Murder at Corfe: King Edward the Martyr

DORSET, ENGLANDKINGS OF WESSEXKING EDWARD THE MARTYRSAINT EDWARD THE MARTYRCORFE CASTLECORFE, DORSET

3/18/20257 min read

‘Nor among the English was any worse deed ever done than this, since they first sought the land of Britain.’ The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle

Several decades ago, back when my brother and I were children and Corfe Castle was cheaper to visit, I recall getting a basic, probably photocopied, booklet on the history of Corfe. Somehow, only one part of that book sticks in my mind – the story of the murder of the young King Edward by his stepmother.

March 18 is the day designated in the Catholic and Orthodox calendars to remember Edward the Martyr, as he came to be known. What is the history of his brief reign, and how did he attain sainthood, you may ask? Politics, miracles, mysteries, and too many people whose names begin with ‘E’ abound in this dark tale of Dorset.* The following is my take, fashioned from various narratives, which sometimes contradict one another; I unashamedly picked the details that appealed as a writer of historical fiction.

Edward (ca. 962 – 978) was the eldest son of King Edgar (reigned 959–975) and Edgar’s first wife, Ethelfled. At the time of Edgar’s death, his third wife, Elfthryth (who, by the way, became queen after her first husband was murdered, some say at the orders of the smitten Edgar), wanted the throne to go to her son, Ethelred, who was about seven years old. As Edward had not been formally acknowledged as heir, both boys theoretically had a claim to the throne.

As both potential monarchs were still children, the dispute was carried out on their behalf by factions, who of course had their own agenda. One major division in England at this time concerned monastic reform. To explain this, we have to jump back a step. The boys’ father, King Edgar, had divided his realm over his support for the monastic reform movement, which, basically, sought to replace the secular, often married clergy who ran monasteries with devoted, celibate and contemplative monks, i.e. to revive Christian culture. However, in his zeal to establish solid religious houses, Edgar had forced nobles and secular clergy to surrender land or sell it at bargain prices to the monasteries. Needless to say, this was not popular, and thus, whoever became king would inherit an already divided kingdom.

Proponents of Edward’s later sainthood paint his claim as being led by a pro-monastic reform faction led by Dunstan, Archbishop of Canterbury and the magnate Ethelwine of East Anglia, while Ethelred was backed by the secular faction led by his mother, Queen Elfthryth and magnates such as Elthere. However, Ethelwold, Bishop of Winchester, was also a supporter of Ethelred, and he had particularly benefitted from the monastic reforms (Winchester was the ancient seat of the Kings of England). All in all, it seems that personal rather than religious motives prevailed in the dispute. Surprisingly, uprising and civil war was prevented when a deal was made: Edward was given the throne in 975 and his half-brother Ethelred was granted the lands traditionally bestowed upon the eldest son.

So, Edward began his short reign. Having strong clerical backing, he continued his father’s support of monastic reform and devolving power to the Church. Depending on which historians you trust, he was a violent, overbearing teenager or a young man held in high regard by those around him. But those who wanted their candidate on the throne probably didn’t care if he were a saint or devil. In either case, in practical terms, Edward was a boy king and therefore weak. The nobles took advantage of this to push back against the monastic reforms and reclaim their lands, mainly by legal action but sometimes by force, often coincidentally swallowing up land belonging to their rivals in the process.

That fateful day of March 18, Edward decided to visit his brother Ethelred at a Saxon stronghold near the site of what is now Corfe Castle (many accounts erroneously say Corfe Castle itself, which was not built then). He arrived in the evening with a small entourage. As he waited for formal admittance, as befitted a king, someone brought him out a drink: his stepmother, later accounts all say. As he leaned down to take the cup, someone stabbed him in the back. He tumbled from his terrified horse, his foot caught in the stirrup, and he was dragged into the night.

