Northman Part 1

by M J Porter

  Amongst the sea of sullen faces, Northman found himself seeking the comfort of Wulfstan’s steady presence. Remarkably, of them all, he appeared the one most able to shrug the dishonour accorded to Leofwine aside. He was angry and shared his Lord’s outrage, and yet, he did not raise his voice or, when the mead flowed too freely, stand and shout curses at the king or Eadric.

  And Northman was not alone in his preference for the older man’s company. His father was often sat with him, polishing his sword or sanding his shield. He too calmed when Wulfstan was near and in those few days of fire and cold, heat and chill, Northman gained an insight into the power that Wulfstan held over men.

  His words were never hurried, his tone rarely angry and yet, all listened when he spoke. Initially, Horic had roared and screeched with his rage, earning himself some sideways glances from Æthelflæd and his wife that he’d ignored at his peril. Only when he’d been struck down by a monumental headache brought on by the vast quantities, he’d drunk had he subsided to calmness. He too had gravitated towards Wulfstan, where Oscetel and the men of the war band had been slowly gathering.

  None plotted treason or revenge. Their stoicism in the face of such treatment after they’d faced Swein of Denmark for their king and beaten him into retreat amazed Northman.

  One night, as the fire in the centre of the hall, had crackled and roared with the huge amount of wood heaped upon it, Wulfstan had leant towards Northman.

  “What do you think lad?”

  “About what?” Northman had uttered, stunned to realize these was the first words he’d spoken all day.

  “Of your father’s men? Do you understand their acceptance of what’s happened, or like your brother, are you angry that the men do not shout for justice?”

  Northman took a moment to consider his reply. Wulfstan was right in what he said. Leofric was angry and unmanageable. His high-pitched voice could often be heard angrily berating his younger brother and sister, and more than once, their father had been forced to intervene, carrying a sobbing Leofric to his private quarters so that they could talk about his behaviour. Northman understood the rage that coursed through his brother’s blood but couldn’t bring himself to mirror that rage.

  “I think they wouldn’t be so high in my father’s esteem if they didn’t think as he did.”

  Wulfstan chuckled at the reply.

  “As I said boy, you’re growing wise with your years. Remember that.”

  Northman nodded to show he understood the lesson.

  “Do you think the king will act further against my father?” the words were forced past the lump in his throat that formed whenever he considered that possibility. They felt more harshly rung than any sentence he’d ever yet had to speak.

  “No lad, I don’t. The king has no cause to drive your father further from his counsels. He needs men who are compliant and do as they’re told. And we all know that they’re in short supply around this king. But no, the king will let matters settle now. Eadric has what he wants, and mayhap, he too will let the dust settle before he asks for anything further from the king.”

  Again, Northman nodded to show he understood.

  Before him, Finn was leading the huge array of children in a fair imitation of a learning rhyme, and for the first time in years, Northman was almost tempted to add his voice to the song of his early years. Leofric was sat with his sister, his face, for once, free from the scowl that had graced it for the last week. Near the fire, his mother sat quietly nursing the baby, a smile of contentment on her face, free from lines of worry for the time being. His father was embroiled in a lively debate with Horic about the virtues, or not, of the axe as both a fighting weapon and a weapon of the farm.

  It all felt very normal, and Northman relaxed, his small shoulders un-tensing, his eyes half-closing as he leant against Wulfstan. Normal felt good.

  The songs of the children swirled around his head, like the stray smoke from the fire, and he slept where he sat, not even stirring when he felt the strong arms of his father carrying him to his bed, warmed by his already sleeping hound.

  Chapter 3

  Early AD1007 – Leofwine

  The lad weighed as nothing in his arms and for a moment he had a flashback to the first time he’d held his tiny son in his arms. Many years might well have passed since then, but still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that actually little had changed. The years had allowed the boy to grow and thrive, but still, he was his first-born son, as light as a feather in his battle-weary arms.

  Placing him on his bed beside his faithful hound, Leofwine stilled in thought. To think his worry when he’d returned from the Outer Isles was that he’d not be able to fight again. He felt as though he’d done little since but call his fyrd together, and ride against their enemies. And now, now he wasn’t sure where to look for his enemies.

  In one stroke, Swein had released him from their blood feud while his king seemed to have placed him under one. Shaking his head angrily, he walked quietly back to where Wulfstan sat quietly, staring at the blazing fire. Everyone else sleeping the night away.

  His wife had long since sought her bed, the new babe and the sudden turn of events wiping much of her strength. She smiled, and she played the dutiful wife, as she always had done, but every so often, he caught sight of her with gentle tears rolling down her face. He didn’t know if she cried for him, for herself or their children, and neither did he ask her. He could only offer so many words of assurance, and even they were starting to ring a little hollow in his ears.

  Wulfstan spoke first,

  “He’s an exceptional boy. A credit to you and Æthelflæd.”

  Nodding in agreement, Leofwine sat beside his oldest friend and counsellor, while Hammer sidled up to him for some much-needed affection. He, like his master, suddenly found himself master of an extended household. The hounds of his Lord’s children were mostly well behaved, but Hammer was exhausting himself keeping peace amongst the slightly snappy beasts as frustrated as everyone else to find themselves housebound following the snowstorm.

