While other Europeans called the Vikings “Northmen” and considered the “heathens” to be “other” within their Christian world, the Vikings had their own northern neighbors, the Sami. The Sami are native people of the northern regions of Europe who, at the time, lived a semi-nomadic existence adapted to the extreme cold. While the Vikings considered them “different,” they had trading relationships and there is evidence of intermarriage and cultural exchange.   Origins of the Sami Photo of the Sami, by Granbergs Nya Aktiebolag, c. 1900-1920. Source: Wikimedia Commons   The Sami, or Sámi, occupied the northern parts of Norway, Sweden, Finland, and the Kola Peninsula in Russia, collectively known as Lapland. The Sami were sometimes called Laplanders, but today that is considered an offensive term as the term “Lapp” started to become associated with “backward” in later times.   At least ten different Sami languages survive today, from the Uralic family. This suggests that they were more closely related to Hungarians and Estonians than their Viking neighbors and migrated into the area down the Volga River.   There is potential evidence of the Sami in the region as much as 10,000 years ago through rock petroglyphs that seem to relate to their culture. More definitive archaeological evidence for Sami culture can be found from the Bronze Age forward, starting from around 1600 BCE.   References to the Sami also survive in a variety of early written sources from the 1st millennium CE. The Roman historian Tacitus writing around 100 CE described “Fenni” nomadic people living in the northern regions of what he called Germania. In the 2nd century CE, Ptolemy of Alexandria made similar observations about a people he called the “Phinnoi.” In 555 CE, the Greek author Procopius referred to “Skridfinns,” and in 750 CE, Paulus Diaconus observed “Skridfinns” that kept deer. The term “Finn” was used for the Sami in the Norse Sagas. This is thought to derive from the Proto-Germanic word meaning “to find,” because the Sami found their food.   Characteristics of Sami Culture Illustration of Sami reindeer herding, by John Turi, 1910. Source: Wikimedia Commons   The Sami were semi-nomadic hunter-gatherers who lived in the coldest Arctic regions. They were fishermen and hunters known to be lightning-fast skiers and excellent shots with a bow and arrow. The Vikings associated them with their winter goddess Skadi, a goddess of hunting and skiing. She was, in fact, a giant, a chaotic force in the universe, adopted into the Aesir pantheon.   One Norse Saga recounts that: “They can follow tracks like gods both on the thawed ground and on hard frozen snow, and they are so able on skis that nothing can escape them, neither men nor animals and whatever they shoot at, they hit.”   They lived in tents made from animal hides that they moved around their territory during the year. The Vikings also characterized them as wearing animal hides and eating raw meat. As well as skiing, they traveled in small boats down fjords and along shallow coasts, like their Viking neighbors.   Sami bear burial, Spildra, northern Troms, c. 1000 CE. Source: Research Gate   Their principal hunting prey was reindeer. One strategy they used was to set up Siedi Stones, which were like stone scarecrows, to draw reindeer into pitfalls and manmade traps. Shooting shelters are often found nearby, made from stones and hides, where the hunters hid to await their prey.   They also hunted squirrels, ermines, and foxes, and there is talk of them even keeping bears as pets. Bears seem to have been sacred among the Sami as there is evidence of bears that have been ritually interred. Poems suggest they also believed that they could gain the skill, strength, and senses of the bear from eating certain body parts, in a way that seems to relate to Viking berserker warriors. Their own burials were usually in slab-lined pits with bodies covered by birch shrouds.   Trade and Exchange With the Vikings Drawing of a Sami camp at Härjedalen in Sweden, by Johan Fredrik Martin, c. 1790-1800. Source: Wikimedia Commons   The Vikings and the Sami lived in distinct areas, though there was some overlap between them, especially in Norway. The Vikings tended to occupy the coastal regions, and the Sami the inland regions, but there is plenty of evidence for interaction.   We know that the Vikings and Sami engaged in goods exchange, with the Vikings acquiring furs and pelts in exchange, especially for metal goods, since metal ore was rare in Sami territory, and protection, especially from the Vikings themselves.   According to the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, a Viking chief from the north of Norway, called Ohthere of Halogaland, traveled to England and met with King Alfred the Great. While there, he explained that he received “gafole,” which could be interpreted as gifts or tribute, from the Sami. This took the form of furs and skins from both land and sea animals, and he described them as his most important source of income.   