What this song renders
The marriage was a treaty. In the 990s Viking fleets raiding England had been using Norman ports, and Æthelred and Richard II of Normandy had reason to close that door. Emma was the price and the seal. The Chronicle records only that in the spring of 1002 “the Lady, Richard’s daughter, came to this land.” She was consecrated queen, and from then on she witnesses the king’s charters as Ælfgifu regina. The name Emma survives only because Norman writers, and later her own commissioned book, kept using it.
The first wife is harder to see. Æthelred had married in the 980s and had a large family — six sons and several daughters — but his first wife left almost no trace in the documents of her own time. Twelfth-century writers name her Ælfgifu and disagree about her father. Modern historians generally accept the name, and if it is right, Emma was given the name of the woman whose place she was taking. Ælfgifu was a common royal name; whether it was coincidence or policy, nobody recorded.
Six months later her husband ordered the St Brice’s Day killings — that is the next track, The Feast of Saint Brice, and it has been deliberately kept out of this one. Here the album stays on the name and the household: the feast, the charter, the letters from Normandy, the bishop at the altar.
The 1002 marriage, the Norman treaty behind it, and the English name Ælfgifu are documented. That Æthelred’s first wife was also called Ælfgifu comes from twelfth-century sources and is widely accepted rather than proven. Her height, the toast from his eldest son, the bishop calling the name, and her answering the first time are the song’s own staging. So is the reading of a teenage bride as someone learning the trade rather than suffering it.