The Chaotic Civil War Of Ardea In 443 BCE

In the 440s BCE, the Italian city of Ardea experienced a heavy dose of political turmoil that caused tempers and discord to flare. At the beginning of the decade, Ardea was embroiled in a land dispute with a rival city called Aricia. Years went by and neither city was able to enforce its claim on the territory. As both Ardea and Aricia were allies of Rome, they were said to have eventually sent representatives to the Romans and asked for the city to make a decision as to whether Ardea or Aricia had the better claim to the land. During the negotiations, which reportedly took place in 446 BCE, the Roman government came to a scandalous conclusion, claiming the disputed land for themselves instead of giving it to either of the rival cities.

In outrage to Rome’s decision, Ardea abruptly ended its alliance with the Romans. Yet, Rome’s controversial arbitration and the scorned city’s subsequent rage-cancellation of the alliance became topics of great debate among the different factions in Ardea. Heated partisan arguments in the city would only grow in intensity, for the then-leading party in Ardea quickly regretted the end of the alliance and almost immediately tried to resume a new partnership with the Romans. Between 445-443 BCE the leaders of Ardea were able to negotiate some sort of treaty with Rome, yet the wishy-washy policy of the city leaders only further stoked the ire of the opposition. Unfortunately, by 443 BCE, the animosity between the political factions in Ardea had descended into open civil war.

Centuries later, the Roman historian Livy (c. 59 BCE-17 CE) would comment on Ardea’s civil war in his History of Rome. Based on ancient annals, documents and histories that he had at his disposal, Livy described the conflict as a chaotic and action-packed struggle, with both warring factions pulling other Italian powers into the war. In a scene similar to the Cold War of the 20th century, Rome and its rivals used the conflict as a proxy war. The Romans gave their support to an aristocratic faction in Ardea, presumably the ruling party that had negotiated the recent treaty with Rome. The opposition movement of Ardea, dominated by commoner-oriented factions, instead reached out to Rome’s enemies, the Volscians and Aequians.

Romans, Volscians and Aequians all scrambled to help their chosen side of the civil war, ensuring that a complicated battle would soon play out at Ardea. A coalition of Volscians and Aequians were the first to arrive at the city, led by a commander named Cluilius. The Roman-aligned aristocrats reportedly still maintained control of most of the city at the time, so the Volscian-Aequian army helped the opposition forces set up a siege of the city. Yet, sieges take time, and time was a commodity that the besieging party did not have on their side, for a Roman army led by Consul Marcus Geganius Macerinus was also on its way to Ardea.

Despite the arrival of the Volscian and Aequian troops, the opposition faction could not force the ruling aristocratic party in Ardea to surrender. Instead, the aristocrats and their supporters held out until Consul Geganius arrived on the scene. The Romans, upon their arrival, went about doing what the Romans did best—they built. As the story goes, Consul Geganius’ army built a series of earthworks and forts around the Volscian-Aequian army. Simply put, the Romans reportedly besieged the besiegers. Additionally, Consul Geganius reportedly constructed a fortified passageway to the city, so that he could resupply the aristocratic party inside the city.

Cluilius and the Volscian-Aequian forces could not find a way to destroy the fortified path between the Roman army and the aristocratic faction position inside the city, much less devise a way to break free of the greater ring of Roman earthworks and forts. Trapped, and with a victory in battle unlikely, Cluilius reportedly opened up negotiations with Consul Geganius. An agreement of surrender was reached between the two, in which the Volscians and Aequians were allegedly allowed to leave Ardea, albeit only after handing over their weapons, armor and belongings to the Romans. With the city in their hands, the Roman army went to work enforcing the authority of their chosen faction on the city. As told by Livy, “Geganius restored peace to the distracted town of Ardea by executing the ringleaders of the recent troubles and turning over their property to the public funds” (History of Rome, 4.10). As for the unarmed and unarmored army of Volscians and Aequians, they were reportedly massacred in an ambush near Tusculum.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Roman Emperor Meeting With A Soldier, by Agostino Veneziano (c. 1490-1536), [Public Domain] via Smithsonian Institute Open Access and Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The History of Rome by Livy, translated by Aubrey de Sélincourt. New York: Penguin Classics, 2002.
• http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/text?doc=Perseus%3Atext%3A1999.02.0153%3Abook%3D4%3Achapter%3D10  

