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The real Vikings: the early medieval world behind the hit drama
The exploits of Norse warrior Ragnar Lothbrok and his kin in hit TV drama Vikings has brought fresh interest to the myths and figures of the early medieval world. As the final series continues, Professor Howard Williams explores how the show’s sweeping ambition has tackled historical issues of the Viking era while creating an immersive world – one with more reality than you might think…
From 2013 to the second part of the sixth and final series, airing on Amazon Prime from 30 December, History Channel’s Vikings has brought a hit multi-season historical drama about the early Viking world to international audiences. Following the adventures of the legendary figure Ragnar Lothbrok (or Loðbrók) and his sons including Bjorn Ironside, Ubba and Ivar the Boneless, writer Michael Hirst portrays a 9th-century world of seaborne conflict, far-flung connections and family feuding on an unprecedented scale. Despite numerous films over the years, occasional documentaries and an ongoing rival drama series The Last Kingdom, nothing can compare in scale and duration to Vikings in bringing the early medieval world to global television viewers. Vikings offers up more than 65 hours, of exposure to a fictional 9th-century world of battles and intrigues. Simply put: never before has the Early Middle Ages been afforded so much screen time. Moreover, while The Last Kingdom mainly centres on the Vikings in Britain, the ambitious geographical and temporal sweep of Hirst’s narrative is remarkable. The show is able to explore many interleaving stories featuring different settlements and spaces, stories and characters in Scandinavia and beyond, encapsulating multiple generations of raiding and exploration in the Baltic, England, Frankia, Byzantine Sicily, Islamic Spain and North Africa, Russia and Iceland. In the show’s culmination, series six is even set to take one of the sons of Ragnar to Vinland – North America. Vikings Season 6: what’s happened so far? History vs entertainment, and the historical accuracy of Vikings Is this popular show a good or bad thing from an academic perspective? Is the show a litany of pseudo-histories, or does it serve as successful edutainment? I suggest it does both. As a specialist of the Early Middle Ages, including the archaeology of the Viking period in Britain and Scandinavia, I argue that we can celebrate the immersive, diverse and rapidly changing material environment Vikings delivers. We can take it seriously as a form of public engagement – not because it ‘gets everything right’, but because it inspires so many insights and tackles many key issues which historians, archaeologists and other specialists are investigating about the Viking world. Let’s be clear: there’s no point in picking holes in the accuracy of this show in terms of precise plot content or chronology, any more than precise details of the costumes or sets. This is a 21st-century take on 19th- and 20th-century literary portrayals of 13th-century sagas, themselves drawing orally transmitted remembrances of the 9th–11th century. Despite the rhetoric of some of the actors when interviewed, the show isn’t a window onto the past. Vikings doesn’t show us the adventures of well-known historically attested individuals, nor does it always show well-substantiated historical events as scholars understand them. Instead, it is engaging fiction: a dramatisation of legends in which the 9th-century Viking world is simplified and sketched, with events and processes, from the earliest raids to the invasion of the Great Heathen Army, conflated and sometimes confused. ‘Vikings’ creator Michael Hirst on the real history behind the hit drama Having said that, there are some pretty prominent features of the show that test the patience of even the most liberal critic. For example, there is no evidence beyond legend that captured heathen Norsemen or apostates would be crucified by bishops in 9th-century Wessex, any more than the idea that ‘blood-eagling’ is a confirmed pagan sacrificial execution rite (as shown in series two and four). Likewise, Ragnar Lothbrok unquestionably didn’t lead the famous Viking raid against the monastery at Lindisfarne in 793 and stay alive to lead huge armies against Paris in both 845 and 885–86 (series three and four). King Alfred’s court didn’t entertain the sons of Ragnar on his side (series five), and the Rus Vikings of Kiev didn’t launch an invasion of Norway (series six)! A key problematic historical issue is the emergence of ‘Vikings’ as a self-defined identity. No one would have gone around saying “we are Vikings” in the 9th century: this owes far more to our 19th-century inheritance and popular imaginings than it does to how early medieval people might have talked about and perceived themselves. Likewise, some archaeologists have pointed out flaws or issues with the representation of Viking ships (the rudders are perhaps wrongly placed on the left (port) side, and the ‘sunstone’ navigation method remains speculation); combat (the usual cluster of implausible tactics involving shield walls rapidly descending into open melee with few bowmen, not to mention the portrayal of berserkers and siege engines floating on pontoons); and costume (including too much leather and fabulous but purely imaginary jewellery and gowns). And while treasure is shown as a goal of raids and distributed to followers, and arm-rings feature as expressions of fealty to lords, the silver economy of the Viking Age isn’t touched upon at all, in any of the six series of the show. These are but some of the ways in which this fascinating, rich and varied show plays fast and loose with many details of the 9th-century world. Indeed, while the show shuns the Viking horned helmets cliché, it might be considered guilty of promoting a host of new myths based on slender evidence about costume and appearance. Certainly, the Norse are shown with fabulous hairstyles, and while many of those shown in Vikings related to modern aesthetics, there is convincing visual, archaeological and historical evidence for elaborate coiffures and beards, as well as eyeliner. Yet the near-absence of helmets all together is implausible. Meanwhile, Vikings has led the way in making facial tattoos seem historically valid among elite Norse groups. Cosmetics in the programme lurch between very modern female beauty regimes to the imaginative representation of face-paint in battles and religious contexts. These are imaginative and evocative but bear little historical support. Vikings portrays warrior women: did they exist? Other dimensions of Vikings hover between fact and fiction. One controversial topic is that of female warriors as a trained dedicated cohort of Viking armies with cultic dimensions linked to Freyja, a goddess in Norse mythology. When I first saw the show, I took this merely as an elaboration of 19th-century fantasy inspired by the 12th-/early 13th-century Danish historian Saxo Grammaticus mixed with the modern desire to insist on powerful female characters operating in a man’s world. I was more struck by the limited attention to female participation in voyaging as merchants and traders. I hadn’t anticipated that academics would take this dimension of the show quite so seriously. Since 2017, however, Vikings facilitated the credibility and a positive reception among both academics and the public for new research on the 10th-century chamber-grave Bj.581 excavated in the late 19th century at Birka. This weapon grave is now attributed to an adult female based on both osteological and ancient DNA evidence. Some experts have claimed she was a ‘female military commander’. The search is now on to find more Viking warrior women – such as Lagertha, wife to Ragnar in the series – in the archaeological record, with