Full confession this is a shameless excuse to a) gush about Æthelflæd, b) info dump and c) attempt to be poetic. Anyway, Happy May Day!
Titles and chapter beginnings and endings come from Jerusalem, England's national anthem.
Warnings: anything explicit that might need a warning is in the historical notes but, spoilers, this chapter is Alfred and the lowest points of English history and next chapter is Æthelflæd with the highest, so implied and referenced death, government oppression, child neglect, the devastating effects of nature, religious conflict, war, and genocide in this (although the last one is blink and you'll miss it).
Lundenwic - Aldwych London as opposed to Londinium/Lundenburh; the City of London
Temese – Thames
I will not cease from Mental Fight
And did those feet in ancient time
Walk upon Englands mountains green
And was the holy Lamb of God,
Englands pleasant pastures seen!
Lundenwic, 886
Englaland pushed his way through the crowd of English traders and their families who called the city home, the English, Welsh and Frisian soldiers he had arrived with and the odd brave anglicised Dane trying to get to the river before anybody started making speeches without him.
He slipped through a group of dancing young men and women and around the burnt ruins of a small house to run into a group of children about his apparent age playing a skipping game, he hesitated a moment to watch them and had his hand captured by a little blond girl who dragged him over and he lost track of time as their exaltation washed over him and the Strings connecting him with his people bloomed. He didn't know how much later it was that he ended up standing on the outside of the ring of children as the adults started moving south and remembered that he needed to as well.
His small stature and the direction of movement allowed him to slip through the crowd faster than before but the closer he went to his destination the thicker the crowd became, the Temese proving an effective barrier. When he couldn't continue forwards any further after coming across a group of soldiers who had removed half their weaponry but not their defensive cloaks and who stood too close for him to pass he turned and pushed his way towards the ships falling out of the crowd unexpectedly near a pile of crates and a small boat.
"Englaland!" A woman called out and he looked up to see Æthelgifu standing on the ship waving him over, her body guard, Cola, standing next to her looking long suffering. He glanced back at the crowd then ran over to his princess as her younger sister popped up from where she'd been hiding.
"Englaland!" Ælfthryth called. "This is so cool!" Englaland nodded and jumped over the water into the ship.
"The coolest." He agreed. "Where's the King?"
"He, the Ealdorman and Æthelflæd are over there preparing to give their speeches." Æthelgifu answered, "when they step up we're going to climb those crates and get the best view." Englaland nodded again and turned to look at where she was pointing, further up the river, he could just about make out the flash of bright colours signifying royalty through the fully armed soldiers.
"Is that soon?" He asked, the itch under his skin that said Something was going to happen and the atmosphere of the crowd had him bouncing on the balls of his feet.
"Nearly." Cola promised. "And where's Leofdæg?" Englaland stared up at him with wide eyes and Cola sighed. "Englaland what have we said about running away from your guards?"
"Not to?" Englaland offered. "But he was so slow!"
"Englaland." Cola said sternly, "when this is finished, you and I are going to go find him and you are going to apologise."
"Yes Sir." England groaned, as Ælfthryth grabbed his arm and started pointing.
"They're moving!" She jumped up and down slightly as Cola looked over.
"So they are. Okay you can climb the crates now." Ælfthryth didn't need any more encouragement and raced over to them to start climbing, Englaland followed shortly after and by the time they were standing at the top, holding onto the roof of a house for support and giving Cola a heart attack, Æthelgifu had climbed up onto some of the lower crates, all of them having a view over the crowd to see the platform that had been set up by the river.
For a minute nothing happened then three people stepped up onto the stage: Ælfthryth's oldest sister Æthelflæd; her new husband Ealdorman Æthelred of Mercia and her father, King Ælfræd of Wessex.
Ælfræd raised his sword into the air when he stepped onto the stage gaining the attention of the crowd as Æthelflæd and Æthelred stood respectfully behind him. Ælfræd stood for a minute whilst the crowd started cheering, the sound starting small and growing into a crescendo that threatened to make Englaland's ears bleed and he was sure the Danes could hear it in their camp while they sat licking their wounds. He thought that might be the aim.
