THE BATTLE OF MALDON: A MEDIEVAL SCREENPLAY History and Heroism in the Cinematic Adaptation of an Old English Poem
A Thesis Submitted to the Committee on Graduate Studies in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree of Master of Arts in the Faculty of Arts and Science
TRENT UNIVERSITY
Peterborough, Ontario, Canada
(c) Copyright Sarah Elizabeth Miller 2013
English (Public Texts) M.A. Graduate Program
September 2013 ABSTRACT
The Battle of Maldon: A Medieval Screenplay History and Heroism in the Cinematic Adaptation of an Old English Poem
Sarah Elizabeth Miller
The Battle of Maldon is an artistic representation of a historical event whose style lends itself to being adapted into a screenplay. This project examines how the poem presents a recent event in an epic heroic style, mixing history with legend, and how the heroism of the men in the poem is celebrated.
These explorations lead to the creation of a screenplay which imitates the ways that the poet combines fact and fiction and situates the screenplay within the larger realm of medieval film.
Keywords: The Battle of Maldon, Maldon, Byrhtnoth, Anglo-Saxon history, heroism, medieval film, screenplay, Anglo-Saxon poetry, Old English
ii ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Foremost, I would like to express my deepest gratitude to my supervisor, Professor Sarah
Larratt Keefer, without whose encouragement, enthusiasm, and patience this project would not have been possible. She pushed me when I needed to be pushed, and believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself, and inspired me to go further in my studies than I imagined I could. I will always be grateful.
I would also like to thank the members of my committee, Professors Sally Chivers and Sarah
Higley, who helped me with those parts of my thesis with which I was least comfortable and provided invaluable insight and recommendations for improving the focus and quality of my thesis.
My thanks also extend to the Public Texts program at Trent University and its Directors,
Professors Zailig Pollock and Michael Epp, whose patience and understanding surpassed what might be expected of any department. I could not have found a more welcoming and considerate program to attend.
I would like to thank Professor Margaret Steffler for her guidance as Chair of the English
Department, and Professor Beth Popham for the opportunity to work on an engaging project in the final year of my degree.
Finally, I would like to thank my parents for their unending support. Scrabble games with my dad refreshed my mind, and his creative insights were instrumental in the creation of my screenplay. I hope to be able to return the favour someday.
iii TABLE OF CONTENTS Page
Abstract ii Acknowledgements iii Table of contents iv
Introduction: History Memorialized 1
1 The Battle of Maldon: A Medieval Screenplay 3
2 History and The Battle of Maldon 40
3 Heroism in The Battle of Maldon 62 Sources of Heroism 62 Definitions of Heroism 65 Ofermod and the Flawed Hero 70 Byrhtnoth’s Heroism 79 The Heroism of the Loyal Retainers 82
4 Representing the Middle Ages on Film 90 Definitions of Medieval Film 92 Visual Authenticity 99 Other Methods of Authenticity 108
5 Conclusion: History Recovered 122
Bibliography 124
iv 1
Introduction: History Memorialized
The Battle of Maldon is a very straightforward poem. Rather than delving into the inner minds of its characters or constructing a complicated narrative made up of stories within stories and references to ancient heroes, the poem concisely relates what happened on August 10th or 11th, 991
A.D., on the shores of Maldon in ‘Englalond.’ The action of the poem is simply and vividly described, interspersed with lucid yet expressive dialogue. The style and the literary tropes used in the poem would have been clearly recognizable to an Anglo-Saxon audience, and the men named in the poem were likely well-known to those who first read and heard the verses. It should, therefore, have been an equally straightforward task to transform the action sequences from the poem into scene directions, and to translate the dialogue into Modern English for a twenty-first century audience, creating an entertaining and thoughtful medieval film, which was my goal. However, any delusions of simplicity quickly evaporated.
Although the fragmentary poem recounts the events of a single battle in chronological order, from the Vikings’ arrival on the shores of England to the agonizingly obvious defeat-in-the-making of the Anglo-Saxons, it is not an entry in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, let alone a historical record in a form that we would recognize today. The Battle of Maldon commemorates a historical event, but includes details which would almost certainly have been impossible for the poet to know, and it situates these details within a heroic poetic style which likens the heroes of Maldon to the legendary warriors of old. All historical records are written by someone with an agenda in mind, whether that be to preserve as objective an account as possible of an important event, or to sway the opinions of the public to achieve a political end. The heroic style of The Battle of Maldon implies that it was written as a 2 positive memorialization of the men who, we are told, gave their lives in the battle, and perhaps in order to boost the morale of the Anglo-Saxon people in the face of an increasing number of Viking raids. In spite of the Anglo-Saxon defeat at the battle, the poem brings a visceral sense of hope to its audience through high speech and the belief in the existence of contemporary heroes, in the same way that modern war films transform a military disaster into a showcase of heroic bravery for a general audience by concentrating on individuals. A mere retelling of the events which could be verified might paint a sombre and hopeless image of impotence against the Viking raiders, and would nonetheless be lacking in details essential to a fuller understanding of the battle. My goal then expanded beyond the simple creation of a responsible and entertaining (imagined) film, and grew to include creating an impression of the uncertainty of historical records of all kinds. Thus my aims were somewhat contradictory: I still wanted to try as much as possible to present a depiction of tenth-century Anglo-
Saxon England with as few modern anachronisms as possible, but I also wanted to preserve the historical ambiguity of the poem. My project became an exploration of some of the ways that history is recorded and memorialized, and the ways in which people relate to those histories; my screenplay became an exercise in the preservation of an uncertainty which should lead to a constant reevaluation of our assumptions about the past. 3
The Battle of Maldon: A Medieval Screenplay
1 EXT. MONASTIC COMMUNITY AT ELY1 - DAY 1
EXTREME LONG ESTABLISHING SHOT depicting a tenth century monastic community in the dead of winter. It is late afternoon, and the light is dull and grey with blue tones,2 filtered through an overcast sky.
2 EXT. OUTSIDE THE CATHEDRAL AT ELY - DAY 2
ÆLFFLÆD,3 a serious, middle-aged woman in fancy clothes, approaches the cathedral with two attending servants who are carefully carrying a rolled up piece of cloth. At the door they are greeted by an old, obviously high-ranking MONK, the Abbot of the monastic community at Ely.
MONK Welcome, Ælfflæd. We hope that you are well, in spite of your loss, which is also our loss.
ÆLFFLÆD Thank you. The tapestry4 is ready, and I believe you will be happy with the outcome.
They enter the cathedral and the servants carefully unroll the tapestry, which is similar in style to the Bayeux Tapestry. CAMERA ZOOMS IN until the tapestry fills the 1 Byrhtnoth and Ælfflæd were great patrons of Ely Abbey, making several generous bequests during their lifetimes and in their wills. 2 In order to distinguish between flashback scenes and battle scenes, I have assigned different colour tones to each: the flashbacks are set in the winter and have cool grey/blue overtones; the battle scenes take place on a bright, sunny, late summer day, and have warm, golden overtones. 3 Younger daughter of the wealthy Ealdorman Ælfgar, Ælfflæd married Byrhtnoth some time before 951, and through her Byrhtnoth inherited many landholdings. She and Byrhtnoth had no children, but Byrhtnoth had a daughter, Leofflæd, who was most likely born after Byrhtnoth’s marriage to Ælfflæd, making her illegitimate. Ælfflæd’s will dates from around 1002. For more information about Ælfflæd and the rest of Byrhtnoth’s family, see Margaret A.L. Locherbie- Cameron, “Byrhtnoth and His Family,” 253-262; and Pauline Stafford, “Kinship and Women in the World of Maldon: Byrhtnoth and his Family,” 225-235. 4 In the Liber Eliensis, a textile of some sort depicting Byrhtnoth’s deeds is mentioned among the gifts given to Ely by Ælfflæd. It no longer survives, but I imagine the ‘tapestry’ resembling in style the Bayeux Tapestry (which is actually an embroidery). The account of Ælfflæd’s gifts reads: Uxor quippe eius, nomine Ælfleda domina, eo tempore, quo vir idem suus interfectus est et humatus ... et torquem auream et cortinam gestis viri sui intextan atque depictam in memoriam probitatis eius huic donavit [Indeed his wife, Lady Ælfled by name, at the time at which her husband was killed and buried, gave to this church in memory of his probity (certain estates in Essex and Cambridgeshire), and a gold necklace (or ring) and a hanging embroidered (or woven) and figured (or painted or embroidered) with the deeds of her husband]. For further information about the possible appearance of the textile, see Mildred Budny, “The Byrhtnoth Tapestry or Embroidery,” 263-278. 4
screen, and the opening credits begin to run. Several scenes from Byrhtnoth's life are depicted: hosting feasts, riding, hunting, praying, etc.
After the credits are finished, the CAMERA pans to the next scene on the tapestry, which depicts the following:
SCOP (V.O.) In the ninth century, southern England was cursed with a flood of Viking raids from across the sea and from its own northern shores, which had been settled by the seafaring foes.
As the SCOP speaks, the images on the tapestry are subtly animated: waves move, ships gently roll, etc.
SCOP (V.O.) Alfred the Great of Wessex became king in 871 and over the next thirty years he put an end to these raids by buying off the Vikings and building up his ship army.
Tapestry depicts Alfred the Great defeating the Vikings and increasing the size of his navy.
SCOP (V.O.) After fifty years of freedom from attack by heathen armies, in the 980s England again began to undergo Viking raids along its southern shores.5
The tapestry depicts Viking ships docked close to an island, on the shores of which the Viking army is gathered. The island is separated from the mainland by a narrow causeway, and an Anglo-Saxon army is gathered on the shore opposite the Vikings.6
At the edge of the army, a young man is looking at the
5 For more information regarding the historical and political context of the 991 battle at Maldon, see Simon Keynes, “The Historical Context of the Battle of Maldon,” 81-113; James Campbell, “England c. 991,” 1-17; and Cyril Hart, “Essex in the Late Tenth Century,” 171- 204. 6 The most likely candidate for the site of the battle is the causeway between Northey Island and the Maldon mainland. It still exists today, and in 1973 George and Susan Petty did a geological reconstruction of what the setting might have looked like in 991. Although a distance of over 240 yards separates the mainland from the island today, and the banks are too broken and muddy to accommodate a small army, the Pettys found that a thousand years ago the distance separating the two armies was 120 yards, and the banks were dry and grassy and perfectly capable of supporting two armies. For a detailed account of the method and findings of their analysis, see George and Susan Petty, “A Geological Reconstruction of the Site of The Battle of Maldon,” 159-169, and G. and S. Petty, “Geology and The Battle of Maldon,” Speculum 51.3 (1976), 435-446. See also John McN. Dodgson, “The Site of The Battle of Maldon,” 170-179. 5
hunting hawk perched on his hand.7 This is the last image on the tapestry, and it morphs into a live action shot.
3 EXT. SITE OF THE BATTLE - AT SUNRISE 3
(SUBTITLE) Maldon - August 10th, 991.8
It is late summer, and the sun is just beginning to rise, starting to bathe the scene in a warm early morning light. The sky is clear.
SCOP (V.O.) ...brocen wurde. Het þa hyssa hwæne hors forlætan, feor afysan and forð gangan, hicgan to handum and to hige godum. þa þæt Offan mæg ærest onfunde, þæt se eorl nolde yrhðo geþolian, he let him þa of handon eofne fleogan hafoc wið þæs holtes, and to þære hilde stop; be þam man mihte oncnawan þæt se cniht nolde wacian æt þam wige, þa he to wæpnum feng. Eac him wolde Eadric his ealdre gelæstan, frean to gefeohte, ongan þa forð beran gar to guþe. He hæfde god geþanc þa hwile þe he mid handum healdan mihte bord and bradswurd; beot he gelæste þa he ætforan his frean feohtan sceolde.9 (V.O. Continues until Byrhtnoth begins to speak)
MEDIUM CLOSE-UP of OFFA'S KINSMAN holding a HUNTING HAWK. He is a young, aristocratic man whose well-made leather clothing displays his higher rank. He shows affection to his beloved hunting hawk, then releases it with a determined look on his 7 By the late tenth century, hunting with hawks and falcons had been a royal and high-class pastime in England for at least three hundred years, and it was not unusual for kings (and by extension, perhaps, noblemen) to take their birds of prey to war. For more information, see Gail Owen-Crocker, “Hawks and Horse-Trappings,” 220-237. 8 Byrhtnoth’s obituaries list his death as on either August 10th or August 11th of 991. See Alan Kennedy, “Byrhtnoth’s Obits and Twelfth-Century Accounts of the Battle of Maldon,” 59-78. 9 “...was broken. / Then he commanded each of the warriors to let go of his horse, / to urge it far away and to go forth on foot, / to think of hands and of good mind. / When Offa’s kinsman first perceived / that the earl would not endure cowardice, / he then from his hands let his beloved fly, / hawk towards the forest, and he stepped to the battle; / By that [act] one could understand that the young man would not / waver in war, when he seized weapons. / Also together with him would Eadric serve his leader, / lord in the fight, he began then to carry forth / spear to battle. He had good thoughts / that as long as he with his hands could wield / shield and sword [he would fight]; he accomplished his vow / that he had made in the presence of his lord that he would fight.” Translation based on “The Battle of Maldon,” in The Battle of Maldon AD 991, ed. Donald Scragg, 18. ll. 1-16. All translations from Old English are my own. I have included here the first sixteen lines of the poem, to be read or sung in Old English as background ‘music’ while the events described are portrayed on film. The recitation should only last until Byrhtnoth begins to speak, and therefore some lines might need to be cut; the same condition regarding length applies to all of the Scop’s Old English voice-overs. 6
face as he picks up his SPEAR, his SWORD and his SHIELD.10 He then drives his HORSE, who is clad in leather trappings, back into the woods.11
CAMERA follows the hawk into the sky, and ZOOMS OUT out to reveal several more hawks joining the first in flight towards a STAND OF WOODS, half a kilometre to the west of the shore.12 Higher in the sky a pair of EAGLES are slowly circling.
EADRIC, a man of some thirty years who is dressed in well made leathers befitting his aristocratic rank, gathers his weapons (SPEAR, BROADSWORD, and SHIELD) and sends his horse away towards the woods. OFFA'S KINSMAN walks up and joins EADRIC.
CAMERA ZOOMS OUT SLIGHTLY to reveal BYRHTNOTH, a man of about sixty years old with a head of thick white hair, riding towards and then past Offa's Kinsman and Eadric. Byrhtnoth is taller than most of the other men on the battlefield, and he rides confidently upright on the back of his horse; his clothes clearly show that he is the man of the highest rank on the field, and his attitude and demeanour are those of a bold and assured leader.13
CAMERA follows Byrhtnoth along the shore as he rides in front of his motley army, which is composed of Anglo-Saxon men of all ranks and ages, with all manner and quality of war-gear and weapons.14 The sun is now just high enough to illuminate
10 For more information on the weaponry describe in the poem, see Nicholas Brooks, “Weapons and Armour,” 208-219. Spears, swords, and shields are the most-often mentioned weapons in The Battle of Maldon; there are no references to axes of any kind. The sword, specifically, is “the aristocratic weapon par excellence in early medieval warfare” (Brooks, 212). 11 Although Anglo-Saxons would ride their horses to battle (if they could afford horses), and would use them for chasing down fleeing enemies, they did not often fight on horseback. For a detailed discussion of the types, sizes, and uses of horses in Anglo-Saxon England, see Sarah Larratt Keefer, “Hwær Cwom Mearh? The Horse in Anglo-Saxon England,” 115-134. 12 Several of the place names around Maldon imply that there used to be lots of woodland, for example Woodham, from the OE wuda-ham [woodland estate/village]. See Dodgson, 175-176. 13 In the poem Byrhtnoth is described as a har hilderinc [grey(-haired) warrior], and although this is an Anglo-Saxon poetic trope, Byrhtnoth would most likely have been over sixty at the time of the battle (Maldon, l.169a). Ælfflæd’s father, Ælfgar, refers to Byrhtnoth as his son-in-law in his will, which was probably written before 951, and Donald Scragg estimates Byrhtnoth’s birth date at around 930. See D.G. Scragg, “Introduction,” The Battle of Maldon, 15. Based on measurements made in 1772 of what are presumably Byrhtnoth’s bones, Marilyn Deegan and Stanley Rubin estimate Byrhtnoth’s height at just over six feet, which, while taller than the average Anglo-Saxon male height of five foot six, is much shorter than the eighteenth-century estimation of six foot nine. I imagine the Byrhtnoth of my screenplay to be somewhat taller than the historical Byrhtnoth, as a visual representation of his legendary heroic status. For an explanation of their method of estimating Byrhtnoth’s height, see Marilyn Deegan and Stanley Rubin, “Byrhtnoth’s Remains: A Reassessment of his Stature,” 289-293. 14 See Richard Abels, “English Tactics, Strategy and Military Organization in the Late Tenth Century,” 143-155. I have chosen to include some examples of ill-prepared peasants in the general fyrd, which would have been made up of a certain number of ‘soldiers’ for every few hides of land. However, Abels argues that this would not likely have been the case in tenth-century England. Although there would have been a distinction between the fyrd and the heorðwerod, the troops making up the fyrd “were mounted, select forces,” even those of lower rank (Abels, 146). 7
the men on the shore, who are facing towards the east.15
BYRHTNOTH Make the shield-wall!16 Hold fast, fists strong on your shields; do not break the line! Do not fear these heathen foes, for we are ready for greatness!17
Byrhtnoth halts when he reaches his hearth-troop, his most trusted warriors, who are gathered together at the bridgehead, which is only visible for a few feet before it disappears under water.18 To the left is a DEAD TREE which is all but submerged in water.
The hearth-troop is a somewhat large group, including OFFA and BYRHTWOLD, both men of over sixty years who are fit and chiseled; ÆTHELRIC, LEOFSUNU, and WISTAN, men in their mid twenties; EDWARD BURTHEGN and WULFMÆR, men in their late thirties; WULFSTAN, ÆLFHERE, and MACCUS, also men in their thirties; WULFMÆR THE YOUNGER and ÆLFNOTH, men in their thirties; GODRIC, GODWINE, and GODWIG, young men in their early twenties; DUNNERE, ÆSCFERTH and EDWARD THE TALL, all young men; ÆLFWINE, OSWOLD, EADWOLD, and GODRIC 2, men in their mid-thirties.19
MEDIUM SHOT: BYRHTNOTH'S POV: CAMERA pans to show all the members of Byrhtnoth's hearth-troop greeting him with solemn looks. OFFA and BYRHTWOLD, who are both men of around sixty years of age, nod to Byrhtnoth.
4 EXT. SITE OF THE BATTLE - AT SUNRISE 4
MEDIUM CLOSE UP: Byrhtnoth, still on horseback, turns to look out across the causeway. As he does so, half of his face falls into shadow. 15 On August 10th, 2013, sunrise in Maldon is at 5:36am; the first high tide is at 3:30am, and the following low tide at 9:20am. I have chosen to use these hours as the template for my screenplay; thus if Byrhtnoth and his troops arrive on shore just after sunrise, they will have to wait approximately four hours for low tide before the vikings can begin crossing, and I imagine the battle coming to an end around noon. http://www.tides4fishing.com/uk/england/maldon 16 Although the shield-wall is an Anglo-Saxon poetic motif, Abels argues that it is based in fact, for it is mentioned in various sources from the ninth to the twelfth centuries, as well as being depicted in the Bayeux Tapestry (though the Bayeux soldiers’ kite shields would not have been effective in this formation). The larger Germanic round shields used at Maldon would have made for an impressive defensive strategy, with men who fall at the front of the line quickly being replaced (Abels, 149). 17 Most Vikings were still pagan at the time of the battle of Maldon, but their leaders had already begun to convert to Christianity. Like the Maldon poet, I have chosen to portray the vikings as an undifferentiated group, save for the Messenger and the Commander, who nonetheless remain nameless. For more information on the viking side of the story, see Niels Lund, “The Danish Perspective,” 114-142; and Lund, “Danish Military Organisation,” 109-126.. 18 The Pettys estimate that the causeway would have been covered by more than six feet of water (“Geology and The Battle of Maldon,” 445). 19 For more information on the possible historical identities of Byrhtnoth’s hearth-troops, see Margaret A.L. Locherbie- Cameron, “The Men Named in the Poem,” 238-249. 8
LONG SHOT: BYRHTNOTH'S POV: Silhouetted in the distance are several Viking ships, and the Viking warriors gathered on the other side of the river are backlit, so that they appear as an ominous, shadowy mass.20
A VIKING COMMANDER and a VIKING MESSENGER step forwards towards the river, and are just barely distinguishable from the dark army behind them. Beyond the Viking army, the island is green and lush.
MEDIUM SHOT: A VIKING MESSENGER steps towards the bridgehead on the other side of the causeway. He yells across the water, speaking English with a strong Danish accent:
VIKING MESSENGER Bold sømænd sent me to you, and bid me to say that you must quickly send guld rings for grið. It would be better for you to buy off this storm of spears with gifts, than to share in bitter battle. We do not need to spill each others' blood if you are rich enough; we want to lock down a truce with guld. If the richest among you want to free your folk from harm, to give to us sømænd what we want, and with that guld buy friendship from us, then we will take that gift and go to our ships, and we will set out to sea and hold our frið with you.21
MEDIUM SHOT: Byrhtnoth raises his shield and shakes his spear, and his actions are imitated by every warrior on the Anglo-Saxon side of the river.
CAMERA ZOOMS OUT to show the entire Anglo-Saxon army engaged in a raucous WAR-CRY. The cheers are deafening, and the warriors' faces are contorted in a mixture of bravery and anger at the audacity of the Vikings' request.
MEDIUM SHOT: MACCUS, WULFSTAN, and ÆLFHERE are banging their spears on their well-made shields, and yelling insults at the Vikings. They are well-dressed, clearly of high rank, and in their thirties.
20 Dodgson points out that “[a] large fleet of ships beached on [Northey Island] would have been clearly visible from the town” (Note to Plate 9.2, “The Site of the Battle,” 176). 21 I have included several Danish and Old English words in the viking messenger’s speech in order to accentuate his foreignness (Danish: sømænd [seamen], guld [gold]; OE: grið [truce, peace, guarantee of safety], frið [peace, security]). This is both for effect and in imitation of the style employed by the Maldon poet in the viking speeches, which Fred Robinson describes as “the first literary use of dialect in English” (Fred C. Robinson, “Some Aspects of the Maldon Poet’s Artistry,” 26). 9
MEDIUM SHOT: Three YOUNG MEN, dressed in torn and tatty leather and roughly woven cloth britches and shirts, are brandishing SPEARS with unevenly hammered tips. They are also yelling insults at the Vikings.
MEDIUM SHOT: An OLD MAN and a TEENAGE BOY, also dressed in tatty leather and cloth, look startled at the sudden loud cheering and uncertain of their place in the army. The boy is holding a spear, but the old man has only a dull wood-axe as a weapon.
MEDIUM CLOSE-UP: Byrhtnoth looks over his army and raises his hand.
LONG SHOT: WEAPONS are lowered and the CHEERS AND JEERS die down.
MEDIUM CLOSE-UP:
BYRHTNOTH Sailor, do you hear what these men say?
LONG SHOT: Byrhtnoth gestures to his army, and the troops respond with a renewal of yelling and shaking of weapons of all kinds. Byrhtnoth silences them again by raising his hand.
MEDIUM CLOSE-UP as Byrhtnoth begins to speak again:
BYRHTNOTH (CONT'D) They wish to give you spears for gifts, deadly points and old swords, war-gear which will be no use for you in fight. Speaker for the seamen, give these words in return! Tell your people a tale they don't want to hear: here stands a bold earl with his troops who will fight for this homeland, Æthelred's land, land of my lord, folk and ground. Heathens must fall in fight! It seems to me too shameful that you, with our gold, would go to your ships unchallenged, now that you have come so far into our land. You will not easily come by our wealth; point and edge will settle this, grim battle-play, before we would ever give gifts to you.22
22 The battle at Maldon is often seen as the beginning of Æthelred’s system of payment of tribute to the Danes, in part because a payment of ten thousand pounds is mentioned immediately after the battle in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. See pages 41-42 below. 10
Byrhtnoth turns back to face his troops.
BYRHTNOTH (CONT'D) Move up! Make the shield-wall!
LONG SHOT: Byrhtnoth's troops advance to the edge of the river and form a defensive position. Byrhtnoth dismounts and a young boy who was standing with the hearth-troops takes the reins of Byrhtnoth's horse and leads it away from the battle site.
LONG SHOT: Matching the movements of the Anglo-Saxons, the Vikings move up to crowd on the other side of the river. Many of their troops are clad in mail, and there are none who look out of place in a war-band.23
The TIDE is HIGH and neither side can reach the other.
BYRHTNOTH (CONT'D) Bowmen!
VIKING COMMANDER Bueskytten!24
The VIKING COMMANDER, a tall man in armour who is standing beside the VIKING MESSENGER, also signals for his ARCHERS to begin firing. Arrows are loosed from both sides.
ALTERNATING MEDIUM SHOTS of both Anglo-Saxon and Viking archers firing across the water. Most of the arrows fall harmlessly in the water or into shields, but some meet their mark as the sun continues to rise.
MEDIUM CLOSE-UP: An arrow pierces the arm of an Anglo-Saxon soldier.
MEDIUM CLOSE-UP: An arrow flies into the dirt at Wulfmær the Younger’s feet. He picks it up and shoots it back, piercing a Viking through the throat.25
JEERS and TAUNTS continue to be thrown from both sides along with the arrows.
MEDIUM CLOSE-UP of a VIKING loading his bow and loosing an arrow towards the Anglo-Saxons. CAMERA follows the POV of the 23 Brooks points out that the only references to mail or metal armour in the poem describe the vikings: three instances of byrne [byrnie] (ll. 144, 163, 284), and one instance of hringloca [coat of ring-mail] (l. 145). Although I imagined the troops of both armies wearing stereotypical Anglo-Saxon helmets (sans horns on the viking side), there is no mention of helmets in the poem itself, and Brooks indicates that in the records of goods returned to a lord upon a retainer’s death (heriot), there is only one will that includes metal armour in the tenth century. This had changed by the early eleventh century (Brooks, 215-217). 24 Danish: bowmen. 25 The poet writes, forlet forheardne faran eft ongean [(he) let that very hard (spear) go back again] (Maldon, l. 156). If both armies were reusing spears and arrows, the pre-battle could have lasted a very long time (Brooks, 208-209). 11
arrow as it flies across the water and then down towards an ANGLO-SAXON WARRIOR who raises his shield. The SHIELD fills the screen as the arrow rushes towards it, and as it's about to hit...
5 EXT. LONDON - DAY 5
THUD!
CLOSE-UP of the HOOF of a galloping horse as it hits the packed earth ground.26 Zoom out to reveal BYRHTNOTH, ÆTHELRIC, LEOFSUNU, and WISTAN riding on a road which is passing through a bleak winter countryside. CAMERA ZOOMS OUT AND AROUND TO POV of the riders, revealing a city in the distance.
WIDE ESTABLISHING SHOT of tenth century London.
(SUBTITLE) London - January 5th, 991.
CUT TO:
BYRHTNOTH, ÆTHELRIC, LEOFSUNU, and WISTAN arrive on horseback outside a large hall. As they dismount and pass their horses to STABLE BOYS, they are greeted by SIBYRHT and ÆLFHELM POLGA who are arriving at the hall on foot.27
SIBYRHT Greetings, Byrhtnoth! How was your ride?
BYRHTNOTH The weather held, but the reason for the ride made for a gloomy mood.
ÆLFHELM POLGA At least someone will be paying for Wulfbold's thankless deeds, at last.28 26 I chose to include a scene of the men on galloping horses for effect – both visual and auditory – in order to smooth the transition from battle scene to flashback. They would not have been galloping the whole way from Byrhtnoth’s estate to London. 27 Though not present at the battle, Sibyrht is mentioned in the poem as Æthelric’s brother (Maldon, ll. 280-282a). Ælfhelm Polga is not mentioned in the poem, but was possibly a relative of Æthelric, Godric (the good one), and indirectly of Byrhtnoth (Locherbie-Cameron, “The Men Named,” 241). 28 A record of Wulfbold’s crimes is found in MSS Earl of Macclesfield, Shirburn Castle, Liber Abbatiae, 34v – 35v (s. xv). See Sean Miller, Charters of the New Minster, Winchester, 144-157. Misdated 993 in the manuscript, the charter was actually signed in 989 or 990; in the screenplay I have changed the date to January, 991, in order to use it as Byrhtnoth’s 12
BYRHTNOTH His kin are as guilty as Wulfbold himself. They are paying for their own misdeeds as well.
After exchanging brief greetings, the six men enter the hall.
6 INT. LARGE HALL - DAY 6
The light from outside is low, and the hall is lit with candles.
ÆTHELGAR (Archbishop of Canterbury), OSWALD (Archbishop of York), ELFSTAN (Bishop of London), SIGERIC (Bishop of Ramsbury) along with several other bishops, are seated at a table at the head of the hall. There is a crowd of people facing the men seated at the table, including BYRHTNOTH, ÆTHELRIC, LEOFSUNU, WISTAN, SIBYRHT, ÆLFHELM POLGA, all standing together in a group, and several other ealdormen, abbots, and high-ranking men.29 A SPEAKER stands in front of the bishops' table, facing the crowd.
SPEAKER These are the misdeeds that Wulfbold committed against his lord: First, when his father was dead, he went to his stepmother's land, and seized all that he found. Then King Æthelred sent to him, and bade that he should give up what he had stolen. Then he disregarded that command. Then his fine was named by the king, but he would not make amends.30
CAMERA PANS across the bishops seated at the table, solemnly listening to the SPEAKER.
SPEAKER (CONT'D) Moreover, he went to the land of his kinsman Byrhtmer, at Bourne, and took it. Then the king sent to him, and bade him to give up that land. Then he disregarded that decree, and refused to pay his inspiration to hold a feast a mere few months before the battle. For a brief summary of the crimes and the signing of the charter giving all of Wulfbold’s property to the king, see Locherbie-Cameron, “The Men Named,” 240. 29 All of the men named here are listed as witnesses in the charter. See Miller, Charters, 144-157. 30 The Speaker’s dialogue is a shortened version of the charter, translated from the Old English (which appears in the charter concurrent with a Latin text). I deliberately included more borrowed words in the Speaker’s dialogue to imply the Latin in which it was written and the formal occasion on which it was signed. See Miller, Charters, 144-157. 13
fine.
The crowd reacts with disgust, shock, and dismay, at the boldness of Wulfbold's disregard for the king's laws. The crowd's silence ascends into a LOW MURMURING.
SPEAKER (CONT'D) Then ealdormen and monks decreed to the King all Wulfbold's goods and holdings, and he himself, for the King to do away with as he would, whether to life or to death. Then Wulfbold died before submitting to his penance.