Photo of three Sami women, by J. Costas, c. 1890. Source: Wikimedia Commons   There is also evidence that the Norwegian Vikings also considered the Sami to be superior boat makers and they may have been consulted to build heavy-duty boats like whaling boats. A 10th-century burial mound contains a Norwegian man buried according to Viking custom in a 25-foot-long ship sewn together with reindeer sinews, as was the Sami custom. There is also a record of a Norwegian King who hired Sami craftsmen to build his fleet and lived among them in their winter settlements during the process.   There is evidence of intermarriage, with the recorded name “Halffinnr” meaning “half-Sami” much like the name “Halfdan” meant half-Danish. There are also specific references to Sami wives of well-known Vikings. According to the Heimskingla, King Harald Fairhair married a Sami woman named Snaefrid, and together they had four sons.   Sami Religion Wooden figure of the Sami god Horagalles, by Samiblog. Source: Flickr   We have some information on the religion of the Sami as it was still practiced in some form in the 18th century when ethnographers funded by the French government visited the Sami in 1939-1840. The Swedish ethnographer Lars Levi Laestadius produced a work called Fragments of Lappish Mythology shortly after, though it was first published in 1997.   The cosmos of the Sami involved three levels. There was an upper world (in the south) of warmth and life that was associated with the color white. There was a middle world, much like Midgard in Norse mythology, which was occupied by humans and associated with the color red. There was also a lower world (in the north) considered an underworld and associated with the color black. These worlds may have been imagined along a central tree, much like in Norse and Finnish mythology.   There certainly seems to have been cross-influence between Norse and Sami mythology. The Sami worshiped a hammer-wielding god of thunder called Horagalles who punished hurtful demons and evil spirits. This shows a clear relation to the Norse god of thunder Thor. As already mentioned, the ski goddess Skadi seems to have been a chaotic wilderness goddess incorporated into the Norse pantheon as a benevolent aspect.   But at its core, the Sami religion was an animistic religion that believed that the land and important aspects of nature, whether they be stones, lakes, or herds of reindeer, had souls. Rather than being organized into formal religious groups, there was a focus on personal spirituality and connecting with the natural and spirit worlds in daily life.   Sami Magic Etching of a Sami noaidi magician holding a drum, by O.H. von Lode, 1767. Source: Wikimedia Commons   A consistent theme in the few surviving Norse accounts of the Sami is a belief that they were powerful magic workers and could teach magic.   For example, in the Heimskringla, two men venture into Sami territory and come across a woman called Gunnhildr, who has learned witchcraft from two Sami wizards who are capable of turning the earth upside down and killing with a look. Gunnhildr tricks the men into killing the wizards for her. She goes on to marry Eric Bloodaxe and uses magic for her own benefit.   A Latin text from the 12th century known as The History of Norway described a Sami shamanic ritual in which a Sami wizard, called a noaidi, held onto a vessel that was decorated with images of whales, reindeer, and boats. He did a magical dance that enabled his gandus spirit to travel using these representations. But while on the move, his gandus encountered another and did battle. His gandus died, and the sorcerer dropped dead from the same injuries that his gandus had received.   The vessel referred to in the text was almost certainly a drum. Sami drums were decorated with these kinds of images and used in various magical practices. For example, objects representing different things could be placed on top of the drum, and then the drum hit. Where the pieces landed was used as a form of divination.   Assimilation of the Sami Sami family in Norway, c. 1900. Source: Wikimedia Commons   During the Viking Age, the Norsemen seem to have been happy to live alongside the Sami. When the Vikings started converting to Christianity at the start of the 11th century, there did not seem to have been any attempt to convert their Sami neighbors. This was probably motivated by the “otherness” of the Sami, and also a lack of interest in their territory, which was considered too wild to be useful. In fact, the Vikings often referred to the area as uninhabited, despite the Sami living there.   While there were efforts to convert the Sami from around the 16th century, serious contact between the Sami and the people in the south only began around the 18th century when the governments of Norway and Sweden began to assert sovereignty in the north. Forced assimilation policies were common in the 19th century.   Today, like many indigenous people around the world, the Sami are trying to recover from this period of cultural loss, while also battling the impact of climate change.

