The first Viking raiders came to Anglo-Saxon shores in search of plunder, but later Danish armies wanted more. After decades of marauding warfare, a full-scale invasion began in 866—an assault that has rightly been called a blitzkrieg.4 Northumbria fell in 867, and, according to legend, its king was tortured and killed. East Anglia was next to go, with the martyrdom of King Edmund. And in 876, Mercia’s ruler fled to Rome, rather than face the Danish juggernaut. By 878, only Alfred’s kingdom, Wessex, remained.
Born into this maelstrom, Alfred saw four elder brothers rise to power, only to die in the fight for survival. In the year 870, the young prince forestalled the Danes in battle; but the victory, sealed with oaths and a fortune in gifts, was short-lived. Eight years later, the Danish warlord Guthrum, in a surprise attack over Twelfth Night, captured Alfred’s royal hall at Chippenham. From that vantage, Guthrum had a base from which to secure control of Wessex, frightening and extorting the people into submission.
With his nation in panic, Alfred retreated to a nearby marshy area, quietly regrouped his forces, and, in a surprise attack of his own, trapped Guthrum in the very same hall. Then Alfred did something radical: Rather than repeat the failed strategy of gifts and peace oaths, and rather than incite further violence by torture and execution, Alfred offered to spare Guthrum and honor his dominion in East Anglia, if the Danish warlord would convert to Christianity. And so The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle records that Guthrum, with 30 ranking men, attended a twelve-day christening event, in which Alfred raised his enemy from the font as his own godson. If Alfred’s gesture was the Marshall Plan of the Dark Ages, the real miracle is: It worked. Though long notorious for oath-breaking, the Danes essentially honored the treaty forged with Alfred—affording Wessex just enough stability to fortify, rebuild, and flower in renaissance.5
Alfred is rightly credited with preserving the unique legacy of Christian Anglo- Saxon culture; yet equally impressive were his contributions to that legacy. Aspiring to be the King David of his nation, Alfred personally translated key Biblical and theological texts into English (a legacy the English Reformation would later claim as precedent). These texts reveal much about this extraordinary leader. While Alfred the man is a figure masked in legend, Alfred the king vigorously argued that the affairs of this world, although apparently governed by Chance, were ultimately ruled by God. Thus, he based his writs of military, civil, and moral governance on Biblical wisdom, which was for Alfred the only sure foundation for nations and men.
And yet, for all his piety, Alfred was a man of this world. While rejecting arrogance and avarice as the natural vices of the powerful, Alfred openly valued power: He honored the heroic virtues of loyalty and fortitude as essential for the realm’s defense; he valued wealth as a means of governance through gift-giving; and he found in humility the only right ambition, yoked to the service of God.