Byrhtnoth's companions react stoically and grimly to the reading of the charges, exchanging serious glances with each other, particularly interested in Byrhtnoth's response. Byrhtnoth keeps his GAZE on the SPEAKER and the BISHOPS.
SPEAKER (CONT'D) Beyond all this, after his death, Wulfbold's widow, with her son, went and slew Eadmer, the king's thane, the son of Wulfbold's uncle, and fifteen of his fellows, on the land at Bourne which Wulfbold had stolen. And now you are here in London to witness these charges and the consequences for the treachery of Wulfbold and his kin...31
MEDIUM SHOT: Byrhtnoth's group has heard enough, and begin to discuss amongst themselves in low voices.
As Speaker's voice fades into the background:
BYRHTNOTH Wulfbold's crimes were grim, and even more so in times like these. At the least he and his kin owe a great penance for using the hardships of our land to their own ends.
ÆTHELRIC The Viking threat grows daily, but there are ways to deal with it.
LEOFSUNU It is a threat that has been
31 All of Wulfbold’s property was assigned to the king, and Wulfbold’s fate was also in the hands of the king. Though he died before submitting to his punishment, his property still reverted to the king. There is no mention of the personal fates of his widow and son in the charter. See Miller, Charters, 144-157. 14
overcome before.
BYRHTNOTH We will go to our homes and make ready - we must be sure that the men of our werod are strong and true.32
The bishops and the ealdormen, including Byrhtnoth, all sign the charter of Wulfbold's crimes, as the whole crowd begins to murmur in low voices.33
Byrhtnoth and his group exit by the hall's main doors.
7 EXT. STABLES - DAY 7
There is a crowd of men waiting outside the stables as their horses are prepared for the journey home. The breath of both men and horses can be seen in the cold air.
WISTAN What do you think to do, Byrhtnoth?
BYRHTNOTH It has been a good while since I held a symbel.34 A great feast will strengthen the bonds of the heorðwerod and embolden the fyrd.
Byrhtnoth and his companions mount and ride out of London.
8 EXT. COUNTRYSIDE 8
Byrhtnoth, Æthelric, Leofsunu, and Wistan ride along a primitive road which meanders through fields and largely leaf less forests, occasionally passing through a tiny village or by a distant farmhouse. They ride all day and through the evening, finally arriving home late at night.35 32 Old English: werod [host, army] 33 Byrhtnoth did not actually sign the charter. 34 For an extended discussion of the format and significance of feasts in Anglo-Saxon England, see Stephen Pollington, The Mead Hall: The Feasting Tradition in Anglo-Saxon England. Pollington describes two kinds of feasts in Anglo- Saxon England: “[t]he first of these is the formal, ritualised symbel with its gift-giving and opportunities for performance, speech-making, verse-recital, exchanging praise and honour. Another term designated as a ‘feast’ is gebeorscipe which may be a much less structured, informal event involving drinking, merry-making and conviviality” (Pollington, 31). The feast that occurs later in the screenplay is a combination of the two, starting out as a ritual of oath- taking and gift-giving, then becoming rowdier as the night goes on. 35 Byrhtnoth held over fifty landholdings spread throughout ten modern counties, some of which were in the near vicinity of Maldon, which is approximately forty miles from London. Although it is of questionable historical reliability, the Ramsey Chronicle relates that Ramsey Abbey turned away Byrhtnoth and his troops when they requested food and 15
9 EXT. BYRHTNOTH'S ESTATE 9
Wide establishing shot: The riders arrive at Byrhtnoth's ESTATE. The sky has cleared and the moon is bright, illuminating a large, two-story HALL surrounded by a countryside dotted with a few smaller outbuildings.36
CUT TO:
The men dismount and hand their horses over to a stable-boy before entering Byrhtnoth's hall. The HALL is a long rectangular building constructed of wood. At one end of the hall is the main door; a smaller door can be found at the opposite end of the hall. Running down the centre of the hall is a long hearth, with a low fire burning in it. Four pillars run down the hall on each side of the hearth.37
The men are greeted by a servant woman who is sweeping the floor.
BYRHTNOTH Some food! We have had a long ride.
The men sit at a small table at one end of the hall as the servant leaves to fetch food and mead.
ÆTHELRIC The penalty for Wulfbold's misdeeds, and those of his kin, was right.
LEOFSUNU We cannot abide such untrue deeds, and even more so with the Vikings coming back to raid our land. Folk are beginning to speak of growing scores of Viking wolves who wish to wrack our shores.
BYRHTNOTH We've seen some shifting kingship in past years, and some men felt refreshments on their way to the battle; they consequently ended up eating at Ely. If Byrhtnoth’s main estate was north of Ramsey, it would have been at least seventy miles from London. For the screenplay, I have chosen an unspecified location within a long day’s ride from London as his main estate. For a list of Byrhtnoth’s landholdings, see the appendix to Locherbie-Cameron, “Byrhtnoth and His Family,” 257-260; for the Latin text and English translation of the Ramsey Chronicle, see Kennedy, “Byrhtnoth’s Obits,” 68-70. 36 Pollington argues that “[t]here is good evidence for the building of two-storeyed structures in Anglo-Saxon times,” (The Mead Hall, 87). Byrhtnoth was wealthy enough that he could have afforded a two-storey building; I include this detail in the screenplay as emblematic of his great wealth. 37 See Pollington, The Mead Hall, 66-67, for the diagram upon which I have based this description. 16
that they could use that confusion to their own good - Wulfbold is not the only one.38 Ælfric Cild -
ÆTHELRIC (TO LEOFSUNU) This is Ælfwine's father, who is not often spoken of by Ælfwine.
BYRHTNOTH - Ælfric was exiled six years ago for his own misdeeds, and there have been others.39 These happenings deepen the need for us to uphold our unwavering oaths to King Æthelred.
LEOFSUNU Do you worry that your own men might not be steadfast? That Ælfwine might follow his father?
BYRHTNOTH I would be as a child if I believed in their trueness without thought, but a symbel will help to strengthen their vows and awaken the boldness of the old ways. I will have Ælfflæd begin at once to make ready.
Byrhtnoth finishes eating, takes one last drink of mead, and leaves the hall by the smaller door at the far end.
LEOFSUNU Do you think this will work? Symbels are not held very often these days.
ÆTHELRIC I don't know. We all like the old tales, and we all like eating and drinking, but I don't know if a symbel in the old way will bear upon the oaths of our hearth brothers.40 38 England in the tenth century went through a series of kings, unifications, and divisions of rulership. After Edgar’s death in 975, there was a dispute between his sons Edward and Æthelred over the succession, and according to Keynes, “[t]he political confusion attendant upon the disputed succession [...] was widely exploited by those inclined to put their personal interests above their respect for public order” (Keynes, 82). 39 Ælfric Cild was the son-in-law of Ealdorman Ealhhelm of Central Mercia. After his brother-in-law’s death, he became ealdorman in 983, and seized property belonging to his brother-in-law’s widow. He was then banished in 985 or 986 (Locherbie-Cameron, “The Men Named,” 241). It is probable, though not certain, that this is the Ælfric to whom the poet refers when he names Ælfwine’s father. 40 It is uncertain how common these ceremonies were in tenth-century England. In the screenplay, I include descriptions of 17
WISTAN It can't hurt for Byrhtnoth to bring to our minds all that he has given us, and the bond that we hold with him through his kindness.
The men finish eating and the CAMERA follows them as they head towards the main door to leave. On their way out, they pass a SCOP sitting on a stool in the corner, and the CAMERA leaves the men and ZOOMS IN towards the SCOP, who finishes tuning his lyre and begins to sing, accompanied by music:41
10 EXT. SITE OF THE BATTLE - LATE MORNING 10
SCOP Se flod ut gewat. Þa flotan stodon gearowe, wicinga fela, wiges georne.42
Time passes. TIME LAPSE SHOT on the DEAD TREE as the tide goes out, revealing a roughly built land bridge joining NORTHEY ISLAND to the MAINLAND. The sun is now HIGHER in the cloudless sky.
MEDIUM SHOT: Vikings begin to cross the bridge.
MEDIUM WIDE SHOT: Byrhtnoth turns to WULFSTAN:
BYRHTNOTH Wulfstan! Hold the bridge!
WULFSTAN nods to ÆLFHERE and MACCUS, who draw their swords and follow him onto the bridge to meet the VIKINGS in battle.
MEDIUM SHOT: The FIRST VIKING to come within fighting distance of WULFSTAN swings a large axe towards Wulfstan's neck, but Wulfstan easily dodges the swing and slices into the Viking's neck before pushing him off the bridge.43
MEDIUM SHOT: As Wulfstan pushes the first Viking off the bridge, ÆLFHERE steps past him and blocks the swing of a VIKING SWORD with his SHIELD before cutting the Viking down.
MEDIUM SHOT: The NEXT VIKING must then climb over the body of his compatriot, and he is easily slain by MACCUS.
the symbel as part of ‘old ways’ in order to echo the poet’s allusions to traditional poetic tropes which may no longer have been customary. 41 Although it is unknown how the scop would have presented his poems, songs, or recitations, I have choose to supply the scop with a lyre, and imagine him singing the lines included from The Battle of Maldon. 42 “The tide went out. The sailors stood ready, / many Vikings, eager for battle” (Maldon, ll. 72-73). 43 Axes are my own addition to the battle. See above, fn. 10. 18
It is clear that the Viking attack will not be successful if they have to continue across the bridge one by one and two by two.
MEDIUM SHOT: At a signal from the VIKING COMMANDER, the VIKING MESSENGER blows a horn, cries die down, and the Vikings who were crossing the bridge stop their advance. Byrhtnoth signals to his troops to cease activity.
MEDIUM SHOT: An Anglo-Saxon ARCHER lowers his bow.
MEDIUM SHOT: As the cries die down, the VIKING MESSENGER steps forward a few feet onto the bridge and yells across.
VIKING MESSENGER You, proud leader, told us that you would pay us with spear-tips and swords, but your tribute is meagre. Give us room to move over the bro44 so that we may take our toll in full!
CLOSE-UP: Byrhtnoth considers the proposition quickly, smiles, then turns to face his troops.45
BYRHTNOTH Fall back! We will give these slaughter-wolves the welcome they have won!46
MEDIUM CLOSE-UP: OFFA and BYRHTWOLD look towards Byrhtnoth, then towards the Vikings, with resolute expressions on their faces.
MEDIUM CLOSE-UP: GODRIC, GODWINE, and GODWIG are startled and
44 Danish: bridge 45 This line represents the most controversial phrase in the poem, for his ofermode, and I have chosen to leave its interpretation ambiguous and subject to the interpretation of the actor and director (Maldon, l. 89). While the poet may have had a specific meaning that he wished to imply by using this phrase, it is one that will forever be lost to us; if he meant the phrase to be ambiguous, then his strategy is still successful today; if he used the word ofermod to fulfill an alliterative need, he nonetheless inadvertently created one of the most heated discussions in Old English studies. For more information on the debate over the meaning and implications of ofermod, see below, 70-79. 46 Eagles, ravens, and wolves are the three beasts of battle most often mentioned together in Anglo-Saxon and Scandinavian literature, turning up to feast on the bodies of the slain. In The Battle of Maldon, the poet writes Þær wearð hream ahafen; hremmas wundon, / earn æses georn; wæs on eorþan cyrm [There a clamour was raised; ravens circled, / eagle eager for carrion; there was a cry upon the earth], and the vikings are referred to as wælwulfas [slaughter- wolves]: Wodon þa wælwulfas, for wætere ne murnon, / wicinga werod, west ofer Pantan [The slaughter-wolves advance, they did not care about the water, / Viking troop, west over the Blackwater (Maldon, ll. 106-107; 96-97). Roberta Frank points out that the three are often associated with the side who will win, and an Anglo-Saxon audience would have recognized the foreshadowing of the Vikings’ victory. In my screenplay, I did not attempt to translate the predictive aspects of the trio of wolves, ravens, and eagles into signs that a modern audience would understand, because I felt that the uncertainty of the outcome and the hope that Byrhtnoth and his troops might prevail would have a greater narrative impact. 19
somewhat disconcerted by Byrhtnoth's decision.47
LONG SHOT: Byrhtnoth's troops retreat enough for the Vikings to be able to make a battle-formation on the shore, and then re-form the SHIELD-WALL.
BYRHTNOTH (CONT'D) Now that road is open to you, come quickly to us, men to war; God alone knows who will control the field of battle.
LONG SHOT: VIKINGS begin crossing the BRIDGE unopposed. As soon as they are close enough, they begin to throw SPEARS towards the Anglo-Saxon army.
LONG SHOT: VIKING ARMY POV: Anglo-Saxon army standing at the ready in anticipation of their arrival on the mainland shore. Some of the Anglo-Saxons begin to throw SPEARS towards the Vikings in return.
BYRHTNOTH (CONT'D) Hold the shield-wall!
ANGLO-SAXON POV: VIKING rushes towards the camera as he raises an axe above his head.
VIKING POV: The Anglo-Saxon army holds the line, and the VIKING focuses on the ANGLO-SAXON WARRIOR whom he is about to attack. The ANGLO-SAXON WARRIOR stands still and poised, ready for the onslaught.
ANGLO-SAXON WARRIOR POV: The VIKING is about to make contact.
VIKING POV: As the VIKING is about to strike, the ANGLO-SAXON WARRIOR raises his shield. As the VIKING WEAPON makes contact with the ANGLO-SAXON SHIELD...
CUT TO:
11 EXT. BYRHTNOTH'S ESTATE - EVENING - WINTER 11
HORN BLOWS!
LONG ESTABLISHING SHOT: The sky is overcast, with no stars visible and only a vague light spot in the clouds indicating the moon's position in the sky and the location of Byrhtnoth's main hall.
As the shot closes in on the hall, we see several dark shapes
47 There is no mention of Godric, Godwine, and Godwig’s reactions to Byrhtnoth’s pronouncement, but I am beginning to build my characterization of the three as cowardly: they make big boasts, but do not follow through. 20
mingling in the yard, and when the horn sounds again they begin to move towards and enter the hall.48 Small and sparse flakes of snow begin to fall, and the men's breath is clearly visible in the cold night air.
A man with a spear and a horn hanging on a cord around his neck is standing guard outside the door, and a warm light shines out of the doorway through which the guests are passing.49
12 INT. BYRHTNOTH'S MEAD-HALL - EVENING50 12
The fire in the hearth is roaring, heating the whole hall and filling it with a slight smoky air. At the centre of one of the long walls there is a raised dais with two chairs upon it. Standing in front of the dais is the CUP BEARER. To either side of the dais are long wooden tables with benches on each side; on the other side of the hearth two more mead-benches run the length of the wall.
As the guests enter the hall, two women on each side of the doorway provide the guests with water and a towel to wash their hands, after which the guests mingle without sitting down.51 There is a low murmuring of conversation as the guests greet one another.
Conversation ceases as BYRHTNOTH enters the hall from the small door, accompanied by EDWARD BURTHEGN, and they stand in front of the dais. Placed at the foot of the dais is a chest full of treasure. At BYRHTNOTH's signal, his hand raised in the air, the guests proceed to their places at the mead benches: OFFA is placed directly to BYRTHNOTH'S right, followed by BYRHTWOLD, ÆTHELRIC, LEOFSUNU, WISTAN, OFFA'S KINSMAN (accompanied by his hawk), and EADRIC. To BYRHTNOTH'S left are EDWARD BURTHEGN, WULFMÆR, WULFSTAN, ÆLFHERE, MACCUS, WULfMÆR THE YOUNGER, and ÆLFNOTH.
Directly opposite BYRHTNOTH, on the other side of the hall, is ÆLFWINE. To ÆLFWINE's right are OSWALD, EADWOLD, GODRIC, GODWINE, and GODWIG. To ÆLFWINE's left are GODRIC 2, ÆSCFERTH, EDWARD THE TALL, and DUNNERE. On either side of this group are several unnamed warriors.52
BYRHTNOTH steps up onto the dais and signals for everyone to 48 According to Pollington, a horn would be used to call the guests to the feast (Pollington, 42, 198). See also David Wilson, The Bayeux Tapestry, plates 47-48, commentary 187. The Bayeux Tapestry depicts a man blowing a horn in between a scene of food preparation and a feast scene, presumably summoning the guests to the meal. 49 Pollington describes the duties of the duruþegn [doorkeeper] as “guarding access to the meal, challenging those wishing to enter, and ensuring the ritual protection of the symbel was respected” (Pollington, 198). 50 The organization of the ritual symbel is based on Pollington’s description of this event (Pollington, 42-47). 51 A duruþinen or duruþeowen [female doorkeeper] would have performed this duty (Pollington, 198). 52 The guests’ proximity to Byrhtnoth indicates their rank and importance. 21
be seated, though he remains standing.
After everyone is seated in their proper places, ÆLFFLÆD enters the hall dressed in her finest clothing. She is adorned with a gold necklace, bracelets, and a gold circlet around her neck. She is carrying a drinking vessel, an intricately carved horn.
ÆLFFLÆD I wish to give welcome to all who are here, sharing in our food and drink, strengthening the bonds between us all in these trying times. Welcome Offa and Byrhtwold; Æthelric, Leofsunu, and Wistan; Eadric and Offa's young kinsman. Welcome Wulfmær and Wulfstan, Ælfhere, Maccus, and Wulfmær the Younger; welcome Ælfnoth. Welcome to all who have come here tonight. Wilcume!
As Ælfflæd welcomes each warrior by name, singly or in groups, CAMERA cuts to a MEDIUM SHOT of that group.53 The warriors react in various ways: raising a hand, nodding a greeting, briefly bowing his head.
ÆLFFLÆD offers the first drink to BYRHTNOTH:
ÆLFFLÆD (CONT'D) Take this cup, my wellborn lord, giver of gold. Be happy, gold friend of men, and speak to your heorðwerod with kind words as a man ought to do. Be kind towards your men, mindful of the gifts from near and far that you now have.54
ÆLFFLÆD hands the drinking horn to BYRHTNOTH and he takes the first drink.
BYRHTNOTH Thank you, Lord, for this day's good work, and for good work past, and good work to come. May we all live well until it is time for our souls to go to heaven, unhindered by thieves who would steal our souls into hell.
OFFA raises a loaf of bread over his head, so that all can
53 Although the hlafdige [lady] might have greeted each and every guest by name, this would have taken too long for a screenplay of this length, so Ælfflæd only greets the most important guests. 54 Beowulf ll. 1169-75. My translation, based on Bruce Mitchell and Fred C. Robinson, eds., Beowulf: An Edition, 87. 22
see, and breaks it in two.
BYRHTNOTH (CONT'D) Wuton wel wesan! Let us be well!
ÆLFFLÆD proceeds to offer a drink from the horn to all present in order of rank or importance: starting with the table to BYRHTNOTH's right; then the one to his left; then crossing the hall and offering drinks to those seated at the table on the opposite side of the hearth.
CAMERA HOLDS THE SHOT on OFFA as he drinks then passes the horn to BYRHTWOLD who takes his drink in turn. The shots on the other warriors are shorter and quicker, condensing what would have been a half-hour long ceremony into around a minute on screen.
Each warrior stands as he drinks then returns to sitting before the next warrior drinks. During this procedure, every warrior remains solemn and serious, as befitting the occasion for the feast.
Once the last warrior has taken his drink, ÆLFFLÆD returns to sit beside BYRHTNOTH on the dais.
BYRHTNOTH (CONT'D) Wuton wel wesan!
ALL Wuton wel wesan!
SCOP begins to play the lyre and sing, as food - various meats, fish, stews and vegetables - is served by youths and other servants, who kneel to offer food on spits to the guests at the feast, and the warriors begin to eat.55
GODRIC, GODWINE, and GODWIG eagerly dig into their food and drink. Interrupted, they look up, their mouths stuffed full of food, as OFFA stands.
OFFA I am Offa of Mercia, son of Orman, nephew of Bishop Theodric, and eater of time.56 Byrhtnoth is my brother in boldness; in our youth we fought off fear-wolves from the east, from across the seas, never wavering. I have slain many foes with ash and iron. With my wreaker of doom I took off the heads of five Vikings,
55 For more information on the types of food that would have served in Anglo-Saxon England and the style of dishes on which it would have been served, see Pollington, 119-180. 56 Offa’s father is unknown, so I chose a name that alliterates, but it is likely that he was the nephew of Bishop Theodric. See Locherbie-Cameron, “The Men Named,” 246. The poem mentions that he is a kinsman of Gadd (Maldon, l. 287). 23
and the others ran away in fear. If they dare to come again to our shores, I will be waiting eagerly, ready for battle.
Byrhtnoth reaches into the treasure chest and pulls out a gold arm-ring which he presents to Offa.57
BYRHTNOTH Offa, you have long been steadfast and bold, and I could trust no one more than I do you. Hal wes þu!
Everyone sitting at the tables raises his cups and yells "DRINC HAL!" Offa and Byrhtnoth sit; Byrhtwold stands.58
BYRHTWOLD I am Byrhtwold, son of Byrhtmær, singer of songs and speaker of words.59 On the battlefield my sword sings along with me, smasher of shields and breaker of bones. My words ring true and hard with the wound-songs of my foes, and as my years swell so too does my skill in battle-song.
Again Byrhtnoth chooses a piece of treasure from the chest at his feet, and presents it to Byrhtwold:
BYRHTNOTH Byrhtwold's boldness has only grown with his age! Hal wes þu!
Again the guests yell "DRINC HAL" and raise their cups to Byrhtwold, then continue to eat and drink.
A gaggle of small, laughing children runs into the hall and around the hearth, then back out the door, playing some kind of game.
Eadric, Wulfstan, Ælfhere, and Maccus are the next to affirm their loyalty to Byrhtnoth. They all stand at the same time, and their oath is somewhat rowdier than the previous oaths 57 Several of the men in the poem refer to the gifts that Byrhtnoth had previously given them: Godric fram guþe, and þone godan forlet / þe him mænigne oft mear gesealde [Godric (turned) from battle, and left that good man / who had often many horses given to him]; sincgyfa [treasure-giver]; beahgifa [ring-giver] (Maldon, ll. 187-188; 278; 290). 58 This drinking call-back is an anachronistic addition to the screenplay. The Oxford English dictionary explains that while the greeting hal wes þu was common in Old English, the first example of wes heil... drinc heil did not appear until 1140. See Oxford English Dictionary Online, s.v. “wassail, n.,” accessed March 17, 2013, http://www.oed.com/view/Entry/226012?rskey=AB7mM7&result=1&isAdvanced=false. 59 As with Offa, I have invented a name for Byrhtwold’s father. According to Locherbie-Cameron, it is likely that Byrhtwold was the cniht [servant] who was granted some land at Donyland (Essex) in Æthelflæd’s will (Æthelflæd being Byrhtnoth’s sister-in-law) between 975 and 991 (Locherbie-Cameron, “The Men Named,” 243). 24
taken by the two older men.
EADRIC We four have been friends since childhood, and true to Byrhtnoth since our youth. Our Norse brother, Maccus, has never wavered in his ware of our shores, and we will stand together until the end.60 A thane's bond with his lord goes beyond all ends!
Further cheers as the four raise their cups. Byrhtnoth reaches into the treasure chest and chooses four coins, one of which he throws to each of the four standing men. They sit as Ælfwine stands:
ÆLFWINE Our bond with our lord goes beyond both the edges of his land and the ties of kin. I am the glad grandson of Ealhhelm, my mother's father, whose line I look up to. As you all know, my father Aelfric Cild, son of Ealhhelm, is cast out into the cold, but in Byrhtnoth I have found a man who is more than worthy of my loyalty.
BYRHTWOLD “Often a man alone begs for mercy, the Maker's mildness. Sorrowful of heart, over the water-way he has long been made to move with his hands the ice-cold sea, to walk the paths of exile. Wyrd bið ful aræd!”61
Byrhtnoth exchanges a glance with Offa and Byrhtwold, and nods to them as he takes a coin from the chest and throws it across the room to Ælfwine. Sounds of feasting rise up and continue as Ælfwine sits.
OFFA (IN A LOW VOICE) (to Byrhtnoth and Byrhtwold) I hope that he is right, and that all other ties are nothing when set against the bond with you, and thus also bound to Æthelred and his 60 Although Locherbie-Cameron points out that there are instances of the name Maccus/Maccos in Old Irish and Old Cornish, I have chosen to use the possibility that it was a form of the Norse name Magnus, implying that Maccus was descended from Viking settlers (Locherbie-Cameron, “The Men Named,” 239). 61 The Wanderer, ll. 1-5. My translation, based on “The Wanderer,” in The Exeter Book, eds. George Philip Krapp and Elliott Van Kirk Dobbie, 134-137. Wyrd bið ful aræd [Wyrd (fate) is fully determined]. 25
land.
BYRHTNOTH They have given me no grounds to fear for their trueness, and these gifts that I have given can only strengthen our bonds. Our Norse brother, Maccus, Ælfwine, and even our hostage Æscferth have never wavered in good times or bad.
BYRHTWOLD This symbel will spark strength and steadfastness in our men for the hard times to come, but we must not soften and unwind.
Although they are speaking in low voices, Æscferth and Ælfwine look across at them as if they have heard their brief exchange.
Æscferth begins to stand and speak, but is interrupted by Leofsunu who eagerly stands and makes an oath:
LEOFSUNU My home is in Sturmer, to the North, and I have traveled far to be here at this great meal, and to make an oath to our great lord, Byrhtnoth! Long live Byrhtnoth and Æthelred!
ALL Byrhtnoth and King Æthelred! Wesað hale!
As the cheers die down, Æscferth stands to prove his loyalty through an oath of his own:
ÆSCFERTH I am Æscferth, son of Ecglaf. I came here from Northumbria as a boy, a living oath of peace between Byrhtnoth and my Danish kin.62 Since I came here, I have been cared for with kindness. As a youth I chose to stay, and freely took an oath to help my lord in whatever way I can. I now swear again that I will willingly give my life for my lord
62 According to Locherbie-Cameron, Ecglaf could be an Anglicized version of the Old Norse Eilifr or Eȝlaf, and Æscferth would therefore be the son of an Anglo-Danish family. I assume that this is so, and that Æscferth was given as a hostage to Byrhnoth in order to give an assurance of peace between the two families (Locherbie-Cameron, “The Men Named,” 239, 242). 26
and my newfound land, if need be.
Byrhtnoth again throws coins to those who have taken an oath of loyalty.
OFFA (TO BYRHTWOLD) These are good words, but will their strength in battle follow their words?
BYRHTWOLD The feast that we have held tonight will raise the feelings of bonded men, such as we hear about in the old songs.
Byrhtnoth interrupts their exchange:
BYRHTNOTH Offa! How is your young kinsman? Still gaming with hawks?
OFFA He is well. He likes his games, but is earnest about learning the ways of men. And how is your nephew, Wulfmær?
BYRHTNOTH He too is well...
Byrhtnoth's voice fades into the background as the noises of the feast grow louder and the shot ZOOMS OUT.
OFFA'S KINSMAN is feeding small pieces of meat to his hunting hawk, who is sitting on the table with a hood on.
CAMERA PANS around the room, taking in shots of the men eating, drinking, talking, and laughing. CAMERA then ZOOMS IN to focus on the SCOP, who is reciting the poem and accompanying himself on his LYRE.
SCOP þær wearð hream ahafen; hremmas wundon, earn æses georn; wæs on eorþan cyrm.63
13 EXT. SITE OF THE BATTLE - DAY 13
SCOP (V.O.) Hi leton þa of folman feolhearde speru,
63 “There a clamour was raised; ravens circled, / eagle eager for carrion; there was a cry upon the earth” ( Maldon, ll. 106- 107). 27
grimme gegrundene garas fleogan. Bogan wæron bysige, bord ord onfeng. Biter wæs se beaduræs; beornas feollon on gehwæðere hand, hyssas lagon.64
MEDIUM SHOT: An group of RAVENS and EAGLES circles in the clear blue sky, and they can be heard cawing and screeching in anticipation of the feast that they are about to receive. Shot moves down from the ravens to the battle taking place on the shore of the river.
CAMERA TILTS DOWN and the ravens' caws are slowly drowned out by the sounds of the battle below. SCOPS' V.O. then also fades away against the battle sounds as the CAMERA shows us:
A MEDIUM LONG SHOT of the destruction that is taking place on the shore of the Blackwater; CAMERA PANS ACROSS the mayhem on the shore:
Spears and arrows are flying; dead, dying, and wounded men on both sides of the battle are falling to the ground with various gashes; the sounds of yelling in anger, triumph, and pain can be heard, as well as the thud of weapons hitting shields and body parts, and the clang of metal on metal.
MEDIUM SHOT: WULFMÆR is engaged in sword play with a large VIKING. As they are exchanging blows and parries, another VIKING rushes towards Wulfmær from behind and slashes at his neck with a sword. Several more VIKINGS then surround Wulfmær, hacking at his body with their swords - Byrhtnoth's beloved nephew is dead.
MEDIUM SHOT: EDWARD BURTHEGN attacks a VIKING with his SWORD; in the near background BYRHTNOTH can be seen busy with his own battle. EDWARDS slays the Viking before he has a chance to reach Byrhtnoth.
BYRHTNOTH Good work, Burthegn!
MEDIUM SHOTS: The battle continues and there are more casualties on both sides.
BYRHTNOTH (CONT'D) (yelling to all who can hear) Keep your mind on the fight at hand! We will win greatness from these Danes!
MEDIUM SHOT: An OLD VIKING approaches BYRHTNOTH with his shield raised and Byrhtnoth turns towards him. The OLD VIKING wounds BYRHTNOTH with a spear; BYRHTNOTH shatters the
64 “Then they sent from their hands file-hard spears, / the grimly ground spears flew. / Bows were busy, shield received spear-point. / Bitter was the battle, soldiers fell / on either side, young men lay” (Maldon, ll. 108-112). 28
spear-shaft with his shield and the spearhead falls from his body.
Angered, Byrhtnoth picks up a SPEAR from the ground and pierces the OLD VIKING's throat, then violently retracts the spear. Unable to yell, the Viking falls to the ground and dies.
BYRHTNOTH, still enraged, turns and uses the same SPEAR, now dripping blood, to kill another Viking by driving it through the Viking's ring-mail.
CLOSE-UP: BYRHTNOTH laughs. It is a hearty, deep-throated laugh that one would expect to hear if Byrhtnoth had just been told a really good joke.65
BYRHTNOTH (CONT'D) Thank you Lord for this day's good work!
MEDIUM CLOSE-UP of VIKING WARRIOR 1, standing some distance from Byrhtnoth. Viking Warrior 1 hurls a SPEAR with great force.
MEDIUM CLOSE UP: The spear easily pierces Byrhtnoth's leather armour and passes into his chest.
