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Has history’s most famous comet been misnamed for centuries? “The answer is clear,” say historians
David Musgrove reports on new research that casts light on the appearance of the comet in the 11th century, and its depiction in the Bayeux Tapestry
Halley’s Comet was last seen from Earth in 1986 and is expected to return in 2061. It’s widely taken for granted that the Stuart astronomer Edmond Halley was the first to recognise its roughly 76-year cycle, an insight he formalised in 1705 and which ultimately gave the comet his name. However, new research by professors Michael Lewis of the British Museum and Simon Portegies Zwart of Leiden University says that attribution might be wrong. Their work suggests that credit may instead belong to an English medieval monk named Elmer. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2025/12/GettyImages-514079858-a25607f-e1764931346339.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="Halley’s Comet streaks across the sky in this 1986 photograph taken from the Ford Observatory, marking its most recent visit to the inner solar system. Once feared as a portent of upheaval, the comet is now a predictable visitor whose returns chart centuries of astronomical discovery." title="Halley's Comet, 1986" /> Elmer the flying monk Elmer, also known as Aethelmaer, lived in Malmesbury, Wiltshire, and is best remembered for leaping off Malmesbury Abbey attached to some homemade wings, attempting human flight, at some point between 1000-1010. In the words of chronicler William of Malmesbury, Elmer “had by some contrivance fastened to his hands and feet in order that he might fly as Daedalus, and collecting the air, on the summit of a tower, had flown for a distance of a furlong”. As well as recording Elmer’s early exploits in aviation, William also noted that – perhaps unsurprisingly – the flight did not end well. The monk ended up crashing to the ground, breaking his legs and becoming lame as a consequence. Despite this disability, he lived a long life and was still around (albeit elderly) during the Norman Conquest in 1066. Notwithstanding his very rough landing in 1005, Elmer’s legacy as the flying monk was secured, and even now, Malmesbury boasts a Flying Monk Brewery. Arguably, however, Elmer’s achievements in astronomy were more worthy of celebration than his achievements in aviation. Halley’s Comet, or Elmer’s? According to William of Malmesbury, a young Elmer observed Halley’s Comet in the year 989 and considered it a bad omen. Then, 77 years later, Elmer again saw the 1066 comet. William reported that Elmer once more saw it as a portent of doom, crouching “in terror at the sight of the gleaming star”. Given that Elmer seems to have identified the celestial body twice and attributed the same doom-laden values to it, is there an argument to be made that it was the medieval monk, rather than Edmond Halley, who should be celebrated for recognising its cycle? Read more | Isaac Newton: life, discoveries, rivalries and the truth about the apple According to Lewis, an expert on the Bayeux Tapestry, and the astrophysicist Portegies Zwart, “the answer is clear: Elmer beat Halley to identifying Halley’s Comet twice, also recognising (in some way) it had a regular cycle”. In their view, he effectively identified the comet’s recurrence centuries before Halley’s calculation. Elmer, 1066, and the Bayeux Tapestry Indeed, many medieval history enthusiasts will be aware that the comet is famously shown in the Bayeux Tapestry, which documents the course of the Norman Conquest. The article by Lewis and Portegies Zwart (titled The Significance of Halley’s Comet in the Bayeux Tapestry, published in the edited collection Dorestad and Everything After: Ports, Townscapes & Travellers in Europe, 800–1100) argues that Halley’s Comet would not have been visible from England in 1066 before 24 April, and possibly not until 30 April. But in the Bayeux Tapestry, the comet appears above a scene showing crowds reacting to the coronation of King Harold, which occurred in January. The mismatch between astronomical reality and artistic depiction raises questions about why the comet was placed in that scene. So what explains the discrepancy? Comet propaganda? Harold’s rise to the throne followed the death of Edward the Confessor and came at a moment of political uncertainty. In Normandy, Duke William regarded Harold’s accession as a usurpation, as William claimed Harold had sworn to support his own claim to the throne. The Bayeux Tapestry includes a prominent depiction of Harold swearing an oath on holy relics in William’s presence, but it offers no explanation of its purpose, leaving the episode open to interpretation. Lewis and Portegies Zwart suggest that linking the comet with Harold’s coronation was an intentional choice, designed to draw the two events together “for political reasons with the benefit of hindsight”. Their view reflects a broader trend in 11th and 12th-century sources, which retrospectively cast the comet as a portent of disaster for Harold and as a sign woven into the unfolding succession crisis. The most contemporary accounts (the various versions of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle) do not link the comet to the succession crisis. Instead, they associate it with the more immediate threat posed by Harold’s disaffected brother Tostig, who arrived shortly after the comet’s appearance with a fleet that raided England’s south coast. This occurred in the spring of 1066, several months before the Norman invasion. But, over time, the Norman interpretation prevailed. The comet became part of a retrospective narrative supporting William’s conquest and portraying Harold’s reign as doomed from the outset. Lewis and Portegies Zwart note that, had the outcome at Hastings been different, the same comet might instead have been remembered as an omen of the failure of William’s ambitions. Alas, for the Anglo-Saxons it was not to be… More from us HistoryExtra members can explore more medieval history with exclusive content from our archives Medieval manners and etiquette: dos and don’ts of the Middle Ages Medieval England's political miracle: how the 13th and 14th centuries laid the foundations for modern Britain How to go on a medieval pilgrimage Why there’s no such thing as a typical medieval peasant Not a HistoryExtra member? Explore our latest membership offers
In 1525, an army of revolting peasants seemed unstoppable – but a brutal end was on the horizon
Set alight by Reformation hopes and long-standing grievances, the German Peasants’ War looked like it might successfully upend the established order. Instead, it ended in catastrophe
