The Horrific 6th-Century Story Of Two Brothers Who Were Murdered During A Wedding Celebration

Gregory of Tours (c. 539-594) wrote the History of the Franks, an account of the rise of Frankish power in Europe, tracing its ascendance from the dying days of the Western Roman Empire to Gregory’s own time in the 6th century. Although the scope of Gregory’s text mainly rests on the lives of the infighting Merovingian monarchs of the Frankish Empire, the historian often digressed into tales about other subjects. As Gregory was the bishop of Tours, many such tales were religious in nature, featuring saints or saintly people. Yet, Gregory also had an eye for heroism and tragedy. If the gossip grapevine brought a particularly impressive noble deed or a dastardly crime to the ear of Gregory of Tours, he would find a way to file an account of the event into his text.

One especially heinous event reportedly occurred in Gregory’s own bishopric, in Tours, sometime during the last decades of the 6th century. As the story goes, a resident of Tours named Lupus lived an exceedingly sorrowful life—he had lost his wife and all of his children, perhaps to a deadly epidemic that struck the region in 580. After losing everything dear to him, Lupus began to increasingly feel a calling to abandon the material world and join a monastery.

Although Lupus’ wife and children had died, one of his brothers was still alive. The sibling’s name was Ambrosius, and although he cared deeply for Lupus, he greatly disagreed with his brother’s plans to become a monk. In Ambrosius’ mind, the best way for Lupus to move on in life and to find happiness was for him to remarry. Therefore, Ambrosius delayed Lupus from donating his property to the church or from joining a monastery, while also diligently scouring the country in search of a match for his brother.

Ambrosius’ matchmaking was a success, and he was able to find a potential wife for his brother before Lupus made his vow of celibacy. The couple got along quite well and around 582—two years after the deadly epidemic—Lupus decided to marry this new woman. As a show of thanks to his brother, Lupus went to visit Ambrosius, so that they could celebrate the marriage and exchange wedding presents. Yet, instead of a time of celebration, Lupus’ stay with Ambrosius turned into a scene of horror.

The matchmaker Ambrosius, ironically enough, was himself not in a happy marriage. His wife, according to Gregory of Tours, had long been having an extramarital affair with a devoted lover, to whom she vented all of the many reasons why she hated her husband.  Unfortunately for poor ill-fated Lupus, he arrived on his brother’s property the very day that Ambrosius’ wife decided to lash out against her husband.

During the wedding celebration for Lupus, Ambrosius’ wife did a zealous job keeping the brothers’ cups filled with drinks. Ambrosius and Lupus partied late into the night, both eventually collapsing from exhaustion and inebriation. Ambrosius’ angry wife, at this point, reportedly let into the home her clandestine lover, who was armed with a sword. As the wife watched on, the man with the sword tip-toed to where the brothers were asleep. With one strong chop, the man reportedly drove his sword into Ambrosius’ head, killing him instantly. The wife and her lover may have been trying to frame Lupus for the murder, but the blow of the sword caused such a loud impact that it awoke the unlucky brother. Lupus was still in a daze from his partying, and it took him no small amount of time to survey the scene of carnage and understand what the grisly sight meant.

The murderer and the now happily-widowed wife of Ambrosius had left the scene of the crime immediately after the murder. While Lupus, with his muddled mind, slowly began to piece together what had happened, the murderous lovers silently shuffled for the door. Nevertheless, before the killers could exit the home, Lupus—always the unlucky one—recovered from his shock and confusion and began screaming bloody murder. The shouting frightened the murderers, prompting the armed killer to rush back into the room, where he hacked at Lupus with his sword until the man stopped shouting and fell into unconsciousness. With the witness silenced, the widow and her lover fled from the city of Tours.

Although the murderers escaped, Lupus’ screams reportedly caught the attention of neighbors, causing concerned citizens to eventually wandered over to the home to investigate. There, they found the blood-spattered room where Ambrosius and Lupus had been partying. Ambrosius had instantly died from his head wound, but Lupus, sliced and stabbed an untold amount of times, miraculously was still alive by the time neighbors arrived. Lupus’ wounds, however, were fatal. After giving a statement of what had happened on that horrific night, he quickly died. Tragically, in an age without photographs, video surveillance or electronic tracking, the widow and her murderous lover apparently escaped capture and were never brought to justice.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (The Assassination painted by Charles Landseer (1799–1879), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The History of the Franks by Gregory of Tours, translated by Lewis Thorpe. New York: Penguin Classics, 1971.