Emperor Wu’s Lavish Entertainment For Foreign Envoys

Emperor Wu (r. 141-87 BCE), like any powerful emperor, wanted to receive deference and respect from the weaker realms that neighbored his empire. One of the main ways that he spread his influence was through the use of his military might, which he used to expand his empire in all directions throughout the course of his reign. Yet, military might was not the only way he tried to impress and awe his neighbors—he also attempted to win over foreign dignitaries by entertaining them with feasts and spectacles that showed off the extravagant wealth and resources of his empire.

Sima Qian, Grand Historian and palace secretary of Emperor Wu, recorded for posterity a list of various ways that the emperor tried to use luxury and opulence to make visitors to his realm feel awe and reverence for the Han Empire. First of all, the emperor reportedly housed foreign visitors in grand and gorgeous lodgings. The dignitaries, however, did not stay in one place, as the emperor apparently liked to send the foreign envoys on tours of China’s greatest cities. When the foreigners were given time to rest in one place, the emperor smothered them with magnificent banquets and exotic shows.

In describing Emperor Wu’s feasts, Grand Historian Sima Qian wrote, “He entertained the foreign visitors with veritable lakes of wine and forests of meat and had them shown around to the various granaries and storehouses to see how much wealth was laid away there, astounding and overwhelming them with the breadth and greatness of the Han empire” (Shi Ji 123). As for non-edible entertainment, the emperor did not spare any expense. Showmen and exotic animals were brought in from all over the empire to impress the foreign visitors. Sima Qian wrote:

 “He would hold great wrestling matches and displays of unusual skills and all sorts of rare creatures, gathering together large numbers of people to watch…After the skills of the foreign magicians and tricksters had been imported into China, the wrestling matches and displays of unusual feats developed and improved with each year, and from this time on entertainment of this type became increasingly popular” (Shi Ji 123).

If all of the above was not enough to impress foreign envoys, the emperor still had a few options at his disposal. One such method was for the emperor to simply give the diplomats a parting gift of silks and money before they returned to their homelands.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Image of the Dahuting Tomb mural, c. 2nd-3rd century CE, [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 Linked Deaths Of Thane Liulf And Bishop Walchere

William the Conqueror, king of England from 1066 to 1087, successfully arranged for Walchere of Lorraine to become the bishop of Durham around 1072. Around the time of Walchere’s appointment to the bishopric, resistance among the newly-conquered Anglo-Saxon population to King William’s Norman rule was beginning to die down. One visible example of this growing acceptance and assimilation among the Anglo-Saxons was the case of a certain wealthy man named Liulf. During the pre-1066 heyday of the Anglo-Saxons, Liulf had been a powerful thane with landholdings scattered in several regions of England. Sometime after 1072, however, Liulf chose to accept Norman rule and decided to live out his retirement in Durham.

As an Anglo-Saxon nobleman, Liulf had business and government experience, and he attempted to cultivate a friendship with the Norman administrators in Durham by offering his advice to them on any matters that they were willing to discuss. He had some success growing closer to Bishop Walchere, but the other administrators, such as the bishop’s secular counterpart, Gilbert, never warmed to the retired thane. As Liulf grew closer to the bishop, the other Norman officials in Durham only continued to become more and more irritated with his presence. Nevertheless, Liulf was safe as long as his friendship with Bishop Walchere remained intact.

Unfortunately for Liulf, something occurred around 1080 that caused a breach between the bishop and the thane. What exactly caused the divide is unknown, but Bishop Walchere’s faith in Liulf was shaken to such a visible extent that the Norman officials operating out of Durham predicted that if they struck at their Anglo-Saxon rival at this time, there would be little repercussion from the bishop. Putting their hopes on this hunch, Liulf’s enemies made their move, and the Anglo-Saxon thane was murdered in his home.

