The real history behind “Blood of the Bear”, my final Fire Born Viking novel
The fifth and final book in my Fire Born Viking series, Blood of the Bear, has been out now for a month, so I thought I’d publish the Historical Note that always accompanies my historical novels. While Bjarki Bloodhand and Tor Hildarsdottir are fictional characters, many of the other people who feature prominently in the novel – such as Widukind of Westphalia, the leader of the Saxon rebels – are taken from history. And of course Charlemagne’s draconian changes to the law in Saxony, which sparked the rebellion, and the great battle in the Süntel Hills, which is the climax of the book, are genuine historical events. Anyway, there may be SPOILERS below, but if you are interested in the historical background to Blood of the Bear, and the other books in the Fire Born series, read on . . .
Widukind of Westphalia is a historical character. And while I have made him out to be a vain, self-serving, even treacherous villain in this novel, a man who is happy to sacrifice his friends and compatriots to advance his own interests, I think the real man was probably rather a heroic individual, and certainly he remains something of a folk hero in Germany today, a similar figure in stature to our own Robin Hood.
Time and again, Widukind raised the Saxons in rebellion against the Franks, defending their pagan way of life against more powerful, and far better organised invaders, who sought to convert his people to Christianity at the point of the sword.
He was a Saxon aristocrat, probably called Theodoric, and the name Widukind, clearly a nom de guerre, means “Child of the Woods”, which is a kenning for wolf. This is why he is referred to as the Saxon Wolf in this and previous novels. His nickname probably came about because he made good military use of the thick forests of homeland, in which wolves and bears still abounded. His tactics were those common in asymmetrical warfare: ambushes, hit-and-run raids and, most of the time, a strict avoidance of full-pitched battle (the victory at the Süntel Hills was a rare exception). As well as possessing many military virtues, he must have been extremely charismatic: he persuaded his people to fight and die for his cause, when it must have seemed doomed, again and again, so I have imagined him as a great orator, a Winston Churchill, if you like, a dazzling public speaker.
In truth, I had to imagine a great deal about Widukind (see his statue above) because historical facts about him are scant. He appears a few times in the Royal Frankish Annals (RFA), one of the few historical sources for the period, as a leader of the rebel Saxons and one who for many years refused to submit to Charlemagne (Karolus in these novels). Jarls Brun and Hessi, incidentally, are also named in the RFA as leaders of the Saxon rebels from, respectively, Angria and Eastphalia, and they both submitted to the Franks a decade before the Saxon Wolf. Widukind, we are told, often sought refuge with King Sigfrid (Siegfried) of the Dane-Mark, who was his staunch ally. Indeed, it seems Widukind was constantly popping in and out of the Dane-Mark. His modus operandi was to go south into Saxony, raise a rebellion, attack Frankish fortresses, slaughter the occupying troops, cause havoc then, when things got too hot for him, flee back into the the Dane-Mark, safely beyond the reach of Charlemagne’s vengeance.
I believe Widukind fully deserves his place in the pantheon of outlaw heroes. However, his life as a wanted man and hero-on-the-run came to an ignominious end in 785AD, when he finally surrendered to Charlemagne and was baptised a Christian at the church in Attigny – a town now in northeast France – along with his loyal follower Abbo or Abbi (Abbio in my novels). I should admit here that there is no evidence that Abbio was a creepy sorcerer who wielded seithr, although the North European pagans did practice “magic” routinely and skulls from the Viking era have been found with the teeth filed into points.
Strangely, it was Widukind’s conversion to Christianity that made me decide to depict him as a villain. When writing historical fiction, you are obliged follow the history whenever possible and, since we know Widukind was baptised at Christmas in 785AD, I felt I had to work this truth into my story. But I had a problem. In my fiction, Widukind is advocating endless heroic resistance to the Franks one day, and historically, the next day, he is submitting meekly to baptism. How could I explain this volte face? I tried to imagine what the Saxon Wolf would desire most of all in his heart of hearts – apart from the liberation of his homeland, of course, which did not happen. I decided the Saxon Wolf would probably want what any deposed aristocrat desperately wants – the full restoration of his lands and titles.
