The Briton and the Dane: Timeline

by Mary Ann Bernal

  While there was plenty of ale, neither of the men drank in excess, nor did they object when a kitchenmaid set a platter of charred meat, cheese and bread upon the table before returning to the kitchens.

  “Was this your idea, Raulf?” Erik asked as he broke off a section of bread.

  “I believe it was the sergeant’s,” Raulf replied.

  “Have our numbers increased as the king promised?”

  “We have lost many to the harvesting,” Raulf said in-between bites. “They will return if they are called. The young boys are eager, spending long days on the training field, but they are yet to be tested. Our seasoned warriors are few, which is why I agreed to the king’s proposal.”

  Erik looked at Wynstan, holding his tongue as Raulf continued speaking.

  “There is a squad comprised of Normans; their wages are paid directly from King Edward’s coffers. Distant cousins, or so I was told.”

  “There are also Harold Godwinson’s relations,” Wynstan interjected.

  “Are we capable of defending the king against his enemies at a moment’s notice?” Erik asked.

  “The citadel would be left defenseless,” Raulf replied.

  ***

  Once Erik and Wynstan were alone, Erik expressed his concerns about the opposing political factions living within the fortification. He was not pleased that the loyalty of the army as a whole was questionable. If Harold Godwinson succeeded the king, and Duke William challenged the claim, the allegiance of the soldiers would be suspect.

  “Your return is timely,” Wynstan said. “Seymour is not aware we are privy to his duplicity. I have told no one, especially Raulf. I know you trust him, but I have my reservations. He was seen with Rheda in the village. Her services were no longer needed once you and Gwyneth left. Aedre has been watchful and visits Rheda frequently, but the woman is secretive. I believe Raulf is trying to sway our men, especially those not experienced in the ways of the world. He would have them support King Harald when the time came. If the Norman Duke and Harold Godwinson kill each other vying for the crown, then the Norwegian king can take the throne easily, and he would have our army to back his claim.”

  “Where is Brother Damian?”

  “I do not know,” Wynstan said, somewhat worried. “It has been a fortnight, and I have not received word, and truthfully, I fear for his life.”

  “Surely, Seymour would not murder a man of the cloth?”

  “My lord, did not the Norsemen kill the holy monks at Lindisfarne? No, the cowl does not protect him. I send out scouting parties each day, but they do not travel the same ground as a courier for the king. Brother Damian could have been attacked anywhere, his body being left for the animals. If he does not return soon, then he is either dead or being held captive, but where?”

  “My prisoner might shed some light on Brother Damian’s whereabouts.”

  “The seaman? He is not from here,” Wynstan replied.

  “That is true, but he was seen speaking with Hugh, the man who had followed us from Calais. The Norwegian king’s spies hide amongst us. I would think Pierre knows the identity of the messengers traveling along the coast. He might even know the location of strongholds, places where Brother Damian might be kept if he were still alive. I must speak with Captain Jean Michel this evening. He wishes to sail in the morning. See that six casks of ale are delivered to his ship, and make sure his men are watched. I do not want any trouble.”

  Chapter Twenty Two

  The seamen sat in the great hall, drinking heavily as the minstrel walked about the room, singing softly as he played his lyre. The invited officers exchanged good-natured remarks, wishing to be hospitable for their commander’s sake. The Saxons chose their words deliberately, believing them to be Breton spies serving the Norman Duke. Given the chance, Duke William would annex Brittany to his Duchy, just as he would claim Britannia’s throne. There was one lieutenant who spoke openly, discussing the instability of the region truthfully. The Norman, Verrill, cousin to King Edward. He was quite vocal, and loud, and irritating to everyone but the Bretons. The more they drank, the noisier they became, spilling their ale while slamming their flasks upon the table. Wynstan was not amused as he watched from the upper gallery, keeping an eye on the soldiers who outranked him. Notably missing was Godwinson’s man, Norris, which concerned Wynstan, especially since he questioned the loyalties of every man in the hall. It appeared that the entire lot commiserated with the Normans, and this was not a good sign.