It is difficult to gauge the bishop’s reaction to the death. On the one hand, he reportedly did an investigation, accusing the aforementioned administrative and military official, Gilbert, of being involved in the murder. This official, along with other people implicated in the death, faced banishment from the region of Northumbria. Yet, on the other hand, Bishop Walchere reportedly allowed Gilbert and other such banished people to secretly stay at his Durham church property.

Unfortunately for the Normans in Durham, Liulf had been a well-connected man. His family, friends and other angry Anglo-Saxons marched on Durham to demand revenge. This force became all the more irate when they learned that Bishop Walchere was sheltering the very people that he had earlier banished for being involved in the murder. The bishop, for his part, apparently attempted to negotiate some sort of peace settlement between the accused murderers and the Anglo-Saxons rioters who had poured in from various sections of Northumbria. Bringing these two parties together, however, had a disastrous effect. The fates of Bishop Walchere and his Norman comrades were reported in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, which stated, “In this year [1080] bishop Walchere was slain in Durham, at a meeting, and a hundred men with him, French and Flemish; but he himself was born in Lorraine. This the Northumbrians did in the month of May” (AD 1080). In response to the massacre, King William reportedly sent a Norman army to ravage the region of Northumbria.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (A scene from the reign of Henry IV, illustrated 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.
• The Chronicle of Florence of Worcester translated by Thomas Forester. London: Petter and Galpin, originally published 1854.  

Rome’s Underhanded Acquisition Of Disputed Land In 446 BCE

446 BCE was a busy year for the Romans. According to the historian Livy, it was a year that played host to both military glory and diplomatic shame. The former lauded feat came from Rome’s victory over a Volscian and Aequian invasion. As for the latter scandal, it resulted from the Roman people’s part in a land dispute between allies. At the heart of the conflict were the feuding cities of Aricia and Ardea, both of which were members of the Roman alliance network and were located just to the southeast of Rome. Aricia and Ardea had an ongoing heated feud about a piece of land, and tiring of their endless arguments, both cities reportedly decided to send representatives to Rome in order to have the Romans decide which of the cities had a better claim to the disputed land. When the representatives arrived, they were given an audience by the Roman government, the members of which listened to the arguments of both Aricia and Ardea. After the presentations were concluded, the Roman governing officials reportedly called an assembly of the political tribes of Rome to let the people decide the fate of the disputed land. It was in this latter phase when the land arbitration took a turn into controversy.

According to Livy, the disputed land that was in question happened to have once belonged to a city called Corioli, which the Romans were said to have occupied and burned in 493 BCE. As Aricia and Ardea were fighting over that land decades later, Rome obviously did not put much effort into settling or defending that region, allowing for other nearby cities to expand into the territory once held by Corioli. Nevertheless, an elderly Roman citizen reportedly brought up Rome’s past campaign in the region and insisted that the Romans had just as much right to the land as did Aricia and Ardea. Such talk reportedly won over the expansionist Roman masses, and when the representatives from the petitioning cities were called back to hear the verdict, the diplomats from Aricia and Ardea were told that it was Rome that would be taking the disputed land, to which the allied diplomats could do little but grumble. Livy, for his part, decried the move as shameful, “for an arbitrator to convert disputed land to his own use was a crime revolting in itself, and would set a precedent even worse” (History of Rome, 3.72).

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Wall painting from Pompeii (before 79 AD) - Naples, Archaeological Museum, [Public Domain] via flickr.com and Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The History of Rome by Livy, translated by Aubrey de Sélincourt. New York: Penguin Classics, 2002.

Widowed Queen Fredegund’s Assassination Attempt Against Widowed Queen Brunhild

In 566 or 567, two Visigoth sisters married two Frankish brothers. The brides were Galswintha and Brunhild, daughters of King Athanagild of the Visigoths (r. 551/554-567), while the grooms were Chilperic and Sigebert, both sons of the Merovingian Dynasty’s King Chlotar I of the Franks (r. 511-561). At the time of the marriages, Chilperic and Sigebert (with two other brothers, Charibert and Guntram) had succeeded their father as kings of different sections of the Frankish Empire. This was the fractured environment—with several independent Merovingian kings vying for primacy in the Frankish sphere of influence—that the Visigoth princesses were marrying into. With the unions of Galswintha to Chilperic, and Brunhild to Sigebert, life could have been like a fairytale or a folk story if the times and people were kinder. Yet, in the end, events unfolded more like a saga of horrors and bloodshed, with feuds that lasted for generations.

