The Battle of Maldon 991

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You can read and listen to the Old English text here.

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THE BATTLE OF MALDON
Anonymous

Anno 991. In this year came Anlaf with ninety-three ships to Folkestone, and harried outside, and sailed thence to Sandwich, and thence to Ipswich, overrunning the countryside, and so on to Maldon. (On 10 August) Ealdorman Byrhtnoth came to meet them with his levies and fought them…

—from The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle (Parker)

At his will the company dismounted, drove
horses back, the way forward
cleared of second thoughts, now
shield-skills, war temper met steady looks

All this the kinsman saw, for the retainer
Eadric the duty his lord expected, his pet hawk
standing cloudward, stooped
to woods beyond—the boy
looked once, stepped then to blood business

Sword-strife kindles clans, the weak grip
marking shirkers—Eadric’s held

The ash grain iron-tipped, no slack
and the vows made good a boast
the Earldoman saw and trusted, should
shield planks buckle under blows
if then the fight

The lord Byrhtnoth focused hearts
with many shields made one
by his counsel—the battle folk
trimmed tactics, took courage
in their neighbour standing ready

The Earl rode by, knew the day
and its requirements—the shield’s boss
shone, its face leather ancestors knew, so too
this guard, and Byrhtnoth walked
the company, his hearth companions

Then to shore a raider, bold
words to the household, such menace
made message, throat-threats all knew
told the loud errand, those pirates’ pledge

These wave-treaders, whose reach
is the sea’s reach, order my word, making
ransom rings, tribute gold
and peace will hold—your treasure is truce
to make it so, take these terms
and your chief consider coin of your kind

Avoid blood-blows, spear-rain

Our law is slaughter, but consider
fair currency for your lives
and we to the next tide, our ship
to the sea’s will, with this exchange

Byrhtnoth raised circle shield, spear
of ash, shook both
in anger, past the middle ground

Brigand, witness I speak
for this folk, their halls sounding
as one voice against you

Our tribute here—the long lance
and war gear’s brandished edges

Here is profit poison pays

Rogue’s herald, discover this resolve

Return word, this war band binds bravely
this realm of Aethelred, our king

Here, heathens earn blood dues

This is our way, that no English riches
pass easy to your hold, our terms
in war-trial first, then let survivors say
…

On the Earl’s sign, the clan raised shields
at stations on the flats, a tide between
shield line and pirates, pressing
to edge-water, all waiting
tide-turn of the Blackwater
pacing each, no man lost
except the arrow’s reach—sea-scavengers
and Essex spears, both the shafts found

Away from this bow-sprint
death the houses held, blade pommel
banging shield—Vikings eager
for blood match, clamoured
for sea shift, and to war

The Northman first to the bridge
fell before Wulfstan, Ceola’s son
who stood to the Earl’s orders
at the causeway—fearless
in that family, he knew
hard combat, flung spear
of Frankish oak, that met
the crowding braggart

With Wulfstan, two swordsmen
Aelfhere and Maccus, shoulders
steadfast at the ford, taught
the sea wolves the crossing’s cost

The land spit a blade’s width
staunchly held to weapons’ rules

The seamen stood by, saw
firm skills against them, brooded briefly
on their slain—the bridge guards
wary, heard cunning pleas
of subterfuge, crafted
soldier to soldier, to fairly stand
infantry across the bloody strand

Byrhtnoth saw terms
in that higher ground, but not sand
shifting, and called them
to advance to shore, a clearing
through the marsh, and hasten
killing that proves the field

With that, the tide was breached
…

To the west bank, came
the fleet’s men, murder-minded

A fist of swords and linden shields
and Byrhtnoth waiting there
called round the kin, to set
the battle-hedge against the strangers
and be resolute in glory
for all are fated, and the day would tell

A cold cry in the air, blood-wrung
war noise, and cries of ravens circling
and file-hard spears, falling
found the ranks, split shield-staves

Bows quickened, arrow-arc bit
war-rush, and fighters
sank, corpses in cold shoals

The Earl’s own nephew fell
where butchers hacked and gutted
but the prince’s chamberlain, Edward
taught Vikings death fealty

His blade halved a war-wolf
where he stood, and Bryhtnoth
and the kinsmen gave thanks
when breath allowed, eager
the thane’s industry be told

The clan line held, as Byrhtnoth
made purpose of their will
and each resolved wearð
in stone fastness—air-shock
and javelins sailed, slaying
Danes, and the Earl’s word
kept faith, with the house
believing the hero’s way

Then a challenger advanced
and Bryhtnoth strapped
sword-harness, met
the harm-bringer, each intent

The raider’s quick spear rang
against the shield—the prince’s stance
served, and the shaft burst

The Earl let prowess service rage
and sank his lance, and turned it
through the neck, so fell fate’s man
to the Earl’s next blow, that rent
chain mail and the dog’s heart

The Earl laughed, his own wounds
less in that exchange
and spoke bravely of the day’s work
in the Lord’s will, weapons
the true path, blood-waders
giving mood to the company
thankful for their prince’s life
and the war-test all pursued

Then a sea-soldier, seasoned in harm
hurled his spear, caught
fully Aethelred’s retainer
and the deep dart sudden, true

Close by the Earl, the boy
Wulfmaer, Wulfstan’s son
seized the moment, and from the prince
removed the lance, black
with burst arteries, returned it hard
and skewered its skulking keeper

