Who was Edmund the Headless?

The story of East Anglia's most talked about King.

June 01, 2025

Alright?

As is often the case with this newsletter, today we’re going back in time.

But never have we gone back as far as we will today. Our journey takes us from the warm, comforting embrace of a solid, somewhat reliable historical record and into a time when only a few people (mainly those with an agenda) could actually write.

That, combined with the Vikings’ rather inconsiderate disregard for anything unViking, means a lot of this newsletter is based on anecdote, legend and hearsay.

But hopefully that won’t make it any less interesting.

It’s time for the gruesome story of Edmund the Martyr. Or as I like to call him, Edmund the Headless.

Teenage Kicks.

In the 800s, England was divided into separate kingdoms. Depending on what you read (Wikipedia vs BBC Bitesize, for example), you’ll find anything between four and seven kingdoms listed.

If S Club has taught us anything, it’s that the best things come in packs of seven, so I’ll give you the seven kingdoms listed on Wikipedia:

East Anglia, Mercia, Northumbria, Kent, Essex, Sussex, and Wessex.

At the age of just 14, Edmund became the king of East Anglia. No pressure, mate.

He ruled for nearly 15 years, just in time for the Vikings to show up uninvited. According to the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle (which I can only assume was like a primitive version of the EDP, but with less clickbait), the Great Heathen Army* invaded East Anglia in 869.

Whether Edmund was killed in battle (small chance), executed against his will by the Danes (big chance), or sacrificed himself in the name of his Christian faith (fat chance) is unknown. But the story that became widely circulated is known, and it’s pretty mental.

*You have to hand it to the Vikings - their branding was on point. The Great Heathen Army is a name that wins you battles before you even have to draw a sword.

Edmund the Martyr (brace yourself).

The story goes that the Vikings tied Edmund to a tree and used him for target practice because he refused to renounce his Christian faith and bend the proverbial knee.

Edmund having a mare.

Arrows first, followed by his beheading. His head was then yeeted into the forest like a grisly medieval frisbee.

But the best part? When his followers came to retrieve his remains, they couldn’t find his head until they heard a voice crying, "Here, here, here!"

They followed the sound and discovered a wolf gently guarding the head between its paws. The head was then miraculously reattached to the body. It’s unclear what happened after that, but the story was enough to give Edmund a cult-like status.

Coins were minted in his honour, and the church canonised him, bestowing upon him the much-coveted saintly status. According to legend, he immediately updated his LinkedIn profile to reflect these developments.

Where to bury a bloke called Edmund?

It’s a head-scratcher, this one. Where on Earth do you bury such a legendary figure? If only there were a place in the East Anglian region that would be befitting of burying someone called Edmund.

Oh wait.

Note: It wasn’t called Bury St Edmunds until after the fact.

It’s not known precisely where Edmund’s body was buried, but we know it’s somewhere underneath Bury St Edmunds.

Hence why it’s called Bury St Edmunds.

There’s evidence of Edmund’s legacy much closer to Norwich, too. Caistor St Edmund is also named after the young king, and it’s a testament to his impact that the church there, called St Edmund’s Church, was dedicated to Edmund despite being built in the fourteenth century.

You’ll also find a St Edmund’s Church in Norwich itself. It’s the one on Fishergate (near the doctor’s surgery), and it bears a plaque that should make plenty of sense now that you’ve read this newsletter.

The Secret Section

It’s hard to underestimate just how deified St Edmund was.

The reason churches were built in his honour long after his death is that, until 1350, he was actually the patron saint of England.

Unbelievably, there are still active campaigns to have Edmund’s patron saint status reinstated. Check out this petition on the UK Government website from 2015:

Devastated that it had to end early.

It only managed 29 signatories, but clearly the person who created it was incredibly passionate about the cause. I can only assume their birthday was on 20th November.

In 2013, the Greene King brewery launched a campaign of their own that was covered in the national news. I can’t possibly think of a reason why Greene King, based in Bury St Edmunds, would have such a vested interest in Edmund’s legacy.

I think I’ve finally got the tech right, which means, if you haven’t yet secured two referrals using your unique sharing link, you should be seeing this, along with your unique link in the section below.

Remember, as soon as two people use your link to sign up to Secret Norwich, you’ll get access to the Secret Section. This one shares the story of the bizarre (and quite amusing) campaigns to reinstate Edmund as England’s patron saint.

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See you next Sunday,

Secret Norwich.