Starting in the 700s AD, Viking raiders attacked settlements in the northern French coast. These raids led to two sieges of Paris, the establishment of a new Duchy in northern France, and indirectly, the Norman invasion of England.

The Coming of the Northmen: France Faces the Viking Onslaught (8th–9th centuries)

After several years raiding the coasts of the British Isles, Vikings began to target settlements in northern France. ​The first Scandinavian ships appeared off France in 799. They arrived at a perilous time for the locals. The local Frankish nobility struggled to maintain control over their territories and lacked the resources to defend themselves against these raiders. As a result, the Viking raids quickly increased in intensity.

The Vikings initially aimed to plunder the coastal areas, targeting abbeys, churches, and small towns for their wealth. The Vikings were experienced in raiding coastal settlements and the Carolingian rulers in France struggled to respond. The lackluster defense only encouraged more raids as the Vikings were eager to seize more riches.

In the 830s-840s, Viking raiders began establishing fortified camps in the Seine estuary to allow them to raid further inland. In 841, a Viking fleet sailed up the River Seine and plundered Rouen and the Abbey of Jumièges. These raids showed two things: the Carolingians were too weak and the Vikings were planning on staying there. This would have profound implications for the political future of northern France.

The Siege of Paris and the Crisis of the Carolingians (845–885)

In 845, one of the most important moments in Frankish history took place when thousands of Vikings sailed down to the Seine to attack Paris. The Frankish king, Charles the Bald, was poorly prepared for this attack. After the Frankish vanguard was defeated, the Viking chieftain Ragnar Lothbrok laid siege to the city. Charles decided to pay off the Vikings by giving them 7,000 livres of silver and gold.

The Vikings found that by laying siege to poorly defended cities like Paris, they could exact major tributes. Repeated attacks throughout the rest of the 9th century AD devastated towns such as Rouen, Tours, and Angers, while monastic centers like Saint-Denis and Fontenelle were burned multiple times.

In 885, a much larger Viking force numbering in the tens of thousands laid siege to Paris again. This time, Odo, the Frankish Count of Paris, managed to defeat the Vikings thanks to careful preparation and a formidable defense. He also had to pay a ransom to force the Vikings to leave, but the Frankish defense deterred additional Viking attacks on the city. A stalemate now emerged: northern France was at the mercy of the Vikings, but areas further inland were harder to reach due to stronger Frankish defenses.

Rollo and the Settlement at the Lower Seine (911)

While this stalemate persisted, a prominent new Viking ruler appeared on the scene. Rollo, a Scandinavian chieftain born in either Denmark or Norway, took control of much of the Viking-held territory in the Seine estuary and on the coast. His position was strengthened by the fact that the Carolingians were very weak, enabling him to maintain control of the territories seized by prior Viking warlords.

While the Vikings were unable to seize Paris itself, they could take control of the city’s hinterland, leaving it isolated from the rest of France. King Charles the Simple decided that he would try to negotiate with the Norsemen instead of trying to oust them entirely. In 911, both leaders met and signed the Treaty of Saint-Clair-sur-Epte. This accord enabled Rollo to take control of the vital territory near Rouen. In exchange, he agreed to make peace with the Franks and pledge allegiance to King Charles. He even converted to Christianity and married Charles’s daughter.

Rollo’s realm came to be known as Normandy, or “land of the Northmen.” From now on, the Vikings in northern France were no longer a threat to the Frankish kingdom. Instead, they were co-opted to protect their Frankish liege lords from other external threats. The treaty and subsequent events consolidated the Duchy of Normandy and stopped the rampant Viking pillaging that plagued northern France at the time.

From Raiders to Rulers: The Early Norman Dukes (10th century)

Upon the signing of the treaty between Rollo and King Charles, northern France underwent drastic changes. Many of the Vikings who lived there decided to settle down, adopt a Christian lifestyle, and intermarry with the locals in the towns in the region. The establishment of a prosperous Norman state on the French coast encouraged further migration from Scandinavia.

Rollo proved an able ruler. He fortified Rouen, established law and order, and encouraged trade along the Seine, turning his once-hostile base into a thriving center of commerce. His son and successor, William Longsword, expanded Norman control westward toward the Cotentin and eastward into the Vexin, using both the carrot and the stick. The Normans’ growing power alarmed neighboring counts, but their martial discipline and strategic marriages secured their position.

In 942, Richard I became the Duke of Normandy and he decided to increase the power of the Church in the region. He welcomed reforming monks and established more monasteries to support the Church’s growth. The close ties established between the Duchy and the Church ensured that the Normans could integrate more easily into the Frankish kingdom than if they had retained their Norse pagan beliefs.

Normandy’s Rise: Power, Prosperity, and Integration (11th century)

Normandy continued to expand as a result of the strategic decisions of its dukes and the growth in its population. The descendants of Rollo had perfected the art of balancing independence with loyalty to the French crown. Under Duke Richard II and his successors, the duchy consolidated its institutions, strengthened ducal authority, and cultivated a distinctive Norman identity.

In the late 10th century, the Norman dukes helped to put Hugh Capet on the French throne, an act that demonstrated their influence beyond Normandy. Additionally, their military power was growing. By the mid-century, over 300 permanent knights protected the castles in the duchy, not including thousands more warriors that could be called up in a crisis. The dukes imposed vassalage on the lay nobility as well. Until Richard II in the late-10th century, Norman leaders were willing to call over more Scandinavians to strengthen their numbers.

The mid-11th century witnessed the rise of Duke William, the illegitimate son of Duke Robert I of Normandy. William had become duke at eight years old in 1035 and spent the next few decades facing a host of challenges to his power. After restoring stability to his realm, William turned his attention to England. William’s great-aunt Emma of Normandy had been the mother of the childless Edward the Confessor, whose death in 1066 encouraged William to lay claim to the English throne.

Legacy of Conquest: Normandy and the Wider World

Following Edward’s death in January 1066, his brother-in-law Harold Godwinson moved quickly to seize the crown. William claimed that Edward had previously promised him the throne and invaded England in the fall of 1066 to stake his claim. During that fateful year, Harold not only faced the threat of William’s Normans to the south but also had to defend his kingdom from invasion by King Harald Hardrada of Norway in the north.

Although Harold prevailed against the Norwegians at the Battle of Stamford Bridge, the Normans emerged victorious and Harold was slain at the Battle of Hastings on October 14, 1066. After his coronation in December, William became king of England as well as the duke of Normandy. England and Normandy remained separate realms after William’s death, with his eldest son Robert taking over in Normandy and his second son William II becoming king of England. The territories were reunited in the person of Henry I, William’s third son.

The Normans carried to England their distinctive blend of Viking audacity and Frankish organization. They centralized political administration, and created a new aristocracy bound by loyalty to the new king. Their castles dominated the surrounding countryside as a statement of the new regime. Norman rule reshaped English society and governance, leaving long-lasting legacies in law, architecture, and language.

Across the channel, the duchy itself remained a cornerstone of English power in France until King John was forced to cede the duchy to France in the early 13th century. Born from Viking raids and forged in Frankish politics, Normandy had become a model of adaptability, resilience, and growth. Its influence extended long after the end of the Duchy and to this day, the legacy of the Viking settlers remains imprinted on the territory.

In George R.R. Martin’s “A Game of Thrones,” Ser Jaime Lannister says of knighthood that “No matter what you do, you’re forsaking one vow or the other.” Jaime’s vows put him in impossible positions, ordering him to both obey his tyrannical king and protect the weak, who his king threatens to destroy. In Westeros, the chivalric code seems impossible, but was this true of the real Medieval chivalric code? This article explores how chivalric ideals of honor, fortune, and courtly love conflicted with the violent world of the medieval knight.

Great Deeds of Arms & Warfare

In the mid-14th century, a French knight named Geoffroi de Charny wrote “A Knight’s Own Book of Chivalry,” setting out the virtues and rules of good knightly etiquette. Charny addressed his work not just to an audience of knights, but to men-at-arms more generally, from the lowly foot soldier to the hardened mercenary. This indicates that chivalry may not have been reserved simply for knights, but expected of all military men.

However, while this inclusivity may seem appealing at first, applying a single code to people from very different social and military backgrounds is the first clue that this chivalric code might not be particularly practical. To keep things simple, we will focus on the code as it applies to knights.

Above all else, Charny’s code places the greatest importance on “feats of arms,” which are demonstrations of skill using weaponry. Feats of arms are usually performed during tournaments and in warfare. He encourages a knight to “exert yourself, take up arms, fight as you should, go everywhere across both land and sea” (pg. 195). Charny presents waging war, fighting battles, and taking part in tournaments as the best way for a knight to prove his chivalric honor. Instead of labeling the knight’s violence as brutish, it is reframed as glorified, honorable, and righteous.

However, reality does not match this idealized picture. For example, warfare is rarely noble or honorable. What might seem justified from one side may be seen as barbaric from another. The brutal and bloody nature of war and the psychological impact upon those who survive it have been recorded throughout history.

The mounted knight was at one time the most effective weapon on the medieval battlefield; the degree of damage they could inflict cannot be understated. It is therefore probable that many knights witnessed and participated in great bloodshed. There is little mention in the code of the deep mental and physical injuries that can result from warfare, or how to recover from the devastation that can result from the pursuit of glory.

Another complication a knight may face is a lack of power or authority, particularly in battle. Knights were among the lowest of the upper class and functioned more as a tool for those in power to use against their enemies. Their orders were given by the higher-ranking noble they served, much the same as for mercenaries or foot soldiers. Therefore, a knight seeking chivalric honor on the battlefield may find himself in the service of one whose intentions are neither noble nor just. Caught between the expectation to obey authority and a desire to follow the chivalric code, a knight could be forced to perform deeds that were anything but chivalrous and end up losing honor in their quest to gain it.