Sometime later, the horse was recovered riderless. Eventually, the body was discovered in the woods and hidden overnight in a cottage. However, during the night, the small home was filled with a bright light, and a blind old woman keeping watch regained her sight. In fear, the more vivid tales continue, the murderers buried the body in a peat bog near Wareham. Yet, once again, a mysterious light alerted the townspeople to the saintly king’s resting place. They dug up a body miraculously preserved (ahem, in a peat bog), and removed it for quiet burial in the town, on the east side of what is now Saint Mary’s church. After reports of lights and further miracles reached the court, permission was given for the young king to be buried in pomp in Shaftesbury Abbey, which had links to his family. The miracles continued, culminating, it is said, by his grave rising up from the ground, which was taken as a sign that his body should be accorded due reverence as a saint. By 1001, his tomb was formally a shrine.

For all the accounts we possess, believable or otherwise, we still do not know for certain who instigated Edward’s murder, exactly why they chose that moment, or even who was actually there in Corfe on that fateful evening. The contemporary Anglo Saxon Chronicle does not name names, although in the period immediately following, the wicked stepmother theory was universally accepted. Queen Elfthryth, by the way, is said to have later repented and entered monastic life herself. Her son Ethelred was likely too young to be plotting against his brother, and his enthusiastic support of his Edward’s sainthood seems to indicate a fondness for his half-brother. Another possible suspect was the nobleman Elfhere, one of the main actors in the revolt against the monastic movement. Some have taken his involvement in Edward’s later reburial as a display of penance for the murder. As to the timing, some speculate that the choice of Lent, a time when one is supposed to be practising disciplines that lead to holiness, not assassinations, was because the young king was planning to marry and thus possibly beget an heir, but he had to wait until Easter as marriage was not permitted during Lent.

I wrote in a previous blog that King Edward the Confessor, Edward the Martyr’s step-nephew, was the only English King to be canonised by the pope. This was not a mistake, although we have two saintly monarchs, as King Edward the Martyr was canonised in England by St Alphege of Canterbury. As to why he became revered, that, too is complex. Kings were considered anointed and appointed by God, and to many ordinary people, Edward’s murder was sacrilege. However, given how many kings or potential kings were offed in this period, I’m not sure that noble consciences ran that deep unless it was convenient. Nevertheless, he was young, unmarried (and thus actually or symbolically virginal), on the side of the Church, and God’s representative on earth. The thought of having a holy martyr king interceding for them in heaven against the harsh realities of an earthly kingdom must have offered hope and reassurance to people. And who knows, perhaps some of the reported miracles are true, and smaller prayers answered have gone unreported?

Edward’s shrine continued to attract pilgrims – so much so, that some sources tell us that for a while, Shaftesbury was renamed Edwardstowe. At the time of the Dissolution of the Monasteries, Edward’s bones were hidden (and Shaftsbury got its name back), to be later discovered in the ruins of the abbey in 1931. Today they reside in the Orthodox Church of St Edward the Martyr in Brookwood, Surrey. The story of the half century it took for the bones to gain an official resting place is also complex and coincidentally involves brothers with competing interests, but is beyond the scope of this blog post topic. I'll link to it below.

Miracle worker or not, Edward’s death set in motion events that changed the course of English history. His brother became King Ethelred the Unready, whose son Edward the Confessor became king after him, who named as his heir Harold Godwinson, whose alleged breaking of faith with William of Normandy led of course to the Battle of Hastings… and thus, to come full circle, to fortification of England that included the building of Corfe Castle, and to that little pamphlet that began a young girl’s fascination with a minor English king.

‘The earthly killers would have destroyed his memory on earth, but the high Avenger has in heaven and earth greatly increased his memory. Those who would not bow to his living body now humbly on their knees bow to his dead bones. Now we may understand that the wisdom of men, their plans and counsel, are as nothing against God’s purpose.’ The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle

*Technically, Æ , but I’m going with the simpler rendering. N.B. spellings of these names also varies.

Further reading:

If you want to explore further and draw your own conclusions, here are some places to start, but be aware, as I mentioned, that accounts sometimes contradict one another, or seem to have errors (such as implying that the murder took place at the present Corfe Castle).