multiple TV documentaries pursuing this agenda. Archaeology, it seems, follows art. Viking women: at home and at war Religion and ritual: how Vikings explores real history Having said that, the show deserves considerable academic respect on multiple levels. The complexity of the societies shown deserves credit. Through Vikings, audiences get to see the pagan Norse encountering the practices and beliefs of Christians, Muslims and Buddhists, waging war, attempting to forge alliances, and making ambitious attempts to settle in England, become lords in Frankia, and serve as Varangian Guard – bodyguards in the Byzantine empire. The diversity of peoples within Scandinavia is also explored: with social strata from slaves and poor farmers to merchants, earls, kings and queens depicted. Slaves in the Viking Age: how prevalent were enslaved people in Viking societies? The tenuous nature of royal power as depicted in Vikings is surely right. Likewise, a sense of national identity is present, but rightly vague and incipient: Scandinavia is shown populated by Norse-speakers living in dispersed farms under different and conflicting rulers. Yet we also encounter the Finno-Ugric-speaking reindeer-herding Sámi. Meanwhile, the coastal trading settlements are shown to contain slaves and traders from all over Europe and the Middle East. We even meet a Chinese princess, and a wanderer, Sinric, who might be Frisian or Saxon. Oddly, Celtic-speaking peoples seem to have been completely missed out, which is difficult to countenance. In the series, the unification of ‘Norway’ under Harald Finehair takes centre stage, making this a popular origin story for modern Scandinavian nations as well as affording windows onto early France and England. For me, the material cultures and built environments portrayed deserves more credit than the storylines and characters. The creators have been at pains to create an immersive material world rich in Norse customs and laws, while beliefs and legends are explored from many different angles and perspectives. The first series is particularly ‘ethnographic’: one has the feeling of entering an alien world of Norse people and practices, from their perceptions of fate and the supernatural, to their social etiquettes and lifestyles. Through each series, Vikings effectively and repeatedly explores how characters interact with their physical environment of mountains, forests and fjords, but also imagined supernatural worlds and perceived magical forces, from private prayer to consulting the Seer. Global Vikings: how the impact of the raiders and traders went far beyond Britain And even if elites take centre-stage, viewers are exposed to a host of background activities by others: fishing, hunting and farming; boat-building and repairing; cooking and textile production. This diverse and evolving 9th-century world provides glimpses onto the banal – daily regimes of cooking, feasting, travel by land and water, resting, sleeping, playing games, tending animals, combing hair and telling stories alongside the grand set piece voyages and battles. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2020/01/FP9K47-f4f7c24-scaled.jpg" width="2560" height="1706" alt="In 'Vikings', the diversity of peoples within Scandinavia is also explored: with social strata from slaves and poor farmers to merchants. (Image by Alamy)" title="Vikings Serie TV Saison 1 2013 Travis Fimmel Katheryn Winnick Clive Standen Jessalyn Gilsig Gustaf Skarsgard Collection" /> What’s more, the show tackles both the clashes and shared values and practices of the Norse and the Anglo-Saxons, Franks and others they encounter in ways that challenge the prejudices of the viewers regarding what is ‘barbarian’ and what is ‘civilised’. The action repeatedly draws upon historical and archaeological evidence, incorporating and adapting scenes from Icelandic and Norwegian sagas. In particular, halls are repeatedly shown as the heart of social, political and cultic activities for the Viking-period societies of Scandinavia, but they rightly vary considerably in their appearances and uses throughout the six series. From Ragnar’s farm in series one to the halls at ‘Kattegat’, ‘Hedeby’ and elsewhere, through the many hours of the show we end up finding ourselves familiar with the complex multi-functional architectures of the Norse hall. This is a world in which warfare, politics, family and community life, and religion interact in complex ways in the hall. Another example is the defences built around the trading emporium ‘Kattegat’ by Queen Lagertha in series four. Regardless of the fact this is at least a century too early for defences around early towns, and the details of walls, ditches and towers might be queried, never before to my knowledge has any show attempted to show the vast labour involved in the creation of early medieval fortifications. In recent book chapters, I’ve taken this argument forward in relation to how Vikings portrays pagan Norse funerals, the circulation and display of human remains by pagans and Christians, and the centrality of judicial assembly places and practices. Leif Erikson’s voyage to Vinland While the show’s representation of each has problems and limitations, equally they draw on a rich range of primary evidence to afford stimulating perspectives on Viking society and belief. Notably, the funerals are multi-staged and varied according to the social identity of the deceased and varied circumstances of death at home and during raids: we see open-air cremation on land and over water, ship-burial, and more humble inhumation burials with and without furnishings. Many funerals take their inspiration from sagas and archaeological sources equally. Never before have audiences seen this range of ‘Viking’ death-ways: no two funerals are alike, and each is shown as a public performance that might involve feasting, processions, animal sacrifice, and most disturbing of all, human sacrifice. Hence, Vikings offers insights into what we know about death in the Viking Age, but also the show serves to inform and inspire our own changing 21st-century death ways. Grave-goods are shown as carrying both personal stories and religious significance when placed with the dead, for instance in the touching funeral of Helga in series four. In all these regards, Vikings deserves widespread recognition in promoting and enhancing fresh public understandings of the Early Middle Ages. Despite perpetuating and fostering some old and new myths for public consumption, Vikings reveals a drastic shift in public representations of the period. Viewers can experience a sense of a disturbing and complex Norse society, and a sense of history unfolding, in which the principal characters are repeatedly shown to be only part of broader changes in raiding, invading, trading and settling across Europe and beyond. For me, it is the breadth and depth of this imagined early Viking-period material environment, both fabulous and factual, where Vikings shines forth and promises to engage and inspire new audiences to learn about the early medieval past. Want to know even more about the real events from history that inspired the drama? Read more from the experts at our curated page on Vikings Professor Howard Williams is Professor of Archaeology at the University of Chester specialising in the Early Middle Ages of Britain and North-West Europe. He has published a chapter on the show’s funerals (in Williams, Wills-Eve and Osborne (eds) The Public Archaeology of Death, Equinox, 2019) and chapters on the human remains (with Alison Klevnäs) and assembly places and practices (with Alexandra Sanmark) (both in Hardwick and Lister (eds) Vikings and the Vikings (McFarland, 2019). His Archaeodeath blog has repeatedly explored the death rituals portrayed in Vikings.
Vikings in Britain: how did raiders and marauders become lords and kings?
