...and then it all stops. All of it.

Note: this was originally published in Weighted Tangents, my Substack newsletter, which you can subscribe to here.

You’re primed and you’re prepped and abused and adored and harassed and worshipped and then it all stops. All of it. We even age out of the bad things like being fetishized or diminished or talked down to. —Sam Fox, Better Things

A strange thing happened once I hit 40: men stopped brushing off my thoughts and ideas, and began treating me as a peer. While I'm still occasionally belittled or ignored, it's become the exception rather than the rule. It's as if I've traded in decades of being an object for the only thing I've ever wanted: to be taken seriously.

This desire isn't a new phenomenon. As Dr. Janega points out in The Middle Ages: A Graphic History, "We also ignore medieval women because medieval men did. Texts written by and about women circulated less and survive in smaller numbers. The author Christine de Pizan (September 1364 – c. 1430) lamented how she had to beg for respect from her male peers."

It's quite remarkable then that we know anything at all about Æthelflæd (c. 870 – 12 June 918), with surviving documentation indicating that she was well-respected not only as a medieval general, but as the Lady of Mercia, a Queen in her own right. Æthelflæd is portrayed in popular culture as the warrior queen, swinging a sword in battle while trapped in a loveless, abusive marriage with a man who schemes to have her assassinated—all of which is, to the best of our knowledge, a complete fabrication.

While the role of a historical fiction author is to embellish the facts, tell a story, and to entertain readers, whether or not the story is educational or strictly adheres to the facts is left to individual interpretation. Which is precisely where I am stuck in terms of starting my short stories, because when I'm being honest with myself, I know that much of my motivation stems from wanting to rescue Æthelflæd from how she is portrayed in shows such as The Last Kingdom.

The danger then is in swinging the counterbalance too far and creating a character without flaws, a character that is the embodiment of perfection and beyond reproach. A character that no one in their right mind would be interested in reading about. And so I struggle with the tension of wanting to be right—to represent Æthelflæd exactly as she was, however impossible that may be—and the fact that I am able to manufacture her as a character in whatever way moves me.

"Poet Elinor Wilner has joked about rewriting the Bible in her poems. Pretty arrogant behavior, right? Except that arrogance is part of the equation. We aren't writers to be timid. If playing God scares you, there are other professions" —Richard Russo, In Defense of Omniscience

When I think about Æthelflæd, I wonder what her childhood must have been like, how she spoke to people, what she thought about in the quiet moments of her day, how she walked and how she styled her hair, who her friends were and what they talked about, where she learned to fight and lead great armies of men, and what she did when she found herself with extra time on her hands. There's no one I can interview about this, and if she kept a journal or had a biography written about her it is lost to time. And so the closest I can get is to read about the lives of women in these times—more of which I'll share in the coming months.

But right now I need to start narrowing down the short story topics for the writing workshop I'm taking this summer. I've been pulling on various research threads, and am particularly interested in the idea that Judith—an Old English poem found in the same manuscript as Beowulf, detailing the story of a woman who protects her people against foreign invasion—was either written as an homage to Æthelflæd, or was commissioned by Æthelflæd herself as a means of managing her public image. There's so much uncertainty around this that it opens up a multitude of storytelling angles, and could make for a fantastic novel.

Other ideas I've been toying with include:

—Æthelflæd in the Somerset marshes: in January 878 King Alfred fled his home, either because he had been deposed by his own people or there was a Viking attack, and escaped to the Somerset marshes with a handful of his household guard. Whether or not he took his family with him is unknown, but after a series of lethal hit and run raids on the Danes and an epic amount of diplomacy, Alfred emerged victorious at the Battle of Edington later that year and reclaimed his throne. If we assume Æthelflæd was with him in the marshes, she would have been 7 or 8 years old—what did she see, and what does this comeback story look like when told through her eyes?

—Æthelflæd sending men over the Welsh border: a Mercian abbot and his companions had been sent to Wales under the protection of Æthelflæd, only to be brutally murdered. Wasting no time, Æthelflæd led or sent an army into Wales, demolished the crannog, and captured the Queen and royal court. This is said to be one of Æthelflæd's more impetuous and petty moves, and could prove fertile ground to explore her flaws.

—Æthelflæd at Chester: Æthelflæd had granted Danes lands near Chester, contingent on it being a peaceful settlement. The Danes eventually grew restless with this arrangement and began to attack the city. Æthelflæd rode north and sprung a trap: while some of her forces were fighting the Danes in front of the city of Chester, she hid the rest of her forces behind the walls. As the forces were pushed back into the city, the gates were shut behind the invading Danes and ambushed by Æthelflæd's forces. The Danes sought protection under their shields, only to have hot ale and beehives thrown down on them. This is a stunning military strategy, and I've been thinking how it could be used to also flashback to Æthelflæd's relationship with her husband and father, and how she developed the skills in both military strategy and leadership.

—Æthelflæd building burhs: in conjunction with her brother, King Edward, Æthelflæd built burhs—fortified settlements—along the western and northern borders of Mercia, a strategy originally implemented by their father, Alfred the Great. The aspect of this that I'm most interested in is her relationship with both her father and brother, and how that led to her commitment to the creation of a unified England.

Until next week!
xo