In the spring of 1525, the German countryside erupted. Across the patchwork of states that made up the Holy Roman Empire, tens of thousands rose in arms, sacked castles and looted monasteries. For a few months the rebels looked unstoppable. Then, as summer wore on, their movement collapsed. “It was a disaster,” says historian Lyndal Roper, speaking on the HistoryExtra podcast: “a traumatic event that happens in the very middle of the Reformation.” The German Peasants’ War of 1524-1525 was the largest popular uprising in western Europe before the French Revolution. It spread at pace from the Black Forest through Swabia, Franconia, Saxony and Thuringia. What began as demands for redress turned into a continent-wide crisis that took thousands of lives. Europe in 1525 The Holy Roman Empire wasn’t a single kingdom but a mosaic of principalities, bishoprics and free cities owing loose allegiance to an emperor. Peasants shouldered rents, labour services and tithes to multiple overlords. In the 1510s prices rose sharply while wages lagged, and harvests failed in some years. Local lords tightened control over forests, rivers and game, fencing off resources that peasants had long used for food and fuel. At the same time, the Reformation was remaking Europe’s moral language. Martin Luther’s call to place scripture above church authority gave ordinary people a new set of ideas about rights and conscience. “One of the theological ideas behind it,” Roper explains, “is the really important idea that God created the world. He created the fish in the water, the birds in the air, the beasts in the forest, the wood, the water – all these resources were created by God, and therefore they should be free for mankind. “And therefore, the lords can’t go around saying: these are our ponds, these are our rivers, and you can’t fish in them, you can’t hunt animals in the forest, you aren’t allowed to hunt deer.” <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2025/10/GettyImages-596958418-e850f8a-e1761215302479.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="Eugène Siberdt’s painting portrays Martin Luther in 1521 at Wartburg Castle, where he translated the New Testament into German. Working in hiding after his excommunication, Luther’s translation made scripture accessible to ordinary believers." title="Martin Luther Translating the Bible, Wartburg Castle, 1521 by Eugene Siberdt" /> The Twelve Articles By early 1525 rebel bands, known as Haufen, were forming regional alliances and putting their case to the world. In Memmingen, Swabia, spokesmen drafted the Twelve Articles, a manifesto that asked for the right of ordinary people to choose their own pastors, have fair tithes and rents, an end to serfdom and freedom to fish, hunt and use wood for fuel. It framed social demands in religious language: if scripture didn’t forbid it, why should lords? Princes and abbots recognised how dangerous this was: disruptive ideas that were easy to copy and carry from village to village. Townspeople, miners and some lower members of the nobility joined in, while other powerful figures were coerced to lead peasant forces under duress. A revolt on the march As spring turned to early summer, the rebels won startling gains. Castles fell, and abbeys surrendered treasure and stores. The rebels’ stocks came, Roper notes, from the same institutions they attacked. “What I find more surprising is their success,” she says. “Because they were pretty much in charge for a couple of months. That was an extraordinary success.” Read more | Europe's holy war: how the Reformation convulsed a continent “The rebellion was able to keep going for so long, and it was able to arm itself and it was able to provide provisions for itself,” she explains. “And I think the key to understanding how that is possible is the way they were able to plunder convents and monasteries. And I think that made them better armed and better resourced than many revolts.” The shock was felt across Europe. “Many monasteries were burnt to the ground, and the castles were set on fire too,” says Roper. There was a sense that the established order was failing. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2025/10/GettyImages-1277808381-5daf75b-e1761215150884.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="Rebellious peasants killing a knight during the German Peasants’ War. The violent uprising, fuelled by demands for justice and reform, exposed deep social and religious tensions in the early Reformation era." title="Murder of a knight by rebellious peasants." /> Why the tide turned However, the rebels’ success brought attention. And attention eventually drew an organised response. “Really the war is at its peak through April to the middle of May of 1525,” Roper says, “but even then, it doesn’t end. It’s only in the autumn when it’s finally and irrevocably put down. And even then, the lords are still worried that there will be further revolts. But this tide certainly begins to turn [against the rebels] in the middle of May.” The reason for the change of fortunes? Fresh troops had become suddenly available to those looking to suppress the peasants and restore order. “By that point, you’ve had the battle of Pavia in Italy,” Roper explains, “and the mercenaries who are involved in fighting there then come on the market again. And so it’s possible to buy mercenaries to try and put the revolt down. And, gradually, a coalition is put together of princes who do put the revolt down in the end.” Read more | Your guide to the Peasants' Revolt of 1381 Veteran Landsknecht – pike-and-shot soldiers hardened in the Italian Wars – were hired by coalitions such as the Swabian League. Their artillery, cavalry and discipline exposed the weaknesses of peasant armies, which were large but poorly. Key defeats followed in quick succession, most famously at Frankenhausen in Thuringia in mid-May, where thousands of rebels died. A summer of blood The repression was brutal, and magnates meant to make an example. “These are very bloody battles; really dreadful atrocities,” says Roper, highlighting the particular brutality of an example from the village of Lupstein. “The populists are terrified, so they rush to the church, they seek refuge there, and then the troops set the village on fire in all four corners. And so the people in the church raised their hats at the windows as a sign of surrender, but it was too late and they all perished.” In all, as the fighting came to an end, the toll was extraordinary. “We’ll never know exactly how many people died,” she notes, “but our best guess is somewhere between 70,000 and 100,000 people. That’s an extraordinary number, and a lot of that was very bloody killing. People talked about the streets running with blood and they meant that literally, or they talked about going through the vineyards and those vineyards being full of butchered peasants. It really was a summer of fire, and then of blood.” By autumn, organised resistance had collapsed and many of its leaders were executed. Communities that, briefly, held some kind of power were now forced back into deference. Politically, the defeat strengthened territorial rulers and leagues like the Swabian League. In many regions dues were reimposed, seigneurial rights tightened and surveillance was increased. But the Twelve Articles remained a landmark in the language of rights, and the spirit of the Lutheran Reformation persisted. Lyndal Roper was speaking to Emily Briffett on the HistoryExtra podcast. Listen to the full conversation.