  The Arthurian legends do not often talk about King Arthur’s brothers. Most of the time, Arthur is presented as the only son of his parents, although he does often have sisters. However, even in the case of his sisters, Morgause and Morgan le Fay, these are most famously presented as his older half-sisters, with Arthur being the only child of Igerna and Uther. Nevertheless, there are some obscure texts which do provide Arthur with brothers. In this article, we will examine what we know about these obscure figures from the Arthurian legends.   Madoc ap Uthyr: Madoc Son of Uther Jesus College MS 20, folio 1r, showing Eliwlod calling himself son of Madawc, Welsh, c. 14th century. Source: Bodleian Library, Oxford   The very earliest source that mentions a brother of King Arthur is a poem entitled Madawg drut ac Erof, which dates to roughly the 9th to 11th century. Incidentally, this date would also make it one of the earliest Arthurian sources. This poem, which is found in the Book of Taliesin, is an elegy or death song dedicated to a figure known as Madoc ap Uthyr. His name is also written as Madog or even Madawg. The Uthyr mentioned as his father is evidently the Uthyr Pendragon of Arthurian tradition.   This is confirmed by a later poem, dated to c. 1150 at the earliest, usually known as Arthur and the Eagle. This presents a conversation between King Arthur and the spirit of his nephew, Eliwlod, who appears to Arthur in the form of an eagle. They have a conversation in which his nephew educates Arthur on religious matters. The nephew is called the son of Madoc ap Uthyr, confirming that Madoc’s father, Uthyr, is identical to Arthur’s father by that same name.   Church of St Madoc, Llanmadoc, Swansea, possibly dedicated to Madoc ap Uthyr. Source: Colin Smith via Geograph   Not much is known about Madoc. Aside from his elegy and the poem involving his nephew, there are only a few isolated references to him in Welsh poetry, none of which provide useful information. The single most useful source is his grave elegy, which provides us with a brief overview of who he was.   The opening of the elegy strongly implies that Madoc had a position of power, being a ruler of some kind. However, the poem focuses on Madoc’s downfall. It refers to his downfall being caused by a certain “Erof,” whose identity is unclear. It is possible that this is a name given to some kind of natural disaster since the poem refers to the earth quaking and a shadow falling on the world. Furthermore, an adjacent poem in the Book of Taliesin refers to Erof in its title, and the poem itself refers to its subject in apocalyptic terms. Still, very little is known for sure about who or what Erof was and how exactly he, or it, caused Madoc’s downfall.   The Curious Case of Gormant ap Ricca Culhwch and Olwen in Jesus College MS 111 folio 202r, showing Gormant ap Ricca on the third and fourth lines, Welsh, c. 1382-1425. Source: Bodleian Library, Oxford   Another example of one of King Arthur’s brothers from Welsh tradition is seen in Culhwch and Olwen, which is the earliest Welsh prose Arthurian tale. This dates from c. 1100. It tells the story of Arthur engaging in a series of dramatic and difficult adventures to aid his cousin, Culhwch, in his efforts to win the hand of Olwen. At one point, Culhwch refers to Arthur’s many allies. What follows is an incredibly long list of names. One of them is as follows:   “Gormant the son of Ricca (Arthur’s brother by his mother’s side; the Penhynev of Cerniw was his father).”   According to this, Arthur had a half-brother. His mother, unnamed here, had evidently been married to the “Penhynev” (Chief Elder) of Cerniw prior to being married to Arthur’s father, Uthyr. Interestingly, this provides strong independent support for the story recorded by Geoffrey of Monmouth about Uther taking Igerna, the wife of Gorlois, Duke of Cornwall. Notably, “Cerniw” is a Welsh place name that can mean Cornwall.   Gorlois (Gwrlais) shown in the center of a manuscript of Brut Tysilio, from the Jesus College MS 28, Welsh, 1695. Source: Bodleian Library, Oxford   According to many modern commentators, this text names Arthur’s half-brother as Gormant. This would mean that Ricca was the Penhynev of Cerniw, the former husband of Arthur’s mother. However, this would lead to a conflict with other aspects of Arthurian tradition. In Geoffrey’s account, he names the first husband of Arthur’s mother, Igerna, as Gorlois. In Welsh translations of Geoffrey’s work, the Welsh scribes often changed the names used by Geoffrey for names that were more familiar to their native traditions. Yet, in the case of Gorlois, they did not exchange it for the name “Ricca.” Rather, they simply wrote it as “Gwrleis” or “Gwrlais.” This suggests that they did not recognize Geoffrey’s Gorlois as equivalent to the Ricca from Welsh tradition.   