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Chapter 1 : Discovery of the Saxon woman’s grave
March 2015, Northern Fields of Great Chesterford, Essex.
Alfred watched over Uhtred’s shoulder as he delicately retrieved the small artefact from beneath the earth, next to the buried warrior’s clavicle bones. Uhtred held it up to the sunlight and breathed sharply.
“This looks like a piece of jewellery.”
Alfred came closer, feeling his heartbeat quicken. The object was covered in rock and sediment. A faint glow emerged from two red garnets embedded in the artefact. The intricately designed piece and its placement inside the warrior’s grave indicated this belonged to an important person in Anglo-Saxon society.
“Uhtred, you have a gift.”
“The gift of annoying you?”
“Not that one. But yes.”
He found it very uncommon, how a man like him could be so reckless and inattentive to instructions in class, and yet so very perceptive in the field. As soon as they had arrived, Uhtred had set to work inside the trench and dug for an impressively long time, barely stopping for breaks. He worked like a man possessed with purpose. Alfred himself had barely slept a wink in the days before their first excavation. As a historian, he felt that this was what it had all been leading up to, his first real encounter with the Saxons.
His part in the excavation had been more cerebral in nature. Drawing maps, devising field strategies and emitting hypotheses, that sort of thing. This rather suited him. He had never been any good at physical activities and often began to feel nauseous and out of breath in the act of digging. Instead, he found himself staring at Uhtred, as the low evening sun bathed his broad shoulders and agile movements in a warm light. Thor’s hammer, which hung from a string around his neck, caught Alfred’s eye.
He had known the man for a short while since beginning his studies in York, where Roman and Medieval history permeated every inch of the city. He was struck by how much Uhtred looked like a figment of that past with his wild mane of dark hair and full warrior’s beard. In a certain light, his hardened frame seemed made to build kingdoms. However, the striking effect of his physique was often counteracted by the profane nonsense that came out of his mouth. He was a person who both fascinated and frustrated Alfred terribly.
“What have you got there?” Hild’s beaming voice snapped him out of it.
“The warrior appears to have been of some importance”, Alfred began.
“He was buried with this thing. Maybe a pendant?”, Uhtred continued.
He placed the object in Hild’s outstretched hands. She handled it with the care and lovestruck awe that archaeologists experience when they discover a piece that will find its place in the labyrinthine puzzle of History.
“That is a brooch. And the warrior is a she, it seems. The shape of her sciatic notch and her bones strongly indicate this. A very tall female warrior buried with a sword and a valuable piece of jewellery. This is the dig that keeps on giving.”
Something tickled at the edge of Alfred’s consciousness. He was sure he had seen that same brooch before. It would take years before those puzzle pieces came together.
The excavation lasted well into March. The young archaeologists worked under the sun in the cold East Anglian weather, their sweat mixing with the different layers of soil and their knees chafing from the bracing wind. Uhtred and Hild went drinking with a cheerful group of geophysicists at the old Pub down the road, while Alfred retreated to his hotel room to study. Despite the thin walls and musty smells, he filled it with books and worked by candlelight, making the place his own.
Three weeks of finding human remains, pieces of metal and pottery came to an end, and the University of York invited its students to fill out their exam papers. Alfred missed the feeling that came with waking up before dawn and not knowing what hidden treasures the earth concealed. He missed Hild showing him an ancient person’s teeth and raving about it as if it were the source of all human knowledge. He also missed Uhtred’s arrogant smile when his wild theories paid off. Of course, Alfred would never tell a soul, and certainly not Uhtred.
June 2015, Post Excavation and Archive Lab, University of York
After the excavation, the Saxon woman’s grave goods were sent to the lab. Alfred and Hild were received warmly by the research team in their local facilities and told to wait for Dr. Susan Hutton, the university’s top medieval researcher. Hild tapped her pen and notepad impatiently, producing an amused look from Alfred.
“You seem rather excited.”
“Well, it’s not every day we get to examine artefacts we lifted out of the ground with our own hands,” Hild stated simply.
“Yes, I agree.”
It was all the more strange that Uhtred hadn’t come. As a matter of fact, it had been weeks since he had been seen on campus. He had missed several important classes which would determine the outcome of their studies.
“Have you heard from Uhtred?”