Since it was Charlemagne’s policy to reward the Saxon rebel lords who submitted to him by appointing them as his regional counts (comes) and restoring them to their fiefs under his authority, the ending I came up with seemed entirely reasonable. There is even a suggestion in a biography of Saint Ludger, a missionary to the Saxons, that Widukind was appointed to a high administrative role in Saxony after his conversion, which helped persuade me to shape the ending as I did.
I also suspect that Widukind fought the Franks all those years partly out of a desire to regain his “rightful” aristocratic place in the world. He tried to liberate Saxony from them many, many times – and failed. So, at his wits’ end, he agreed to convert to the faith of his enemies to achieve that ambition.
The battle of the Süntel Hills
The Saxon victory in the Süntel Hills, near the Hohenstein, about eight miles north of modern-day Hamelin, was Widukind’s greatest triumph. Indeed, it was the only major victory the Saxons enjoyed over their far more powerful enemies in more than thirty years of warfare. The site of the battle, chosen with great care by Widukind, is as I have described it – a long spur of high land with steep, almost impassible slopes to the north, south and west. At the western end is the Hohenstein rock formation, now a local beauty spot (see picture below, taken from the south). The only possible avenue of attack was from the east through the thick forest, which made the perfect cover for an ambush. Widukind relied on the arrogance and over-confidence of Adalgis, Charlemagne’s chamberlain and the commander of his heavy cavalry. Also present were two other cavalry commanders, Gallo, the Count of the Stables and Worad, the Count of the Palace. (Bishop Livinus is an invented character based, like Father Alwin, on the many English missionaries who came over to Francia and tried to convert the pagan Saxons to the True Faith.)
Widukind lured the Frankish heavy cavalry into an unsupported attack on his formed infantry. He deliberately brought his men out of the make-shift fortress they had constructed near the Hohenstein to tempt the foolhardy cabellarii under Adalgis into attacking him. Adalgis was killed, as was Gallo – and Worad only saved himself by fleeing the battlefield. The RFA says this: “The loss to the Franks was greater than numbers alone, however, for two of the legates, Adalgis and Gallo, four counts and as many as twenty other men of distinction and nobility were killed, as well as others who were in their followings and chose to die at their sides rather than survive them.”
It should be noted that the Royal Frankish Annals were written by Christian monks and Charlemagne was their patron, so they can hardly be considered impartial. What is clear though from the RFA entry, is that the defeat of thousands of highly trained Frankish heavy cavalry troops by a ragtag army of rebel infantry was a serious humiliation for Charlemagne. And the description of loyal Frankish followers nobly dying beside their commanders is, I think, an early attempt by the RFA at spinning some very bad news indeed.
The massacre at Verden
It is very difficult to say how many people took part in a historical battle or event. Actually, it is extremely hard to establish numbers of people who participate a mass actions even in the 21st century. In my journalist days, I remember reporting on a large pro-Taliban demonstration in Peshawar, northwest Pakistan, in late 2000, just after the 9/11 terrorist attack on the Twin Towers. I ran alongside the huge crowds of Afghans and Pakistanis trying to get comments and arrange impromptu interviews with their leaders. Afterwards I conferred with fellow foreign correspondents, and we tried to estimate exactly how many people had taken part in that day’s demo. Our guesses ranged from two to ten thousand; one French guy suggested fifty thousand.
The point is, it is very difficult to tell. The RFA says that at Verden, after the surrender of large numbers of rebel Saxons to Charlemagne, 4,500 Saxon warriors were summarily beheaded as a warning to the others. “ . . . the Lord King Charles rushed to the place with all the Franks that he could gather on short notice and advanced to where the Aller flows into the Weser [ie, at Verden]. Then all the Saxons came together again, submitted to the authority of the Lord King, and surrendered the evildoers who were chiefly responsible for this revolt to be put to death – four thousand and five hundred of them. This sentence was carried out. Widukind was not among them since he had fled to Nordmannia [the Dane-Mark]. When he had finished this business, the Lord King returned to Francia.”