Forget the longships: this is the overlooked story of how the Vikings dominated eastern Europe
How did the Norse adventurers of the Viking Age impose themselves upon eastern Europe? Not with longships and raids, says one historian, but through canny adaptation
The Norse peoples of the Viking Age held much of western Europe tightly in their grip thanks to their imperious command of the sea. Their prowess as seafarers let them strike their targets at speed and then slip away just as swiftly, in repeated cycles of relentless raids from the fertile shores of the British Isles to the harsher coasts of Iceland that brought wealth and power. Viking longships carved with fearsome, dragon-headed prows crashed through imposing waves, delivering warriors to burn monasteries and terrorise prosperous lands. These vessels were key to their hit-and-run strategy, and to its eventual evolution into something more settled as the Norse forged enduring strongholds on hostile ground. But for the Vikings who ventured east toward the Slavic and Baltic regions, the story unfolded very differently. Conquests there weren’t defined by ocean raids, but by a remarkable capacity for canny adaptation. In the territories of today’s Russia, Ukraine and Belarus, the Norse traded the open sea for winding rivers, turning inland waterways into vital thoroughfares of commerce, conflict and state-building. “The rivers are absolutely critical,” explains historian Martyn Whittock, author of Vikings in the East, speaking on the HistoryExtra podcast. “We need to envisage them as the motorways of the early medieval world, which allow people access deep into the heart of the European continent, particularly the east.” When did the Vikings first head east? Archaeological finds from the mid-eighth century (including Scandinavian-style burials in places like Staraya Ladoga, near modern St Petersburg) show that the Norse were already present on the Baltic-Russian frontier before the famous raids on Britain had even begun. These early Norse pioneers were traders as well as warriors. They followed the Neva and Volkhov rivers into the interior, establishing bases like Ladoga and Novgorod. From there, they probed deeper, carrying boats and their cargo overland between river systems. Read more | Norse gods and goddesses: 14 of the most important deities venerated by the Vikings By the ninth century, Norse settlers were establishing footholds from which they could push further inland. “We first see Norse settlements appear in eastern Europe along the southern shores of the Baltic,” says Whittock. “Increasingly they were utilising river systems which flow into the Baltic, and by following them along their courses into what is now northwestern Russia, they could then port ships across gaps in the river systems to connect with other river systems.” Swapping longships for log boats While the famous longships were ideal for crossing seas, they were less suited to being hauled over rapids or dragging across portages. So, in the east, Vikings turned to different vessels. “To start with, we should be thinking of squatter, stronger and broader trading vessels than the dragon-prowed ships of popular imagination,” says Whittock. The Norse also adopted local craft. Archaeological evidence shows they purchased huge unfinished log boats from Finnic and Slavic neighbours, later fitting them with sails. These sturdy ships could handle rapids and were easier to portage than larger ships. Read more | The dark reality of Norse life on the edge And in winter, transport shifted to sledges, which were ideal for gliding across frozen rivers and snowbound plains. “We need to think of sledges, because we always think of summer transport,” says Whittock. “And yet in many of these areas, winter transport on frozen rivers or frozen, snowy landscapes would be on sledges. That's the kind of mental image we need to have: more of a mixed economy of transport.” By log boat or sledge, the Norse moved steadily southwards through modern-day Russia, past today’s Smolensk, into Ukraine, and eventually to Kyiv. That city became the hub of a new and lasting regional power: Kievan Rus, the central hub of the Rus Vikings. Who were the Rus, and where does the name come from? The name ‘Rus’ itself may refer explicitly to this river-faring identity. “It’s interesting that one of the possible word origins for the name ‘Rus’ is from a mixed Finnish, old East Norse word, which means rowers: those who row,” Whittock explains. Before they were the inhabitants of Kievan Rus, they were Vikings of the kind introduced by Whittock, moving along rivers, rowing against currents and hauling boats across land. This eastward expansion would have been impossible without the rivers that stretched across the Eurasian plain like veins. Read more | The truth about Viking berserkers “Those rivers that flow north into the Baltic allowed access well into the heart of Russia. It was then possible to pick up other major river systems that then flow south into Ukraine and towards the Caspian Sea,” Whittock notes. A closer look at the geography of eastern Europe shows the river system that made this possible. The Dnieper linked Novgorod and Smolensk to the Black Sea and Constantinople. The Volga carried Norse merchants towards the Caspian, opening routes to Persia and the Islamic caliphates. These rivers made Scandinavia part of a global economy stretching to Byzantium, Baghdad and beyond. The rise of Rus The Rus settlements steadily grew into a federation of principalities ruled by Scandinavian dynasties but populated mainly by Slavs. Over generations, intermarriage and cultural exchange transformed the Norse elites. They adopted Slavic languages, Byzantine Christianity and local customs. By the late ninth century, leaders like Rurik (credited as founder of the Rus dynasty) and his successors, Oleg and Igor, were consolidating power in Novgorod and Kyiv, extracting tribute from Slavic tribes and expanding their authority through warfare and alliances. By the late 10th century, rulers like Vladimir the Great were more Slavic than Norse in culture, even if their lineage traced back to Scandinavia. The Norse had become the Rus: a distinct identity forged by geography and circumstance. Kyiv emerged as the heart of this world. Its location on the Dnieper made it a natural hub for trade flowing between Scandinavia, Byzantium and the steppe. From here, the rulers of Rus built a power that stretched from the Baltic to the Black Sea. 1066: The battle for England Member exclusive | The year 1066 is the most famous in English history, but there's a lot more to the story than one bloody battle at Hastings. In this four-part series, medievalist Marc Morris talks David Musgrove through the full story of the Norman Conquest. Watch all episodes now A distinct Viking identity: the Rus vs the Icelanders The Rus experience diverged sharply from that of Norse settlers in the west. In Iceland, Vikings recreated a Scandinavian society, carrying their laws, sagas and language with them across the North Atlantic. Isolation preserved their Norse culture in near-pure form. Read more | 10 incredible Viking stories from Norse mythology In eastern Europe, by contrast, the Vikings were absorbed into a much larger Slavic world. Over time, the Norse language faded, replaced by Old East Slavic. Pagan traditions gave way to Byzantine Orthodox Christianity. Norse sagas never took root; instead, the Rus produced chronicles and legal codes in Slavic style. “This began as a Norse Slavic state, but it increasingly became a Slavic state with Norse echoes. There was an awareness of origins and a real awareness of connectivity to the northern world, but by the year 1,000 this was an increasingly a Slavic state,” says Whittock. The Viking story in eastern Europe is one of adaptation and transformation. In the west, Norsemen dominated seas and coastlines. In the east, they turned rivers, frozen or flowing, into a tool of power. In the process, they stopped being only Norse. They became the Rus: a people who built a state undeniably distinct from their cousins in Iceland or Norway. Martyn Whittock was speaking to James Osborne on the HistoryExtra podcast. Listen to the full conversation.