The Financial Reality of Knightly Greed

When it comes to guidance on wealth, the chivalric code is not only impractical but also contradictory. Charny writes that “one should praise and value those men-at-arms who are able to make war on, inflict damage on, and win profit from their enemies” (pg. 99). This makes it seem like gaining wealth from defeating foes is chivalrous behavior and should be encouraged.

On the other hand, he also advises to “refrain from enriching yourselves at others’ expense” (pg. 131). This is despite the fact that taking profit from those who have been defeated is the same as enriching yourself at the expense of others. This demonstrates just how difficult it must have been to follow the chivalric code. Adhering to one rule often meant breaking another.

Charny also advises that “you should not care about amassing great wealth” (pg. 117), as the more wealth a knight has, the more likely he is to fear death, and fear of death is dishonorable among knights. Yet he also advises that if a knight wants to establish their good reputation, they must maintain themselves at a certain level in terms of their appearance. This refers not only to their conduct, but also their clothing, arms, and armor.

Once again, the chivalric code contradicts itself by discouraging the pursuit of great wealth while encouraging displays of wealth. After all, a full set of armor correctly fitted and with the embellishments to make one stand out on the tourney field was incredibly expensive. There are also the other associated expenses, such as weaponry, horses, and servants or squires.

Both arms and armor were easily damaged, and repairs or replacements could be costly. Additionally, a knight would need more than one horse in case of sickness or injury and would have to provide for their upkeep. Similarly, any servants or squires would require food, shelter, and clothing appropriate to the status of the knight they served. Add in the cost of traveling in pursuit of glory, and a knight is left with little choice but to pursue great wealth if they wish to afford all of the things they need to follow their impractical code of chivalry.

Real Warfare Versus Courtly Romance

Tales of courtly love, such as the doomed affair between Guinevere and Lancelot, were incredibly popular during the Middle Ages. It is, therefore, no surprise that the chivalric code encouraged knights to recreate the romance of literature in real life.

Just as Lancelot and Guinevere attempted to keep their love for each other secret, Charny writes that “we should know for certain that the most secret love is the most lasting and truest” (pg. 170). It is unclear whether Charny means a knight must keep a relationship secret or simply not tell a person that they love them. This could cause confusion, leading a knight to believe he is behaving honorably by having an affair with a married woman because he is keeping it a secret. Nonetheless, keeping a love affair under wraps was preferred, as it protected the pure reputation of the lady. However, the discovery of a secret romance, no matter how lasting or true the love, might inflict as much shame upon the knight as it would the lady.

The Dedication, by Edmund Blair Leighton, 1908. Source: Wikimedia Commons

Charny also writes that the best knights marry for love over political alliance or the pursuit of wealth. The reasoning for this is that “it provides heirs and saves the man and woman from sin” (pg. 173). It should be noted that producing heirs and avoiding living in sin were often part of the motivation in medieval marriages, particularly among the noble classes, regardless of whether love was involved. In this, the chivalric code is aligned with reality. On the other hand, knights who “pay no regard to the person when entering into the marriage, but do so out of greed for riches” (pg. 173) were to be looked down upon.

However, in light of the high costs of maintaining a knight’s lifestyle, marriage for money may have been unchivalrous, but it was certainly practical. Charny often mentions how a knight must constantly strive to achieve great deeds, yet ways to fund themselves were limited, especially for noble second or third sons who often became knights after being pushed down in the line of succession. If they adhered to the rule of not enriching themselves at the expense of others, then a marriage dowry was the only other option to secure a suitable income. A knight who refused to do either would struggle to pay for all that was required to reach the greatness he aspired to.

Chivalry: An Impossible Idea?

So, do Jaime’s complaints about knighthood reflect the real-world chivalric code?

It must be acknowledged that there is still much we do not know about the details of the chivalric code or how widely it was actually practiced. There may have been many unwritten and unspoken rules within knighthood that helped make sense of chivalry’s contradictions. Charny’s work gives only one interpretation of chivalry, while the ideals presented would have been familiar across European noble classes.

Given chivalry’s tendency to contradict itself, it is doubtful that any knight would be successful in following every one of its rules. Just as Jaime said, in following one vow, you were just as likely to forsake another. Furthermore, chivalry rarely seems to reflect the complex reality of a knight’s world. Violence brings with it the risk of death, injury, and psychological trauma. The promise of glory and honor are not always strong enough to overcome such natural human responses. Also, the practical requirements of knighthood, such as money and the need to form alliances through marriage, could often outweigh more impractical ideals.

Chivalry undoubtedly gave knights a code of conduct to aspire to, and that is no bad thing. However, its inconsistencies and impracticality meant it was far easier for a hero from Arthurian romance to follow than for the real knight living in the complex and turbulent medieval world.

Find the full text of Geoffroi de Charny’s Book of Chivalry here.

It was customary among the Franks to divide territory among the legitimate sons of the king. Charlemagne had three sons, all but one of whom predeceased their father. That left his youngest son, Louis the Pious, to inherit the vast empire that Charlemagne had conquered.

When it came time for Louis to see to his own succession plans among his own sons, he knew that he needed to plan well to avoid conflict among them for territory and influence. Unfortunately for Louis, he replaced conflict among his sons with conflict between his sons and himself.

The Ordinatio Imperii

In 817, Louis had the Ordinatio Imperii drafted, which laid out his plan for the succession.

His eldest son, Lothar, would inherit the imperial crown, while his son Louis (usually given the soubriquet “the German” to differentiate him from his father) would inherit the lands of Bavaria and Saxony, and the third son, Pepin, would inherit the lands of Aquitaine. There were provisions that the brothers must see each other at least once a year and give gifts to each other. Charles and Louis were not to make foreign policy decisions without first consulting Lothar. It was a very orderly, logical system.

However, there was one fatal flaw. His brother Pepin, who had been ruling Italy for his father, left his territory to his son Bernard. Bernard was not accounted for in Louis’s succession document. Italy was assigned to Lothar, and as such, Bernard feared total disinheritance.

Bernard of Italy

Rumors swirled that Bernard planned to take military action to secure his inheritance. Powerful Italian magnates supposedly convinced him to separate Italy from the larger Carolingian realm and rule it as an independent king. When Louis received word of this, he was furious and raised an army to march against Bernard, believing that he was about to raise the flag of rebellion.

However, there is little evidence that Bernard was going to do any such thing. In any case, when he heard that an army was marching against him, he knew it would be futile to fight, so Bernard traveled north across the Alps to meet Louis and try to work out a solution.

Rather than a negotiation, Bernard found a cell. He was arrested and, in a show trial, was convicted of treason and sentenced to death. Louis, attempting to show mercy, commuted the sentence to blinding, which had a long history in the Byzantine Empire as a punishment for rebellious princes, but was uncommon in Western Europe.

Bernard was restrained while a stiletto dagger was heated in an open flame until red hot, and was then shoved into his eyes. While a horrific punishment, it is not necessarily fatal. However, Bernard’s blinding was botched. After two days of agony, he died from his wounds on April 17, 818. He was 21.

Louis became paranoid that there were more plots in the works among his extended family. To head off other potential familial rebellions, Louis ordered his surviving half-brothers Drogo, Hugh, and Theoderic to be forcibly tonsured and shut away in monasteries.

The Penitent Emperor

The events of 818 shook Louis. His beloved wife Ermengarde died a few short months after Bernard, which also hit him hard. While it is impossible to know his inner thoughts, based on his later actions, he may have seen his wife’s death as divine punishment for his sins.

For many years after Bernard’s death, he had tried to alleviate his guilty conscience, but the feelings only worsened over time.

In 822, a council was assembled at Attingy consisting of bishops and lords from across the empire. Louis appeared before the council wearing the hair shirt of a penitent sinner. He prostrated himself before the altar and announced to all present that he had ruled unworthily, had dishonored the church, and had committed serious sin.

Among the serious sins he confessed was the killing of Bernard. He said that he had the power to free his nephew and was counseled to do so, but refused, and his actions resulted in Bernard’s death. He also confessed to the mistreatment of his kin by forcing his half-brothers into monasteries, ultimately punishing loyal men.

The spectacle of the emperor prostrating and humbling himself in the way that Louis did at Attingy raised his standing in the eyes of the Church, but vastly lowered it in the eyes of his nobles. They likely saw no issue with Louis’s actions, and throwing himself on the mercy of the Church made Louis appear weak.

Succession Complications

In 823, Louis’s new wife, Judith of Bavaria, gave birth to their first son. They named him Charles after his grandfather.

Young Charles proved a further complication to the succession plans of the Ordinatio. While by right Charles would be entitled to land, being a legitimate son of Louis, all the land of the empire was already spoken for among the three sons of Ermengarde. There were two choices before Louis: he would either need to conquer more land, a feat easier said than done for the already overextended Carolingian Empire, or he would need to redraw the succession map for the existing land. Louis chose the latter.

He revised the Ordinatio Imperii to give Alemannia, the rich lands between Aquitaine and Bavaria, to Charles, depriving Lothar of a portion of his promised inheritance. This sent a shockwave through the Carolingian court. Lothar was, of course, furious over some of his lands being given to his new half-brother, but Pepin and Louis the German were both fearful of the implications.

If the succession could be rewritten, then their lands would shrink every time Louis and Judith had another son. Bernard had tried to negotiate with Louis and had ended up dead. Lothar, Pepin, and Louis the German would not make the same mistake.

