Aelwyn’s Saga
Blog 15
I visited Sutton Hoo not long ago. The site has been updated and the visitor numbers have increased since the release of “The Dig”, the excellent film about the discovery of the buried Saxon longship.
The on-site museum is very well designed and gives you a powerful insight into the people and politics of the time. The effort required to drag a twenty-year-old longship a mile uphill and bury it is remarkable. Visiting the other tumuli and learning the way in which some of those buried there fit into the story was moving.
A little while later, most probably stimulated by my visit, I wrote Aelwyn’s Saga, a narrative poem in the heroic style. It tells the story of a Saxon boy whose village is pillaged by Ivar the Boneless’ horde in 865 CE. Although my hero is fictitious, everyone and everything else in the Saga really happened and existed, including Foillan, the Abbott of Cnobheresburg, though he may have left his position a year or two before the invasion, no one is quite sure.
Aelwyn’s Saga
When Vikings raged across the sea and ravaged life and land,
A shepherd boy there chanced to be, with skill and strength of hand.
His name was Aelwyn, tall and blond and eighteen winters old.
His eyes were blue, his girl was fond, his instincts true and bold.
His pasture, near Cnobheresburg, was rich in grass and loam,
Close to the bay, by reed and spurge, where sheep could safely roam.
An Anglo-Saxon by his breed, he loved this peaceful place.
He planned, with animals and seed, to fill his rural space.
From Denmark sailed the Viking fleet, well armed with sword and axe,
Ivar the Boneless’ horde complete, with shields upon their backs,
Early one morn they landed on Cnobheresburg’s stone beach.
Attacked the settlement, where none had swords within their reach.
Completely unexpected was this unprovoked attack.
With no defence, no rightful cause and taken clean aback,
The village fell beneath the sword, the houses burned to ash.
Those poor souls died without a word, by bludgeon, stab and slash.
From sheep-strewn meadow Aelwyn ran, saw smoke rise in the dawn,
His headlong rush no further than the village fringe that morn.
A Viking warrior swung his blade, hit Aelwyn on his head.
He left him lying, body splayed, and thought the young boy dead.
The Viking army marched away, their plunder safely stowed,
Left ships upon the strand that day and took the Ely Road.
Later that night, when Aelwyn woke, drenched in his clotted blood,
The world was silent, no one spoke, he lay upon the mud.
One mile from there, amongst the trees, a monastery lay.
The Abbott Foillan held the keys and Aelwyn knew the way.
Slowly he climbed to shaky feet and staggered off for help,
Saw on the beach the Viking fleet resting on foam and kelp.
He sought his mother, brothers too. His girl lay naked, raped.
His sisters and his friends they slew, not one of them escaped.
The men were wounded in the chest, no faint-heart backs were turned.
He closed his eyes and beat his breast; his deep revenge they’d earned.
The monastery escaped the sack, hidden in Camleigh Wood,
And Abbott Foillan had a knack, his healing skills were good.
Trimmed Aelwyn’s hair and sealed his wound, then bound his head up tight.
With healing herbs his head was crowned, to make the mending right.
In one long month was Aelwyn well. Nobody else survived
Cnobheresburg. The people fell, just Aelwyn was revived.
His girl was gone, his house was gone, his sheep were scattered wide
No birds had sung, no sun had shone, scant charity beside.
The High King of Northumberland, Aella, offered hope.
And Foillan said, “Go give your hand, swear fealty, there’s scope.”
So Aelwyn walked the northern road, with sword and shield in hand
To find Aella’s high abode and join his fighting band.
The way to Bamburgh, passing York, took one month on the road,
The Norse invasion sparking talk whenever Aelwyn slowed.
But then he heard of Osberht’s forces, coming to their aid
Enough to bolster their resources, bringing spear and blade.
At Bamburgh Castle Aelwyn met the Captain, Duncan Carse.
Though Aelwyn gave no sign of threat, he laid him on his arse.