  “Poking about again, Wynstan?” Aedre whispered.

  “You should not be here.”

  “I have a message for Erik,” Aedre said conspiratorially. “Rheda knows Gwyneth has returned; the entire village is aware. She will ask to be retained in Erik’s household, and I think she should be offered the position. Easier to follow her movements. Obviously, the decision rests with Erik. Look, Raulf is joining Verrill.”

  “Erik is with their captain, but we meet later. Find Gwyneth, tell her what you have told me.”

  ***

  Since Erik preferred to meet with Captain Jean Michel privately, he escorted his guest to the Keep, climbing the stairs unhurriedly. The captain was surprised to find a food-laden table sitting in the southeast corner, which provided a splendid view of the restless sea as forceful waves crashed against the rocks. Erik poured the wine and beckoned his guest to sit.

  “This was not expected,” Captain Jean Michel said, raising his cup in a toast.

  Erik waved his goblet towards the captain before taking a sip. He grabbed a handful of nuts, popping the seeds in his mouth a few at a time while looking at the wind-blown waves.

  “Pierre knows nothing of plots,” Captain Jean Michel told him while taking a piece of meat. “This is tasty. How is it prepared?”

  “I shall have my cook write instructions. Why do you think he is innocent?”

  “I care little for intrigue, and the same can be said for my crew. We sail the coast delivering cargo, that is all. Yes, we do hear things, but we stay clear of the disgruntled. They play a dangerous game of which I want no part.”

  “He was seen by my wife.”

  “I believe the man you speak of, Hugh, is his kin.”

  “Convenient,” Erik said sarcastically.

  “Would you throw me in chains because my brother serves a contender to the throne, but I do not? Is that justice, my lord?”

  “Erik.”

  “Erik, I have heard the stories. A childless ruler must name a successor while he still lives. There will always be speculation and contenders. Most of the plotting dissolves once an heir is chosen, and that is my point. No one is conspiring to usurp a throne, not here, nor in my country. Your king remains well and should have a long reign, Lord willing. You make accusations, but where is your evidence? Pierre has not committed any crime and should be freed. I cannot leave without him. Tell me what I must do to convince you that he is poses no harm to you or your king.”

  “I will take you into my confidence, but should I find that I have been betrayed, your life is forfeit.”

  “I swear upon my mortal soul that I am worthy of your trust. What passes between us this night will never be repeated. I am a man of my word.”

  “It is as you said,” Erik told him. “No one plots to overthrow my king. It is the succession that is worrisome. The contenders seek supporters, and that is the problem. Warriors are being sought, and noblemen are being seduced with promises of riches and acreage. There will be a battle, of that I am certain. Loyalties will be tested, and I fear the rightful king will be betrayed. I do not want a Norseman or a Norman sitting on a Saxon throne. You may or may not know the identities of the messengers serving these pretenders, but if you know something, I would have you tell me. And if you can convince Pierre to answer my questions truthfully, then he will be free to sail with you.”

  ***

  It was quiet in the dark windowless cell, a solitary candle scarcely shedding light. Pierre laid on the straw bed, wrapping the fur-lined
blanket around him since he was chilled to the bone. He was angry because he had been falsely accused by a stranger, a man of noble birth. While he understood why his captain had taken the nobleman’s word as truth, he was disappointed that Captain Jean Michel had not challenged Erik. He resented being treated like a criminal, being tied to the mast was humiliating. How could he face any of them again once he was freed?

  So the fair lady had seen him speaking with Hugh. What of it? They were not breaking any laws. And here he was again, paying the price for his brother’s offenses. He had been aware that Hugh was involved in something unlawful, something that could cost him his life. He had tried to reason with him, even begged him to leave the seaport. Hugh’s involvement with the Norseman would be his ruin, and now his life was in jeopardy because his brother had made him privy to the treachery. Calais was no longer safe for either of them, which is why Pierre had signed on as a seafarer. He had chosen to settle in Brest, believing the distant port was his salvation. A place to begin again without fear of reprisal. It appeared he had chosen well as the months wore on. He had managed to acquire a dwelling near the harbor, two rooms, plenty of space for one person. He even had a woman, which was surprising, given the scar that ran down his face. He truly fancied her and was even thinking of making her his wife when he returned from this voyage. He wondered if Rose would shed any tears when he failed to return, and he also wondered if the captain would tell her the truth of his captivity.

