Offa of Angeln

Genealogy of Mercia from the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle

Woden

Wihtlæg

Wærmund

Offa of Angeln

Angeltheow

Eomer

Icel

Cnebba

Cynewald

Creoda

Pybba

Penda (626–655)

Eowa (635–642)

Peada (655–656)

Wulfhere (658–675)

Æthelred I (675–704)

Cœnred (704–709)

Ceolred (709–716)

Æthelbald (716–757)

Beornred (757)

Offa (757–796)

Ecgfrith (796)

Cœnwulf (796–821)

Ceolwulf I (821–823)

Beornwulf (823–826)

Ludeca (826–827)

Wiglaf (827–829)

Ecgberht of Wessex (829–830)

Wiglaf (restored, 830–839)

Beorhtwulf (840–852)

Burgred (852–874)

Ceolwulf II (874–879)

Æthelred II, Lord of the Mercians (883–911)

Æthelflæd, Lady of the Mercians (911–918)

Ælfwynn, Lady of the Mercians (918)

Part I: Wærmund Grandson of Woden

The Angles were once a mighty people ruled over by a powerful king named Wærmund. A man of great fame, who built a great city which he named Wærwick, after himself. Wærmund was celebrated among his people for both his wise rule and his heroism in war.

However as number of years of his life grew great, the frailties that come of old age gradually befell him. Until one day at a grand old age, the darkness of blindness took away his sight.

Wærmund remained without children, except for one son. This son, named Offa, he regarded as the heir and successor of his kingdom, but for many years he was unable to appoint him as such, because the boy suffered from the grievous disadvantages of childish weaknesses. For although Offa was tall in stature, sound in body, and handsome in appearance, he remained from birth deprived of sight until the seventh year of his age. And he was also mute and never uttered human words. So was lacking in three things: sight, speech, and the expectation of his people.

The nobles of the kingdom bore this great inconvenience with more distress than can be said, and they frequently urged the king, when he was first approaching the weakness of old age, to establish another as heir and successor for himself. But Wærmund, trusting in fate and in the blood of his kin, refused, and waited with patience for what the gods might bring to pass.

Part II: The Saxons

News of Wærmund's frailty and blindness had spread to the ears of neighbouring peoples, among them Riganus, the proud and ambitious king of the Saxons. Riganus seeing that the kingdom of the Angles was without a strong leader sent ambassadors to Wærmund with an arrogant demand: that he should entrust the kingdom, which he was too old an weak to defend, to Riganus, otherwise through too long a rule he would fail his country in laws and arms. Riganus asked, how could a blind man be considered a king? When old age had darkened his mind and blindness had darkened his eyes with equal horror.

Riganus ambassador’s offered 3 choices, Wærmund, could forfeit his kingdom to Riganus peacefully, if Wærmund refused Riganus’ demand for his kingdom, and Wærmund had a champion who would dare to fight with Riganus’ own by way of challenge, he would allow the victor to possess the kingdom. Or if he approved neither alternative, he should understand that the matter must be dealt with by war, not words.

Hearing the ambassador’s words Wærmund, broken by deeper sighs, replied that he was being torn apart by the insolence of their reproach concerning his age. Old age had not brought him to this condition of misfortune because he had avoided battle or had spent his youth in cowardly fashion. Nor, he said, was it appropriate to reproach him so much for the defect of blindness, since such a loss commonly follows such a condition of old age; rather, one ought to feel sorrow for his misfortune than insult it. More justly, however, Riganus could be accused of impatience, since it would have been more fitting for him to await the fate of an old man than to demand his rule; for it was considerably better to succeed a dead man than to strip a living one. So that he should not appear, like a madman, to surrender the titles of his ancient liberty to foreign domination, he declared he himself would meet the Riganus in single combat.

To this the ambassadors replied that their king greatly dreaded the mockery of fighting with a blind man, since such a ridiculous kind of victory would be considered closer to disgrace than to honour. Rather, they said, the matter should more suitably be settled by the pledge and blood of both men and their sons.