The question, coming from Hild, landed like a soft blow to the stomach.
“I haven’t tried to get in touch”.
That was a lie.
Hild knew Alfred’s evasive expressions almost as well as her first biology textbook. Alfred had been a difficult person to get to know, and her memory of their first meeting was of him asking her some highly specific question about Anglo-Saxon burials with no greeting or preamble. He was passionate about his work and spared no time for much else.
“You know, there’s nothing wrong with being worried about him. I am too.”
Alfred said nothing but opened a page of his notebook and pretended to read. A few minutes passed before he said another word.
“And how is Rasha ?”, he finally said.
“She’s well. Spending a few days with her family in Brighton.”
She hadn’t expected him to mention the strikingly clever girl from her Ancient Biomolecules class who had recently caught her eye and caused her grades to take a slight dip. She had only mentioned her to Alfred in passing.
“So you do pay attention when I tell you things,” she laughed gently.
“I always pay attention, Hild.”
He turned to look at her and Hild felt herself warming at the sincerity of his expression. If friendship with Alfred had been difficult to attain, it was all the more meaningful. This had become known to her in the last few months they had toiled away together, working late hours in the library and out in the fields. Building a career for themselves in a world that felt like a very fragile bubble, one that could burst as soon as you realised how delicate it all was. She knew that she would follow Alfred to the ends of the earth if he ever asked.
In another life, when she had left the hospital where she worked as a nurse, she had been unable to imagine a future for herself. After several years of healing at a Benedictine monastery, she decided to pursue a career in bioarchaeology. It became clear that her only path in life would be sustained on passion and human remains.
“Are you my Anglo Saxon specialists ?”
A sharp-eyed woman greeted them cheerfully. She was of small stature but her voice immediately filled the room with confidence.
“Yes, although specialist might be a little over-complimentary,” Alfred replied, standing up with immediate interest.
“Speak for yourself, I accept that compliment gladly”, laughed Hild.
Professor Hutton wasted no time showing them the lay of the lab. She treated them like colleagues, enquiring after their opinions and answering questions before they had even thought to ask them. First, they visited the osteoarchaeology department (otherwise known as the Bone Lab). Several research students were gathered around a long table with the Anglo Saxon woman’s bones carefully arranged in a skeleton shape.
“She’s turning out to be a bit of a mystery, isn’t she ?”, Professor Hutton winked at her colleague supervising the whole operation.
The department housed over 400 skeletons, including 278 medieval monks from St James Abbey and five other skeletons from the cemetery they had excavated. The Saxon woman’s grave was a unique find.
The cemetery where they had found her seemed to be from the late Anglo Saxon period, based on evidence such as radiocarbon dating and the Christian style of burials. She was estimated to be exceptionally tall, had been injured in combat based on several broken bones. Skull sutures and teeth showed that she was around the age of fifty when she died.
Alfred noticed Hild looking perplexed.
“Are you thinking the same thing as I am?”
“Why was she buried with grave goods? The sword and brooch seem out of place for the Christian time period.”
“And that is the least of our concerns,” declared Professor Hutton, who seemed more delighted than concerned.
This led them straight to the subject of the sword. Most of the organic part had rotted away in the ground for centuries, leaving nothing but the upper part of a rusty tang. It was Uhtred who had found it, which was now his proudest boast at most parties and pub gatherings. He had already examined the sword in extraordinary detail and had told them a whole story about how it would have been made and used in battle.
“It’s like the Abingdon Sword,” Uhtred had told Alfred matter-of-factly on the coach back to York. Most other passengers had fallen asleep in their seats. “It will have been made with iron and precious silver for a person of some reputation. They weren’t made for just anyone, so its owner must have been glorious in battle.”
“That’s lovely, Uhtred. I believe our ancestors would see glory in the digging of holes to find pieces of ancient pottery as well.”
The post-excavation research confirmed that the sword had indeed been pattern-welded with strips of wrought iron and metal. The hilt itself was gone, but pieces of the hilt skeleton remained and revealed intricate geometric shapes. The hilt plates and rivets reflected the late Anglo-Saxon age, being made of heavier and more solid metal, including silver inlaid with niello.
"And finally, the brooch,” Professor Hutton sang tantalisingly. “Now that was most surprising.”