The Dramatic Love Story Of Pappolen And A Bishop’s Niece

Bishop Felix of Nantes led his bishopric from the year 547 to 582, and did an admirable enough job to be recognized as a saint by his countrymen and the church. Praise for Bishop Felix, however, was not unanimous. A contemporary saint, Bishop Gregory of Tours (c. 539-594), decried Felix of Nantes as a long-winded, greedy and arrogant man. Such negative labels were no doubt influenced by a decades-long personal feud between St. Felix and St. Gregory, and they were known to send each other insulting letters from time to time. Unfortunately for St. Felix, Gregory of Tours wrote The History of the Franks, and between describing the actions of the lords and ladies of the realm, St. Gregory made sure to add some embarrassing stories and descriptions of his ecclesiastical rival. One such tale recounted the dramatic courtship of St. Felix’s niece by a persistent man named Pappolen.

As told by Gregory, Pappolen and St. Felix’s niece (left unfortunately unnamed) were madly in love and engaged to be married. Cruel uncle Felix, however, did not approve of the match and quickly forbade the marriage from going forward. The distraught niece was told never to see Pappolen again, and, as a more definitive move, she was summarily quarantined to a small chapel. In response to this, Pappolen, a man of unknown rank, gathered a militia of his friends and family, then marched to the chapel to rescue his beloved. The rescue mission succeeded, and the reunited couple fled to the church of Saint Albinus in Angers, where they sought sanctuary together.

Unfortunately for Pappolen and the niece, Bishop Felix was determined to separate the couple. The saint plied his influence in church and government to have his niece retrieved from the church of Saint Albinus. With his rebellious kinswoman back in custody, Bishop Felix immediately sent her back into confinement. Learning from the past, the saint decided a private chapel was not secure enough for his lovestruck niece. This time, he had her shipped off to the south and arranged for the niece to be placed in a convent at Bazas. With such distance and security separating the pair, Pappolen and the niece could only continue their relationship by smuggling letters to each other with the help of sympathetic couriers.

Fortune changed for the long-parted couple, however, when Bishop Felix of Nantes was stricken with disease and died in 582. When news of the bishop’s death became known to Pappolen and his detained beloved, their clandestine correspondence soon turned to thoughts of another prison break. Unfortunately, Gregory of Tours did not mention any detail of the escape, so whether Pappolen used stealth or force remains unknown. Yet, the mission, whichever way it was carried out, proved to be a great success. According to Gregory of Tours, “He [Pappolen] organized her escape from the nunnery, and married her. He had the King’s formal approval, so that she was able to disregard the threats of her relations” (The History of The Franks, VI.16). After their long-overdue and royally-backed marriage, Pappolen and the niece, as far as we know, lived happily ever after.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Tristan and Isolde painted by Edmund Leighton (1852–1922), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The History of the Franks by Gregory of Tours, translated by Lewis Thorpe. New York: Penguin Classics, 1971.
• http://csla.history.ox.ac.uk/record.php?recid=E02187 
• https://www.bartleby.com/210/7/075.html  

Snæbjorn Eyvindsson’s Hunt For His Kinswoman’s Murderer

Snæbjorn Eyvindsson was a 9th-century Icelander who was said to have lived at Vatnsfjord. He was close friends with Tongue-Odd, a cousin of his who lived not too far away, somewhere between the Hvit and Reykjadale rivers. The two kinsmen visited each other often and worked closely together on issues that threatened their livelihood and families. Snæbjorn was on one such visit at Tongue-Odd’s estate, when a man named Hallbjorn arrived on the property. This Hallbjorn came from a wealthy, landholding family on Iceland, and his purpose for visiting Odd’s estate was evidently to search for a wife.