Early medieval historian Ryan Lavelle uncovers the story of Vikings in Britain, from the early forays of seafaring raiders landing at Lindisfarne in 793 to battling Alfred the Great and Danish warrior Cnut's triumph in claiming the English crown – and their abrupt ousting in the Norman Conquest of 1066
It was just over a millennium ago that a prince of Denmark was acclaimed as king of England. The victor of a long and bloody campaign, Cnut married the widow of his conquered predecessor and stepped up to the controls of one of the most powerful kingdoms in 11th-century Europe. Remembered as Knud den Store – ‘Cnut the Great’ – in Denmark and much of Scandinavia, but curiously not in England, the new Anglo-Danish King would wield power effectively for some two decades until his death in 1035. Cnut’s transformation from Viking sea lord to Christian king is a perfect example of the way in which the Vikings themselves had changed. The journey from seasonal raiders and pirates to highly respected rulers had taken a little over two centuries, but it was one of the most important developments in Western Europe. Not only had Denmark, Norway, Iceland and Sweden come of age, but the English and Scottish kingdoms had emerged in the white heat of the Viking wars. 8 things you (probably) didn’t know about King Cnut A brief history of the Vikings When did the Vikings first come to England? In Britain and Ireland, the age of Norsemen had begun gradually. The first Viking activities were surprisingly small, but they were deadly and had an impact far beyond their size. Flotillas made their way across the North Sea to raid coastal and estuarine sites, particularly monasteries, chocked full of treasures as a result of an eighth-century economic boom. Those who embarked on the raids were the happy beneficiaries of developments in maritime technology, which allowed them to set out from Scandinavia confident of being able to return safely again. Though, like other ships of the age, they could be rowed, Viking ships enjoyed beautifully rigged square sails; they had strong keels and well-designed hulls. Why did the Vikings’ violent raids begin? The raid on Lindisfarne and seven more Viking dates you need to know It has even been argued that Vikings had developed their navigation skills well in advance of other European peoples. While many early medieval ships used coastal routes to travel between lands, the new longships could dominate sea roads across open water, perhaps even as early as the 780s and 790s. Writing of the earliest datable Viking raid on the famous monastery of Lindisfarne in June 793, one churchman wrote of surprise “that such an inroad from the sea could be made.” Listen | Author Bernard Cornwell on The Last Kingdom – season 4 airs on Netflix from Sunday 26 April The writer was Alcuin, formerly a deacon of York Minster, who had risen to become Charlemagne's right-hand man. Although he was some 500 miles away in the Frankish court, Alcuin conveys some of the sense of the shock of hearing the news of pagan raiders' actions. To many Christians, the Vikings heralded the apocalypse. Bernard Cornwell on writing historical fiction and his blockbuster series The Last Kingdom: your questions answered The best historical TV shows and films to stream right now The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, a year-by-year record of events associated with the kingdom of Wessex, reported that the Vikings' arrival was preceded by freak atmospheric conditions – "dragons" were seen flying across the sky – and indeed one gravestone found at Lindisfarne shows heathen barbarians in apocalyptic terms: the Sun and the Moon, portents of the End of Days when the Sun would turn to darkness and the Moon turn a blood red, are juxtaposed by an image of seven warriors, most of whom brandish surprisingly realistic contemporary weapons. Whoever buried that member of the Lindisfarne community evidently thought that a message had been sent and had to be heeded. Who were the Vikings? When scholars write about Vikings, they often refer to groups of people from the Scandinavian lands of Norway, Sweden and Denmark. While much of Europe was Christian by the eighth century, these areas were not. However, not everyone went ‘Viking’ – many continued to farm the land or might return to farming after a few years of raiding, while others such as Anglo-Saxons and Franks might also ‘go Viking’. This was not about belonging to a ‘race’ or even a religion. Being a Viking was an activity. In these early raids, it was speed and surprise that brought success. Where Vikings are known to have faced opposition, such as down the coast from Lindisfarne, perhaps after a raid on the monastery at Jarrow in 794, local forces could match them effectively. Russia, North America and the Middle East: where did the Vikings visit to trade and raid? Anglo-Saxon kingdoms themselves had their own share of hardened warriors, whose whole lifestyle was organised towards the defeat of their enemies, and so they were no pushover. But with armies organised for battles fought according to rituals and expectations (at particular places and perhaps even at particular times of the year), they were rarely able to catch more mobile enemies. As one historian aptly put it, the Vikings did not “play by the rules”. When did the Vikings settle in England? In Britain, it all changed when Vikings stopped being summer raiders and stayed for longer, a strategy they had already been adopting in Ireland. Up until around the 850s, a local population could expect Viking war bands to go away at the end of the summer once the raiding season was over; now, the people were stuck with the enemy at large. How England rode the Viking storm 10 facts about the Anglo-Saxons The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle refers to a "Great Viking Army". The Vikings were showing that they were more than bunches of bearded marauders, but could adapt to learn lessons. Viking forces banded together, tied up their ships and dug ditches and even ramparts to protect themselves. That way they could range further and even take over territory. The defence of the kingdom of Wessex by Alfred the Great is perhaps the best remembered and most celebrated moment of this period. The other three Anglo-Saxon kingdoms, Northumbria, Mercia and East Anglia, had lost their native rulers, only for them to be replaced by either puppet rulers or by Vikings themselves, but Wessex remained unconquered. The peace treaty that Alfred had negotiated in 871 was exchanged for silver, suggesting that Alfred survived the 870s only by the skin of his teeth. In 878, the kingdom was briefly taken over by Vikings, but Alfred’s return to power showed an iron will. There were enough lords in England willing to choose him rather than a Scandinavian lord, and Alfred evidently worked hard to retain their support. But this was no mean feat. The presence of powerful Scandinavian warlords in the south of England deepened the fissures of political rivalries. A charter from around this time records the confiscation of land from an ealdorman (governor) of Wiltshire, who had “deserted” both “his lord King Alfred” and his “country”, while Alfred’s own nephew, the son of his predecessor King Æthelred I (died 871), made common cause with Vikings following Alfred’s death. What happened after Alfred the Great's death? Alfred had held Wessex for his direct descendants to ensure that it would be the heartland of the English kingdom that was to develop during the tenth century. In Scotland, a similar pattern emerged for the descendants of the famed Kenneth MacAlpin (Cináed mac Alpín), whose kingdom of Alba was established in the vacuum created by