Brunhild and Sigebert, it appears, had a happy marriage and got along quite well. Galswintha, however, found Chilperic to be a poor husband. Despite the presence of his new wife, Chilperic continuously returned to concubines and mistresses that he had favored in the past, particularly a woman named Fredegund, whom he valued above all else. Chilperic, after only a year of marriage, came to the conclusion that he had made a mistake in marrying Galswintha. Driven on by these thoughts, Chilperic ultimately decided to end the marriage. He, however, did not complete this goal by separation or by sending his wife off to a convent. Instead, he horrifically had Galswintha strangled to death in 567 or 568, and quickly married Fredegund, who reportedly had encouraged the murder.

Brunhild, understandably, was infuriated and enraged when she heard the news that Chilperic had murdered her sister. Brunhild was supported by her husband, Sigebert, who admirably championed her cause and eventually mobilized his forces for a war against his own brother Chilperic. By 575, Sigebert was visibly winning his war against Chilperic, but just as the conflict was seemingly nearing its end, Sigebert was assassinated, leaving behind Brunhild and a five-year-old son named Childebert II. Chilperic and Fredegund were the prime suspects for the murder.

Childebert II, though a vulnerable child-king, was looked after by his uncle, King Guntram (r. 561-593), and by the late Sigebert’s loyal vassals. Brunhild, although she was sometimes separated from her son, also continued to act and intrigue for his interests. The realms of Childebert and Guntram were aligned against Chilperic until around 581, when Chilperic had some success convincing the teenage Childebert to turn against Guntram. Uncle Guntram, however, was able to bring young Childebert back to his side by 584 by giving the boy control of Marseilles. Later that very year, history would repeat and another assassination would occur. This time, it was King Chilperic who fell to an assassin’s blade, leaving behind Fredegund and an infant son named Chlotar II.

With the death of Chilperic, King Guntram was now the undisputed patriarch of the Merovingian Dynasty, ruling alongside two nephews, one an ambitious teenager and the other a baby. Immediately upon his brother’s death, Guntram seemingly acted with two goals at heart—self empowerment (he seized for himself lands such as Paris, Tours and Poitiers), while also striving to save the Merovingian Dynasty from further royal assassinations within his lifetime. In furtherance of the latter goal, he placed baby Chlotar II under his protection and sheltered the widowed Fredegund from Childebert II, as the teenage king wished to avenge the death of his father (Sigebert) and his aunt (Galswintha), in whose deaths Fredegund had been implicated.

After Childebert’s demands for Fredegund to be handed over had ceased, Guntram sent her off to live at a manor in the vicinity of Rouen. As had happened with young Childebert II, the vassals of the late Chilperic pledged their loyalty to baby Chlotar, and like her rival Queen Brunhild, Fredegund took upon herself the task of wielding espionage and intrigue on her young son’s behalf.

Not long after reaching her manor near Rouen, presumably still in 584, Fredegund launched an assassination attempt against Brunhild. As the story goes, she sent an agent to infiltrate Brunhild’s household. The assassin took on the guise of a cleric and acted with such piety and humility that he quickly worked his way closer and closer into Brunhild’s inner circle. Yet, something was off about him—maybe observers could sense insincerity, or perhaps his cover story just didn’t fit. Whatever the case, Brunhild’s household became suspicious of the cleric and eventually interrogated him. During the questioning, in-between bouts of flogging, the would-be assassin reportedly confessed to everything. Brunhild, for her part, spared the agent and merely sent him back to his master. The move, however, may not have been too merciful, for Fredegund had a reputation for wanton use of torture and execution. According to Bishop (and historian) Gregory of Tours, “When he [the assassin] told Fredegund what had happened and confessed that he had failed in his mission, she punished him by having his hands and feet cut off” (History of the Franks, VII.20).

