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| Gentlemen of the Saxon and Viking Reenactment Society of East Anglia |
Sometime in the early 400s, C. E., we can imagine Romans
living in places like Londinium, Eboracum or Mancunium (London, York or
Manchester) in Provincia Brittania, taking
note of the arrival of Saxons and Angles and Jutes from across the Oceanus
Germanicus (North Sea).
Whether these were invaders or simply folks looking for some
greener pastures is actually still a contested issue, believe it or not. In any case, they had come to stay and a Roman-controlled
Celtic (Briton) Britain gave way to a Germanic Britain. To complicate matters, the Britons gave their name to Brittany in
France, which some of them fled to. The Celts
retreated to Ireland, Wales, Cornwall and Scotland.
Those who didn’t stay and make babies with the new occupiers of Germanic
Britain, that is. From the Angles, we
get the name of England and the English language, although at the time, locals
pretty much referred to all three groups as “Saxons.” To this day, the Scottish Gaelic name for
England is Sasainn, and the people of England are Sassunach. In Ireland, it’s Sasana and Sasanach,
respectively.*
By the time the Vikings began raiding Britain, a few
centuries later, the Saxons had become a distinct race of people. I’m using “race” in the social-cultural sense,
the way Hispanics use “La Raza”. Genetically,
of course, they were still the same people as the Vikings now come to bop them
on the head and take their things.
Linguistically, too, the two groups probably had a large degree of
mutual intelligibility, kind of like German and Dutch, Spanish and
Portuguese, or Russian and Polish.
If you grow up with an interest in English history, you know
of King Alfred the Great. Have always
loved his name. If you know German, you
know that “Rat” (old spelling: Rath) means council. Rathaus,
I learned as a kid, is not a house for rats, but rather “council house,” the
German word for “city hall.” “Red” is just another Germanic variation on “rath,” and has taken on the
meaning of “wise man.” Alfred was small
in stature, evidently (I’m guessing), and probably suffered from Crohn’s
disease, and that may have made him a tad bookish. In any case, he was known as “the wise elf.”
But I digress. I was
getting to the BBC television series known as The Last Kingdom, which I have just finished binge-watching. The
Last Kingdom refers to Alfred’s kingdom.
At some point, the Vikings, or “Danes” (just as Angles and Jutes were
subsumed under Saxons, Norwegians were subsumed, as well, this time under “the
Danes.”) had landed in East Anglia and pretty much occupied three of the
English kingdoms – Northumberland in the North, Mercia in the Center, East
Anglia in the East. Only the West Saxon
(i.e., Wessex) kingdom remained in Saxon hands under Alfred. Map is available here.
Now imagine the drama you can squeeze out of this
history. Imagine a boy from up North, in
Northumberland, say, in the year 866 and follow his life for ten years or so. Let’s call the boy Uhtred (he too, please note, can also be “wise”), using a real
character from later years, but stick him into this time period and make a hero
out of him. Have his father, the
original Uhtred, killed by an invading Dane, an earl named Ragnar, and have Uhtred
the younger enslaved and raised by the Danes.
Great material for some pre-modern identity politics – Dane vs. Saxon,
fun-loving marauder vs. pious Christian, outsider vs. insider.
Bernard Cornwell, a prolific writer of historical novels,
has written a series he calls The Saxon
Stories. The first couple of these novels
was the basis for The Last Kingdom, an
eight-part television series produced by BBC and aired in October of last
year. The story I’ve sketched out is the
TV version, not Cornwell’s original. The screenwriters have tinkered with
Cornwell’s details, one has to assume, for dramatic effect. It caught my eye when Netflix announced it
was available for streaming in the United States and in Britain. A second series is in production and expected
to air later in this year. Plot summary is available here.
Uhtred develops a strong affectional relationship with Earl Ragnar,
his Danish father, despite the fact it was Ragnar who killed his Saxon father, and
struggles over whether to define himself as Saxon or Dane. Uhtred is driven by two overriding desires:
the Saxon in him leads him to seek the help of Alfred to regain his rightful
place as ealdorman (think “duke” – the Latin translation is “dux”) of
Bebbanburg (today’s Bamburgh) in the North.
The Dane in him burns with loyalty to his Danish brother, Ragnar “the
fearless”, together with whom he hopes to avenge the death of their Danish father, Ragnar
the Elder. Throw in a bunch of other life
companions – Brita, a Saxon girl taken at the same time as Uhtred as a slave by
the Danes; Thyra, Earl Ragnar’s daughter (and therefore sister to Ragnar junior
and to Uhtred, as well); Kjartan, Ragnar’s shipbuilder, and Kjartan’s son Sven,
a thoroughly despicable sort and a couple of Superman-type other Danish
kings/generals (there’s no difference in this day and age) like Guthrum and
Ubba, and you’ve got yourself a TV series that goes and goes and goes. I believe the customary adjective for such
productions is “rollicking.” It doesn’t
hurt that Uhtred, Ragnar, Guthrum and Ubba are all actual historic figures.