the destruction of the power base of the western kingdom of Strathclyde in a particularly vicious Viking attack in 870. But if more powerful kingdoms developed, they had to contend with Vikings as a political force in Britain and Ireland. Who was King Alfred the Great? Alfred the Great: a reappraisal A large part of what is now England and much of northern and western Scotland, as well as the Isle of Man and land around the coast of Ireland (Dublin being one of the key examples), became home to Scandinavian settlers, with new Viking lords taking the resources of the local people, which had once been enjoyed by Anglo-Saxon, Pictish and other native rulers. Political control was now the name of the game, and though Wessex had survived with a native dynasty, Scandinavian interests provided a fierce rivalry. The kingdom of York, controlled for generations in the mid-tenth century by competing dynasties with links to Norway, Denmark and Ireland, is the best example of the change, and the kingdom’s importance in the tenth century determined the way in which the kingdom of England developed during the course of that century. Until York and its hinterland were finally pulled into the orbit of Wessex dominance following the death of the infamous Erik ‘Bloodaxe’ in 954, Dublin, York and Scandinavia were part of an archipelago of trade and cultural connections that stretched from the Irish Sea across the North Sea and indeed further, with the Vikings’ connections to the Baltic, Eastern Europe and Russia. Did any Vikings convert to Christianity? During this time, many Vikings became converts to Christianity. Though pagan beliefs lingered, and indeed in some places Christ became just one of the many deities to whom one might turn, the adoption of Christianity across the Viking world was what laid the path to political and social change. The change wasn’t instant, but importantly, conversion was what allowed such things as a Christian king in England to marry his sister to the ruler of the Viking kingdom. Æthelstan, ruler of Wessex and Mercia, did just this in 926, while his other sisters were married to rulers across Europe. The Vikings were plugging into the Christian world. In this manner, new invasions of England, spearheaded by the Danish king Sweyn ‘Forkbeard’, who was active in England in the 990s and the early years of the 11th century, were the work of a Christian prince – more like the invasion of William the Conqueror in 1066 than the depredations of the Great Viking Army in 866. Sweyn was king in Denmark, with a fleet of royal vessels and an army he could call on like the ‘feudal’ armies of later generations. But something of the Viking remained. William of Normandy had a legitimate claim to the English kingdom, however shaky. If Sweyn had any claim to England, it was a poor one and no contemporaries made anything of it, even if only to deny it. Those who came to England with Sweyn might answer a royal call, but they also came as Vikings because of the opportunities offered by belonging to a massive Viking fleet. Listen | Thomas Williams explores the key events and legacies of the Viking era Æthelred was taxing his subjects heavily in response to new Viking raids. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle recorded the amounts increasing in response to each new outrage, from £10,000 pounds (an enormous amount for 991) to £16,000, to £24,000, then to £36,000. Some of the money was given to Vikings to go away; other sums were paid to groups of mercenaries to take service with the English king. Global Vikings: how the impact of the raiders and traders went far beyond Britain Æthelwold: Alfred the Great's rebel nephew Such amounts were unsustainable. In 1013, Æthelred was driven from his kingdom and Sweyn acclaimed king by his men. It looked as though he would be the first Viking king of England, as many in the south of England had already surrendered to him, handing over hostages that were then entrusted to his son Cnut, who had accompanied Sweyn from Denmark. The crowning was not to be. Sweyn died in February 1014. Æthelred was recalled from exile by his nobles and Cnut departed for Denmark, pausing only to brutally mutilate the hostages whose care he had been charged with. This was Viking politics at its most savage. When did Cnut become king of England? It was also typical of early medieval politics that a brutal act was called for in difficult circumstances. Cnut was in a tight spot, and he had to respond in a fashion that sent a message to those who he saw as betraying him. When Cnut returned to England with a vengeance in 1015, he took full advantage of the messy politics of Viking-Age England. He had a fleet with him once more, but he was also linked by marriage to the powerful family of the midland noblewoman Ælfgifu of Northampton. To such groups, King Cnut would have been more a native lord than an invading newcomer. When Cnut was crowned in 1017, he must have seemed like the only sensible option for the English nobility. There was an irony here, as his father had caused so much of the upheaval and Cnut had played no small part, but this was not alien to the 11th-century game of thrones. Power plays and scheming queens: the ancient history behind Game of Thrones Cnut was not some pagan newcomer to Christianity, freshly converted. He was part of a royal family that had been Christian for three generations. Following the death of Æthelred’s warlike son Edmund ‘Ironside’, and the exile to Normandy of other sons of Æthelred, Cnut was able to present himself as a legitimate English king. He married Queen Emma, widow of Æthelred and sister of the Norman duke, which gave Cnut the opportunity to whitewash himself with a sense of legitimacy, keeping the ambitions of the exiled princes in check, to boot. Behind this, however, was the naked reality of power as well as pragmatism, not just on Cnut’s part but on those who accepted him as king, such as the powerful Archbishop of York, Wulfstan, who, like Alcuin, had seen the end of days coming with renewed Viking attacks. Unlike Alcuin, Wulfstan was now accommodating himself to the new order. We can only imagine the eyebrows raised at the news that though Cnut had married Queen Emma, he had not given up his relationship with Ælfgifu. But if Ælfgifu was in Scandinavia and helped Cnut to keep connections there, where new Viking threats might arise from, an English audience might be willing to overlook a few transgressions. Sweyn’s kingdom of Denmark was in the hands of Cnut’s brother Harald, but Cnut still had a fleet behind him, which he maintained in England for two years after the death of Edmund. Much of the fleet was dismissed in 1018, again with a massive payment of geld, but Cnut retained the services of 40 ships. Following Harald’s death around 1018, the kingdom was now Cnut’s for the taking and these ships seem to have been important in the campaign. The tables had turned. As king of England, Cnut could now be a Danish king. From that Danish base, Cnut reclaimed the Norwegian territory that had been subject to his father. Though control of Norway remained a problem for Cnut just as it had been for Sweyn, Cnut was able to make good his claim, ruling Norway through his wife Ælfgifu and their son until 1034. The Scandinavian empire broke up, but the control of this empire was to play a key role in the downfall of the English kingdom in 1066. When did Viking rule in England end? Harald Hardrada (‘hard ruler’) of Norway presented himself as the heir to the Danish possessions of Cnut’s son Harthacnut, making claim to England in the aftermath of the death of Edward the Confessor with an invasion of the north of England in September 1066. After an initial victory at the gates of the great Viking city of York, Harald’s Viking strategy was decisively beaten by his namesake, Harold II of England. The Anglo-Saxons’ last stand Where did the battle of Hastings actually take place? 