At these words the Angles were struck dumb with astonishment, and, overwhelmed by the sudden difficulty of the reply, Offa, who happened to be present with the others, begged permission from his father to answer, as suddenly, from the mute, a voice came forth. When Wærmund asked who was requesting such an opportunity to speak, and his attendants said that it was Offa who was asking. Wærmund declared that it was bad enough that the arrogance of strangers should mock the wounds of his misfortune, without his own people also tormenting him with the same insolence of mockery. However he ordered: "Let him be free, whoever he is, to speak what he has in mind."

Then Offa took the word and said that Riganus was seeking the kingdom in vain, since it was supported both by the duty of its own ruler and by the arms and industry of its strongest nobles. Furthermore, there was neither a lack of a son for the king nor of a successor for the kingdom; and let them know that he had decided to engage in battle not only the son of their king, but also whoever among the bravest of their people they should bring with him. For he would prove to all that the Angles were not so feeble that they needed to yield their ancient liberties to the arrogance of the Saxons.

When the ambassadors heard this, they laughed, considering the boldness of his words to be empty. Without delay, however, the place for the battle was agreed, and a fixed limit of time was appointed for it. So great, indeed, was the astonishment which Offa's speech and challenge produced to those present, that it remained uncertain whether more admiration was given to his voice or to his confidence.

When the ambassadors had departed, Wærmund praised the unknown champion, because he had placed his confidence in his courage not in the challenge of one man but of two; and declared that he would rather surrender the kingdom to him, whoever he might be, than to his arrogant enemy. At this Offa presented himself to his father and revealed his identity. This time Wærmund believed him and declared his son could not now lose as the gods had condoned his actions with a miracle.

Thus the challenge was set, and all awaited the day of battle, when Offa would stand forth and defend the honour of the Angles.

Part III: The Sword Screp

After the ambassadors had departed, Wærmund, having testified that his son had made a proper judgement of everything, ordered him first to learn the use of arms, since he had been little accustomed to them. Armour was therefore brought forth for Offa, but by the great size of his chest he forced apart the narrow links of the coats of mail, and no armour could be found which could contain him within a proper measure of capacity. For he was larger in body than he could be in order to use another man's armour. At last, when he was also breaking his father's coat of mail by the violent compression of his body, Wærmund ordered it to be cut open on the left side and repaired with a clasp, considering it of little importance if the part protected by the shield were exposed to the sword.

He also ordered a sword to be sought for him with the greatest care, one which he could safely use. Several were offered. Offa grasped each hilt in his hand and, striking them apart one after another, broke them to pieces; nor was there any sword among them of such hardness that it did not fall apart into many pieces at the first movement of his blow.

Wærmund who had once possessed a sword of extraordinary sharpness, called Screp, which, with a single stroke of the one striking could penetrate through and split apart any kind of object in the middle; nor was anything so hard that it could have resisted its edge when driven into it. But, unwilling to leave it for his descendants to enjoy, through an extreme jealousy of another man's advantage, he had buried it deep underground, denying the usefulness of the iron to others because he had little confidence in his son's growth. When he was asked whether he possessed a piece of iron worthy of Offa's strength, he said that he did possess one which, if he could find it, after recognising the appearance of the place where he had formerly buried it, would prove suitable for the strength of his body.

He then ordered himself to be led into the field, and, having questioned his attendants about everything and discovered the place of burial from the signs they gave him, he drew the sword from its hiding-place and handed it to his son. Offa, seeing that it was fragile and worn away through extreme age, asked in doubt whether he ought also to test this one according to the example of the previous swords, declaring that the condition of the sword ought to be examined before anything was attempted with the weapon. Wærmund replied that if the present piece of iron were destroyed by Offa himself merely by swinging it, nothing would remain which could answer to the condition of his strength. Therefore, he said, they should refrain from an act whose outcome remained uncertain.

And so Offa took the ancient sword Screp, trusting in his own strength and in the judgment of his father, and prepared himself for the coming battle.