Ælfræd lowered and raised his sword three times and when he lowered it a final time a hush fell over the crowd so quickly a flock of birds flew out of the trees on the other side of the river. Ælfræd stepped forward with his arms open and called out in a voice that carried easily to Englaland and to the people pressed up by the houses a hundred meters away.
"Fair Mercians, I must thank you for your kind welcome and I must apologise for the delay it took to arrive." A laugh rang up through the crowd. "But nevertheless, after years of toil we are here today a free city!" He raised his sword in the air and the crowd started cheering again, the noise lasted less time than before but once again cut off when he lowered the sword.
"This is a great cause for celebration, but also of remembrance. We each owe our lives to those who gave theirs to bring us here. We give our thanks to God and ask that He may bless us further in future and we give our thanks to our brothers and sisters in the west," a cheer went up from a small group of soldiers on the other side of the docks to Englaland, presumably from the Dyfed or Kernow garrison, "and those to our south," not to be outdone the Frisians on the ships further up the river as well as behind him hit their shields with their swords in five short sharp taps that rang out over them, "who came to our aid when we needed it. We must thank the Northumbrians for their generosity and our Saxon and Merican soldiers for their dedication to Northumbria; to Wessex; to Merica and to Englaland!"
The crowd didn't wait for Ælfræd's signal that time, cheering and, presumably inspired by the Frisians, slamming swords on shields, spoons on saucepans and their feet on the ground. Englaland swayed at the collective emotion that flowed over him and Ælfthryth grabbed his arm to steady him as her father stared straight at him. Ælfræd waited far longer for the crowd to die down on its own before lifting and lowering his sword to cut off the last of the stragglers to continue his speech.
"I am Ælfræd, King of Wessex. I have led the armies of the South over here and I have waited for this moment keenly but…" Ælfræd paused, "I am the King of Wessex and I have no claim to this kingdom. Son?" Æthelred stepped forward, raising his arm in greeting to his people as he did so.
"I am Æthelred, King of Mercia, commander of the western armies, do you accept me as your king?" Æthelred called out, there was a moment of silence then the people at the front of the crowd started to kneel and soon the rest followed. Æthelred grinned triumphantly and opened his arms wide. "Your allegiance will be recognised.
"The Lord hath blessed us in these dark times and it is our job to carry that blessing with us to ensure that it was not in vain. For with the liberation of Lunden comes hope to many. Tomorrow we will set out to negotiate a peace treaty with Guthrum, hopefully the first of many."
Ælfræd nodded beside him and raised his sword again.
"We have been born again anew and we have built ourselves up. Æthelred is your Lord but by the Grace of God we plan to rise from the ashes like a phoenix from the flame stronger and more unified than before and I ask if you would follow me to salvation?" The moment between Ælfræd's question and the responding roar as the crowd stepped up to their feet was shorter than Æthelred's had been, the crowd expecting it. Ælfræd's triumphant grin as he scanned the crowd before they fell upon Englaland and he raised his sword as high as it could go before he spoke not just to his people but to his Nation.
"I am Ælfræd, King of the English!"
That roar was definitely heard by the Danes.
The celebration had Englaland dizzy within hours and halfway through dinner he was led to bed by an irate Leofdæg who seemed to be holding off his scolding for running off until Englaland was well enough to appreciate it. It was later when most of his people had fallen asleep and his buzz had died down enough that he could think straight but not enough that he could sleep that Leofdæg relented and they went out again.
Most people had split into smaller private gatherings but the drunken joyful singing and the distant sound of a yew horn playing a victory march had Englaland running between then and welcomed with open arms.
The group of soldiers from countries more than just his own and the local defenders with none of the glitter; the young couples in love and the steadfast friends; the women who gave them apples and the men strips of wool; the elderly regaling stories of their past and the young of their future.