  ***

  The soldier guarding the cell stood at attention, saluting his commander when Erik appeared. Captain Jean Michel followed his host into the small chamber, his eyes unaccustomed to the darkness. The captain was surprised by the cleanliness and the furniture since he had expected to see Pierre chained to the wall, sitting in his own filth. Captain Jean Michel found Erik’s humane treatment of prisoners admirable, but he did not say a word as he sat upon the bench. The guard placed a burning torch into a wall bracket, its fiery light illuminating the room, its brightness causing Pierre to shield his eyes. Captain Jean Michel noticed half-eaten food upon the table and was thankful that Pierre had been treated well.

  “Your captain has vouched for you,” Erik told Pierre, “and if you answer my questions truthfully, then you will be free to sail tomorrow.”

  “If my words are repeated, then I shall be slain by the assassin’s hand,” Pierre replied, “but know that I have played no part in any of this, it is not of my doing, I am innocent.”

  “What is Hugh to you?”

  “He is my brother.”

  Erik had not expected such an answer, and his compassion was reflected in his eyes. Pierre noticed the look, and his fears heightened.

  “What are you not telling me?”

  “There was a storm ... buildings were set ablaze ... your brother died in a fire.”

  “Where?” Pierre asked

  “He had been housed at an abbey near the vast mountain range. He was overcome by smoke and did not suffer,” Erik lied.

  Pierre should have shed a tear in mourning for his errant brother, but for some reason, he could not. He appeared relieved, which was understandable given Hugh’s criminal past. His brother had always schemed, whether it was having someone else do his chores or stealing food in the marketplace without being caught. Pierre had warned him, told him he would eventually be apprehended, but Hugh would not listen, not when they were children and not now.

  “What do you want to know?” Pierre asked, his soft voice echoing in the quietness.

  “Your brother had been following my wife and I when we were on pilgrimage. I would know why.”

  “I do not know.”

  “Tell me what you do know.”

  “He had been approached by a man. Magnus, I believe he is called. He was promised immeasurable wealth for his services. He said it was a simple task .... he was merely collecting information, that was all. When I pressed him further, he confessed this Magnus was a Norseman, and I reminded him of the risks. It was common knowledge that King Harald covets your king’s crown, and if he was captured, he would die a traitor’s death.”

  “Where might I find this Magnus?” Erik interjected.

  “My brother met him in Calais, but he never stays long. I believe he resides in Oslo, but he travels to your coast. Dunwich, I think. That is where he meets his spies.”

  “If someone were to be detained by one of Magnus’ men, would they be taken to Dunwich?”

  “My lord, I am just repeating what was told to me, but if I were to speculate...”

  “Did he tell you anything about me or my wife?”

  “I have told you everything I know,” Pierre said. “I do not meddle in the affairs of kings, nor do I care to place anyone upon a throne. My offense is being kin to a man whose fealty lies with himself. My brother deserved his fate, but I do not deserve to be treated unjustly.”

  “You are right,” Erik replied, “and you will receive reparation for being detained unlawfully.”

  “What kind of man is this?” Captain Jean Michel said to himself as Erik opened the door and spoke with the guard.

  “I prefer sleeping on the ship,” Pierre told his captain.

  “I, also,” Captain Jean Michel grinned. “I am pleased the issue has been resolved.”

  Once the guard returned, Erik handed Pierre a purse of coins, placing the velvet pouch in his hand, which the seafarer accepted eagerly.

  “Soldier, escort this man to his ship.”

  “Yes, commander!” the soldier replied before leading Pierre away.