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Fredegund watching the marriage of Chilperic and Galswintha, c. 19th century, painted by Lawrence Alma Tadema, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The History of the Franks by Gregory of Tours, translated by Lewis Thorpe. New York: Penguin Classics, 1971.
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Fredegund 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Brunhild-queen-of-Austrasia 
• https://www.oxfordreference.com/view/10.1093/acref/9780198662778.001.0001/acref-9780198662778-e-520 

Saint-King Olaf II And His Victory Over The 5-King Conspiracy

In 1015, Olaf Haraldsson launched his bid for the throne of Norway, killing, exiling, or otherwise forcing into submission the regional jarls who were beholden to other kings of Scandinavia. By 1016, he had brought Norway under his control, becoming King Olaf II, but there were still pockets of resistance among the jarls, petty kings, and chieftains who were uneasy with their new king. Around 1017, King Olaf (also known as Saint Olaf) dramatically clashed with several of these wavering noblemen who did not agree with his efforts to spread Christianity in their domains. The ensuing showdown was recorded in verse by an 11th-century Icelandic skald named Ottar the Black, whose poem was cited by Snorri Sturluson (c. 1179-1241) in his Heimskringla (History of the Kings of Norway), specifically Saint Olaf’s Saga, which is included in that text.

Around 1017, King Olaf II began pressuring the Uppland districts to convert to Christianity. The topic of religion can get heated even in simple conversation, so the tension of the region understandably became quite hostile when King Olaf’s methods of spreading Christianity proved less than cordial. As Snorri Sturluson bluntly described, “if he found anyone who did not want to abandon heathendom, he drove him out of the land. Some he had maimed, having their hands or feet lopped off or their eyes gouged out, others he had hanged or beheaded, but left no one unchastised who refused to serve God” (Saint Olaf’s Saga, chapter 73). Such heavy-handedness, especially on a topic as sensitive as religion, did nothing to console the noblemen in the region who were still unsure of Olaf’s rule. Shocked by the stories of execution, mutilation and banishment, five petty kings of Uppland decided to work together in a conspiracy against King Olaf II.

Only three of the five conspirators are known to history by name, but all of them were said to have lived around the Lake Mjøsa area. Hrœrek and Gudröd were the most influential of the petty kings, while a certain King Hring and two other petty kings usually deferred to Hrœrek and Gudröd for guidance. As Olaf II ramped up his conversion campaign in the region, the five petty kings decided to meet in order to discuss what course they wanted to take. Although there was some debate, they all chose to launch a violent resistance against King Olaf. Yet, instead of an open rebellion, they decided to orchestrate a more subtle conspiracy, hoping to ambush Olaf II while the king was unaware of their disloyalty. Upon their agreement to conspire against their liege, the five petty kings vowed to remain together in a single camp, lest one of them be tempted to betray the others.

Fully committed, the conspirators started to gather warriors whom they presumed to be loyal to their cause. Each of the five petty kings allegedly pledged to recruit around 300 trustworthy fighters, and therefore, they hoped to obtain a force of at least 1,500 men. Meanwhile, as they slowly mustered their forces, the conspirators sent spies to keep an eye on King Olaf, who, at that time, was reportedly only guarded by a band of between 400 and 500 warriors.

Hrœrek, Gudröd, Hring and their fellow petty kings, however, were not the only ones with eyes and ears on the ground. King Olaf II, too, had a formidable spy network, and, to his fortune, one of his informants was invited to the conspiracy. This man, reportedly named Ketil, quickly relayed news of the conspiracy back to King Olaf, who, upon receiving the tip-off, quickly acted to crush the plot.