An alternative possibility is that the parenthetical statement about Arthur’s half-brother is not actually a reference to Gormant. Since it comes immediately after the patronymic, it could instead be a reference to Gormant’s father, Ricca. In other words, it was Ricca who was the half-brother of Arthur and the son of the Penhynev of Cerniw, whose name is simply not included in the text.   Artegall: Arthur’s Brother in The Faerie Queene A depiction of Britomart viewing Artegall, by Walter Crane, c. 1896. Source: Folger Shakespeare Library   Another figure who appears as the brother of King Arthur in the Arthurian legends is Artegall. He is a character in Edmund Spenser’s The Faerie Queene, written in 1590. He appears as Arthur’s half-brother, the son of Gorlois rather than Uthyr. He is a champion of justice and engages in adventures, being saved at one point by his lover, Britomart.   Of course, Edmund Spenser’s text comes from long after the medieval Arthurian texts. Normally, Thomas Malory’s 15th-century Le Morte d’Arthur is viewed as the latest text that can be classed as part of medieval Arthurian tradition. However, this does not mean that Spenser made up the character of Artegall. In fact, there is clear evidence that he did not. There is general agreement that this character is merely Spenser’s adapted version of a character who appears in several Arthurian sources prior to Spenser, going all the way back to Geoffrey of Monmouth. There is also evidence that Spenser did not invent the idea that he was a brother of Arthur.   The title page of Richard Grafton’s A Chronicle at Large, 1569. Source: Wikimedia Commons   One source close to Spenser’s own time is Richard Grafton’s A Chronicle at Large, written about 30 years before The Faerie Queene. In this source, Grafton provided a brief overview of King Arthur’s reign. Immediately after this, he discussed the figure of Arthgal, an important person from Arthur’s time. While not providing very much information about him, he says that he was the first Earl of Warwick.   This character of Arthgal, Earl of Warwick, appears in Geoffrey of Monmouth’s Historia Regum Britanniae, written in c. 1137. He appears as one of Arthur’s many allies who attend his special coronation. While Geoffrey does not call Arthgal the brother of Arthur, there is evidence for this connection.   As mentioned earlier, the Welsh translations of Geoffrey’s work often exchanged names with different ones to better align with native Welsh tradition. Fascinatingly, in the Welsh Brut Tysilio, the name “Arthgal” is replaced with “Madoc.” The only Madoc associated with King Arthur in Welsh tradition is his brother. This suggests that the Welsh understood Geoffrey’s Arthgal (and, by extension, Spenser’s Artegall) to be Madoc, the brother of Arthur.   Were Any of These Brothers Historical? Llandaff Cathedral, Cardiff, Wales. Source: Tom Pennington via Geograph   So far, we have seen that Arthurian tradition provides Arthur with more than one brother. However, were any of them historical? After all, other family members of Arthur in the legends are known to have really existed. For example, the famous Saint David of Wales, who definitely existed, was said to have been Arthur’s uncle. Therefore, each family member needs to be assessed on their own merit.   In the case of Madoc, the fact that he appears so early in Welsh tradition supports the conclusion that he may have really existed. Interestingly, a figure with this same name, spelled “Matuc,” appears in the medieval Book of Llandaff as a witness to a land grant. The grant in question was overseen by King Meurig of Gwent, son of Tewdrig. While many scholars date Meurig to the 7th century, many others date him to the 6th century. If this latter suggestion is correct, then this would place this apparently historical “Matuc” in exactly the right time period to be Madoc. It would also place him in the right location since early Arthurian tradition closely associated him with the region of Gwent.   The Legendary Brothers of King Arthur A folio of Brut Tysilio showing Madoc of Caer Wair (Warwick) on the fourth line, in the place of Geoffrey’s Arthgal, in Jesus College MS 28, Welsh, 1695. Source: Bodleian Library, Oxford   In conclusion, what do we know about the legendary brothers of King Arthur? Arthurian tradition assigns him at least two brothers. The earliest is Madoc, seen in a poem dating to potentially as early as the 9th century. He is best remembered for his death, which appears to have been connected in some way with dramatic natural events. Another brother was a half-brother who was either Gormant or his father Ricca. In view of Welsh tradition not replacing Geoffrey of Monmouth’s “Gorlois” with “Ricca,” it is likely that Ricca, and not Gormant, was Arthur’s half-brother.   A much later legendary brother was Artegall, from Edmund Spenser’s The Faerie Queene. Although this is a very late Arthurian text, there is clear evidence that the character of Artegall already existed in the Arthurian legends and had done so since at least c. 1137. He was Geoffrey’s Arthgal, Earl of Warwick. Welsh translations of Geoffrey’s work indicate that he was viewed as identical to Madoc.