8 facts about the 1066 battle The last great battle of the Viking age had been won by an English kingdom that had spent so long fighting the Viking threat, but it was a very different kingdom from that of Alfred, given that the king who fought that battle was part of Cnut’s family through marriage. A final twist of fate was that the kingdom was lost as a result, with the Norman Conquest a few days later. Though no-one knew it at the time, Britain’s Viking Age was over. How much of Britain was ruled by Vikings? The clearest ‘Viking’ division in Britain is along a line from north of London, running northwest along Watling Street across England, following a treaty made between Alfred the Great and the Viking leader King Guthrum in the wake of the Battle of Edington in 878. To the north and east of that line, Viking place-names (ending in the likes of ‘-by’ and ‘-thorpe’) appear every few miles, suggesting that some settlements were dominated by Norse-speaking lords and perhaps even settled by migrants from Scandinavia, who settled in the wake of the Great Army’s campaigns in the middle of the ninth century. York, which was taken over by the Great Army in 866, was an early centre of power, whose hinterland seems to have been settled quickly by new Viking lords who took over (and may have re-named) Anglo-Saxon estates. Elsewhere in England, Lincolnshire and East Anglia – whose connections across the North Sea played an important role in their prosperity – were key areas of Viking settlement. In the northwest, particularly in Cumbria, it has been argued that the settlements of Vikings were from Norway and Ireland. Along the coast of South Wales, a few Scandinavian place-names can be found (the best example being Swansea, ‘Sweyn’s Island’) suggesting settlements there, in the Irish Sea world dominated by the Vikings of Dublin, were associated with coastal navigation, though there is no clear evidence of permanent settlement in this area. Excavations on the island of Anglesey, on the coast of North Wales, have revealed what has been suggested as a fortified Viking encampment at Llanbedrgoch, complete with the skeletons of victims of some violent activity (perhaps even Vikings themselves). Further north, in the Irish Sea, the Isle of Man appears to have been wholly and permanently taken over by Vikings, perhaps by the early tenth century; there the Viking legacy is deep-rooted. The annual parliament, the Tynwald, has its origins in the Viking thing (assembly), and its claim to be the longest continuous parliamentary assembly in the world is a good one. In the north of Scotland, an area subject to kings of Norway (Orkney and Shetland were only ceded to the Scottish crown in 1468 and 1469 respectively), the types of boat burial in the area suggest cultural links with the northern Scandinavian world Timeline: The Vikings From the very first raids to the rising of the Great Viking Army, uncover the history of the Norsemen in Britain and beyond 792: Threatened coast A charter of the Mercian king Offa records the need to prepare defences in Kent against the ‘pagan sailors’. 793: The end is nigh The first known Viking raid, on the island monastery of Lindisfarne, Northumbria, is viewed by Christians in Apocalyptic terms. 838: My enemy's enemy At Hingston Down, Cornwall, Vikings and Cornishmen make common cause and fight the Wessex Saxons. 840: Outstayed welcome A Viking fleet overwinters on the shores of Lough Neagh, Ireland. 855: Still not gone The first overwintering of a Viking army on mainland Britain, on the Isle of Sheppey, Kent. c862: To Russia with love Rurik, a Viking leader, establishes his rule over the territory of Novgorod, western Russia, allegedly (a chronicler recalls much later) at the invitation of its inhabitants. 869: A right royal problem Vikings overthrow and execute King Edmund of East Anglia, taking over his kingdom. 870: Viking siege The Strathclyde royal stronghold of Dumbarton is besieged by Irish Vikings. 871: Crisis for Wessex A ‘Year of Nine Battles’ against the Vikings for the kingdom of Wessex. Alfred the Great comes to the throne. 874: The frontier moves west Ingólfur Arnarsson and his foster-brother Hjorleif arrive in Iceland from Norway, setting up the island’s first permanent settlement. 878: Another crisis for Wessex Wessex is taken over by a group of Vikings; following Wessex victory, the Viking leader Guthrum is converted to Christianity with Alfred standing sponsor. c911: Land of Northmen Rollo, leader of a band of Vikings, makes a treaty with the French king; the territory ceded to the Normanni becomes Normandy. 921–2: Diplomatic mission Ahmad ibn Fadlān travels from Baghdad to meet the King of the Volga Bulgars. The record of his journey provides a colourful account of the lives of some of the Viking Rūs he meets along the way. 954: The end of Erik Bloodaxe The last independent Viking king of York is driven out and killed by his own people; Erik’s former kingdom becomes part of a larger English realm. c965: Written in stone Harald ‘Bluetooth’, ruler of Denmark, orders a runestone declaring that he “won for himself all of Denmark and Norway and made the Danes Christian.” 991: Heroic defeat An English force is defeated by a large Viking force at Maldon (Essex). The event is marked by a famous Old English poem and the first of many ‘Danegeld’ payments. c1000: New World Leif Erikson lands in North America, naming it Vínland because of wild grapes growing there. Facing hostility from the Native Americans, this westernmost settlement is abandoned after just a few years. 1017: Viking conqueror Cnut is crowned king of the English. 1035: End of an empire Cnut dies in Shaftesbury, Dorset. His two sons, born of different mothers, squabble over the control of England. 1066: End of an era The last great Viking king, Harald of Norway, dies at Stamford Bridge near York. Ryan Lavelle is a professor of Early Medieval History at Winchester University, and a historical advisor on the television series The Last Kingdom. His books include Cnut: The North Sea King (Allen Lane, 2017) This content first appeared in the October 2017 issue of BBC History Revealed Explore more learning from week four of the HistoryExtra Academy Vikings course Viking kingdoms, with Professor Ryan Lavelle – watching time 19 mins The Danelaw: a Viking kingdom in England? – listening time 50 mins Vikings: A land without kings – reading time 7 mins Cnut: the great Dane – reading time 9 mins Global Vikings: how the impact of the raiders and traders went far beyond Britain – reading time 7 mins How Sweyn Forkbeard became the first Viking king of England – reading time 10 mins Harald Hardrada: why there's more to the last great Viking than his death in 1066 – reading time 8 mins
10 ways the Anglo-Saxons changed the course of British history
What did the Anglo-Saxons ever do for us? Michael Wood outlined 10 ways in which these northern European migrants changed the course of British history
