Northman Part 1

by M J Porter

  He wondered if somehow, Eadric’s rule in Mercia had brought him into conflict with other members of the family.

  And then he pondered the idea that Eadric was merely trying to sabotage the king’s plans. That thought burnt the brightest and the truest and with a heavy heart, he acknowledged that to be the most likely reason. He pitied the king when he found out and then realised that the king probably already had an inkling of the truth.

  A little bolt of excitement leapt through his body. Perhaps Eadric would be tainted by this mini-rebellion, and he’d lose his position and then his son could come home to him. He hoped so but knew in his dark moments that the king would accept any excuse Eadric gave him and that he’d never lose his position, not while the king lived.

  Messengers reached them early the next morning, by which time the older athelings had also congregated at the king’s Witan. Leofwine had sent a messenger home with Frakki, one of Horic’s sons and another three men. No doubt Æthelflæd would be worried, but he hoped that his message would ally her fears of having her husband woken in the middle of the night, and rushed away from her.

  With the messengers came Eadric, aggressive and outraged. Without thought of precedence, he stamped his way into the king’s private room, only to be forcefully restrained at the last moment by the king’s household troops. Leofwine was amazed at the man’s timidity and watched with satisfaction as Æthelred’s face hardened at the upset.

  The news from the messengers was the worst that could be expected. A freak summer storm had blown up and scattered the ships at Sandwich so that they now had to work hard to regroup and find each other. Further north, Wulfnoth still harried the coastal areas, and it had been confirmed that Brihtric had formally taken eighty ships and set off in pursuit of the runaway.

  Leofwine wondered what effect the storm would have had on the pursuit but stilled his tongue. Right now he was more interested in Eadric’s petty excuses.

  Finally, the king allowed Eadric into his private room, and surrounded by his older sons, Leofwine and the men who made up the king’s intimate acquaintances, demanded answers from Eadric. He offered Eadric no chair and had him stand before everyone as though he were already facing trial for his treason.

  “My Lord king,” he began beseechingly, clearly having decided that the angry approach wasn’t going to work. “Why have you commanded me to come here and not allowed me to speak directly and in private with you?”

  “The crimes of your brother make it impossible for me to talk to you in private. You must be accountable for his crimes, and in allowing this argument with Wulfnoth to continue you have imperilled the entire ship-army, the whole country.”

  “I didn't my Lord. I told my brother that I’d not pursue Wulfnoth, although he spread lies about me. You have my word, my Lord. I wouldn’t go against your wishes. Any actions that he’s now taken can only be because he believes he’s acting in your best interests.”

  “Bah,” the king spat. “How can it be in my best interests if half my ship army is off either attacking my land or attacking my own ships. Explain to me Eadric how that can be for the good of my country?”

  “My Lord,” he sputtered, “my brother has a hot head, we all know that. Everyone in this room knows that. What he does, I can’t always be accountable for.”

  “Yes, you can, as I’m responsible for the actions of my sons and as you make Ealdorman Leofwine responsible for the action of his son, who you foster, and demanded to foster. Your excuses mean nothing to me, and simply show how little you respect the kingship, the kingdom and the effort that has gone into mounting the ship-army.”

  The king paused for breath then, and Leofwine held his breath to see what his next words would be.

  “I’m going to Sandwich, with my witan, to reinvigorate what remains of my ship-army. You need to find your brother and have him bring my ships back to me at Sandwich. You have seven days, no longer, and then, and only then, will I make a decision as to your future.”

  “My Lord king,” Eadric said shakily, “I’m your son by marriage.”

  “If you were my own child, I’d still punish you for this, as my sons know only too well. Now go. I only wish to see you when you have my 100 ships back, in full working order, and have put your dispute with Wulfnoth behind you. Do this Eadric, or you will lose everything, and I mean everything.”

  Bowing, although his eyes flashed angrily, Eadric swept from the room and could be heard shouting commands outside. Through the open doorway, Leofwine caught a glimpse of Northman, his eyes a little frightened although he held himself well. Looking to the king for permission, he went towards his son and spoke quickly to him.

  “Watch him Northman. See that he does as the king has commanded and report back to me, secretly, when we next meet. The king will welcome your help in this.”

  Northman, eyes as downcast as his foster-father’s nodded in understanding and went to walk away. Leofwine grabbed him then, a quick hug and no need for words, hopefully, unseen by Eadric.

  “Be well son,” he whispered, as Northman gave him a cheeky grin,

  “As always father,” he said, and was gone, in a swirl of his own cloak.

  Behind him, he felt a scuffle and was surprised when the king’s voice permeated his thoughts,

  “A good man, your oldest son?”

  “Yes, my Lord. The best. Although I’d rather, he was with me and not Eadric.”

  “Fostering is a difficult concept for parents to accept, but he’ll grow from his experience. Although, if Eadric can’t control his brother, I think you might get your boy back sooner than you thought.”

  Pleased that the king hadn’t forgotten his part in his son’s fostering, Leofwine smiled a little. Northman had been gone for nearly two years now, and that was too long. His son had grown tall, developed his muscles well and clearly still had his sense of duty and humour. Now, he needed to come home.