He'd just sung a ditty with a few old women on the banks of the river when a small hand grabbed his own and he was tugged through the boats to a small gathering of children wrapped on robes curled up in one of the outer boats while an older solider regaled them with a story of a brave warrior defeating an ælfsidenn, the nightmare elf. When Englaland, his guide and Leofdæg approached the soldier flashed them a smile and moved over to allow Leofdæg to sit with him while Englaland sat and curled up with the other children allowing the warmth of their bodies and their souls to wash over him and relax his muscles and slow down the buzz in his brain.
"And then with one final blow from his sword the ælfsidenn was vanquished and peace was brought to the village." The soldier finished, miming the actions with a twig as he said so. A small cheer went up from the children, tired and quiet but there, most of them on the verge of falling asleep.
"Another?" One of the children near the front who Englaland registered as the soldier's own asked.
"Another? But you've heard them all." The soldier teased and a small ahh went through his audience, Englaland smiled and pulled the robe closer curling up with a small girl who was already asleep and her older brother who was nearly there but opened up his arms to allow Englaland in. "Do you have any?"
"Me?" Leofdæg asked.
"No, the river, yes you." A couple of the children laughed, and he grinned at Leofdæg.
"I know a good story. It's not a traditional one but you have to make sure you tell it far and wide because it has an important lesson in it and our new king is big on lessons." Leofdæg looked at him as he talked and Englaland knew he wasn't just talking to the children present but all the future children to come, however many there may be. He closed him eyes, a content smile on his face and prepared to drift off as Leofdæg's soothing voice started talking.
Once upon a time there was a King named Alfred. Alfred was a wise and Just ruler.
The tide crashed against the shore below him and rocked the Viking ships lined up on the beach. They stayed put, however, and everybody ignored the change as the Danes ladened their ships with English gold. Englaland glared at them from the top of the hill he sat on, where he and a couple of other boys had been left by the soldiers who were staring at the ships and refusing to help move the bags from their carts.
"What are we going to do next year?" Cenric asked. "If we need to keep doing this, we'll eventually run out, there's already a lot of people not looking forward to the winter."
"We'll figure it out." Englaland said. "I'm sure it's just a temporary measure while the defences are updated."
"Probably." Wulfric agreed. "The king has to know that the more gold we give them the more likely they are to come back, as raiders or conquerors. Your story?" England blinked at him for a moment, then remembered what he had been doing before the sea had startled them and continued.
He was beloved by all his people. The first English king.
"English?" Cwenhild whispered into his chest and Englaland nodded, knowing both she and her brother could feel it in the small, enclosed space they were hid in and never would have fit in if not for the months of starvation preceding it.
Above them the soldiers shouted: to each other; to the farmers; to the raiders from the North. The French words sliding over each other and worming their way into Englaland's head and twisting like knives. The Gaelic was a familiar punch but this time on a still open wound, Englaland's people falling like his blood, and his skin, like his land, burnt for centuries to come. The English was the worse. Because it ended. Cut off in a scream or a gurgle or whimper, so softly you didn't realise it had stopped at all.
"English." England repeated. "The first to hold favour of the South, Midlands and North."
Alfred's kingdom was plagued by invaders who were conquering his neighbours and who were trying to conquer him too.
"Makes a change." Ralph laughed. "Attacks from the outside."
"Don't say that somebody actually will!" Leofwin snapped.
"Don't yell." Geoffrey hissed. "They might come back." All four of them looked over to the castle gates, shut tight and locked up. The Lord having no interest in his people or the war and the adults long since disappeared: to fight; to find aid; to escape the raiders; to the hunger roaming the land.
"They're not going to come back." Ralph said. "They stripped the place top to bottom, we're on our own until harvest unless somebody marches an army through."
"That's unlikely." England offered. "You should be safe here. You just have to look after yourselves, and anyone else if they come through, it's not like anybody else will."
"They might do if somebody wins the war."
"The war will be won by the person who dies last, be it the King or the Empress. Until then we are on our own and we need to protect ourselves. There is no law to do so for us."
"This is getting depressing again." Leofwin said. "Can you finish your story?"