  When a man is the only canonized king of a country, he must have done something right, surely? This article will explore the life and reign of King Louis IX of France, also known as Saint Louis. One of the most famous kings of the Middle Ages, Louis ruled from 1226-70 and was known as one of the most saintly kings to ever sit on the French throne. This article will explore his life and his reign, from his earliest years until his untimely death in North Africa, when he, aged 56 years old.   Louis’s Early Life Louis IX of France, c. 1250. Source: The Morgan Library   Louis was born on April 25, 1214 as the fourth son of King Louis VIII of France (also known as Louis the Lion). Due to the deaths of his older brothers, he would end up being the one to succeed his father as the eldest surviving child.   His mother was Blanche of Castile, who herself had royal roots: her grandfather was the founder of the Plantagenet Dynasty, King Henry II of England, and her grandmother was the formidable Eleanor of Aquitaine. His paternal grandfather was the legendary Philip Augustus of France, meaning that as far as royal blood goes, the young Prince Louis had some of the best.   Little is known of Louis’s early years, partly because he was so young when he came to the throne. He was educated in traditional fashion, undertaking studies in Latin, writing, government, military arts, and more. He was only twelve years old when his father died, and the young Prince Louis was crowned king of France at Reims Cathedral on November 29, 1226.   Louis’s Minority Years Blanche of Castile, artist unknown, c. 1250. Source: The Morgan Library   Fortunately for Louis, his mother was still alive, and she ruled as queen regent in his stead, until he came of age. And it is thanks to Blanche that Louis gained his faith and devout Christianity, as she was also a very pious and religiously devoted woman.   In addition to her religiosity, Blanche of Castile was a capable ruler of France, which is something that Louis would turn to again later in his life. She successfully ended the Albigensian Crusade by formally signing an agreement with Raymond VII of Toulouse when Louis was just 15 years old.   Louis’s personal rule is generally accepted to have started around 1234, which was when he was 20 years old, and he married Margaret of Provence. This marriage was a well-suited one, with Margaret also showing her religious devotion openly, much to the delight of Louis. However, Louis’s mother was apparently jealous of Margaret and tried to keep the couple apart whenever she could.   Louis’s pious nature led him to gain a reputation as a “monk king” among some critics, but for the most part, he was a keen warrior, and he ended up going on two crusades. Aside from this, he was also very well respected in European politics at the time, and would often act as a mediator between two warring kingdoms. Many of his contemporaries saw him as the ideal Christian monarch, so who better to represent Christendom in a crusade?   The Origins of the Seventh Crusade Louis IX taken prisoner during the Seventh Crusade, by Gustave Doré, 1850. Source: Wikimedia Commons   The First Crusade had been announced at the Council of Clermont in 1095 and had set medieval Europe and Christendom alive with crusading fever. Ever since then, numerous crusades have been to and from the Holy Land in an attempt to reclaim the Holy Land from the Saracens (or “the infidel”) albeit largely unsuccessfully.   Huge names had been involved in these various crusades over the last century-and-a-half, including Pope Urban II, Pope Innocent III, Richard the Lionheart, Frederick Barbarossa, and Louis’s own grandfather, Philip Augustus, who had taken part in the famed Third Crusade.   The ideal Christian monarch—someone exactly like Louis IX—should therefore be compelled to go on a crusade for the good of the realm and see that Christendom should be victorious over Islam once and for all. It did not take Louis much persuading to go on a crusade.   Louis IX and the Seventh Crusade Departure of Louis IX for the Seventh Crusade, by Gustave Doré, c. 1850. Source: Wikimedia Commons   The Seventh Crusade was so important to Louis’s reign, it is sometimes known as “the Crusade of Louis IX.”   The crusade was announced as a response to the loss of Jerusalem in 1244, which led to the rise of the Mamluk sultanate. Of all European monarchs who could have led a crusade, none were better suited than the ideal Christian monarch himself, Louis IX, who took the cross and pledged to retake the Holy Land for Christendom.   Louis and his followers landed in Egypt in early June 1249 and swiftly captured the port of Damietta. However, this was the sad pinnacle of the Seventh Crusade, as things soon began to take a turn for the worse.   