Why does Putin think Ukraine should be Russian? It’s all to do with the Vikings
Russian President Vladimir Putin’s narrative of a shared Russian–Ukrainian origin in the Viking-founded Kievan Rus is having dramatic implications in eastern Europe today. Here’s why the real history might be more complicated than the Russian president says
When Vladimir Putin states that Russians and Ukrainians are “one people”, he’s invoking a very specific vision of history. In essays and speeches, the Russian president has unfurled more than a thousand years of history to argue that modern Ukrainians and Russians share a single origin. “Putin’s claim is that because of a shared origin the Ukrainians and the Russians are one people, and that any division of them into two sovereign states is an artificial modern construct,” explains Martyn Whittock, speaking on the HistoryExtra podcast. Whittock is an author and historian whose recent book, Vikings in the East: From Vladimir the Great to Vladimir Putin – The Origins of a Contested Legacy in Russia and Ukraine, dissects that shared story and its connections to the medieval world of the Viking Age. Read more | Russia-Ukraine crisis: 9 milestone moments in history that explain today’s invasion At the centre of this origin story are the Rus (a particular group of Norse traders and warriors who settled in Eastern Europe and gave their name to both Russia and Belarus), and the towering 10th-century ruler Vladimir the Great, whose conversion to Christianity reshaped the destiny of the region. The Rus: the Vikings who headed east The Vikings are mostly remembered as violent raiders of the lands that lie south or west of Scandinavia: Britain, France, Ireland and Iceland. Yet from the 9th century, another branch of Norse seafarers set out east, rather than west. They navigated the great rivers of Eastern Europe – the Dnieper, the Don, the Volga – using their ships to link the Baltic to the Black Sea and the rich markets of Byzantium. These Norsemen became known as the Rus. “The Norse who came to this Slavic region are described as the Rus, and that’s a name that will run and run. It still exists in the name of Belarus and of course, Russia,” explains Whittock. The Rus were traders and warriors, dealing in furs, honey, wax and enslaved people. They established fortified towns along river routes, often marrying into Slavic elites. Over time they became culturally hybrid: Norse in origin but increasingly Slavic in language, custom and culture. Their most important political centre was Kyiv, which by the 10th century had become the capital of a loose federation of principalities known as Kievan Rus. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2025/09/GettyImages-961794534-e1090b6-e1758281079376.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="An illustration depicts Velikiy Novgorod during the Viking era. As a major trading hub on the river routes between Scandinavia and Byzantium, Novgorod played a crucial role in the development of the Rus’ and the wider Norse presence in Eastern Europe." title="Velikiy Novgorod" /> What was Kievan Rus? Kievan Rus wasn’t a centralised nation state but rather a network of regional centres including Kyiv, Novgorod, Smolensk and Chernihiv, bound together by dynastic ties and tribute. Its rulers belonged to the Rurikid dynasty, descended from the Viking chieftain Rurik. At its height in the 11th century, Kievan Rus stretched from the Baltic to the Black Sea. Trade flowed south to Byzantium and north to Scandinavia. The society was multi-ethnic, comprised of Slavs, Norse, Balts, Finnic peoples and steppe nomads. Read more | Could you survive on the Vikings’ furthest frontier? Here’s the dark reality of Norse life on the edge Kyiv’s wealth and culture gave it prestige, but already the threat of future fragmentation was present: powerful local princes, rival trade hubs and external threats from nomadic raiders were all emerging. Vladimir the Great and the baptism of Rus One of Kyiv’s most celebrated rulers was Vladimir the Great, who lived c958–1015. “In AD 988, a decision was made by Vladimir’s court to convert to Eastern Orthodox Christianity. It was a game changer and of immense historic importance because it allied the Rus with the Eastern Roman empire,” Whittock explains. Vladimir ordered mass baptisms in the River Dnieper. From this point on, the Rus elite looked to Constantinople, capital of the Byzantine empire, for spiritual authority. Read more | The Viking connections to the Byzantine empire This decision had far-reaching consequences. Rus Christianity was Orthodox, not Catholic. Its holy books were written in Old Church Slavonic, not Latin. Its priests and rituals bound the region eastward, and created the notion of Holy Rus: a concept of Russian origins connected to both geography and religion. “We have this highly enhanced religious, national and ethnic character,” says Whittock. And it’s that character that would form the shared basis of Russia and Ukraine and the broader Soviet landscape in eastern Europe. Collapse, Mongol conquest and the rise of Muscovy Kievan Rus never became a lasting empire. In the 12th century, internal rivalries and shifting trade routes weakened it. In the 13th century, Mongol invasions shattered its unity. Power shifted north and east. Novgorod survived as a trading hub, but over time, the newer principality of Muscovy, centred on modern Moscow, ascended in prominence. Its princes cooperated with the Mongol khans, gradually building resources and influence. By the end of the 15th century, Moscow had thrown off Mongol dominance and emerged as the core of a new Russian state. Its rulers claimed continuity with Kievan Rus, insisting that the sacred legacy of Vladimir’s baptism had passed to them. Shared origins but divergent paths Russia, Ukraine and Belarus all trace cultural and linguistic roots back to this early medieval era, and to Kievan Rus. But despite that shared origin, their histories would diverge significantly in the succeeding centuries. Much of western Ukraine came under the control of the Polish–Lithuanian Commonwealth between the 14th and 17th centuries. This exposed Ukrainians to Catholicism, Renaissance ideas and traditions of local autonomy. On the steppes, Cossack hosts developed a reputation for fierce independence, cultivating ideals of freedom and self-rule that became central to Ukrainian identity. Russia remained centred on Muscovy. From there it expanded eastwards, building a vast empire under an increasingly powerful autocracy. The tsars claimed universal authority, drawing church and state tightly together in ways that reinforced centralised control. Read more | Anglo-Saxon conversion: the coming of the cross (at the point of a sword) By the 19th century, the Russian empire sought to assert control over Ukrainian lands through Russification – the policy of imposing Russian language and culture to create cultural unity within the Russian Empire. Ukrainian language was restricted in schools and publishing, and folk culture was suppressed. “Very often the Russians are saying, ‘You’re exactly the same as we are’, and then carrying out Russification, which begs the question, why do you need to Russify if there’s no difference?” Whittock notes. The very act of trying to erase Ukrainian identity underscored its distinctiveness, but Russia succeeded in its aims, and most of Ukraine was absorbed into the Russian Empire. Ukraine in the Soviet century After the Russian Revolution that brought the Russian Empire to its end, Ukraine briefly declared independence in 1917–21 before being incorporated into the Soviet Union. Under Josef Stalin, Ukraine suffered terribly, not least during the Holodomor, the famine of 1932-33 that killed millions. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2025/09/GettyImages-96825291-b1bf3b3-e1758282037342.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="This propaganda poster depicts Joseph Stalin with his arm raised in a gesture of authority and leadership. Such imagery was central to the cult of personality that surrounded Stalin during his rule, presenting him as the guiding force of the Soviet Union." title="Stalin Poster" /> In Soviet ideology, Ukraine was part of the brotherhood of Slavic nations, yet its distinctiveness was tightly controlled. Expressions of Ukrainian nationalism were branded as separatism. At the same time, Ukrainians played a major role in Soviet life, from industry to the military. This Soviet legacy left Ukraine deeply entwined with Russia but also fostered resentment at repeated suppression of national identity. Putin’s use of history In the 21st century, Putin has used the Rus story as a historical anchor for his policies. Following the annexation of Crimea in 2014, he compared the peninsula to Jerusalem, calling it sacred Russian ground where Vladimir the Great had been baptised. “All of these statements are rooted in the origin stories of Kievan Rus and are used to support a narrative by Putin that there is one monolithic Russian nation that has been divided by modern events, but must be brought back together again, if necessary by force,” Whittock observes. By invoking the concept of Holy Rus – the notion of the religious, historic and geographical origin behind both Russia and Ukraine – Putin presents himself and the modern Russian state as a re-unifier, restoring a shared history broken apart by artificial borders. For Whittock, the flaw in Putin’s version of history is its denial of Ukrainian agency. Read more | Did the Cold War ever really end? “Although we are the inheritors of our history, we are not prisoners of our history. We still have agency,” he argues. Putin’s claim that Ukraine is inseparable from Russia rests on a story that begins with Viking adventurers and Vladimir the Great’s baptism. The Rus were Vikings who created a new Norse-Slavic identity and founded the basis of the cultures that became Russia, Belarus and Ukraine. And, by invoking the history of Holy Rus, Putin presents history as a chain binding Ukrainians to Russia. It’s a genuine shared history, but, Whittock argues, it’s not one that should bind the present or future. “Putin denies the agency whilst emphasising the original unification. You need to recognise the reality of origins, absolutely, but you also need to recognise current people’s agency to decide their own trajectory and their own future.” Martyn Whittock was speaking to James Osborne on the HistoryExtra podcast. Listen to the full conversation.