Tongue-Odd had a beautiful daughter named Hallgerd, who was said to have possessed the finest head of hair in all of Iceland. Upon arriving at the estate, Hallbjorn liked what he saw and quickly began negotiating with Tongue-Odd on a possible marriage between himself and Hallgerd. Tongue-Odd, impressed by Hallbjorn’s wealthy kinsmen, apparently agreed to the proposal without paying much heed to Hallgerd’s own wishes, and the marriage took place immediately. Thankfully for the surprised bride, Hallbjorn decided to spend the rest of that winter at Tongue-Odd’s estate, allowing Hallgerd to get to know her new husband in a more familiar setting, with her father, Odd, and her kinsman, Snæbjorn, both nearby.

Unfortunately, as the winter progressed, everyone present on the tense estate could tell that there was no chemistry between the bride and groom. Hallgerd showed no interest in her husband, at all, and mainly stayed secluded in a room, spending the days brushing and combing her renowned hair. Hallbjorn, on the other hand, looked on his unhappy wife with only the longing of lust, but with none of the care and affection of love. Tongue-Odd tried in every way he could imagine to make his daughter and son-in-law grow closer together, yet all of his efforts failed. As the winter came to a close, both Tongue-Odd and his cousin Snæbjorn knew that the marriage was an utter disaster. The two kinsmen, however, likely could not have imagined just how horribly the rushed marriage would turn out.

When spring arrived, Snæbjorn departed from Odd’s estate and went to Kjalvararstead. Before long, Tongue-Odd, too, was drawn away from the homestead by business that needed tending to in Reykholt. Hallbjorn, left alone with his wife and the estate’s farmhands, became eager to leave for his own family lands. By May, Hallbjorn was ready to depart from the place, regardless of what his wife wanted.

On a fateful day late in May, while Snæbjorn and Tongue-Odd were still away, Hallbjorn gathered his gear and saddled a set of horses for himself and his wife, determined to leave the homestead at all costs. When all was prepared, Hallbjorn went into the house and found Hallgerd in her usual spot—secluded in a room and brushing her hair. As the story goes, Hallbjorn burst into Hallgerd’s reclusive haven and demanded that she come along. According to the Book of Settlements, Hallgerd not only refused to budge from the spot, but also refrained from gracing Hallbjorn with even a single word of answer. At this point, the situation became violent. Hallbjorn, infuriated, grabbed hold of Hallgerd’s arm or clothing, and tried to drag her to the horses. Hallgerd, however, was a match for her husband in strength and she remained firmly seated, despite all of the pulling. When Hallbjorn realized his muscles were not enough to dislodge his wife, he resorted to the lowly move of hairpulling. Yet, even while yanking at handfuls of his wife’s famous hair, Hallbjorn could not make Hallgerd budge from the room. Hallbjorn’s final move, unfortunately, was one that Hallgerd could not thwart. Enraged by his wife’s resistance and formidable strength, Hallbjorn grabbed a sword and murdered his wife, where she sat, in Tongue-Odd’s home. After the attack, Hallbjorn fled for friendly territory with two loyal companions.

Even though Hallbjorn had committed the gruesome crime while Tongue-Odd and Snæbjorn were away, the murder did not go unwitnessed. Farmhands had been at the homestead when the assault occurred, and they quickly pieced together what happened. The farmhands then sent an account of the dark events to Tongue-Odd in Reykholt and Snæbjorn in Kjalvararstead. As soon as the two kinsmen received the horrible news, they were immediately bent upon revenge. Tongue-Odd, too distraught, old or conflicted to lead the manhunt, decided to leave the task of seeking revenge in the capable hands of his cousin. Snæbjorn, given control of the operation, gathered eleven men and set out to confront Hallbjorn.

Snæbjorn and his party quickly intercepted Hallbjorn in a hilly region, and they intended to show no mercy. The murderer and his two companions took the defensible high ground on one of the hills as the pursuers approached. A costly skirmish ensued, in which the place of battle moved from hill to hill. Although highly outnumbered, Hallbjorn and his companions fought well, and the murderer continued to battle on long after his two friends had been cut down. According to the Book of Settlements, five of Snæbjorn’s followers fell before Hallbjorn was finally killed, avenging the death of the murdered Hallgerd.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribute: (illustration for the Saga of Olaf Tryggvason drawn by Christian Krohg (1852–1925), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The Book of Settlements (Sturlubók version) translated by Hermann Pálsson and Paul Edwards. Winnipeg: University of Manitoba Press, 1972, 2006.

