Uncovering Lady Godiva

by Octavia Randolph

The first of a two part article.  This month we look at the “real” Lady Godiva.

NO other early Englishwoman has been remembered as long, or as provocatively, as Lady Godiva. The name instantly conjures an image of a woman on horseback, clad only in her hair. Whether depicted in a 15th century print or gracing a modern chocolate box, Godiva lives – and rides – on in our imaginations.

Lady Godiva (1867) by P Pargetter for Minton Pottery.

 
Godiva is the latinised form of the Old English name Godgyfu or Godgifu (literally, "God's gift" or "good gift"). Godgyfu was an 11th century Anglo-Saxon aristocrat whose life spanned one of the most tumultuous periods in early English history. Despite her illustrious husband, renowned piety, and religious benefactions, without the tantalising legend of her ride through the Midlands town of Coventry she would likely be completely forgotten.

What is known of Godgyfu is found in the chronicles of various religious foundations, mentions of her or her husband in charters, and the post-Conquest compilation known as the Domesday Book. The first positive record of her is in 1035, when she was already married to Leofric, Earl of Mercia. Her birth date is unknown. Similarly, the date of her ride through Coventry cannot be known, possibly it was linked to the dedication of the Priory she and Leofric built there in 1043.

Here I must also acknowledge that despite records dating to the late 12th century concerning her ride, there are some modern scholars who doubt that it ever took place. I am persuaded that it did.

To return to fact: Like other Anglo-Saxon women of her class, Godgyfu owned property in her own right, both given to her by her parents and acquired through other means - gifts from her husband, inheritance from relatives, and purchases and exchanges from individuals and religious foundations. The modest farming village of Coventry was one of them. The Domesday Book lists it, twenty years after her death, as having sixty-nine families.

It is not known why Godgyfu and Leofric turned their attention to Coventry, which after all, was a small and seemingly unremarkable farming community. As early as 1024 Bishop Æthelnoth (later to be Archbishop of Canterbury) gave to Leofric a priceless relic, the arm of St.Augustine of Hippo, which had been purchased by the bishop in Rome and which he apparently indicated was intended – we do not know why – for Coventry.

The response of Leofric and Godgyfu was to create a suitable sanctuary to house this exceptional relic. The lavishly decorated Benedictine Priory of St.Mary, St.Osburgh, and All Saints was dedicated by Archbishop of Canterbury Eadsige in 1043, on property owned by Godgyfu. Within was a shrine to St. Osburgh (a local holy woman who had earlier founded a nunnery in Coventry) which held her head encased in copper and gold. St.Augustine's arm took its place in a special shrine, and Godgyfu and Leofric also presented to the new Priory many ornaments of gold, silver and precious stones, so that it was famed for its richness. Leofric further endowed the Priory with estates in Warwickshire, Gloucestershire, Leicestershire, Northamptonshire, and Worcestershire.

Their religious endowments were many, restoring, enriching, or founding houses in Much Wenlock, Worcester, Evesham, Chester, Leominster, and Stow in Lincolnshire. This last, the Priory Church of St. Mary's Stow-in-Lindsey, is of particular interest as a significant portion of the beautiful and impressive extant church there issued from their hands. The earliest stonework in the church dates from 955; Godgyfu and Leofric greatly endowed and enriched it from 1053-55. The lofty crossing features four soaring rounded Saxon arches (which now enclose later pointed Norman arches built within the original Saxon arches). A 10th or 11th century graffito of an oared ship is scratched into the base of one of the Saxon arches, possibly a memento from a Danish raider who sailed up the nearby Trent.

The north transept houses a narrow, deep Saxon doorway of honey-coloured stone, which would originally have been lime-washed and over-painted with decorative designs. It likely led to a chapel in Godgyfu's day, and surely she passed through this very arch. To experience St. Mary's Stow, built just ten years after the dedication of the Coventry church, is to begin to imagine what the Priory Church of St. Mary, St Osburgh, and All Saints may have been like.

St. Mary's Stow-in-Lindsey, a 10th c church endowed by Godgyfu and Leofric in the mid-11th c. Note the three windows in the transept, shown below from the interior.

St. Mary's Stow-in-Lindsey.
Three windows, three ages.
The circular window is Saxon;
the very narrow round-headed
one beneath it is Norman; the larger
pointed one later Medieval.

St. Mary's Stow-in-Lindsey.
The crossing. The later, pointed Norman
arches were actually built within
the larger rounded Saxon ones.

St. Mary's Stow-in-Lindsey.
North transept. Narrow Saxon doorway
with your author inserted for scale.