Could you survive on the Vikings’ furthest frontier? Here’s the dark reality of Norse life on the edge
Historian Eleanor Barraclough reveals the brutal challenges faced by Norse settlers in Greenland – a Viking world of fragile farms and endless winters
It’s true that the Vikings were formidable raiders, warriors and explorers – storming monasteries on the coasts of Britain, sailing rivers into the depths of eastern Europe and even journeying as far as North America – all while violently snatching territories and treasure as they went. But it’s also true that this only encapsulates a small aspect of the broader Norse world. The Vikings – those raiders and warriors – were one facet of a culturally and geographically expansive people who set out from the heart of Scandinavia to find wealth and land. That objective took them from Northern Europe to the fringes of the Abbasid Caliphate in the Middle East, to the depths of what would become Russia, and – far across the Atlantic – to Greenland: the ultimate destination of the fearsome Norse chieftain and father of Leif Erikson, Erik the Red. It was late in the 10th century, just before the turn of the milenium, that Erik the Red was exiled from Iceland for his violence. Seeking a new home, he led his followers west to one of the most unforgiving environments in the Norse world: Greenland. A harsh new Norse home For the Norse, Greenland was the furthest edge of the habitable world. Life there was not measured in the frequency of plunder or military glory, but in whether communities could last through freezing winters, scarce resources and constant uncertainty. Speaking on the HistoryExtra podcast, historian Eleanor Barraclough explained how the Norse arrived there in the first place, and what daily life was really like on this harsh frontier. “After being outlawed from Iceland, Erik the Red goes west and he explores the west coast of Greenland,” explains Barraclough. “Erik spends those three years as an outlaw going up and down all the fjords on this west coast, and he names it Greenland because people are more likely to want to settle there if it’s got a good name.” Greenland’s name may have been clever marketing, but the reality was anything but green. The island’s east coast was locked in ice, uninhabitable to all but nomadic hunters. As Erik soon learned, only the west coast, with fjords and small strips of grassland, offered a fragile foothold. Read more | A thousand years ago, the Vikings had a shock encounter with Native Americans that ended in disaster “The east coast is not habitable. It’s very, very icy. The west coast is a different matter … you can just about farm there. You’re very much on the edge of habitable land, but you are still at that edge, not beyond it.” Here, Norse settlers established two main farming regions: the Eastern Settlement, where Erik lived, and the Western Settlement further north. “At the Eastern settlement is a couple of thousand people and a good number of farmsteads,” Barraclough explains. “And then the Western settlement is smaller. There are maybe 80 farmsteads at its height.” <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2025/08/GettyImages-152200768-beac1f5-e1756397805244.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="These are the remains of Brattahlid, the eastern settlement founded by Erik the Red around AD 1000. As the heart of Norse Greenland, it thrived for several centuries — a remote outpost of Viking exploration and adaptation on the edge of the known world." title="Brattahlid, the eastern settlement, founded by Erik the Red" /> Farming at the edge of possibility Early settlers to this west coast of Greenland tried to transplant familiar Scandinavian farming practices. They brought cows, sheep, goats and horses in their ships, and attempted to grow crops such as barley. Archaeologists have found grinding stones that suggest early efforts to cultivate cereals. But Greenland’s climate made arable farming almost impossible. Read more | 8 Viking dates you need to know “They do try and grow crops initially, but it’s not really feasible,” says Barraclough. “It’s just too far north, it’s too remote. The winters are too long and cold and dark for that. For the most part, the Norse Greenlanders don’t see bread on their table.” Instead, livestock provided the basis of survival. During short summers, grass from fjord valleys was cut and stored as hay to feed animals through the winter. Cows supplied milk, sheep and goats provided wool and dairy products, while meat and hides were used sparingly. Families relied on butter, cheese and preserved dairy to survive the dark months – always hoping their fodder stores would last until spring. Vikings hunting the Arctic As time went on, farming alone could not sustain the settlements. Hunting and fishing became increasingly important. Seal meat and fat provided vital calories during the winter, with animals caught on sea ice or during migration. Reindeer offered venison and hides, while walrus supplied not only meat but also ivory tusks – a commodity so valuable it was exported to markets as far away as England. This delicate balance was constantly under threat. A failed fodder harvest or poor hunting season could tip households into famine. And crucially, unlike in Iceland or Norway, Greenlanders had no close neighbours to turn to for help. Life on the farmstead Daily life revolved around farmsteads built from stone, turf and timber. These were extended communities of families, workers and thralls: enslaved men and women who remain largely invisible in written sources but were central to Norse society. “The thralls, they are so often invisible, but there are a lot of them, and they’re usually doing the nastiest, coldest, dirtiest, most dangerous jobs in any farmstead,” Barraclough says. Read more | What was life like for Viking women? Thralls tended animals in freezing conditions, hauled fodder, cut turf and accompanied dangerous hunts. Their labour, though rarely acknowledged, underpinned the survival of the entire settlement. To live as a Viking Age thrall in Norse Greenland was to have one of the toughest lives across the entire Norse world. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2025/08/GettyImages-152204548-1-9d260f7-e1756397984165.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="This illumination from the Icelandic Flateyjarbók shows King Harald Fairhair freeing the giant Dofri, who, in Norse folklore, becomes his foster father. Blending legend and history, the manuscript reflects how Icelandic scribes preserved royal sagas and heroic tales in richly illustrated form." title="Illumination from the Icelandic manuscript Flateyjarbok which shows King Harold Fine Hair cutting the fetters from the giant Dofri who was to become his foster father in folklore" /> Winter: the ultimate Norse enemy Summer in the fjords could be deceptively pleasant, with green fields and grazing livestock. But winter was the true test of life in Greenland. “Where you find most North Greenland farms, you will find green grassy fields. But the problem is the winters are very cold, very long, very dark and very icy … longer, darker, colder even than in Iceland,” says Barraclough. Read more | The Norse gods and goddesses you need to know Unlike Iceland, where communities could trade or travel during hard times with the not-so-distant Norway, a Norse heartland, Greenland’s isolation made mistakes deadly. Firewood was scarce, hay ran short, and livestock could starve in barns. Families endured months of darkness, surviving on dried seal meat, dairy products and whatever stores had been put aside. Survival on the edge of the world Ultimately, Erik the Red’s ‘Greenland’ was more an act of branding than of accurate description. For the Norse who followed him, survival here demanded a constant balancing act between fragile farmland, risky hunting and the uncertain rewards of trade. For centuries they endured, maintaining links to Europe through ivory and occasional voyages, even as their settlements clung to the limits of habitable land. But theirs was far from the Viking world of raids and conquest. It was a world of ceaseless struggle against climate and geography – where winters were the harshest enemies, thralls bore the toughest burdens and mere survival was the greatest reward. 