The Deadly Wedding Feast Of Tian Fen

Tian Fen was not a man to be trifled with—as the younger brother of Empress Wang, Tian Fen was the brother-in-law of Emperor Jing (r. 157-141 BCE) and also the uncle of Emperor Wu (r. 141-87 BCE). Furthermore, he was the marquis of Wuan, a chancellor of China and, in 135 BCE, he took a lead role in the regency council that advised Emperor Wu.

Many officials in the empire were afraid of Tian Fen’s power and would not dare to speak out against him. Yet, Marquis Dou Ying, and his friend Guan Fu, were not among the timid ranks. Instead, Dou Ying and Guan Fu seemed to clash with Tian Fen every chance they could. From property disputes to personal feuds and political arguments, the two sides rarely aligned. Only in their efforts to increase the role of Confucianism in Emperor Wu’s government could Tian Fen and Dou Ying find common ground. Yet, this common interest did little to stop the two ambitious marquises from descending into an ever more bitter rivalry.

The feud between Tian Fen and Dou Ying was exacerbated by the latter’s relationship with Guan Fu, whom the historian Sima Qian (c. 145-90 BCE) described as “a very stubborn and outspoken man, especially when he had something to drink” (Shi Ji 107). As Sima Qian hinted, Guan Fu could be quite the belligerent drunk. After a few drinks, he was known to become argumentative, and, on particularly bad days, it was not unheard of for Guan Fu to end up in drunken brawls. Unsurprisingly, it was a drinking party which would eventually seal Guan Fu’s downfall.

In 131 BCE, Tian Fen became a married man. His sister, the Empress Dowager Wang, encouraged the nobles and officials of the realm to pay Tian Fen a visit and congratulate him on his marriage. These visits were basically drinking parties, where containers of alcohol would be passed around and attendees were expected to give toasts and speeches in honor of Tian Fen. Guan Fu, for his part, realized the potential danger he faced by attending such a party, and therefore initially declined his invitation. Dou Ying, however, was able to make his friend reconsider. In the end, they attended Tian Fen’s wedding party together—unfortunately, the event would not have a pleasant outcome.

Dou Ying was on his best behavior during the party, and Guan Fu also contained himself for a time. Nevertheless, as his cup continued to be refilled, Guan Fu’s control weakened, making him argumentative and less cautious about his wording. To Dou Ying’s dismay, Guan Fu eventually began making a scene. By the end of the festivities, Guan Fu had sneered at most of the high officials present at the party and had even insulted Tain Fen, despite it being his wedding feast. At this point, Dou Ying tried to drag his friend out of the party, but Tian Fen was now completely outraged—before Guan Fu could be ushered away by friends, Tian Fen had the man arrested, right then and there, at the party.

Tragically, repercussions for perceived crimes in ancient China often affected more than just the accused criminal. The case of Guan Fu was no different; instead of being content with imprisoning the belligerent drunk, Tian Fen put out warrants for the arrest of the entire Guan clan. Fortunately for the Guan family, Dou Ying and other sympathetic men of means were able to forewarn the family, allowing them to go into hiding before the authorities arrived.

With the Guan family safe, Dou Ying devoted himself to the cause of freeing his imprisoned friend. Utilizing all of his political skills and connections, Dou Ying set out to clear his pal’s name while also attempting to discredit Tian Fen. If Dou Ying had solely focused on lessening the punishment of Guan Fu and his family, he may have made progress, yet by bundling a political campaign against the feared and respected Tian Fen into this mission, Dou Ying lost many of his allies among the officials. In the end, the plan backfired—instead of freeing Guan Fu or harming Tian Fen, the result of Dou Ying’s protests was his own imprisonment. Both Guan Fu and Dou Ying were executed in 130 BCE.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (A reproduction of an earlier Tang Dynasty (618-907) work of art, the reproduction is attributed to Emperor Huizong of Song (r. 1100–1125 AD), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• Records of the Grand Historian (Shi ji) by Sima Qian, translated by Burton Watson. New York: Columbia University Press, 1993.
• http://www.chinaknowledge.de/History/Han/personstianfen.html 
• http://www.chinaknowledge.de/History/Han/personshanwudi.html 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Wudi-emperor-of-Han-dynasty  