As the story goes, King Olaf and his guards stormed off to the nearest shore of Lake Mjøsa. There, they commandeered as many ships as they needed, and then set sail upon nightfall out into the lake. With help from his informant, Olaf knew the exact location where all five of the conspiring kings were camped together—a place called Hringiskar, near Gudbrands Dale. King Olaf reached his target well before dawn, and, after assembling his troops around the compound, he attacked at first light. Catching the conspirators unprepared and off guard, King Olaf’s troops made short work of the would-be rebels. In the fight, all five of the petty kings were captured, and Olaf severely punished the main two ringleaders of the group. King Hrœrek was blinded and forbidden to stray from Olaf’s company. Gudröd, similarly, was mutilated, but his tongue was taken instead of his eyes. Hring and the other two remaining petty kings were reportedly banished from Norway. Despite King Olaf’s victory, the blinded Hœrek would continue to conspire against the king, and Uppland would remain staunchly pagan for several more years.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Illustration by Christian Krohg (1852–1925) for the Heimskringla, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• Heimskringla, by Snorri Sturluson and translated by Lee Hollander. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1964, 2018.
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Olaf-II-Haraldsson  

The Northumbrian Coup Against Earl Tostig

Tostig Godwinson became the Earl of Northumbria in 1055. His brother was Earl Harold Godwinson of Wessex and his brother-in-law was King Edward the Confessor of England (r. 1042-1066). Encouraged by his own power and that of his relations, Earl Tostig began to act tyrannically in Northumbria, angering his local liegemen in various ways. The least nefarious of these abuses was a poorly explained increase on Northumbrian taxes. More scandalous, however, were the assassinations of several noblemen that occurred at that time in Northumbria, which the locals attributed to the machinations of Tostig and the fellow members of his House of Godwin.

By 1065, the Northumbrians were fed up with Tostig’s rule. According to the chronicler, Florence of Worcester (d. 1117), the assassinations of three prominent Northumbrians (named of Cospatric, Gamel and Ulf) were what finally caused the region to rebel against its tyrannical leader. Around October 3, 1065, a coup was reportedly launched by a group of local Northumbrian noblemen. At a time when Earl Tostig was away from Northumbria, the members of the coup marched with a small army to the earl’s seat of power at York. The rebellious force skillfully infiltrated the city, systematically executed around two hundred of Tostig’s loyal administrators, and seized control of the treasury and armory in York. With the city of York firmly in the conspirators’ hands, the maneuverings in Northumbria against Tostig transitioned out of the shadows and became a more public affair. Noblemen and peasants rallied behind the coup, and an anti-Tostig army was mobilized which reached a formidable size.

Earl Harold Godwinson led the English response to the Northumbrian revolt, leading on behalf of the increasingly ill King Edward the Confessor. By the time he and his army arrived on the scene of the rebellion, Harold Godwinson found the Northumbrians organized and well-led by a prospective earl named Morcar. As Morcar’s leadership among the rebels was stable and his Northumbrian army had formidable strength, Harold Godwinson was not enthusiastic about attacking the rebel force, even if it was his brother Tostig’s earldom that was at stake. Instead of going to war and crushing the rebellion, Harold Godwinson instead opened up negotiations with Morcar and the rebel leadership. During these negotiations between the English army and the Northumbrian rebels, Harold Godwinson did not put up much of a fight for his tyrannical brother, Tostig. Instead, England accepted Morcar as the new Earl of Northumbria, and Tostig Godwinson was outlawed.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Image from page 44 of "The book of the Bayeux tapestry” edited by Hilaire Belloc (c. 1914), [Public Domain] via flickr and Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle translated by Benjamin Thorpe in 1861 and republished by Cambridge University Press, 2012.
• The Chronicle of Florence of Worcester translated by Thomas Forester. London: Petter and Galpin, originally published in 1854. 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Tostig-Earl-of-Northumbria 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Edward-king-of-England-1002-1066 
• https://www.encyclopedia.com/history/encyclopedias-almanacs-transcripts-and-maps/morcar-earl-northumbria  

The Verbal Reaction Of The Swedish King To Saint Olaf’s Rise In Norway

Saint Olaf (King Olaf II Haraldsson “the Stout”) ended foreign domination of Norway around 1015 by defeating, or forcing into exile, jarls who had sworn fealty (or at least deference) to Sweden and Denmark. Saint Olaf’s ascendance infuriated the king of Sweden, whose influence had been widely felt in Norway before the upstart saint-king asserted Norwegian independence. Such friction caused a multi-year feud between the two monarchs, who, despite their political rivalry, were quite similar—both were Christian rulers in predominantly Norse kingdoms, and they were both named Olaf (Olaf II of Norway and Olaf I of Sweden). Yet, when Saint Olaf of Norway curtailed Swedish influence and tax collection in Norwegian lands, it became understandably difficult for the like-minded monarchs to get along. The taxation issue was especially irksome to the Swedish ruler, as he was known as Olaf I “the Tax King.”