But Alfred had an idea. He rallied the kings of his neighbouring kingdoms to create a single Kingdom of England, which would be much harder for the invaders to attack.
"Not much easier to defend though." Cecilia gave a wry smile, nodding at the water slowly flooding the room they were trapped in, almost reaching the top of the table they were sitting on. "We could have all the wealth and military might in the world, and God will still make fools of us with a single storm. Kent's not in a better position, which is strategically worse. They're only a hop over the Channel."
"The Kent military complexes will be rebuilt quickly." England reassured her. "And trade will continue elsewhere. A small bit of water's not going to defeat us."
"No." Cecilia conceded. "But our sea defences aren't particularly good, and they won't be rebuilt nearly as quickly. Especially this far north."
"But they will be rebuilt." England said. "And this won't happen again. Or at least we'll try to make sure it doesn't happen again. The next few years are going to be hard enough."
"Of course they will. But it won't be much help to us now." England's' eyes flickered to the water, now lapping over the table and getting his shoes wet.
"Shall I finish the story?"
Except they did not agree, and one by one their kingdoms fell, and their dynasties died with them until only Alfred was left.
Laura hummed, then coughed as the noise pained her chest.
"Kings. Always thinking they can prevail better than everybody else." England laughed and clutched her hand a little tighter. Her voice was getting weaker by the minute, the plague claiming her life like it had her siblings and parents. Like many of England's people giving him an almost permanent fever.
"An inordinate amount of confidence has its place."
"Not in the face of something like that. It is better to submit and live to fight another day. Man cannot strike you down the same way God can."
"That is a type of confidence in and of itself." She laughed.
"No, it's a type of bravery." She coughed again, large hacking coughs that came from somewhere deep inside her, rattling the space inside her body that her soul was vacating.
He needed to finish the story quickly, then bury her with dignity and move on to the next town. There was nobody left here.
Alfred and his army fought bravely against the invaders, but they could not defeat them on their own. They lost the battle for their kingdom and were scattered.
The children gasped and a few of the older ones chuckled. Faces gaunt and hands idle. No work and no relief from war taxes.
England gripped the coin in his hand firmly. Keeping it in his pocket and not letting any on lookers know he had it since it was probably the only piece of currency in the entire town, and he needed to deliver it to the Royal Mint. He paid his way with chores; news of the ever-shrinking wool trade, of the war in France, of the unrest sweeping the country, and with stories.
All the stories he'd been told in his long life. All the stories he had lived through. All the stories he wished to be.
This depression, this lack of money that ensured that all their earthly possessions became worthless, was not the work of God or invaders but their own arrogance, and it was only through their humility that they would get through it.
That did not make it easier to see the children in front of him whispering about what might have happened to Alfred amongst themselves wrapped in clothing that would have once been worth a kingdom but was now used for rags. All skin and bones because their parents had no money to give.
He always came back to this story when he was giving them out for free.
Alfred himself was highly sought after and hid himself amongst his people, eventually gaining shelter with a woman who had lost her husband and son in Alfred's army.
"Smart plan." Dorothy nodded. "Find the people. They might have a few things to say about the goings on."
"Still not decided what religion you have yet." Edward sneered, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair.
"No. I've decided, I just don't want to be caught out if we change again." Dorothy shot back, hand going to the cross at her throat.
"That just means you're a traitor to everybody!"
"I am loyal to my God and to my country whatever the Queen or the Pope says. I do not need to prove my religion to anybody."
"Except the law."
"I have freedom of religion within the law."
England rubbed his head as they started arguing. The raging headache that had plagued him the last few decades returning full force when confronted with the ideological split that had so recently torn him apart and that he was only just mending from. Bit by bit as people accepted the situation. As Spain and France stopped interfering.
"Hey." Alice interrupted. "You can argue later, I want to hear the story first." She smiled at him and he smiled gently back at her before starting back up again.
One day the women had to go to market and left Alfred in charge of watching her baking cakes. Unfortunately lost in his desperation as he was, Alfred didn't notice that the cakes burnt.