The brooch had three lobes with a central boss, which earned it the title of “trilobite brooch”. Silver-plated and covered in animal shapes, it revealed some peculiar features. Two ravens with inlaid garnet eyes looked up from the two lower ends, while the higher end featured what looked like a spear.
“We believe that those two ravens are Odin’s messengers, and that spear is Gungnir,” the Professor exclaimed.
“But that would make this a Viking brooch,” Alfred shook his head. “In an Anglo-Saxon cemetery. Buried in a Saxon woman’s grave.”
“Perhaps this would indicate those two cultures were not as separate as it may seem,” Hild said.
“Correct,” the Professor continued. “This woman may have interacted in some way with the Vikings, or even could have had familial ties.”
Alfred now recalled where he had seen the brooch before. It had been at an exhibition of the Viking Age at the York museum. It had been exactly the same, a three-pronged silver brooch with two ravens carved into it inlaid with garnet eyes. If it was the same brooch, how did it end up in two different locations ? Was the second person to be buried with the brooch a relative of the Saxon woman ?
By the end of the day, she left them with some parting words.
“Curious, isn’t it, the things we know about this woman who lived centuries ago ? We know that she lived in the time of King Aethelstan’s reign, that she died in battle at the age of fifty, and we can guess at her connections with the Vikings. When we analyse her skeleton, we might be able to imagine what she looked like.”
She paused for effect, letting their minds form a mental image of the tall Saxon woman, sword in hand, smiling at the enemy confidently.
“So here’s a thrilling question. When archaeologists dig up our bones centuries from now, what do you think they will find?”
Considering how much that question haunted Alfred at night, he imagined that the professor didn’t fully comprehend the meaning of the word “thrilling”.
September 2025, Train from York to King’s Cross (London) – connection to Winchester
Alfred gazed at the passing fields through the train window. The sun was beginning to set on a long and tiresome day. The woman sitting next to him was snoring softly underneath her coat. He could see her phone screen playing a film, seemingly the one with elves and that odd creature Gollum. He remembered watching those films with his daughter Aethelflaed after she had raved to him about the incredible battle scenes and scenery. She also had a fondness for acting out scenes in real time, out-performing the characters on screen and accidentally breaking a wine glass which had left a permanent stain on the living room carpet.
He was looking forward to sharing all the details of his research with her when he arrived in Winchester. It had been a year since he had been offered this temporary position as Professor of Archaeology at the University of York, the place where his career had begun. His permanent workplace was in Winchester, where he had been conducting research for eight years. He had gladly accepted the position when it was revealed that he would have the chance to translate authentic monastic texts dating back to the late Anglo Saxon period. The distance from his family had been a trial to overcome, despite his wife Aelswith’s assurances that he had made the right choice.
He deeply regretted it had taken such a long time for his research to amount to something. His fragile health had been hovering over him like a shadow since as long as he could remember, and was confirmed by a recent visit to his local clinic. This was another topic he was afraid to discuss with Aelswith. He could not lay that burden on her when there was so much unsaid between them.
He reminded himself that while he was in transit, there was still work to be done. Focusing his attention on his own laptop screen, he read the scanned copies of a manuscript. Alfred liked to examine the colourful drawings. Some portrayed ordinary people selling wares in the marketplace, others were more outlandish, including a majestic angelic figure smiting demons whose decapitated heads flew across the page. The Monk Odwulf seemed to have had true artistic ambitions.
The manuscript had been found in York Minster, where it had been preserved for ages since its presumed creation in 10th century Jorvik. It recorded the daily lives of its people and the Christian teachings of the church under the archbishop of York, when the city was freed from Viking rule and England was formed for the very first time. The time was of particular interest to Alfred, who had dedicated his life to learning more about the troubled beginnings of England. He was tasked with translating the Latin parts into modern English, which allowed him to read to his heart’s content.
Alfred had made the switch from his London train to Winchester and was well into the last quarter of his journey when he came across something that made his mind stutter. The manuscript told of a particular event which had produced a strong impression on the lives of people living in Jorvik and created chaos in the midst of English and Danish forces reconciling.
Apparently, a woman who happened to be a priest’s daughter had caused a stir when she had fought a violent battle against a Danish invader. She became known as Beornia, The Wolf of Jorvik.