St. Mary's Stow-in-Lindsey.
Ancient stone steps to tower.
Photos by Jonathan Gilman.

Leofric was a man of considerable talent and statesmanship; no man could survive forty years as Earl without these qualities. Elevated to Earl (a title and position new to the English, replacing and expanding the Anglo-Saxon ealdorman) in 1017 by the Dane Cnut, he survived and thrived through Cnut's reign. Then followed that of Harold Harefoot (1035-1040), in whose selection as successor to Cnut Leofric was instrumental. Hardacnut, Cnut's other son, reigned next (1040-1042), and then began Edward the Confessor's rule (1042-1066).

Unsurprisingly for his age, Leofric could alternate between great rapacity and great piety, his depredations and subsequent generous benefactions upon the town of Worcester being a case in point. In 1041, when Hardacnut was king, two of his tax collectors were murdered by an angry and over-taxed group of Worcester citizens.

 An act of this nature, upon the direct representatives of the king, was seen as almost an assault upon the king’s body itself. In reprisal Hardacnut ordered Leofric to lay waste to Worcester, which Leofric did with complete and horrifying efficiency, made perhaps even more reprehensible as Worcester was the cathedral city of his own people. Afterwards (and seemingly as personal reparation) Leofric bestowed many gifts of treasure and lands upon the religious foundation there, enough to ensure that his memory would be revered and not reviled.

He seems to have been successful in this. Near the end of his life Leofric experienced four religious visions which were carefully recorded by the monks at Worcester and published after his death in 1057. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle entry for 1057 noted, "...In this same year, on 30 October, Earl Leofric passed away. He was very wise in all matters, both religious and secular, that benefited all this nation. He was buried at Coventry, and his son Ælfgar succeeded to his authority..." (G.N. Garmonsway translation).

Following his death, Godgyfu made additional gifts to the religious foundation at Worcester to aid in the repose of Leofric's soul and for the benefit of her own. These gifts included altar frontals, wall hangings, bench covers, candlesticks, and a Bible, and joined a long list of items and estates the two had granted to Worcester in the years prior to Leofric's death.

Leofric and Godgyfu had one known child, the above-mentioned Ælfgar, who died in 1062. His daughter Ealdgyth was wed briefly first to a Welsh king and following his death, to Harold Godwineson, killed by William of Normandy's men on the field at Hastings. Thus for nine months Godgyfu was grandmother to the queen of England.

Godgyfu died in 1067, the year following Hastings. At her death she was one of the four or five richest women in England with estates valued at £160 of silver. Her lands were then forfeit to new king William.

Godgyfu was buried next to her husband in the Priory church in Coventry they had created. According to chronicler William of Malmesbury, her dying act was characteristically pious: as a final gift to the Priory, she ordered hung about the neck of a statue of the Virgin Mary her personal rosary of precious stones. (The church was alas, destroyed like so many others during the Reformation, the treasures looted and dispersed.)

Now that we have taken a look at the historical record concerning Godiva, next month we’ll examine the literary legend of her famous ride.

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My short story about Lady Godiva, Ride, was published in Narrative Magazine, and has just been translated and published in Russia in The Translator. Ride is my attempt to re-frame her act in light of the realities of 11th century Anglo-Saxon law and social and religious custom. It is also my tribute to the efforts of women everywhere who seek peace over their own personal comfort.

Octavia Randolph is also author of The Circle of Ceridwen Trilogy, and Book One is available free all day July 24th and 25th. Please claim your copy! Click here for Amazon USA and click here for Amazon UK.

Aesop's Fables and the Bayeux Tapestry

By Rosanne E. Lortz

A Crow having stolen a bit of cheese, perched in a tree and held it in her beak. A Fox, seeing this, longed to possess the cheese himself, and by a wily stratagem succeeded. "How handsome is the Crow," he exclaimed, in the beauty of her shape and in the fairness of her complexion! Oh, if her voice were only equal to her beauty, she would deservedly be considered the Queen of Birds!" This he said deceitfully; but the Crow, anxious to refute the reflection cast upon her voice, set up a loud caw and dropped the cheese. The Fox quickly picked it up, and thus addressed the Crow: "My good Crow, your voice is right enough, but your wit is wanting.”  

This fable, attributed to the Ancient Greek slave Aesop, appears pictorially three different times in the margins of the Bayeux Tapestry. Other fables, also from Aesop, show up as well, leading historians to pose an interesting question: Why were they included? Are they merely decoration? Or are they commentary on the larger narrative of the Tapestry itself?