  “He’ll be worthy of the task when it’s demanded of him,” Wulfstan added ominously, and Leofwine shuddered at the thought.

  “He’s just a boy and my son at that.”

  “Yes, he is. With your resourcefulness and resilience.”

  “It’s too much to ask for.”

  “Yes, but Eadric will demand it and if you refuse the king will enforce his will.”

  “Æthelflæd won’t forgive me.”

  “Perhaps not, but don’t let that stop you preparing Northman for what will come. Let him be useful to you when it comes. Teach him what he needs to know, how he should act.”

  “How should I know what to teach him?” Leofwine countered, his voice rising a little harshly in frustration.

  “Teach him what you would do if the situation were reversed.” Wulfstan offered with assurance and Leofwine looked at him afresh. He’d clearly been thinking about this, whereas Leofwine had refused to let the thoughts enter his mind since his family had returned to him.

  “What would you do?” Leofwine asked, intrigued despite the distasteful topic.

  Wulfstan glanced from the fire to look at Leofwine intently,

  “He needs to know to watch, to listen. To take in every piece of information no matter how irrelevant and how little he might understand it. He needs to know to fight for his own corner when he trains, to make friends with those he can, and to trust as few as he can. He needs to be subservient, but not too submissive. He needs to show some unhappiness at what’s happened to him. Otherwise, Eadric won't be convinced, and he needs to allow himself to be won over by the kindness that Eadric will show to him. The man wants to take something else of yours and either take it from you or turn it against you. Don’t let him. Northman is no blunt weapon to hammer away at you. He can be sharp as steel and twice as deadly. Let him be these things.”

  Anger blossomed deep within him at the words of Wulfstan, but he let it blow itself out
quickly. Wulfstan was, as ever, right. Northman, his first born son, was quick and athletic, good with his sword and shield, gaining from his instructions under both Leofwine’s household troop and Horic’s more rugged boys who fought as their father did. He was intelligent too. His thinking was sound and logical. Leofwine was proud of him and grateful for the love and care his wife had lavished on all their children. But to let him go to Eadric of all people was almost too hard to countenance.

  A warm hand on his shoulder and Leofwine attempted to smile away his worries.

  “I didn’t say it’d be bloody easy,” Wulfstan offered by way of an apology. “Whatever hold Eadric has over our king, it's total, and it is still not complete. Use your son as a weapon. But caution him. Eadric must think that he has him completely under his power or it’ll be a worthless exercise.”

  Leofwine sighed deeply at the images flashing through his mind. He wouldn’t want to be under the power of Eadric and could think of nothing less appealing for his oldest boy. At least his son would have some advantages to him. He was beguiling to all he met. It would be a man far more hard-hearted than Eadric who’d manage not to fall under his spell. And it needn’t be forever. Fostering normally started at an earlier age than ten, but there was no need that it should be for many years. Two years, maybe three, and he could legitimately call his son home, as he’d be required to learn more specifics about the governance of the Hwiccan lands.

  “And Leofric.”

  “What of Leofric?” Leofwine asked, distractedly.

  “You should see to him being fostered to your advantage as well.”

  Leofwine looked at his friend incredulously.

  “I can’t deprive Æthelflæd of both boys.”

  “It’s high time that the boys were sent out to learn the ways of another household. Not that he need go far,” Wulfstan, cautioned apologetically. “I was thinking of perhaps Horic’s home, although you may have other ideas. And stop looking at me like that. You know that it’s standard practice, it’s not as if I’m telling you to send them to the raiding bastards to be fostered.”

  “No, you’re not, but still, this isn’t the most salubrious of conversations we’ve ever had.”

  “I didn’t say it would be. Why do you think I’ve waited until the household sleeps to speak of this with you?”

  “Horic?”

  “Yes Horic, he’s a good man and he has the advantage that his household is run more along the lines of his homeland. Leofric will learn much about the ways of the Raiders. I don’t think the harrying of our lands is over, not by a long shot, and he would be well to be educated by one of their own. Anyway, Horic’s wife keeps order there. It’s her who’ll be responsible for much of his education, as Æthelflæd is here. You already have some of their sons in the household troop. I’m sure they’d be amenable to returning the honour.”

  “How long have you been thinking about this?” Leofwine asked grudgingly.

  “A while.”

  “Anything else you’ve decided upon?” he queried in aggravation.

  “Oh yes, but I’m not telling you all my plans now.”

  Before Leofwine could ask for more details, Horic’s wife, Agata, came and planted herself beside them. Leofwine hadn’t realised she was still awake.

  “My Lord,” she began, only for Leofwine to shake his head at her.

  “Come on. You know better than that,” he interrupted her.

  “I do, but when I have a favour to ask, I thought I should use the correct address.”

  “Ask away, and don’t call me my Lord, especially when everyone else is happily sleeping.”

  “As you will Leofwine,” she stumbled with a hesitation and a small smile. “The house is a little crowded,” she began. “And Horic is bad tempered.”

  “Isn’t he always?” Wulfstan interjected.

  “Not quite this bad, Wulfstan,” she offered.