Part Iᚠ: The Duel

When the appointed day arrived, the Angle and Saxon armies gathered at the place that had been agreed upon. A river, the Eidorus, surrounded this place with such a circuit of waters that, because of the obstruction created by the intervening water, access was open only by boats. On both sides, crowds filled the various bends of the banks, eager to watch the outcome of the contest that would decide the fate of the Angle kingdom.

Offa went to the island alone, without a companion, trusting in his own strength and in the ancient sword Screp. The son of Riganus, the Saxon king, followed, accompanied by a champion of outstanding strength named Mitumnus, whom the Saxons had chosen as the most vigorous and loyal of their warriors. Thus the battle was set: two champions against one, for Riganus had demanded that Offa face not only his son but also whoever among the bravest of their people he should bring with him, and Offa had accepted without hesitation.

With everyone fixing their eyes upon this spectacle, Wærmund had himself led to the extreme end of the bridge, intending, if it should happen that his son were defeated, to perish in the river. For he preferred to accompany the destruction of his own blood rather than behold, with his whole heart filled with grief, the destruction of his country.

But Offa, attacked by the two young men together, avoided both their blows with his shield because of his lack of confidence in the sword Screp, which he feared might break under the force of his strength. He decided to wait patiently and determine which of the two he ought to guard against more carefully, so that he might at least strike that one with a single thrust of his sword. Wærmund, thinking that Offa displayed such endurance in receiving blows because of weakness, gradually moved towards the western edge of the bridge, desiring death; if it were all over with his son, he would seek his fate by throwing himself down. Such was the old man's burning love for his blood, yet fortune protected him.

Then Offa urged the king's son to fight with him more eagerly, ordering him to make the distinction of his noble birth equal to the conspicuous deed of courage which he himself should perform, lest a low-born companion should appear superior in virtue to one born of a king. Then, for the purpose of testing the champion's courage, he admonished him not to follow timidly behind his lord, but ordered him to repay, by outstanding deeds of combat, the confidence which the king's son had placed in him, since he had chosen him as his one companion in the battle.

The man obeyed and, compelled by shame to come closer to the fight, Offa cut him in two with the first stroke of his sword Screp, cleaving through his helmet and through the very marrow of his skull. At the sound of this, Wærmund was revived and said that he heard his son's sword. And he asked upon what particular part he had inflicted the blow. Then his attendants reported that he had not struck merely one part of the body, but had passed through the entire frame of the man. Wærmund drew his body back from the precipice and returned to the bridge, seeking life with the same eagerness with which he had desired death.

Then Offa, wishing to destroy the remaining enemy after the manner of the first, urged the king's son in vehement words to offer the slain companion as a sacrifice of vengeance on his behalf, as though paying funeral honour for the man who had been killed for him. He compelled him by his exhortation to come closer, carefully marked the place where the blow was to be struck, and, because he feared that the sword's thin blade might be unequal to his own strength, turned the other edge towards him and cut through his body with a penetrating stroke, so that the young Atheling fell dead upon the field.

When Wærmund heard this, he declared that the sound of the sword Screp had reached his ears for the second time. Then, when the witnesses affirmed that his son had destroyed both enemies, he released his face to tears through the excess of his joy. Thus the cheeks which grief had been unable to make wet were watered by happiness.

The Saxons, therefore, sorrowful with shame and leading away the bodies of their champions with the utmost bitterness of disgrace, were met by the Angles with joyful celebrations for Offa.

Part ᚠ: The Death of Riganus

Riganus himself, the proud king who had sought to usurp the Danish throne, seeing his son and his champion slain, attempted to flee across the river in terror. But the torrential stream, swollen with the blood of the slain, overwhelmed him; with the weight of his armour bearing him down, he was submerged to the depths and drowned, his wretched soul exhaling without a wound. From that day, the river was called Riganburne, so that the memory of his pride and his fate might live perpetually.