The Interwoven Tale Of How A Singer Became An Empress And How A Servant Came To Be General-In-Chief Of China

Wei Zifu and her younger brother, Wei Qing, were children of Dame Wei, a concubine or lady-in-waiting who lived in the household of the marquis of Pingyang. Although the two siblings would eventually rise to the highest levels of Chinese society, they began their lives in humble stations—Wei Zifu became a singing girl in Princess Pingyang’s household, while Wei Qing worked as a servant.

Princess Pingyang was the sister of Emperor Wu (r. 141-87 BCE), and the emperor one day decided to pay his sister a visit. Upon the emperor’s arrival, Princess Pingyang wined and dined him, throwing a feast in his honor. As well as food and drink, the princess also provided entertainment. The highlight of the evening was a song performed by Wei Zifu, a performance which left Emperor Wu completely smitten with the singer. Wei Zifu reportedly encouraged his interest and, as Emperor Wu’s historian and palace secretary put it, the emperor “bestowed his favour on her” before the day was done (Sima Qian, Shi Ji 49). Thoroughly pleased with the singing girl’s company, Emperor Wu arranged with Princess Pingyang for Wei Zifu to be sent to the imperial palace.

Although Wei Zifu had caught the emperor’s eye and was invited to the palace, that did not mean that she was the only woman in the emperor’s life. Quite the contrary, Emperor Wu already had an empress, Chen Jiao, whom he had married for a political alliance that put him on the throne. In addition to Empress Chen’s presence, there were many other concubines in the palace who could threaten Wei Zifu’s position.

While Wei Zifu battled it out with rival concubines and the empress for Emperor Wu’s affection, her brother, Wei Qing, slowly began to climb the social ladder back in Pingyang. He eventually left his job as a servant and momentarily became a shepherd. Yet, he disliked the occupation and once again sought out different work. He finally found his calling by joining the military, eventually becoming a horseman in service to the marquis of Pingyang. At this time, Wei Qing had no fame or recognition in the Han Empire—to his peers, he was just a common warrior. Nevertheless, despite his low profile, one powerful woman sent men to hunt down Wei Qing. The woman in question was Empress Chen, and her intentions for the young horseman were not pleasant.

From around 139-130 BCE, Empress Chen and Wei Zifu clashed for Emperor Wu’s attention. The former singing-girl had some advantages in the battle; besides her endearing personality, enticing physique and beautiful voice, Wei Zifu also had a quality that would drive any monarch mad—she was fertile. During the rival women’s near-decade battle, Wei Zifu bore Emperor Wu three daughters, whereas Empress Chen produced no children. The empress knew that if Wei Zifu ever gave birth to a boy, then the emperor would gladly and without any reservation proclaim Wei Zifu to be the new empress. Therefore, Empress Chen’s stress grew each time Wei Zifu became pregnant. Before long, Empress Chen became so distraught that she sent out agents to scour the empire for blackmail or leverage to use against Wei Zifu. As a result of this intelligence gathering, the empress learned of Wei Qing and she ultimately decided to have him kidnapped.

Empress Chen’s henchmen captured Wei Qing with ease and hauled him off to an unknown location. It is not known how long Wei Qing was held hostage, and similarly vague are the conditions Empress Chen wanted in exchange for his release. Whatever the case, Wei Zifu reportedly refused to meet the empress’ demands. After the concubine’s steadfast refusal, Empress Chen eventually ordered her henchmen to kill poor Wei Qing. Yet, as the story goes, Wei Qing’s worried friends in the army were able to track down the kidnappers and free their comrade before any serious harm was done. Once the hostage was free, a report of the incident was brought to the emperor, who found Empress Chen’s conduct displeasing. In the aftermath of the odd episode, Emperor Wu lavished rewards and titles on Wei Zifu’s relations. Her brother, the kidnapped Wei Qing, was especially favored—he became a superintendent of the palace guard and then a palace counselor.