  “And you wish to travel home?” Leofwine asked, guessing already what she wanted.

  “I think it would be for the best.”

  “I’m sorry that we’ve descended so abruptly on your home here.”

  “It's your home. I was always only its custodian in your absence.”

  “And you’ve done an excellent job. I don’t want you to think that you have to leave on my account.”

  “I don’t. I just believe that with your growing family, and my growing boys, that there are too many of us in too small a space.”

  “Then, of course, you have my permission to travel home. But please, come back when the weather improves. I may have to build an addition to this house. As you say, my family is growing, and if this is to be our more permanent home, it will not be adequate to my needs. And, I may yet have another favour to ask of you, but first, I must discuss it with Æthelflæd.”

  “As you will Leofwine, and my thanks for your understanding. The inclement weather makes him crotchety and feel his slowly advancing years. And, Leofwine, if what you wish to ask is what I think you want to ask, Æthelflæd is already well aware of the necessity, and it would be my honour.”

  She stood abruptly and walked away then, and Leofwine watched her go with narrowed eyes.

  “Anything else going on in ‘my’ household of which I’m not aware?” he asked moodily.

  “I would have thought so. You’ve been much distracted of late, and women will talk, and young men will fall in love.”

  “Who?” Leofwine asked all ears for any interesting titbits of information.

  “You’ll need to work that out for yourself, my Lord,” Wulfstan muttered, with a small bow of his head, and a chuckle-raising his shoulders. “Now go to bed and keep your wife warm,” he admonished, and slowly Leofwine stood, every muscle in his body aching from exhaustion and inactivity.

  “And what plans have you made for yourself?” Leofwine stopped and asked, not looking at Wulfstan as he spoke, fearing to see the confirmation of his fears.

  “Not what you think,” Wulfstan countered defiantly. “Now, bed.”

  Taking care not to step on the sleeping shapes lying on the floor of his congested home, Leofwine made his way to his private room, his mind whirling with his fears for the future. A moment of whim from his king, and suddenly everything was changing, and much of it was outside his control. It was unsettling, and he thought he’d not sleep, but curled around his wife’s warm and soft body, sleep settled over him quickly and for the night at least, he didn’t have to consider anything further.

  Chapter 4

  Early AD1007 – Leofwine

  He woke slowly the next morning, more content on waking than he had been all week long. Reaching lazily for Æthelflæd he found only a warm spot in their bed, and gradually opening his eyes he found her sitting with her back to him, having her luxurious hair plaited by her maid. He could hear the energetic sucking of his youngest child, and he smiled to himself for a moment forgetting the circumstances that had brought his wife home in the middle of winter.

  Tugging the furs higher, he rolled back over to sleep a little longer, but he had his ambitions thwarted.

  “Leofwine, we must talk about the future,” his wife spoke softly, but with iron in her voice. She’d evidently decided that he’d had long enough to consider his next actions. Groaning softly to himself he asked,

  “Which part of the future?”

  Turning towards him, her eyes flashing a little dangerously in the candlelight, he was taken aback by the anger there.

  “Apologies, I didn’t mean to belittle your question,” he quickly interjected before she could berate him. Her face instantly softened, and she shooed the maid away, handing her the fat little bundle of his youngest child. Reaching down she pulled her dress closed over her exposed breast but not before a thrill of pleasure coursed through his sleep contended body.

  Still sitting on her chair, she spoke quietly but urgently, undoubtedly aware of the bodies moving around in the great hall who might, or might not, be able to hear their conversation.

/>   “What do you plan to do now?”

  Sitting upright in his bed, so as to be more on a level with her he replied,

  “What I’ve always done. See to the courts, attend the shire meetings, and ensure the fyrd is provisioned, as they should be. Serve the king as I am commanded.”

  “And what else?” she asked, her brow furrowing in thought as she weighed up his words.

  “Prepare our sons for what must now happen.”

  Her sharp eyes penetrated his face,

  “And what would that be?”

  “Fosterage.”

  “With who?” she replied, her voice dangerously low.

  “Ah, Æthelflæd don’t make this any harder than it already is. You know whom, at least for Northman, even Wulfstan knows. There is little sense in putting off the inevitable.”

  “I would not give my prized sow to that bastard,” she commented harshly, shocking Leofwine with the venom in her voice.

  “I know my love, and our prized firstborn son is worth far more than the bloody pig. But Eadric is so high in the king’s estimations at the moment that we must use every weapon we have to ensure the survival of our family for our boys and our daughter.”

  “Weapon!” she shrieked. “He’s just a boy.”

  “And a fine boy at that. But Wulfstan spoke to me of this last night, and he has some excellent ideas of how we can turn this situation to our advantage.”

  “I do not want my son to be a weapon,” she interjected before he could continue.

  “I appreciate that, more than you, but neither do I wish to send him off to Eadric with no protection.”

  Sighing deeply, she looked away from Leofwine, acceptance already showing in her slightly deflated stance.

  “And how does Wulfstan plan for our boy to be a weapon?”

  “He thinks that Northman is quick witted enough to play Eadric and win his confidence and his trust, and he’ll then be able to use what he learns to benefit our family.”