When Offa returned home with his father, the whole kingdom rejoiced. Wærmund, whose heart had been heavy with grief and fear, now overflowed with joy beyond measure. He embraced his son and declared that Offa was not only his heir but the very hope of the Anglian people. He spoke to him with tears of exultation, saying:

"Well done, sweetest son! With what affection, with what joy of mind, may I pursue your praises as is worthy? For you are my hope and the unexpected joy and exultation of my people. In you, unexpected hope has revived in my times. In your bosom my joy, indeed rather the hope of the whole kingdom, is placed. You are the foundation of the whole people. You, with the gods inspiring, are the base and stable foundation of my peace and liberty. To you is owed the ruin of that insolent traitor, Riganus, who strove to usurp what was mine by hereditary right. The gods of vengeance scattered his counsel. Him also Riganus, stiffening in pride, and the harsh Mitumnus, his comrade, with their army he cast into the most rapacious river. They descend as lead into the mighty waters. Your sword devoured our enemies, flashing and bloodied, with enemy blood magnificently inebriated. You are not degenerate, my noble son, but like your father, you follow the footsteps of your magnificent ancestors."

When Offa heard these words, he knelt before his father with bent knees and joined hands, his eyes overflowing with tears, and gave thanks freely for all that had been spoken.

Then Wærmund, though he had been blind and weak, declared that he would now yield the burden of rule. "Behold," he said, "I yield, and the kingdom of the Angles I henceforth commit to your will and judgment. For my age is fragile and now decrepit; the sceptre of the kingdom no longer suffices to sustain. Therefore, most desired son, it is fitting that you should take my place. My body, worn out by old age, until you close the eyes of the dying, may be given over to freer rest, so that freed from cares and worldly concerns, I may be free for prayers and contemplation."

Thus Wærmund, in the presence of all the nobles, invested Offa with the kingdom. The nobles, both great and small, did homage to him and swore fidelity to their new king with willing minds and rejoicing hearts. And so Offa, once mute and blind, now strong and victorious, took up the rule of the Angles.

Part ᚠI: Modþryð

Thus Offa, once mute and blind, now strong and victorious, took up the rule of the Angles. He was a king of such wisdom and valour that his fame spread throughout all the neighbouring lands, and the kings of adjacent realms sought his aid and counsel in times of need. He governed with justice and moderation, heeding the counsels of the elders and the persuasions of the wise, so that peace and security flourished throughout the realm.

Offa was a man of great renown. He was spear-bold in battle, generous with gifts, and honoured far and wide. By his wisdom he held his homeland, and by his strength he kept the enemies of the Angles at bay. He was praised not only by his own people, but by foreigners and by those in distant lands. And he ruled in such a way that all who knew him held him in honour, veneration, and affection.

When the king had reached the age of thirty-four years, and the years of manhood were now fully upon him, the nobles of his kingdom began to urge him to take a wife. They were anxious not only for the present, but for the future, lest he should die without an heir and leave the kingdom exposed to peril. For the puberty of youthful age, the maturity of his character, and the pressing necessity of the kingdom, as well as the dignity of his honour, all demanded that he should marry and produce a successor.

Offa, however, was in no haste and he put off the nobles with jests and delays, playing at their concerns as though they were idle vanities. But they persisted, and with united counsel they urged him to take a wife without further delay. The king, being a lord of excellent judgment, did not wish to resist the will of his earls, and so he began to deliberate within himself, weighing the matter carefully with deep reason.

Then soon after Offa went hunting with his thegns in a deep forest. So thick was this forest that one day he became separated from his companions and was left wandering alone through the dense woods. After a time he heard a voice of lamentation, and following the sound, he found a girl of singular beauty, hidden among the thickets. She was of noble attire and most graceful in appearance, and she wept bitterly.