They welcomed Christianity at the edge of the world Anglo-Saxon settlers first started colonising parts of Britain in the fifth century AD and, over the following 500 years or so, would establish themselves as the foremost power in the British Isles. Yet it would be hundreds of miles to the south, in Rome, that arguably the most significant event in their history would occur. Here, in the late sixth century, the future pope, Gregory the Great, observed fair-haired Anglo-Saxon captives and called them “not Angles but angels”. He dreamed that he would bring Christianity to these pagans “at the farthest edge of the world”. Gregory’s dream became a reality. In AD 596, he sent his chaplain, Augustine, along with 40 companions, on a mission to the Angles’ homeland. The following year, the missionaries landed on the island of Thanet in Kent. This was a defining moment in British history – one that would eventually see the English people adopt Christianity. In Cambridge, there’s a sixth-century illuminated book, the Augustine Gospels, which – so tradition has it – the pilgrim brought with him. Its paintings of the Bible story are a glorious evocation of the Mediterranean roots of English Christianity. 10 things you (probably) didn’t know about the Anglo-Saxons The Anglo-Saxons’ last stand They embraced the wisdom of the east Early in AD 669, two strangers arrived in England: Theodore of Tarsus, a Greek-speaking former Syrian refugee, and Hadrian, a Libyan. Both men were monks who had fled west after the Arab conquests of the 630s. Theodore had found a home in the Syrian community in Rome; Hadrian headed a small monastery near Naples. In 668, when the archbishopric in Canterbury fell vacant, Theodore was sent on a rescue mission to the failing English church. Taking Hadrian with him, Theodore set off bearing the wisdom of the Greek east: theology, poetry, grammar, biblical commentaries and a litany of saints – one of whom, the Syrian saint George, would later become patron saint of the English. But most intriguing of all is a fragment of letters by the African saint Cyprian, written in north Africa in the late 300s, and surely brought to England by Hadrian himself. The lost battles of Viking Britain The great Viking terror: how Norse warriors conquered the Anglo-Saxons Theodore and Hadrian worked tirelessly, organising the church across England, training priests, and imparting knowledge of Greek and Latin civilisation. “This was the happiest time for the English people,” wrote the eighth-century English historian Bede. Theodore died in AD 690, aged 88. Hadrian survived for another 20 years. “A man of African race,” as Bede described him, he may have been the most significant of all black Britons. They gave us the idea of the English nation From Newcastle Central train station, it’s a short journey on the Metro down the Tyne to Jarrow and the remains of the Anglo-Saxon monastery that once stood over the tidal lagoon of the Slake. Founded in AD 685, Jarrow was the sister house to Wearmouth (674) – and, for an extraordinary 50 years, the double monastery transformed European civilisation. It transmitted key texts in religion, culture, history and science from the lost libraries of Italy. It even popularised the AD dating system now in use worldwide. It was here too that Bede wrote his Ecclesiastical History of the English People, the defining text of the English people – a history of Britain as it looked in AD 731, with its English, Irish, Welsh, Pictish and Latin speakers. Bede set out to write an ecclesiastical history but in the end it widens out to be “the story of our island and its people”. At the heart of that story was a crucial idea: the gens Anglorum, the ‘English nation’. The lost battles of Viking Britain The great Viking terror: how Norse warriors conquered the Anglo-Saxons They bequeathed us spellbinding poetry One of the best places to savour the glories of early English poetry, surprisingly, is in southern Scotland. On the coastal plain beyond the Solway Firth is Ruthwell, which was once in the Anglo-Saxon kingdom of Northumbria. Today, Ruthwell is home to a majestic 20ft stone cross that stands inside the local church. On it are biblical scenes and words in runes from one of the greatest of all English poems, the Dream of the Rood. Mixing Christian and pagan themes, the poem is a haunting tale told by a speaking tree – Jesus’s cross itself. It’s the story of Christ, who dies heroically to save his people. Composed around 680, the Dream of the Rood reveals the richness of English poetry at a comparatively early stage in the language’s development. It’s our first great dream vision, the ancestor of Chaucer, Blake and William Morris. Luckily for us, during the 10th century, kings and nobles went about collecting the very best Anglo-Saxon poetry – and the British Library exhibition brings together the four most important collections for the very first time. Best known is Beowulf, which tells the story of a brave pagan warrior’s battles with monsters and dragons. The forerunner to Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter, Beowulf takes us to the birth of English literature and the roots of the English literary imagination. They inspired Europe’s first renaissance Its not for nothing that Charlemagne was remembered by later generations as Pater Europae, ‘Father of Europe’. The mighty Frankish king (and, later, Holy Roman Emperor) was a great military leader, empire-builder and politician. He also had a sharp eye for talent. And, in 781, that eye alighted on an Anglo-Saxon scholar called Alcuin. Alcuin was probably born in the 730s at Spurn Head, where biting winds gust across the Humber. By the 770s, he was in York, overseeing the finest library of its time. It was this that drew him to Charlemagne’s attention, and led to a meeting between the two men in the Italian city of Parma. Anxious to recruit the best scholars in Europe, Charlemagne headhunted Alcuin to run his palace school, and to steer the most ambitious cultural project of the early Middle Ages: the Carolingian Renaissance. Edmund Ironside: Anglo-Saxon warrior king In the archbishop’s library at Lambeth is a copy of Alcuin’s letters to Charlemagne with his own thoughts on the ruler’s grand design, his ideas on Christian kingship, and his dream of a united European civilisation. In doing so, he helped promote a flowering of literature, art and religious study across western Europe. This alone makes Alcuin one of the most important people in the west in the thousand years between the classical world and the Italian Renaissance. They gave us the greatest of all Britons “Without wisdom, nothing can be done to any purpose.” So wrote the most celebrated of all Anglo-Saxon monarchs, Alfred the Great. As Alcuin’s exploits in the eighth century demonstrate, the acquisition of knowledge was central to the Anglo-Saxon tradition. But by the time Alfred became ruler of the kingdom of Wessex in 871, that thirst for wisdom had been forced to play second fiddle to a quest for survival in the face of a Viking onslaught. Viking raids on the British Isles began in the eighth century, growing in frequency until the sack of the monasteries of Lindisfarne and Jarrow in 793–94. Then armies began to stay over winter. And finally, in the 870s, in the ominous words of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, “they divided the land, settled down and began to plough”. The royal families of the East Angles and Northumbrians ended. Mercia was partitioned. Wessex, ‘the Last Kingdom’, stood alone. Alfred’s victories over the Vikings saved England and left him ‘King of the Anglo-Saxons’ – in other words, of the Mercians and West Saxons together. But no less important was his project to restore learning and education: “To translate into English the books most needful for men to know.” For inspiration, Alfred turned to the Carolingian Renaissance and the idea that Christian kings should be patrons of learning. He gathered scholars from Wales, Germany and France. Working in a kind of seminar, as Alfred himself put it, they worried away at a text “word by word and idea by idea” till an English version could be written down, copied out and disseminated. “It