SHOT WIDENS TO INCLUDE the young thane, WULFMÆR THE YOUNGER and ÆLFNOTH, who are standing next to BYRHTNOTH, fighting the Viking raiders.
Wulfmær the Younger pulls the spear from BYRHTNOTH's chest and throws it back towards VIKING WARRIOR 1. Byrhtnoth is injured but still standing.
MEDIUM CLOSE UP: The spear thrown by Wulfmær the Younger passes right through VIKING WARRIOR 1's chest and kills him.
MEDIUM SHOT: VIKING WARRIOR 2 menacingly approaches BYRHTNOTH as WULFMÆR THE YOUNGER and ÆLFNOTH continue to fend off more Vikings.
BYRHTNOTH draws his SWORD and attempts a mighty strike at VIKING WARRIOR 2, but VIKING WARRIOR 2 SLASHES at BYRHTNOTH's ARM and Byrhtnoth DROPS his sword before he can kill the Viking.
MEDIUM CLOSE-UP: BYRHTNOTH falls to his knees and looks to the heavens, as WULFMÆR THE YOUNGER and ÆLFNOTH manage to drive back the Vikings a short distance.
65 After Byrhtnoth is wounded, [s]e eorl wæs þe bliþra: / hloh þa modi man sæde Metode þanc / ðæs dægweorces þe him Drihten forgeaf [the earl was the happier: / the proud man laughed, said thanks to the Maker / for the day’s work that the Lord had given him] (Maldon, ll. 146b-148). I chose to interpret this laughter as a mixture of battle-glee and the laughter of relief at having escaped death. 29
BYRHTNOTH (CONT'D) Thank you, Lord of lords, for all the happiness that I have found in this world. Now, mild Maker, in my time of greatest need, I ask that you grant grace to my spirit so that my soul may go to you, into your care, Lord of Angels, and leave with peace. I beg you that thieves from Hell might not lay my soul low.
MEDIUM SHOT: Several more Vikings surround BYRHTNOTH, WULFMÆR THE YOUNGER, and ÆLFNOTH, attracted by the possibility of looting such well-armoured bodies. They hack at BYRHTNOTH's body as he dies.
WULFMÆR THE YOUNGER and ÆLFNOTH hold out as long as they can, but soon fall under the onslaught of Vikings, coming to rest beside Byrhtnoth.
14 INT. BYRHTNOTH'S MEAD-HALL - NIGHT 14
The symbel continues. A man, sitting close to the main door, finishes some meat and throws the BONE to the floor, where a WOLFHOUND and some HALF-GROWN PUPS are waiting. They surround the bone just as the Vikings surrounded Byrhtnoth, Wulfmær the Younger, and Ælfnoth, fighting over the spoils.
The wolfhound is triumphant, grabbing the bone away from the pups and growling at them in warning. He nips one of the pups, who yips and runs away. CAMERA follows the pup out the main door and into the cold, past the guard, who watches as the pup scurries past and into the darkness. The guard's breath is clearly visible in the night air.
Back inside the hall, the party has gotten noticeably rowdier. A group of men are singing with the SCOP in one corner, and several conversations are going on throughout the hall.
The camera eventually settles on Byrhtnoth, Offa, and Byrhtwold, who are reminiscing about the decades of peace that their fathers knew, and that they knew in their younger years.66
BYRHTNOTH
66 Byrhtnoth, Byrhtwold, and Offa were likely all over sixty, and therefore would have been boys during the tail end of the last plague of Viking raids. Raised hearing old, epic tales of heroism and bravery, I imagine that they were eager to become bold men able to defend their homeland and win glory on the battlefield. 30
I remember our youth, when we were eager to fight the Viking foes of our fathers.
BYRHTWOLD We were downhearted when King Alfred drove them away, and we had to live in peace and turn our thoughts to other matters.
OFFA Now we are thankful for the mild years that King Alfred gave us, peace broken only by men such as Wulfbold.
BYRHTNOTH All the same we look forward to the time when we will again slay some slaughter-wolves, steadfast together on the battlefield.
OFFA We are now also thankful for the leadership of our King Æthelred, who has greatheartedly given us the gift of heathen foes ready for bloodshed.67 We will once again prove our worth on the battlefield.
BYRHTNOTH We will fight as they did at Wednesfield, that great battle of eighty years past, driving the Vikings back across the sea!68
CUT TO:
EDWARD THE TALL Dunnere! How does the life of a thane compare to the life of a ceorl?
DUNNERE It's a great thing to fight for 67 I imagine that Byrhtnoth is not able to appear doubtful about King Æthelred in front of his men, so it is left to Offa to voice any criticisms about the king. 68 “According to the late tenth-century chronicler Ealdorman Æthelweard, an army of West Saxons and Mercians intercepted a viking war band from Northumbria as it crossed the Severn on its way home from a highly successful raid on the lands of western Mercia: ‘[b]ut when, exulting in their rich spoils, they withdrew homewards, they crossed a bridge on the eastern side of the Severn... A battle-line was formed, and the troops of the Mercians and the West Saxons suddenly went against them. A battle ensued and the English without delay obtained the victory at Wednesfield’ (English Historical Documents no. 1, annal 910, n. 1). Apparently, the English awaited the enemy’s crossing on the eastern shore rather than blocking their passage over the bridge. If so, Wednesfield may be seen as a victorious Maldon” (Abels, 148). 31
Byrhtnoth, and my kin are very proud. What of you, Æscferth? What of your kin?
ÆSCFERTH Like Byrhtnoth, my father, Ecglaf, is an earl; I've been very happy with my life here in Essex.
Wistan gets Byrhtnoth's attention:
WISTAN Byrhtnoth! My son grows stronger every year and is eager to make his oath to you again! (to Wulfmær the Younger) Go on!
Wulfmær the Younger stands.
WULFMÆR THE YOUNGER I, Wulfmær, son of Wistan, am proud to be welcomed at your table, in your hall, and by your side in fight.
BYRHTNOTH And we are proud to have you with us.
Byrhtnoth presents Wulfmær the Younger with a coin in exchange for the vow of loyalty that he has taken. Wulfmær sits again and returns to eating and drinking.
Ælfnoth, not to be left out, also stands.
ÆLFNOTH I have known you for some years now, Byrhtnoth, and I vow to give back the kindnesses that you have shown me with Viking blood spilled in a good fight.
Byrhtnoth throws him a coin, and Ælfnoth skillfully catches it high in the air, using some trick moves, then bows as everyone claps.
As the sounds of laughter, speech, and singing grow louder in the hall, OFFA'S KINSMAN summons the falconer and has him take the HAWK out of the hall.
As the hawk is being removed, some DISHES spill to the floor with a loud CLASH. The hawk screeches and flaps his wings at the noise, and for a moment the sounds of the mead-hall are almost indistinguishable from the sounds on the battlefield. 32
The men who knocked over the dishes roar with laughter, and a servant comes to clean up the mess and bring new cups and plates.
In a corner of the hall, a man is snoring loudly, his hand still holding a chicken thigh.
Godric, Godwine, and Godwig are three of the most rowdy guests at the party, having been drinking steadily since the beginning of the feast.
Godric, somewhat intoxicated, stumbles slightly as he stands to make a speech, inspired and perhaps a little jealous of the positive reception that Ælfnoth's skillful catch of the coin received.
GODRIC I and my brothers, Godwine and Godwig, [he motions to Godwine and Godwig to stand with him], sons of Odda, vow to make ourselves known in battle when the time comes, and to drive any Viking thieves of gold and life into the next world with our spears and swords, as befitting both our kin and our great leader, Byrhtnoth!
Godwine and Godwig yell in agreement, and all three raise their glasses. The other guests raise their cups, but less enthusiastically than the three brothers, as Byrhtnoth throws them each a coin. None of the three, however, manages to catch the coin, and they must pick them up off the floor and the table before sitting down to continue feasting.
OFFA (in a low voice, so that only Byrhtnoth and those closest to him can hear) You have already given them many gifts, gold and horses, and have little to show for it.
BYRHTNOTH There has been little time to try their skill, but we need to know that they will be with us when the time comes for fighting, as their father and uncles were in the past.
OFFA A son is not always like to his father in boldness. 33
BYRHTNOTH I am strong in my belief that this symbel will ward off any wavering, and that thoughts of this feast will strengthen the mind when the time comes for oaths to be upheld.
OFFA I hope you are right. I will try not to reckon on who will be ærest on fleame when faced with the truth of a fight.69
BYRHTNOTH There will be no first in flight; all will hold steady.
As the symbel FADES OUT, the SCOP's voice once more emerges on top of the sounds of the feasting...
SCOP (V.O.) Hi bugon þa fram beaduwe þe þær beon noldon:70
15 EXT. SITE OF THE BATTLE - DAY 15
...and the SOUNDS of the symbel merge with then meld into the sounds of the battlefield, as the SCOP continues to recite.
SCOP (V.O.) þær wurdon Oddan bearn ærest on fleame, Godric fram guþe, and þone godan forlet þe him mænigne oft mear gesealde; he gehleop þone eoh þe ahte his hlaford, on þam gerædum þe hit riht ne wæs, and his broðru mid him begen ærndon, Godwine and Godwig, guþe ne gymdon[...]71
MEDIUM SHOT of an Anglo-Saxon warrior lying dead on the battlefield. The fighting has moved down the shore, and several RAVENS have already begun to reap their reward, pecking at his eyes and his wounds. They are chased away by an EAGLE who proceeds to eat his fill.
The ravens scatter, SCREECHING, as GODRIC runs past, towards Byrhtnoth’s horse, followed by his brothers GODWINE and GODWIG. The EAGLE merely hops a few paces, not willing to give up his feast. 69 ærest on fleame: [first in flight] (Maldon, l. 186b). 70 “Then they turned away from battle, those who did not want to be there” (Maldon, l. 185). 71 “There were Odda’s children first in flight, / Godric (turned) from battle, and left that good man / who had often many horses given to him; he mounted that horse that had belonged to his lord, / onto the trappings which was not right, / and his brothers with him both ran off, / Godwine and Godwig, did not care for battle...” (Maldon, ll. 186-192). 34
GODRIC grabs the reins of BYRHTNOTH'S HORSE, standing on the edge of the battlefield, mounts, and rides away towards the woods.72
His brothers GODWINE and GODWIG flee after him on foot.
MEDIUM CLOSE-UP: An ANGLO-SAXON WARRIOR looks up from a pause in the fighting.
WIDE SHOT: ANGLO-SAXON WARRIOR POV: The three brothers are galloping and running towards the woods. At this distance, and from behind, only the TRAPPINGS of Byrhtnoth's horse are visible. It is impossible to tell who is riding the horse.
ANGLO-SAXON WARRIOR Byrhtnoth is fleeing! The fight is lost!
WIDE SHOT: ANGLO-SAXON WARRIOR starts running after Godric, Godwine, and Godwig. Those near to him who heard his yell look up and quickly begin to follow.
ANGLO-SAXON WARRIOR 2 The fight is lost! Our lord flees!
WIDE SHOT: Still others begin to flee, movements which mirror the hawks' flight towards the woods before battle.73
16 EXT. SITE OF THE BATTLE - DAY 16
MEDIUM SHOT: BYRHTNOTH's hearth-companions drive back the Vikings surrounding his body and form a circular battle formation around the bodies of Ælfnoth, Wulfmær the Younger, and their dead leader.
ÆLFWINE, OFFA, LEOFSUNU, ÆSCFERTH, EDWARD THE TALL, ÆTHELRIC, WISTAN, OSWOLD, EADWOLD, BYRHTWOLD, and GODRIC 2 work together as a well-oiled machine, and kill all the Vikings in the immediate vicinity of Byrhtnoth's body.
The battle continues around the hearth-troops, but with their skillful fighting they have cleared a small space of peace. 72 Owen-Crocker states that “[w]hatever form Byrhtnoth’s horse-trappings took, it is likely that they incorporated precious metals, as well as outstanding wood and leather craftsmanship” (Owen-Crocker, 233). Such fancy trappings would have been recognizable to the members of the fyrd, especially after Byrhtnoth rode in front of his troops in order to encourage and inspire them, leading to Godric being mistaken for Byrhtnoth. 73 It is arguable that this is the point where the battle takes a turn for the worst. If the armies were of relatively equal size, Byrhtnoth’s decision to allow them to cross would not have meant certain defeat for the Anglo-Saxons; however, with a significant amount of the Anglo-Saxon troops fleeing, it would have been much easier for the Vikings to overrun Byrhtnoth’s army. I imagine that the battle taking place on screen would intensify at this moment, for I tend to agree with those scholars who do not believe that the battle was lost at the moment the Vikings cross the bridge. 35
ÆLFWINE I recall when we often spoke over mead, when we took oaths while sitting on the bench, thanes in the hall, about hard battle; now we might find out who is bold. I wish to make my well-born kin-line known to all, that I was from a mighty Mercian house; my grandfather was named Ealhelm, a wise ealdorman, wealthy and happy while he was in this world. Thanes shall not be able to chide me in that land, that I wished to go from this fyrd and seek my homeland, now that my lord lies slain, hewn down in battle. The greatest sorrow to me is that Byrhtnoth was both my kinsman and my lord.74
As he finishes speaking, ÆLFWINE notices a pair of VIKINGS approaching the group. He throws a SPEAR which pierces one of the Vikings through the chest, killing him immediately.
ÆLFWINE (CONT'D) Follow me into greatness, bold thanes!
ÆLFWINE runs towards the second Viking with SWORD drawn. There is a great CLASH as the two meet in battle.
CUT TO:
MEDIUM SHOT of the remaining hearth-troops. OFFA shakes his SPEAR above his head.
OFFA Behold then, Ælfwine has emboldened us all, thanes in fight. Now our lord lies dead, earl on the earth, there is a need for every man to embolden each other, men at war, as long as he might have and hold a weapon, hard blade, spear and good sword. Godric, Odda's fearful son, has forsaken us all. Too many men thought that it was our lord when he rode away on that great horse; because of that the
74 It is unlikely that the men found the time to stop and make long speeches during the actual battle at Maldon, and even if they had, it is unlikely that the poet was there to hear them first-hand. However, the speeches are an integral part of the memorialization of Byrhtnoth’s retainers as brave, loyal heroes. During their speeches, I attempt to walk a thin line between reality and heroic fantasy, just as the Maldon poet did. 36
fyrd split on the field, the shield wall broken.75 May his deeds come to nothing, that he here caused so many men to flee!
LONG SHOT: OFFA'S POV: A VIKING finishes slaughtering an Anglo-Saxon and starts to run towards the hearth-troops.
Offa runs to keep the Viking at bay.
CUT TO:
MEDIUM SHOT of the remaining hearth-troops. LEOFSUNU raises his shield.
LEOFSUNU I swear that I shall not flee one foot's pace from here, but will go forward, to avenge in battle my beloved lord. Steadfast thanes around Sturmere will have no need to chide me, now that my lord has fallen, that I, lordless, would go home, away from the fight; instead I shall hold my weapon, hard spear and iron sword.
Several more VIKINGS are approaching the hearth-troops. LEOFSUNU angrily turns to the battle, disappearing into the fray.
Preparing himself for the onslaught, DUNNERE shakes his SPEAR.
DUNNERE He who means to avenge his lord, lord of the folk, must never withdraw from the fight, nor care for life!
The Vikings reach the hearth-troops and there is a loud CLASH and THUD of weapons meeting shields and other weapons.
ÆSCFERTH shoots arrows in rapid succession, killing several Vikings with his bow and arrow, and hitting some shields.76 He doesn't notice the Viking running at him from behind until it is too late.
EDWARD THE TALL faces off with a Viking. 75 George Clark cites this speech as evidence that the poem was not written in criticism of Byrhtnoth’s ofermod, for this line clearly places the blame for the loss on Godric, Godwine, and Godwig. See George Clark, “The Hero of Maldon: Vir Pius et Strenuus,” 258. 76 Brooks points out that as a hostage, Æscferth “may not have been trusted with the standard weapons of free and noble warriors, spear and sword,” even though he did choose to stay and fight for Byrhtnoth (Brooks, 209). 37
EDWARD THE TALL I will not move one foot of land or go away from this battle, while my lord lies dead!
EDWARD THE TALL rampages through the Viking troops, killing many before he himself is killed.
ÆTHELRIC breaks from the group of hearth-companions and dives into battle, splitting many shields. Armour rings. He disappears among the Vikings, who are surrounding the hearth-troops in increasingly large numbers.
CUT TO:
OFFA kills a Viking, but is driven back towards Byrhtnoth's body. He is struck down, falling to the ground, and is cut to pieces as he lies near BYRHTNOTH's BODY.77
Shields SMASH and armour RINGS. Angry and battle-crazed, the Vikings are once again beginning to overrun the Anglo-Saxons. The casualties are increasing on both sides.
WISTAN is surrounded by the enemy, but manages to kill three Vikings before he is slain.
OSWOLD Hold steady!
EADWOLD Use your weapons without weakening!
OSWOLD Be strong and do not waver!
As the remaining hearth-troops continue to struggle in what is looking more and more like a hopeless battle, CAMERA focuses on BYRHTWOLD and everything around him begins to move in SLOW MOTION, taking on a dream-like quality.
BYRHTWOLD raises his shield and shakes his spear:
BYRHTWOLD Thoughts must be the harder, heart the keener, mind must be the greater as our strength grows less. Here lies our lord all forhewn, good man in the grit. Ever may he mourn, he who thinks to turn away from this battle-play. I am wise in life; I will not go from here, but there by the side of my lord, by so
77 As heroic poetry says that a loyal retainer should. 38
loved a man, I think to lie.78
As Byrhtwold finishes his SPEECH, movement RAMPS UP to normal speed.
17 THE END 17
SCOP (V.O.) Swa hi Æþelgares bearn ealle bylde, Godric to guþe. Oft he gar forlet, wælspere windan on þa wicingas, swa he on þam folce fyrmest eode, heow and hynde, oðþæt he on hilde gecranc.79
BYRHTWOLD, GODRIC 2, OSWOLD, and EADWOLD are now the only remaining hearth-troops. As more and more Vikings surround them, the live action scene MORPHS back into slightly animated TAPESTRY.
The TAPESTRY shows scenes representing the defeat at Maldon and other raids, some of which depict Anglo-Saxon loss, some depicting victory: Byrhtnoth's body returning to Ely; King Æthelred and Bishop Sigeric making payment to the Danish Vikings; more battle scenes:
SCOP (V.O.) (CONT'D) The Battle of Maldon was neither the first nor the last of a string of Viking raids stretching from 980 to 1016.80 The Anglo-Saxons won some battles, but lost many more, often because of a lack of leadership on the part of local earls.
TAPESTRY: King Æthelred and Bishop Sigeric are approving payments to the Vikings.
SCOP (V.O.) (CONT'D) For his failure to bring about a steady and unified plan of defence, 78 Byrhtwold continues in the role that I have assigned to him as warrior poet, speaking some of the most famous lines in the Anglo-Saxon canon. The emphasis that I place on his speech, as opposed to the speeches of the other members of the heorðwerod, through a slow-motion sequence is a product of the importance that modern scholars have placed upon the lines. We will never know how well-known they were at the time of writing. 79 So the son of Æthelgar encouraged all, / Godric to war. He often let fly a spear, / slaughter-spear spun to the Vikings, / just as he to the people went first, / he hewed and killed, until he perished in the battle. (Maldon, ll. 320-324). 80 From 980 until 991, the Viking raids were somewhat small and sporadic, but became larger and more sustained after the Anglo-Saxon loss at Maldon. The situation worsened from 1006 to 1016, with large payments of tribute being made but failing to inspire a united front against the invaders; instead, Æthelred faced treacherous dissent from his people. After Æthelred’s death in 1016, Edmund Ironside had to compromise with the Danish Cnut, and they spit the kingdom between Wessex (for Edmund) and Mercia (for Cnut). On Edmund Ironside’s death in November 1016, Cnut took control of the whole kingdom. See Keynes, “The Historical Context,” 81-113. 39
King Æthelred became known as Æthelred Unræd.81
TAPESTRY: Byrhtnoth's body is brought to Ely.
SCOP (V.O.) (CONT'D) Byrhtnoth was buried at Ely Abbey, where his bones remain to this day - save for his skull, which was most likely taken by the Vikings.82 Byrhtnoth had no son, and he was the last of his line to hold his title.
TAPESTRY: A young man on a horse.
SCOP (V.O.) (CONT'D) We do not know what became of Godric and his brothers, but their disgrace is forever preserved, as is the heroism of Byrhtnoth and his hearth-brothers, in the poem of The Battle of Maldon.83
TAPESTRY: Byrhtnoth, Offa, Byrhtwold and the rest of the heart-brothers in the mead-hall.
FADE TO BLACK.
CREDITS ROLL.
81 Æthelred the Unready. 82 What are presumed to be Byrhtnoth’s bones were originally buried at an unknown location at Ely, with a ball of wax in place of his skull. Since then, his bones were translated several times as the cathedral grew, and at the last translation in the eighteenth century, measurements were made of his bones. Although the present location of his bones remains uncertain, it is possible that they lie at Ely cathedral. For more details about the various translations of what are presumed to be Byrhtnoth’s bones, see Elizabeth Coatsworth, “Byrhtnoth’s Tomb,” 279-288. 83 Locherbie-Cameron points out that it is difficult to trace Godric and his brothers after Maldon not only because Godric is such a common name, but also because “their descent into obscurity [was] to be expected” (Locherbie-Cameron, “The Men Named,” 245). The battle itself may not have been remembered as more than a minor battle in the on-going series of Viking invasions were it not for the poem: “[t]oday Byrhtnoth would hardly grace the pages of an undergraduate essay, were it not that what came to be seen as his epic defence of the Essex coast was turned into legend by an Anglo- Saxon poet who celebrated the even in some hundreds of lines of verse in traditional English heroic style” (Donald Scragg, Introduction to The Battle of Maldon 991AD, xii). I hope perhaps someday to bring the story of the battle to an even wider audience by further immortalizing Byrhtnoth on film. 40
Chapter 2: History and The Battle of Maldon
My screenplay is an artistic representation of an artistic representation, but both are based on a historical event about which very little is known today. This lack of knowledge about the battle that took place at Maldon in August of 991 A.D. has led many scholars to attempt to glean information about the actual battle from the poem The Battle of Maldon, regardless of its clearly heroic style. This is indeed a tempting exercise, and one whose results I used in my screenplay in an attempt to come close to some semblance of realism consciously interspersed with traditional elements taken from the heroic aspects of the poem. Rather than trying to create a historically accurate movie based on the historical battle, I hoped to imitate the poet’s strategies in retelling a recent battle using a form that places it in the realm of heroic fantasy. As Renée Trilling states, “[t]his choice has particular consequences for how the resulting poem encourages its readers to think about the battle, its fallen leader, and its historical consequences, in terms of both the historicity of the event itself and its relation to other historical monuments of the Anglo-Saxon tradition.”1 Similarly, my choice of writing a screenplay version of the poetic battle has implications for how Anglo-Saxon history, literature, values, and lifestyle will be understood by a modern audience of the imagined film, and the cinematic world that I present will be viewed in relation to all the other medieval films that the audience might have seen. It was therefore important for me to gain a thorough understanding of the critical reception of the poem in terms of its historicity.
The poem as we know it today survives only in a transcript made from a manuscript collected by Sir Robert Cotton. There is no record of the original manuscript before the early seventeenth century, and no description of where Cotton obtained the leaves containing the poem. The manuscript 1 Renée Trilling, The Aesthetics of Nostalgia: Historical Representation in Old English Verse, 129-130. 41 was lost in the Ashburnham House fire of 1731, preventing any palaeographical or codicological dating of the only contemporary manuscript copy of the poem. A transcript of the poem was made at some point before the 19th of October, 1725, when Thomas Hearne received it from Robert Graves. In 1726,
Hearne printed the fragmentary poem in the appendix to John of Glastonbury's Chronicle, and this text has served as the source for all editions of the poem until the transcript was rediscovered by Neil Ker in
1935. Originally attributed to John Elphinston, in 1985 H. L. Rogers conclusively determined the transcript to have been made by David Casley. The transcript is headed Fragmentum quoddam historicum de Eadrico, etc., matching an entry in Thomas Smith’s 1696 catalogue of the Cotton
Library, so we know that the original manuscript was also in incomplete form. Nonetheless, many scholars have speculated about the origins of the poem and its historical and literary relation to the battle itself.
We know very little about the specific details of the battle that took place near Maldon in the year 991 A.D., because contemporary and near-contemporary records are limited, contradictory, and of varying reliability. Although the battle is documented in six copies of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, five of which are still extant, none of these accounts is particularly detailed and they are not all in agreement.2 The entry concerning the battle in versions C, D, and E of the Chronicle all relate that
[h]er wæs Gypeswic gehergod, and æfter þon swiðe raðe wæs Brihtnoð ealdorman ofslegen æt Mældune, and on þam geare man gerædde þæt man geald ærest gafol Denescum mannum for ðam miclan brogan þe hi worhton be ðam sæ riman, þæt wæs ærest x ðusend punda. Þene ræd gerædde ærest Syric arcebisceop.3
[(h)ere was Ipswich plundered, and very soon after that Ealdorman Byrhtnoth was slain at Maldon, and in that year it was decided that tribute would first be paid to the Danish
2 The most likely mis-dated entry for 993 A.D. of Version A of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle was written in the first decade of the eleventh century; Version CDE was composed in the first half of the eleventh century, and the oldest written version (C) is in a mid-eleventh century hand; Version F is thought to be derived from an ancestor of Version E, and is a bilingual version (Old English and Latin) written after the Norman Conquest. Chronicle entries cited here are from Janet M. Bately, “The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle,” 37-50. 3 Ibid., 38. 42
men because of the great terror that they wrought along the coast. Then Archbishop Sigeric first advised that course.]
Version F similarly reports that Byrhtnoth was slain at Maldon in 991 and that tribute of 10,000 pounds was first paid to the Danes on Archbishop’s Sigeric’s advice, but does not mention Ipswich by name as the site of previous raids:
[h]er wæs Brihtnoð ealderman ofslagen æt Mældune, and on ðam ylcan geare man gerædde þæt man geald ærost gauel Deniscan mannum for ðan wundræn þe hi worhton be særiman. Þæt wæs ærost tyn þusend punda. Þene ræd gerædde Siric arcebisceop.4
[(h)ere was Ealdorman Byrhtnoth slain at Maldon, and in that same year it was decided that tribute would first be paid to Danish men because of the wonder (horror) that they wrought along the coast. That was first ten thousand pounds. Archbishop Sigeric advised that course.]
Version A of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle differs the most from the other entries, including with its dating of the event in 993 A.D.5:
[h]er on ðissum geare com Unlaf mid þrim and hund nigontigon scipum to Stane and forhergedon þæt onytan, and for ða ðanon to Sandwic and swa ðanon to Gipeswic and þæt eall ofereode and swa to Mældune. And him ðær com togeanes Byrhtnoð ealdorman mid his fyrde and him wið gefeaht, and hy þone ealdorman ðær ofslogon and wælstowe geweald ahtan. And him man nam syððan frið wið, and hine nam se cing syððan to bisceopes handa ðurh Sirices lare Cantware bisceopes and Ælfeages Wincæstre bisceopes.6
[Here in this year Olaf came with ninety-three ships to Folkestone and plundered around it, and then from that place to Sandwich and so from that place to Ipswich and overrode it all and so to Maldon. And there they came together with Ealdorman Byrhtnoth with his troops and fought against them, and there they killed the ealdorman and had control of the battlefield. And afterwards they made peace with them, and then the king “took him to the bishops’ hands,” through the advice of Sigeric, Bishop of Kent, and of
4 Ibid., 40. 5 Janet M. Bately proposes that the discrepancy in dating of the battle may be the result of the scribe confusing two separate entries which mention Maldon, or that he may have been transcribing from a confusing or unclear source which is now lost. Versions CDE and F of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle all contain entries concerning a ninety-four ship attack on London by Anlaf and Swegen in 994; it is therefore possible that the scribe of version A combined that entry with the one telling of Byrhtnoth's death, which would also account for the fact that A mentions Olaf (generally accepted as referring to Olaf Tryggvason, who would later become King of Norway) as the perpetrator of the raid at Maldon. Bately admits, however, that “all this is sheer speculation and how 993A came to take the form it has will probably never be known” (Bately, 49). 6 Ibid., 37. 43
Ælfheah, Bishop of Winchester.]
Other sources of information about the battle of Maldon besides the poem and the Anglo-Saxon
Chronicle include the hagiographical Vita Oswaldi, the Liber Eliensis, John of Worcester’s Chronicle of Chronicles, and the Ramsey Chronicle. The Vita Oswaldi contains a much more detailed account of the battle of Maldon than any of the entries in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, and we can extrapolate some information about its origins based on a comparison with other works for which Byrhtferth of Ramsey is known to be the author. Michael Lapidge asserts that the Vita Oswaldi was also written by
Byrhtferth, and that since Byrhtferth uses Wulfstan of Winchester's Life of St. Æthelwold, completed in late 996, as a source, the Vita Oswaldi can thus be dated between 997 and 1005, making it one of the earlier annalistic accounts of the battle.7 Written in Latin, the Vita Oswaldi is a hagiographical text which places the Viking raids during Æthelred’s reign within a Christian narrative in which the Danish
Vikings act as agents of Beelzebub and the Anglo-Saxons are defenders of a Christian promised land.