The Bayeux Tapestry is an embroidered cloth over 70 meters long that tells the story of the Norman Conquest of England. The Tapestry begins with the depiction of Harold Godwinson, Earl of Wessex, journeying to Normandy. There he is taken captive by the Normans and brought to Duke William, to whom he swears some kind of oath, most probably an oath pledging his support to William in the matter of the English succession. The Tapestry goes on to show Harold sailing back to England and becoming king himself after Edward the Confessor’s death. Duke William then launches an invasion, defeats and kills Harold, and takes the crown.

"Where Harold made an oath to Duke William"

The origins of the Bayeux Tapestry are debated by historians. Most agree that it was commissioned by a Norman in the decades following the Conquest (since it seems to tell the version of events as given by Norman historians like William of Poitiers and William of Jumieges). But the jury is out on whether it was commissioned by the Conqueror’s wife Matilda, the Conqueror’s brother Odo, or someone else entirely. There is also healthy discussion on whether it was created in the French town of Bayeux or embroidered somewhere in England.

One segment of thought believes that the Tapestry, although commissioned by a Norman, was embroidered by the conquered Anglo-Saxons, and thus has a subversive subtext stitched into its borders. The fables and their interpretation play a key part in this fascinating theory. While I do not have time to look at each fable in depth, I want to show you how the embroiderers’ use of “The Fox and the Crow” bears out this idea of an Anglo-Saxon subtext rebelliously commenting on the larger narrative. 

In the story of “The Fox and the Crow”, we see a strong animal taking advantage of a weak one. The fox uses guile to trick the foolish crow into giving up the coveted piece of cheese. The moral of the fable, “Flatterers are not to be trusted,” leads the reader to identify with the unfortunate crow as the hero of the story. The Fox, although clever, is still the villain of the piece. The cheese was never rightfully his—it was something that he stole through deceit. 

First Appearance of "The Fox and the Crow"

There are several pictorial clues in the Tapestry linking the Crow to Harold and the Fox to William. The first time the fable appears, it is beneath the scene where Harold is setting sail for Normandy. The Crow is on the left, and the Fox on the right. If the Crow is symbolizing Harold, then this is exactly what we would expect since in the historical narrative Harold is leaving England on the left, journeying toward Normandy and William on the right. 

The cheese has already dropped from the Crow’s mouth and is halfway between the Crow and the Fox. What does this indicate? Perhaps that Harold, just by setting sail has as good as lost the prize. Or perhaps it is a foreshadowing of what is to come. 

The Second Appearance of "The Fox and the Crow"

The second instance of this fable occurs after Harold has been captured by Guy of Ponthieu and brought to William. It is shown beneath the scene where Harold is accompanying William to the Breton war. In this picture of the fable, the cheese is already in the Fox’s mouth.  Harold, now in William’s clutches, has already lost the prize. 

The Third Appearance of "The Fox and the Crow"

The third instance of the fable comes in the upper margin just as Harold has left Normandy to return to England. The arrangement of the Fox and the Crow in this third version of the fable is interesting. The Fox (which we have already established as William) is on the left, in the direction of the Normandy that Harold has just left. The Crow is on the right, in the direction of Harold’s voyage. The historian David Bernstein notes that the Fox and the Crow are “no longer in the same compartment.” They are “separated by a panel, a spatial composition similar to that of William and Harold below,” for Harold has just put the sea between William and himself.  

In a strange twist, the Crow now has the cheese in her mouth. You will recall that in the two previous showings of this fable, the cheese was either in midair, or firmly in the clutches of the Fox. Escaping from Normandy unscathed, Harold has regained his prize for a time by putting a watery barrier between William and himself. 

Throughout this story, the cheese in question is a symbol of the throne of England. Harold has it. William wants it. And somehow, through trickery, William will contrive to get it. Harold may have been as foolish as the flattered bird to travel to Normandy in the first place, but it is only because William is as rapacious and guileful as a Fox that Harold’s cheese is in any danger. (See my earlier post on what William was like Before He Was the Conqueror).

The clever use of Aesop’s Fables in the Bayeux Tapestry—of which “The Fox and the Crow” is just one example—provides us with an even greater appreciation for the makers of the Tapestry. Were they members of the oppressed Anglo-Saxon race, trying to hint at their own perception of events, even while they stitched out the story their conquerors demanded? The use of the Fables hints that such a subtext could be possible, and though the evidence might not be enough to make an unqualified historical claim, it could be enough to inspire the story for another historical novel. 

I've noticed that a couple novels have been released recently featuring the Bayeux Tapestry. I haven't had the chance to read them yet, but when I do, I'm curious to find out if Aesop's Fables get a mention....