The problem is, I don’t believe it. I don’t believe that more than four thousand Saxon warriors would allow themselves to be meekly beheaded like that. And think of the sheer, hard, physical labour involved in all that slaughter. Since the RFA, penned by Frankish monks, is our only source on the massacre at Verden in 782AD, I don’t think we have to accept the numbers involved as gospel (yes, pun intended).
Janet L. Nelson, author of the magisterial biography of Charlemagne, King and Emperor, writes, “ . . . the figure of 4,500 is suspiciously large, and its tidiness increases suspicion. It could well have resulted from a scribe mistakenly (or through deliberate inflation) adding a zero.” Clearly a terrible massacre took place at Verden, but I suspect only a few hundred people, perhaps about 450, were actually beheaded. Enough to send a strong message to anyone in Saxony who was tempted in future to defy Frankish hegemony. And the message was received in Saxony, loud and clear, because a period of relative peace followed this barbaric act of royal retribution.
The Saxon Capitularies
The Grand Assembly was not the unique event that I have suggested it to be. Frankish kings held these kinds of mass assemblies, sometimes called a Marchfeld, almost every year. They were originally held in March – hence the name – but later they took place in May, which is when my Grand Assembly took place at Lippspringe (At the “source of the River Lippe”, says the RFA.) All the King’s important vassals from across his empire were duly summoned to a chosen place and a great deal of military, legal, religious and administrative business was transacted over several days, perhaps even extending into weeks. I imagine it as a cross between a parliament, a music festival and a muster of regional troops, held before the campaigning season began.
Foreign delegations were invited to these great assemblies from the nations surrounding the Frankish lands, with both allies and potential enemies attending, and their ambassadors enjoying a golden opportunity to speak personally with the King. For example, at the assembly in 782AD, a delegation from the Avar Khaganate (in what is now Hungary) was received by Charlemagne. Since he was then making plans to invade their lands, it seems likely that they were trying to prevent this from happening. There was also a delegation at Lippspringe from the Dane-Mark, which was headed by a man called Halfdan, which means “half-Dane”. This is all we know about this historical character – that he headed the Danish delegation to the Grand Assembly in Lippspringe – and after that he disappears from history. But he must have been a high-ranking member of the Danish court, and a relative of King Sigfrid seems likely. His illegitimate son and heir seemed plausible to me.
The rebellion led by Widukind in 782AD was most likely sparked by the announcement by Charlemagne at Lippspringe of the raft of new laws – known as Capitularies from the Latin title of the document Capitulatio de partibus Saxoniae or the “Ordinances concerning Saxony” – pertaining to his newly conquered territory. And they were every bit as draconian as I have described in this novel. Indeed, I took some of them word for (translated) word and put them into Karolus’s mouth. For example, “If any one of the race of the Saxons hereafter concealed among them shall have wished to hide himself unbaptised, and shall have scorned to come to baptism and shall have wished to remain a pagan, let him be punished by death”.
From then on, to eat meat during Lent, to make an offering at a pagan shrine, to cremate your dead, to damage a church or injure a missionary, monk or priest in Saxony was punishable by death. Charlemagne had, in effect, made being a practising pagan a capital offence. Some historians also suggest that it may also have been an attempt at suppressing local identity – a way of turning bad Saxons into good Franks.
No wonder the Saxons rebelled, despite the overwhelming odds against them. And although this rebellion ultimately failed, and the punishment at Verden was severe, the pagans were not discouraged for good. The Saxon wars, which began in 772 continued smouldering away until 804. Indeed, Saxon smaller rebellions against their Frankish overlords continued even after the death of Charlemagne in 814.
However, Bjarki and Tor will play no further part in them. I have hugely enjoyed writing about my two fictional heroes over these past five Fire Born novels; they now feel like real people to me. Almost like members of my family. But, enough is enough, and it is time to turn the page on this chapter of my writing career and move on to the many other projects that now clamour for my attention. I hope you have enjoyed reading about their blood-soaked adventures as much as I have writing them. And May the Bear guard you, dear reader, wherever your journey takes you next.
You can order a copy of Blood of the Bear from Amazon, as a paperback, audio book or eBook. If you haven’t read any of the books in the series – although they they can all be read as standalone stories – you might prefer to start with The Last Berserker (Fire Born 1), which you can purchase here.