While the capture of Damietta was important, even more so because the Ayyubid Sultan Al-Malik as-Salih Najm al-Din Ayyub was on his deathbed, it was the subsequent march from the coast to Cairo that cost the Crusaders greatly.   The Crusaders marched through the Nile River Delta but due to the seasonal rise of the Nile and the scorchingly hot Egyptian summer, the Crusaders made very little progress, losing men to disease and dehydration.   The pinnacle came on February 8, 1250, when Louis IX’s Crusaders faced off against Turanshah’s Ayyubid Dynasty forces at the Battle of Fariskur. The Crusaders were roundly defeated, and Louis was actually captured by the Egyptians.   In order to negotiate for his release, the Crusaders were required to pay a ransom of 400,000 livres tournois, as well as surrender the city of Damietta. For context, the annual revenue of France at the time was about 250,000 livres tournois, so France had to borrow money from the Templars to pay it off.   The Aftermath of the Seventh Crusade Louis IX during the Seventh Crusade, by Guillaume de Saint-Pathus, c. 1350. Source: USU   Following the Seventh Crusade and his release from captivity, Louis IX did not opt to return to France. Instead, he would stay in and around the Holy Land for the next four years, with his mother ruling as queen regent until her death in 1252.   In relation to his holy nature, he spent the years from 1250-54 fortifying the Crusader States in order to protect them from Islamic attacks—with the majority of his efforts centered around the key crusading cities of Acre, Jaffa, and Caesarea. It was also reported that he actively engaged with the Ayyubid forces in diplomatic negotiations.   When Louis returned to France, he resumed his role as king, but his mind and heart often yearned for the Middle East, rather than France. He was also often in contact with Mongol leaders (showing how far communication systems had developed during his reign).   The Eighth Crusade and Louis IX’s Death The Death of Louis IX, by Jean Fouquet, c. 1455-60. Source: BNF   It was little surprise that in 1267 Louis once again took the cross, this time with three of his sons, pledging to return to Tunis in North Africa and relieve the missionaries who had been subject to attacks there.   When the crusade materialized and landed at Carthage on July 17, 1270, all did not go to plan. Disease broke out in the camp, with many men succumbing to it and dying.   Louis’s final battle was not against the Ayyubid Sultanate, but against one of the biggest killers of crusaders—dysentery. Unfortunately, Louis lost this battle and died on August 25, 1270, aged 56 years old.   He was succeeded as king of France by his eldest surviving son, Philip, who would go on to be crowned King Philip III.   Louis IX’s Legacy Louis’s body returning to France, c. 1340. Source: British Library   As mentioned, Louis is the only French monarch to have been venerated as a saint, or canonized.   Because he was considered the ideal Christian monarch, Pope Boniface VIII proclaimed his canonization as early as 1297, and to this day, the Catholic Church honors Louis IX with a feast day, held every year on August 25—the anniversary of his death.   However, Louis’s legacy is also felt on a global scale, even today, with many places around the world named after him, such as St. Louis (Missouri, USA), Saint Louis (Senegal), San Luis Province (Argentina), San Luis (Batangas, Philippines), and many more. Numerous buildings (especially hospitals) have been named after Louis IX, and many works of fiction have centered on Louis’s pious nature and deep faith.   Final Thoughts The French saint King Louis IX in the stained glass of the East window of All Saints Church in Cambridge. Source: Wikimedia Commons   Louis IX was, without a doubt, one of the most iconic French monarchs of all time. Many monarchs in the Middle Ages in particular are judged by their warring nature and their successes in battle, which makes Louis even more unique, as he was not actually very successful in either of his crusading attempts.   Great kings—such as William the Lion of Scotland, Edward III of England, Henry V of England, Richard the Lionheart, and other leaders like Guy of Lusignan and Frederick Barbarossa were all renowned for their roles—and successes—in war. In the Middle Ages, masculinity and warfare went hand-in-hand, and a good monarch was a strong warrior.   However, Louis IX’s Christianity and piety meant that he was the ideal Christian monarch, which, at the time when crusading fever was at its peak, meant that he was surely the ideal monarch to do God’s will and lead the armies of Christendom victorious over the infidel Muslim armies in the Middle East and North Africa.   It is worth asking the question—would Louis IX have had such a strong reputation as one of the greatest kings of France if he had ruled in any other period, or would he have been deemed weak?   We’ll let you decide on that one!