The Rebellion of 830

Lothar and his brothers rose up in rebellion against their father. They moved quickly, capturing him at Compiegne. Judith was forced into a convent, and the succession was brought back to the 817 settlement, removing Charles from the document.

The revolt succeeded quickly, but it fell apart equally as quickly. The brothers had agreed on what they were against, namely Judith’s growing influence and the matter of Charles’s inheritance, but they did not have a detailed idea of what would happen after their rebellion.

Lothar was officially co-emperor with his father, but in reality, he was the sole power at the head of the empire as long as Louis the Pious was under his control. His conduct as emperor alienated his nobles and antagonized his brothers, leading to Pepin and Louis the German feeling like they had made a mistake.

By the end of 830, the short-lived revolt was over. Support for Lothar had bled away, and Louis the Pious was restored to his former position.

Perhaps remembering the disaster of Bernard’s death, Louis showed remarkable leniency to his sons and the rebel nobles who had backed them. A few court officials despised by the brothers were exiled as a way for them to save face, but the situation after the rebellion was remarkably like it was beforehand.

Judith’s vows were considered invalid since she was coerced. Judith and Charles were still in the picture. None of the underlying issues that caused the rebellion in the first place were addressed, just swept under the rug.

It would not be long before those issues would flare up again.

The Second Rebellion

Louis the Pious’s position was extraordinarily unstable following his brief capture and effective deposition in 830. He continued to clash with his nobles and his sons as the empire once again threatened to tear itself apart.

In 832, Louis stripped Pepin of Aquitaine entirely and assigned it to Charles instead. Pepin once again found himself in the position where he feared total disinheritance. With the line that had caused them to rebel once before crossed a second time, the brothers once again rose in rebellion against their father. This time, however, they had a plan.

Louis had no choice but to raise his own army in response. The forces shadowed each other, neither willing to be the one to initiate full-blown civil war. In 833, word reached Louis that his sons were willing to negotiate.

The Field of Lies

Louis and his sons camped their armies in Alsace. Pope Gregory IV was called in as the negotiator between the two camps. The presence of the pope, Louis hoped, would cause cooler heads to prevail.

However, over the next few days, Louis’s host became smaller and smaller. One by one, bishops and lay lords defected over to Lothar’s camp. Men who had sworn sacred oaths of fealty and service to Louis betrayed him in favor of his sons. It is likely that Lothar and his brothers promised them concessions, increasing their relative power in exchange for joining their side in the rebellion.

The mass breaking of oaths gave this event its colorful name in the sources as the Field of Lies.

As his force disintegrated from under his nose, Louis realized that he had no leverage. If he fought, he would be annihilated. He had no choice but to surrender.

This was only the beginning of Louis’s humiliation. Rather than negotiating in the middle of the field between the two camps as they had done for the previous few days, Lothar and his brothers demanded that Louis walk fully across the field to their camp.

Rather than being accompanied by a mighty army, Louis only had his wife and son to walk with him. It was a profound show of weakness and defeat. When Louis arrived in his sons’ camp, he was not treated as an equal negotiating partner, nor as an emperor, nor even as a father. He was instead treated as a prisoner. He was confined to a tent while his sons decided what to do with him.

Louis had lost, and his sons held all the cards.

To the Victor Go the Spoils

With Louis in their power, the empire was essentially divided into three along the lines of the Ordinatio Imperii. Pepin had Aquitaine returned to him, the younger Louis returned to Bavaria, and Lothar retained the rich middle lands. They once again forced Judith to a convent and exiled her son Charles to Italy.

Their petty and vindictive behavior did not stop there. In a twisted reflection of the aftermath of Bernard’s killing, Louis was once more forced to do penance at Soissons. He was paraded before a synod of bishops as a penitent and made to confess to a whole list of crimes, most of which were fabricated. At the end of the whole affair, Louis laid down his arms and regalia and accepted a state of permanent penance, which essentially meant that he was barred from ruling. He effectively abdicated with this pronouncement, and Lothar became acting emperor in his stead.

However, this whole spectacle left a bad taste in the mouths of the nobles and bishops. Without Louis to unite them, the brothers and their supporters began to quarrel among each other, and the decisions made at the Field of Lies were regretted by many.

So, with growing chaos and no one to stop it, the lords of the land eventually turned back to Louis. He was formally reconciled in 834, his penance was officially ended, and his regalia were returned to him. Judith left the convent, and Charles returned from Italy.

Lothar immediately fled, fearing what his father would do to him now that he was back in power. Louis the German refused to recognize his father’s return to power. Pepin, seeing which way the wind was blowing, was at Louis’s side when his penance was ended to show his support.

Aftermath

The remainder of Louis’s reign was uneasy and troubled. His sons continued to test him, push boundaries, and position themselves for more power.

After Louis’s death in 840, his sons had no one to fight but each other. Quarrels between them escalated until civil war broke out once again. Unlike all the previous times when the Carolingians raised arms against each other, neither side backed down. The bloody battle of Fontenoy and the peace of Verdun afterward marked the disintegration of the Carolingian Empire as a unified political entity. Instead, the regions of West, Middle, and East Francia devolved into separate kingdoms.

The great irony of his reign was that in Louis the Pious’s attempts to prevent fratricidal conflict among his sons by laying out an orderly succession plan, he caused the exact conflict he was trying to avoid. Like in a Greek tragedy, trying to prevent an event was exactly what led to the event happening.

The man tried to be a good Christian and a good father, but his attempt to do so led to the ruin and collapse of the empire that he spent so much effort trying to hold together.

Viking Iceland was sparsely settled and governed collectively by chiefs elected to represent their local communities. This meant there was limited infrastructure for justice and law enforcement. People generally had to take matters into their own hands. Norse ideas about honor meant that if a family was the victim of a crime, they had to retaliate to restore their honor. This often resulted in tit-for-tat revenge killings, known as blood feuds, which decimated entire families and weakened Iceland as a whole. These blood feuds are one of the major themes that recur throughout the Icelandic sagas.

Law and Leadership in Viking Iceland

According to the tradition of the Icelandic sagas, Norse settlers, mostly from Norway, began settling Iceland in the 870s. People were fleeing the tyranny of King Harald Fairhair of Norway and seeking arable land to farm.

The initial settlement was a “land grab,” with new arrivals identifying and claiming the best land on a first-come basis. The earliest settlers then distributed portions of their land to their crews, families, and followers. This resulted in a sparse settlement of independent farms, with groups connected through ties of family and loyalty.

Unlike in Denmark and Norway, where centralized kingship was taking form, Iceland’s settlement pattern lent itself to more decentralized organization in the form of a commonwealth of chiefs. Chiefs called Godi (or Godar in the plural) were elected by their communities to represent their followers at local Thing meetings and the national Althing, when it was established around 930.

These meetings of Godar had been part of the culture since Germanic times. They were important opportunities to conduct business and make marriage alliances. The Godar also agreed on shared rules and laws, and they could hear legal cases presented to them. The Althing was supported by a Lawspeaker, who was responsible for remembering and reciting laws and previous decisions. The Icelandic chronicler of Norse mythology, Snorri Sturluson, served as Lawspeaker for several years in the 13th century.

What Was Considered a Crime in the Viking World?

While raiding foreign peoples for gold and slaves was considered a respectable profession, theft and property damage within your own community were serious crimes. It is notable just how many spells in the Medieval Icelandic grimoires dealt with identifying and exposing thieves. Libel or insulting someone’s courage or manliness was also considered a crime for which a man’s honor demanded satisfaction.

Just as today, killing another person was not always considered a crime. The Vikings recognized self-defense as a valid reason for killing another person, as was defending one’s honor. What was important was that the actions were open. For example, a Viking might challenge another to a duel, making their intentions clear, and then complete the act publicly in front of witnesses. However, killing another man in secret and then trying to cover it up was considered a serious crime.

But determining whether a killing was justified or honorable depended very much on the opinion of the injured party. A crime against you or your kin was thought to damage your honor (drenskapr), which needed to be restored, usually through a public act of retribution. But while a public act of retribution might not be a crime, the family on the receiving end might still feel like this new act required a further act of retribution. This approach to justice often escalated into tit-for-tat revenge killings that could decimate families.

Restoring Your Honor: Paths to Retribution

Many of the Icelandic sagas deal with crimes within the community and subsequent acts to restore honor and social order. They reveal three clear paths to retribution, all of which appear in the story of Gunnar Hámundarson.

According to Njals Saga, written in the 13th century, Gunnar was one of the Icelandic chiefs at the start of the 10th century. He was probably a real person, though his character and story have been dramatized for the sake of the saga.

Gunnar is described in idealized terms. Handsome and well-groomed, Gunnar is a powerful warrior who can jump his own height in full armor and wield a sword so quickly that it looks like he has three hands. He is an expert bowman, can throw a rock and hit a man between the eyes at a great distance, and is famous for his skill with a hewing spear. He is an excellent swimmer and wins all games and physical challenges. Gunnar is also intelligent, loyal, and well spoken. For all these reasons, he was elected chief in his local community.

While Gunnar generally preferred to resolve matters peacefully, the saga recounts how he finds himself involved in several conflicts, despite his best efforts. The writer makes it clear that it was challenging to avoid these conflicts in Iceland at the time.

Murder and Wergild

According to the saga, Gunnar’s wife, Hallgerdr, gets into a conflict with the wife of Gunnar’s friend Njal, Bergthora. This results in tit-for-tat killings between the families. It starts when Gunnar’s slave Kol kills Svart, a woodcutter working for Njal; slaves and functionaries were considered like (lesser) family members. Bergthora then hires a man called Atli to kill Kol, and Hallgerdr hires Brynjolf to kill Atli. Bergthora then has her kinsman Thord Freedmason kill Brynjolf, and he is in turn killed by Hallgerdr’s kinsman Sigmund and his friend Skjold. Njal’s sons then kill Sigmund and Skjold.

