A Battle, a Poem and an Island in the Marshes

The Battle of Maldon: Ealdorman Byrhtnoth

Autumn and winter on the Essex coast....this is my favourite time of year to come here. There can be a special atmosphere then; big skies with a low sun, calling winter geese, dozens of waders squabbling along the shoreline. And as the little creeks feel so remote and unchanged, there's a sense of history here, too.  It's easy to imagine old sailing boats and smugglers...

And battles. When I came here a few days ago with an old friend of mine, we visited Northey Island, site of the Battle of Maldon. The battle took place in August 991 between the defending Saxons and the invading Vikings.  The battle is known about today because it was written about in a poem not long afterwards - and most of this poem still survives.

We reached Northey Island by walking from the town of Maldon along a footpath.  It was a lovely, sunny day and surprisingly Maldon wasn't that busy. Often, when the sun comes out, the quay can become a bit crowded, but on this day there were just a few people wandering around looking at the Thames Barges...

It was no surprise, though, that we were the only ones taking the footpath away from the town, because it was all mud. I think everyone else had more sense! But it doesn't take long to reach Northey Island, which is owned by the National Trust. It's quite small and it appears that the only residents are the wardens and different birds...

The island can be reached by boat or across a causeway at low tide. And it was on this causeway that the battle was supposed to take place.

The Battle of Maldon

So what happened? The Vikings had arrived from across the North Sea and made camp on the island.
The Saxons, alerted to this new danger, left their settlements...

And flocked to their leader, Ealdorman Byrhtnoth (he's the statue, above). Byrhtnoth was supposed to be taller than average and an old warrior (perhaps in his sixties).  He probably faced Sweyn Forkbeard, son of Harald Bluetooth (such fabulous names) as leader of the Vikings.

The Vikings demanded tribute, but Byrhtnoth was having none of this, and defied them. Then the rising tide intervenes. When it eventually recedes, the Saxons had blocked the causeway...

Causeway onto Northey Island

So the Vikings (using guile, according to the poem) negotiate to come across for a real battle. Byrhtnoth's fatal mistake is that he agrees to this, and he is then killed during the fighting. Some of his army flees, but several thegns, loyal to their lord, make a courageous last stand around his body.

The Saxon warriors' defeat is regarded as glorious. The Vikings are deceivers; Byrhtnoth's thegns are heroes. And a story was born, to be told in the mead halls...

I've been thinking about this poem over the past few days. When I attended the Remembrance Service at our village war memorial on Sunday, the war poems that came to mind were those of the Great War poets, who wrote that war isn't glorious at all.  I imagine that no one writes death or glory poems about current conflicts, do they? We think of war in a different way today.

Sorry that these reflections are all a bit heavy, but this time of year, around Remembrance Sunday and 11th November makes you think, doesn't it?

Anyway - here is more of Northey Island and nearby coast in autumn, 2013; a very peaceful place once more...

And worth a visit, to hear the echoes of the past.