Greatest Battles
Essex, 10 August 991
Anglo-saxons take on Vikings in the heart of Essex, England
according to the Anglo-saxon Chronicle entry for the year 991 CE, that summer, Olaf Tryggvason (later king of Norway) sailed with a fleet of 93 ships and raided the English coast. He began in Kent, raiding Folkestone and then Sandwich, and then moved on to Ipswich in Suffolk. After overrunning Ipswich, the fleet moved onwards to Maldon in Essex, sailing up the River Blackwater and establishing a base at the island of Northey in early August.
Northey was only accessible to the mainland via a tidal causeway and so was a safe harbour for the Vikings. Not that they needed to be overly wary; no one had opposed their raids so far. At Maldon, however, they faced opposition in the form of the Ealdorman of Essex, Byrhtnoth, gathered there with his retinue of huscarls (his heorthwerod or hearthwarriors) and the fyrd, the muster of the able-bodied men of Essex required to serve in the army when called. With this force, Byrhtnoth gathered on the shore opposite the tidal causeway to Northey.
The battle of Maldon is remarkable in the history of Anglo-saxon and Viking warfare, indeed in the
history of the Dark Ages, because we are so wellinformed about it. We have several sources that have come down to us, especially an anonymous poem that survives almost complete and that must have been written close to the events of the battle. This fragmentary poem, known unsurprisingly as The Battle Of Maldon, is the best source we have on shieldwall warfare in the entire period. By using the poem judiciously, we can tell a great deal about what happened on the shores of the River Blackwater that August afternoon in 991 CE. Of course, there are those who consider the poem a poetic exaggeration of the battle (some even maintain it is a fictional account complete with speeches, heroes and villains). The details of the poem, where we can corroborate them, are remarkably accurate and if we have no reason to reject the other details, we should not be quick to reject them as ‘mere poetry’. The speeches may well reflect some of what was actually said on the day and add to the evocation of the battle, the mindset of the participants and contemporary feelings in the kingdom. The poem includes several names of the warriors who fell to protect Essex, as well as criticism of the policy that was enacted soon after the battle by King Aethelred II, of paying the Vikings not to ravage the lands of the Anglo-saxons (the payment became known as the danegeld). In the poem, a Viking demand of payment is met with scorn by Byrhtnoth before the battle is joined.
In the past, there has been much debate on the location of the battle and its other details, but the island of Northey, with its tidal causeway that perfectly fits the details of the poem, is secure.
There has also been debate about Byrhtnoth’s policy and decision to fight. He could, of course, have allowed the Vikings to ravage Maldon (it was the site of a Royal Mint) and depart. Byrhtnoth is also criticised for actually fighting (the poem claims he was ‘tricked’ by the Vikings into fighting). It is entirely possible that Byrhtnoth was outnumbered and so, the critics contend, what did he hope to achieve. Putting all that aside, the army had been mustered (a process which must have been begun some time before the Vikings reached Northey) and the decision to fight taken and, whatever its merits, Byrhtnoth followed that decision through to its terrible end. Byrhtnoth, as Ealdorman of Essex was one of the most senior and important men in Aethelred’s kingdom. He was approaching 60 and so could be counted as one of the king’s senior advisers. Responsible for all of Essex, if he did not face the Viking threat at Maldon, he would need to shadow them and face them elsewhere.
The army Byrhtnoth brought consisted of his own huscarl retinue of perhaps a few hundred warriors, all of whom would have been experienced and battle-hardened. Added to these were the fyrd of Essex (we have evidence of men from as far afield as Northumbria in the army). These men will have been of varying quality and experience. The select fyrd required that a certain number of men were required to fight per area of land (the hide, between 60 and 120 acres (15-30 modern acres) depending on the quality of the land). If one man was provided by each hide this will have given Byrhtnoth 2,750 men (550 if only one man per five hides). We should not assume that Byrhtnoth had a general fyrd where every able-bodied man served. Facing them
at Northey were the crews of the 93 Viking ships. If we assume an average crew of 40 men per ship, the Vikings had in excess of 3,500 men, all of them experienced, well-equipped and battle-hardened. Byrhtnoth dismounted (he had ridden to battle) and placed himself in the centre with his retinue. His horse was to be held close behind the Anglo-saxon line. Most battles of this era were infantry-only affairs, cavalry were used to pursue fleeing enemies or to ride to battle, but men dismounted to fight. Byrhtnoth marched his army to the landward bank of the causeway to Northey. The causeway in 991 was approximately
110 metres across (the distance is double that today). Its course still follows the path it did a millennia ago and it remains wide enough to allow only three men abreast to cross it. The deep muddy banks on either side are extremely treacherous and do not allow anyone to cross them. What is more, the path is completely covered (and obscured) at high tide. Reconstructions of tidal patterns allow us to estimate that the battle was fought from approximately 4.30 in the afternoon of 10 August. When the two armies first faced one another, the tide was high. A Viking messenger came forward and demanded payment to make the Vikings go away. Byrhtnoth rejected this idea utterly and replied that the two sides would meet in battle: ‘We must decide between point and edge, grim war’ (in his speech from the poem). This position is taken as criticism of the policy of paying the danegeld, which was undertaken soon after the battle. Byrhtnoth brought his army to the water’s edge and there was an exchange of archery (something not often emphasised in accounts of Viking-age warfare).