While the purpose of these revenge killings was to restore balance by restoring honor, these could get out of control and devastate entire families. Later in the saga, 100 men led by Flosi Thordarson surround Njal’s house and kill Njal, his wife, and all his sons. Only his son-in-law, Kari Solmundarson, escaped the flames and spent the rest of his life hunting down the men who burned the house. The Vapnfirdinga saga recounts a feud between Brodd-Helgi and Geitir that sees all the male stakeholders of the original two households killed, leaving both houses genetically, socially, and economically extinct.

In Njals saga, Gunnar and Njal were able to end the feud started by their wives privately through a financial settlement. The saga says that they paid a price based on the status of the various victims. This was known as wergild, a pre-determined financial value placed on human life. It was a way for a killer to admit fault and buy back peace, while the victim’s family could claim that they had been compensated and their honor restored.

While the cost might be low for slaves, it could be a significant amount of silver for Karls, who were free farmers. The price for a Godi could be astronomical, and an entire community might need to band together to pay. If the murder was particularly cowardly, the price could be doubled or tripled. Between Njal and Gunnar, Gunnar paid Njal 12 ounces of silver for the woodcutter; it was 100 ounces for a free overseer, and 200 ounces for a noble kinsman.

Legal Recourse

It is prescribed that the man on whom injury is inflicted has the right to avenge himself if he wants to, up to the time of the General Assembly at which he is required to bring a case for the injuries.

Gragas, Treatment of Homicide, 12th century

 

According to the Icelandic Gragas, or Grey Goose Laws, written in the early 12th century, injured parties had a window in which they could deal with an issue before referring it to the Thing or Althing for judgment by the Godar. While this specific law belongs to a later time, it reflects the fact that people could consult the broader community for a legal resolution.

In Njals saga, Gunnar’s wife, Hallgerdr, continues to create issues by using her slave to burgle the home of a churlish man called Otkell, but she is discovered. While Gunnar offers financial compensation, the man refuses and then insults Gunnar’s honor by drawing blood with a spur. This allowed Gunnar to summon Otkell to the Althing for satisfaction.

But the legal interaction was much more complex than two men being judged by a group of their peers. With the help of Njal, Gunnar summoned Otkell for the minor injury in a way that gave him the upper hand, as it looked like Otkell’s refusal of the earlier financial settlement was malicious. Njal then used his prestige to garner support for Gunnar, ensuring the judgment in the case would go his friend’s way.

When Godar attended the Thing and Althing meetings, they were accompanied by their supporters, called “thingmen,” who could act as an influential threat. Nevertheless, Gunnar, as a man of peace, while extracting a large sum of money from Otkell, later waived much of it in exchange for a promise of continued peace.

Outlawry

While this case of Gunnar and Otkell resulted in financial compensation, the Thing could also pass punishments such as outlawry. If you were outlawed, you were excommunicated from society. If you were caught somewhere that you should not be, anyone in the community had the right to kill you on the spot without facing any consequences. Death was often the result, as members of the injured family actively sought out the outlaw to kill them.

In Iceland, there were two levels of outlawry. Lesser outlawry (fjörbaugsgarður) was for a fixed period, usually a minimum of three years. While permanent outlaws were expected to leave the community immediately, in the case of lesser outlawry, there were some concessions. These outlaws were allowed three buildings to dwell in while they waited to board a ship, and they were given safe passage to the harbor if they stayed off the main roads. This was necessary as it could take months for an outlaw to find passage off Iceland.

In the case of full outlawry (skóggangur), they were not to be housed, helped, or fed in any way, and anyone helping an outlaw risked being declared an outlaw. These outlaws were often called skoggangr, which means “man of the forest,” because they were forced to flee to the forest and live off the land. They were often seen as little better than animals.

Enforcement

While the Thing could pass judgments of compensation or outlawry, they had no police force or resources to enforce it; that was left to the individuals involved. We see this in Gunnar’s case. Otkell was unwilling to accept the judgment and so organized a group of men to ambush Gunnar. The great warrior killed Otkell and seven of his companions.

This did not work out well for Gunnar, whose power and reputation grew, causing his enemies to ally against him. Njal also prophesied that if Gunnar killed another member of Otkell’s family, he would suffer a dire fate. Mordur Valgardsson, a man jealous of Gunnar, heard the prophecy and organized for Gunnar to kill Otkell’s son, Thorgeir.

This led the Althing to outlaw Gunnar for three years. Njal warned him that if he did not leave Iceland, he would be killed. While Gunnar initially accepts this fate, as he turns to leave, he looks back on the beauty of his own farmhouse and decides to stay and fight. The avenging Vikings arrive and attack his home. While Gunnar takes many of them out single-handedly, he is eventually killed.

According to the saga, after Gunnar’s death, his son Hogni saw his shade rise from his burial mound and sing about how he would rather die than yield. Hogni then hunted down the main perpetrators and killed them in revenge. Despite his father being an outlaw, his popularity meant he successfully claimed financial compensation via the Althing.

How Blood Feuds Brought Down Iceland

While the reported body counts of many of the blood feuds recorded in the sagas are probably exaggerated, Iceland was a small community, and the loss of life had a major impact on the community. There is a reason why the sagas, mostly written in the 12th and 13th centuries, when the effects of the loss of men were being felt, cast the practice in a negative light.

The population of Iceland is estimated to have been 60-70,000 in AD 1000, but to have barely grown by the end of the 12th century due to the consistent killings. Moreover, small landowners were pushed out, as bigger families targeted them for blood feuds to claim their land. This led to a breakdown of the local legal system, and in 1262, Iceland voluntarily surrendered its independence to Norway in what is known as the Old Covenant. Iceland would not regain full independence until the 20th century.

At some time in the 8th or 9th century, the epic poem Beowulf was first written in Old English, having likely existed in some form through the oral tradition for many centuries before.

In 1939, a team led by archaeologist Basil Brown unearthed a ship-burial beneath Mound One at the site of Sutton Hoo. Taken together, Beowulf and Sutton Hoo help to illuminate one another and give us a rich and colorful insight into an otherwise dark age.

Context

There is some scholarly debate as to when Beowulf was written. The manuscript we have dates from the 11th century, but most scholars estimate that the epic was first penned before this, in the 8th or 9th centuries. What is even more difficult to deduce is when, if ever, the events of the poem might be imagined to have taken place. Scholars are able to identify certain characters as real historical figures, like Beowulf’s uncle Hygelac, King of the Geats, who is mentioned by the 6th-century chronicler Gregory of Tours. It seems fairly certain that the Beowulf poet tells us about a world inspired by the post-Roman age, in the 5th and 6th centuries AD.

This period is often dubbed the “heroic age,” largely because we have almost no literary sources for Northern Europe in this period, and thus most of the information we have about this era comes from stories told later, in which semi-mythical heroes bestride the world and do battle with monsters and with one another. The stories of King Arthur were imagined to have taken place in a similar time period.

Excavations in Lejre, Denmark, revealed the remains of several large wooden halls, with some dating from the 6th century. These findings have, of course, drawn parallels with Beowulf’s Heorot and suggest that the broad outlines of the setting of Beowulf may have had foundations in historical reality.

Excavations at Yeavering in Northumbria also revealed the centrality of the immense wooden long-hall for kings in the 6th and 7th centuries. It seems that the post-Roman age was one in which the mead-hall was central to the exercise of kingly authority and to the forging of bonds between them and their people.

The king that most scholars believe to be the man buried beneath Mound One at Sutton Hoo was Raedwald of East Anglia, who lived at the end of the 6th and beginning of the 7th centuries, dying in around 624.

Raedwald lived towards the end of the “heroic age,” as the spread of Christianity and of literacy across the Anglo-Saxon kingdoms was transforming society. Whether or not the individual beneath the mound was Raedwald, scholars are confident in dating the burial to the early-to-mid 7th century, not least because the presence of Merovingian coins in the grave indicates the Frankish kings who were on the throne around the time of the burial.

The setting of Beowulf, to the extent that it reflects any historical reality, is likely a world that is older than the Sutton Hoo ship-burial, though not significantly older. The centrality of warrior culture and the mead-hall, the fascination with animals and beasts, the importance of finery, and more all suggest that these two worlds would have understood one another and shared a good deal in common.

Another similarity is that the world of Beowulf and that of Sutton Hoo are both pagan. Although in the case of the latter, this was on the verge of changing. The first Christian Anglo-Saxon king, Aethelbert of Kent, died eight years before the death of King Raedwald of East Anglia, and according to Bede, Raedwald had himself converted to Christianity, though he seems to have renounced this later in his life (or at least not let go of his pagan deities).

Geography

Beowulf takes place in Scandinavia, in a world in which various peoples surrounding the North Sea interact and come into conflict with each other. Beowulf himself is a Geat, a tribe based in southern Sweden. In the poem, he travels to the land of the Danes. Other tribes that are mentioned include the Swedes, the Franks, the Heathobards, and the Frisians. All of these people inhabited lands that border the North Sea, and they are described as deeply interconnected, warring with and marrying each other continuously. Beowulf travels across the sea from southern Sweden to Denmark in order to offer his help to King Hrothgar at the start of the poem.

Where does Sutton Hoo come into this? Firstly, it should be understood that the Anglo-Saxon audience of the poem traced their ancestry to northern Germany and Scandinavia. The poem would likely have been understood as speaking of a past to which the audience’s ancestors had some connection.