By 1017, Saint Olaf had consolidated his power in Norway, and was able to set his eye on foreign policy. Further infuriating the Swedish king, Saint Olaf reportedly began reaching out to vassals under Sweden’s influence to arrange trade deals and non-aggression pacts. During this time, the Swedish king was said to have been so angry about Saint Olaf’s successes that he banned the Norwegian king’s name from being uttered in his court. According to the Icelandic historian Snorri Sturluson (c. 1179-1241), whose sources were often the verses of court poets, the Swedish king ordered that his courtiers refer to the pesky Norwegian monarch as “that fat man” (Heimskringla, Saint Olaf’s Saga, chapter 67).

The two Olafs, however, finally made peace around 1019, and Saint Olaf eventually married the Swedish king’s daughter, Astrid, making the two formerly hostile monarchs in-laws. In contrast to his early reign, Saint Olaf would increasingly rely on his Swedish relations in his later life. When Canute the Great of England and Denmark took over Norway in 1028, Saint Olaf was said to have fled to his wife’s family for shelter, and when Olaf launched his unsuccessful attempt to regain the Norwegian throne in 1030, he was aided by his Swedish brother-in-law, Anund Jakob.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Seated table scene created by Christian Krohg (1852–1925) for the Heimskringla, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• Heimskringla, by Snorri Sturluson and translated by Lee Hollander. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1964, 2018.
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Olaf-II-Haraldsson 
• https://www.britannica.com/biography/Olaf  

The Succession War Over The Bishopric Of Uzès

In the year 581, Bishop Ferreolus of Uzès died, creating a power vacuum that would lead to a succession crisis. Various candidates were put forth to lead the bishopric, with the locals of Uzès, the clergy, and the monarchy all favoring different people for the job. The locals, or more particularly the local government, made the first move. They put an ex-governor of Provence, by the name of Albinus, in command of the bishopric, presumably with the consent of the local clergy. The monarchy, however, was not at all happy at being cut out of the conversation and, therefore, sent another candidate, named Jovinus, to usurp power in the bishopric from Albinus. In case the people and government resisted this new candidate, the monarchy put Jovinus in command of an army.

As it happened, Albinus died that very year in 581, only three months after he had been proposed for office by the local government of Uzès. Despite the loss of this candidate, the regional powers in Uzès still did not want their bishopric to be ruled by Jovinus. Therefore, the clergy and the local government rushed through another candidate, a certain deacon named Marcellus, and consecrated him as their bishop before Jovinus arrived in the vicinity with his army.

According to the writings of Bishop Gregory of Tours (c. 539-594), Uzès became quite a tense place when Jovenus arrived and found another bishop firmly entrenched in the city.  A confrontation ensued, and when Marcellus refused to give way, Jovinus brought his borrowed army into play and besieged the city. Uzès seemed to completely side with Marcellus, however, and its garrisons and local forces were willing to fight to keep their chosen bishop in power. Now that Marcellus had his own army manning the defenses of Uzès, the siege ground to a standstill. According to Gregory of Tours, Jovinus eventually became disillusioned with his mission and, after taking a bribe, admitted defeat to Marcellus and relinquished any claim to the bishopric of Uzès.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Bishop Absalon at Arkona, painted by Laurits Tuxen (1853–1927), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

• The History of the Franks by Gregory of Tours, translated by Lewis Thorpe. New York: Penguin Classics, 1971.
• https://www.encyclopedia.com/religion/encyclopedias-almanacs-transcripts-and-maps/ferreolus-uzes-st