But another, in armour and bold
with the prince’s wounds, moved
to strip the Earl’s war-harness, his rings
and jewel-worked sword—Byrhtnoth

drew the broad bright blade
making to maul mail-coat

Another Dane rushed on, sliced
through muscle strings, loosed the arm

The forged razor fell, gold hilt
among grasses, the Earl too weak
to wield, still, he rallied hearth-kin
saying to them, glory was a weather
never waiting, so advance

Grey beard blood-caked, he sank
as life leaked out, his gaze skyward

I look to my condition, Lord
grateful for feast, and time in the world’s ways

Bringer of Fate, now I ask
such ease for my ghost
as your will allows, soul’s journey
safe in your salvation

Your peace, unmeasured
far from hell-fiends

Then, heathen swordsmen closed
and killed, and Wulfmaer
and Aelfnoth close by defending
kept close in death, the three together
…

Fear found the others, the field
quit first by Odda’s sons

Godric turned his loyalty
in Byrhtnoth’s gifts
of stallions, pretty bloodstock
reining round, the Earl’s own mount
clung upstart, its trappings away

With him Godwin and Godwig
his noble brothers, recovering their horses
wheeled from the fight, craving deep woods
beyond the slaughter-pen

And more fled than can be faced
in this report, who made stand
at council that same dawn, and took
the gifts the Earl gave freely—broad estates
and bright weapons, and swore
blood to Aethelred’s liege-man
and kinsmen, cold now

But others held, sought
the shield line, the day
for choices, death or vengeance
for their hearth-chief, all
the company there, eager
in war-pledge, for this reckoning

And among them there, Aelfwin
Aelfric’s son, ox-prime bold
recalled where courage lay

In halls, deep in feast
we raised hard boasts of hero-work
and war ways, the henchman’s path

Now the craw sticks, we stay and stand

From Mercia, the ancient house
of Ealhhelm my ancestor
I came, and could return without slight
to wealth, kindred ranks
from causes others lost
now Byrhtnoth’s fallen
at this fyrde, its bloodied grasses

Yet grief is here, my slain lord
no less my lord, and kinsman now

Then he found the hot feud
and took his target square
where pirates pressed, his spear
pitched, a Dane heart-split

Offa joined, in his high office
second only to the Earl

Aelfwin, we commend you
in your words, this war allegiance
binds and betters, and none
more needful of it
now our folk’s defender’s lost

This spear-grip proves our cause, mark
this forge-child, edged for Danes
…

Too many thought the coward, Godric
marked the Earl’s own flight
where chance allowed escape

The army saw, let shield wall fail
divided in that treachery

Then another, Leofsunu
shoulder to shield stave
gave patriot vows, that there
was fate fixed, and there
hold to killing
and revenge, while life held

This estuary’s war-kin
my lord remembered
with his gifts, and much the hall heard
of future deeds—I fight now, oak-rooted
brother iron-point in service

And Dunnere, a farmhand
in the ranks, shook plain lance
and took his place in battle-fold
then shoreward to the company, spoke

For Byrhtnoth, our blood and purpose

And ferocious to Vikings
they took brutal war
each, to his duty
and steel-clash shook the air
…

Among them, the Northumbrian
Ashferth, the warrior Edgeleave’s son
and Byrhtnoth’s treaty hostage
sent bow-darts steady
into heathen shield and Dane
as life held, so the clan saw
his loyal reaping

There too, Eadweard se langa
cut through linden boards
and Vikings knew his long reach
without quarter, deadly
in their midst, his oath kept
to cut and kill for his lord’s life
until seafarers swarmed, felling

And Aetheric’s noble bearing
was glimpsed in blood-spree

Sigebyrht’s brother, and many others
waded cutting to curved shields

Shield rims burst, and blades
to body armour sang hell-songs

In red combat a sea-soldier
Offa faced, slumped dead to earth
before Offa too was hewn, remembering
to his ring-giver his sworn word
that together to their settlements
fate would see them home
or else by wound-waste
on pitch of corpses the day turn

Now near the Earl, in faith he lay

At Offa’s last breath, shield wall
shattered, under Danes’ war-rage
…

Spear sought soul-house, and Wistan
Thurstan’s son, sprang
to sea-wolf thicket, served sword to three
before lastly in those numbers, lost to slayers

A fierce gathering was gauged
and all those standing
bore starkly, wounds death-weighted

Eadwold, and Oswold his brother
kinsmen of that company
held bravely that ground, calling
to others in those skills
sharply met, that they endure

Then Byrhtwold, long years
in fealty to the Earl, raised shield board
and shook lathed lance, commanded

This greater purpose drives the heart

Valiant days a valiant folk—breathless now
our prince, this good man
blades grounded—war-play calls
and fled ranks shall grieve their turning

Here is my allegiance, forged
with patriots, a long life
ended with my lord’s

To Vikings, folk sent
slaughter-spears, to blood-roads
scattered foremost, and all knew the day
and strife of kinsmen, named
in that company the slayers spent

…the perished…

Estill Pollock was born in Kentucky, and has lived in England for more than forty years. A pamphlet, Metaphysical Graffiti, was published in England by Highcliff Press in the 1990s, followed by Constructing the Human, a major collection from Poetry Salzburg in 2001. Between 2005-2011 the book cycle Relic Environments Trilogy was published by Cinnamon Press (Wales). A collaboration with Broadstone Books in Kentucky provided the impetus for his recent poetry collections, Entropy, Time Signatures, Ark and Heathen Anthems, with a further collection, Parse Poetica, planned for 2025. The e-chapbooks And Then and Working Title are published by Mudlark.

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