight

For she learned well all she’d been taught

And tried to do what’s right

Epilogue
Abducted and put to stud

There’s feminine and masculine

The woman and the man

There’s masculine and feminine

And each live just one span

The little boy he was the heir

The girl was Daddy’s joy

They’re too unlike now to compare

That little girl and boy

Yet this girl learned her father’s ways

By watching all his chores

And yet she never got much praise

Historians can be bores

Yet Aethelflaed was Alfred’s child

She watched him plan each war

Her spirit neither meek nor mild

She grew fit for each chore

She learned to scheme she learned to plot

She learned to beat the Danes

No long-term goal would be forgot

With safe hands on the reins

Her brother Edward was the king

And he would get some fame

In later years now who would sing

One song around her name

"Lady of the Mercians" then

Would rule her own great land

The she wolf’s fierce within her den

Men fought the way she planned

There’s masculine and feminine

The woman and the man

There’s feminine and masculine

And each do what they can

This she wolf’s child was far too mild

Abducted, forced to wed

I doubt if she got reconciled

Raped in her marriage bed

Ends