When Oswald departed to the kingdom of heaven, his brother Oswy, a young man of about thirty, succeeded to his earthly throne and ruled for twenty-eight troubled years. He was attacked both by the pagan Mercians, who had already killed his brother, and also by his own son Alchfrid and his nephew Ethelwald, son of his brother and predecessor. In the year of our Lord 644, the second year of Oswy’s reign, the most reverend father Paulinus, formerly Bishop of York and subsequently Bishop of Rochester, died on the tenth of October, after an episcopate lasting nineteen years, two months, and twenty-one days. He was buried in the sacristy of the church of the blessed Apostle Andrew, which had been founded and built in Rochester by King Ethelbert. In his place Archbishop Honorius consecrated Ithamar, a man of Kent, but as worthy and learned as his predecessors.
During the first part of his reign, Oswy shared the royal dignity with Oswin, who came of Edwin’s royal line and was son of the above-mentioned Osric. This prince, who was a man of great holiness and piety, ruled the province of Deira most prosperously for seven years and was deeply loved by all. But even with him Oswy, who ruled the province of Bernicia, that is, the northern part of the Transhumbrian people, could not live peaceably; and when their differences grew more acute, he most treacherously murdered him. For, when the kings had raised armies against each other, Oswin realized that his opponent’s forces were far stronger than his own, and decided not to risk an engagement but to await a more favourable opportunity. So he disbanded the army that he had raised at Wilfaresdun, that is, Wilfar’s Hill, ten miles north-west of the village of Cataract,1 and sent all his men to their homes. He himself, accompanied by a single trusted soldier named Tondhere, went back and lay concealed in the house of the nobleman Hunwald, whom he regarded as his greatest friend. Alas, it was far otherwise: for Hunwald betrayed Oswin and his man to Oswy, who amid universal disgust ordered his commander Ethelwin to put them both to death. This crime took place on the twentieth of August at In-Getlingum2 in the ninth year of his reign, and here at a later date, in atonement for this crime, a monastery was built in which prayers were to be offered to God daily for the souls of the two kings, both slayer and slain alike.
King Oswin was a man of handsome appearance and lofty stature, pleasant in speech and courteous in manner. He was generous to high and low alike, and soon won the affection of everyone by his regal qualities of mind and body, so that nobles came from almost every province to enter his service. But among his other especial endowments of virtue and moderation the greatest was what one may describe as the singular blessing of humility, of which a single instance will be sufficient.
He had given Bishop Aidan a very fine horse, in order that he could ride whenever he had to cross a river or undertake any difficult or urgent journey, although the bishop ordinarily travelled on foot. Not long afterwards, when a poor man met the bishop and asked for alms, the bishop immediately dismounted and ordered the horse with all its royal trappings to be given to the beggar; for he was most compassionate, a protector of the poor and a father to the wretched. When this action came to the king’s ears, he asked the bishop as they were going in to dine: ‘My lord bishop, why did you give away the royal horse which was necessary for your own use? Have we not many less valuable horses or other belongings which would have been good enough for beggars, without giving away a horse that I had specially selected for your personal use?’ The bishop at once answered, ‘What are you saying, Your Majesty? Is this child of a mare more valuable to you than this child of God?’ At this they went in to dinner, and the bishop sat down in his place; but the king, who had come in from hunting, stood warming himself by the fire with his attendants. As he stood by the fire, the king turned over in his mind what the bishop had said; then suddenly unbuckling his sword and handing it to a servant, he impulsively knelt at the bishop’s feet and begged his forgiveness, saying: ‘I will not refer to this matter again, nor will I enquire how much of our bounty you give away to God’s children.’ The bishop was deeply moved, and immediately stood up and raised him to his feet, assuring him of his high regard and begging him to sit down to his food without regrets. At the bishop’s urgent request, the king sat down and began to be merry; but Aidan on the contrary grew so sad that he began to shed tears. His chaplain asked him in his own language, which the king and his servants did not understand, why he wept. Aidan replied: ‘I know that the king will not live very long; for I have never before seen a humble king. I feel that he will soon be taken from us, because this nation is not worthy of such a king.’ Not very long afterwards, as I have related, the bishop’s foreboding was borne out by the king’s death. And Bishop Aidan himself was taken from this world only eleven days after his beloved king, and received the eternal reward of his labours from our Lord on the thirty-first of August 651.