  Chapter 14

  AD1009 – Northman

  The rage sweeping from Eadric was a physical force, so powerful that it kept all his men of the household troop away from him, as he raced through the summer’s day. Northman was unsure where they were going, but assumed that it had to be north, to where he might find his brother.

  Northman was reminded of the conversation with the athelings only a month ago when they’d asked if Eadric had anything planned. He’d answered honestly then, and he’d not known that Eadric and his brother had arranged for such a devastating attack on the ship-army. It was so counter-productive to the future of the country that Northman could almost believe that it was all a mistake, a misunderstanding. But then he looked at Eadric and knew with certainty that this was exactly the sort of thing that Eadric was capable of.

  As usual, Olaf accompanied Northman everywhere he went, and so the two of them, and Eadric’s guard of twenty men, raced towards the east coast, no words exchanged between any of them.

  Northman wondered how Eadric thought he could find Brihtric when the coast was so vast, but received his answer two days later when the men met at what must have been a pre-ordained position, not quite at the Humber, but not far from it either.

  With dismay, Northman noticed that Brihtric was on land, surrounded by only a few of the original fleet. Where were the others?

  Without preamble Eadric greeted Brihtric,

  “You bloody fool,” he shouted, not heeding any around him, “what have you done with all the king’s ships?”

  “There was a storm,” his brother answered defiantly, his smile of welcome dropping from his face. “A massive storm that blew half the ships one way and half the other. There are many casualties. I’m lucky to be alive,” he finished, but Northman doubted that Eadric felt the same.

  “Better you’d died, you fool. The king is threatening me with treason, and half his ships are gone. Where’s Wulfnoth? Please tell me that you managed to capture him?”

  Brihtric looked pained now,

  “I only wish I could, but he’s gone. I don’
t know where.”

  Eadric stepped close to his brother now, and for a moment Northman thought he would hug his brother, but instead he punched him, hard on the nose.

  A cry of outrage from Brihtric as his nose erupted in a sea of bright red blood, and the two men attacked each other, cries of outrage erupting from both of them.

  The men of the household troop and those shipmen who were on dry land looked at each other uncertainty, and for once, Northman felt no remorse in not intervening. This altercation was a matter of brotherly concern and needed resolution as such.

  Eadric held his brother in a headlock, pounding on his face over and over again, only for Brihtric to tackle his legs and bring them both crashing down in an untidy heap, but one that he could exploit. He kicked Eadric over, where he lay sprawled on the wet sand, and when that only earned a mild groan of dismay, he picked his face up by the fabric at Eadric’s neck and beat him savagely with the other hand. And then he started to fumble for something at his belt, and Northman felt that now was the time to intervene. Before they killed each other.

  He shouted for the shipmen to do something, knowing that they wouldn’t owe their allegiance to Eadric and wouldn’t be punished for their intervention, and when they refused to do anything, he stepped forward ignoring the household troops. They’d never yet stopped a brawl their Lord was involved in and were unlikely to now.

  “Eadric,” he shouted, trying to work out where his foster-father’s face was.

  “Go away boy,” he growled, but Northman ignored him.

  “Your brother is getting his knife,” he shouted instead, and Eadric took a moment to look at what his brother was doing. Wiping blood and spit from his face, he followed Brihtric’s arm to where it still fumbled for the knife, or so Northman imagined.

  “Don’t be such a bloody fool,” Eadric hollered at his brother. “If you kill me, our father will kill you.”

  “I don’t care, you bastard. I did what you wanted and you come here and berate me. You’ve probably already betrayed me to the king. I’d rather you were dead and then your mouth can’t be put to any more ill use.”

  Eadric was trying to force Brihtric off him, unbalance him so that he couldn’t get at his knife, but he was having no luck. Aggrieved at the sight of the two men fighting in such an unruly manner, Northman stuck his foot out, and tripped Brihtric, who fell to the sandy floor with a growl of annoyance.

  Quick to react, Eadric was back on his feet, but Northman held him back from further attack, and Olaf now ran to help Brihtric to his feet as well.

  Both men were covered in a combination of wet sand, blood and mucus. And then, unbidden, Eadric started to laugh. Northman looked at him in surprise, how could he smile now? When Brihtric began to laugh as well, Northman walked away in disgust. He’d never understand these two men, no matter how long he knew them they always surprised him.

  As the men of the household troop made themselves a small campsite above the wash of the waves, Northman slumped to the floor and looked out at the depleted fleet. He no longer felt proud of his king’s achievements. No, he felt cheated. And by Eadric. Again.

  Chapter 15

  AD1009 - Northman – Sandwich

  They arrived at Sandwich on the evening of the king’s seventh night. Purposefully. Reinvigorated with the knowledge that he’d just about thwarted the king’s plans, Eadric had lingered on the eastern coast, talking with his brother, plotting further, and being ignorant of the need of his king and his people.

  Northman had held his aggravation in check as much as he could but, he was furious with Eadric. What made him think he could overpower the king’s wishes, bring them crashing down around everyone? What made him think he could make such decisions when the whole of England had been behind the scheme? The arrogance of the man shocked Northman, and he hoped, and he prayed a little, that this time, the king would take substantive action against his unruly ealdorman.

