BRITAIN FIGHTS BACK

Alfred the Great makes a stand against the Viking horde
AD 870–918

Against England the Jarl urged his banner; Oft his war band blooded the hawk-beak; Fire shrank the halls as the folk ran, Flame ravaged, smoke reared, reeking skyward.

—Arnor Jarlaskald, Viking skald

WITH THE GREAT HEATHEN ARMY of Viking marauders ruthlessly ravaging the English countryside, the ultimate salvation of the land rested on the sword arm of one young prince: a hero who was destined to save his people and his kingdom from ultimate destruction at the bloody hands of the Norsemen. A man with the strength, ingenuity, dedication, and intelligence to stand tall against the Viking horde. A man who would engage them at their own game and turn the tables with a ferocious determination they hadn’t experienced since the days of Charlemagne.

When he was born, he was fifth in line to the throne of the kingdom of Wessex. By the time he died, he would be the only English ruler to be known by the epithet “the Great.”

Born in Wantage, Berkshire, Alfred was a prince of Wessex, a kingdom in the south of England. When the Great Heathen Army attacked, he was just sixteen years old, but he was the strongest and most capable military commander his kingdom had to offer. Leading troops in the name of his only surviving brother, King Ethelred of Wessex, Alfred rallied the peasant militias to stand against the onslaught of the Great Heathen Army.

Commanding from the front and personally crashing into Viking formations at the head of his vaunted “household cavalry,” the young prince engaged the Vikings in no fewer than seven full-scale battles during the year 871 alone. In most of these battles, his unarmored, spear-wielding peasant militias took a beating at the hands of the Vikings, but every time he was defeated, Alfred managed to withdraw with his army intact, reposition them to block the Viking advance, and hit the invaders again, continually wearing them down. Finally, at the Battle of Ashdown, Alfred caught the Viking warrior Halfdan’s forces unaware and led a charge that crippled his army, killing five Danish jarls and a minor Viking king with an unpronounceable name (Bagsecg). The battle sent the Great Heathen Army reeling, and without the manpower to replenish its ranks, Halfdan accepted an offer of cash to get out of Wessex and leave Alfred alone.

Three months after the victory at Ashdown, King Ethelred died, and the crown passed to young Alfred.

Alfred barely had time to move his stuff into the palace before the Vikings were up to their old tricks. In 875, eager to grab more land for himself and his followers, a Viking warrior named Guthrum (who hadn’t been in on all that “please leave us alone” money Alfred had paid Halfdan) assembled an army, snuck his warriors past Alfred’s forts and watchtowers, put together a fleet to attack by sea, and launched a mega-full-scale raid to destroy the kingdom of Wessex once and for all. Caught off guard, Alfred raced to face Guthrum, but his forces were crushed and he barely escaped the battle with his life by turning his horse and sprinting out of there in a very unkingly fashion. Most of his subjects believed their king had either fallen in battle or deserted them as a coward.

Running for his life, King Alfred of Wessex fled into the swamps and marshes of Somerset with only a handful of his most trusted bodyguards. Beyond the swamps, Guthrum ravaged the countryside with impunity, pillaging, plundering, and torching Alfred’s loyal subjects without mercy. Hopeless towns and villages submitted to the Vikings without a fight and had their populations sold into slavery for their troubles.

Things had gotten bad. One story claims that Alfred sought refuge in the home of an old peasant woman who lived in a little hut in the middle of the Somerset swamp, and that the woman, not knowing she was addressing her rightful king, said that in exchange for lodging he had to keep an eye on the oven while she was cooking some cakes and pies. Alfred, probably a little preoccupied with the Viking invasion, forgot to do this, and the old lady yelled at him for letting her cakes burn.

Not exactly a high point in the life of King Alfred the Great. But don’t think for a second that this guy was about to just roll over and call it quits. He was going to fight until his dying day.

In 876, King Alfred of Wessex emerged from the swamps, walked to the nearest city, and headed straight to the town square. Pulling out his best royal pump-up speech, he told the people that he was their king and that any man who wanted to defend his home, his kingdom, and his family from ultimate destruction at the hands of bloodthirsty Viking raiders should rally to their king and prepare for the fight of their lives.

From Somerset, Wiltshire, Hampshire, and all across Wessex, ordinary peasant farmers, mercenaries, fishermen, hunters, and other regular guys grabbed the spears, axes, pitchforks, and shovels out of their garages and marched to join their king.

At the Battle of Edington in 878, King Alfred the Great approached Guthrum’s ever-triumphant Viking horde at the head of an army of twenty-five hundred peasant citizen-soldiers ready to defend their land or die trying. The Viking army assembled their shield wall, preparing for a slaughter. The men of Wessex met them with a ferocity that can only come from men defending their families and their way of life.

All Alfred’s chronicler has to say on the subject is that the king “overthrew the pagans with great slaughter, and, smiting the fugitives, he pursued them.”