As such, it is paramount that Byrhtferth portray Byrhtnoth in an exclusively and conspicuously positive light as a representative of Christian virtuous action; thus his focus is not on developing a historically accurate portrait of the ealdorman and his actions. Several details of the Vita Oswaldi coincide with those found in the poem The Battle of Maldon: that Byrhtnoth went to battle with his closest retainers; that he encouraged his men before and during battle; that he had white hair; and that he died in the battle. However, the Vita Oswaldi differs from the poem in several other aspects.8 It mentions that
7 Michael Lapidge, “The Life of St. Oswald,” 51. 8 Byrhtferth compares the Viking threat to England with God's warning to the Jewish people which Jeremiah conveyed: Dicit enim comminans propheta [MS prophetam]: ‘Pro eo quod non audistis uerba mea, ecce ego mittam et assumam uniuersas cognationes aquilonis (ait Dominus) et adducam eas super terram istam, et super habitatores eius, et super omnes nationes que in circuitu eius sunt, et interficiam illos.’ Et post pauca: ‘Secumdam uiam eorum faciam eis, et secumdum iudicia eorum iudicabo eos, et scient quia ego Dominus.’ [For the prophet Jeremiah said, reproachfully, ‘Because (said the Lord) you have not heard my words, behold I will send and take all the kindreds of the north, and I will bring them against this land, and against the inhabitants thereof, and against all the nations that are around about it, and I will destroy them.’ And a little further on: ‘I will do to them according to their ways, and will judge them according to their judgements, and they shall know that I am the Lord.’] (transcription and translation Lapidge, “Life of St. Oswald,” 54-55). 44
Byrhtnoth [s]tabat ipse statura procerus [was tall of stature, standing above the rest], a detail not found in the poem,9 and emphasizes not only the losses on Byrhtnoth’s side, but also that Dani quoque mirabiliter sunt uulnerati, qui uix suas constituere naues poterant hominibus [(t)he Danes too were severely wounded: they were scarcely able to man their ships].10 The most significant difference between the poem and the Vita Oswaldi is found in the description of what happens after Byrhthnoth’s death: instead of remaining to avenge the death of their leader or die trying, et reliqui fugerunt [those remaining fled], according to the account in the Vita Oswaldi.11 There is no mention of the loyalty or sacrifice of Byrhtnoth’s retainers. “But it is doubtful in any event whether Byrhtferth’s principal concern was to give a detailed and accurate account of the battle,” for he was more interested in creating a typology for a Christian England, whereas the Maldon poet was endeavouring to idealize and valorize the werod [war-band].12 The Vita Oswaldi should therefore not be considered as supporting evidence for the historical accuracy of the poetic account of the battle, in spite of the closeness of its date of composition to the historic battle, and most scholars have been quick to dismiss those details which do not accord with the poem.
Besides the Vita Oswaldi and the records in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, there are several historical accounts of the battle that were written in the twelfth century, presumably gleaned from earlier sources, most of which are now lost. There is no certainty that the accounts were transcribed verbatim from these postulated earlier sources, however, and Alan Kennedy points out that “these writers of monastic history were not averse to fabrication to fill gaps in their muniments or to rewriting legend and myth as history when a sufficiently eminent or spectacular past seemed lacking.” 13 In spite
9 A re-evaluation of measurements of Byrhtnoth's remains made in the eighteenth century estimates his height at just over six feet; Marilyn Deegan and Stanley Rubin, “Byrhtnoth's Remains: a Reassessment of his Stature,” 289-293. 10 See Lapidge, “Life of St. Oswald,” 53-55 for text and translation. 11 Ibid., 55. 12 Ibid., 56. 13 Alan Kennedy, “Bythtnoth's Obits and Twelfth-Century Accounts of the Battle of Maldon,” 59. 45 of their questionable reliability, these accounts of the battle have been taken into consideration in discussions on the historical details of the battle and used to support various interpretations of the poem. In addition to Byrhtnoth’s obituaries, there are five sources recounting the battle at Maldon in varying degrees of detail. John of Worcester’s Chronicle of Chronicles, written in the third decade of the twelfth century, adds several details to the accounts of the battle that are not found in any of the surviving versions of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, and which may be taken from versions of the
Chronicle that John of Worcester used as sources but which are now lost.14 John of Worcester names the leaders of the Danes who attacked at Ipswich and then Maldon as Justin and Guthmund, son of
Steita, and he places the decision to pay tribute to the Danes with ealdormen Æthelweard and Ælfric in addition to Archbishop Sigeric. Writing between 1129 and 1154, Henry of Huntingdon is known to have used a version of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle which was similar to version E as the source for the tenth century events in his History of the English, and his account follows the CDE and F version of the
Chronicle quite closely, although he adds the detail that Byrhtnoth gladiis cæsus occubuit, et phalanges ejusin perniciem redactæ sunt [was killed and cut down by swords, and his troops were driven back and destroyed].15 The History of the Kings was written in the fifth decade of the twelfth century and is attributed to Symeon of Durham; it uses John of Worcester's Chronicle of Chronicles as a source and varies little from that text. The Liber Eliensis, completed between 1169 and 1174, provides the most detailed account of Byrhtnoth’s life and death. It accords with the Chronicle of Chronicles in listing
Justin and Guthmund as the leader of the Danes since the Chronicle was used as a source for the Liber
Eliensis, and adds that four years earlier at Maldon Byrhtnoth had destroyed a troop of Danish raiders whose return in 991 was in part motivated by a desire for avenging that defeat. While this story is possibly true, it is also feasible that its inclusion was motivated by a desire to increase Byrhtnoth’s 14 Ibid., 71. 15 See Kennedy, “Byrhtnoth’s Obits,” 63, for text and translation. 46 reputation, for he was a great benefactor of the abbey at Ely.16 Again it is unlikely that we will ever know with certainty the extent to which this account is reliable as a historic source.
Both the Liber Eliensis and the Ramsey Chronicle include a further detail to the story of
Byrhnoth’s last stand at Maldon in describing how, on the way to the battle, Byrhtnoth and his troops asked for food and shelter at Ramsey Abbey but were turned away on the basis that it could not afford to feed so many men. Rather than choose to dine with a select few of his closest retainers while the majority of his troops went hungry, Byrhtnoth decided to fast with his soldiers. Upon coming to Ely, however, fasting proved no longer necessary, for the Abbot there generously provided provisions to
Byrhtnoth and all his troops. It could be argued that it seems unlikely that the Ramsey Chronicle would include a detail which cast a negative light on their community, and that this attests to the veracity of the tale, but Kennedy points out that the Ramsey account attempts to lessen the negative connotations of their refusal to feed a whole army by questioning the motivations of Ely for doing so. In any case, the Abbots named at both locations, Ælfsige at Ely and Wulfsige at Ramsey, could not have been abbots before 996 and 1006, respectively, casting doubt on the historical accuracy of those accounts, though perhaps the similarities in the two stories point to some historical common source which is now lost.17 However, Kennedy refers to the observations of E. A. Freeman, “an early sceptic,” who noted classical and biblical overtones in the story of the interaction between Byrhtnoth and the abbot at
Ramsey.18 Kennedy also cites superficial similarities between Byrhtnoth’s insistence on partaking of hospitality only if it were also extended to all of his soldiers, and tales of Alexander taking the same stance, as well as with the biblical story of Gideon and his soldiers at Succoth. Though not overt, the
16 According to the Liber Eliensis, Byrhtnoth granted to Ely several estates and other properties, gifts of gold and silver, two golden crosses, elaborately woven cloak borders, and fancy gloves, in order that he might be buried there. The Liber Eliensis also mentions a tapestry detailing Byrhtnoth’s deeds which was presented to Ely by Byrhtnoth’s widow, Ælfflæd, who also made other bequests to Ely after Byrhtnoth’s death. 17 Kennedy, “Obits,” 73. 18 Ibid., 73. 47 similarities are enough to cast further doubt upon the historical veracity of both the Ely and Ramsey accounts of Byrhtnoth’s pre-battle movements and, by extension, upon the other details contained in those chronicles.
Rarely, however, are the historical and annalistic accounts of the battle of Maldon considered without reference and comparison to the poetic fragment which describes the battle in a detailed play by play. The very qualities that make the poem an ideal subject for the transformation into film have led scholars to treat the poem as another documentary source, and the debate surrounding its historicity has continued past the millennial anniversary of the actual battle. Since the poem provides a vividly descriptive account of the battle, it has often been used to flesh out the more documentary accounts; conversely, the documentary accounts are cited as evidence of the historical accuracy of the poem.
In the introductory material to his 1936 edition of the poem, E. D. Laborde includes specific details from the poem in the section on “The Story of the Battle,” treating them as equal to those which are found in the chronicle and annalistic accounts. Laborde states that “[t]he poet’s manner and the nature of the poem itself lead the reader to the conviction that the persons mentioned in the poem are undoubtedly historical,” but this statement also seems to apply to other aspects of the poem and it is a viewpoint that has been held by several other early scholars, including E.V. Gordon and the historian
F.M. Stenton.19 Based solely on the style of the poem, Laborde assumes a date of composition for the poem shortly after the action it describes, for “[a] poet whose feelings ran so high over the events with which he deals would not have been likely to bottle up those feelings for years.”20 In his 1937 edition of the poem, E.V. Gordon states, “[m]any of the details cannot be checked, but the poem gives the impression of being the work of a man well-acquainted with the topography of the battlefield, the
19 E.D. Laborde, Byrhtnoth and Maldon, 9. 20 Ibid., 72. 48 character and the history of the English leaders, and all the events of the battle.” 21 This statement is typical of early responses to the poem, insinuating the familiarity of the poet with the battle while avoiding making an outright assertive declaration through the use of the word “impression.” While
Gordon acknowledges that there is no independent and reliable verification for the events described in the poem, he still believes that “[t]he poem is the most important record of the battle: it is the only detailed account, and, except for the brief notice in Chronicles CDEF under 991, it is the only one that is generally trustworthy.”22
The passionate yet straightforward narrative of the poem convinced Laborde of the possibility that the poet might have been an eyewitness to the battle. Although he acknowledges that the phrase gehyrde ic [I heard] could be evidence against the first-hand nature of the poem, he does not entirely dismiss the idea that it could simply be a rhetorical device or an indication that the eyewitness poet was otherwise engaged when that particular event was taking place.23 If the poet were present at the battle,
Laborde speculates that he must have been wounded and later recovered, for if he had been one of the group who fled following Godric, he would not have written so passionately about the courage of those who stayed. This conjecture ignores the possibility that in the unlikely event of the poet’s participation in the battle, his condemnation of those who fled may have also been directed at himself. Gordon explicitly denies the possibility that the poet was present at the battle, citing gehyrde ic as evidence that the poet was not there in spite of the phrase’s status as a trope. The phrase itself provides little evidence one way or the other for the poet’s presence at the battle of Maldon; a warrior present at the battle who also happened to be a poet would have been as likely to make use of standard poetic conventions as not while writing his account. While Laborde sees what he interpreted as a passionate depiction of a heroic
21 E.V. Gordon, The Battle of Maldon, 5. 22 Ibid., 5. 23 Donald Scragg, ed., “The Battle of Maldon,” in The Battle of Maldon AD 991, l. 117. 49 last stand as evidence of the poet’s presence at the battle (seemingly ignoring the fact that the poet could have had a vivid imagination), Fred Robinson sees the poem as “a long, thoughtful account which takes the measure of its subject and celebrates with artful restraint that which is most significant in it.”24 He argues for a date of composition for the poem at least ten years after the battle, stating that
“[s]uch details and such art [as found in the poem] do not suggest a hasty improvisation soon after the event or a versified dispatch from the battlefield; they bespeak a poem wrought and revised over a considerable period of time by a poet whose moral judgment is undisturbed by the passions that usually excite the minds of men who assess a massacre by predatory foreigners soon after the event.”25
Although the evidence that Gordon cites against the poet’s presence at the battle is not strong, and
Robinson’s assessment of the date of composition of the poem is based on the same evidence that led
Laborde to the opposite conclusion, it is now generally accepted that the poet was not present on the battlefield, mainly because of the unlikelihood that a skilled, literate poet, possibly a monk, would have participated in battle.
However, the impression of truthfulness and historical accuracy that the poem made on Laborde and other early scholars of The Battle of Maldon is one that continues to influence readers in spite of the ongoing debate over its veracity. George Clark observes that “[s]wept along by the poem’s truth, students of the period have seen the poet as representative of the Anglo-Saxon Associated Press and have gratefully accepted the poem’s detail, realism, and artistic honesty as evident of its contemporaneity with the event.”26 Because the poem sounds historical and is based on actual events, critics and students alike have tended to view it as a relatively reliable source in spite of the unknowability even of the poem’s date of composition. Edward B. Irving even goes as far as calling the
24 Fred C. Robinson, “Some Aspects of the Maldon Poet's Artistry,” 32. 25 Ibid., 31. 26 George Clark, “Maldon: History, Poetry, and Truth,” 73. 50 poem “a fragment of medieval journalism,” a description based on what he sees as “a powerful sense of verisimilitude” which was lacking in works that were more straightforward examples of conventional eulogy or patriotic propaganda.27 Following the tendency of early scholars of the poem to treat it as a reliable historical account of the battle, historian F.M. Stenton does little more than paraphrase the poem when he describes what happened near Maldon in August of 991 in Anglo-Saxon England, long regarded as the definitive history of the titular culture, first published in 1943. Stenton states that the battle at Maldon would not stand out from the numerous other Viking raids that took place in the late tenth and early eleventh centuries if not for the poem, and he makes no mention of the Liber Eliensis or the Vita Oswaldi as the other detailed accounts of the battle, choosing to rely solely on the poetic account for the details that he presents as fact in his historical work. The vivid and straightforward style of the poem, combined with the fact that it is based on an event that did take place, has tempted historians as well as students of Old English into believing that the events it relates took place as described. In the brief accompanying introductory essay to his Homecoming of Beorhtnoth
Beorhthelm’s Son, J.R.R. Tolkien acknowledges that the Liber Eliensis is “largely unhistorical,” but he treats details found in the poem as fact.28 Like Stenton, he uses the poem as a source for his brief summary of the events of the battle, and describes Byrhtnoth’s decision to allow the vikings to cross the river as an “act of pride and misplaced chivalry” based on his interpretation of ofermod in an uncomplimentary light, rather than on any definite historical evidence that it was a poor decision. 29
This belief in the accuracy of the details described in the poem is not universally shared, however, and a backlash against the easy acceptance of the poem as a largely historical document occurred as some scholars began to focus on the literary aspects of the poem in the mid-twentieth
27 Edward B. Irving, Jr., “The Heroic Style in The Battle of Maldon,” 458. 28 J.R.R. Tolkien, “The Homecoming of Beorhtnoth Beorhthelm's Son,” 123. 29 Ibid., 122. 51 century. Michael J. Swanton states that “[c]learly the poem cannot be considered an historical poem in the sense that the poems from the Chronicle are historical poems, concerned to record significant events with veracity and a relevant understanding of perspective and the larger issues involved;” he sees the elements of the poem which allude to a grand heroic age as imbuing the reader’s reaction to the poem “with a sense of falseness, and an inability to accept an unequivocally realistic view.” 30 In addition, various scholars point out The Battle of Maldon’s similarities to other heroic works such as the Óláfsdrápa and the Bjarkamál and its harking back to a Germanic warrior ethic which was anachronistic by the late tenth century.31 The general shift to a discussion of the poem as a literary rather than a historical artifact is by no means universal, however, and further studies from diverse fields such as military history and geology attempted to assess to what extent the battle as it is described in the poem would have taken place.32
A.N. Doane claims that the tendency of scholars to dichotomize the issue of historicity in The
Battle of Maldon – to view the poem as either historical or literary – is simplifying what he sees as “a three-sided issue: (1) the poem’s relation to some actual outside event, (2) the poet’s technical and aesthetic procedures in presenting his understanding of that event, (3) the assumptions which underlie those procedures, both conscious and unconscious.”33 These issues, he argues, should lead us to ask more than just whether or not the poem is historical, and to delve further into the assumptions, intentions, and purposes of writing that is historical in the way that The Battle of Maldon is historical.
30 Micheal J. Swanton, “The Battle of Maldon: A Literary Caveat,” 442, 450. 31 For detailed discussions of the similarities between The Battle of Maldon and other heroic writing, see B.S. Phillpots, “The Battle of Maldon: some Danish Affinities,” 172-90; J.B. Bessinger, “Maldon and the Óláfsdrápa: A Historical Caveat,” 23-35; Rosemary Woolf, “The Ideal of Men Dying with their Lord in the Germania and in The Battle of Maldon,” 63-81; Roberta Frank, “The Ideal of Men Dying with their Lord in The Battle of Maldon: Anachronism or Nouvelle Vague,” 95-106; Roberta Frank, “The Battle of Maldon and Heroic Literature,” 196-207. 32 See, for example, Warren A. Samouce, “General Byrhtnoth,” 129-35; O.D. Macrae-Gibson, “How Historical is The Battle of Maldon?” 89-107; George and Susan Petty, “A Geological Reconstruction of the Site of the Battle of Maldon,” 127-58. 33 A.N. Doane, “Legend, History and Artifice in The Battle of Maldon,” 40. 52
Instead of attempting to define to what extent The Battle of Maldon is historical and to what extent it is literary, Doane acknowledges that in the late tenth century, “historical and fictive narrative are not markedly distinct,” and proposes the definition of a category of narrative which is deemed “legendary,” and which includes such diverse styles of writing as poetry, history, encomium, and hagiography.34 He asserts that “[t]he legendary method is on its surface historical, and all narrative claims to be historical, since fiction has little status,” and that writing of all kinds “refer[s] to an inner world of ideal patterns
[...] informing outward events.”35 Doane states,
[w]hat follows, then, assumes, initially on the basis of the unique qualities of its style and structure, and on a consideration of the age in which it was composed, that Maldon, while utilizing the material of a past heroic age, and casting a nearly contemporary event in an antique mold, has as its purpose, or motivating force, an explication of larger issues than the literal ones that exercise the heroes of the poem, as their struggle in a moment of time and fragment of space becomes a simulacrum of all worldly struggles. 36
This argument is later echoed by scholars of medieval film who see filmmakers using material from a past age as a mirror and means of working through contemporary events which are transformed into a universal mode. In the same way that “the poet is able to use this expression of the old, ideal, purified, idealized, politicized, identified with the forces of justice and order as a model of good action in the secular world par excellence,” modern filmmakers make use of medieval themes and stories to model right action or explore contemporary problems.37 As Craig Davis puts it, “The Battle of Maldon can be read both as a reflex of archaic tradition and as a tool of contemporary cultural action, one which adapts inherited forms – or some of them – to pressing, though perhaps somewhat sensitive, even ambiguous purposes.”38
The debate over which aspects of the poem could be historically accurate continues up to and
34 Ibid., 42. 35 Ibid., 42, 43. 36 Ibid., 43. 37 Ibid., 56. 38 Craig R. Davis, “Cultural Historicity in The Battle of Maldon,” 164. 53 beyond the millennial anniversary of the battle. John Scattergood argues that although the poem may not be an accurate source for the detailed occurrences of the battle, “there is possibly an alternative way of looking at the poem which gives a little more importance to the historical context.” 39 Scattergood cites literary scholars of the poem such as Rosemary Woolf and N.F. Blake who argued for a written source for the poem (the Bjarkamál and the Vita Oswaldi, respectively) rather than an experiential source, but disagrees with the extent to which they deny the historical accuracy of the poem. However,
Scattergood proposes a different kind of historicity for the poem than that propounded by earlier scholars like Laborde and Gordon. Instead of viewing the poem as a journalistic description of the battle, Scattergood proposes that it be read within a specific historical context as the condensation of several issues which occupied the consciousness of the people of England during Æthelred’s reign, namely “what is it that makes a good leader, especially a good war-leader; whether it is better to confront the Vikings with military force or to pay them tribute; and whether it is better to fight battles through to the bitter end and risk one’s life or to ensure safety by flight.”40 As evidence for his interpretation of the poem, Scattergood references several entries in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle for the three decades following the battle of Maldon which imply in various degrees of explicitness “that the
English leadership was considered to be irresolute and panicky.”41 According to the Anglo-Saxon
Chronicle, ealdorman Ælfric fled from battle in 992 after having warned the enemy of the impending
English defence, and feigned illness in 1003 so as to avoid battle; in 1009, ealdorman Eadric and other leaders again fled from battle. Scattergood points out the stark contrast between the behaviours of these two leaders with Byrhtnoth’s unwavering leadership in 991, suggesting that the poem was written in response to the later actions of English ealdormen in the face of Viking attacks. In contrast to the
39 John Scattergood, “The Battle of Maldon and History,” 15. 40 Ibid., 16. 41 Ibid., 16. 54
Chronicle entries for the battle of Maldon which offer no editorial commentary on Byrhtnoth’s actions as a war-leader, the later Chronicle entries which Scattergood cites denigrate the actions of Ælfric,
Ealdric, and any other leaders who show cowardice, reluctance, or lack of skillful leadership. The disparity between the entries concerning Maldon and those of later battles may point to an increasing frustration on the part of the chroniclers, as representative of the English people, at the failure of their leaders to defend against the increasing number of Viking raids. Scattergood argues that the poetic
Battle of Maldon is also evidence of this frustration and a desire for more leaders, like the Byrhtnoth described in the poem, who will stand up to the Vikings even in the face of overwhelming odds.
Scattergood therefore focuses on a positive interpretation of Byrhtnoth’s actions, glossing over the issue of ofermod: “Byrhtnoth loses the battle and an argument can be made that his generalship was at fault; but the poet in no way concentrates on this, and, in fact, he makes Byrhtnoth epitomise many of the most desirable qualities of a war leader – qualities evidently lacking in certain of his contemporaries.”42
Scattergood then refers to the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle entries which reference the payment of tribute to the Danes immediately following the entry for the battle of Maldon, implying by juxtaposition that the two events are causally linked. This loss at Maldon did not lead to a consistent policy regarding such payments, however, and Scattergood argues that the poet is making a case for policy to follow Byrhtnoth’s example in refusing to pay tribute, stating that “[t]he poet must have known that tribute was eventually paid in 991.”43 This argument seems to imply that either Byrhtnoth’s loss and the subsequent payment of tribute was common knowledge, or that the poet had access to the
Chronicle entries which mention the payment. If he is taking into account events listed in the Anglo-
Saxon Chronicle occurring as late as 1012, the date of composition of the poem that Scattergood 42 Ibid.,18. 43 Ibid., 20. 55 implies could not have been much earlier than 1020; however, the commentary in the later Chronicle entries may be indicative of a cultural climate which had begun to manifest much earlier. Scattergood concludes:
The poem may not be historical in the accuracy of its details, but it seems to me to belong to the years before the reign of Cnut and to be essentially propagandist. The poet defines how, in his opinion, the Danes should be opposed. His attitude is clear: he believes in military opposition, a refusal to pay tribute, decisive leadership and a determination to see battles through to the end. By giving a heroic account of the stand made by Byrhtnoth and his faithful followers against the Vikings the poet is, in artistic terms, defining a policy, suggesting a course of action. That the battle was lost he regrets, but, one feels that he thought that it was at least lost with honour.44
In viewing the poem as a propagandistic work which aims to influence the attitudes and actions of the English in the face of repeated Viking raids, and which is reflective of the general public attitude of the time that the poem was written as opposed to the time of the battle of Maldon, Scattergood concurs with theories of medieval film which see them less as accurate portrayals of historical events and more as the reflection of the filmmakers’ and the public’s attitudes towards current events. There is, of course, a difference in scope in the time delay between films depicting history from five hundred to a thousand years ago and a poem which was written within two decades of the event it describes.
W.G. Busse and R. Holtei reach a conclusion similar to Scattergood’s assertion that the poem is a commentary on current events and a description of the behaviours that English leaders should be exhibiting when faced with Viking raids, but they arrive at this conclusion from a different perspective, through the lens of the portrayal of heroism in the poem. Busse and Holtei define heroism as the choice between two diametrically opposed options, one of which benefits society but has negative consequences for the individual, and the other of which is personally beneficial but does no societal good. According to Busse and Holtei, it is Byrhtnoth’s thegns who display heroic behaviours rather
44 Ibid., 22. 56 than Byrhtnoth himself, for Byrhtnoth never has any real choice in his actions. Busse and Holtei see the failure of the policy of paying the Vikings to stop the raids as evidence that Byrhtnoth could not truly have prevented the Viking attack by any means other than battle, and he cites the opening lines of the poem as evidence that Byrhtnoth had already made the decision to fight before the verbal exchange with the Viking messenger; therefore the opportunity to make payment was already outside the scope of the events depicted in the poem. Their second argument regarding the apparent choice Byrhtnoth makes to allow the Vikings to cross the river is less convincing. Busse and Holtei claim that since “nowhere does the poem state that the enemy had been superior to or outnumbered the English army from the beginning,” and since his men are ready and eager to fight, it is a foregone conclusion that Byrhtnoth will give them that fight by permitting the Vikings’ crossing.45 We do not, however, know how many lines are missing from the beginning of the poem, and what they might have contained; it can therefore not be assumed that there was no commentary on the size of the Viking fleet or the situation which preceded their encounter with Byrhtnoth’s troops.
Busse and Holtei’s argument for the positive heroism of the thegns in the poem is stronger. It is those who remain after Byrhtnoth’s death who have to make a true “choice between private interests and social normative standards,” and there are examples of both choices within the poem: Godric,
Godwine, and Godwig flee, choosing personal safety; Byrhtnoth’s retainers and other members of the fyrd [army] choose to stay and fight until the end.46 By placing the acts of heroism on the shoulders of both close and regular members of the fyrd, Busse and Holtei argue, the poet makes it possible for those who are reading or listening to the poem to identify with the heroes, thus encouraging heroic behaviour and the choice to put the communal over the personal good. As Busse and Holtei state, “the mastering of contemporary problems by means of literature is accomplished in Maldon in a very ingenious and 45 W.G. Busse and R. Holtei, “The Battle of Maldon: A Historical, Heroic and Political Poem,” 615. 46 Ibid., 616. 57 effective way: on the one hand, the poet makes it impossible for the recipients to see his poem as mere fiction; on the other hand, he succeeds in preventing an understanding of his text as merely chronicling historical events.”47 By depicting exemplary heroic behaviours within the realm of possibility not only for leaders but for all men, the poem becomes political propaganda designed to influence future behaviour in the face of increasingly recurrent Viking raids. If this were indeed the intention of the poet in combining heroic style with historical event, however, its efficacy could easily be challenged based on the outcome of the Viking raids and the eventual conquering of certain Anglo-Saxon kingdoms by foreign invaders.
In contrast to the arguments made by Busse and Holtei and Scattergood, John D. Niles claims that “[t]he mechanism [in The Battle of Maldon] is not propagandistic, but rather psychological, if one is justified in seeing this poem as helping to preserve a people’s sense of self-worth in the midst of very trying circumstances.”48 Rather than “the self-conscious broadcasting of information by persons seeking to win over public opinion to their side,” Niles sees The Battle of Maldon as an act of myth- making, “the embodiment of collective thinking.”49 It is a reflection of the general mood of the Anglo-
Saxon people and an attempt to come to terms with current circumstances, as well as a “justification of sorts for the unhappy policy they had adopted of buying off the Vikings with Danegeld.”50 The poem is not meant to inspire resistance to viking raiders in imitation of Byrhtnoth and his retainers – for their actions did not have a successful outcome – but to assure the Anglo-Saxon people that they could not have done any better and to provide reassurance that sins had been atoned for through the vicarious sacrifice of Byrhtnoth and his men. This is not to say that Byrhtnoth’s actions and his death were a deliberate sacrifice, but rather that the poet created the “literary equivalent of the social rite of
47 Ibid., 619. 48 John D. Niles, “Excursus: On Sacrifice and Atonement,” 242. 49 Ibid., 241. 50 Ibid., 243. 58 sacrifice” in The Battle of Maldon in order to assure the Anglo-Saxon people with every reading of the poem that their perceived sins and moral failings had been atoned for and therefore it was possible for their situation to improve.51
Paul Dean raises the important question of distinguishing between the different ways in which history is written: “[t]he criteria of the twentieth-century historian are not those of the tenth-century poet.”52 Thus we are faced with two contrasts: twentieth- and twenty-first-century thought versus tenth- and eleventh-century thought, and poetry versus history. Dean disagrees with scholars such as Michael
Hunter who “argued that [Anglo-Saxons] had very little sense of anachronism,” and sees all historical time periods, including those described in the Bible, as being part of one common narrative. 53 Dean claims that the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle and the works and translations of Alfred, Bede, Boethius, and
Orosius display, in various ways, a sophisticated understanding of the philosophy of history and an interest in further exploring how history is written and understood. The Battle of Maldon, however, is clearly not the same kind of history as the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, as we can see from the discrepancy between the poem and the Chronicle entries for the same event: “[b]oth the Chronicle and Maldon possess features which to us characterise historical narrative – located specifically in time and place, naming individuals – and Maldon especially assigns cause and motivation: but we may be obliged to admit that these very characteristics are also those which throw doubt on the poem's historical reliability.”54 The terse quality of the Chronicle lends it an air of reality to a modern audience, and in comparison the relatively embellished details of the poetic account have the opposite effect, even
51 Ibid., 244. 52 Paul Dean, “History versus Poetry: The Battle of Maldon,” 101. 53 Ibid., 101; For the Anglo-Saxons, “all the strands of the past, Roman, Germanic, biblical or native, were knitted into a single, comprehensive fabric. [...] The past was visualized in terms of a heroic, idealized present,” Michael Hunter, “Germanic and Roman Antiquity and the Sense of the Past in Anglo-Saxon England,” Anglo-Saxon England 3 (1974), 46., qtd. in Paul Dean, “History versus Poetry,” 101. 54 Dean, “History versus Poetry,” 102. 59 though explanations of causation and motivation are something that we expect from any contemporary historical work. Although the straightforward narrative style of the poem has been repeatedly cited as one of the reasons that it has been mined for historical details and intuitively read as history, its form has the opposite effect when it is compared to other Anglo-Saxon historical works. This is partly because, as Dean states, “[w]here the Chronicle approaches ‘objective’ fact in its laconic collocations of phrase and event, Maldon uses historical events as the basis for a design controlled by the artist’s imagination and his desire to create, not merely retail, the meaning of history.” 55 This statement could equally apply to any film based on a historical event or consciousness, but it still begs the question, what is the meaning of the history that it is creating?
Dean makes a distinction between the view of the poem as mainly propagandistic and one that acknowledges the effect of the poet’s art while still accepting it as history, albeit history that is written with a specific purpose which is different from that of the Chronicle and other historical accounts. The
Chronicle itself, however, is not solely composed of dry prosodic entries; it also contains several poems on various subjects.56 Although none of these poetic records (except, perhaps, The Battle of
Brunanburh) rivals The Battle of Maldon in terms of scope and skill, Dean points that “[t]here is, again, a clash of interests here: the more facts, the less art; the more comment, the less sense of time and place.”57 In this way, George Clark notes, “[h]istory and poetry become one.”58 These are the same issues and criticisms that history on film faces when it is compared, as a genre, to history written in an academic style. 55 Ibid., 104. 56 Dean cites poems “under the years 937 (battle of Brunanburh), 942 (Edmund’s conquest of Mercia), 959 (death of Eadrig), 973 (coronation of Edgar), 975 (deaths of Edgar and Cyneweard, and spread of paganism in Mercia), 979 (murder of Edward), 1011 (capture of archbishop Aelfheah), 1036 (capture and torture of Alfred), 1057 (prince Edward in England), 1065 (death of Edward the Confessor), 1075 (couplet on Earl Ralph’s marriage), 1076 (punishment of the Bretons), 1086 (death of King William) and 1104 (couplet on the woes of England)” (Dean, “History versus Poetry,” 104). 57 Ibid., 105. 58 Clark, “History, Poetry,” 70. 60
Robert A. Rosenstone sees a similar distinction between written history and history on film as that which is described by Dean in terms of chronicle and poetic history. Critics of history on film argue that the cinematic medium cannot contain the contradictory evidence and contrasting viewpoints which it is possible to explain in detail in written history, and that history on film reduces events with complex causes to a singular, straightforward narrative with a decided beginning, middle, and end.
