“How can we forget all of the people who were stabbed through the genitals while sitting in their garderobe?”

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That’s the question posed by historian Katherine Weikert, while reflecting on the important role of toilets in the society of the Middle Ages. Beyond their practical purpose, toilets also played a role in people’s imaginations.

As evidence of this, few medieval tales are as vivid – or as gruesome – as the alleged death of Edmund Ironside.

According to later accounts, the Anglo-Saxon king Edmund Ironside was assassinated while sitting on a toilet, killed by a weapon thrust up through his body from below.

It’s certainly a striking image. It also likely never happened.

But if he didn’t die on the toilet, how did Edmund Ironside meet his death? Who killed him? And what does it have to do with the Bible?

The king of a collapsing kingdom

Edmund Ironside ruled England for only a few months in 1016, during one of the most unstable periods in early English history, with a resurgence of Viking aggression.

At this time, England was an Anglo-Saxon kingdom without a standing army or centralised bureaucracy, making it vulnerable to repeated invasions. During Edmund’s rule, the Danish prince Cnut was leading a determined campaign to conquer England.

Edmund was the son of Æthelred II – often remembered as Æthelred the Unready – and inherited a kingdom under sustained assault. The unflattering epithet ‘Unready’ doesn’t actually mean ‘unprepared’ in the modern sense, but comes from the Old English unræd, meaning ‘poorly advised,’ reflecting criticism of his rule.

Unlike Æthelred, Edmund’s positive moniker ‘Ironside’ reflected his resilience in battle. Over the course of 1016, he fought a series of engagements against Danish forces, attempting to preserve English rule.

The decisive moment came at the battle of Assandun in October 1016. Edmund’s army was defeated, and soon after, Edmund and Cnut agreed to divide the kingdom between them. Under this agreement, Edmund retained control of Wessex in the south, while Cnut took vast swathes of the rest of England.

Within weeks of this, Edmund was dead.

Illustration of two medieval kings meeting and clasping hands, surrounded by soldiers and attendants.
An illustration depicting the 1016 meeting between Edmund Ironside of England and the Danish king Cnut after years of conflict. Their encounter, said to have taken place on an island in the River Severn, marked a negotiated division of England. (Photo by Getty Images)

What the earliest sources say

Despite the dramatic later stories, the earliest records of Edmund’s death are notably restrained.

“The most famous example [of death on a toilet] in the English context is Edmund Ironside, who died in 1016,” Weikert explains, speaking on the HistoryExtra podcast. “But contemporary historical records basically just say he died, with no suggestion of wrongdoing.”

The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle – a collection of annals compiled by monastic scribes, and one of the most important sources for early English history – records Edmund’s death without any hint of violence or conspiracy.

Other near-contemporary writers are equally unremarkable. William of Malmesbury, writing in the 12th century but generally careful with his sources, “says nothing about this”, Weikert notes.

The first suggestions that Edmund may have died unnaturally appear only later.

“Adam of Bremen, writing in the late 11th century, suggests Edmund may have been poisoned,” Weikert says. This is the earliest hint of foul play.

By the 12th century, however, the story had become far more elaborate.

“We start getting the story that he was killed on the toilet by the 12th century,” Weikert explains. One of the earliest detailed versions comes from Henry of Huntingdon.

“He says that Edmund Ironside was on the toilet and was either stabbed or shot with a bow from below,” Weikert says, pointing out that he highlights “the very uncomfortable idea of something going up through the groin and potentially out through the stomach.”

Later writers embellished the narrative further.

“Geoffrey Gaimar adds details, saying there was a crossbow that was booby-trapped,” Weikert notes. In this version, the king triggers the mechanism simply by sitting down.

By the 13th century, the story was very well known. “There’s also a great 13th-century illuminated manuscript that shows this,” she says. “It’s quite gruesome.”

Illustration in an illuminated manuscript shows the death of Edmund Ironside
This section of an illuminated manuscript shows the death of the king Edmund Ironside. He is shown being impaled by a spear from underneath while seated on the toilet. (Photo by Cambridge, University Library)

A convenient villain

As the story evolved, it needed a villain: Eadric Streona.

Eadric was an ealdorman – a powerful regional noble and royal official in Anglo-Saxon England, responsible for administering large territories and leading troops – and a deeply controversial figure. At the Battle of Assandun, he switched sides, contributing to Edmund’s defeat.

“A lot of this becomes tied to blaming Eadric Streona, or rather his son,” Weikert explains.

His reputation for betrayal made him an ideal candidate for later accusations. Crucially, however, this connection appears only in later sources.

“Later sources begin blaming him for the murder – well after the fact,” Weikert says.

In this instance, it’s Weikert’s view that the villainous Eadric might not be at all to blame.

Biblical echoes and medieval storytelling

If the story of Edmund’s death – and Eadric’s role in it – wasn’t based on fact, where did it come from?

Part of the answer might relate to the literary habits of medieval writers.

“There’s likely a literary influence,” Weikert explains. Medieval historians were often clerics, educated in religious institutions and deeply familiar with biblical narratives. So, historical writing in the Middle Ages sometimes blended fact with Biblical moral interpretation rather than aiming for strict factual accuracy in the modern sense, and “often included biblical references to demonstrate their learning”.

One Biblical story in particular may have provided a template.

“There may be a biblical reference here, from the Old Testament, in the Book of Judges — the assassination of King Eglon of Moab,” she says.

In that account, the Moabite king Eglon is killed in a private chamber by Ehud. The description is deliberately graphic. “The text says ‘the filth came out’,” Weikert notes.

The parallels between this story and the story of Edmund’s death are quite clear. And, adding to the evidence that it might have been inspired by religious literature is the fact that this motif wasn’t unique to Edmund. “There are other examples too,” Weikert adds. Godfrey IV Duke of Lower Lorraine, who died in 1076, was also later said to have been killed on the toilet.

This suggests a broader storytelling pattern, rather than a single historical event.

Toilets through time

Member exclusive | What was it like to do your business in a Roman communal toilet? Why was the devil thought to lurk in medieval privies? And did constipation turn Henry VIII into a tyrant? In this four-part mini-series, David Musgrove heads down the u-bend in the company of leading historical experts to see what we can learn from the most universal of all experiences: going to the loo.

Listen to all episodes now

But what would the motivation have been to embellish the story of Edmund’s death?

By the 12th century, when the toilet-based version of the story emerges, writers were looking back on this period of upheaval: the Danish conquest of England and, later, the Norman Conquest.

“There’s a sense that writers are trying to make sense of that turbulent period,” Weikert explains. By drawing inspiration from the Bible, stories like Edmund’s death helped impose moral order on chaotic events, transforming political collapse into narratives of betrayal and punishment. Blaming Eadric Streona as a Judas-like figure would have reinforced that moral framework.

The more shocking the story, the more memorable it would be. And with parallels to stories from the Bible, a memorable story could become a moral guide.

So what really happened to Edmund Ironside?

Weikert says that, for Edmund, a much more mundane death is far more plausible.

“He had just undergone months of warfare,” she says. Early medieval campaigning was physically exhausting, and Edmund himself could well have suffered a wound. Even relatively minor injuries could become fatal through infection and frequently proved deadly.

“A sudden death would not be surprising if he had a festering wound. The most likely explanation is natural causes,” Weikert concludes.

The story of Edmund Ironside is likely to be one of a king who died after a brutal campaign, in circumstances never fully recorded, later transformed into a convenient moral lesson.

Katherine Weikert was speaking to David Musgrove on the HistoryExtra podcast. Listen to the full conversation.

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Authors

James OsborneSenior content producer

James Osborne is a senior content producer at HistoryExtra

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