Indeed, there are multiple kings mentioned in Beowulf who were claimed as ancestors by various Anglo-Saxon dynasties. These were legendary figures to whom early medieval dynasties were eager to trace their lineage. An example is Offa, who is mentioned in Beowulf as a king of the Angles. The great 8th-century Mercian king, also called Offa, claimed this king as an ancestor. Beowulf also mentions a Hengest, who may be a reference to the legendary Hengest, who Bede tells us led the first North Sea peoples across to Britain in the 5th century.

Sutton Hoo lies next to the river Deben, not far from the North Sea coast. In the early 7th century, it would have been easier to travel to Scandinavia from Sutton Hoo than to travel across Britain to the west coast. Sea travel was far easier than travel across the interior in this period. It is no surprise, therefore, that the person beneath Mound One was buried in a great ship, one that would have been well capable of voyaging across the North Sea. Beowulf himself travels across the North Sea in his own vessel.

The burials that resemble the goods found at Sutton Hoo most closely are found on the eastern coast of Sweden, from the Vendel Period (which covers approximately AD 550-800). The Sutton Hoo helmet in particular resembles those found from the Vendel Period, as do the decorations on the shield and the burial of a ship. Ship burials are otherwise very rare in England, but far more common on the Swedish coast.

Sutton Hoo’s links across the North Sea help us to understand Beowulf’s setting in the North Sea world, yet its composition for an English audience. The burial beneath Mound One underlines just how close the connections were between the elites of Anglo-Saxon society and the Scandinavian world from which they traced their origins.

Bringing Beowulf to Life

Before the unearthing of the Sutton Hoo ship burial, it was not always clear to what extent Beowulf reflected a historically accurate past. The centrality of monsters in the poem made it easy to put Beowulf firmly into the fantasy genre, and view the world of the poem as one largely imagined by later writers looking back at a mythical “heroic age.” The understanding of the Early Medieval Period in Northern Europe before Sutton Hoo was one of darkness and decay. Yet, Beowulf is a poem filled with glittering treasures, magnificent weapons, giant halls, and exquisite craftsmanship.

The treasures of Sutton Hoo in their abundance, intricacy, magnificence, and creativity seemed to breathe color into the descriptions of Beowulf, and demonstrated to archaeologists and historians that the early-medieval world contained great riches and splendor. More straightforwardly, the burial beneath Mound One had close similarities with many of the descriptions in Beowulf.

For example, early in the poem, the poet speaks of the death of a great king of the Danes, Scyld Shefing. The poet described how a mound of treasures from all across the world, along with weapons and armor, was stowed into the king’s vessel, amongst which the king himself was laid to rest. The person buried beneath Mound One at Sutton Hoo was also laid in the middle of a great ship, into which treasures were placed, including coins from Francia and silver plates and spoons from Byzantium.

At the very end of Beowulf, the poet describes how the eponymous hero is buried beneath a mound on the cliffs overlooking the sea, so that seafarers passing by will be able to see the memorial. The burial mounds at Sutton Hoo sit atop a hill beside the River Deben, just a few miles upstream from the North Sea. Ships traveling back and forth would have had a clear view of the mounds beneath which the great rulers of the Wuffing Dynasty were buried.

The mounds at Sutton Hoo also call to mind the barrow guarded by the dragon in the final part of Beowulf. The barrow stands near the coast and is filled with treasure buried by an ancient dynasty, just as the mounds at Sutton Hoo contain countless treasures belonging to a dynasty that long-ago ceased to exist.

When a piece of treasure is stolen from the barrow in Beowulf, its dragon guardian burns the local settlements in revenge. Unfortunately for us, the mounds at Sutton Hoo were unguarded, and many were plundered in the 16th and 17th centuries as a result.

One of the most memorable locations in Beowulf is the great hall of Hrothgar, king of the Danes, known as Heorot. Heorot is described as an immense wooden mead-hall, beneath which great numbers of Hrothgar’s people feast and make merry. Amongst the many items found in Mound One were a large cauldron along with a length of metal chain. By measuring the length of the chain, archaeologists have been able to calculate that the beams of the hall from which the cauldron would have hung would have been many feet above ground level, conjuring images of a mead hall of great size akin to Hrothgar’s Heorot.

Beowulf portrays a world teeming with mythical beasts. There are demonic creatures like Grendel and his mother, as well as a dragon, and these creatures are locked in violent conflict with humans. The items found at Sutton Hoo reveal an artistic and warrior culture in which animals and beasts play a central role. The iconic Sutton Hoo helmet has a metallic dragon running along the top of the helmet and down to form the nose guard, with its spreading wings becoming the helmet’s eyebrows.

The hoard’s many treasures are decorated with interweaving beasts and animals, depicted as both elegant and sometimes fearsome. We sense from Sutton Hoo a world in which fantastical creatures are felt to be very real, and they form a central part of the expression of power and of martial prowess. Just as Beowulf proved himself by battling demons and dragons, so the warrior buried at Sutton Hoo would have entered into battle with a dragon glaring out at his enemies.

One of the many items found beneath Mound One was the fragmentary remains of a lyre. It is enticing to imagine the possibility that that very instrument might have been used to sing the story of Beowulf in the great hall of King Raedwald. In Beowulf, the Danish king Hrothgar fills his hall with harp songs, and we are told how the harp was used to aid storytelling and the recounting of bygone glories.

Ultimately, the discovery of the burial chamber beneath Mound One at Sutton Hoo and the epic poem Beowulf shine a thin light on what remains a dark period of history in Northern Europe. Taken together, they help to breathe life into one another.

The discovery at Sutton Hoo helped to bring Beowulf out of the realm of purely fantasy and fairytale to be taken seriously as an insight into the North Sea world of post-Roman Europe. It made the descriptions of the poet tangible and real. Meanwhile, the epic poem helps us to understand the significance of the items contained in the burial chamber at Sutton Hoo, and provides an insight into how and why the individual was buried there.

Medieval justice was often as much theater as it was punishment. Public execution methods served multiple purposes as they simultaneously allowed the community to satisfy its demand for retribution, demonstrated the power of the state, and provided a warning to future criminals. The most severe punishments were reserved for the greatest crimes, ones that ruptured the sense of social order. The punishments imposed for these crimes were designed to be as prolonged and agonizing as possible to match the heinousness of the crime.

1. Hanging, Drawing, & Quartering

Depicted at the climax of the film Braveheart, the process of hanging, drawing, and quartering was a long and drawn-out process designed to make the condemned suffer as much pain and humiliation as was physically possible.

Reserved for traitors, the execution was multiple punishments stacked on top of each other. First, the prisoner would be dragged by a horse through the streets of the city to suffer abuse by the common people. Once arriving at the execution site, the prisoner was lifted up to hang by the neck. This was not a short, sharp drop designed to break the neck. Rather, it was a slow strangulation meant to drag out suffering.

Before the condemned fell unconscious or died, they were lowered back down to the scaffold. Unfortunately for them, their torment was only just beginning.

They were then tied to a table, and a large brazier was lit next to them. With a sharp knife, the executioner would open them up from the sternum down to the groin. They would then reach into the torso, pull out the various organs, and toss them into the fire. The condemned would be kept alive and conscious through the whole ordeal, forced to see their innards removed and smell their own burning organs.

When there was nothing left to remove, the condemned was beheaded.

One final humiliation lay in store for the body, however, as it was chopped up into four pieces. The head would be placed on a pike, and the quarters of the body would be sent to the four corners of England as a reminder of what treason against the king brought.

2. The Breaking Wheel

In use across Europe from antiquity through the 19th century, the breaking wheel was a punishment for murderers, rapists, traitors, and highwaymen that provided a grisly spectacle often lasting multiple days.

The exact details of the execution varied from place to place, but each variation followed the same template. The condemned would have their legs and arms broken and laced through the spokes of a large cart wheel. In France, this was accomplished by tying the condemned to the wheel, rotating it around, and as each limb passed, the executioner would strike it with a heavy metal bar. In the Holy Roman Empire, the limbs were often broken by being crushed by the heavy wheel itself.

If the executioner was instructed to show mercy, he could behead the condemned after one or two limbs were broken.

Once the broken and shattered limbs were tied around the wheel spokes, the wheel would be hoisted up on top of a large pole for all to see. Like the ancient practice of crucifixion, it would often take a while for death to claim the wheel’s victim. The unfortunates would slowly succumb to the elements, their wounds, and the various animals that would come looking for an easy meal.

In 1348, a man named Bona Dies supposedly remained conscious for four days afterwards. In 1581, Christman Genipperteinga, a German serial killer, was said to have lasted nine days before dying.

3. Burning

Most famously used in cases of heresy and witchcraft, burning was also employed as a punishment for treason, arson, and a handful of other serious crimes throughout the Medieval Period.

For heretics, burning was both practical and symbolic. Fire often takes on a cleansing property in Christian thought, with purgatory being described as a cleansing fire. In addition, with the body totally reduced to ashes, there would be no relics from the heretic that could be collected by any remaining followers of the heresy.

Interestingly, burning was seen as a more “modest” punishment for women accused of treason. Hanging, drawing, and quartering required the condemned be stripped naked, which was seen as too great a humiliation for women. Burning allowed the condemned to remain clothed while still suffering unimaginable pain.

4. Impalement

Infamously used as a terror tactic in warfare by Vlad III of Wallachia, impalement was also used as a form of judicial punishment. There were two types of impalement practiced. The first, known as transversal impalement, would involve a spike being thrust through the stomach or back, resulting in the victim lying horizontally across the pole. The second, known as longitudinal impalement, would involve the spike being driven up vertically through the torso.

The victim would then be left on the spike to slowly die from a combination of exposure and massive blood loss.