When he asked her what had brought her to such a place, she answered with sighs from the bottom of her heart: "For my sins," she said, "the calamity of this misfortune has befallen me. I was the daughter of a certain petty king who ruled over the Northumbrians. I was pampered, I was arrogant an haughty and my every desire was met, I lorded over all men both great and humble, I took great gift of gold and had men executed merely for looking me in the face. But one day my father, a terrbble battle lord, was taken by a lustful demon within him, began to covet me with incestuous lust, and often solicited me with threats, promises, blandishments, and gifts. When I refused, and would not consent to the wicked deed, he became enraged and ordered me to be led into the wilderness and fed to the beasts. But the men to whom I had been so cruel took pity on me and by the inspiration of the gods, marooned me here, alive, without mutilation, though without food, and so I have wandered here alone."

Thus she had been abandoned, exposed to wild beasts and robbers, until Offa found her. He took pity on her, and brought her to safety, entrusting her to the care of his most faithful attendants. This girl was called Modþryð, a name that means "fierce spirit" or "mighty strength," and indeed she had shown great strength in defying her father's wickedness.

And now, as Offa considered whom he should take as his bride, the thought of that Modþryð, so brave and resourceful filled him. So, leaving aside many other offers, even royal alliances that had been proposed to him, he chose her alone to be his wife, and took her in marriage with all honour.

Thus Offa wedded Modþryð, the daughter of the Northumbrian king, and she became Lady of the Angles, ruling beside him in wisdom and strength.

Part ᚠII: The Scottish Barbarians

Modþryð, whom Offa had found in the wilderness and taken as his lady, proved to be a woman of great virtue and wisdom. She was of noble lineage, for she was the daughter of a king, and her beauty was matched only by her grace. She bore Offa children of both sexes, elegant in form and of noble bearing, and the king rejoiced in his heirs as a lion rejoices in its cubs. Among these children was a son named Angeltheow, who would in time become the father of Eomer, as the genealogies record. And there were other children as well, whose names have been preserved in different traditions.

The nobles, too, who had once feared that the kingdom might lack a successor, now took heart, and the strength and joy of the realm were doubled by the sight of the royal offspring.

Modþryð governed her household with prudence, and she held high love toward the lord of heroes, so that all who knew her praised her goodness. She was known far and wide for her wisdom and her kindness, and the king was all the more honoured because of her.

Now it happened that in those days the King of Northumbria, whose realm lay across the sea, was grievously afflicted by the barbarous race of the Scots, and also by some of his own people who had turned against him. He had been struck almost to annihilation, and was destitute of the aid of his own defences. Hearing of Offa's great power and renown, he sent envoys to the Angle king, humbly supplicating that he might be strengthened against his enemies by Offa's support.

The terms they offered were these: that the Northumbrian king would not rule as a sovereign but would acknowledge Offa as overlord and rule as a low king, subjecting himself and all his people to the Angle king, for that Offa would drive the barbarians from his borders by his proven strength.

When Offa had received the words of the envoys, he relied on the counsel of his own men and was inclined to agree, provided that the Northumbrian king would confirm the pact by solemn oath upon the sacred Gospels and by the giving of hostages. And so, with these conditions secured and confirmed, Offa prepared to sail to Northumbria with a great hoard of warriors.

When he arrived, the Scottish barbarians were terrified by his approach and gave way, seeking safety in flight. Offa pursued them boldly and did not cease to drive them before him until he had utterly crushed them. Nor was he content with that; he pressed further into the lands of the Scots, determined to destroy their power once and for all.

And so Offa, who had once been mute and blind, now marched as a mighty king, feared by his enemies and honoured by his allies, and the fame of his deeds spread throughout all the lands round about.

Part ᚠIII: The Fall of Modþryð

While Offa was away in Northumbria, pursuing the barbarians and securing the northern borders, he sent a messenger back to Angeln with letters sealed with his royal signet. These letters were entrusted to the care of a trusted courier, who was commanded to deliver them to the chief men and nobles whom Offa had left to govern the realm in his absence.