Empress Chen eventually was deposed from her position in 130 BCE, a dramatic fall that was in high contrast to the ascendance of Wei Zifu and Wei Qing. In 129 BCE, Wei Qing achieved the rank of general in the military and by 124 BCE, he had become the general-in-chief of Emperor Wu’s forces. His sister, Wei Zifu, became a top contender for Emperor Wu’s affection after the ousting of Empress Chen and she eventually became the new empress in 128 BCE, after giving birth to a son named Liu Ju.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Mural from the Dahuting Tomb of the late Eastern Han Dynasty (25-220 AD), located in Zhengzhou, Henan province, China, excavated in 1960-1961, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The Records of the Grand Historian (Shi ji) by Sima Qian, translated by Burton Watson. New York: Columbia University Press, 1993.

The Brawl Of Noblemen Over Adultery, In The Tomb Of Saint Denis

According to the writings of Bishop Gregory of Tours (c. 539-594), a dramatic family feud broke out between two noble Parisian families in the final years of the reign of King Chilperic of the Franks (r. 561-584). As with a great many conflicts, the feud began because of love, or, in this case, a lack thereof. The two families (which Gregory never named) had been linked together through ties of marriage, with a son of one powerful family marrying a daughter from the other noble line. The politically-arranged marriage, however, was a complete failure, and it did little to unite the two rival families, much less the impassionate bride and groom. Ultimately, the unhappy wife ran away, bringing the two families to the brink of war.

The husband’s family, out for revenge, accused the runaway bride of adultery and obtained several witnesses to back their claim. They confronted the wife’s father, who was harboring her or knew where she was hiding, and demanded that he hand his daughter over for execution. The wife’s father, to his credit, refused to surrender his daughter and decried the charges as malicious lies. He rallied his kinsmen to his side, forming a united front against the husband’s family.

Although the father of the runaway bride had protected his daughter from the clutches of her husband’s family, the concerned dad still needed to clear her name of the scandalous accusations. As a God-fearing, miracle-believing, 6th-century Christian, the father decided the most definitive way to vindicate his daughter was to swear to her innocence at an altar in the tomb of Saint Denis, with the implication being that God would smite him in some way if the oath was false. The husband’s family, also God-fearing Franks, agreed to the let the bride’s father testify to his daughter’s innocence before the altar of the saint. With the agreement made, the two sides appeared at the tomb in force, both well-armed and determined to win the dispute.

Both factions crowded into the tomb of Saint Denis as the father prepared to say his oath. In a dramatic display, the protective parent strode up to the altar, struck an impressive pose by raising his arms up toward the heavens, and boldly proclaimed before the attending masses that his daughter was innocent of the charges brought against her. To the father’s relief, he was not struck by lightning, nor stricken by blindness or made mute in the aftermath of his proclamation. Instead, nothing at all happened, giving the impression that God had fact-checked the statement and found it to be correct. Nevertheless, the husband’s stubborn family was determined to have their way.

When the oath at the tomb was completed, the husband’s supporters quickly accused the father of the bride with the crime of perjuring himself before Saint Denis and God. The bride’s family was infuriated by these new allegations and tempers flared on both sides. Before long, the armed factions began shouting and shoving and, finally, they drew their weapons to fight, then and there, in the tomb. Gregory of Tours vividly described the bizarre and chaotic skirmish:

“An argument ensued, in which they all drew their swords, rushed at each other and started killing each other in front of the altar. These men were of noble birth and among the leaders of Chilperic’s court. Many received sword-wounds, the holy church was spattered with human blood, the portals were pierced with swords and javelins, and weapons were drawn in senseless anger at the very tomb of Saint Denis” (History of the Franks, V.30).

No casualty count was recorded for the tomb-side brawl, but it must not have been too bad, for nobody involved faced serious punishment. King Chilperic imposed fines and threatened excommunication on the fighters, but as soon as the fines were paid, the excommunications were lifted. Unfortunately, the king decided to hold an official inquiry into the accusations of adultery that had been brought forward by the husband’s family. Faced with a trial, the runaway wife reportedly hanged herself.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Sources:

• The History of the Franks by Gregory of Tours, translated by Lewis Thorpe. New York: Penguin Classics, 1971.

