One of most recognizable comets in astronomy may require rebranding. But even if everyone continues to call the famed space rock Halley’s comet, some researchers say an eccentric 11th century monk deserves at least some credit. According to a review of historical materials including the famous Bayeux tapestry, a team from Leiden University in the Netherlands believes it makes more sense to name the icy space rock in honor of Aethelmaer of Malmesbury—a member of the Order of Saint Benedict who also lived with an ill-fated fascination with flying.
Every 76 years, a comet from the depths of our solar system reaches its nearest point to Earth. Its orbit is anything but new, however. Chinese observers recorded the appearance of a bright light traveling from east to north in the night sky as far back as 240 BCE, while Roman historian Cassius Dio described a similar sounding event in 12 BCE. It wasn’t until 1705 that the English astronomer Edmond Halley concluded that these regularly returning sights weren’t different objects, but a single comet traveling along a predictable trajectory. Today, his discovery is reflected in both the comet’s everyday name as well as its official classification, 1P/Halley.
But if one really wanted to name the comet after the first person in England to note its significance, some astronomers recommend the honor goes to Aethelmaer of Malmesbury. Also known as Eilmer, the Benedictine monk was already an elderly resident of his abbey when Halley’s comet returned in 1066 CE. However, that particular sighting was of special importance because it’s documented on the famous (and bawdy) Bayeux tapestry. The 770-pound scroll depicts the events surrounding the Battle of Hastings, during which William II invaded England from Normandy, France. The embroidered art also illustrates William II’s victory, as well as his short-lived reign before the last Anglo-Saxon king died in battle.
King William should have seen his demise coming, according to the medieval omen experts of his era. Halley’s comet appeared not long after he assumed the throne, and everyone at the time knew such cosmic sightings warned of impending disaster. Everyone including the monk, Eilmer.
Simon Zwart, an astronomer at the Leiden University in the Netherlands, realized this while reviewing the writings of the 12th century chronicler, William of Malmesbury. According to William, when Halley’s comet brightened the sky in 1066 CE, it also jotted Eilmer’s memory. The monk recalled first seeing the same event about 76 years earlier in 989 CE.
Based on this account, it technically wasn’t Edmond Halley who first proposed that the comet was making regular reappearances. Then again, it’s somewhat understandable why Eilmer’s claims didn’t gain more traction. After all, this was the monk who is otherwise best known for attempting to fly after reading the Greek myth of Daedalus as a child. To test his own theories, young Eilmer strapped a set of makeshift wings to his hands and feet, then jumped off a tower at Malmesbury Abbey. The confident—if misguided—leap of faith broke both his legs and incapacitated him for the rest of life.
“He used to relate as the cause of his failure, his forgetting to provide himself a tail,” his friend William later wrote.
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