"Of course he didn't." Godfrey's mother sniffed. "He's royalty, never had to work a day in his life." Matthew's mother rolled her eyes.
"We get it Joan you support parliament. You don't need to be so insistent anymore."
"Terrible system monarchy. Letting only a few hold power that allows them to do whatever they wish." Joan continued.
"As opposed to the new system. Which works the same way but now we're not allowed to complain about it." Agnes's father muttered and at once they all went deadly quiet and turned to look at soldier standing on the other side of the market square, red uniform standing out amongst the greys of the crowd.
"Father." Agnes hissed. The same time her mother reproached him: "William."
"We have a representation of the people." Morgan offered nervously. Glancing at England like he hoped he could just change the facts. The cold feeling in England's stomach grew, his wounds from the Civil War itching and waiting to reopen on his back, the ones from the new Republic still bleeding.
"We have less representation." William whispered. "The monarchy may have whittled down our voices, but it was our dear Lord Protector who killed our democracy."
"Bloody Levellers." Leonard hissed. "Be grateful that we're still alive. Let's focus on that not on abstract concepts."
"The abstract concepts give us reason to live. This abstract concept ensures we won't end up in this position again. We might be safe now, but I bet that's what the Irish thought too." William hissed back.
"Story!" Elizabeth said cheerfully. "The children wanted to hear a story. You were telling a story. Finish the story." She stared beseechingly at England, his neck burnt and hands shock so much he wasn't sure he could, but he cleared his throat and started talking again. His voice not yet stolen.
The kind woman was furious that Alfred would be so wasteful and chased him out of the house. In the chase Alfred lost his disguise and people recognised him from the minted coins bearing his face.
Issac winced. "That's bad luck."
"He is a king. He can afford to be kicked out." George scoffed.
"Not when you're wanted for treason."
"But he wasn't wanted for treason, was he?"
"You know what I mean." Isaac huffed crossing his arms and kicking at the small pile of firewood they had collected to last the night.
"It's not like it was the end of the world." George snapped.
"It might have been the end of a lot of other things though. Sometimes there are things bigger than yourself." England said. George looked back over his shoulder at the flicker of the burning village just visible through the trees. A part of his old life replaced by the new. The modern world crashing into them and leaving nothing but ash in its wake.
"Are you trying to be comforting? Because if so, stop. We've already accepted what's happened, we knew this was coming and we have arrangements in the city already. With all the industry going on, there's loads of jobs going so we'll get employment easily. We just have to figure out how to live on what we earn."
"It's just a story." Issac sighed. "Stop worrying so much, why don't you finish it?"
The crowd heckled Alfred, a king with no kingdom, and so he decided to raise another army to try to liberate his country.
"Why?" England paused, hands raised as he acted out the scene at the foot of the mattress holding a small gaggle of battle wounded children, despite the absence of a battle and an army on one side.
"Why what? Heckle the king or liberate his kingdom?"
"Both." Jedediah clarified. "Alfred had the power to hurt them for hurting him, so why would he help instead?" England stared at him then lowered his hands and sat on the chair next to the bed ruffling his collar and trying not to shiver only in his shirt sleeves, his red coat tucked in his bag and hidden from sight and no newspapers to tuck into his clothing, all new copies being removed by the government for dangerous information spread.
"Did you know that the Ancient Egyptians used to believe that their kings were gods walking the Earth and that once they died they would return to Heaven and could punish people who had wronged them in life?" He asked.
"No."
"We have never believed our kings to be anything other than men, and when our kings believed otherwise, we showed they were. Our judgement is up to God and to God alone, no king can affect us in the afterlife."
"But they can affect us on Earth." Jedediah insisted. "You haven't answered the question."
"Kings are men. They are elevated men but still men, and they are men who are chosen to serve their kingdom above all else. A king without a kingdom is no more elevated than any other man. Alfred did not punish his hecklers because he lived to serve them, and in that moment they were equals and they were right. He liberated his kingdom because he could, because it was his job and because he could think of no greater cause to die for." England stared at the children for a moment longer before looking through the window where he could see workers hurrying around to clean the blood from the days before, freezing every time a soldier on patrol walked past.