was a time,” Alfred said, “when everything was ruined and burned.” But Alfred planned for our future, all the same. That’s why, for me, he remains the greatest Briton. They fashioned our legal system Travelling south-west on the A303 through Hampshire takes you within a few miles of the village of Grateley. Most motorists drive past the turn off to the village without giving it a moment’s thought. Yet if they were to take a left here, they’d find themselves approaching one of the most significant sites in early English history. For, as the sign outside St Leonard’s Church in the heart of the village tells us, it was in Grateley that “the first code of law for all England was enacted… in 928 by King Æthelstan”. AD 928 marks the moment when the English state was created – not only establishing a framework for the nation’s law and assembly politics but also paving the way for the later English parliament. It’s a story revealed in the Textus Roffensis (also known as the Rochester Codex), England’s greatest law book and, for me, an even more important text than Magna Carta. The Codex contains the earliest written English – in Kentish laws from c600 – and later codes include records of meetings in which Alfred’s grandson Æthelstan consults with his council over crime and punishment, law and order. Æthelstan’s short reign was hugely ambitious, often overly so. But in a six-year burst of innovation between 928 and 933, he turned the England of which Alfred had dreamed into a reality. Two centuries on, public opinion declared that “no one more just or learned ever administered the state”. They preached in the language of the people It is hard to overstate the role of the vernacular Bible in English identity: from the Lollards (who, from the 14th century, campaigned for the translation of the Bible into English), to the Protestant Reformation to the Civil War. Think of William Tyndale, who translated the Bible into English in the 16th century, and the King James Bible; think of Bible readers like Shakespeare, Milton and Blake. But how many of us know that the first English gospels were Anglo-Saxon? And we still speak many of the same words today. The Lord’s Prayer – “Faeder ure thu the eart on heofonum” – is recognisably English. Some manuscripts are marked up for reading out loud, so their words must have been known to English people long before Wycliffe. Later tradition states that it was Æthelstan who commissioned the translation of the gospels in English (an example of which will be on display in the British Library exhibition) and a recent find of manuscript fragments from the 10th century suggests that date could be right. Either way, there’s little doubt that these translations are a root text of English culture. They wrote brilliant histories It was said in the 980s that England was a land of “many different races, languages, customs and costumes”. The achievement of the kings from Æthelstan to Edgar (who ruled England from 959–75) was to create an allegiance to the monarch and his law. But with lesser rulers cohesion crumbled, and disaster struck under Æthelred the Unready. His 37-year reign saw the return of the Vikings, the defeat of the English, and the establishment in 1016 of a Danish kingdom of England under King Cnut. This story is told in one of our greatest historical narratives, the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. In its earlier years, the Chronicle was a laconic, impersonal record of the times, but in the first decade of the 11th century it came into its own, courtesy of a brilliant account written by a nameless London chronicler. Tragic, ironic, scathing, with poignant eyewitness detail, it is the birth of narrative history in English. Æthelred’s reign also marked the beginning of ties with a future nemesis from across the English Channel. In 1002, the king married Emma of Normandy, one of the most remarkable women in our history. Elizabeth I and Victoria may be more celebrated, but in terms of drama, Emma’s 50-year reign leaves them in her wake: only Matilda can compare. Her story is told in the first biography of a woman in our history, In Praise of Queen Emma, which lifts the veil on 11th-century dynastic politics. Emma later married Cnut, and her Danish and English sons became kings. This was a time when the Danish kings of England ruled Denmark and parts of Norway and Sweden too: a North Sea empire, and a very different alignment for English history. But when Emma’s childless son, Edward the Confessor, died in 1066, waiting in the wings was a giant of English history, William of Normandy. They shaped the England we know today William the Conqueror’s victory over the English at Hastings on 14 October 1066 was a shattering blow that ended half a millennium of Anglo-Saxon England. The ruling class was systematically removed: of 1,400 chief tenants in place on the eve of William’s invasion, only two were left in 1086. This was a time of massive change, and the Conquest was long remembered as a “a bitter wound for our dear country”. The Conquest was recorded in the most famous text in British history: Domesday Book (which is on display in the British Library exhibition). Domesday Book even tells us how it felt for a former freeman, Aelfric of Marsh Gibbon in Buckinghamshire, to farm what had been his own land before 1066, but was now leased from a Norman, “miserably, and with a heavy heart”. Listen | Susan Oosthuizen explains why we should be reassessing what we think about the Anglo-Saxons Domesday Book is so important because it gives us a statistical portrait of the England bequeathed us by the Anglo-Saxons, with its structures of local government, its shires and hundreds, towns and villages (13,418 of them!). But at the heart of the book are the people themselves. So let’s end with the story of a Domesday farming family, from Cockerington in the Lincolnshire Wolds, who were descended from the old class of Anglo-Danish freemen. A century after Hastings, their great-granddaughter Christiana married a Norman, marking the process by which the conquered and the conquerors made peace. But the English never forgot 1066. Nor of course did the Welsh and, later, the Irish (the centuries-long assault on their culture began with an Anglo-Norman invasion in the 1170s). The Normans bequeathed wounds yet to heal. Even in the 21st century, we are trying to negotiate the legacy of these events: in Scottish and Welsh independence movements, and in the Irish border question. As the historian Eric John wrote in the 20th century: “It was the Anglo-Saxons who made England, the Normans who attempted to make Great Britain. And as yet they have not succeeded so well.” Michael Wood is a historian, whose books include In Search of the Dark Ages (BBC Books, 2005) This article was first published in the November 2018 edition of BBC History Magazine
Off the Northumberland coast rises a lonely islet which over the years has played host to religious renunciates, Viking raids and the birth of priceless artistic treasures. Julian Humphrys makes the pilgrimage