1066: The battle for England Member exclusive | The year 1066 is the most famous in English history, but there's a lot more to the story than one bloody battle at Hastings. In this four-part series, medievalist Marc Morris talks David Musgrove through the full story of the Norman Conquest. Watch all episodes now This article is based on an interview with Eleanor Barraclough, speaking to James Osborne on the HistoryExtra podcast. Listen to the full conversation.
Tom Licence introduces the medieval monarch whose death led to England's Norman takeover – but whose life also left a significant mark on history
Edward the Confessor, England’s penultimate Anglo-Saxon king, has long been remembered as a saintly, pious monarch – but some sources would have us believe he was also a weak ruler whose indecision paved the way for the Norman Conquest. Is that fair on Edward? And if not, how should we understand him? As new BBC Drama King and Conqueror hits the screens, Emily Briffett speaks to historian Tom Licence to explore the life of this medieval monarch – from his early years in exile and ambitions for the crown, to the subsequent political challenges he faced that ultimately shaped the fate of England.
Emma of Normandy: not just a two-time queen consort of England
Emma of Normandy was queen consort to two of England’s best known pre-Conquest kings, Æthelred the Unready and Cnut the Great. But she was also a savvy political player who came into her own as queen mother, writes Dr Cat Jarman
Emma of Normandy is best-known as being queen consort to two kings – Æthelred the Unready and Cnut the Great – and the mother of two more, Harthacnut and Edward the Confessor. She was the daughter of Richard I (the Fearless) of Normandy and the Danish-descended Gunnor. She is also a pivotal character in King and Conqueror, the BBC's Norman Conquest drama, which paints Emma as a dominating force over her son King Edward – which leads to a very ahistorical demise – and in Netflix's Vikings: Valhalla, where she is portrayed as a politically-savvy queen wielding quiet power in the English court, often working to subvert the machinations of the ever-grasping Earl Godwin. Who was Emma of Normandy? Emma was one of nine children and most likely born in the AD 980s. A daughter of the Norman dukes, she was the great-granddaughter of the Viking warrior Rollo, the founder of Normandy who hailed from either Norway or Denmark. This made her of Scandinavian ancestry on both sides of the family. She was also the great-aunt of William the Conqueror. In the words of Godfrey, prior of Winchester’s cathedral monastery, writing in the 11th century: “She had kings as sons and kings as husbands; she shone forth in the glory of her progeny of kings; she excelled in virtue even the ranks of her glorious ancestors.” Emma of Normandy's first marriage: Æthelred the Unready In 1002, probably aged in her late teens or early 20s, Emma was sent to England to marry King Æthelred, as his second wife. The marriage was clearly a strategic one, aiming to strengthen an alliance between England and Normandy in light of harrowing attacks on both English and Norman shores by Scandinavian raiders. Æthelred had apparently accused Emma’s brother, Duke Richard II, of harbouring the Vikings and enabling their attacks, and the marriage was designed to ensure his allegiance. Read more | Aethelflaed: who was the warrior queen who crushed the Vikings? Their union was an unusual one, as although several English princesses had been married off to French and German rulers historically, no English king had married a foreign wife for almost 150 years. Upon her arrival in England, Emma was given the name ‘Ælfgifu’. The marriage resulted in three children: two sons, Edward (later known as Edward the Confessor) and Alfred, and a daughter, Godgifu. Few sources say much about Emma’s political activity in these years, and it seems her role was mainly one of being a wife and a mother: the most common description of her at the time was as the conlaterana regis: “she who is at the King’s side”. This first decade of her career was the one in which she was the least powerful, and one source, William of Malmesbury, suggests that she and her husband were never on good terms. The England that Emma found herself at the beginning of the 11th century was one marked by ongoing trouble and threats of Scandinavian attacks. In 1013, this came to a head when the Dane Swein Forkbeard successfully invaded England. Emma and her children were sent into exile in Normandy, later followed by her husband. Swein’s rule of England was to be short as he died the following year, and a messy two years of political disputes ensued even after Æthelred was restored to the throne. Emma of Normandy's second marriage: Cnut the Great In 1016, Æthelred died. More turbulence was to follow, and later that year England fell to Swein Forkbeard’s son, the Danish King Cnut. The following year, he is reported to have asked for Emma to be fetched to be his wife. Emma became queen of England, once again, but this time also of Denmark and Norway. As with her first marriage, this was a strategic one as it cemented Cnut’s role as king of England. Taking the widow of one of his predecessors as his own wife no doubt helped mark his superiority. At the same time, the union might be seen as symbolising friendship and alliance. While it is unclear what Emma herself really thought of it at the beginning, she later stressed that not only did the marriage bring peace but it was an equal union that she entered into with her own consent. Read more | Cnut’s invasion of England: setting the scene for the Norman conquest Her ancestry may well have affected her feelings. After all, her mother was the daughter of recent Danish settlers in Normandy, and northern origins were a key part of Norman self-identity. Emma likely spoke Danish from childhood and apart from her family connections, she was clearly important to Cnut – not least because of her knowledge of English politics. It seems likely that the partnership between the two grew over time, helped by the fact that they were more or less of the same age. In a document from the New Minster in Winchester, illustrating the monastery’s loyal benefactors, the two are depicted either side of an altar as a double act. This depiction – one of several – emphasises Emma’s political importance. Their marriage lasted until Cnut’s death in 1035. Emma of Normandy's children As well as the two sons and one daughter Emma had with Æthelred, she went on to have two more children with Cnut: Harthacnut and Gunnhild. Cnut also had two sons by his first wife, Ælfgifu (confusingly, the same name that was given to Emma), Swein and Harold Harefoot. At the time of Cnut’s death, Swein had been sent to rule in Norway along with his mother, while Harthacnut was ruling in Denmark. That left Harold as the only of Cnut’s sons still in England. Emma remained at Winchester, where Cnut’s military household was based, and was left in charge of the Royal Treasury and in a position of power. Read more | Norman women: the power behind the thrones Harthacnut was the legitimate heir and should have ascended the English throne, but he could not return from Denmark to claim the crown so Harold ruled in his stead as either regent or co-ruler. Competition for the throne was to continue. Emma’s sons with Æthelred – Edward and Alfred – had been in exile in Normandy and returned to England in 1036. Alfred was soon killed, after being captured and blinded under suspicious circumstances, and Edward may have briefly joined his mother in Winchester before returning again to Normandy. Eventually, Harold was recognised as sole king in 1037. Emma was exiled to Flanders, where she stayed with a distant relative, Count Baldwin and his wife Adela. But her ambitions for herself and her sons remained. Read more | Are women at the heart of the action in the Norman Conquest? Emma of Normandy as England’s queen mother Emma’s career in England can be divided into three distinct parts: the first two relating to her marriages, and the third to this period after Cnut’s death. Now, Emma worked to manoeuvre her sons into kingship, taking an active part in the political sphere as queen mother. When Harold died in 1040, Emma returned from Flanders and Harthacnut finally took the throne. The role as queen mother was clearly an important one, and she was recognised as an authority: she is listed as mater regis in witness lists during these years. Emma may have learnt about queenship from her mother, Gunnor, who was later hailed as the matriarch of the Norman aristocracy, dubbed the ‘mother of the dynasty’ in the 12th century. Harthacnut ruled for only two years, with Emma by his side, until his death in 1042. He was succeeded by his half-brother Edward. But the new king appears to have turned against his mother, arriving in Winchester a few months after his coronation and taking away her treasures of silver and gold, as well as most of the land she owned. Emma was allowed to stay in Winchester and eventually regained her position at court, though without her former status. The precise reasons for this are unclear: Emma was later accused of having been too harsh on Edward; of offering aid to Magnus of Norway for an invasion of England; and even of having had an affair with Ælfwine, the bishop of Winchester. It seems none were true. Edward most likely wanted to reduce her political involvement back to a simple status as the widow of the former kings, leaving him to rule independently. As far as we know, she lived the rest of her life in Winchester. What was Emma of Normandy’s legacy? Our actual information about Emma’s life is sparse, Much of what we know comes from the Encomium Emmae reginae, the Praise of Queen Emma. This narrative was written down in 1041/2 by a monk from St Bertin, in what is now France, and was commissioned by Emma herself. The Encomium, however, is not a straightforward biography, but an account – modified in several later versions – of the role she played in English politics during the reign of Cnut and his successors. A famous illustration shows her seated on a throne, a kneeling character handing the book to her, with her sons Harthacnut and Edward watching from the wings. The Encomium conjures the position she was in at the height of her power, aimed at her sons and written to influence the future. Despite her remarkable political career, her best known legacy is no doubt her Norman link to William the Conqueror, enabling the events of 1066 to run their course. In the words of 12th-century historian Henry of Huntingdon, describing her marriage: “From this union… the Normans were justified according to the law of peoples, in both claiming and gaining possession of England.” How and when did Emma of Normandy die? Emma died of an unknown cause on 6 March 1052. She was buried next to Cnut and Harthacnut in Winchester Cathedral. In 2019, a team from the University of Bristol announced that among the 1,300 bones mixed up in six mortuary chests from Winchester Cathedral were the remains of a woman who matched both the date and age of death of Emma. There are no records of other women of similar status buried there at the time and DNA work is in progress in an attempt to identify the remains more definitively. 1066: The battle for England Member exclusive | The year 1066 is the most famous in English history, but there's a lot more to the story than one bloody battle at Hastings. In this four-part series, medievalist Marc Morris talks David Musgrove through the full story of the Norman Conquest. Watch all episodes now Dr Cat Jarman is an archaeologist, broadcaster and author of River Kings: A New History of the Vikings from Scandinavia to the Silk Roads (HarperCollins, 2021) King and Conqueror is streaming on BBC iPlayer now. For more content like this, check out the best historical movies of all time as chosen by historians and ranked by you, history TV shows and films to stream tonight, and our picks of the new history TV and radio released in the UK this week
Francis Young shares the surprisingly long story of the non-Christian parts of Europe
Christianity came to dominate Europe in the Middle Ages. However, some parts of Europe remained pagan until very recently. So how did non-Christian peoples survive, and prosper, in parts of Europe for centuries after most of the continent had adopted the Church? Francis Young, folklorist and historian of religion and belief, explains all to David Musgrove. Francis Young is the author of Silence of the Gods: The Untold History of Europe's Last Pagan Peoples (Cambridge University Press, 2025). Buy it now from Amazon
A thousand years ago, the Vikings had a shock encounter with Native Americans that ended in disaster
When Old Norse explorers reached North America, they made history. But their brief, violent encounter with its indigenous peoples shows how cultural collisions could end in chaos. Historian and Viking expert Eleanor Barraclough explains the story