“Why hit me?” Aelwyn shouted as he bounded to his feet.
“I check each man I’ve clouted. It’s a manly way to meet.”
“I’ve walked for many leagues to serve and fight the Viking foe,
To pay them back as they deserve and strike a fatal blow.”
“You’re welcome here. We’ll train you hard with buckler, sword and axe.
Go join the lads in yonder yard. They won’t let you relax!”
So Aelwyn trained and grew his skill, a formidable lad.
Revenge remained his watchword still, no other aim he had.
He ever saw his lover dead, her lifeblood stained the ground,
His hopes were gone, her life was fled, no future could be found.
At Theodford the Vikings lay, East Anglia was theirs.
They burned and pillaged on their way, inflamed the people’s fears.
The snows had melted, all was clear for them to march to York,
So off they set with sword and spear, for action, not for talk.
Ivar the Boneless led his men upon Aella’s trail.
He’d fight and kill in field or fen, no quarter he’d avail.
Aella took great Ragnar’s life, snake poison did the deed
Ivar, his son, vowed Ragnar’s wife no mercy he’d concede.
The Boneless sought Aella’s head, Aella knew his aim,
For Ivar’s rage was hot and red, Aella was to blame.
And, even with King Osberht’s aid, the outcome was in doubt
But, with their preparations made, they’d have to fight it out.
Now Aelwyn showed his strength and will, became a man-at-arms
Revenge remained his motive still; that nothing ever calms.
Aella’s bodyguard he was, so well they thought of him,
And he was proud of this, because the future would be grim.
Kings Osberht and Aella held a feast for all their men
With flags aloft and war cries yelled with force and yelled again.
Aella raised his hand to shout, “Ivar the Boneless comes!
With Sigurd Snake-eye, evil lout, I’ll hang them by their thumbs.”
“And Ubba, Halfdan, brothers all, avenging Ragnar’s end.
We shall defeat them, see them fall and to Valhalla send.”
Then cries of victory were heard and Aelwyn’s voice was joined,
The army by the speech was stirred, emotions now conjoined.
They marched to York, to man the walls and wait the Viking horde
For, when your king and country calls, men rally to the sword.
A fortnight passed before they came, a hundred thousand strong,
And many bore a brand, gave flame that blazed the whole night long.
The morning brought a curious calm, as heralds came and went
The Viking horde caused great alarm and city discontent.
But Osberht knew that Ivar’s rage meant battle must commence
And with Aella set the stage: attack and not defence.
They mustered at the city gates, then poured upon the field
Engaged the foe on York estates, determined not to yield.
Both axe and sword were hacked and swung, arms, legs and heads flew wide
Of heroes would the songs be sung. The winners would decide.
Thus, Aelwyn stood at his king’s side, Aella brave and tall.
‘Gainst Ivar’s strongest men they tried to break the Viking wall.
Full twenty men Aella slew and Aelwyn twenty-five.
But, finally, defeat they knew, were captured still alive.
King Osberht, slain by Halfdan, fell beneath the press of men.
So mutilated, none could tell his face or form again.
Ivar’s revenge was terrible, blood-eagle it’s been named.
A suffering unbearable; no Viking was ashamed.
Aella lasted half a day and Aelwyn waited by,
He thought that he might die that way, under the blood-red sky.
But Ivar found his honour and, respecting Aelwyn’s skill,
Gave him the freedom of his land, do with it what he will.
Then Aelwyn, standing tall, declaimed his curse on Ivar’s horde,
“Cnobheresburg must not be shamed.” He seized a Viking sword
And fell upon its sharpened tip, piercing his chest and heart.
He kept the sword within his grip and died, a man apart.
And Aelwyn’s honourable death all men did full admire,
They gathered on the blood-soaked heath around his final pyre.
Cnobheresburg may be no more and all its folk be gone.
By Aelwyn’s act did he assure its memory lives on.