"Power corrupts but occasionally you find yourself somebody Great who remembers that those in power serve those without it. And occasionally you find somebody Good who remembers that punishment without reason is cruelty and not justice." He smiled back down at Jedediah, who still looked unsatisfied with his answer, and England could not blame him after his experience with people in power, but who settled down. "Shall I finish the story then?"
Alfred marched his new army to the invaders, and they fought once again. Only this time Alfred won.
"Sounds simple." Thomas gave a slightly deranged laugh. "The stories always make it sound so simple. Go forth and fight your enemies and live happily ever after." Above them a shell exploded overhead, and they all ducked further down in their trench.
"Clarke." Harding reproached.
"They've left us here to die and you know it." Thomas shot back, curling his hands around his rifle, and shaking like a leaf. "You heard the death tolls from last week as well as I did, we're lucky that Kirkland's still here. No offence, Sir."
"Clarke." England warned. "They have not left us to die and you should not be saying such things." Thomas grimaced but nodded.
"Apologies Sir."
"What happens next?" Albert asked, England raised an eyebrow.
"In the story?"
"No, to us. What happens next?" Albert and his twin were sitting opposite him in the trench, tightly grasping each other's hands and being dripped on by water from the flooding river Somme.
"We wait." England explained. "And we charge again until we capture the German trench. Haig is a good strategist, we'll come out the other side of this."
"And how long does that usually take?" 'Frederick' who they all knew was actually called Florence asked, squeezing her brother's hand. England hesitated in answering a beat too long, a sense of longing surging up his throat at the sudden urge to find his own family members further up the trench.
"It depends." They sat in silence for a few minutes, taking comfort in each other's presence before Walter spoke up.
"You're a good storyteller Sir. Could you tell another one, please?" England gave a small laugh.
"I've had lots of practice. Okay once upon a time…"
The End
"Wait, what?" Niamh stared up at him. "What happened next?" England blinked.
"Well, I suppose they fought again and won again and slowly but surely Alfred won back his kingdom. Then he and his family fought to free the other English kingdoms and unite them into one."
"Why isn't that mentioned in the story?" Niamh demanded.
"Because you're standing in England, I thought it was somewhat self-explanatory." England defended himself, shifting uncomfortably and adjusting his mask before picking up another box of medicine and marching it over to its designated spot.
"I would have thought that making England would be more worthy of being in the story than burning a cake." Niamh sniffed, following him.
"The cake is very important!" England could not believe her nerve. What were they teaching children these days? "Plus, Alfred didn't actually Found England, he just came up with the idea and set the ball rolling."
"Then why's the story called the Founding of England?" Niamh asked aghast.
"Because it's a good story." England shot back. "Lasted over a thousand years."
"But what's the point? The moral? All that happens is a king burns some cakes, loses a lot of wars."
"He didn't lose the war though." Niamh furrowed her eyebrows at him. "Forget about the bleeding cakes. He lost a lot of battles and was at the point where if he'd given up he would have lost the war and by not fighting there would have been no England. But he didn't."
"Why did he keep fighting then?" God, this child was slow.
"Because there are some things worth fighting for. Because you cannot win a war you never fight." The penny dropped and Niamh's eyes lit up.
"So, what's the moral?" She asked again.
"That you can make the world a better place, you can make your tomorrows be better than your yesterday's. That when things are dark, and hope is lost. When you feel the crushing blow of defeat. When you're at your lowest point and you think things can't get any worse. When you've been knocked to the ground and just you want to stay there and go to sleep. You breath. You gather yourself.
"And you get back up."
And did the Countenance Divine,
Shine forth upon our clouded hills?
And was Jerusalem builded here,
Among these dark Satanic Mills?
