Chronicle 1
Year 797 AD, the 1st of October.
My name is Seolfor nædre, or Silver Serpent. [1]
I am 14 years old and I am sitting at the very end of my Island in the middle of the Thames, it is called Sashes Island.
From here I can see all the way to Winter Hill, and the serpent like river Thames.
Behind me are the cliffs, which I walk up, to my house on Hedsor Hill, where I live with my brother and sister, father and mother.
When I look straight ahead I can see smoke rising, and busy men loading and unloading boats to deliver goods to Queen Cynethryth’s Abbey (author’s note, an important real historical person), at Cookham, busy like the bees around our hive in Hedsor.
The river is alive with craft of all sizes plying their trades. Most of them are delivering to or collecting from the Abbey, with its proud shining new mill and leat, and the cavernous, smokey meeting hall.
I love it when my father sometimes accompanies me to deliver our tasty cargo of fish, and we enter that sombre world of the Christian Saints and our Lord Jesus.
Sometimes I ask myself who is Lord Jesus and where is he today?
Does he hear my prayers, and if so why does he not speak to me when I am alone by the river and pray to him?
Beneath my feet as I stand at the end of the island are my slithering sliding friends, the eels. [2]
They move around each other, rubbing their long, twisting bodies together, and their tiny eyes glint at me in recognition of my face. They live near the shore of my island, and sometimes I see them feasting on weeds. They are my companions, and I share my secrets with them, just as they share their secrets with me.
But do they fear the monstrous river beast, which lurks in the depths of the river?
Not only is the river my friend, but it is also our livelihood.
In the summer it is a playful riot of fish of all shapes and sizes, which we catch, and then take to the Abbey kitchens in their hundreds, in our wicker baskets. But in the winter when it is icy and cold, we live off the dried fish which keep us free from hunger as much as possible. The hunger that many of our neighbours endure every year, and some do not.
My happiest moments are when I find odd things in the earth and river, and there are so many of them here in Cookham. It’s almost as if people have lived here for a very long time before me, and they’ve hidden things for me to find one day, now.
Here are some of my favourite things.
I wonder who made them and why they left them there, just for me. It makes me feel like I’ve been here for hundreds of years, but I’m only 14 years old. When I pick up this piece of glass, I don’t worry about my life and the vengeful men of Wessex. I simply sit, think and greet my long lost friend, who left this glass here, just for me to find today. Thank you, friend.
Today my father and I went to the Abbey to deliver our fish to the kitchen. Queen Cynethryth’s smiling confidante, Wilfrida [5] was there to meet us.
The wharf was packed with boats and goods from all over our kingdom of Mercia, from wine to swords and precious books. There was hardly space for our little boat, but we managed to moor, and dragged our baskets up onto the shore, full to the brim of fish. We walked past the mill which was turning furiously, and the hospice which was unusually busy.
As we approached, we saw that a man was being carried in, and he was the most massive man I have ever seen, truly a giant.
He must have been three times my size, and it looked like he may have fallen off his horse because his clothes were tattered, and he had a huge, red bump on his head, despite the helmet that was on the stretcher next to him.
I thought that he must have been a warrior. Who was this man and what had happened to him? Had he fallen off his horse? Or had he encountered robbers who wanted to steal his magnificent sword. They could even have been those men of Wessex who are to be feared and not trusted, so warns my father.
© David Gilbert 2025, the Cookham Chronicler
Footnotes
[1] Silver serpent illustration by Amersham Art College.
[2] Eels video. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=17eKHaF8ihs
(elvers possibly in River Tame near Sutton Coldfield).
[3] Samian ware from Cookham Abbey dig 2024
[4] Decorated glass from from Cookham Abbey dig.
[5] Wilfrida, Anglo-Saxon name, means wishing for peace.
Cookham Chronicles logo background courtesy of the British Library.