5. Boiling

Part of the horror of seeing someone boiled alive comes from the fact that the action is used so ordinarily for cooking. A pot full of bubbling liquid is something most people will see every day. That everyday scene was suddenly inverted when a person was thrown into the pot.

Boiling alive was the punishment for coin forgery in parts of the Holy Roman Empire, but its actual use there is not well documented. However, there is solid evidence of boilings that took place in the 1500s.

A notorious example was the case of a man named Richard Roose. He was a cook who confessed (under torture) to trying to poison Bishop John Fisher in 1532. King Henry VIII was so horrified by the crime that a new law was hastily pushed through Parliament that classified poisoning as a treasonous offense and specified death by boiling as the punishment. The law was specifically written to retroactively apply to Roose. In April of 1532, he was marched to his place of execution. He was chained up and suspended over a cauldron of boiling water. He was dunked into the cauldron, left to suffer, and then removed. The whole process was repeated three separate times, and his death reportedly took two hours.

Roose said he had no co-conspirators and acted alone. However, as Bishop Fisher was a firm opponent of Henry VIII’s attempts to receive an annulment of his marriage to Catherine of Aragon, some historical conspiracy theorists suspect that Henry himself had something to do with the attempt on Fisher’s life.

6. Flaying

Flaying is the process of removing the skin from the muscle beneath. Extensively practiced in the ancient world, it was used sparingly in the Medieval Period. St. Bartholomew was often depicted holding his own skin in Christian artwork, as that was his method of martyrdom according to his hagiography.

The most well-known case of someone being flayed was the case of Bertrand de Gourdon. He had shot and killed King Richard the Lionheart of England in 1199. While the king forgave and pardoned him on his deathbed, the mercenary leader Mercadier, who was employed by Richard, was not as keen to let the young man get away with regicide. He dragged Bertrand back to camp and ordered him to be flayed alive.

The flayer would start at the extremities, like the hands or feet, and slowly slice the skin away with a sharp knife, moving in toward the torso. The ultimate goal of flaying was to be able to remove the victim’s skin and have it remain in one piece for the maximum visual impact. This was a procedure that many would have experience with performing on animals, as the removal of skin was necessary for the production of leather.

7. Blood Eagle

The Blood Eagle was a spectacular form of ritual execution performed by the Vikings during the Early Medieval Period. Many modern scholars debate whether the execution method was actually performed at all, or was just a literary flourish.

The victim would be bound and laid face down with their back exposed. The executioner would then make a long incision down the back and pull apart the skin and muscle to expose the spine and rib bones. Each rib bone would then be broken and torn away from the spinal column to expose the inside of the torso. The next step is where the procedure gets its avian moniker: the lungs would then be taken out of the cavity and splayed on the victim’s back to resemble wings.

In 867, Aella, the king of Northumbria and the killer of Ragnar Lothbrok, was captured by the Great Heathen Army. It was written in the sagas that Ragnar’s kinsmen “carve[ed] the bloody eagle” on his back. Thus was Ragnar’s death avenged, and the terror of resisting the Northmen spread among the English.

8. Lingchi

Medieval Europe did not have a monopoly on brutal executions. In China, the highest form of punishment was lingchi, which translates to “slow slicing.” In English, it is better known as “death by a thousand cuts.”

The punishment was reserved for what were seen as the worst crimes imaginable, against both the state and against nature. These included the murder of one’s lord or one’s parents.

Lingchi was, as the name suggests, a deliberately slow death. The victim was tied to a pole, and the executioner would grab hold of the flesh at different parts of the body before slicing it off. The process would start at the extremities and work its way in towards the torso. After great chunks of the victim’s flesh had been cut away, the amputations would begin. Again, these started at the hands and feet and then worked their way in.

The gruesome process was actually banned several times throughout Chinese history as it was seen as too extreme to be allowed in a moral society. However, it was always reinstated. The last known person executed by lingchi was a man named Fu Zhuli, who killed his master in 1905.

This late date makes Lingchi possibly the best documented form of execution on this list, as photographs exist of the whole process. View them at your own risk.

A surprising historical development in early Christianity was its northward expansion into Britain and its establishment as a religious staple in British life. One of the earliest leadership roles within Christianity was that of the Archbishop of Canterbury.

Christianity in England Before the First Archbishop of Canterbury

Some evidence of Christianity being practiced in Britain exists by at least the second century AD. The first British martyr, Alban, was executed in the early 300s AD, and various other accounts show Christianity arriving in Britain well within a few generations of its founding. However, the decline of the Roman Empire and the withdrawal of Roman troops in 410 AD allowed invasions by Anglo-Saxons and Celts, and Christianity declined significantly in the British Isles outside of Wales in the 400s and 500s AD.

The Mission to Britain

According to Bede in his Ecclesiastical History of the English People, Pope Gregory I, also known as Pope Gregory the Great, encountered a group of Anglo-Saxon boys for sale in a marketplace. He inquired as to where they were from and whether or not they were pagan, and responded,

“Alas! what pity,” said he, “that the author of darkness should own men of such fair countenances; and that with such grace of outward form, their minds should be void of inward grace.” He therefore again asked, what was the name of that nation? and was answered, that they were called Angles. “Right,” said he, “for they have an angelic face, and it is meet that such should be co-heirs with the Angels in heaven…”

Gregory would go on to send several missions into Britain, among which would be several men who would become Archbishops and lead the church in Britain.

The First Archbishop of Canterbury

Augustine of Canterbury (not to be confused with Augustine of Hippo) was assigned by Pope Gregory I to go to England in 597 AD. The Anglo-Saxon King of Kent, Aethelbert, had married the Christian Frankish princess Bertha, and Aethelbert would eventually convert as well. Aethelbert granted property in Canterbury to the church (about 62 miles from London), and Christianity obtained a permanent foothold in Britain from that point forward, beginning under the capable leadership of Augustine.

Other Early Archbishops of Canterbury

King Aethelbert died in 616 AD, and his heirs returned to their previous pagan practices. Augustine’s successors had to leave at times, with some occasionally residing in Francia. Much of their work was concentrated on missionary activities in converting the pagan Anglo-Saxons to Christianity and establishing the church in Britain. The first five Archbishops of Canterbury— Augustine, Laurence, Mellitus, Justus, and Honorius— were all members of the Gregorian missions to Britain.

Theodore of Tarsus was probably the most influential of the early Archbishops. He had extensively traveled and studied in his youth, particularly in Antioch and Constantinople. When he arrived in Britain in 669, he handled several needed church reforms, particularly at the Synod of Hertford in 673 AD. Seeing the need for education, he established a sort of seminary at Canterbury, where Bede records:

“They attracted a large number of students, into whose minds they poured the waters of wholesome knowledge day by day. In addition to instructing them in the Holy Scriptures, they also taught their pupils poetry, astronomy, and the calculation of the church calendar.”

Following Theodore, and up through the early medieval period, most of the archbishops were concerned with the spread of Christianity throughout England, as well as administrative matters. A majority of the theological disputes across the church had been dealt with before Augustine’s arrival in Britain, and the geographical distance from the continent allowed the development of the British church to be somewhat apart from the rest of the other theological and political disputes occurring on the continent. There would be little controversy over the position until after 1000 AD.

Despite best efforts, researchers have been unable to verify whether King Arthur was a real historical figure, but they do agree that the Arthurian legends are set in a real historical setting of 5th and 6th-century Britain. While Arthur has not been identified in the surviving records of Dark Age Britain and the Anglo-Saxon conquests, many of the other characters who appear in the legend can be, including some important villains.

1. King Mark of Cornwall

King Mark of Cornwall appears in the Arthurian legends about Tristan and Isolde. He is described as Tristan’s uncle by marriage. It is very likely that the legendary King Mark can be identified as the historical Conomor, a ruler of part of Brittany in the mid-6th century.

The earliest piece of evidence for this claim is the 9th-century document known as the Life of St Paul Aurelian. The author sttes that the king known as “Quonomorus” was also named “Mark.” The only “Quonomorus” in this era was Conomor of Brittany. Just like King Mark of the Arthurian legends, Conomor of Brittany was infamous for his villainy involving marriages and obsession.

An inscribed stone from Cornwall dating to about the 6th century includes the name Conomor. It also, according to the most recent scholarship, includes the name of Tristan, confirming the close connection between the two.

2. Rhita the Giant

A somewhat more obscure villain from the Arthurian legends is Rhita Gawr, whose epithet means “Giant.” He appears in European and English tales as Rions or Rience. Geoffrey of Monmouth referred to him as Ritho, a form much closer to the Welsh spelling. According to most versions of the Arthurian legends, Rhita Gawr was a giant who lived in North Wales. He was an evil king who had killed various other monarchs and wore their beards on a garment. He challenged Arthur to a duel, but the young and newly appointed king killed the giant.

Like many Arthurian legends, this story is full of fanciful elements, including the very nature of Rhita as a giant. Nevertheless, we can make a plausible identification of this character with a historical figure from the period. Bede, the 8th-century English historian, referred to an Irish figure named “Reuda.” He founded the kingdom of Dal Riata, which was named after him.

Notice the similarity between “Reuda” or “Riata” and the name of the legendary giant, “Rhita.” However, we need more than just a similar name to make a convincing case. Although Bede himself does not give a date for Reuda’s reign, later records place the founding of Dal Riata at the very end of the 5th century. This would logically place Reuda in the early Arthurian period.

Later Irish records say that Dal Riata was founded by three brothers. The son and successor of the most prominent of these three, Fergus Mor, was named Domangart Reti. Given the apparent conflict between Bede’s account of the founding of this kingdom and the later Irish versions, it seems very likely that Bede’s “Reuda” was this Domangart Reti. Thus, the “founder” referred to by Bede was the son of one of the three brothers who allegedly conquered the territory originally.