Notes
In 865 the Danish Great Heathen Army landed in East Anglia and went on a conquering spree of the English lands until in 878 all that was left was Somerset under Alfred the Great, which was a little embarrassing for him. Then the Cake Story happened, and Alfred revised his list of most embarrassing moments, raised a new army, conquered back Wessex and half of Mercia and established Danelaw with Guthrum the Danish king, i.e. all English lands east of Watling street belonged to Guthrum, west to Alfred.
991 – First payment of Danegeld. A Viking protection racket of paying to avoid being invaded.
1069 – Norman Conquest: Harrying of the North – destruction of Northumbria rendering the land dead for centuries including the deaths of ½ the population, 100,000 people, a further 50,000 fled to Scotland and were sold into slavery. End of all resistance to Norman rule.
1100 – "Christ and his saints slept for 19 years" or The Anarchy. In 1135 Henry I died without a male heir but left his kingdom to his daughter Empress Matilda, his nephew, Stephen of Blois, claimed the throne first however and this led to a 19-year period of intermittent warfare between the 2, general lawlessness, destruction of land that resulted in many famines exacerbated by high taxes and various local lords venting their frustrations by kidnapping and torturing random civilians to death.
1287 – The South England Flood in February destroyed much of the southern coastline and two Cinque Ports, huge military and trade centres in Kent, were also destroyed. The North Sea Flood in December destroyed much of the north eastern coastline and killed hundreds, although on the other side of the sea it is known as St. Lucia's Flood and it killed up to 80,000.
1349 – The Black Death, the first wave which killed 1/3 of the population in a year. By ~1400 subsequent waves reduced the English population to 2 million from 6 million, the population would not start to rise again until ~1500 and reached preplague levels ~1630s.
1450 – A deficit of trade with China in the beginning of the century caused a European coin shortage as import of precious metals ceased. Combined with the rising cost of the Hundreds Year War and a collapse of the English wool industry, England's most important industry for centuries, a depression occurred as there was simply no money. The result was the Jack Cade Rebellion followed by the Wars of the Roses.
1550s – In 1534 Henry VIII converted the country to Protestantism to divorce his wife so he could try to get a male heir. In 1553 his daughter, Mary I, converted the country back to Catholicism. In 1558 her sister, Elizabeth I, converted it back to Protestantism. This led to a lot of suspicion and religious divide, although both religions were legal and murder and in 1570 the Pope excommunicated the Queen and ordered that all Catholics should work to overthrow her.
1650s - Charles II started touting about the "Divine Right of Kings" and trying to dissolve Parliament and triggered 8 wars across the British Isles between 1639-51 that killed 15% of the population, so Westminster relived him of his duties and his head. Around this time the Levellers, started calling for almost universal male suffrage, regular elections, religious freedom, and the overthrow of the "Norman Yoke", after Charles death the Parliamentary leader Cromwell declared a republic, restricted the right to vote to its most restrictive, had them arrested and shot, made himself Lord Protector (read: military dictator) and conquered Ireland and Scotland.
1700s – The collision of the Agricultural and Industrial Revolutions lead to a complete change of life as farms need fewer labourers so people were turned out of their home and entire villages razed in Clearances, factory work dramatically increased but with no precedence there were no workers' rights and both things led to stagnating wages but rising food and living costs and large parts of the population saw their quality-of-life plummet.
1819 – Peterloo Massacre, cavalry charged a 60 thousand strong crowd calling for political reform, the right to vote, and protesting rising food prices and unemployment caused by economic depression, and killed 18 people, and injured ~700, specifically targeting the women and children present. It was the first event politicised by mass media and there was immediate government crackdown on the press and any Reformer of significance was imprisoned as the public came close to outright rebellion.
1916 – Battle of the Somme. One of 7 battles in human history to have a casualty rate of over 1 million. The first day was the bloodiest in British military history with 57,000 casualties including 19,000 deaths which included 60% of the officers, the end British Empire death toll for the 5-month campaign was ~125,000, mostly English, out of a total WW1 Empire military death toll of ~1.1 million (741,000 from the UK). For reference, the Empire military death toll from WW2 was 580,000 (264,000 from the UK). No Somme data for the UK specifically.
2021 – COVID-19