However, it is important to remember “that history is never a mirror but a construction, congeries of data pulled together or ‘constituted’ by some larger project or vision or theory that may not be articulated but is nonetheless embedded in the particular way history is practised.”59 The history being practised in the Chronicle accounts of the battle of Maldon, while the most straightforward and factual, does not contain enough details or analysis of the events it describes to be considered in the same category as modern historiography. On the other hand, the poetic account of the battle, while providing more information about the motivations of the main participants (at least on the Anglo-Saxon side), is in a form that undermines its historical reliability, at least in the way that we understand historical reliability today. Trilling points out that “the poem (and its author) refuses the teleology of a linear historical narrative and opts instead for a more ambiguous mode of historical representation” in its combination of recent events with ancient heroic style.60 My screenplay also plays with that ambiguity, making truth statements in the paratext of the film, while reproducing the fictional details found within the poem and refraining from making decisions about some of the uncertain aspects of the poem (for example, the oft-debated meaning of the word ofermod). According to Trilling, “[i]f The Battle of
Maldon is an inauthentic witness to the events of 10/11 August 991, then it is also an important manifestation of the ways in which those events had meaning for a contemporary audience and in
59 Robert A. Rosenstone, Visions of the Past: The Challenge of Film to Our Idea of History, 49. 60 Trilling, The Aesthetics of Nostalgia, 130. 61 which we, as modern readers, are forced to perceive them today.”61 Though it is perhaps an impossible task, I attempt to reproduce for a modern audience the meanings that the poem had for an Anglo-Saxon audience, with the knowledge that the meanings assumed by filmgoers will be coloured by their previous interactions with representations of medieval history and heroism.
61 Trilling, The Aesthetics of Nostalgia, 132. 62
Chapter 3: Heroism in The Battle of Maldon
The Battle of Maldon is often upheld as a paramount example of the Germanic warrior ethic described by Tacitus in his Germania: the brave leader Byrhtnoth leads his troops into glorious battle, and upon his death his devoted retainers epitomize comitatus loyalty by following through with their vows to avenge their lord or die trying. Indeed, E.V. Gordon claimed that the poem “is the only purely heroic poem in Old English.”1 But is there such a thing as ‘pure heroism’? What is heroism? If The
Battle of Maldon is a heroic poem, who are the heroes and what are the heroic actions that make it so?
It was important for me to explore these issue before writing my screenplay in order to be able to characterize the main players in the poem, for the question of who the hero or heroes are in The Battle of Maldon is not as straightforward as it might seem. Are all of Byrhtnoth’s actions heroic? Is
Byrhtnoth’s heroism overshadowed by the actions of his heorðwerod after his death? How could the sense of Anglo-Saxon heroism from the poem make the transition onto film?
Sources of Heroism for The Battle of Maldon
A determination of who the hero or heroes of Maldon were depends as much upon the definition of heroism as it does upon the actions of the men described in the poem, and various descriptions of heroism have been used and even defined by scholarly analysis of The Battle of Maldon. However, one reference appears over and over again: the perceived similarities between Tacitus’ first-century
Germania and the heroic actions on the battlefield in The Battle of Maldon. The main point of resemblance lies with the prescriptive presentation of proper behaviour for a retainer whose lord has fallen in battle. Tacitus wrote, [i]am vero in omnem vitam ac probrosum superstitem principi suo ex
1 E.V. Gordon, The Battle of Maldon, 25. 63 acie recessisse [(m)oreover to survive the leader and retreat from the battlefield is a lifelong disgrace and infamy], which behaviour appears to be echoed by Byrhtnoth’s retainers as they state, one by one, their intention to avenge their fallen lord or die trying.2 Gordon acknowledges the similarities between
Maldon and both the Germania and the Norse Bjarkamál, but rather than seeing that as evidence that the Maldon poet was familiar with one or both of those works, Gordon claims that “[e]verything common to Maldon and the Norse poems can be explained as part of the common inheritance” dating back to the migration age and beyond to the time of Tacitus.3 Craig Davis accepts the connection between Tacitus and Maldon, claiming that “Maldon celebrates the antique ethos of loyalty to lord and honorable death against odds which has been traced back to the first-century AD,” and refers to W.P.
Ker’s assertion in 1908 that it “is hard to escape the conviction that the poem of Maldon, late as it is, has uttered the spirit and essence of the Northern heroic literature in its reserved and simple story, and its invincible profession of heroic faith.”4 Rosemary Woolf points out that although Tacitus is the most often mentioned proponent of the heroic ideal of men dying with their lord, several other classical scholars, both before and after Tacitus, also mention a similar ethos in their work on various tribes and peoples.5 However, Woolf explains, it is unlikely that Tacitus was writing from a completely historical stance, and very likely that he embellished and invented parts of his descriptive work. Even if Tacitus employed historical and ethnographical rigour, accurately depicting the traditions and behaviours of early Germanic tribes, Woolf argues that there is in any case no evidence that such traditions surrounding retainers’ obligations continued unbroken over the intervening nine hundred years until the 2 De Origine et Situ Germanorum, ed. J.G.C Anderson (Oxford, 1938), c. xiv “Moreover to survive the leader and retreat from the battlefield is a lifelong disgrace and infamy;” quoted in Rosemary Woolf, “The Ideal of Men Dying with their Lord in the Germania and in The Battle of Maldon,” 63. 3 Gordon, Maldon, 25. 4 Craig R. Davis, “Cultural Historicity in The Battle of Maldon,” 154; W.P. Ker, Epic and Romance: Essays on Medieval Literature, 57. 5 Woolf, “The Ideal of Men Dying with their Lord,” 64-66. Among the works that Woolf mentions are Caesar's De Bello Gallico; Sallust's Historiae (reconstructed from Plutarch's Life of Sertorius and Servius’s commentary on the Georgics); Ammianus Marcellinus's Historiae; and Agathias's continuation of Procopius's History of the Goths. 64
The Battle of Maldon. Although “the harking back to Tacitus by students of Anglo-Saxon history and literature has been shown to be fallacious, originating in the ethnic romanticism of German scholars in the late nineteenth century,” Woolf maintains that the similarities between the Germania and The Battle of Maldon are too great to be easily dismissed.6 However, these similarities “cannot be explained in terms of a pervasive historical or literary tradition.”7 In contrast to Gordon’s assertion of a traditional, unbroken heroic code, Woolf suggests that it is possible that The Battle of Maldon draws from a single work, and that the Bjarkamál is the most likely candidate, though the Germania cannot entirely be discounted.8
Roberta Frank points out, however, that a dating of the Bjarkamál early enough for it to have been used as a source for Maldon is far from certain, and that there is just as much, if not more, evidence for a twelfth century date of composition. Rather than attempting to locate an antecedent source for the heroic ideals depicted in The Battle of Maldon, Frank looks forward to the laws of Cnut
(A.D. 1020-23) regarding the responsibilities inherent in lord-retainer relationships; to the Encomium
Emmae Reginae (ca. A.D. 1039-42), which comments upon the loyalty of Sveinn Forkbeard’s retainers; to skaldic stanzas composed by Icelandic poets who were born around the end of the tenth century; to the Bjarkamál, assuming a later date of composition; to Arnórr Þorðarson’s ode to Haraldr harðráði; to the Chansons de geste, especially Gormont and Isembard; and even to verses penned in the thirteenth century by Snorri Sturlurson. She concludes that “[t]he ‘ideal’ that Rosemary Woolf saw as a ‘born again’ Germanic survival seems here – as in Maldon – the by-product of individual, voluntary Christian fidelity, of a loyalty that is only truly tested when its object has been physically extinguished.” 9 The
6 Woolf, “The Ideal of Men Dying with Their Lord,” 63. 7 Ibid., 76. 8 Bertha Phillpotts first suggested the Bjarkamál as a source for The Battle of Maldon in her 1929 essay, “The Battle of Maldon: some Danish Affinities,” Modern Language Review 24 (1929), 172-90, proposing that the Bjarkamál was brought to Anglo-Saxon England by Danish settlers. 9 Roberta Frank, “The Ideal of Men Dying with their Lord in The Battle of Maldon: Anachronism or Nouvelle Vague,” 65 sheer number and range of sources cited by Frank as having traits in common with Maldon would suggest that Gordon’s assumption of an ideal of heroism which was spread throughout several cultures around the time of The Battle of Maldon and later is more convincing than Woolf believes.
Definitions of Heroism
Critics tend to base their definitions of ‘heroism’ on The Battle of Maldon; those definitions are then used to support the arguments that the critics are making. Busse and Holtei attempt to avoid this kind of circular reasoning by providing an abstract definition of heroism which can be adapted to various socio-cultural circumstances. According to Busse and Holtei, “a heroic situation [...] is determined by a free choice between two ways of acting: the respective evaluation and consequences of these alternatives are diametrically opposed to each other.”10 Furthermore, the choice is most often between an act which will be beneficial for the community or one which will be personally advantageous. Indeed, this is the general definition of heroism provided by Franco, Blau, and
Zimbardo: “to act in a prosocial manner despite personal risk,” although they point out that such a simple definition “masks a number of subtle, interrelated paradoxes that arguably make heroism one
[of] the most complex human behaviors to study.”11 They elaborate on their definition, explaining the conditions which make heroism a “social activity:”
(a) in service to others in need – be it a person, group or community, or in defense of socially sanctioned ideals, or new social standard[s]; (b) engaged in voluntarily (even in military contexts, heroism remains an act that goes beyond actions required by military duty); (c) with recognition of possible risks/costs, (i.e., not entered into blindly or blithely, recalling the 1913 Webster’s definition that stated, “not from ignorance or inconsiderate levity”); (d) in which the actor is willing to accept anticipated sacrifice,
105. 10 W.G. Busse and R. Holtei, “The Battle of Maldon: A Historical, Heroic and Political Poem,” 615. 11 Zeno E. Franco, Kathy Blau, and Philip G. Zimbardo, “Heroism: A Conceptual Analysis and Differentiation Between Heroic Action and Altruism,” 1. 66
and (e) without external gain anticipated at the time of the act. 12
Klapp defines heroism even more abstractly, as “a person, real or imaginary, who evokes the appropriate attitudes and behavior. [...] [H]e is an ideal image, a legend, a symbol.”13 Heroes achieve this status through one or a number of various ways, though most often unintentionally, and according to Klapp they most often fit into one of six roles: “(1) the conquering hero, (2) the Cinderella, (3) the clever hero, (4) the delivering and avenging hero, (5) the benefactor, and (6) the martyr.”14 Franco,
Blau, and Zimbardo propose twelve categories of hero, including three categories that might be applied to Byrhtnoth and his retainers: “[m]ilitary and other duty-bound physical risk heroes, [p]olitical or military leaders, [and] [m]artyrs.”15
According to Roberta Frank, “[t]he alternatives in heroic literature are always diametrically opposed to one another. The natural, instinctual, agreeable course brings public disgrace; the learned, conditioned, disagreeable one, praise.”16 This definition of choice and free will echoes Irving’s earlier assumption that each warrior on the battlefield has the freedom to choose to stay and fight, or flee to safety, a choice which Irving believes “has been suggested all through the poem by the unusual way of defining courage as ‘not fleeing.’”17 Both Irving and Busse and Holtei assert that heroic action depends on the ability to choose one’s actions freely, and that since Byrhtnoth did not have any choice in his actions, the retainers are the only true heroes in The Battle of Maldon. Irving also places the onus of choice with Byrhtnoth’s retainers, and argues that “while the choice must be an individual one, heroism in Maldon still tends to be social and cooperative.”18 Thus while Byrhtnoth provides an example of 12 Ibid., 3. 13 Orrin E. Klapp, “The Creation of Popular Heroes,” 135. 14 Ibid., 136. 15 Franco, Blau, and Zimbardo, “Heroism: A Conceptual Analysis,” 4. The other categories are: civil heroes – non-duty bound physical risk heroes, religious figures; politico-religious figures, adventurer/explorer/discoverer, scientific (discovery) heroes, good samaritan, odds beater/underdog, bureaucracy heroes, and whistleblowers. 16 Roberta Frank, “The Battle of Maldon and Heroic Literature,” 202. 17 Edward B. Irving, Jr., “The Heroic Style in The Battle of Maldon,” 464. 18 Ibid., 465. 67 heroic conduct for his retainers to emulate, the retainers both imitate Byrhtnoth and inspire each other to heroic behaviour through speech and action.
Frank observes that the heroic traits implied in The Battle of Maldon can be found in literature spanning a wide time period and several cultures around the world, from the tale of Gilgamesh to those of feudal Japan. Frank therefore provides a definition of ‘hero’ specific to heroic literature: “a human being of passionate, unconquerable will, whose drive for glory on the battlefield raises him above the ordinary.”19 She elaborates on some of the qualities common to the heroic warrior code, including loyalty or duty to a lord, often obtained through the gift-giving process; bragging and boasting of one’s strength, skill, and courage; and witty, sarcastic, or joking remarks in the face of danger or death. All of these qualities are displayed at one point or another in The Battle of Maldon. Loyalty to one’s lord is one of the most prominent and most frequently discussed themes of the poem, although the historicity of the form it takes in the poem is much debated. There are several references to boasting and oath- making, and Byrhtnoth brags of his skill on the battlefield, describing himself as unforcuð [noble, of untainted reputation]; the Viking messenger’s demands for tribute are met with the sarcastic reply, [h]i willað eow to gafole garas syllan, / ættrynne ord and ealde swurd, / þa heregeatu þe eow æt hilde ne deah [(t)hey wish to give to you spears as tribute, / deadly point and old sword / war-gear which will be of no use to you in battle], and Byrhtnoth laughs gleefully moments before being cut down.20 To what
19 Frank, “Heroic Literature,” 199. 20 beot he gelæste / þa he ætforan his frean feohtan sceolde [he accomplished his vow when in the presence of his lord he needed to fight] (Maldon, ll. 15b-16); Gemun[aþ] þa mæla þe we oft æt meodo spræcon, / þonne we on bence beot ahofon, / hæleð on healle, ymbe heard gewinn [Remember times that we often spoke over mead, / when we, on benches, raised boasts / heroes in the hall, about hard war] (Maldon, ll. 212-214); Ic þæt gehate, þæt ic heonon nelle / fleon fotes trym [I vow that from here I will not / flee one foot] (Maldon, ll. 246-247b); he hæfde ðeah geforþod þæt he his frean gehet, / swa he beotode ær wið his beahgifan / þæt hi sceoldon begen on burh ridan, / hale to hame, oððe on here crin[c]gan, / on wælstowe wundum sweltan [nevertheless he had accomplished that which he promised his lord / that he had earlier vowed to his ring-giver / that they should both ride to the stronghold, / safe to home, or perish amongst the invading army, / on the battlefield to die of wounds] (Maldon, ll. 289-293). There are also several less direct references to vows; Maldon, l. 51a; Maldon, ll. 45-48; after being wounded, [s]e eorl wæs þe bliþra: / hloh þa modi man, sæde Metode þanc / ðæs dægweorces þe him Drihten forgeaf [(t)he earl was the happier: / he laughed, bold man, said thanks to the Creator / for this day’s good work that the lord had given him] (Maldon, ll. 146b-148). 68 extent, though, are these aspects of the poem part of a historic account, and to what extent are they the poet’s deliberate references to ancient literary conventions? If the details are factual, how did the poet know about them? Frank points out that it often takes time for a hero to accrue the layers of tradition that give him status, and that age adds weight to the importance of the heroic figure, either through his existence as a heroic figure in a long-standing heroic tradition (as with Gilgamesh or Beowulf) or through physical age (as with Byrhtnoth and Byrhtwold). The Maldon poet employs both these devices in his re-creation of the battle of Maldon as heroic literature, and, as Frank states, “[f]ew motifs or rhetorical ploys in The Battle of Maldon do not have an analogue somewhere in heroic literature.”21 In addition to oath- and gift-based loyalty, boasting, and joking, we also see that Byrhtnoth is unaffected by pain, continuing to fight after being wounded by a spear; warriors claim that they will not fleon fotes trym [flee one foot]; and an Anglo-Saxon audience would have been familiar with the implications of the phrase þa hwile þe he wæpen mæge / habban and healdan [as long as he is able his weapon / to hold and to keep].22 Additionally, the delay before battle when the warriors at Maldon are waiting for the tide to go out is a common trope in heroic literature, increasing the suspense and giving time to the heroes to reconsider and reaffirm the heroic decisions they have made which led up to this point. John M. Hill qualifies Frank’s thorough discussion of the particular aspects of the warrior code, claiming that “even the most accurate of them, the point concerning honor and ancestry, is at best a half-truth if considered only as something automatic – as a coded instinct, let us say, in a warrior world.”23
21 Frank, “Heroic Literature,” 201. 22 Sende ða se særinc suþerne gar / þæt gewundod wearð wigena hlaford. / He sceaf þa mid ðam scylde þæt se sceaft tobærst, / and þæt spere spengde þæt hit sprang ongean [Then the sailor sent a southern spear / such that the warrior lord was wounded; / he pushed against the spear with his shield, so that the shaft burst / and the spear split, so that is sprang away again] (Maldon, ll. 134-137); Maldon, l. 247a; Maldon, ll. 235b-236. An Anglo-Saxon audience would have recognized that this phrasal conjunction means that the warrior will soon die in battle. 23 John M. Hill, “Triumphant Lordship and New Retainership in The Battle of Maldon,” 111-112. 69
In spite of those aspects of The Battle of Maldon whose analogues can be found in numerous examples of the heroic literary tradition throughout the ages, Clark believes that “the uncritical importation into The Battle of Maldon of details from the heroic tradition can also blur our understanding of the poem.”24 He claims that this blurring leads to the assumption that the Anglo-
Saxons are doomed to lose the battle as soon as the Vikings are allowed to cross the river, since
“traditional heroic poetry favored desperate last stands in tight places against overwhelming odds.” 25
He feels such an interpretation is not supported in a close reading of the poem, which, he argues, reveals the true turning point of the battle to be the flight of Godric and his brothers, and of the troops who follow them. Clark believes that interpretations of the poem have been coloured by our knowledge of heroic conventions, rather than that the poet might intentionally have created the poetic account of the battle to fit within the bounds of a heroic tradition with which he would also have been familiar. He sees the influence that a centuries-old heroic tradition has on the instinctual understandings of heroic behaviour both to contemporary critics and contemporary audiences, but does not acknowledge the extent to which the Maldon poet would also have been surrounded and influenced by that tradition. Just as critics are affected by contemporary ideals of heroism, so too would the poet have been influenced by the context within which Anglo-Saxon ideals of heroism existed.
While Clark does not recognize certain aspects of the poem as falling within the heroic tradition, in other ways he sees the poet “express a [...] desire to rehabilitate or reassert a heroic ideal which is seen as having fallen into a regrettable decline.”26 In order to do this, Clark argues, the poet sets up the main conflict of the poem as “not between Anglo-Saxons and vikings but between heroism and cowardice.”27 The vikings are an unnamed and amorphous group of undifferentiated warriors,
24 George Clark, “The Battle of Maldon: A Heroic Poem,” 56. 25 Ibid., 56. 26 Ibid., 60. 27 Ibid., 58. 70 while the Anglo-Saxon cowards who flee the battle, thus instigating a more general flight of Anglo-
Saxon troops, are both named and described as the betrayers of the Anglo-Saxons. The function of the vikings is to provide a venue for the choice between cowardice and safety or heroism and danger. It is unclear, however, why Clark makes the seemingly-arbitrary distinction between those aspects of the heroic tradition which he sees the poet as deliberately promoting, and those which he believes are modern projections of classical heroism onto a medieval poem. Although Clark claims that we should not impose our interpretations of heroism onto The Battle of Maldon, he also states that “[t]he structure of The Battle of Maldon, which should win the approval of the strictest Aristotelian for its unity of time, place, and action, fully develops the poet’s intention to create a narrative which tests the validity of the heroic ideal against its harshest demands, and particularly against the possibility, the inevitability indeed, of human failure.”28 Which is it? Are we to be wary of seeing misleading analogies between
The Battle of Maldon and other heroic texts, thus imposing heroic interpretations onto the poem which were not originally intended; or are we to assume that the poet himself was firmly placing the poem within the heroic tradition of whose analogies we are to be wary? Is there a way to depict these ambiguities on film? I attempt to represent the epic heroic style in which the poet wrote by making as direct a translation as possible from poem to film in the battle scenes of my screenplay, but it seems inevitable that my own interpretations of heroism will make their way into my screenplay, and that the audience of the imagined film would also be influenced by previous expectations and experiences of heroism.
Ofermod and the Flawed Hero
Heroes are not always positive figures, and the tradition of the Aristotelian tragic flaw has also
28 Ibid., 60. 71 continued throughout the ages. As Frank states, “[t]here is something in heroic literature that does not like heroes. Praised and exalted, they are also denigrated and decried.”29 Frank sees the poet’s criticism of Byrhtnoth’s ofermod as an example of the conflicted nature of our relationship to heroes. According to Frank, a hero who is flawed “seems to fulfil a number of narrative and psychological needs: his faults please us (we would rather hear men blamed than praised), allowing us to recognize the meaning he embodies without having to imitate his freakish courage ourselves; his flaws encourage belief in his historical existence, while serving an apotropaic function (men must not be praised too much).” 30 If it is the case that Byrhtnoth’s ofermod is indeed meant to be a fatal flaw – and if this implies that he is not intended to represent an educational figure, instructing Anglo-Saxons on how properly to deal with repeated Viking raids – then we must also reconsider what the poet’s intentions were in choosing to include such a criticism in his creative work. On the other hand, Byrhtnoth’s tragic flaw might be intended to have the opposite effect, convincing the poem’s audience that it would be possible to defeat the Viking raiders only as long as Anglo-Saxon leaders avoided making the same mistakes that
Byrhtnoth did: the instruction is meant to teach what not to do, rather than to imitate Byrhtnoth without question. If Byrhtnoth had been a perfect hero, and still lost the battle, then Anglo-Saxon defeat in general might have been inevitable.
Tolkien is perhaps Byrhtnoth’s harshest critic, translating ofermod as “overmastering pride,” and likening Bythtnoth’s actions in allowing the vikings to cross the river as though he were “treat[ing] a desperate battle […] as a sporting match, to the ruin of his purpose and duty.”31
Why did Beorthnoth do this? Owing to a defect of character, no doubt; but a character, we may surmise, not only formed by nature, but moulded also by ‘aristocratic tradition,’ enshrined in tales and verse of poets now lost save for echoes. Beorhtnoth was chivalrous rather than strictly heroic. Honour was in itself a motive, and he sought it at 29 Frank, “Heroic Literature,” 203. 30 Ibid., 204. 31 J.R.R. Tolkien, “The Homecoming of Beorhtnoth Beorhthelm's Son,” 146. 72
the risk of placing his heorðwerod, all the men most dear to him, in a truly heroic situation, which they could redeem only by death. Magnificent perhaps, but certainly wrong. Too foolish to be heroic.32
No other scholars of The Battle of Maldon have judged Byrhtnoth so harshly, and even if they agree with Tolkien that Byrhtnoth was in fact not a ‘true’ hero, may have located the cause of his lack of heroism elsewhere than with his ofermod. However, Donald Scragg cites Gneuss, Cross, and Schabram as proving that ofermod must be interpreted in a negative light, and states that “Tolkien was undoubtedly right in regarding the term as pejorative.”33 Scragg also supports a disparaging interpretation of ofermod by referring to [s]e eorl wæs þe bliþra [(t)he earl was the happier] as a
Germanic manifestation of Greek hubris and echoing Irving’s assertion that “Byrhtnoth’s ofermod clearly bears some resemblance to Aristotelian hybris.”34 However, in contrast to Tolkien, Scragg argues that “Byrhtnoth’s heroism is not diminished by his ofermod or by his hubris, as we can see from the structure of the whole poem,” including the confident and contemptuous manner in which
Byrhtnoth replies to the viking threat, speaking on behalf of all his men on the battlefield, and his own avowed loyalty to Æthelred.35 Scragg argues that “ultimately the audience is called upon to admire the hero, commanding, fighting, and dying bravely with God on his lips,” and this image of the hero strongly resonates with the portrait of Byrhtnoth that I have created in my screenplay. 36
Ralph V.W. Elliott strongly opposes Tolkien’s interpretation of ofermod and his consequent stripping of the title of hero from Byrhtnoth’s name. Instead, Elliott agrees with Busse and Holtei that
Byrhtnoth did not make a real choice in allowing the vikings to cross the river: “Byrhtnoth’s decision is not the outcome of a moment’s Übermut; it is the last step in a series of events which necessitated some
32 Ibid.,146. 33 D. G. Scragg, “Introduction,” The Battle of Maldon, 38. 34 Maldon, l. 146b; Irving, “Heroic Style,” 462. 35 Scragg, “Introduction,” 39. 36 Ibid., 40. 73 action.”37 However, Elliott reaches the opposite conclusion to that of Busse and Holtei, seeing
Byrhtnoth’s response to the vikings’ lytignes [cunning]and subsequent, inevitable action of allowing them to cross the river as the source of his heroism: “[i]t may be an heroic ‘excess,’ as Tolkien calls it, that urges him to clear the way for the Viking hordes to cross the Blackwater to join battle, but it is a mark of the continuing strength of the Germanic heroic tradition in Maldon that there is no other way save obedience to the call of honor. ‘Magnificent perhaps, but certainly wrong’ misses the point: both
Hildebrand and Byrhtnoth court disaster magnificently, with their eyes wide open, and, according to their lights, rightly.”38 The cinematic Byrhtnoth of my screenplay does not accord with this aspect of
Elliott’s description, for I do not imply that the Anglo-Saxons were greatly outnumbered by the
Vikings, therefore leaving no reason to believe that the outcome was foreseeable when Byrhtnoth granted passage to the Vikings. However, Franco, Blau and Zimbardo make the important point that
“this moment of decision is often taken in complete aloneness, even if it is in the presence of others.”39
The Maldon poet is careful never to give us any deep insights into Byrhtnoth’s thoughts, and has left us with very few clues about what he was thinking before and during the battle, other than the ambiguous for his ofermode [because of his pride].40 Accordingly, there is no voice-over in the screenplay that provides the audience with a view into Byrhtnoth’s head, so his thoughts and attitude would largely be implied through the actor’s performance, the camera shot and angle, the lighting, the atmosphere, and the sounds in this scene. These factors would also influence the perceived importance of this decision: is it the turning point of the battle? Is it the brave decision of a bold leader which is later undermined by the flight of some cowards? Is it merely one bad decision in a series of unfortunate events?
37 Ralph W.V. Elliott, “Byrhtnoth and Hildebrand: A Study in Heroic Technique,” 57; original emphasis. 38 Maldon, l. 86a. In the poem the verb form is used: lytegian [to use guile, deceive]; Elliott, “Byrthnoth and Hildebrand,” 59. 39 Franco, Blau, and Zimbardo, “Heroism: A Conceptual Analysis,” 5. Original emphasis. 40 Maldon, l. 89b. 74
Many scholars locate the cause of the Anglo-Saxon defeat not with Byrhtnoth’s ‘oft-interpreted- as-flawed’ decision, based on a negative interpretation of ofermod, to allow the Vikings to cross the river, but with the cowardly flight of Godric and his brothers after Byrhtnoth’s death, which led to the subsequent retreat of a number of other warriors who thought that it was Byrhtnoth himself who was fleeing. George Clark is of this opinion, stating that “[t]he poem leaves no room for doubt on the cause of the English defeat, and that cause was not Byrhtnoth’s chivalry, folly, or pride.”41 He claims that the tendency to blame Byrhtnoth for the Anglo-Saxon loss stems from the exaggerated emphasis on the word ofermod in the poem that I have just described, whose meaning has been debated numerous times, with various contradictory conclusions. Clark argues that “[i]f we accept the orthodox gloss of ofermod in line 89 (either the “sin of pride” or “the fault of pride”) and also read lines 195 and 237-243 literally, we can only conclude that the poet has blundered into a logical contradiction.” 42 According to Clark, there cannot be two causes for the loss at Maldon: it is either Byrhtnoth’s sin of pride, or the flight of the troops instigated by Godric and his brothers. I do not, however, see why the Anglo-Saxon loss could not be attributed to a series of mistakes which only together turned fatal. In my screenplay, it is uncertain whether or not Byrhtnoth was guilty of ofermod in a negative sense; Godric, Godwine, and
Godwig are depicted in a harsher light.