Presumably, Domangart consolidated his family’s rule of the area, thus coming to be known as its founder in some traditions. Domangart Reti is recorded as dying in the early 6th century, and this matches with the placement of Rhita’s death in the Arthurian legends. With this evidence in view, it is very likely that the Rhita Gawr of Welsh tradition is identical to the historical Domangart Reti, Bede’s legendary Reuda.

Although it is true that there is no tradition of the kings of Dal Riata dominating North Wales, we would do well to consider the earliest version of the legend. Geoffrey of Monmouth’s account is the earliest surviving source. He does not specifically say that Rhita (or “Ritho,” as he calls him) ruled over North Wales. He simply says that North Wales is where the battle between him and Arthur took place. Since most Welsh traditions place Arthur in South Wales, meeting a king from Dal Riata halfway between their respective territories, which would be North Wales, is a reasonable scenario.

3. Lucius Tiberius

As well as describing battles in Britain, the Arthurian legends describe Arthur fighting battles on the continent against the Romans. As scholar David Dumville argued, this part of the legend almost certainly came from Magnus Maximus’ usurpation of the Western Roman Empire, when he invaded from Britain. However, beyond this basic connection, relatively little research has been done on the intricate connections between the legend and its historical basis.

The figure who serves as Arthur’s primary antagonist in the legend is a certain Lucius Tiberius. Although some online sources describe him as an emperor, the earliest version of the legend only ever calls him a military leader.

The two Roman leaders of the army of Emperor Theodosius at the climax of Maximus’ usurpation were Flavius Promotus and Flavius Timasius. Of the two of them, the latter is clearly the better option for the legendary Tiberius. When we consider the customs of medieval scribes, this identification is all but certain.

Firstly, it should be noted that the letter “r” and the letter “s” in some medieval Welsh manuscripts are almost identical. In the name “Atroys,” for instance, found in the Harleian MS 3859, we see both letters in the same name. It is only by a minuscule difference that the letters are distinguishable from each other. For this reason, these two letters were often swapped by mistake.

The other main difference between “Timasius” and “Tiberius” is the ‘b’ instead of the “m.” In fact, both letters were sometimes used to represent the same sound. An example of this is seen in the work of Gregory of Tours, who referred to Conomor of Brittany with a “b” in the place of the “m.” Sometimes, the letter “f” or “v” was used in place of both, masking whether “b” or “m” had been there originally.

Therefore, we can see that the evolution from “Timasius” to “Tiberius” (a much more familiar name to the medieval scribes) would have been exceedingly easy. Therefore, Timasius can very likely be identified as the Roman military leader Tiberius from this Arthurian legend.

4. Osla Big-Knife

Osla Big-Knife is a very obscure villain from the Arthurian legends. His epithet appears as “Gyllellfawr” in the Welsh texts. He appears in the late Mabinogi tale known as The Dream of Rhonabwy. This work presents the story of the prelude to Arthur’s famous Battle of Badon. In this tale, the leader of the Saxons is named Osla. Interestingly, a separate Welsh tradition records the name of the leader of the Saxon army as Cheldric. These two bits of information can help us to identify Osla.

The Cheldric who appears as Arthur’s enemy in the Arthurian legends is almost certainly Cerdic of Wessex. He was a historical Saxon leader who fought against the Britons in the south in exactly the era in which Arthur was alive, according to legend, fighting against the Saxons. Notably, Anglo-Saxon genealogies make him the grandson of an otherwise unknown figure called Esla. Very likely, this Esla is the figure recorded as Osla in Welsh tradition. It may be that Cerdic was a young commander in charge of the armies of his grandfather, accounting for the two seemingly contradictory traditions about the leader of the Saxons at Badon.

Historical Villains of the Arthurian Legends

An illustration from The Mabinogion, by Charlotte Guest, 1877. Source: Wikimedia Commons[/caption]

Thus, several villains from the Arthurian legends can be identified as historical figures. Several heroic figures can be identified as well, such as Sir Uriens of Gorre and Sir Ywain. This verifies that, despite fantastical and supernatural elements, the Arthurian legends were tied to historical Britain.

The Medieval Period, which spanned approximately 1,000 years from the 470s to the 1450s AD, was a period of cultural evolution. Populations migrated into major urban centers, which became symbols of power that benefited the ruling class through structures such as the feudal system. People lived in close quarters that were not always comfortable, but were certainly vibrant. These ten cities were not necessarily the largest in terms of land area or population, but they shaped life in the Medieval era.

1. Angkor, Khmer Empire, Cambodia

Angkor was once the jewel of the Khmer Empire in present-day Cambodia. The city was massive, both in land and population. IN AD 1100, it was considered the largest city in the world. The metropolis sprawled over 1,000 square kilometers (390 square miles) and housed around one million people.

The only thing remaining from the grand city today is its central temple, Angkor Wat. But the capital city of the Khmer Empire was once a modern urban center. It featured roads as wide as airplane runways, canals, rice farms, and the world’s largest hand-cut water reservoir. It had an intricate system for navigating the monsoon season to make its harvests bountiful. The city of Angkor was ruled by god-kings, who were believed to be the earthly incarnations of the Hindu God Shiva. The city’s population flourished, with schools and public hospitals.

The “temple city,” as it is called today, was abandoned around the 1400s for a variety of factors. Military pressure from the neighboring Ayutthaya Kingdom, in modern-day Thailand, saw the city captured in 1431. Climate change, shifts in trade routes, and the widespread adoption of Theravada Buddhism all weakened the city’s location and the power of its kings.

Angkor remains an incredibly popular tourist destination today. However, several conflicts over the past few hundred years have made the excavation and analysis of the site difficult, so archaeological work is still ongoing.

2. Baghdad, Abbasid Caliphate, Iraq

Baghdad, located in modern Iraq, was the capital of the Abbasid Caliphate from the early Middle Ages onwards. Construction on the city began in AD 762. By the end of the eighth century, the city was already home to half a million residents. It was the political and cultural center of the Middle East during its height. Between the 700s and 900s, approximately one million people lived in Baghdad or its suburbs.

The city was built in two semi-circles on either side of the Tigris River. The infrastructure of the city was modern, with aqueducts and sewage systems, several public squares and gardens, and wide avenues. According to Yaqut, an Arabic scholar who lived a few centuries after the city’s heyday, the avenues of the city were built to be 40 cubits (60 feet) wide. The city did not allow garbage or refuse to build up within its walls.

While Baghdad remained important throughout the Middle Ages and into the modern day, the Abbasid Caliphate was not what it once was after the 10th century, and the city declined. Two major attacks occurred during the Middle Ages, one in 1258 and one in 1401. Today, it is still the capital of modern Iraq and is the second-largest city in the Arab world.

3. Gangaikonda Cholaparum, India

The southern Indian city of Cholapuram, the name of which translates as the “city of the Chola who conquered the Ganges,” was founded by the emperor Rajendra Chola I in 1025 to commemorate his successful military expedition to the Ganges in North India. He established the city as his new imperial capital, and it thrived for the next 250 years.

The city was meticulously planned around the principles laid out in the Tamil Vastu and Agama Sastra sacred texts. The central jewel of the city was the Brihadeeswarar Temple, dedicated to Shiva, renowned for its temple tower, intricate carvings, and impressive sculptures. It housed many treasures from the region conquered by the Chola dynasty. It also had a large artificial lake filled with water from the distant Ganges.

Thanks to Chola patronage, art, culture, and education thrived in the city, which grew to have a population of around one million people. But the city would decline with the declining power of the dynasty, and was plundered of most of its riches. However, the Brihadeeswarar Temple continues to be an active center of worship and learning.

4. Constantinople, Byzantine Empire, Turkey

Constantinople served as the great epicenter of the Byzantine Empire. Though it was founded in AD 330 by the Roman Emperor Constantine the Great, the city reached its zenith in the early medieval period. The fall of the Western Roman Empire shifted global focus to the Eastern Roman Empire, with its Emperor, Justinian, ruling from Constantinople.

The city itself was large throughout the transitions it faced, from Roman to Byzantine to Ottoman and back again. The population, at various periods in history, was approximately one million people. It served as a major hub for trade. Constantinople’s unique position straddling Europe and Asia poised the city to become a key player in international affairs and commerce. The Venetians, along with traders and merchants from the Middle and Far East, came to the city to do business, making its economy boom.

However, Constantinople faced near-constant challenges, with sieges and battles often threatening to wipe it out. However, the city endured throughout the age of great medieval cities, becoming the capital of the Ottoman Empire in 1453. The city would remain a key player throughout the Middle Ages and into the modern period.

Today, Constantinople is part of Türkiye and known as Istanbul. It is still a huge city with strategic importance in the international affairs of both Europe and Asia.

5. Cairo, Fatimid Dynasty, Egypt

Cairo, Egypt, was built in AD 969 by the Fatimid Dynasty to rival Baghdad as the largest city in the Islamic world. It was the capital of the dynasty and served as an example of the power and enlightenment of Islam in the Middle Ages.

Cairo is known as “The City of a Thousand Minarets” for good reason. A truly Islamic city, the number is not fabricated. Some claim that there are more than 1,000 mosques in the city. These places of worship, however, also served as places of administration and learning in the medieval city of Cairo. The Al-Hassan Mosque, Cairo’s first, was a center of education where thousands of young Egyptians and foreigners could learn, whether they were rich or poor.