Now it happened that the messenger, on his journey homeward, took lodging at the royal court of the Northumbrian king the father of Modþryð. For the road led through those lands, and the messenger, suspecting no treachery, sought hospitality there. But the Northumbrian king, whose heart was filled with bitterness at the loss of his independence and at the marriage of his daughter to the Angle king, received the messenger with feigned affection. He led him into the inner chambers of the palace, and by great effort and with much wine, he made him drunk. When the messenger lay sleeping, the king secretly opened the sealed letters and read them. Then, with cunning and malice, he altered the contents, forged the seal of Offa, and replaced the true letters with false ones, concealing his treachery so that the messenger suspected nothing.

The false letters, which the messenger delivered to the Anglish nobles, commanded that Modþryð, whom Offa had married without their consent, should be taken to the most desolate and uninhabitable places, frequented only by wild beasts and robbers. And because Offa's own words in the forged letter blamed the queen for the misfortunes that had befallen his army, the nobles were ordered to cut off her hands and feet and leave her to perish with her children.

When the nobles heard these terrible commands, they were struck with the greatest astonishment and grief. They deliberated for many days, fearful of disobeying the king's orders, yet troubled by the cruel injustice of the command. At last, believing that they must obey their lord's command, they sent their appropriators to seize Modþryð and her children. The lady, though she pleaded and wept, was dragged from the hall, and her innocent children were torn from her arms. They were led to the vast wilderness, far from any dwelling of men, where no help could come. Modþryð, because of her great beauty, was spared mutilation, but her feet and hands were severed. Her her children were not so fortunate. The appropriators, with savage cruelty, tore the young ones limb from limb, cutting their bodies into pieces, and left them scattered on the ground. Among these children was Angeltheow, the son who was destined to carry on the royal line. Modþryð herself was left alive, but alone and desolate, surrounded by the mutilated bodies of her children, without food, without hope, in a place of horror and desolation.

Part Iᛉ: The Hermit

In that vast and desolate wilderness, there lived a hermit, a man of great sanctity, who led a life of assiduous vigils, frequent fasts, and continuous prayers. He dwelt alone in that place of horror, serving god.

It happened that on the very night when Modþryð and her children were left in the wilderness, the hermit was passing through that region. As he walked in the twilight, he heard a voice of lamentation, a sound of weeping so piercing that it seemed to penetrate to the very marrow of his bones. He heard also the mournful wailing of infants, crying out as though from a mother's bosom, and his heart was moved with pity. Following the sound, he came upon a sight of such horror that tears streamed from his eyes: a woman, noble in bearing and of great beauty, lying among the scattered limbs of her children, weeping and rending her garments, her cries rising to the sky. He recognized her as Modþryð, the queen of Offa, whom he had once seen when she was a young maiden.

The hermit, moved by the mercy knelt beside her. He gathered the severed limbs of the children, fitting each part to its proper place, and joined them together as best he could. Then he signed the bodies with the triumphant sign of the Cross and prayed with all his strength, saying:

"God, who restored Lazarus after four days in the tomb, and who will restore the bodies of us all at the final judgment, I pray for your mercy: not looking upon me a sinner, but looking upon the most horrific suffering of these innocents, commanding these little bodies to be restored to life.”

And then a miracle occurred, such as had not been seen since the days of the old. Not only did the spirits of the dead children return to their bodies, but their little limbs were restored to wholeness, and they rose up alive and well, whole and unharmed. Modþryð, too, whose heart had been broken with grief, hands and feet were restored, and she embraced her children with tears of joy. Among those restored to life was Angeltheow, the son who would carry on the royal line.

The old hermit, who had witnessed this great wonder, took Modþryð and her children into his humble dwelling and nourished them with such food as he had, caring for them mercifully as a father cares for his children.

Thus Modþryð and her children dwelt in the wilderness with the hermit, sustained by woodland food. And they remained there for two months, hidden from the knowledge of men, until the appointed time when they should be revealed.

Part ᛉ: Offa's Reunion

Now after two months had passed, Offa, having completed his campaigns in Northumbria and utterly crushed the barbarians, returned home in triumph. He distributed the spoils of the conquered to his nobles with royal munificence and was received with great joy by all his people. But when he entered his palace, he found that Modþryð was not there to greet him, nor his children. He asked where they were, and his counsellors, who had long concealed the truth out of fear, hesitated and gave vague answers, saying that she had perhaps fallen ill and was avoiding company.