Although Clark dismisses Gneuss’s interpretation of ofermod, it is Gneuss who has provided the most thorough discussion of the meaning of the word, and some scholars have thus considered the matter closed. According to Fred Robinson, “[t]hat ofermod means ‘pride’ and concedes a flaw in
41 George Clark, “The Hero of Maldon: Vir Pius et Strenuus,” 258. 42 Clark, “Hero,” 259. Line 195 reads, and manna ma / þonne hit ænig mæð wære [and more men / than it was at all appropriate]; lines 237b to 243 read, [u]s Godric hæfð, / earh Odda bearn, / ealle beswicene: / wende þæs formoni man, / þa he on meare rad, / on wlancan þam wicge, / þæt wære hit ure hlaford; / forþan wearð her on felda / folc totwæmed, / sclyldburh tobrocen [Godric / the cowardly son of Odda, has betrayed us all. / Too many men believed, when he rode away on the horse, / on the proud horse, / that it was our lord; / because of that, here on the field the folk divided, / the shield-wall was broken. May his actions come to naught, / that he here so many men caused to flee]. 75
Byrhtnoth’s judgment has now been established beyond serious doubt by Helmut Gneuss.”43 However,
Gneuss himself admits that “[he is] only too well aware that a great deal of what [he has] been saying in [his] article has had to remain tentative, and often qualified by conditional clauses.” 44 Nonetheless,
Gneuss summarizes five broad categories of meaning for ofermod:
1. pride, great pride, excessive pride, foolish pride, foolhardy pride; arrogance, haughtiness, disdain; overweening courage 2. overconfidence, superb self-confidence 3a. recklessness, rashness, rash courage, foolhardiness, Ger. Übermut (= high spirits, wantonness, exuberance?) 3b. over-courage, overboldness 4. great, high courage 5. magnanimity, greatness of heart, over-generosity45
After weighing the evidence proposed by the proponents of these definitions, Gneuss concludes that
“all the evidence points to pride; in particular:
1. ofermod (noun) can only mean “pride” in Genesis B, Instructions for Christians, and a glossary, i.e., wherever it occurs; 2. the phrase for his ofermode is found in Maldon and Instructions; 3. the OE adjective ofermod denotes “proud” in more than 120 instances; nowhere can it be shown to have a sense like “bold, courageous, magnanimous,” etc.; 4. the Old Saxon and Old High German equivalents of OE ofermod (noun and adjective) are always used with the sense “pride; proud” in extant written records; 5. there is no evidence whatsoever to prove that ofermod (noun) could have a signification like “recklessness,” “over-courage,” “great courage,” “magnanimity”; 6. the context in which ofermod appears in The Battle of Maldon makes it likely that the word is a term of criticism, if not of reproach; lytegian [to deceive, use guile] (l. 86) and alyfan landes to fela [to allow too much land] (l. 90) clearly point to an error of judgment committed by Byrhtnoð.”46
He acknowledges the criticism, later leveled by Clark, that most of the examples cited as evidence are
43 Fred C. Robinson, “Some Aspects of the Maldon Poet's Artistry,” 32. 44 Helmut Gneuss, “The Battle of Maldon 89: Byrhtnoð's ofermod Once Again,” 137. 45 Ibid.,119. 46 Ibid., 129-30. 76 from primarily religious rather than secular or heroic sources, and allows that certain polysemic words in Old English are closely enough related to ofermod that their meanings should also be taken into account, but he concludes that “on the whole, ‘pride’ with its various shades of meaning seems the best solution to a philological puzzle that had its origin almost a thousand years ago.”47 Gneuss then seems to ignore most of these “shades of meaning” in favour of the traditional interpretation of ofermod as the poet’s criticism of Byrhtnoth. However, Gneuss tempers this interpretation of the poet’s criticism of
Byrhtnoth with the admission that he agrees with the proposal put forth by Dorothy Whitelock and
Captain Samouce that if Byrhtnoth had not engaged the Vikings at Maldon, they would have left and attacked at another location. He therefore concludes that the poet was criticizing Byrhtnoth for the fact that although he “was employing the right tactics [he] did not, or not yet, have a fighting force sufficiently strong to carry through his plan.”48 Gneuss argues that, based on an estimated size of the
Essex fyrd [army] of 550 warriors and an assumption of a larger Viking force (which Gneuss admits cannot be verified), “it seems quite possible that Byrhtnoð’s men were in a very difficult, if not desperate, position as soon as the Vikings had been allowed to cross the brycg [bridge], and our poet’s ofermod becomes understandable, even though the ealdorman may have seriously hoped to be able to defeat the Vikings and thus to prevent them from further attacks.”49 Although Gneuss claims that the poet is criticizing Byrhtnoth with his use of the word ofermod, he also suggests that Byrhtnoth did not actually have a choice regarding whether or not to fight the Vikings – two seemingly contradictory claims.
Clark states that the lexicographical evidence from religious texts which Gneuss uses in his analysis of the term ofermod is not an accurate point of comparison upon which to base a negative
47 Ibid., 130. For example, modig (spirited, bold, brave, magnanimous OR impetuous, headstrong OR arrogant, proud); mod (heart, mind, spirit OR courage OR arrogance, pride OR power, violence). 48 Ibid., 133. 49 Ibid., 137. 77 interpretation of ofermod, and he contrasts Byrhtnoth’s behaviour with Anglo-Saxon understandings of pride and its effect on society: “[a] hierarchical society can readily understand superbia as expressing itself in actions and attitudes endangering the essential principle of social order.” 50 However, rather than threatening the social order, Byrhtnoth’s actions reinforce the proper hierarchy when “[he] takes his place in battle as his station in society requires, exercising his rightful and inescapable authority and acknowledging his subordination.”51 Thus Clark interprets ofermod – pride – when used in The Battle of Maldon as praise for Byrhtnoth, the opposite conclusion to that reached by Gneuss.
Clark points out that the evidence (that is, other examples of ofermod in the canon) which
Gneuss uses to support his interpretation of ofermod as ‘pride’ in a censorious sense “appear[s] almost exclusively in religious and theological texts where qualities the world praises frequently find themselves dispraised.”52 As Craig Davis explains, ofermod “is unequivocally associated with
Luciferian pride in biblical poems,” and it is to these texts that most scholars refer when searching for a gloss for ofermod, in part because most instances of ofermod- are found in religious texts.53 Clark also points out that ofer- is often used as a completely neutral intensifier, having no inherent positive or negative connotations. He concludes that it would be “bizarre” to exclude the possibility that the poet could have created a context in which ofermod had positive and honorific connotations.54 Davis explores this very possibility, asserting that ofermod in The Battle of Maldon “is neither hubris nor superbia,” and he claims as support for the argument against a solely unfavourable interpretation of ofermod the lines God ana wat / hwa þære wælstowe wealdan mote [God alone knows / who might wield [control] on the battlefield], which he believes indicate that Byrhtnoth is aware of the possibility
50 Clark, “Hero,” 280. 51 Ibid., 281. 52 Ibid., 277. 53 Davis, “Cultural Historicity,” 157. 54 Clark, “Hero,” 277. 78 that he could lose the battle.55 Davis maintains that Byrhtnoth’s praise of and thanks to God demonstrate his lack of personal pride. Furthermore, “[t]here is no such thing as too much mod in
Germanic tradition. Mod is a good thing, in whatever amount it can be mustered.”56 However, Davis stops short of proposing an entirely favourable interpretation of ofermod, arguing instead that the
Maldon poet himself intended for the word to be polysemous. It contains meanings that resonate with both the contemporary Christian world in which Byrhtnoth and the poet lived, and the traditional
Germanic epic poetic style in which the poet was writing: “[i]t is the compromise of a poet who could not fully reconcile different systems of value and eventuality, so chose instead to construct a double term capable of sharply divergent but related significations.”57
In all of these complicated attempts to deduce the significance of ofermod based on its occurrences in the canon of Anglo-Saxon writing and its context in the poem, few mention the possibility that the word was chosen not for its specific meaning, whether ambiguous or polysemous, but in order to fulfill the alliterative requirements of Anglo-Saxon verse. The poet may have chosen the word ofermod because it alliterates with eorl and ongan, and not because of its religious or other connotations.58 We will never know with certainty why the poet chose to use the word ofermod, but I nonetheless had to take it into account during the writing of my screenplay, and I chose not to provide a specific interpretation of the word. I do not translate it directly in the screen directions, but it is implied in the phrase “Byrhtnoth considers the proposition quickly, smiles, then turns to face his troops.”59 The meaning of ofermod in the screenplay thus rests on how the actor chooses to smile, and will remain as ambiguous as that smile.
55 Davis, “Cultural Historicity,” 159; Maldon, ll. 94b-95. 56 Davis, “Cultural Historicity,” 158. 57 Ibid., 161. 58 Maldon l. 89. Ða se eorl ongan for his ofermode... [Then the earl began because of his pride...] 59 See above, The Battle of Maldon: A Medieval Screenplay, 18. 79
Byrhtnoth’s Heroism
Ofermod is one of the most important determining factors in the question of Byrhtnoth’s heroism, but his words and actions in the poem, as well the context of the battle, also play a large role.
Clark points out that there is no evidence in the poem (other than that based on certain interpretations of ofermod as a fault) that a Viking victory was a foregone conclusion to the battle, for there is no indication that the Anglo-Saxon troops were greatly outnumbered. Although Helmut Gneuss cites
Anglo-Saxon Chronicle entries for 994 and 993 which count the Viking leader Unlaf’s ships at either ninety-three or ninety-four, Clark points out that the number of ships commanded by Viking raiders were much fewer according to Scandinavian sources, numbering from five to eleven ships. Although it is possible that the sizes of the Viking and Anglo-Saxon forces were mentioned in the lines lost from the beginning of the poem, it is also possible that if the poet claimed an overwhelmingly large number of Viking troops, he did this in order to more firmly situate The Battle of Maldon in a tradition of epic heroism wherein Byrhtnoth’s flaw of excessive pride is an essential aspect of his heroic character. In accordance with further evidence in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle that Viking raids before 994 were usually not made up of larger fleets, Clark suggests that “[t]he tribute paid in 991 may better reflect the weakness of English morale than the power of the viking fleet,” which implies that the poetic account of The Battle of Maldon was an attempt to boost that lowered morale.60 Instead of implementing a unified defense strategy and imparting a sense of agency to the Anglo-Saxon people, Æthelred showed a potential weakness by paying tribute, and the Anglo-Saxons began to lose faith in his leadership. The poem provides an alternative source of inspiration for strong military action.
For his estimation of the size of Byrhtnoth’s army, Clark looks both to the poem and to known
60 Clark, “Hero,” 262. 80 troop requirements for the fyrd. Clark claims that the fact that Byrhtnoth rad and rædde [rode and advised] and that the Vikings could not easily defeat the Anglo-Saxons even after manna ma þonne hit
ænig mæð wære [more men / than it was at all appropriate] flee following Godric and his brothers, implies that the Anglo-Saxon force was quite large.61 According to Gneuss, the fyrd would have consisted of between 550 and 2700 men, depending on whether one man were required for every five hides of land or for every one. Clark acknowledges that the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, perhaps the most reliable historical source, provides no information on the sizes of the opposing forces at Maldon, but claims that the Vita Oswaldi (ca. 995-1005) and Florence of Worcester’s Chronicle of Chronicles (ca.
1130; now attributed to John of Worcester, with Florence’s assistance) are “reasonably reliable authorities [who] suggest an essentially even contest with a high casualty rate on both sides and assess the battle as a hard-won victory for the Vikings.”62 Although this may be true, we must take into account the possible motivations for composing both the Vita Oswaldi and the Chronicle of Chronicles as well as the poetic account, and should be careful of assuming that these sources can be relied upon as support for each other as historical fact.
John D. Niles points out how The Battle of Maldon turned Byrhtnoth’s death “into a myth-like narrative of defiance, betrayal, loyalty, vengeance, and loss,” transforming the Anglo-Saxon defeat at
Maldon into an inspirational and educational tale as well as providing an explanation for the policies of payment of tribute which were adopted thereafter.63 He describes Byrhtnoth as the perfect example of charismatic leadership, which he defines as “the notion that personal devotion to inspirational teachers can have a key role in the process of cultural transmission that we call ‘education,’ particularly when those leaders suffer persecution, contumely, or death.”64 Niles asserts that Byrhtnoth’s encouragement
61 Maldon, l. 18.; Maldon, l. 195. 62 Clark, “Hero,” 263. 63 John D. Niles, “Maldon and Mythopoesis,” 466. 64 Niles, “Excursus,” 243. 81 of his troops at the beginning of the poem is evidence of his charismatic leadership through demonstrating proper battle technique to less seasoned members of the fyrd.65 While it is certainly possible that the less experienced members of the regular fyrd may have benefited from some on-site instruction, Byrhtnoth’s instructional actions could have been merely a narrative device employed by the poet as a way of describing a battle scene to an audience who may not have been familiar with military tactics.
Niles argues that Byrhtnoth’s function as a charismatic leader is fulfilled when his death is described in the poem, which then becomes the “literary equivalent of the social rite of sacrifice.” 66
Niles is by no means suggesting that The Battle of Maldon was equivalent to an actual ceremonial sacrifice, but rather that the psychological mindset of sacrifice can be a useful lens through which to read the poetic account of the battle. By placing the poem within a Christian narrative of sin and redemption, Byrhtnoth becomes a martyr whose sacrificial death benefits the greater Anglo-Saxon community “through a process of vicarious atonement.”67 This interpretation is dependent upon two factors: it requires that the Anglo-Saxon people see the Viking invasions as punishment for sin, and it requires a date of composition for the poem late enough that the poet would have been aware of the subsequent failure of Æthelred’s inconsistently-applied policy of buying peace with both tribute and violence. Niles argues that the Maldon poet is transforming deaths that have already happened into vicarious atonement in response to the sentiments most clearly displayed by Wulfstan in the Sermo
Lupi ad Anglos, who states that there was a great need for atonement by the Anglo-Saxon people: “[t]he logic of sacrifice affirms that such an act did not need to be repeated by other in the same terms. It did,
65 Ða þær Byrhtnoð ongan beornas trymian, / rad and rædde, rincum tæhte / hu hi sceoldon standan and þone stede healdan, / and bæd þæt hyra randan rihte heoldon, / fæste mid folman, and ne forhtedon na [Then there Byrhtnoth began to encourage warriors / rode and advised, showed heroes / how they should stand and hold that position / and bade that they their shields correctly hold / firmly with hands, and not be afraid]. (Maldon, ll. 17-21). 66 Niles, “Excursus,” 244. 67 Ibid., 249. 82 however, need to be remembered by others, so that the full psychological effect of this act of
‘martyrdom’ could be felt again and again, whenever this poem was read or voiced aloud.”68 Although
Byrhtnoth appears to have been a religious man, based on his close connections to Ely, I am not convinced that The Battle of Maldon describes his martyrization. It is more likely that the poem was meant to inspire right behaviour in the face of Vikings attacks to boost morale through the creation of an heroic warrior for people to admire and aspire to imitate.
The Heroism of the Loyal Retainers
It is not, however, necessarily Byrhtnoth who fulfills the role of heroic warrior. Busse and
Holtei evaluate three decisive moments in The Battle of Maldon based on their criteria for heroism:
Byrhtnoth’s decision regarding paying tribute to or fighting the Vikings; whether or not to let the
Vikings cross the river; and the retainers’ choice between remaining to fight after Byrhtnoth’s death or fleeing the battle. Busse and Holtei come to the conclusion that the only truly heroic actions in the poem are the personal decisions made by the members of Byrhtnoth’s comitatus and the fyrd to stay and attempt to avenge the death of their lord: “[h]eroism in Maldon is not communicated through the literary type of the heroic superman, but rather through members of the thegn class: it is by thegns, who are not only literary but also historical persons most probably known by name and referred to within their social context, that the appeal of the poem is greatly enhanced.” 69 It is not the martyrization of single man or charismatic leader which hopes to inspire people to action, but the more easily relatable thegns who are meant to be imitated.
Having interpreted ofermod as a “severe criticism” of Byrhtnoth on the part of the poet, Tolkien argues that, in light of this criticism, “the loyalty of the retinue is greatly enhanced” and “[i]n their 68 Ibid., 251. 69 Busse and Holtei, “A Historical, Heroic and Political Poem,” 616. 83 situation heroism was superb.”70 Robinson also sees Byrhtnoth’s decision to allow the vikings to cross the river as a mistake brought on by the sin of ofermod, and this fact only increases the impressiveness of the retainers’ loyalty after Byrhtnoth’s death: “[t]heir decision to die out of loyalty to Byrhtnoth appears all the more admirable when we realize that they knew he had erred seriously in his leadership of them.”71 This loyalty that they display is, however, no more than the loyalty that Byrhtnoth shows towards Æthelred: “[Byrhtnoth] expects no more from his troops than his own lord expects from him.”72
Woolf interprets the actions of Byrhtnoth’s retainers through the lens of heroic poetry, insisting that The Battle of Maldon is more fiction than fact in terms of the heroism it describes. She highlights the discrepancies between the practical world of the Germanic warrior as described by Tacitus – a world in which the lord to whom you are loyal is also the source of your livelihood and the centre of a life of warfare and feasting, and in which “the resolve of the men to die with their lord would make some sense in purely practical terms” - and the world of late tenth century Anglo-Saxon men, whose noble youth “expected to be given land once they were of age” and who would therefore have been largely self-sufficient.73 According to Woolf, “[i]t is inconceivable that such a company of noblemen in reality had their lives materially and emotionally focussed upon Byrhtnoth: this is a moving invention of the poet’s.”74 She insists that The Battle of Maldon is “poetic fiction and not historical reality,” and should therefore not be considered a source for factual information about the state of the Anglo-Saxon lord-retainer relationship in the tenth century.75 Another practical consideration that Woolf points out is the fact it would not be a politically or practically sound expectation that an ealdorman’s best retainers
70 Tolkien, “Homecoming,” 147. 71 Robinson, “Artistry,” 32. 72 Fred C. Robinson, “God, Death, and Loyalty in The Battle of Maldon,” 434. 73 Woolf, “The Ideal of Men Dying with Their Lord,” 67. 74 Ibid., 68. 75 Ibid., 68. 84 would die on the battlefield with their lord, for who then would be left to defend the land against invaders and internal enemies who would be sure to attack? The Battle of Maldon also differs from most stories of vengeance since Woolf defines the lord-retainer relationship thus:
The ties of loyalty that bound a retainer to his lord might require him to endure voluntarily all degrees of self-sacrifice, ranging from physical hardship to death. A retainer should share disaster as willingly as share prosperity with his lord; if, for instance, his lord is exiled he should go into exile with him. A retainer should protect his lord from attack even if he has to risk death or die in order to accomplish this successfully. If his lord is killed, the retainer should take vengeance on the killer, again if need be at the cost of his own life, and such vengeance is particularly compelling if the alternative is to give aid to the killer by entering his service.76
In the world of tenth-century Anglo-Saxon England, it is not likely that there were any such compelling circumstances, and though the heroic, self-sacrificing retainer makes a powerful story, speaking of the retainers’ demise in heroic terms may merely have been a way of recovering some meaning for their heart-breaking deaths.
Niles sees the glorification of the suicidal loyalty displayed by Byrhtnoth’s retainers as an interpretation which is later applied under the influence of the nineteenth-century attitudes towards valour in the face of overwhelming odds. He views this idealization as a symptom of the Balaklava syndrome, “in that it calls to mind the ideology that provided a justification for the heroic sacrifices and the sometimes brutal expenditures of human life that were attendant upon nineteenth-century imperial politics.”77 The impulse towards suicidal loyalty to one’s lord is not inherent in the poem itself, but instead stems from the ideologies of those who were analyzing the poem several hundred years after it was written; they overlooked or ignored several pieces of evidence within the poem which do not support the ideal of suicidal loyalty. First, we are missing the end of the poem and therefore cannot know with certainty that all of Byrhtnoth’s retainers who set out to avenge his death died in the process,
76 Woolf, “The Ideal of Men Dying with Their Lord,” 72. 77 Niles, “Mythopoesis,” 461. 85 though I do imply this in my screenplay. It is likely that some of the Anglo-Saxons who stayed to finish the battle also survived the battle. Second, even though their chances for victory were greatly diminished after the flight spurred by Godric, Godwin, and Godwig, it was by no means certain that the
Anglo-Saxons would be defeated; the warriors who remained to avenge their lord could not know for sure that they would lose. Third, of the warriors who remain on the battlefield, only Byrhtwold expresses an outright wish to die.78 The Maldon poet explains that hi woldon þa ealle oðer twega, / lif forlæt[a]n oððe leofne gewrecan [Then they all wished to do one of two things, / to leave life or to avenge their beloved lord] but Niles argues that oðer twega should be interpreted as “second of two” rather than “one of two:” the warriors wish to avenge their lord, and they know that death is a possible result of this undertaking, but it is not their primary goal.79 Niles also points out that vengeance might not have been seen as a noble goal to modern readers, and loyalty to a leader to the point of death might have been a more acceptable interpretation of the actions of Byrhtnoth’s retainers. To modern readers, revenge is often considered to be a selfish pursuit; in an eleventh-century Anglo-Saxon society which was suffering from repeated Viking raids, Niles points out, vengeance would have been part of a practical plan of defence and a means of maintaining a sense of order in the face of defeat and the failure of both military and diplomatic tributary attempts to protect Anglo-Saxon England from foreign invasion. Davis agrees with Niles regarding the retainers’ actions after Byrhtnoth’s death – they do not want to die, but recognize it as a possibility – and claims that “[i]f they are loyal, it is to an ideal of their own integrity and self-respect.”80 In other words, “the retainers have publically sworn to avenge
[Byrhtnoth] as confirmation of their identity and social rank.”81
78 Ic eom frod feores: fram ic ne wille, / ac ic me be healfe minum hlaforde, / be swa leofan men, licgan þence [I am wise in life: from here I will not go, / but I by the side of my lord, / by so loved a man, think to lie (Maldon, ll. 317-19). 79 Maldon, ll. 207-8. 80 Davis, “Cultural Historicity,” 162. 81 Ibid., 162. 86
Following his arguments regarding the heroic freedom of choice of Bythtnoth’s retainers, Irving claims that these individual choices lead to a melding of individual identities: “the folk and their leader are one.”82 Since, Irving argues, the heroism depicted in The Battle of Maldon is more social and cooperative than solitary, “[i]n the descriptions of the warriors there is a consistent movement from individuality – usually the careful identification of the man by name, father’s name and place of origin
– toward a generalized heroic level, a world and style where the individual merges his identity with that of his leader and the ancient heroes.”83 John M. Hill agrees with Irving’s earlier interpretation of the actions of Byrhtnoth’s retainers, asserting that “they struggle as they rededicate themselves to each other and to their dead lord.”84 This struggle that Hill sees as implicit in the poem is still by no means a foregone conclusion, and is in fact suggested to Hill through extra-textual evidence, not citations from the poem. There is no evidence that the retainers who remain to keep fighting are at all hesitant about their decision to stay, and neither does the poet hint at any internal struggle they may have been experiencing. Again echoing Irving’s assertion of a created collective identity, Hill states,
[t]he firm retainers in Maldon eventually reject survival and take on Byrhtnoth’s entire fate as their own, raising loyalty to a level beyond the commonsensical or the easily understandable. Theirs is a transvaluation underwritten by all the social ties that bind freemen together honorably. In a sense, the retainers resolve to ask nothing for themselves alone or of Byrhtnoth. Instead, on Byrhtnoth’s behalf, they collectively internalize an injunction whereby the dead Byrhtnoth is allowed to be everything to them, while they, in an evolving group action, eventually assume a new ideal, a transcendent group ego, one might say.85
However, I see nothing ‘eventual’ about what Hill interprets as a “rejection of survival:” instead of being a positive choice to die, the retainers are choosing not to dishonour themselves, with the knowledge that one of the consequences of this choice might be death. Breaking their vows after
82 Irving, “Heroic Style,” 462. 83 Ibid., 466. 84 Hill, “Triumphant Lordship,” 127. 85 Ibid., 125. 87 having accepted gifts from Byrhtnoth would be a dishonour; they ask nothing of Byrhtnoth after he is dead because (in addition to being dead), he has previously given them gifts as their lord. I also disagree with Hill’s interpretation of the retainers’ actions as suicidal. He claims that “honor is reframed as a suicidal value the pull of which even secular warriors might feel” in light of what he sees as “an emptying out of the idea of retainership as anciently construed in its reciprocal and nearly egalitarian character.”86 Again, he is ignoring the references to gift-giving found within the poem, as well as simplifying the ancient Germanic lord-retainer relationship. Hill argues that Maldon demonstrates a new order of “unilateral, vertical demands,” but one cannot base claims of a changing social order on a poem which was clearly written in a style that harkens back to the social circumstances against which one is arguing.87 The vertical king – lord – retainer relationship may have been evolving in late Anglo-Saxon England, but the poem is not written in the style of a historically accurate representation of those changes. There is no certain way to separate the fact from the fiction in
The Battle of Maldon.
In contrast to the discussions of the retainers’ actions based around heroic or suicidal loyalty,
Stephen J. Harris argues that the retainers are not acting on a choice to uphold their loyalty to their lord but through a mandatory legal duty whose ramifications for breaking are severe enough that it is simply not an option. In addition, Harris believes that “[i]n the world of Maldon, bravery and keen hearts are not so much an effect of choice as they are a manifestation of interior disposition, of who one was born to be.”88 Citing Ælfwine’s recitation of his genealogy and the description of Wulfstan, Harris argues that these traits are inherited as much as learned and that the obligations which one's place in society entails are so entrenched that acting in discordance with those responsibilities is practically
86 Ibid., 128. 87 Ibid., 128. 88 Stephen J. Harris, “Oaths in The Battle of Maldon,” 85. 88 unimaginable. According to Harris, an oath of loyalty was more a legal obligation than an honourable choice, and that the breaking of such an oath might mean the loss of one’s life: “[t]he implication for
Maldon is that those who escape the battle do not necessarily escape death. Moreover, the named characters who escape would risk not only their own lives, but the wealth and dignity of their families and that of their progeny.”89 Being able to choose moment by moment whether or not to continue to support your lord or superior “assumes an agency of Anglo-Saxon readers more common in modern democracies than in medieval kingdoms.”90 This argument is not entirely convincing, however, for it assumes that an Anglo-Saxon would not be capable of weighing the consequences of breaking an oath, no matter how severe, against the immediate threat of annihilation at the hands of a Viking horde. The fact that Godwine, Godric, and Godwig flee the battle after Byrhtnoth’s death would seem to support my assertion that Anglo-Saxons would have been perfectly capable of exercising free will regarding whether or not to uphold previously-made oaths, but Harris proposes a different reason for their flight.
He compares the flight of the three brothers to the release of the hawk at the beginning of the poem; in the same way that the hawk is only in temporary service to its handler while remaining wild at heart, the three brothers are only obligated to Byrhtnoth until the time of his death. Godric thus leaves the battle upon the dissolution of his obligation, and Godwine and Godwig “‘flugon’ (line 194a) [fly] from the battle and seek the woods, in the same terms as the hawk does. One might conclude that with
Byrhtnoth’s death, and with the flight of Godric, the two brothers are legally released from their personal oaths to Byrhtnoth, and newly obliged by the lesser legal force of their kin relation to follow
Godric.”91
Robinson places a greater importance on loyalty than Harris’s mere legal obligation: “[m]ore
89 Ibid., 86. In my screenplay, these consequences are represented by the recitation of the penalties for the crimes of Wulfbold and his family. 90 Ibid., 87. 91 Ibid., 93-4. 89 than a mere tribal custom, the interlocking bonds of loyalty were the principle on which Anglo-Saxon civilization rested, the only bulwark against primitive chaos and anarchy.”92 Although I believe that the consequences for broken loyalty which Robinson describes are somewhat exaggerated, I agree with him that loyalty was more than a legal obligation.93 However, regardless of the extent of loyalty’s importance in tenth-century Anglo-Saxon England, the heroic style of The Battle of Maldon extends its definition of loyalty back into the time of epic Germanic warriors. Thus while I attempt to create thoroughly human characters rather than superhuman heroes for my screenplay, I assign motives to them consistent with men who believe in the ultimate importance of the bonds of loyalty to lord and king. Based on the actions of the heorðwerod after Byrhtnoth’s death, it would have been inconsistent to do otherwise; and as for Byrhtnoth himself, I imagine that he felt obligated to present a strong and confident front to his men, in spite of the dangers with which they were faced.
92 Robinson, “God, Death, and Loyalty,” 436. 93 For example, society does not fall apart after Wulfbold refuses to pay the penalty for his disloyal deeds. 90
Chapter 4: Representing the Middle Ages on Film
Before writing my screenplay, it was important for me not only to explore the ways that history and legend interact in The Battle of Maldon, and the meaning and depictions of heroism found in the poem, but also to be able to situate my screenplay and imagined film within the corpus of films that deal with medieval subjects, or ‘medieval films.’1 How are medieval films defined, and how are they criticized? To what standards was I going to hold my screenplay? In spite of the large number of movies which could be considered medieval, there have been very few films either about Anglo-Saxons or based on Anglo-Saxon sources, and none that I could find in the Hollywood canon based on Anglo-
Saxon historical poems. In recent years, however, two adaptations of Beowulf have appeared which, although they were heavily criticized for both the quality of cinematic storytelling and the adaptational choices of the filmmakers, make valuable observations about the nature of memorial heroic poetry.
Bettina Bildhauer and Anke Bernau respond to those criticisms of medieval film which claim that, as a genre, it repeats and sustains conservative viewpoints which aim to reinforce widely accepted racial, political, and gender norms, and to support such Western ideals as democracy and monogamy. In other words, many medieval films face the same criticisms that any generic Hollywood film might encounter when viewed with a critical eye. In addition, medieval films are “condemned as unrealistic, nostalgic and escapist,” and are dismissed as unchallenging both intellectually and aesthetically. 2 While there is no doubt that some films which may be classified as medieval fall into these uncomplimentary categories, Bildhauer and Bernau assert that “the resistance to chronological history that characterises medieval film can actually be valuable and critical rather than merely or necessarily escapist and
1 For a discussion of some of the difficulties in defining ‘medieval film,’ see pages 92-99 below. 2 Bettina Bildhauer and Anke Bernau, “Introduction: The A-chronology of Medieval Film,” 3. 91 conformist.”3
One of the most common critiques levelled at medieval film is that of its lack of historical accuracy. While other period films may concentrate on achieving accuracy in terms of the particularities of the era (which can sometimes be attributed to greater knowledge of that time period), medieval films often appear unconcerned with any anachronisms or discrepancies in detail, choosing effect over accuracy. Bildhauer and Bernau, along with Andrew B.R. Elliott, cite developments in historiography which acknowledge that even this more scholarly way of representing history is still just that – a representation which is also susceptible to the problems of narrative choice. One way that medieval film is differentiated both from other period films and from the narratives that occur in historiography is in its manner of “[laying] bare the narrative and cinematic manipulations underlying all historical films.”4 One of the most blatant expositions of our assumptions about the realism of medieval film occurs in the opening scene of Monty Python and the Holy Grail.5 The audience sees a foggy forest scene and hears the sound of horses approaching, but its expectations are overturned when
Arthur and his squire emerge from the fog and are only pretending to ride horses, making the sounds of hoofbeats by clacking together coconut shells. In exposing these manipulations, medieval films provide an alternative to the dichotomy of “accuracy versus entertainment” and point to more fruitful ways of thinking about history and film.6 It is not necessary for a movie to imitate academic historical writing in order for it to teach an audience something about the Middle Ages, and the very aspects of the film that make it entertaining are often the same aspects through which an audience can expand its understanding of history. Bildhauer and Bernau place high expectations on medieval film to be able to transform ways of looking not only at medieval history, but at the ways in which we interact with time,
3 Ibid., 3. 4 Ibid., 4. 5 Monty Python and the Holy Grail, special ed. DVD. Directed by Terry Gilliam and Terry Jones. 6 Bildhauer and Bernau, “Introduction,” 4. 92 memory, and history itself. These expectations can, however, also be placed upon The Battle of
Maldon, a poem which recreates a recent event through the lens of an earlier heroic code and memorializes its characters as warriors of a bygone era. Just as medieval films explode the assumed-to- be-mutually-exclusive categories of accuracy and entertainment, the poem also exposes and plays with our expectations of history versus poetry.