When the city was taken over by the Mamluk Dynasty, mosques also served as hospitals and centers of community. The rulers, who had risen from slavery to power, cared for the lower classes and helped fortify the city as an Islamic stronghold against the Crusades. Cairo was also a key hub of commerce, as it sat at the confluence of European, African, and Asian trade. This position would make Cairo one of the world’s wealthiest medieval cities.

Today, Cairo is still the capital of Egypt and is the largest city in the Arab world. It is a center of Islamic power in Northern Africa, despite several modern conflicts.

6. Hangzhou, China

One of the seven ancient capitals of China, Hangzhou may have been one of the largest cities in the world in the 12th century. With a population of at least one million people and its position at the end of the Grand Canal, Hangzhou thrived as a capital for several Chinese dynasties.

Hangzhou’s location was paramount to its prosperity. It sat directly within the Silk Road trade network. It flourished as a trading city, with archaeological evidence of products from Hangzhou being found as far away as Iran. Hangzhou was the capital for both the Wuyue Kingdom and the Southern Song Dynasty. Even when it was not serving as a capital city, the strategic location of Hangzhou made it a powerful city.

Though it was well known for its wealth, Hangzhou was also a great center of Chinese culture, especially as it related to early literature and Buddhism. Its cultural and economic prowess attracted travelers like Marco Polo and Ibn Batuta, who wrote of the city in grandiose terms. Marco Polo declared that it was “without a doubt the finest and most splendid city in the world.” He marveled at the city’s paved streets and numerous bridges. Polo’s writings elucidate the splendor of Hangzhou in the 13th century, when it was still the largest city in the world.

Hangzhou is still an important economic and cultural center today, with thriving rice and silk production. Though it is no longer a capital, it is still a metropolis with a modern population of at least ten million people.

7. Kaifeng, China

Kaifeng, like Hangzhou, was another of the ancient capitals of China. It thrived during the Northern Song Dynasty of 960 and 1127. The population peaked at around one million people. This was largely thanks to its strategic position connected to the mighty Yellow River, and later the Grand Canal, placing it on one of the country’s most important trade routes.

Kaifeng had an extensive canal system that facilitated transport around the city. It was chosen as the capital by several other dynasties, including the Later Liang, Later Jin, Later Han, and Later Zhou dynasties. But even when it was not the official imperial capital, it remained a major regional hub in China’s northern plain. Its most striking architectural features were the Iron Pagoda and the Dragon Pavilion.

Like many other economic centers, Kaifeng also developed into a center for art, culture, science, and innovation as it attracted students and intellectuals, which led to it becoming an early hub for the printing industry. Kaifeng also attracted a well-documented Jewish community that brought unique artifacts, foods, and culture to the region.

Kaifeng waned after the fall of the Northern Song Dynasty and the Jurchen invasion in 1127. Today, it retains much of its ancient charm and is a popular tourist destination.

8. Paris, France

Still the capital of France today, Paris came out of relative obscurity and developed into a large, cosmopolitan city in the Middle Ages. In the 10th century, Paris was considered little more than a provincial city. It had a cathedral, and not much else. This changed, however, when the Capetian Kings decided to rule France from the Île de la Cité. They made it the site of their royal palace and the new Notre Dame Cathedral.

Under the Capetians, Paris became a city that was important on three fronts: religious, educational, and commercial. The Left Bank of the Seine was a hub for important French monasteries and several colleges that were among the leading educational institutions in Europe. On the Right Bank, the ports, merchants, and markets made the city into a commercial hub. Its prosperity, combined with a focus on religion and education, led to Paris becoming an important center of illuminated manuscripts and the first city to develop buildings in the Gothic style.

We have no concrete idea of the number of people living in Paris before 1328. However, the census of that year counted over 61,000 households within the city, making the population estimate anywhere from 210,000 to 270,000. Though the city faced several hardships, including sieges and the Bubonic plague, it recovered to become one of the most populous cities in the western world during the Middle Ages.

9. Tenochtitlan, Aztec Empire, Mexico

Perhaps the largest city in pre-Columbian America, Tenochtitlan was the capital of the expanding Aztec Empire from the 14th to the 15th century. Built on an island in the middle of Lake Texcoco, it was the site of royal palaces, temples, markets, and other public buildings that served the Aztec people well and contributed to the prosperity of the city and the empire.

The Aztec Empire, from Tenochtitlan, had vast trade networks from the Gulf of Mexico and possibly into the Inca Empire. The population was probably around 200,000 people and was split into complex social classes, the most complex in the Mesoamerican world.

When Spanish conquistadors arrived in the capital, they found a thriving city that was rivaled in population only by Paris or Venice in Europe. The palace of the emperor, Moctezuma II, was a sprawling complex that boasted zoos, botanical gardens, and aquariums. The city was, however, conquered by the Spanish, led by Hernán Cortés, and turned into a municipality of the Viceroyalty of New Spain.

While the city remained under Spanish rule for several hundred years, the capital of Mexico did not move, and was built around the medieval capital. Tenochtitlan sits at the historic center of modern-day Mexico City and is still one of the most populous cities in the Americas, with a population of almost ten million people.

10. Venice, Italy

Considered by many to be the greatest maritime power of the Middle Ages, Venice began as a safe haven for refugees fleeing from the collapse of the Western Roman Empire. The marshy lagoon would serve as an important strategic location for what would become the Republic of Venice. Its access to the Mediterranean Sea allowed trade on a wider scope than the rest of Europe.

The city-state of Venice began conquering areas within the Eastern Mediterranean. Meanwhile, it retained a high level of independence, both in religion and government, from Rome and other powers on the Italian peninsula. Venice was ruled by a doge, or a duke, who served for life and was elected by the Great Council of Venice. It was billed as a republic but was, in practice, ruled by oligarchs of the merchant classes.

The city-state of Venice grew steadily and became a great center of art, architecture, and publishing during the Middle Ages. Its Renaissance, considered to have begun before the general Italian Renaissance. This was a direct result of its economic prowess and fostering of the arts in service to the maritime republic. Venice’s power was relatively unchecked until trade routes to the East Indies and the Americas opened in the 16th century. This granted other European powers the same ability to foster effective trade as Venice.

Venice was incorporated into a unified Italy in the late 19th century. While it is still a center of culture within Italy, it is not considered the power it once was. It was a unique and completely maritime-focused power. Its canals are now used for the likes of tourist gondola rides and water taxis rather than vast naval fleets.

Update (6/17/26): An earlier version of this article incorrectly stated that Istanbul, and not Ankara, is the capital of present-day Türkiye.

A surprising historical development in early Christianity was its northward expansion into Britain and its establishment as a religious staple in British life. One of the earliest leadership roles within Christianity was that of the Archbishop of Canterbury.

Christianity in England Before the First Archbishop of Canterbury

Some evidence of Christianity being practiced in Britain exists by at least the second century AD. The first British martyr, Alban, was executed in the early 300s AD, and various other accounts show Christianity arriving in Britain well within a few generations of its founding. However, the decline of the Roman Empire and the withdrawal of Roman troops in 410 AD allowed invasions by Anglo-Saxons and Celts, and Christianity declined significantly in the British Isles outside of Wales in the 400s and 500s AD.

The Mission to Britain

According to Bede in his Ecclesiastical History of the English People, Pope Gregory I, also known as Pope Gregory the Great, encountered a group of Anglo-Saxon boys for sale in a marketplace. He inquired as to where they were from and whether or not they were pagan, and responded,

“Alas! what pity,” said he, “that the author of darkness should own men of such fair countenances; and that with such grace of outward form, their minds should be void of inward grace.” He therefore again asked, what was the name of that nation? and was answered, that they were called Angles. “Right,” said he, “for they have an angelic face, and it is meet that such should be co-heirs with the Angels in heaven…”

Gregory would go on to send several missions into Britain, among which would be several men who would become Archbishops and lead the church in Britain.

The First Archbishop of Canterbury

Augustine of Canterbury (not to be confused with Augustine of Hippo) was assigned by Pope Gregory I to go to England in 597 AD. The Anglo-Saxon King of Kent, Aethelbert, had married the Christian Frankish princess Bertha, and Aethelbert would eventually convert as well. Aethelbert granted property in Canterbury to the church (about 62 miles from London), and Christianity obtained a permanent foothold in Britain from that point forward, beginning under the capable leadership of Augustine.

Other Early Archbishops of Canterbury

King Aethelbert died in 616 AD, and his heirs returned to their previous pagan practices. Augustine’s successors had to leave at times, with some occasionally residing in Francia. Much of their work was concentrated on missionary activities in converting the pagan Anglo-Saxons to Christianity and establishing the church in Britain. The first five Archbishops of Canterbury— Augustine, Laurence, Mellitus, Justus, and Honorius— were all members of the Gregorian missions to Britain.

Theodore of Tarsus was probably the most influential of the early Archbishops. He had extensively traveled and studied in his youth, particularly in Antioch and Constantinople. When he arrived in Britain in 669, he handled several needed church reforms, particularly at the Synod of Hertford in 673 AD. Seeing the need for education, he established a sort of seminary at Canterbury, where Bede records:

“They attracted a large number of students, into whose minds they poured the waters of wholesome knowledge day by day. In addition to instructing them in the Holy Scriptures, they also taught their pupils poetry, astronomy, and the calculation of the church calendar.”

Following Theodore, and up through the early medieval period, most of the archbishops were concerned with the spread of Christianity throughout England, as well as administrative matters. A majority of the theological disputes across the church had been dealt with before Augustine’s arrival in Britain, and the geographical distance from the continent allowed the development of the British church to be somewhat apart from the rest of the other theological and political disputes occurring on the continent. There would be little controversy over the position until after 1000 AD.