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Rosanne E. Lortz is the author of I Serve: A Novel of the Black Prince, a historical adventure/romance set during the Hundred Years' War, and Road from the West: Book I of the Chronicles of Tancred, the beginning of a trilogy which takes place during the First Crusade.

You can learn more about Rosanne's books at her Official Author Website where she also blogs about writing, mothering, and things historical.

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BIBLIOGRAPHY


Aesop’s Fables.  Trans. Rev. George Fyler Townsend [on-line collection]. Available from http://www.pacificnet.net/~johnr/aesop/. 

Bernstein, David J. The Mystery of the Bayeux Tapestry. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1986.

Bridgeford, Andrew. 1066: The Hidden History of the Bayeux Tapestry. London: Harper Perennial, 2004.

Wilson, David M. The Bayeux Tapestry. New York: Thames & Hudson, Inc. 1985.

William Before He Was the Conqueror

By Rosanne E. Lortz

He was born William the Bastard, illegitimate son of Duke Robert of Normandy, but history knows him as William the Conqueror, first Norman king of England and compiler of the Domesday Book. Many historians focus on the year 1066 and the legitimacy of William’s claim to the English crown. But how did an illegitimate boy across the Channel become powerful enough to make that claim in the first place? What did he accomplish before he invaded England? What did he win before the Battle of Hastings?

France during the eleventh century was not a unified country as it was in the earlier Carolingian period or in the later Middle Ages. It was split up into lots of little areas, which I will call counties—not because they were anything like modern day counties, but because they were typically ruled by a count. Some of Normandy’s most important neighbors were Brittany, Maine, Flanders, Anjou, Blois, and Burgundy. And let us not forget the most important neighbor of all: the Isle of France, where the Capetian king Henry I had his court. (TimeRef has an excellent map that shows where each of these counties were situated in relation to Normandy.)

The first duke of Normandy, Rollo the Viking, had sworn a reluctant fealty to the king of France (a very droll story that would take too long to tell here), but there is some question as to whether the duchy of Normandy, during William’s time, was still considered a vassal of the French king.

When William’s father Robert died in 1035, on the return trip from a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, his only son and heir was seven years old. Robert had never taken the trouble to marry Herleva, William’s mother, but he had also never taken the trouble to marry anyone else, so there were no legitimate sons to dispute William’s claim to the dukedom of Normandy.

In the age of robber barons, a seven-year-old duke was hardly able to rule his demesne with the requisite strength of arm. William’s childhood was marked at times by fighting between his various guardians and at other times by outright anarchy. But through it all, the boy was learning, and when he came of age he took steps to teach not only Normandy but also the lands around him to fear and honor his iron sword and iron will.

William as portrayed in
The Bayeux Tapestry

William of Poitiers (yes, we’re talking about a different William now) was a Norman chronicler who provides one of the most thorough pictures of Duke William’s early exploits. This chronicler was one of the duke’s biggest fans, and also proposed his own version of the just war theory: whatever Duke William did was just fine.

In 1043, when the duke was about fifteen years of age, his neighbor Geoffrey Martel, the Count of Anjou, was having a spat with another neighbor, the Count of Blois. In the process, the Count of Anjou accidentally captured Alencon, one of the Norman castles. William didn’t think it was an accident. He took back Alcenon and chased off the Count of Anjou, making a bitter enemy in the process.

Guy of Burgundy presented the next problem. Realizing that Normandy was quite a nice vacation spot, Guy began to subvert various Norman barons in an attempt to take over the dukedom. William got wise to the situation and marched out to fight Guy. This was the Battle of Val-es-Dunes in 1047. In this battle, William had the support of King Henry (who had not yet developed his later fear and hatred of the Norman duke), and with this help, William carried the day and defeated Guy.

A couple years after this, William formed a marriage alliance with the mighty Baldwin of Flanders by marrying his daughter Matilda. The county of Flanders was one of the more significant territories in France, and William’s connection with Baldwin increased both his power and his prestige.

There are many interesting legends about William and his bride. Later sources record that when William asked for Matilda’s hand in marriage, she refused on the grounds of his illegitimacy. She was too high born to marry a bastard. Undeterred, William rode to her father’s domains, grabbed her by her braids, threw her to the floor, and beat her until she changed her mind. Whether the story is true or not, it indicates how William was perceived by posterity—a man who would stop at nothing in order to get his way.