Definitions of Medieval Film
Before examining the criticisms levelled at medieval film, it is important to attempt to define what, exactly, makes a film medieval, even if those attempts do not lead to a conclusive definition
Bildhauer and Bernau formulate a definition of medieval film based on its atemporality, and they propose that “through its very position outside of the historiographical and generic mainstreams
[medieval film] can alter representations of history and cinematic modes.” 7 They state that medieval film – a term not without definitional difficulties – has the potential for providing a new way of looking at both history and film through its ‘a-chronology’ which plays out on several levels. Indeed, their definition of medieval film is dependent upon an “uncertain temporality” within a medieval setting. 8
They argue that “more so than films set in other periods of the past, the present or the future, medieval films reflect on the fact that they make present a past that was never filmable and offer alternatives to chronological conceptions of time. Both in their plots and in their filmic techniques they frequently show, for instance, anachronisms, time stoppages, time travel and cyclical time.” 9 These elements of medieval film range from the deliberately obvious anachronisms of A Knight’s Tale to the pervasive and inevitable anachronism of medieval characters speaking modern languages, and from the time
7 Ibid., 16. 8 Ibid., 2. 9 Ibid., 1. 93 travel of A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court to the implied cyclical nature of narrative in
Beowulf and Grendel. Whether or not these elements occur more frequently in films set in the Middle
Ages than in other time periods would require a more comprehensive survey of films than Bildhauer and Bernau present in their work. However, Bildhauer proposes several more features and motifs which are associated with a potential definition of a medieval film genre:
In terms of motifs, for instance, armour, castles with parapets, dirt, bad teeth and crosses can be expected; in terms of themes, Christianity, chivalry and violence are all- pervasive. [...] [T]he less obvious genre features include a playful, experimental approach to time both in the plot and in the narrative structures; the presentation of vision and materiality as superior to writing in both plot and cinematic technique (often coupled with a reflection on the distinctive properties of film as a medium); and a search for alternatives to modern subjectivity and a privileging of ‘post-human’ identity both in the plot and the aesthetics of film.10
Several other scholars have recently put forth definitions of medieval film, many of which include very broad criteria. Martha W. Driver and Sid Ray define medieval film as “a genre comprised of films with medieval themes, stories, or characters that can include, besides films set in the Middle
Ages, spaghetti westerns, science fiction movies, neogothic films, and even Hong Kong action cinema,” begging the questions of what exactly a medieval theme, story, or character might be, and how the medieval exemplars might be defined against their later counterparts. 11 Richard Burt defines
‘movie medievalism’ “as broadly as possible to include films set in the Middle Ages as well as films with contemporary settings that allude to the Middle Ages or are anchored in them.”12 He refuses to place parameters on how direct or prevalent an allusion to the Middle Ages must be before a film is considered medieval because, he argues, “such classifications would return us to a naïve, even absurd version of the fidelity model based on temporal and geographical distinctions.”13 Nickolas Haydock
10 Bettina Bildhauer, Filming the Middle Ages, 13. 11 Martha W. Driver and Sid Ray, “Preface: Hollywood Knights,” 5. 12 Richard Burt, “Getting Schmedieval: Of Manuscript and Film Prologues, Paratexts, and Parodies,” 219. 13 Ibid., 219. 94 explores ‘movie medievalism’ through the lens of the psychoanalytical theories of Sigmund Freud and
Jacques Lacan, arguing that “movie medievalism is perhaps best understood as an egregious example of how Lacan suggests memory itself functions, as a series of assertions about the past in the future perfect tense: it screens what will have been, and therein lies its (un)heimlich quality.”14 Psychoanalytic theory is an interesting and productive lens through which to examine medieval film, but it sidesteps the question of which films are medieval, and can equally be used in the analysis of other film genres.
Laurie A. Finke and Martin B. Shichtman “[examine] popular films set in the Middle Ages as fantasies that hold out the promise of hyperreality, the fantasy of an utterly transparent past,” bypassing the question of what makes a film medieval in order to focus on what happens when we watch a film set in the Middle Ages and why these films continue to be popular.15 They state, “[we] do not believe that medieval films constitute a genre in and of themselves; they are too diverse a lot. Rather, different films draw on different generic frameworks to construct their chronotopes, especially their representations of time.”16 Rather than distinguishing medieval film as a genre based on certain specific ways that it plays with and manipulates time, Finke and Shichtman claim that medieval films use the same chronological
(or a-chronological) strategies as other film genres, thereby negating the usefulness of a definition of medieval film based on the way that it uses non-linear forms of time.
In contrast to these briefer definitions, Bildhauer and Bernau provide a comprehensive expansion on their attempt to define medieval film as a genre in large part based on the ways that it manipulates time. Medieval film has the most potential for illuminating concerns with time and the
14 Nickolas Haydock, Movie Medievalism: The Imaginary Middle Ages, 5. Haydock refers to an observation from Freud’s Beyond the Pleasure Principle in which a child plays “gone” (fort) and “there” (da) with his toys. “As Freud noted, pleasure and aggression are both integral to this game. The same holds true of the pastime I am calling movie medievalism, which is as much about making the past gone as it is about the endlessly renewable surprises inherent in finding it again” (Haydock, 5). 15 Laurie A. Finke and Martin B. Shichtman, Cinematic Illuminations: The Middle Ages on Film, 6. 16 Ibid., 39-40. 95
Middle Ages when we ask “why and how the Middle Ages are presented in such an indeterminate,
‘inaccurate’ manner.”17 Neither historical studies nor theories of memory alone account for the persistent interest in the Middle Ages. “Historical linearity” falls short in explaining this interest because people do not generally conceive of the Middle Ages as having a causal effect on events in the present.18 While modern ideals are regarded as following a direct trajectory from Renaissance philosophies, there is a perceived break between the present and the Middle Ages, which are often viewed as a time of legend and epic rather than history. The Middle Ages are simply too long ago to be intuitively connected to present events in a directly causal relationship. Umberto Eco states that
“looking at the Middle Ages means looking at our infancy, in the same way that a doctor, to understand our present state of health, asks us about our childhood, or in the same way that the psychoanalyst, to understand our present neuroses, makes a careful investigation of the primal scene.”19 But in the same way that we need an outside opinion on the exploration of our infancy because we cannot directly remember the events of our early years, so too are we looking at the Middle Ages from an exterior perspective. Theories of memory that explain the past in terms of the ways that it has been influenced by the present moment therefore also cannot explain the fascination with the Middle Ages, for the distant past cannot actually be remembered. Makers of medieval films are not representing a shared cultural memory, but a memorialization of an imagined past. Medieval film is more flexible in its conventions and modes than linear history, but less amorphous than memory, and can therefore be useful in understanding why and how the Middle Ages continue to fascinate us and permeate our cultural lives. Bildhauer and Bernau approach the questions of why and how from two angles: the a- chronology of cinema, and the a-chronology of the Middle Ages. They argue that the intersection of
17 Bildhauer and Bernau, “Introduction,” 5. 18 Ibid., 5. 19 Umberto Eco, “The Return of the Middle Ages,” 65. 96 these two temporal non-linearities, in combination with our experiences of memory and the passage of time, is what makes medieval film a rich site for the exploration of history and film.
In order to support their description of the a-chronology of cinema, Bildhauer and Bernau draw on Freudian theories of trauma and memory and their effects on our perception of the passage of time in order to formulate their definition of medieval film. In addition, they make use of recent film theory that describes cinema itself as delayed and functioning on several different levels of time. Film is historical in that there is a necessary lapse in time between filming and viewing, but instead of a single moment being preserved, as in a photograph, a whole series of moments are preserved and replayed. As a series of moments, a film is at one and the same time experienced as having its own past (what the audience has already viewed), present (the frame currently on the screen) and future (the frames that have yet to be replayed). It is here that the comparison of film with theories of traumatic memory and
Freudian Nachträglichkeit occurs, for similar to how the remembered past may not be factual but rather the reinterpretation of memories in terms of the present, a film audience is compelled to reinterpret earlier scenes in the film in light of new information that is revealed as the film plays out. 20
Accordingly, Bildhauer and Bernau allege that “film does not work chronologically, but that each image or sequence is temporally situated not at the time of its filming, nor of its screening, nor even at the time of its reinterpretation, but at all of them simultaneously. In short, film works like shifting memory as well as like linear history.”21 While this is a compelling argument, I am not prepared to accept without question the claim that film viewers experience cinematic time “as non-linear and memorial.”22 The attraction of a linear perception of time is strong, and even in cases where time is
20 “According to the Freudian concept of Nachträglichkeit [‘afterwardsness’] the subject belatedly remembers an event that may never have occurred, or at least not in the way that it is now remembered. This ‘memory’ is the result of an accretion of events that cause the subject to remember something not originally traumatic as traumatic retrospectively. What is remembered at an earlier point in time may thus be recent thoughts and impressions” (Bildhauer and Bernau, 7). 21 Ibid., 7-8. 22 Ibid., 8. 97 overtly manipulated in a film, a linear chronology is created retroactively as events are ordered in our memories. I would also question whether or not a non-linear film experience is dependent upon the specific film that is being watched, the circumstances under which it is being watched (is it in a theatre? On DVD? Is it a first or a repeat viewing of the film?), and how actively or passively the film is being watched.
The second aspect of Bildhauer and Bernau’s definition is the a-chronology of the Middle Ages.
Conventionally, medieval people are believed to have experienced time in a non-linear fashion, much as cinematic time is presently experienced by movie-watchers. Bildhauer and Bernau cite scholars such as Aron Gurevich who argue that people of the Middle Ages experienced time in light of the ever- present expectation of the end of time, with the belief that life on Earth was merely the necessary foundation to eternal life after death.23 Although this interpretation of the worldview of medieval people has long been disputed, and in spite of the fact that this mode of perception is now often seen as unsophisticated, Bildhauer and Bernau contend that this medieval way of viewing time can, much like a-chronological cinematic time, offer insights into the ways that we currently understand time and history. I disagree with the assertion that people of the Middle Ages experienced time in a non-linear and drastically different way from people in the modern age, but the structure of my screenplay belies my beliefs. By opening and closing the film with animated images of a tapestry, I use the common cinematic technique of creating a circular structure which leads back to the beginning. When Byrhtnoth draws upon old traditions (as the poet also does by writing in the tradition style of Anglo-Saxon epic poetry) in order to cement current loyalties, he is repeating past patterns; when he and his men fight
23 “There is a long tradition of scholarship that argues that medieval people understood history as undifferentiated and atemporal in its providential continuity. According to this argument, time in the Middle Ages was experienced as moving slowly, in a circular rhythm or even not at all, with very little acknowledged to have happened from one generation to the next during the entire period between 500 and 1500. This sense of time, which was allegedly shaped largely by early medieval monastic traditions, was furthermore characterised by an apocalyptic sense of the inevitable and imminent end of time.” (Bildhauer and Bernau, 8). 98 until the death, they are playing out the expectation that people of the Middle Ages were waiting for life after death and the end of time.
Bildhauer and Bernau also point out parallels between theories of traumatic memory and the ways in which we, as modern thinkers, perceive and interact with the Middle Ages. Looking at the perceived fracture between the Middle Ages and the present as a traumatic break – as something that is
“mediated by the present” – can be a useful tool for thinking about the Middle Ages.24 Using the example of Jerusalem in the film Kingdom of Heaven, Bildhauer and Bernau describe how the city represents temporal layering, where history is accumulated in layers that affect how both the past and the present are experienced as meaningful.25 In this case, “the historical narrative is accretive rather than linear or analogous,” with each conquering of the city layered on top of the last, gaining significance not only from the current struggle but also from all those that have already taken place. 26
Kingdom of Heaven demonstrates this layering in part through its opening and closing title cards, which situate the twelfth-century setting of the film within a larger narrative that stretches from the past of the film’s setting to the current struggle which is on-going in that part of the world. The voice-overs in my screenplay serve a similar but less expansive purpose by placing the battle at Maldon within the larger narrative of past and future Viking raids of Anglo-Saxon England, whereby it is significant in part because of the history of invasion with which Byrhtnoth and his companions are familiar. However, my voice-overs deliberately fall short of attempting to create an analogous relationship between Anglo-
Saxon England and current or recent events. Regardless of whether or not a film is overtly connected to modern narratives or current events, many filmmakers tell the audience where and when the film is set, either with voice-over or title cards; although props and costumes may clearly signify that the setting is
24 Ibid., 10. 25 Kingdom of Heaven, directed by Ridley Scott, 2005. 26 Bilhauer and Bernau, “Introduction,” 15. 99 generally medieval, it is difficult to distinguish between a sixth-century and a fourteenth-century story without paratextual information.
In many, if not all, ways, my screenplay and the film that I imagine arising from it fall squarely within all of these various definitions of medieval film. The most obvious aspect of my screenplay’s medievalism is its setting: tenth-century Anglo-Saxon England. It also contains several motifs common to representations of the Middle Ages (a great lord and his retainers, feasting, Vikings, etc.) and participates in some of the “genre features” that Bildhauer describes (a non-linear narrative structure, privileging of imagery over writing, and a manipulation of the passage of time). The lens of psychoanalytic theory might provide an interesting perspective on my screenplay, but I attempted to avoid any direct influence from or reference to those theoretical frameworks. However, some of the memorial explanations of how we access and create the past inevitably resonate throughout the screenplay. It is notable that many of these definitions include criteria that can encompass films which are not instinctively recognizable as medieval, and many of them are therefore too general to be of practical use. I would suggest that whether or not a film may be considered medieval should be evaluated on an individual basis, and by taking into account those defining criteria which are most relevant to the particular study being done. There is merit in all the recently suggested definitions, but no one definition is strong enough to stand alone, not even the thorough explanation of medieval film based on its a-chronology. My screenplay does, however, most certainly fulfill enough of these criteria to be considered as falling within the category of medieval film.
Visual Authenticity
A filmmaker can somewhat control her intentions, but she cannot control the reactions of an audience; sometimes, as with the subconsciously created circularity of time in my screenplay, a 100 filmmaker or a screenwriter produces an unintended reaction both from her herself and her audience.
Elliott draws on Reception Theory when he asserts that authenticity is much more dependent on the expectations and experiences of an audience – expectations shaped by current culture, society, and ideology, and experiences often including previous cinematic exposure – than on historical accuracy as determined by academic historians. One way that those expectations can be met is by including what
Elliott has deemed “historicons:” signs (objects, people, gestures, etc.) which are “iconically linked to a historical period” regardless of whether or not they are factually historically accurate. 27 Thus an audience recognizes, for example, broadswords, armour, and dresses with long, hanging sleeves as signifying a medieval world, though the members of the audience may have never studied medieval history; even the minimalist costumes and setting of The Passion of Joan of Arc are easily recognizable as medieval due to the tonsures and robes of the monks. ‘Historicons’ are used to create a medieval world which Elliott terms a ‘forum,’ but the authenticity of the forum is more dependent on the expectations of the audience than on adherence to an academic standard of credibility. The way the narrative is presented is also dependent on the pretext, or “what the filmmaker wants the Middle Ages to be for the purposes of his or her story,”28 recognizing that this past, which is constructed, is always generated within the present and is subject to the cultural, political, social, and ideological concerns and influences of the filmmakers. Similarly, the poet who wrote The Battle of Maldon was writing under the influence of the political situation in Anglo-Saxon England, possibly under the social influence inherent in writing a commissioned memorial poem, within a certain ideological standpoint on the way that the
Viking raids should be handled, and within the stylistic constraints of Anglo-Saxon poetry. It is most likely impossible that we will ever know for sure how historically accurate the imagery in The Battle of
27 Andrew B.R. Elliott, Remaking the Middle Ages: The Methods of Cinema and History in Portraying the Medieval World, 44. 28 Elliott, Remaking the Middle Ages, 217. 101
Maldon is, but it is possible that it was included more for the sake of satisfying audience expectations than for projecting an air of realism.
Genres are dependent upon audience perception for their existence, and are thus created by marketing teams and strategies, filmmakers, critics, and audiences; they also function through the repetition of icons or signs and references to previous films about the Middle Ages, constructing a cinematic medieval world that is to a greater or lesser degree reliant on a perceived authentic Middle
Ages. Bildhauer states that “a medieval film presupposes other genre expectations in its relationship to reality than a film about modern history does,” because the Middle Ages are often seen to belong to a prehistorical or supernatural world.29 Consequently, films about the Middle Ages are more prone to include elements of fantasy, and these inclusions are more likely to be accepted by audiences of medieval film than of films about other historical periods. This does not, however, negate the need for a sense of authenticity, and Bildhauer points out that a feeling of “[historical] accuracy is a production value, something that adds credibility to a film.”30 She observes that authenticity-effects are most often created through physical, visual period details which become more important than “an accurate portrayal of the mentality, human behaviour and world view of the time.”31 Bildhauer sees little use in criticizing medieval films based on their adherence to a perceived factual history, and she argues that
“there is more to responsibility than accuracy,” which is an important distinction but one that is difficult to define.32 This responsibility includes “[matching] the representational strategies to that which is represented,” “[taking] into account that it is the strength of fiction to bring to the fore less easily certifiable factors, such as Zeitgeist, personality, experiences, moods and psychological motivations,” refraining from making truth claims that cannot be supported, and acknowledging how the
29 Bildhauer, Filming the Middle Ages, 18. 30 Ibid., 20. 31 Ibid., 20. 32 Ibid., 21. 102 representational strategies used in film affect the story that is being told.33
In comparison to the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle records of the battle at Maldon, the poet has managed to portray the ideological mindset of the time and the personalities, moods, and motivations of the men mentioned in the poem, and I hope that I have done the same in my screenplay. I undertook to match my representational strategy to that of the poem, directly translating into cinematic terms the imagery and dialogue from the poem as closely as possible, though they are clearly subject to my own interpretation. The additional scenes are meant to explain the characters’ motivations which would have been known to an Anglo-Saxon audience who was living within the social and political landscape of the time of the poem’s writing. In terms of truth claims, it is uncertain how much of the poem was intended to be taken as fact, but the epic style that the poet used would not have been chosen if The
Battle of Maldon was intended to be read or heard as a historical record. I, however, have used paratextual strategies which both promote and undermine truth claims about the events of the poem.
The tapestries which open and close the film and which morph into the live-action main body of the film are clearly not realistic, but they are open to contradictory interpretations. The animated scenes can imply either that the film is, like the tapestry itself, a fabrication rather than a reproduction of real events, or they can serve as a contrast to the live-action scenes, emphasizing the reality of the live- action scenes The voice-over that describes the political situation appears to be making statements of fact that lend an air of historicity to the main body of the imagined film.
Sarah Salih presents a compelling exploration of how visual “cinematic authenticity-effects” are created and how the methods used in portraying the Middle Ages resonate with and relate to art from the medieval period.34 Although “the medieval is troubled by its lack of a secure visual identity” in that we do not and perhaps cannot know exactly what the Middle Ages looked like, medieval films have, 33 Ibid., 21. 34 Sarah Salih, “Cinematic Authenticity-effects and Medieval Art: A Paradox,” 20. 103 through repetition, created their own set of “signifiers of period” by which a film can be identified as medieval.35 There is not, however, one single set of signifiers of the Middle Ages which filmmakers rely on. Depictions of the Middle Ages often fall into one of two camps: the clean, shiny, brightly- coloured depictions of a chivalric Middle Ages, or the dirty barbaric Middle Ages characterized by down-trodden peasants and pious monks.36 Elliott makes the point that historical accuracy does not automatically lead to (nor is it a prerequisite for) cinematic authenticity: “a film need not necessarily replicate verbatim the medieval worlds created by historians and academics, but rather need only generate a medieval world which has the right ‘feel’ to it and which allows a spectator to make a connection to the medieval imaginary.”37 Creating the ‘right feel’ is thus often accomplished through the use of historicons. Byrhtnoth’s great hall, Viking ships, spears, swords, and shields are all elements of my screenplay which will be readily recognizable as signs of the medieval to a modern audience, most of whom will have seen similar settings and props in many other medieval films. What they have in common is their use of representational strategies which employ visual signs that “do not need any relation to historical practice to carry symbolic and connotative value,” a strategy which Salih claims is similar to those used during the Middle Ages wherein metaphorical meaning is more important than literal meaning.38 Although I imagine the props and settings in my film as being as historically accurate as possible, it is not necessary that those elements of my screenplay be faithful replications in order to inspire a sense of authenticity (except in the case of an audience full of scholars of medieval studies).
It is this very non-mimetic aspect of medieval art that contributes to our lack of certain knowledge of what the Middle Ages looked like, for we cannot rely on medieval art as participating in
35 Ibid., 21. 36 Monty Python and the Holy Grail provides a perfect example of this when King Arthur, clad in pure white cloth and shiny armour, encounters the members of the constitutional peasants, who are not only covered in dirt, but are harvesting it as well. 37 Elliott, Remaking the Middle Ages, 206. 38 Salih, “Cinematic Authencity-effects,” 24. 104 an attempt at realism as we understand it today. This lack of knowledge makes it necessary for films to create and rely on what Nickolas Haydock calls the ‘medieval imaginary’ in representing the medieval on film. As the number of medieval films in existence accumulates over time, filmmakers can draw upon the visual symbols and other signs used in previous films as a kind of cinematic shorthand, as with Elliott's iconic representation, or they can make a claim to authenticity by setting their film against previous depictions of the Middle Ages: ‘they got it wrong before, but we are getting it right this time.’
Salih points out, however, that reliance on actual medieval artefacts is more complicated than merely placing them at strategic points on the film's set. Firstly, the connotative or symbolic meaning of the artefact may be different for modern audiences than it was for medieval viewers, and in some cases, an object may not even be recognizable or identifiable to the vast majority of modern spectators.
Secondly, most denizens of the twenty-first century are only familiar with medieval artefacts in an aged state. Salih presents the example of the grey and brown colour palette used in The Name of the Rose to create an authenticity-effect based more on a coherent, ‘medieval-looking’ aesthetic than a historically accurate one, which would have included brightly painted church doors. The Name of the Rose sets its dull aesthetic against more idealistic cinematic depictions of the Middle Ages and draws its sense of authenticity from the contrast; Salih describes it as a “dark, dirty and downtrodden medieval, which appears to be both revisionist and familiar.”39 Salih also describes how The Name of the Rose makes use of the iconic recreation of the dirty Middle Ages in order to connote the superstitious, unsophisticated attitudes of an abject peasantry who are “dominated by an exploitative church which claims a monopoly even on decoration and colour.”40 The Name of the Rose achieves this in part through the contrast in dental quality: the rational, intelligent protagonists have straight, white teeth, while less savoury and less important characters are troubled by brown and rotting dentition. Salih 39 Ibid., 29. 40 Ibid., 29. 105 contrasts the style of iconic recreation of The Name of the Rose with that of the 1968 movie Camelot, which, instead of aiming at achieving authenticity-effects by appealing to a sense of realism (even though that realism is not based in reality itself), creates a world of pure iconic recreation. Its brightly- coloured costumes and shiny props were clearly not intended to be faithful reproductions of medieval artefacts, but to replicate an ideal of imagined medievalism stemming from the audience’s previous encounters with the medieval imaginary. Though perhaps not to the same extent as Camelot, the more highly rated 1964 film Becket also uses bright, clean costumes in its portrayal of the Middle Ages, and it contrasts the fancy dress of royalty and the upper class with the plain, brown, and muddy clothing of the peasants in the film, a strategy which is repeated in many medieval films.
Salih also compares the use of varied medieval artefacts in film to the reuse of older artefacts in
Christian culture. She appropriately uses the term ‘spolia’ to refer to these “ancient artefacts which are appropriated or excerpted and put to work in a different context,” describing the way that medieval relics from various eras are strategically or randomly placed on film sets to lend an air of authenticity without any necessary reference to historical accuracy.41 Thus “[past] and present are both hybridised: the present is made multi-temporal, and the ancient object made to bear meanings foreign to its original context.”42 The fourth-century Arch of Constantine is a great architectural example of spolia, having been built with several second-century reliefs in its construction, thereby both reminding its observers of Roman history and attaching new significance to historical reliefs. The strategy can also be applied to any number of modes of artistic expression. Furthermore, when an audience has no recourse to knowledge of historical fact (to the extent that such facts can be known), it is inevitable that either new meanings will be assigned to objects, or that different objects must be used to represent medieval meanings (to the extent that such meanings can be known). 41 Ibid., 34. 42 Ibid., 35. 106
Elliott approaches the problem of matching medieval significance to modern meaning by applying theories of semiotics to his interpretations of medieval film because a certain sign may not carry the same meaning for a modern audience that it did in the Middle Ages. In The Battle of Maldon, for example, Anglo-Saxon ideals of loyalty are explored, and while a modern audience might make an analogous comparison to army troops of today, the vastly different political situation of tenth-century
England and the thousand-year separation between twenty-first century and Anglo-Saxon England discount the possibility of having any direct knowledge of the significance of loyalty within a duguð.
Furthermore, the poet himself is describing a kind of loyalty which may no longer have held true in late
Anglo-Saxon England, if indeed it was ever in existence outside of epic poetry. Elliott draws on a simplified form of Charles S. Peirce’s model of semiotics, describing a sign as the combination of referent, signifier, and signified, and he argues that “[i]f we are no longer able with certainty or authority to connect with the referents, or material objects, of the Middle Ages, then we can no longer posit the existence of a completed ‘triad of signification’ – in short, if one of the components is missing, then we are no longer able to summon up a direct signifying link to our medieval past.”43
Elliott's understanding of semiotics forms the basis of the theoretical framework within which he analyses films about the Middle Ages as partaking in either “iconic recreation” or “paradigmatic representation.”44 Iconic recreation works through the use of recognizable visual signs in order “to imply the concept” which the filmmaker wishes to promote, for example by having a character wear a suit of plate armour in order to imply the concept of the medieval knight, regardless of whether or not the character behaves like a medieval knight.45 The icon, or visual sign, need not, however, be
43 Elliott, Remaking the Middle Ages, 44. In brief, the referent, or object, is that which is represented; the signifier, or representamen, is how the referent/object is represented, or that which stands for the referent/object; and the signified, or interpretant, is how the referent is interpreted. 44 Ibid. 45 Ibid. 107 historically accurate as long as it is perceived to be authentic and is understood by the audience to which it is presented. Indeed, the significance of a historically accurate icon may not be the same for a contemporary audience as it was for a medieval audience, in which case the sign would fail to communicate its intended meaning. Thus in The Battle of Maldon the triad of raven, eagle, and wolf would have been recognized by an Anglo-Saxon audience as the beasts of battle portending not only the coming slaughter, but also the outcome of the battle, for they usually consorted more closely with the winning side; to a modern audience, they might lend an ominous air to the scene but the implications would not be as predictive.46 It is therefore sometimes useful to employ icons that are not historically accurate in order to imply the intended meaning. In paradigmatic representation, “we are no longer loading the signifier with meanings which refer backwards in time to their original signified (as the iconic sign does), but we are in fact bringing the signified to identify it with paradigms which are more familiar from our own era.”47 To return to the example of the knight, in paradigmatic representation it is the function of the knight in society which is explored, rather than its visual meaning.
Many scholars of medieval film and even filmgoers seem concerned either with criticizing the accuracy of iconic recreation or with analyzing the contemporary structures at work in paradigmatic representation. Iconic recreation and paradigmatic representation are not, however, necessarily mutually exclusive, and I would question whether these are the only two options available both for the process of creating films about the Middle Ages and for analyzing already extant films about that elusive time period. In my screenplay, I attempt to avoid a paradigmatic representation of modern values dressed up in Anglo-Saxon clothes, and I am also concerned with not merely implying the
46 In The Battle of Maldon, the vikings are referred to as wælwulfas (‘slaughter-wolves,’ l. 96), and shortly thereafter the birds enter the scene: hremmas wundon, / earn æses georn (‘ravens circled, / eagle eager for carrion,’ ll. 106b-107). 47 Elliott, Remaking the Middle Ages, 47. 108 concept of an Anglo-Saxon duguð, but also creating characters who behave in a manner that is ‘true’ to the poem. Rather than using signifiers which would be recognizable to a modern audience, I attempt to explain the meaning of medieval signifiers through the creation of background scenes, not found in the poem, which clarify the significance of the medieval imagery. However, at the same time that I attempt to create an entertaining and thought-provoking work, I recognize that this undertaking can only ever achieve an approximation of the values in the poem, which are in turn a memorial fictionalization of a group of historical Anglo-Saxon warriors.
Other Methods of Authenticity
In addition to cinematic and visual authenticity-effects, there is the auditory nature of film to consider. Carol O'Sullivan faces the question of language in films which are set in a time when no one spoke as we do today. She identifies three specific language challenges that are faced in medieval film: temporal distance, in that medieval languages are no longer spoken; the co-existence of languages in the Middle Ages, often in the form of Latin and vernacular languages; and intercultural linguistic contact. As possible solutions to these challenges, O'Sullivan cites “three representational stances possible in narrative in relation to language” as defined by Meir Sternberg.48 The first, referential restriction, “consists in confining the scope of the represented world to the limits of a single, linguistically uniform community whose speech-patterns correspond to those of the implied audience.”49This stance is, however, inapplicable to films set in the Middle Ages, since there are no longer any medieval communities to serve as an audience for a film in which the actors speak a medieval language. The second stance, vehicular matching, “suit[s] the variations in the representational medium to the variations in the represented object,” whereby, for example, Latin is 48 Carol O’Sullivan, “A Time of Translation: Linguistic Difference and Cinematic Medievalism,” 61. 49 Meir Sternberg, “Polylingualism as Reality and Translation as Mimesis,” 223. 109 transcribed as Latin, and Germans speak German.50 The third stance, homogenizing convention, ignores linguistic differences in favour of the ease of having everyone speak the same language.
However, Sternberg points out that these are extreme representational strategies and that “[e]ach of the three either demands or sacrifices too much.”51 O’Sullivan therefore appeals to Sternberg’s less stringent, intermediate strategies: ‘selective reproduction,’ ‘verbal transposition,’ and ‘conceptual reflection.’52 Selective reproduction involves the sporadic use of the original language of discourse; the main, modern language of dialogue is interspersed with occasional reversions to the language of the setting’s time period. I have used this strategy in the dialogue of my screenplay, and also by including voice-overs in Old English which narrate the action on-screen (albeit beyond the comprehension of the majority of a general audience). Verbal transposition occurs when forms of expression such as syntactic differences, colloquialisms, or accents are used which imply linguistic difference. I employ this strategy in my screenplay by adhering as much as possible to an Anglo-Saxon-based language and style, including frequent alliteration. Additionally, the Vikings speak with a Danish accent, emphasizing their differentiation from the Anglo-Saxons. This strategy is not my own invention, however. Fred
Robinson points out that
[readers] have long appreciated the poet’s subtle conception of the Vikings’ message to Byrhtnoth, but I do not believe it has been noted before that these twelve lines may contain the first literary use of dialect in English. Locutions of Scandinavian origin as well as locutions that are simply unique in Old English are prominent in the speech, and it seems likely that these features were intended to suggest to an Anglo-Saxon audience ear the menacing voice of a foreigner.53
Conceptual reflection involves reference to social, cultural, and philosophical concepts or ideas, rather than a change in speech patterns. The efficacy of this strategy hinges in part on the ability of a modern
50 Ibid., 223. 51 Ibid., 225. 52 O’Sullivan, “Translation,” 62. 53 Fred Robinson, “Some Aspects of the Maldon Poet’s Artistry,” 26. 110 audience to recognize the cultural referents employed in conceptual reflection as signifying a certain time period and culture, in the same way that visual markers of the period rely on the audience’s ability to recognize them as belonging to the Middle Ages.