As the tide began to ebb, the Vikings started to cross the causeway. Byrhtnoth sent three men forward (named as Alfhere, Maccus and Wulfstan) to defend the causeway. Some have been suspicious of this detail (it has echoes of Horatius and the bridge from Roman history). But seeing the causeway even today, it is easy to see how three determined men could prevent a much larger force from crossing.
At this point, the Vikings broke off and called out asking for safe passage across the water so that they could cross over and face the men of Essex in a fair fight. The poet says that this was a trick (lytegian in Old English) by the Vikings. Byrhtnoth decided to grant their request and allowed them to cross. This was the critical decision of the battle and the result (and fate of England) hung on it.
Byrhtnoth’s decision is criticised by the poet (and has been by many historians since). The word the poet uses for Byrhtnoth’s decision is his ofermode, usually translated as ‘overweening pride.’ This is a stinging rebuke – the only other figure in Old English literature guilty of ofermode is the devil. As we have seen, however, the decision to fight the Vikings at Maldon had already been taken, the army was mustered, and allowing the Vikings to cross and fight would decide the issue. If that decision was not taken they would sail away and the fight would be delayed until another day. Byrhtnoth must have thought he had a reasonable chance of success in a battle with the Vikings and this implies that the numbers on each side must have been close; perhaps the fleet had lost some ships, which had returned to Scandinavia.
The Anglo-saxon army will have withdrawn from the water’s edge to allow the Vikings to march across and form up. The Anglo-saxons did not attack the Vikings before they were fully assembled. When the two armies were ready, the battle was begun. Both sides made their war-cries and advanced towards each other, each man’s shield touching his neighbour’s to make a wall of shields. Javelins were thrown and archers were busy behind the front lines, launching their missiles into the enemy’s ranks. In this initial encounter both sides were evenly matched. There followed a lull in the contact between the shieldwalls, and challenges for single combat were issued and accepted on each side. Byrhtnoth himself accepted a challenge and
advanced towards a Viking. What happened next decided the battle and England’s fate.
In a short exchange between Byrhtnoth and a companion and their Viking opponents, Byrhtnoth himself was killed. In the aftermath, three warriors (Godric and his two brothers, Godwine and Godwig) saw Byrhtnoth fall and fled the battlefield. Godric mounted Byrhtnoth’s horse stationed behind the Anglo-saxon line and rode off on it. This was witnessed by the remainder of the Anglo-saxon army who assumed that it was Byrhtnoth himself who was fleeing the battlefield. A general rout followed, the majority of the Anglo-saxon army fleeing the field. The only men who remained were those of Byrhtnoth’s retinue and those who had seen their lord fall. According to the poem, the remaining men determined that they would avenge Byrhtnoth’s death or die trying. The battle, however, was decided. We do not know how long it took for the remainder of the Anglo-saxon warriors to be cut down (they maintained formation and continued to fight on and so they could not be ignored despite being vastly outnumbered). The poem’s legacy can be seen in the scenes of the battle’s closing stages. In it, each warrior makes a statement of intent before selling his life dearly. One of the speeches (lines 312-319) has echoed down the ages:
‘Minds must be the harder, hearts the bolder, courage must be the greater as our numbers diminish. Here lies our leader, cut down, the great man in the dirt. Whoever now decides to turn away from this war-work will be forever sorry. I am experienced in life and I will not turn away but by the side of my lord I intend to lay.’
At this point the poem breaks off and we rely on other sources to tell us what happened. One story is that the Vikings hacked off Byrhtnoth’s head (his decapitated body was later carried to Ely Abbey and buried there – a headless skeleton was discovered corroborating the story and his tomb can still be seen in Ely Cathedral). The Anglo-saxons must have fought effectively since there is no record of Maldon being attacked or sacked in the battle’s aftermath. It is possible that the Vikings had sustained enough casualties to make them reconsider continuing their raid (taking the head of Byrhtnoth may have been a sign of their frustration). Soon after they demanded that King Aethelred pay them a danegeld to ensure that they left England’s shores unmolested. The fight had gone out of the kingdom and Aethelred agreed. The initial payment was £10,000 but demands continued to be made (three years later the amount had jumped to £22,000). Aethelred’s epithet has long been ‘the Unready’, reflecting his payment of the danegeld. In Old English, however, unraed can also mean inexperienced or ‘ill-advised’ and the latter meaning may also be relevant in regards to Aethelred’s dealing with the Vikings. Byrhtnoth had been one of Aethelred’s senior statesmen and his loss was keenly felt. His opposition to paying off the Vikings was also no longer voiced and Aethelred took what he saw as the only option to keep his kingdom at peace.