The Dangerous Divorce Of King Cenwalh Of Wessex

Cenwalh succeeded his father, Cynegils, as king of Wessex in 643. He came to power in the midst of a great power struggle in England between the mighty King Penda of Mercia and the powerful kings of Northumbria. The kings of Wessex, the eventual masters of England, were at that time only a minor player in regional politics, hemmed in by the strength of central and northern English kingdoms. Penda of Mercia had invaded Wessex in 628, during the reign of Cenwalh’s father. Unlike many of Penda’s adversaries, the monarchs of Wessex had survived the war, but the peace agreement that resolved the conflict brought them under Penda’s influence. To strengthen the bond between Mercia and Wessex, Penda’s sister married Cenwalh sometime before his ascension to the throne of Wessex in 643. Yet, as was sometimes prone to happen with arranged marriages, Cenwalh and his bride did not get along. As such, within only two years of becoming king of Wessex, Cenwalh made the dangerous decision to divorce himself from his marriage to Penda’s sister.

Cenwalh’s decision would have been safer if he had been related in marriage to a passive and non-aggressive king. Penda, however, was a bloodthirsty and irritable conqueror who would attack his neighbors for little-to-no reason. By the time that Cenwalh became king of Wessex in 643, Penda had already killed at least four rival English kings—Edwin of Northumbria (d. 632), Kings Sigebert and Ecgric of East Anglia (d. 636), and King Oswald of Northumbria (d. 642). This rampaging warrior-king was the wrathful brother of the wife whom Cenwalh wanted to divorce. Yet, despite the obvious possible consequences of his actions, King Cenwalh proceeded with his plan and divorced his Mercian bride.

King Penda responded quickly to the poor treatment of his sister by promptly invading Wessex in 645. Little is known about the battles and military maneuvering that may have taken place during Penda’s campaign into Wessex, but the result of the war was a clear Mercian victory. King Cenwalh was forced to flee from Wessex, whereupon he fled to the court of King Anna of East Anglia.

Penda, however, was a busy man with other lands to invade and kings to kill. He eventually lost interest in punishing King Cenwalh, allowing the refugee monarch of Wessex to return to his kingdom in 648. It was an opportune time for Cenwalh to leave King Anna’s court, as Penda invaded East Anglia in 653 or 654 and killed the East Anglian king.

Fortunately for Cenwalh, Penda’s luck was about to run out. In 655, the Mercians invaded Northumbria, where the forces of King Oswiu (r. 642- 670) finally put a stop to the marauding warlord. King Penda was slain at the Battle of the Winwaed near Leeds in 655. As for King Cenwalh, he remarried and continued to rule Wessex until 672. His second wife, Seaxburg, was said to have ruled in Wessex for a year after Cenwalh’s death.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (Augustine of Canterbury preaches to Ethelbert of Kent, painted by    James William Edmund Doyle  (1822–1892), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle translated by Benjamin Thorpe in 1861 and republished by Cambridge University Press, 2012.
• Bede’s Ecclesiastical History of the English People (and relevant letters), translated by Leo Sherley-Pride, R. E. Latham and D. H. Farmer. New York: Penguin Classics, 2003. 
• The Chronicle of Florence of Worcester translated by Thomas Forester. London: Petter and Galpin, originally published 1854. 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Cenwalh 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Penda
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Edwin
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Sigebert-king-of-the-East-Angles
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Saint-Oswald
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Oswiu

The Disturbing Life Swap Of Illugi The Red And Holm-Starri

A man named Illugi the Red was the fourth-generation of his family to live in Iceland, as his great-grandfather, Ulf, was the first of his ancestors to settle on the island. The Book of Settlements (Landnámabók) did not specifically date Illugi’s years of life, but it is reasonable that he lived during or not long after the so-called Age of Settlement (approximately 860-930). The Landnámabók did, however, report that Illugi the Red was the first Icelander to farm on a stretch of land called Hrauns Ridge.

Illugi the Red and his wife, Sigrid Thorarinsdottir, lived at Hrauns Ridge for an unknown amount of time, but eventually decided to move elsewhere. The couple gave their property on the ridge to a kinsman of Sigrid and then moved to Reykjadale to set up a new farm called Hofsstead, which was situated near a temple. Yet, even there, Illugi the Red was not satisfied.