In order to convey a medieval linguistic difference, filmmakers sometimes employ a “set of mimetic clichés” made up of “register, lexis and morphology,” for example in the use of terms such as
‘ye’ and ‘thee’ and by adding the suffix ‘-eth’ to verbs in English; O'Sullivan calls this the “‘-ethness’ of medieval film.”54 This ‘-ethness’ is the auditory version of Elliott’s ‘historicons,’ speech patterns that represent medievalism to a modern audience regardless of how accurate they are. A more effective way of creating an authenticity-effect, however, is by using subtitles. “Because subtitles are experienced as mediating a pre-existing original,” O’Sullivan states, “they act as an assurance to the viewer that something lies behind them, that something has been translated to the present – an important resource for medieval film, in a medium haunted by the inaccessibility of the past.” 55 Subtitles create a sense of authenticity through appeal to the cultural capital that exists with the notion of the foreign film (which makes the audience work harder, but this work also leads to a sense of accomplishment after the viewing), and by giving the impression that the viewer is witness to an unmediated past through an original source text, though this text is, of course, mediated through its subtitles. The medieval world is, as part of the premodern past, foreign to modern audiences, but subtitles give the illusion of being afforded an extended glimpse into that past: the subtitles represent the present interpretation of the authentic, ‘true’ past of the film being played behind the subtitles. The creation of authenticity through the use of a language foreign to the intended audience of the film, supplemented by subtitles, is perhaps most fully exploited in The Passion of the Christ. In this film, the actors speak ancient languages whose modern forms are spoken by very few people today, strengthening the impression that the audience is 54 O’Sullivan, “Translation,” 63. 55 Ibid., 65. 111 seeing a version of the story which is close to what actually happened. While it was tempting to consider the possibility of a movie entirely in Old English, I decided to compose the dialogue in
Modern English, in order to make it easier both to write and to understand.
Rather than analyzing the visual or auditory aspects of medieval film, William F. Woods uses what he sees as a convincing written portrait of life in the Middle Ages, The Waning of the Middle Ages by Johan Huizinga, as a template for authoritative realism. Woods argues that it is the combination of emotionally and sensually captivating narratives with “attention to the tiny details of mundane experience” that allows Huizinga's work as well as films about the Middle Ages to create a believable world.56 He describes such a creation of a medieval world as a “communal fantasy” during which makers of medieval films “invite their audience to collaborate with them in what could be called a shared cinematic medievalism.”57 In short, it is a suspension of disbelief, and Woods is interested in what convinces audiences to accept certain medieval film worlds as authentic while others are dismissed as unrealistic. Rather than discussing the authenticity-effects of medieval film in terms of visual signs, however, Woods claims that “[the] characteristic immediacy of medieval film attracts us on two levels... first, through the senses and emotions, and second, and more importantly, through the linked problems of loyalty, faith, and identity.”58 The audience’s willingness to accept a medieval film as authentic relies on how effectively the film convinces the audience to relate to the struggles of the characters on screen, and how convincingly universal those struggles are made to seem. According to
Woods, “[i]t is the sensible and spiritual poignancy of [the filmmakers’] vision of human experience that makes the most engaging medieval films feel authentic; and this particular form of authenticity – realistic yet reflective – is the definitive quality of cinematic medievalism.” 59
56 William F. Woods, “Authenticating Realism in Medieval Film,” 39. 57 Ibid., 39. 58 Ibid., 41. 59 Ibid., 41. 112
While this is an interesting divergence from many discussions of authenticity which deal with the accuracy of visual, ideological, and linguistic details, it is also a less solidly defined interpretation of authenticity. A definition of authenticity based on the nebulous ideals of loyalty, faith, and identity is also susceptible to the same problems as visual signs of authenticity caused by our relative lack of knowledge of the Middle Ages. However, as we have seen, authenticity-effects do not necessarily or even mainly rely on historical accuracy – it is enough for a film to seem authentic to the audience.
Woods does acknowledge the importance of “perceptual realism” or the visual, but also draws our attention to the significance of narrative framing in establishing a movie as (authentically?) medieval:
“our first impression in a medieval film is generally formed by what we are told,” either in the form of voice-over or through written titles which construct the context for the film.60 The paratextual elements of a film are where ‘truth claims’ are often made, and the audience is inclined to allow those claims to stand unless the film is egregiously unsuccessful in sustaining the authenticity of the world it has created. Woods calls this “realism based on decorum or fittingness,” but it is a fittingness based on the specific world created by the film and by extension the corpus of medieval films that an audience is familiar with to varying degrees, rather than an ideal of historical accuracy.61 It is in the introductory and concluding voice-overs of my screenplay that I make my own truth claims, for the information provided in those voice-overs is presented as fact rather than speculation.
Like other recent scholars of medieval film, Andrew Higson avoids discussion of accuracy in terms of fidelity to a true, authentic Middle Ages, instead focusing more on “historicising the moment of production and reception of the films than of the period they are depicting.”62 He therefore addresses the issue of the business of film production, which is indeed a major factor in the determination of what
60 Ibid., 41. 61 Ibid., 47. 62 Andrew Higson, “‘Medievalism,’ the Period Film and the British Past in Contemporary Cinema,” 204. 113 and how medieval subjects are portrayed. Budgetary considerations, production values, stylistic and generic conventions, star power, and promotion are often of more concern to filmmakers than adhering to historical content or even artistic vision. In addition, audience reception is a significant concern for filmmakers, since it is, in the end, audiences who determine what is a successful movie, both at the box office and in its critical reception. And audiences expect some form of viewing pleasure, whether it is from sheer entertainment value, star presence, or provocation to thoughtful reconsideration of medieval history or current events through the lens of a medieval paradigm.
The motivation for the shift towards grimy and violent representations of the Middle Ages in film is tied in part to the truth claims and attempts at authenticity made by filmmakers, which largely
“depend on what audiences, reviewers and other commentators are prepared to treat as believable or acceptable.”63 The influence does not flow solely in one direction, however, for just as audiences influence filmmakers’ decisions regarding the sensibility of their productions, so too audiences are influenced by what they have already seen and read, and by what they have been told is authentic, as for example by films claiming authenticity through the use of historical advisors. In such cases, “the spectacle of the past and the discourse of authenticity” form part of the pleasure that the audience receives and expects from watching a film, and it can thus be used as promotional material. 64
Authenticity in film, however, is not the same as historical accuracy, as we have seen in Salih’s discussion of the creation of authenticity-effects in film, and “the medieval is in the end defined as much by generic convention, and attempts to make distinctions between the premodern and the modern,” as it is by any claims about historical accuracy.65
Andrew B. R. Elliott also argues against judging films about the Middle Ages solely in terms of
63 Ibid., 216. 64 Ibid., 217. 65 Ibid., 222. 114 what is perceived to be their historical accuracy, because, he contends, those same criticisms can also be levelled against conventional methods of written historiography. The difficulty lies with the assumption that there is a single, true history from which films digress, for even within written history the ‘facts’ are subject to interpretation and affected by their presentation. “The three ‘problems’ of history on film,” Elliott argues, “are that the narrative, the montage and the ideologies of films serve to distort the historical record and reveal the inherent inaccuracies made along the way,” but these are also
‘problems’ that obtain in traditional written histories.66 Some form of narrative is necessary for us to be able to understand history, whether it is written or cinematic; criticisms of historical cinematic narratives are therefore not of the narrative form itself, but of “the authority of the human agent to shape [it].”67 As Martha Driver states, we have much to learn about the ways that we interact with history by studying films about the Middle Ages, for “film itself is interpretive, just as scholarship, history, and primary sources themselves are interpretive.”68
Regarding the use of montage in film, Elliott makes the point that a viewer or reader will create an “imagined line of causation” based on the order in which events are presented.69 Thus a reader of the
Anglo-Saxon Chronicle will be likely to interpret the battle of Maldon as the instigating cause of the policy of Danegeld based on the fact that payment of tribute is first mentioned immediately following the brief description of the English loss of the battle, and in spite of the fact that the chronicler never explicitly describes this one battle as the direct and sole cause of the new policy. The way in which
‘facts’ are recounted allows the audience to fill in the narrative blanks in order to ascribe cause and effect significance to the images presented; however, “we must recognize that the association of the
66 Elliott, Remaking the Middle Ages, 10. 67 Ibid., 17. 68 Martha W. Driver, “What’s Accuracy Got to Do with It? Historicity and Authenticity in Medieval Film,” 21. 69 Elliott, Remaking the Middle Ages, 20. Elliott uses the term ‘montage’ to describe the way and the order that images are presented on-screen – a much broader definition than the common understanding of ‘montage’ epitomized in the training scenes in Rocky. 115 ideas [is] not only the result of careful editing (and therefore a product of authorial intention), but it also depend[s] for its power on the willingness of the subjects to connect the images in a causal sequence (and is therefore equally a product of the audience's predisposition to associate images in this way).”70 After several years of the inconsistent application of the policy of paying off the raiders from across the sea, readers of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle might be more likely to associate the institution of the policy with one unsuccessful battle rather than a series of events. The ‘montage’ or order of presentations of events in the Chronicle implies that one is the direct result of the other. Filmmakers must be aware, to a certain extent, of the pre-existing knowledge and assumptions that an audience will bring to its understanding of the film and more specifically the time period represented in the film; in turn, an audience's knowledge will often be largely dependent on previous interactions with popular culture.
This brings us to the third ‘problem’ identified by Elliott, which is that of the effect of current cultural, political, and social ideologies on the way that medieval history is presented on film, and the effect that these ideologies have on the perceptions of the audience. Elliott opposes viewing medieval films solely through the “potentially patronizing position” that they are an indicator of the way that people who lived during the particular time period of the film’s production understood and interacted with history.71 I would argue that considerations of ideology and politics in discussions of medieval film should not entirely be discounted, for it would be unrealistic to assume that filmmakers are exclusively concerned with presenting history. There are many other factors at play during a film's production, and included in these may be – and certainly at times are – propagandistic and ideological motivations, not unlike the possible ideological motivations behind the The Battle of Maldon. However,
I agree with Elliott that to focus on medieval films merely as a barometer of contemporary culture 70 Ibid., 22; original emphasis. 71 Ibid., 23. 116 ignores many of the other factors involved in making the film, including genuine attempts at practicing history. Rather than dismissing entirely the efforts of filmmakers to portray history, we should recognize that “the subjective perception of events and the individual approach of the filmmakers affects the histories which are being told.”72 We must, however, keep in mind that the same arguments can be made for written history, and that, as Driver argues, “[openness] to a variety of representations... can freshen our historical perspectives, awakening us as well to the cultural attitudes and agendas underpinning those interpretations.”73 By examining depictions of the Middle Ages on film, we can learn about the ways that we understand and interpret history, in addition to learning the history itself.
As a poetic account of a historical event, The Battle of Maldon is an obvious choice for an exploration of some of the ways that history is remembered and recorded, and it lends itself well to cinematic adaptation. Although the main narrative of the epic poem Beowulf is fantastic, not historical, two recent film adaptations of this poem also explore the poetic memorialization of heroic actions and illuminate some of the issues surrounding artistic representations of history. Both Robert Zemeckis’
Beowulf (2007; probably the better-known of the two) and Sturla Gunnarsson’s Beowulf and Grendel
(2005) highlight the discrepancy between the events as they take place in their plots and the ways in which they are later recounted. My screenplay is similarly intended to question the reliability of our knowledge of past events, especially when they are told in a poetic form, and in response to scholars like F.M. Stenton who have used the poem as a historical source. In Zemeckis’ Beowulf, it is Beowulf himself who manipulates his story, lying by implication to Hrothgar about what had happened when he confronted Grendel’s mother in her cavern. Not wanting to admit that he had been seduced and had traded a golden horn for riches, renown, and kingship, Beowulf sidesteps Hrothgar’s direct question about whether or not Beowulf killed Grendel’s mother, replying with the question, “[w]ould I have 72 Ibid., 22. 73 Driver, “Accuracy,” 19-20. 117 been able to escape her, had I not?”74 This version of the events that took place in the cavern – that
Beowulf fought bravely with Grendel’s mother and defeated her – then becomes an integral part of the story that is retold every year on the anniversary of Beowulf’s crowning. In this way the Old English poem is referenced in the film, for a small section is recited in Old English at Beowulf’s celebration. It is only many years later, as he is dying, that Beowulf attempts to correct the tale of his struggle with
Grendel and Grendel’s mother, but Wiglaf restates that Beowulf killed Grendel’s mother long ago.
Beowulf’s last words to Wiglaf are “[t]oo late for lies, Wiglaf. Too late...”75 As soon as the audience becomes aware of Beowulf’s deception, all of his previous boasts also come into question; by extension, all narratives about the past are exposed as uncertain and susceptible to manipulation.
Although I do not directly question the reliability of the poetic Battle of Maldon in my screenplay, the discrepancy between event and memorialization is subtly emphasized by the contrast between the scenes depicted on the animated tapestries and the live action scenes in the body of the film. If the tapestry is exaggerating the events of Byrhtnoth’s life, the accuracy of the moving tapestry of film is also brought into question.
In Beowulf and Grendel, Thorkel is the creator of the exaggerated tales of Beowulf’s brave deeds, and he freely recites these tales throughout the film to anyone who will listen, and even if no one is listening. Beowulf, on the other hand, does not appreciate these exaggerations. He interrupts Thorkel as he is telling the story of Grendel’s attack to a group of entranced children. “Go on, go off, kids,”
Beowulf says, shooing away the children. “Don’t feed them lies,” he tells Thorkel.76 The accuracy of records of heroic deeds is further undermined at the end of the film. Thorkel is reciting the tale of the
74 Beowulf, directed by Robert Zemeckis (Hollywood, CA: Paramount Pictures and Shangri-La Entertainment, LLC, 2007), Chapter 9. DVD. 75 Ibid., Chapter 14. 76 Beowulf and Grendel, directed by Sturla Gunnarrsson (Grendel Productions Inc., Beowulf Productions Ltd., 2006), Chapter 6. DVD. 118 recent slaughter of Grendel, quoting the lines from the poem which refer to Grendel as the kin of Cain.
Thorfinn asks Breca who Cain is, and Breca explains that Cain is a “man who killed his brother...
Thorkel’s saying that Grendel is like Cain, a killer.” “We all are,” Thorfinn replies, pointing out that although the newly-created poetic record of recent events describes Grendel as an evil monster and man-killer, and Beowulf and his troops as the vanquishing heroes, there is in reality no difference between them.77 Indeed, Gunnarsson’s Grendel more closely resembles a human, or perhaps a remnant
Neanderthal ancestor of humans, than the monster as depicted in Zemeckis’ Beowulf. Both Grendels speak a kind of language, but Zemeckis’ Grendel is monstrously large and deformed beyond any possibility of mistaking him for human. Gunnarsson’s Grendel, on the other hand, though very tall, is of human proportions, and his slight facial deformations could be the product of some genetic defect. It is the label of ‘troll’ that Hrothgar applies to Grendel which makes him other than human, rather than any intrinsic quality.
Both films interrogate the reliability of our knowledge of past events that is based on what we have been told by others. While the films are set in a world of fantasy, they also question the ‘reality’ of the fantastical and heroic elements of the stories by setting up their source as unreliable. Although these two films deal with a fantastical rather than a historical tale, the same scepticism should be applied to
The Battle of Maldon, which, it must be remembered, is a heroic poem based on a historical event, and not a historical record.78 The heroic language used in The Battle of Maldon places it within a tradition of epic tales which are known for their skilful telling of brave deeds and adventurous journeys, not for their adherence to facts. However, while The Battle of Maldon resembles Beowulf in that they both seem to be attempting to memorialize their heroes as mythic, larger-than-life figures, Maldon tempts us
77 Ibid., Chapter 12. 78 Even if it were a historical record, Elliott has pointed out that the same questions regarding reliability that we ask of the poem can also be asked of formal, academic histories. 119 to believe in the reality of its depiction of heroism because we know that there is some kind of truth to the poem.
In Beowulf and Grendel, Beowulf’s focus on uncovering the ‘truth’ leads him to question
Hrothgar’s version of the motivation behind Grendel’s animosity towards Hrothgar and his troops.
While Hrothgar at first makes no mention of his responsibility for Grendel’s attacks, Beowulf’s conversations with the witch Selma lead him to question Grendel’s motivations, and Beowulf continues to probe for the reasons behind Grendel’s attacks. Eventually he discovers what the audience already knows from a flashback scene at the beginning of the movie: Grendel is attacking Hrothgar and his men (only men of fighting age, and no women or children) because Hrothgar had killed Grendel’s father when Grendel was a boy. Grendel was witness to this slaughter, but Hrothgar could not bring himself to kill the young ‘troll.’ When Beowulf asks why Hrothgar killed Grendel’s father, Hrothgar explains that “[h]e crossed our path. Took a fish.”79 Thus the men become the monsters with no reasonable motivation for killing, while Grendel’s motivations are exposed as justified. Conversely, the use of the word ofermod in The Battle of Maldon perhaps hints at Byrhtnoth’s secret, overwhelming desire for glory, motivating him to make unwise decisions on the battlefield and decreasing his heroic status. In both Beowulf films, the righteousness of the heroes and the evilness of Grendel are subverted, implying that heroic tales are never as straightforward as they appear. In the poem The Battle of
Maldon, the word ofermod has often been interpreted as evidence of the same kind of undermining of what might otherwise be considered a relatively straightforward heroic construction because interpretations of the word as a negative attribute complicate Byrhtnoth’s character. In my screenplay, I chose to portray a subtle and ambiguous interpretation of ofermod, rather than using it to emphasize the uncertainty of Byrhtnoth’s heroism. In contrast to the Beowulf films, I also chose to retain the
79 Beowulf and Grendel, Chapter 10. 120 simplified portrayal of the Viking antagonists as found in the poem. Their motives for coming to
Englalond are clear and uncomplicated: they want riches, and while they would prefer to be given tribute, they will fight for gold if they have to. There is no dark, secret wrongdoing that Byrhtnoth had performed for which the Vikings are seeking vengeance, and they are a foil for the heroism of
Byrhtnoth and his troops rather than fully developed characters in their own right.
In some ways, then, it could be argued that I have remained more faithful to my original poetic source than the Beowulf films have done. However, both the Beowulf films and my screenplay have made significant changes to the source in the process of adapting the poem for film. It would be impossible to adapt all of the poetic Beowulf’s three thousand lines of digressive storytelling into a two- hour film, and the filmmakers of Beowulf and Beowulf and Grendel each selected those portions of the poem which they felt made a cohesive plot line, and to those lines they added new material in order to explain the motivations behind the characters’ actions. In contrast, the three hundred lines of The Battle of Maldon proved too brief even for a short film, and I added background material in the form of flashbacks in order to lengthen the screenplay as well as to inspire more sympathy from the audience for Byrhtnoth and his troops.
Bildhauer asserts that medieval films are often based on “three deeper assumptions about the
Middle Ages: that they were allegedly less reliant on linear time, on writing and on individualism than modernity.”80 In spite of the tendency of medieval film to subscribe to assumptions and simplifications of medieval worlds and mentalities, Bildhauer maintains that the range and variety of ways in which these films interact with those assumptions means that they should nonetheless be taken seriously.
Although medieval films are not often subject to rigorous academic review in the process of their creation, they still have “critical as well as reactionary potential as legitimate engagements with
80 Bildhauer, Filming the Middle Ages, 11. 121 history.”81 Bildhauer and Bernau posit that medieval film is a uniquely suitable medium for exposing and exploring the ways in which the past and the present are mutually influential. Rather than considering these two concepts as separate and connected only through causality or analogy, medieval film exposes how “what is important happens not in the present or the past, but in the interaction between the two.”82 As a medium that often combines several layers of a-chronology, medieval film uncovers the ways in which time, history, and memory are less certain than is often believed.
I try to convey this sense of uncertainty about time, history, and memory in my screenplay, by including cinematic techniques and narrative structures which both support and undermine an impression of historical accuracy. While I want to avoid as much as possible any modern anachronisms,
I deliberately mix tenth-century Anglo-Saxon history with the traditional Germanic warrior ethic depicted in the poem, imitating the uncertain temporality of the poetic Battle of Maldon. It is almost certain that some of my twenty-first century thought patterns were unconsciously transmitted in my writing, but I hope that my screenplay and imagined film will be judged not solely or even for the most part on an impossible standard of historical accuracy, but on the respectful and responsible way that I create a feeling of authenticity, both in historical detail and the general sensibility of the narrative and the characters.
81 Ibid., 8. 82 Bildhauer and Bernau, “Introduction,” 15. 122
Conclusion: History Recovered
Writing a short screenplay is just the beginning, and the effects of a cinematic version of The
Battle of Maldon must remain conjectural until a film is produced. However, it is clear that an artistic representation of the poem, which is itself an artistic representation of a historical event, can illuminate the ways that we interact with and understand history and cultural memories. Reading or listening to the poem in Old English is a unique experience, but one that remains inaccessible to the majority of people, and it also cannot replicate an Anglo-Saxon’s experience of the poem. The Battle of Maldon: the Movie is not an attempt to recreate the Anglo-Saxon experience of the battle’s commemoration, but to create a modern analogue and bring the story of Byrhtnoth and his brave companions to a wider audience. Many scholars have attempted to determine how much and which parts of the poem are historically accurate and to trace those elements which are not factual to a common heroic tradition, and it was essential that I do the same in preparation for writing my screenplay. I attempted to construct a responsible recreation of a historical battle that was remembered in a particular way by the surviving family members, friends, and companions of the men who died on August 10th or 11th, 991 A.D. Rather than merely transcribing the action and dialogue of the poem into modern, cinematic language, I added scenes to the screenplay that I hoped would make explicit to a modern audience those aspects of the poem which had implied meanings that would have been understood by an Anglo-Saxon audience.
Instead of using Modern English to its full capacity, I limited the dialogue’s vocabulary to words of Old
English origin as much as possible. In addition to the more ‘realistic’ or factual elements of the battle found in my screenplay (including the references to past events that are recorded in the Anglo-Saxon
Chronicle and the transcription of Wulfbold and his family’s crimes and penalties), I included not only the heroic and perhaps archaic speeches of the warriors on the battlefield, but also scenes of a 123 ceremony which is already ancient by the tenth century, and which is referred to as such by Byrhtnoth and his retainers. The indistinct separation between fact and fiction in the poem is recreated in the screenplay, and illustrates the ambiguity of our knowledge about historical events, an ambiguity which is often ignored in favour of the comforting illusion that we can ever know with certainty what has happened in the past. 124
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Trilling, Renée R. The Aesthetics of Nostalgia: Historical Representation in Old English Verse. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2009.
Waugh, Robin, and James Weldon. Introduction to The Hero Recovered: Essays on Medieval Heroism in Honor of George Clark. Edited by Robin Waugh and James Weldon. Kalamazoo, MI: Medieval Institute, Western Michigan University, 2010. 1-20.
Woolf, Rosemary. “The Ideal of Men Dying with their Lord in the Germania and in The Battle of Maldon.” Anglo-Saxon England 5 (1976): 63-81.
Medieval Film
Aberth, John. A Knight at the Movies: Medieval History on Film. New York: Routledge, 2003. Print.
Bernau, Anke. “‘Poison to the infant, but tonic to the man’: timing The Birth of a Nation.” Medieval Film. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2009. 86-109.
Bildhauer, Bettina. Filming the Middle Ages. London: Reaktion Books Ltd., 2011.
---. "Forward into the Past: Film Theory’s Foundation in Medievalism." Medieval Film. Edited by Anke Bernau and Bettina Bildhauer. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2009. 40-59.
Bildhauer, Bettina and Anke Bernau. “Introduction: The A-chronology of Medieval Film.” Medieval Film. Edited by Anke Bernau and Bettina Bildhauer. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2009. 1-19.
Burt, Richard. “Border Skirmishes: Weaving Around the Bayeux Tapestry and Cinema in Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves and El Cid.” Medieval Film. Edited by Anke Bernau and Bettina Bildhauer. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2009. 158-181.
---. “Getting Schmedieval: Of Manuscript and Film Prologues, Paratexts, and Parodies.” Exemplaria 19.2 (2007): 217-242, doi: 10.1179/175330707X212840.
---. Medieval and Early Modern Film and Media. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2008.
Driver, Martha W. “‘Stond and Delyver:’ Teaching the Medieval Movie.” The Medieval Hero on Screen: Representations from Beowulf to Buffy. Edited by Martha W. Driver and Sid Ray. Jefferson, North Carolina: McFarland & Company, Inc., Publishers, 2004. 211-216.
---. “What’s Accuracy Got to Do with It? Historicity and Authenticity in Medieval Film.” The Medieval Hero on Screen: Representations from Beowulf to Buffy. Edited by Martha W. Driver and Sid Ray. Jefferson, North Carolina: McFarland & Company, Inc., Publishers, 2004. 19-22. 131
Driver, Martha W. and Sid Ray. “Preface: Hollywood Knights.” The Medieval Hero on Screen: Representations from Beowulf to Buffy. Edited by Martha W. Driver and Sid Ray. Jefferson, North Carolina: McFarland & Company, Inc., Publishers, 2004. 5-18.
Elliot, Andrew B.R. Remaking the Middle Ages: The Methods of Cinema and History in Portraying the Medieval World. Jefferson, North Carolina: McFarland & Company, Inc., Publishers, 2011.
Finke, Laura A. and Martin B. Schichtman. Cinematic Illuminations: The Middle Ages on Film. Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2010.
Ganim, John M. “Medieval noir: anatomy of a metaphor.” Medieval Film. Edited by Anke Bernau and Bettina Bildhauer. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2009. 182-202.
Grindley, Carl James. “The Hagiography of Steel: The Hero's Weapon and Its Place in Pop Culture.” The Medieval Hero on Screen: Representations from Beowulf to Buffy. Edited by Martha W. Driver and Sid Ray. Jefferson, North Carolina: McFarland & Company, Inc., Publishers, 2004. 151-166.
Harty, Kevin J. The Reel Middle Ages: American, Western and Eastern European, Middle Eastern and Asian Films About Medieval Europe. Jefferson, North Carolina: McFarland & Company, Inc., Publishers, 1999.
Haydock, Nickolas. Movie Medievalism: The Imaginary Middle Ages. Jefferson, North Carolina: McFarland & Company, Inc., Publishers, 2008.
Higson, Andrew. “‘Medievalism,’ the period film and the British past in contemporary cinema.” Medieval Film. Edited by Anke Bernau and Bettina Bildhauer. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2009. 203-224.
Jewers, Caroline. “Hard Day's Knights: First Knight, A Knight’s Tale, and Black Knight.” The Medieval Hero on Screen: Representations from Beowulf to Buffy. Edited by Martha W. Driver and Sid Ray. Jefferson, North Carolina: McFarland & Company, Inc., Publishers, 2004. 192-210.
Lindley, Arthur. “The Ahistoricism of Medieval Film.” Screening the Past 3 (May 1998). http://tlweb.latrobe.edu.au/humanities/screeningthepast/firstrelease/fir598/ALfr3a.htm.
---. “Scotland Saved from History: Welles’ Macbeth and the Ahistoricism of Medieval Film.” Literature Film Quarterly 29, no. 2 (April 2001): 96-100. Academic Search Elite, EBSCOhost (accessed March 24, 2013).
O'Sullivan, Carol. “A Time of Translation: Linguistic Difference and Cinematic Medievalism.” Medieval Film. Edited by Anke Bernau and Bettina Bildhauer. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2009. 60-85. 132
Ray, Sid. “Time Bandits: Contemporary Appropriations.” The Medieval Hero on Screen: Representations from Beowulf to Buffy. Edited by Martha W. Driver and Sid Ray. Jefferson, North Carolina: McFarland & Company, Inc., Publishers, 2004. 147-150.
Salih, Sarah. “Cinematic Authenticity-effects and Medieval Art: A Paradox.” Medieval Film. Edited by Anke Bernau and Bettina Bildhauer. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2009. 20-39.
Walker, Alison Tara. “Towards a theory of medieval film music.” Medieval Film. Edited by Anke Bernau and Bettina Bildhauer. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2009. 137-157.
Woods, William F. “Authenticating Realism in Medieval Film.” The Medieval Hero on Screen: Representations from Beowulf to Buffy. Edited by Martha W. Driver and Sid Ray. Jefferson, North Carolina: McFarland & Company, Inc., Publishers, 2004. 38-51.
Theory and Miscellany
Bordwell, David, and Kristin Thompson. Film Art: An Introduction. 10th ed. New York: McGraw-Hill, 2013.
Eco, Umberto. “Dreaming of the Middle Ages.” Travels in Hyperreality: Essays. Translated by William Weaver. San Diego: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, Publishers, 1983. 61-72.
---. “Living in the New Middle Ages.” Travels in Hyperreality: Essays. Translated by William Weaver. San Diego: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, Publishers, 1983. 73-85.
Franco, Zeno E., Kathy Blau, and Philip G. Zimbardo. “Heroism: A Conceptual Analysis and Differentiation Between Heroic Action and Altruism.” Review of General Psychology. Advance online publication (April 11, 2011): 1-15. doi: 10.1037/a0022672
Hutcheon, Linda. A Theory of Adaptation. New York: Routledge, 2006.
Klapp, Orrin E. “The Creation of Popular Heroes.” American Journal of Sociology 54, no. 2 (September 1948): 135-141. http://www.jstor.org/stable/2771362
---. “Heroes, Villains and Fools, as Agents of Social Control.” American Sociological Review, 19, no. 1 (February 1954): 56-62, http://www.jstor.org/stable/2088173.
Metz, Christian. Film Language: A Semiotics of the Cinema. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1974.
Mulvey, Laura. Death 24x a Second: Stillness and the Moving Image. London: Reaktion Books Ltd., 2006.
Pollington, Stephen. The Mead Hall: The Feasting Tradition in Anglo-Saxon England. Frithgarth, England: Anglo-Saxon Books, 2003. 133
Rosen, Philip. Change Mummified: Cinema, Historicity, Theory. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2001.
Rosenstone, Robert A. Visions of the Past: The Challenge of Film to Our Idea of History. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1995.
Sternberg, Meir. “Polylingualism as Reality and Translation as Mimesis.” Poetics Today 2, no. 4 (1981): 221-239, http://www.jstor.org/stable/1772500.
White, Hayden. “Historiography and Historiophoty.” The History on Film Reader. Edited by Marnie Hughes-Warrington. London: Routledge, 2009. 53-59.