  He stayed closed to Eadric for all that, watching his every move, listening to every conversation. At night, he and Olaf would find a quite spot, unheard by any others or seen by anyone, and they’d share stories about what they’d learnt.

  The most damning evidence they had were still the words Brihtric and Eadric had initially flung at each other when they’d met. The shipmen had been gossiping amongst themselves, along with the ships captains, and Northman knew that the shearing of the king’s fleet had been pre-planned. The allegations against Wulfnoth were false, but everyone who knew him, knew that he was quick to take offence and so attacking him on spurious grounds had been sure to elicit a response. They’d not quite expected one quite so fast or huge, but it had all gone according to the half-hatched plans of Eadric and Brihtric.

  The ships that his brother had taken to find Wulfnoth had not only failed in their quest but had also managed to get themselves tangled in the large freak summer storm. Forty-six of the ships had been lost. Either they’d been sunk, or the ship men and their vessels had been scattered so far north that they’d not yet made it back to their original mustering point.

  Northman had said prayers each night for the shipmen who’d lost their lives at the whim of their God, and more importantly, an ealdorman who should have know better.

  He felt sickened every time he thought about those families who’d lost husbands, fathers and sons. To die at the hands of the Danish and other North men was bad enough. To die for nothing but a petty grudge was a waste of a good life.

  Eadric had said not one word about those who’d perished, and Olaf had overheard many disgruntled comments from the shipmen who remained. They thought that Eadric acted on the king’s orders and that by process of elimination, Brihtric did as well. Northman knew that the king would have to take firm action against Eadric, public action if he was to restore the faith of the men he had left to him. Every night that the ship docked on dry land, more and more of the men slunk away in the night, and Eadric ignored what was happening.

  Not that Northman blamed the men. No, he knew who was responsible.

  Sandwich was gloomy on that summer's evening, the pageant of Easter long forgotten. The ships, commanded by Brihtric had arrived before Eadric, but only just. Still, there’d been long enough before him for the king and his advisors to number the ships and know that they were now over fifty less than they had been. Unless of course, Wulfnoth had reappeared with his ships.

  The rest of the fleet was in place, as it had been at Easter. With squinting eyes, Northman noted that many of these ships had taken a battering in the storm as well, and some were beached on the ship, upended as a swarm of craftsmen refitted or fixed problems. He wondered if Halfdan was out there somewhere, repairing the ships he’d built with such pride, or whether he was as yet ignorant of the events that had befallen the ship army.

  Eadric and his men were escorted to where the king had taken shelter in the house of the local portreeve. The hall was a stunning example of craftsmanship, mounted with small touches that Northman would more commonly expect on a ship, but which made him realise just how much life on the land here revolved around the sea.

  At the doorway, Eadric dismissed his men and went inside to seek his king. Northman watched him pensively as the cries of the master craftsmen drifted from the harbour. And that was how his father found him.

  He smiled grimly at his son but reached out to embrace him, as he did every time they met. Those brief reminders of his life before fosterage were always a little painful, reminding him of what he missed out on, while at the same time, reinforcing his belief that what he was doing was for the good of his family.

  “Son,” Leofwine asked, “You’re well?”

  “Of course father. I’d like to say I was a little frayed from riding up and down the east coast at great speed, but regrettably, that’s not the case.”

  They moved away from the busy comings and goings at the king’s doorway and didn’t speak again until they walked upon the sandy shore of the beach, the gentle breeze carrying the cries of th
e men at work towards them, and making them mindful that they should be quiet in their conversations.

  Olaf joined them, as always, and Leofwine’s greeting for his friend’s son was almost as warm as that for Leofwine. Behind them, Oscetel and Wighard kept pace with them, ever vigilant.

  “Father, this was all planned by Eadric. He wanted to jeopardise the king’s endeavour. He’s made no secret of it, and the men who’re left on the ships are disgruntled, and many are sneaking away at night. It’s a total cock-up.”

  Leofwine nodded sadly at the confirmation of his fears.

  “The king has reached the same conclusion and is saddened by Wulfnoth’s implications in the scheme. But, I don’t know what the king plans to do about it. He’s spoken to me a little of his annoyance with Eadric but nothing more.”

  Northman looked out along the sea front, feeling the stirrings of joy at so many ships, ready and waiting for the attack that he hoped would never come.

  “I find him intolerable to be around,” Northman finally uttered, the recognition of the truth in his words showed by the violence with which the words fell out of his mouth.

  Leofwine’s eye closed in grief,

  “The king has hinted that he might allow you home if Eadric is found guilty of treason.”

  Northman’s face darkened,

  “We all know that’s as likely as snow in the summer father. Whatever Eadric is to the king, he’ll hold his place. Even after all this.”

  “You’ve a wise head on your shoulders,” Leofwine commented sourly, and Northman stopped in his tracks. His father sounded so sad, so aggrieved and so out of sorts. Northman realised at that moment the strain his father laboured under. Every single day he worked for his king, and every single day his king undermined his work and took the advice of those who were fools.