Getting on to Holy Island feels like an adventure. Unless you’re planning to arrive by boat, you can either walk or drive across a long causeway or tramp across the sands, following a line of wooden poles – a route taken by countless visitors and pilgrims over the centuries. Whichever you choose, check the tide tables to see when it’s safe to cross. Both routes are completely submerged at high tide, when the water rushes in at an alarming rate. Although the village can become quite crowded with visitors, the rest of the island still retains the sense of isolation that led St Aidan to establish a monastery here in AD 635 after being invited to Northumbria by King Oswald to convert his subjects to Christianity. His successor, St Cuthbert, served first as prior and later as bishop on Holy Island, but also spent years as a hermit on the nearby Farne Islands, dying there in AD 687. For most of the eighth century, the monastery thrived as a centre of culture, producing among other treasures the sumptuously illuminated Lindisfarne Gospels; a digitised version can be seen in the island’s heritage centre. But all this would change in AD 793, when the Vikings launched the first in a series of destructive raids on the monastery. By AD 875, the monks had had enough. They moved away, taking Cuthbert’s body with them, and eventually settled in Durham. Even so, the links with Lindisfarne were too strong to forget, and in 1120 monks from Durham Cathedral were sent to build a new priory on the island – complete with a shrine to St Cuthbert. Although that priory is now largely ruined, the Romanesque west entrance of its church is an impressive sight, while the survival of the ‘rainbow arch’, a single vault beneath the long-vanished tower, seems miraculous. Note the battlements and crossbow loops – a reminder that living so near to the Scottish border in the Middle Ages had its risks. The high ground overlooking the priory is known as the Heugh. Recent archaeological investigations have revealed the existence of an Anglo-Saxon church there, and it’s an excellent point from which to spot seabirds and seals, and to enjoy views of Bamburgh Castle on the mainland and the Farne Islands out to sea. The much-photographed Lindisfarne Castle isn’t really a castle at all. It started life in the 16th century as a gun fort, built to defend the island’s sheltered harbour. It lost its military importance following the union of the crowns of England and Scotland, and by the reign of Charles I visitors seemed less interested in its military value than in famously enormous nose of the garrison commander, a Captain Rugg. In 1901, Country Life editor Edward Hudson bought the crumbling edifice and commissioned the architect Edwin Lutyens to transform it into a holiday home. It's a steep climb to the castle entrance but worth it for the views alone. The National Trust has recently completed a major restoration of the castle, and its rooms currently house an exhibition telling some of the quirkier stories from its history. Don't miss the nearby walled garden created by Gertrude Jekyll, or the 19th-century lime kilns with their medieval-looking arches. Julian Humphrys is a historian and author specialising in battlefields. His books include Enemies at the Gates (English Heritage, 2007). This article was first published in the August 2019 edition of BBC History Magazine
Your guide to the Viking raid of Lindisfarne in AD 793
An attack on a small religious community in Northumbria in AD 793 heralded the start of the Viking Age of conquest and expansion. Find out more with BBC History Revealed
On 8 June AD 793, the peaceful and remote monastic community of Lindisfarne Priory suffered a surprise Viking raid. It wasn’t to be a one-off, but proved just the beginning of a period of conquest and expansion by the Scandinavian warriors. Known as Holy Island, Lindisfarne is a tidal island off the coast of Northumberland. A monastery was founded here in AD 634 by Saint Aidan at the request of King Oswald of Northumbria. It became a renowned base for Christianity in the north of England and attracted monks from communities such as Iona. The beautiful illuminated manuscripts known as The Lindisfarne Gospels were created here, and the remains of St Cuthbert were buried within. Monasteries were often established on islands to keep them away from the political interference of the mainland and give the community a sense of isolation. This, though, made them incredibly vulnerable. As well as being undefended, the priory at Lindisfarne was full of valuable treasures used in religious ceremonies and so proved to be a fortunate choice for the raiders, showing them what wealth could be found across the sea. A brief history of the Vikings The Holy Island of Lindisfarne Global Vikings: how the impact of the raiders and traders went far beyond Britain The Vikings - who until now had not ventured far beyond their homes in Scandinavia – looted all the relics they could find and brutally murdered monks living on the island. It was such an unexpected attack that the inhabitants had no time to prepare a defence or call for aid from the mainland. The assault sent shock waves across the Christian world. Lindisfarne was described by Alcuin of York, a scholar at the court of Charlemagne, as the most ‘venerable’ site in all of Britain. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle recorded: “Heathen men made lamentable havoc in the church of God in Holy-island, by rapine and slaughter.” Listen | Thomas Williams offers a fresh take on several centuries of Viking invasions and rule in Britain Alcuin wrote an account of the attack: “Never before has such terror appeared in Britain as we have now suffered from a pagan race… The heathens poured out the blood of saints around the altar, and trampled on the bodies of saints in the temple of God, like dung in the streets.” Though this wasn’t the first Viking raid on Britain – one of the king’s officials had been killed by marauding Vikings in Wessex a few years previously – it was the first one to make such an impact across Europe, showing that these pagan warriors were a dangerous threat. Lindisfarne was eventually abandoned, until the late 11th century when a Norman priory was built. Following their invasion of the island, the Vikings conquered much of the north of England and incorporated it into the Danelaw – the name given to the Viking-conquered regions of Anglo- Saxon England. This article first appeared in the June 2019 issue of BBC History Revealed More content from week one of the HistoryExtra Academy Vikings course: Viking raiders, with Professor Ryan Lavelle – watch time 18 mins Fighting the Vikings – read time 13 mins History explorer: Alfred and the Vikings – read time 13 mins The great Viking terror: how Norse warriors conquered the Anglo-Saxons – read time 12 mins Slaves in the Viking Age: how prevalent were enslaved people in Viking societies – read time 3 mins Why did the Vikings' violent raids begin? – read time 12 mins Viking ships: 5 lesser-known facts – read time 6 mins
The Lindisfarne Gospels, a magnificent book created by the community of St Cuthbert on Lindisfarne in the 8th century, is now on display at Durham University.
About the images The Lindisfarne Gospels, created by the community of St Cuthbert on Lindisfarne in the 8th century and regarded as one of the finest examples of medieval creativity and craftsmanship, is now on display at Durham University, giving visitors the chance to see examples of the magnificent figural painting and the intricate insular ornament for which the book is so renowned. To safeguard the book, each of its pages can be opened for no longer than three months, once every five years: the first opening will be two pages of beautiful and intricately designed canon tables; the second will feature the detailed decorated word panel at the beginning of one of the prefaces to the text and a page featuring one of the famous Evangelist portraits. The St Cuthbert Gospel, Europe’s oldest surviving bound book, and some of Britain’s most significant and precious Anglo-Saxons artefacts and medieval manuscripts, will on display alongside the Lindisfarne Gospels. Lindisfarne Gospels Durham is on show at Durham University's Palace Green Library until 30 September 2013. For more information, visit www.lindisfarnegospels.com