  In the Roman era of Britain, the island was inhabited by Celtic-speaking Britons. By the 7th century, a huge portion of Britain was inhabited by Germanic-speaking Anglo-Saxons. How did this massive shift happen? While the traditional narrative explains that the Anglo-Saxons invaded from the continent en masse, scholars in recent decades have generally favored a less dramatic explanation. It has been popular to argue that relatively few Germanics actually arrived in Britain and that the Britons willingly adopted the culture and language of the Anglo-Saxons. What does new genetic research reveal about this controversy?   Traditional vs Revised Review of the Migration Anglo-Saxon Homelands and Settlements. Source: Wikimedia Commons   To understand the significance of this new genetic research, we need to understand the controversy about the Anglo-Saxon migration. According to medieval sources, the Britons sought help from Germanic mercenaries after the end of the Roman era. This arrangement soon broke down, leading to the Anglo-Saxons to begin invading en masse. This large-scale invasion from the continent took place over generations, continuing well into the 6th century. They slaughtered innumerable Britons, driving them out of their home territory. The Britons were pushed to the west, eventually becoming confined to Wales and the West Country.   However, due to a lack of clear archaeological evidence for extensive violence and destruction in this era, many scholars throughout the 20th century turned away from this traditional narrative. They began viewing the emergence of the Anglo-Saxons in Britain as a case of semi-peaceful migration and an exchange of culture. Some extreme minimalists essentially denied that any Anglo-Saxon migration occurred at all.   Previous Genetic Studies Map of the population of Britain divided by DNA, from Leslie et al, “The Fine Scale Genetic Structure of the British Population,” Nature, 2015. Source: National Library of Medicine   With the advent of new technology, it was thought that genetic studies could settle the matter. By looking at the DNA of the population of England and comparing it with the population of Wales and Germany, this would supposedly reveal how significant the Anglo-Saxon migration was. If the DNA of the English only had a small amount of German DNA, being predominantly similar to Welsh DNA, then this would prove that the Anglo-Saxon migration was a very small event. In contrast, if the DNA of the English was more similar to the Germans than to the Welsh, then this would demonstrate that a sizable number of Anglo-Saxons must have replaced the natives. At least, this was the theory. As scientists performed such studies, what did they find?   A notable study from 2015 by Leslie et al found that the percentage of Germanic ancestry, attributable to the Anglo-Saxons, among the modern English was between 10 and 40 percent. This suggested that the Anglo-Saxon migration was not nearly as large as the medieval sources implied.   Photo of a large Anglo-Saxon burial ground in Buckinghamshire. Source: BBC   The results of this study emboldened those who were driven by the apparent lack of archaeological evidence for violence to argue that the Anglo-Saxon migration was a very limited event. This seemed to support the viewpoint that the emergence of Anglo-Saxon England was predominantly the result of native Britons adopting the culture and language of a small number of Germanic arrivals.   However, a big problem with studies of this nature is that they are, of course, based on modern populations. The following year, a study was performed that looked at evidence from early medieval burials. They sequenced the genomes of individuals whom they believed to be Anglo-Saxons and used that as a basis for comparison with modern populations. Interestingly, the evidence found in this 2016 study largely corroborated that of the earlier one. The researchers found that the modern population of eastern England had a range of 25-50 percent Saxon DNA. This, again, suggested that the Anglo-Saxons were always the minority in their territory.   A Landmark Genetic Study The temporal and geographic origin of the individuals included in the study, in Gretzinger et al “The Anglo-Saxon Migration and the Formation of the Early English Gene Pool,” Nature, 2022. Source: Nature   This same trend continued in 2020, with another study comparing medieval DNA to modern populations. This study found that only 31 percent of the DNA of the modern English comes from the Anglo-Saxons.   However, this all changed in 2022. This study, led by J. Gretzinger, D. Sayer, and P. Justeau and published in Nature, analyzed thousands of ancient and medieval samples from Europe and England, covering the period from 200 to 1300 CE. This enabled the researchers to see clearly how many Anglo-Saxons migrated to Britain in the post-Roman era. They did not have to rely on studying modern populations and hoping that these populations preserved the medieval percentage of Germanic DNA.   