I’ve only skimmed the surface of the characters in this
saga. Uhtred’s love interests are
notable. So too are the efforts of the
priests who play a role in stressing the main cultural distinction between the
Danes and the Saxons. The Danes are
disparaged as “pagans,” and given to partying hard in the here and now; the Saxons
are handicapped by needing to be guided by an external code of behavior
including self-denial (mis?)taken for virtue – and no small amount of
hypocrisy. Uhtred, although baptized as
a child, rejects Christianity, yet is the model of a man whose word is
sacred. In contrast to Skorpa, for
example, the quintessential Viking marauder, a cruel, deceitful and sadistic
barbarian.
It’s these contrasts that make the characters so lively. The endless clashing of swords gets tiresome,
and the violence is pretty graphic. So
is the wretchedness of life in the first half of the first millenium at a time
of endless war, the mud, the pigs and the chickens who invade your living space
when you can get them, the diet of vegetable broth when you cannot. Apparently there is no way to keep your
fingernails clean.
Historically, of course, Alfred was known as “the Great”
because he eventually had considerable success in driving out the Danes, and
negotiating a peace with those who remained.
Guthrum converted to Christianity, for example, and Alfred is today
venerated by the Anglican Church as a Christian hero with his own feast day,
October 26. (The pope wouldn’t canonize
him, but this is probably the next-best thing).
It’s not giving the plot away, I hope, to tell you the story of Alfred’s
accomplishments are not central – the main character of The Last Kingdom is Uhtred, after all. And this season stops short of telling you
whether Uhtred made it home to achieve his goal of reclaiming Bebbanburg. Nonetheless, the yearning for home is
palpable, and gives the story a driving force.
Inevitable, I suppose, with history-for-television is historical inaccuracy and ambiguity. What parts of the story correspond to actual
historical events – Alfred’s grand stand at the battle of Edington in 878, for
example, where the combined forces of the Saxons under Alfred defeat Guthrum
and the “Great Heathen Army” – and what parts are fictionalized are not always
evident. Nor do they matter, of course,
to most people, I suspect, who will watch the story for its romance and its
adventure, and see historical reality as little more than icing on the cake.
The acting is excellent.
It helps that the series has a whole host of experienced talented
actors, many of them familiar faces, including Matthew Macfadyen, who plays a
cameo role at the beginning as Uhtred Senior, and the noted Dutch actor Rutger
Hauer, who plays Ravn, the father of Earl Ragnar (also a minor role). The lead role of Uhtred is played by German
actor, Alexander Dreymon (born Alexander Doetsch), who grew up in France,
Switzerland, Germany and the United States and speaks English with a British accent in real life, for some reason.
Several Swedish actors are involved, including Thomas Gabrielsson, who
plays Guthrum and Jonas Malmsjรถ,
who plays a terrifying Skorpa. Actual
Viking actors, in other words. And let’s
not forget Rune Temte, the Norwegian actor who plays the other Viking warlord
Ubba. Brilliant idea, don’t you think,
getting modern-day descendants of Saxons to play Saxons and descendants of
Vikings to play Vikings? The role of another Saxon-turned-Dane Brida, Uhtred’s
fellow slave, and first love, is played by Austrian actress Emily Cox. Mildrith, Uhtred’s (Saxon) wife, is played by
British actress, Amy Wren. Other
notables are the Shakespearean actor David Dawson as Alfred and Adrian Bower,
also British, plays Leofric, Uhtred’s loyal friend he is forced to engage in a
battle to the death with.
The production was filmed in Hungary, for
affordability. Since there are no
structures still standing from those days, entire villages – including the town
of Winchester – had to be built from scratch.
Great detail was given to costuming, getting the homespun just right, and other details right down to
face-painting. A minor liberty was taken with the wooden
shields. They were modified in shape so
you can distinguish between the opposing armies.
Jolly good history.
It will send you to Wikipedia to read up on the Danelaw. Or maybe cause you to reflect on the notion
of immigration to Britain. First Romans
moving in on the Celts/Britons, then Saxons, then Danes, then Britons from
France in 1066 whose ancestors were Celts. Some sort of cosmic justice, maybe,
watching the Celts-turned-French now getting control of their land back. And, of course, in the end, nobody actually displaces
anybody. Mostly they all hop into bed and make new races of folk every so often.
Tell the history by means of giant blonde men with face
tattoos busting in and looking for the family silver and you’ve got a rollicking
good binge-watch in store. Keep your Netflix streaming current. Positively
rollicking.
*Note that while in Britain “Saxon” (to the Celts) means English, on the continent it means
German. The Finnish word for Germany is Saksa.
In Estonian, it’s Saksamaa. The Romani (Gypsies) call Germans Ssassitko temm.
**Here it’s the Danes who have tattooed faces and bodies. It’s worth noting, I think, that the word “Briton” seems to have originated from the Greek Prittanoi, their word for the Celts, from the Celtic word to cut or carve, i.e. tattoo.
photo credit: Please note that none of the folks in this photo have anything to do with the TV series, The Last Kingdom, as far as I know. But I'll wager they've stopped frolicking on the beach at Norfolk long enough to rollick with the rest of us.
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