When Leif Erikson and his fellow Norse explorers first sighted the forested shores of what is now northeastern Canada, they became the first Europeans known to set foot in North America. This was near the turn of the first millennium in AD 1000, centuries before North America was ‘discovered’ by Christopher Columbus. But what followed was neither a tale of conquest nor colonisation. This was to be a short, tense and ultimately doomed instance of trans-Atlantic cultural contact. “According to the Norse sagas, the expeditions from Greenland to North America meet the indigenous people who live in these parts,” explains historian and Old Norse expert Eleanor Barraclough, speaking on the HistoryExtra podcast. This unprecedented encounter brought together peoples separated by thousands of miles and shaped by different environments, technologies and belief systems. And it began, as many tales of Norse adventure do, with violence and exile. Exiles in search of new lands The story of the journey by the Norse settlers of Greenland, to the shores of what is now Canada, begins with Erik the Red. The father of Leif Erikson, Erik was a man whose temper and penchant for murder had seen him outlawed from both Norway and, later in his life, Iceland, where he had been a prominent figure. Read more | The secrets of the Viking Great Army Banished, Erik sailed west from Iceland in search of new lands. With a small fleet of ships and his followers in tow, he landed on Greenland, creating official Norse settlements on it around AD 985. Barraclough explains that for a volatile but powerful – and ambitious – character like Erik the Red, the allure of Greenland was partly in the promise of the unknown. “I think, Erik, on a personal level, must have been very charismatic. Dangerous and murderous, but charismatic,” she says. “To [explore across the Atlantic] requires a Wild West mentality – and so someone like Erik would be the perfect person to settle somewhere like Greenland, because it's going into the unknown,” explains Barraclough. Greenland offered land and space but, it turned out, little else. “Even at its height, Erik’s settlement only has a population in the very low thousands,” says Barraclough. Read more | 10 incredible Viking stories from Norse mythology The harsh winters and limited resources ultimately prompted further expeditions westward from Greenland, again into unknown territory, in search of more land. The Norse sagas describe that it was Erik’s son, Leif, who led these expeditions. But what was he searching for? As Barraclough puts it, “It does look like resources are important. A sense of adventure is important, a sense of discovery, but also the possibility of new settlement.” <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2025/07/GettyImages-542354713-939e4c1-e1753791578991.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="This illustration depicts the arrival of the first Norse settlers in Greenland under Erik the Red. Driven by exile and exploration, Erik led a fleet from Iceland to establish one of the westernmost outposts of the Viking world." title="Erik the Red's fleet" /> The voyage to Vinland Setting off from the Western shores of Greenland, Leif Erikson’s expedition likely reached the coast of Labrador – which the Norse called Markland, or ‘forest land’ – before sailing further south to what they named Vinland, believed to be the northern tip of Newfoundland. Read more | The truth about Viking beserkers The sagas describe Leif discovering a landscape rich in timber and resources, a sharp contrast to the rocky, forbidding coastline of Greenland. But the Norse certainly weren’t alone. First contact – and first trade Soon after landing, they encountered the indigenous peoples of the region, likely ancestors of the Beothuk or other Algonquian-speaking groups. The Norse explorers called these people the ‘Skraelings’, which Barraclough translates as “wretched ones” or “puny ones”. But despite the derogatory name, according to the evidence from the Norse sagas, the first interactions between the Norse and the native American communities were initially peaceful. Read more | Norse gods and goddesses: the deities of the Vikings “It starts off fairly amicably,” Barraclough says. “They're exchanging goods, trading dairy products for cloth, for skins and for pelts.” The scenes are striking in their familiarity. Much like later European explorers, the Norse initially engaged in cautious barter. But the similarities don’t end there – nor do they offer much cause for optimism. From trade to bloodshed Despite the peaceful start, the relationship soon soured and hostility flared. “Eventually the relationship breaks down,” Barraclough explains. “The Norse kill some of the people living there, and then obviously there are retaliations.” Read more | The legend of the Jomsvikings Quickly, this burgeoning relationship between two distinct cultures from across the Atlantic descended into a spiral of retaliatory violence and bloodshed. “That’s the point where they say: we can’t set up home there,” says Barraclough. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2025/07/GettyImages-520726071-2-285f5d7-e1753791675209.jpg" width="1500" height="1000" alt="In this painting by Christian Krohg (1852–1925), Norse explorer Leif Erikson stands at the prow as he approaches the shores of North America, centuries before Columbus." title="Leiv Eiriksson discovers America. Artist: Krohg, Christian (1852-1925)" /> Outnumbered and out of place The Vikings soon abandoned the relative riches of the land they’d ‘discovered’ to return home to Greenland, after effectively being chased off by the native inhabitants. However, Leif Erikson wasn’t the only Norse explorer to attempt settlement. The sagas recount multiple expeditions to Vinland, involving other children of Erik’s, but these later expeditions to the edge of the North American continent shared the same fate – cut short by violence, a lack of supplies, and not enough support from the broader Norse world at large. Read more | The life of Freydis Eiriksdottir Unlike earlier Viking expeditions into Europe that also collided violently with the inhabitants of richer lands, these Greenlandic explorers lacked the numbers and infrastructure to impose control on this new and resource-rich region, or to assimilate into it. “They've just gone so far beyond what is culturally recognisable to them that there's nothing to assimilate into,” says Barraclough. “The numbers aren't there, the backup isn't there, but also that cultural familiarity isn't there either.” Why nothing lasted Despite their bold explorations – first to Greenland and then on from Greenland itself – Vikings never established a lasting presence in North America. Ultimately, Erik’s settlement of Greenland wouldn’t last either. As the Viking Age drew to a close across Europe, and after the failed expeditions to North America, the Greenlanders became increasingly isolated from their kin in the east. Over centuries the Greenland colony shrank away, eventually dissipating entirely. Read more | What was life like for Viking women? “Life gets harder and harder for the Greenlanders. It looks like it's a fizzle rather than a bang in terms of how Norse Greenland comes to an end. But we know that by around AD 1500 they're gone.” Unlike so many other instances from the history of the Vikings and their Norse colonies, the Greenlandic Norse explorers found a land – and a people – where they were unable to leave lasting influence. They journeyed to the edge of the known world, and beyond it, but what – and who – they found there decidedly rejected them. The Vikings | A short course from HistoryExtra Academy Member exclusive | Join Professor Ryan Lavelle for our four-week course on the Viking period, covering everything from trading and raiding, to daily life. Explore the course now This article is based on an interview with Eleanor Barraclough, speaking to James Osborne on the HistoryExtra podcast. Listen to the full conversation.
The Merovingians: everything you wanted to know
Everything you wanted to know about history (podcast series)
Professor James Palmer answers listener questions on the long-haired kings who ruled a proto-France in the wake of the western Roman empire's collapse
Professor James Palmer guides us through the 300-year reign of the Merovingians, the Frankish dynasty whose legacy helped birth the very idea of France. Speaking to Kev Lochun, he explores how they used violence, myth, and immaculate hair to maintain power – until the pope brought the dynasty to its knees.