  “Your men are in the hall, probably in their cups by this time. Do you wish to join them?”

  “I never drink with my crew; it is unwise,” Captain Jean Michel replied, “but I would ask your sergeant to make certain they are aboard once the sun rises.”

  “I will see to it, but there is one thing,” Erik said. “I would have you keep me informed of your crew’s allegiance, and if they plot this night against the true king.”

  ***

  Wynstan waited until the seafarers walked unsteadily out of the hall before joining Erik at the Keep. He had appointed men to watch the unsavory crew, escorting them to their assigned quarters and standing guard outside the door. He would be glad when the foreigners were gone, but he suspected they would return one day.

  Fluffy clouds covered the moon, the intermittent beams casting light upon the stairs. Wynstan climbed them two at a time, but was out of breath for his trouble by the time he reached the top.

  “My lord,” Wynstan said, making his presence known.

  “It is as we feared. King Harald is seeking supporters, and it is my belief that Brother Damian is being held prisoner somewhere in Dunwich.”

  “Pierre said this?”

  “He did not know Brother Damian’s fate, but he did shed light on the seaport. The man we seek is named Magnus.”

  “Verrill was with the seafarers for most of the night, and Raulf also drank with them. They were senseless when they left. There is a guard stationed outside their chambers,” Wynstan added when he noticed Erik’s concerned look.

  “The sun cannot rise soon enough,” Erik replied. “While I no longer suspect Pierre, I cannot say the same for Captain Jean Michel’s crew.”

  “I am also concerned since Verrill spoke in their tongue, and Raulf handed one of them a note, slipped it into the man’s hand.”

  “It would seem Raulf is serving two masters,” Erik whispered, “but which king would he set upon the throne?”

  Chapter Twenty Three

  The night seemed endless as Gwyneth paced her chambers, waiting for Erik to return. She had lost control of her emotions, being too distraught when she thought of her sons. She was fortunate her enemies had not seen her hysteria, lest they detected her weakness and that knowledge could lead to her demise. She was not sorry that Father Gerard had witnessed her outburst, his wise counsel was what she needed to hear. Yes, the loss of her children was heartbreaking, but she must not lose herself in her mo
urning. Impassioned grief damaged the soul. She could now come to terms with her guilt, accepting what she could never change and keeping their memory alive in her heart. She had to keep her wits, otherwise, Erik might suffer unduly. If her husband’s thoughts were clouded because of his concern for her wellbeing, he would be blinded by the treachery unfolding before him. No, she had been an independent and determined woman before she found herself in an age of inequality where she had conformed only too well. The impulsive behavior stopped now, this very night. Outwardly, she would still be seen as the perfect wife and mistress of the household, but inwardly she was Gwyneth Franger, Ph.D.

  “Gwyneth?” Aedre whispered as she entered the room through the concealed doorway.

  “Who is there?” Gwyneth asked from the outer chamber upon hearing her name called.

  “Rest easy, child, it is I, Aedre.”

  “Aedre, I am so pleased to see you,” Gwyneth replied, embracing the woman she admired. “Have you seen Erik? It is very late, and he has not sent word.”

  “He meets with Wynstan. Do not worry, he is quite safe, but we must talk.”

  Gwyneth followed Aedre into the bedchamber, sitting upon the bed expectantly as Erik’s nursemaid held her hand when she sat beside her.

  “It concerns Rheda.”

  “She is still here?”

  “In the village, but she will be seeking her old position serving you and living in your household. Wynstan and I believe you should agree, and he will broach the subject with your husband. Seymour has not been seen in these parts for many months, but she and Raulf have been extremely friendly, too friendly in my opinion. She claims he fancies her, and she believes he wants her for his wife. Since she is besotted, she is easily manipulated, but how, I am unsure. We learned of Seymour’s allegiance by accident. I was visiting when a messenger arrived, and I recognized the imprint on the sealed parchment before Rheda placed it in a drawer. She had sent the man away, but I saw them together later, meeting outside the stables before he left. Shortly thereafter, Raulf sought her company.”