Anno 924.—In this year before Midsummer, King Edward went with his forces to Nottingham, and commanded the town to be built on the south side of the river, over against the other, and the bridge over the Trent, between the two towns: and then he went thence into Peakland, to Bakewell, and commanded a town to be built nigh thereunto, and manned. And then chose him for father and for lord, the King of the Scots [Constantine II.] and the whole nation of the Scots, and Raegnald and the son of Eadulf and all those who dwell in Northumbria, as well English as Danes, and Northmen and others, and also the king of the Strathclyde Britons and all the Strathclyde Britons.

Anno 925.—This year King Edward died, and Athelstan his son succeeded to the kingdom.

[Note.—The events of 921, 922, 923, 924 probably occurred three years earlier—i.e., in 918, 919, 920, 921.]

ATHELSTAN’S DOOM CONCERNING HOT IRON AND WATER (925-940).

Source.—Thorpe, Ancient Laws and Institutes of England.

And concerning the ordeal we enjoin by command of God, and of the archbishop, and of all the bishops, that no man come within the church after the fire is borne in with which the ordeal shall be heated, except the mass-priest, and him who shall go thereto: and let there be measured nine feet from the stake to the mark, by the man’s feet who goes thereto. And if it be water, let it be heated till it sings towards boiling. And let the vessel be iron or brass or lead or earthen. And if it be a single accusation, let the hand dive after the stone up to the wrist; and if it be threefold, up to the elbow. And when the ordeal is ready, then let two men of either side go in, and let them be agreed that it is as hot as we have said before. And let an equal number of men of either side go in, and let them stand on both sides of the ordeal, along the church; and let them all be fasting; ... and let the mass-priest sprinkle holy water over them all, and let them each taste of the holy water, and give them all the kiss-book [the Gospels or Pax] and the sign of the cross: and let no man mend the fire any longer when the consecration is begun, but let the iron lie upon the embers until the last collect: after that, let it be laid upon the stake, and let there be no other speaking within, except that they pray earnestly to God Almighty that he make manifest what is most true. And let him go thereto; and let his hand be sealed up: and let it be postponed till after the third day, whether it be foul or clean within the seal. And he who breaks this law, let the ordeal be void for him, and let him pay to the king 120 shillings as a fine.

THE BATTLE OF BRUNANBURH (937).

Source.—Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. Translated by W.

[Note that the lines are to be read across the page.]

Here the King Athelstan,of earls the ruler,
of heroes the ring-giver,and eke his brother,
Edmund the Atheling,long-lasting glory
won in the battlewith edges of swords
near to Brunanburh:the shield-wall they clove,
they hewed the war-lindenswith leavings of hammers,
the heirs of Eadweard;as was befitting them
from their forebears,that they in battle oft
against every foemanthe land defended,
hoard and homesteads.The foeman cringed,
the Scottish peopleand the seamen,
fated to death, fell:the field grew wet
with blood of fighters,since the sun up
at morning tide,glorious star,
over lands glided,God’s shining candle,
the eternal Lord’s,till the excellent creature
sank to her seat.There lay many men
with spears done to death,heroes of Northmen
over their shield shot,as eke the Scottish,
weary, of war sad.Wessex men onwards
the live-long dayin their companies
footprints followedof loathed peoples;
hewed they the runawaysbehind terribly
with swords milled to sharpness.Mercians refused not
the hardest of handplayto one of the heroes
of those who with Anlafover the wave-mingler
in the ship’s bosomsought for the land
fated to fighting.Five there lay
on the battle-fieldkings all-youthful
by swords laid to sleep,as also seven
of the earls of Anlaf,countless of the army
seamen and Scottish.There was put to flight
of Northmen the chief,by need compelled
to his ship’s stem-piecewith small company:
the ship pressed afloat;the king away went
on the yellow flood,his life he rescued.
So there eke the sage onecame by fleeing
north to his kindred,Constantinus,
hoary fighter;he could not exult
in mingling of swords:he was reft of his kinsmen,
deprived of his friendson battle-field,
cut off in the contest,and he his son forsook
on place of fightingforedone with wounds,
young in the warfare.He could not boast him,
grizzly-haired hero,of clash of swords,
old wrong-doer,nor Anlaf the more,
with their leavings of armies;they could not laugh
that they in battle-workbetter men were
on the battle-field,in banner’s conflict,
in meeting of spears,in moot of heroes,
in weapon’s contest,that they on the death-place
with Eadweard’schildren contended.
Failed him the Northmenwith their nailed ships;
dreary those left by spears,on dashing ocean,
over deep water,Dublin they seek
and again Irelandin shameful wise.
Likewise the brethrenthe two together,
the king and Atheling,sought their kindred,
West Saxons’ land,in war exulting.
Left they behind themcorpses to share
to old dusky-coat,to the swart raven,
with horny nib,and to the grey-coat,
the eagle white-tailed,the prey to enjoy,
to the greedy war-hawk,and the grey beast,
the wolf in the weald.Was not more slaughter
in this islandever till now
of folk cut downbefore this time
by swords’ edgesas the books tell us,
and ancient wise men,since from east hitherwards
Angles and Saxonsup to land came,
over broad oceans,Britain they sought,
proud smiths of warthe Welsh overcame,
earls eager for famethey won this country.