But Offa was not satisfied. He pressed them with stern questions, and at last, one of his attendants, trembling, revealed all that had happened: the forged letters, the commands, the mutilation of the children, and the exile of Modþryð to the desolate wilderness. When Offa heard these words, his joy was turned to mourning. He tore his garments, put on sackcloth and ashes, and wept bitterly, crying out that he would rather have lost his kingdom than his wife and children. The whole palace resounded with wailing and grief, and for many days the king could not be comforted.

At last, his nobles spoke to him, saying that it was not the way of great men to grieve without ceasing, and that he must seek solace and set a limit to his sorrow. Remembering that the king had always delighted in hunting, they summoned the huntsmen, and urged Offa to take to the forest, hoping that the pursuit of game might lighten his heart. And so Offa went forth, with his hunters and his hounds, wandering through the hidden places of the woods.

As he rode alone through the forest, far from his companions, a strange providence guided his steps. He found himself before a small humble dwelling nestled in the depths of the wilderness. Dismounting, he entered and was received with great kindness by the old hermit, who recognized him at once but said nothing. Offa sat down on a humble seat to rest his weary limbs, and as he rested, his grief returned. He began to speak of his lost wife Modþryð and his children, the memory of whom was still fresh in his heart. He told the hermit how he had once found a maiden in these very woods, how he had taken her as his wife, and how she had been cruelly taken from him.

Then Modþryð, who was in the inner chambers with her children entered and saw her husband, she could scarcely contain herself for joy. She fell at his feet, weeping tears of exultation. Offa, rushing to embrace her, received her with a joy greater than words can express. Then the hermit brought forth the children, now beautifully clad and comely, and Offa took them in his arms, pressing them to his breast and covering their rosy faces with kisses. With tears of joy, he wept over them, rejoicing in their restoration.

Part ᛉI: Offa’s Vow

After the first great joy of the reunion had passed, Offa and Modþryð and their children sat together in the hermit's humble dwelling, the hermit, seeing the king's heart overflowing with gratitude, spoke to him with fatherly authority and said:

"My lord King, in memory of your father and your mother, to whom I was once dear and familiar, and in gratitude to the god who restored your family, you should strive to found some monastery, or to restore some ruined one.

Then, turning to the lady, he said: "And you, daughter Modþryð, although a woman, yet not in a womanly manner, should inflame and diligently admonish the king to this cause.”

The king and queen received these words with respect, and Offa took a the vow that he would build a monastery in gratitude to the hermit. The hermit, having spoken his counsel, thanked them and sent them on their way.

Part ᛉII: Offa's Decline

But as the years passed, the king's resolve began to weaken. The memory of the hermit's counsel grew faint, and the urgency of his promise faded from his heart. He had been won great victories victories over the Saxons, over the Scots of the north, over all who had sought to destroy his kingdom. But with prosperity came complacency. Offa grew accustomed to ease, and the stern discipline of his youth gave way to indulgence. He devoted himself to the pleasures of courtly life, to the embrace of his lady, to the delights of hunting, and to the accumulation of treasure.

He spared his gold, saying to himself that there would be time enough to build the monastery in the future. The treasury grew full, but the stones of the promised house of God remained unlaid. The hermit's words, once so sharp and clear, became a distant echo, barely heeded amid the clamour of the court.

His thegns, who had once urged him to take a wife and secure the succession, now saw their king given over to idleness. But they held their peace, for the king was powerful, and his hand was heavy against any who dared to reproach him.

Yet Offa did not forget the hermit entirely. As his strength began to fail and his hair grew grey, he felt a twinge of guilt. But the body was now weak, and the will was weaker. He made no effort to fulfil what he had promised in the fullness of his youth. So the vow was neglected, the monastery was never built.