William of Arques was the next French nobleman to test William’s mettle. Unhappy with his feudal obligations to Normandy, Arques renounced his vassalship and began to pillage Norman territory. Incensed by these depredations, William drove the brigand back into his castle and besieged him until he was forced to surrender. With these actions William made it abundantly clear that vassals of Normandy were not allowed to renounce their obligations.

At this point, King Henry decided William was getting too powerful and too cocksure. The chronicler from Poitiers writes thus:

The king bore it ill and considered it an affront very greatly to be avenged, that while he had the [Holy] Roman emperor as a friend and ally…and while he presided over many powerful provinces of which lords and rulers commanded troops in his army, Count William was neither his friend nor his vassal, but his enemy; and that Normandy, which had been under the kings of the Franks from the earliest times, had now been raised almost to a kingdom. None of the more prominent counts, however great their aspirations, had dared anything of this sort. 

Henry I of France

King Henry realized that he needed to put William in his place before it was too late. What he didn’t realize was that he had already delayed too long. Supported by Theobald of Blois, William of Aquitaine, and Geoffrey Martel of Anjou, King Henry attacked William in 1054 at the Battle of Mortemer. Even these combined powers could not crush the might of Normandy. William drove their armies from the field, taking many prisoners. With victory achieved, William showed how insolent he could be. In the middle of the night, he sent a herald to King Henry’s camp, instructing him to climb the tallest tree and there declaim in full detail the sad news of Henry’s defeat. It wasn’t the happiest thing for the king to wake up to.

Because of this defeat, Henry was forced to make concessions to William. The chief concession was this: that William could do anything he wanted to Geoffrey Martel, Count of Anjou, without fear of reprisal from the king. Extremely pleased by this green light, William began to construct a castle in the region of Maine. This county was under the governance of Geoffrey of Maine, but (in the complicated web of feudal relationships) owed homage to Geoffrey Martel of Anjou. Maine sent Martel an urgent cry for help.

Martel, joined by William of Aquitaine and Eudo of Brittany, began to attack the stonemasons at the castle site. William, who had been expecting some resistance, soon arrived with his formidable army and put the counts' collective forces to flight. Then, in the words of the chronicler, William “turned his attack against Geoffrey of Mayenne [Maine]…and in a very short time he reduced him to the point of coming into the heart of Normandy, to put his conquered hands into William’s own, swearing the fealty which a vassal owes his lord.” In this way he stole the county of Maine from Anjou and extended the reach of Normandy.

With one last burst of energy, King Henry gathered another army against William. (Geoffrey Martel, who didn’t know when to cry uncle, was part of it.) This led to the Battle of Varaville in August, 1057. As you probably expected, William defeated Henry who “realized in consternation that it would be madness to attack Normandy further.”

King Henry I died three years later, in August of 1060, and was soon accompanied into the afterlife by Geoffrey Martel of Anjou. Philip I assumed the throne in France, but by this time the lesson had been well learned: don’t mess with Normandy.

When Edward the Confessor died in 1066, the Duke William of Normandy who laid claim to the throne of England was far more than some petty nobleman across the Channel. He was a man who had risen through the force of his will and his arm, maintained and increased the lands left to him by his father, and proven himself the equal (or superior?) of the King of France.

Scene from Bayeux Tapestry showing William's preparations to invade England

The character that William displayed during his rise in Normandy would continue during his reign in England. His new subjects found him a harsh master in many things, and the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle records that he was “severe beyond measure to those who withstood his will.” When he forbade hunting in the king’s forest,

The rich complained and the poor murmured, but he was so sturdy that he took no notice of them; they must will all that the king willed, if they would live, or keep their lands….

The Battle of Hastings may be the one that we remember William for, but it was all the battles before Hastings that paved the way for his victory. And while we call him the Conqueror for his exploits in England, the eleventh century counts and kings of France had good reason to call him by that name as well, a nickname born not from affection, but from the bitterness of the vanquished.

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Rosanne E. Lortz is the author of I Serve: A Novel of the Black Prince, a historical adventure/romance set during the Hundred Years' War, and Road from the West: Book I of the Chronicles of Tancred, the beginning of a trilogy which takes place during the First Crusade.

You can learn more about Rosanne's books at her Official Author Website where she also blogs about writing, mothering, and things historical.

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BIBLIOGRAPHY

"Medieval Sourcebook: The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle: Assessment of William I." Fordham University. From the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, sub anno 1086, as it appears in F. A. Ogg, A Source Book of Medieval History (New York, 1907). 

William of Poitiers. The Gesta Guillelmi of William of Poitiers. Trans. Marjorie Chibnall. USA: Oxford University Press, 1998.