After the Hofsstead farm had been constructed, Illugi the Red received an interesting proposition from a settler named Holm-Starri, who lived in the Outer-Holm region of Akranes, Iceland. For reasons unknown, Illugi the Red and Holm-Starri reportedly began negotiating an elaborate property swap. Yet, it was not only land and livestock that was being exchanged in the deal. According to the Book of Settlements, Illugi and Holm-Starri planned a complete and total life swap—including the exchange of their wives.

According to the tale, Illugi the Red finalized the deal, and, when the haggling was done, “he and Holm-Starri exchanged property, farms, wives, livestock and all” (Book of Settlements, Stulubók version, chapter 41). The women, apparently, were not involved in the negotiation and were only made privy to the terms of the agreement after the deal had been met. The bartered wives reacted to the shocking news in different ways. Holm-Starri’s wife, Jorunn Thormodsdottir, reportedly agreed to the deal and she was said to have married Illugi the Red and lived with him at Akranes. Yet, Sigrid Thorarinsdottir was distraught and in no way consented to marrying Holm-Starri. In a tragic end to the bizarre and disturbing tale, Sigrid reportedly hanged herself inside the temple near Hofsstead.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (Scene from the saga of Harald Hardrada illustrated by   Wilhelm Wetlesen (Norway 1871-1925), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The Book of Settlements (Sturlubók version) translated by Hermann Pálsson and Paul Edwards. Winnipeg: University of Manitoba Press, 1972, 2006.

The Dramatic Love Life Of Lady Nao

Many ancient Chinese consorts and concubines in the courts of emperors and kings undoubtedly led dramatic lives, but few women shared the bizarre experiences of Lady Nao. While most concubines spent a lifetime jostling with rival women in the harem of a single ruler, Lady Nao became a favored concubine of at least three different kings. What made Lady Nao’s life even more dramatic, however, was that the three kings she served were all closely related.

Little is known of Lady Nao’s origin, but she eventually became a concubine of King Liu Fei, a son of Emperor Jing, who was appointed first as the ruler of Runan, then Jiangdu, from around 155 to 129 BCE. Liu Fei was an accomplished general and when he was not flexing his muscles on the battlefield, he could be found planning the construction of new palaces and towers in his kingdom. During his reign, Lady Nao steadily worked her way up the ranks of the palace women, eventually becoming Liu Fei’s favorite concubine sometime before the king’s death around 129 BCE.

Evidently, Lady Nao was not only favored by the late King Liu Fei, but also by his heir, Liu Qian. Said to have been a man of wicked character, Liu Qian reportedly began his reign by dragging Lady Nao into scandal. The historian Sima Qian (c. 145-90 BCE) wrote, “He [Liu Qian] had also developed a great liking for his father’s favorite concubine, Lady Nao; after his father died, but before the funeral had even taken place, he sent someone at night to fetch Lady Nao and had relations with her in the mourning quarters where he was staying” (Shi Ji, 59). King Liu Qian kept Lady Nao as a concubine, and once again she became one of the king’s favorite palace women. Yet, Liu Qian’s reign quickly descended into madness and he was accused of all sorts of misdeeds. From nefarious magic, to incest and treasonous plotting, there were few crimes that were not pinned on Liu Qian. The scandalous king eventually committed suicide around 122 BCE, when agents of Emperor Wu arrived in his kingdom to investigate the charges.

Sometime after the suicide of Liu Qian, Lady Nao was invited to the court of a third king, Liu Pengzu of Zhao. Awkwardly, he was the half-brother of Liu Fei and an uncle of Liu Qian. Nevertheless, the long-lived King Liu Pengzu reportedly treated Lady Nao with great affection and gave her some much-needed stability. Liu Pengzu continued to rule until around 100 BCE or later, and no further information was recorded about Lady Nao while she remained in his kingdom.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Woman from a depiction of Qingming in peace, c. Ming dynasty (1368–1644), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The Records of the Grand Historian (Shi ji) by Sima Qian, translated by Burton Watson. New York: Columbia University Press, 1993.