The results of the study were striking. The researchers found that there was evidence of substantial migration from across the North Sea, the continental home of the Anglo-Saxons, into Britain. With this new evidence, there is no doubt at all that the Anglo-Saxon migration was a major event.   Re-enactment group as Anglo-Saxon warriors   According to the researchers:   “We identify a substantial increase of continental northern European ancestry in early medieval England, which is closely related to the early medieval and present-day inhabitants of Germany and Denmark, implying large-scale substantial migration across the North Sea into Britain during the Early Middle Ages. As a result, the individuals who we analysed from eastern England derived up to 76% of their ancestry from the continental North Sea zone.”   Of course, not all regions of England showed such high percentages. Nevertheless, the researchers note the following:   “Our results overwhelmingly support the view that the formation of early medieval society in England was not simply the result of a small elite migration, but that mass migration from afar must also have had a substantial role.”   The significance of this genetic study on the controversy surrounding the Anglo-Saxon migration is immense. It has demonstrated that the minimalist viewpoint is wrong, and even the more centralist viewpoint is no longer tenable.   What Does This Genetic Evidence Mean for the Anglo-Saxons? Anglo-Saxon grave containing a woman cradling a baby, Lincolnshire Wolds, c. 5th or 6th century. Source: BBC   However, this genetic study does not necessarily mean that the traditional description of the Anglo-Saxon migration is accurate. According to the traditional view, not only was there a mass migration, but the Anglo-Saxons violently invaded and conquered the land of the native Britons. The two peoples did not peacefully integrate with each other.   What does the evidence from the genetic study reveal about this aspect of the Anglo-Saxon migration? Is there any evidence that it was a violent invasion, or was it a semi-peaceful migration?   One key finding of this study was that there were just as many women who migrated to Britain as men. Some news outlets attempted to portray such a finding as evidence that this was not a violent invasion. According to their logic, only a male-dominated immigrant population would indicate such a thing. However, when we look at the evidence from medieval sources more closely, we can see why this argument is not in harmony with the facts.   A depiction of Bede, one of the medieval historians who fought about the Anglo-Saxon invasion, Gloucester Cathedral. Source: Wikimedia Commons   The medieval sources always portrayed the Anglo-Saxons as invading for the purpose of conquering new land for their families to live in. It was not the case that they were conquering new territory to impose tribute on subject peoples, like the Romans. Rather, they had every intention of actually living in the new land that they were conquering. This is what the medieval sources tell us. Hence, the fact that we find just as many women as men migrating over to Britain in the post-Roman era is not in any way inconsistent with the tradition of violent migration.   Nevertheless, what the study does prove is that the Anglo-Saxons did not entirely replace the local population. Even within individual settlements, the researchers often found that both entirely foreign and entirely local individuals were present together. In some places, there is evidence for social separation, whereas in others, there is not.   Yet this, too, does not in the slightest suggest that there was not a violent invasion. After all, the Romans violently invaded Britain yet never even came close to wiping out the local population in any area.   What Genetic Studies Show About the Anglo-Saxon Migration Invaders crossing the sea to Britain, Pierpont Morgan Library MS M.736, folio 9v, c. 12th century. Source: Morgan Library and Museum   In conclusion, what do modern genetic studies show about the Anglo-Saxon migration? Over the past ten years, there have been a variety of studies primarily using modern DNA. These studies suggested that the Anglo-Saxons only ever comprised a minority of the population inhabiting England. However, the most recent major study on the matter, from 2022, has completely overturned this viewpoint. This study has demonstrated that there was indeed a mass migration of Germanics from across the North Sea. In eastern England, the percentage of Germanic DNA on average was as high as 76 percent.   Of course, there are some things that this study cannot reveal. For example, it cannot reveal how violent this process was. Nevertheless, it seems unlikely that such a large population displacement could have occurred without violence, given the inevitable struggle over resources. This study reveals that there was plenty of integration between the locals and the new arrivals, but it does not reveal whether this was forced or by choice.   Despite the unanswered questions, this study has provided profoundly important information regarding the true nature of the Anglo-Saxon migration.

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