The Earl of Mercia

by M J Porter

  He thought back to his meeting with Cnut near Ribe. He’d thought the king had been in control of his emotions, but perhaps he too had been angry, and his fury had manifested itself in a rage that had forced him to attack as soon as he was able, as soon as he’d found his enemy. Perhaps the danger that the two kings had been to his young son had been too much for him; maybe he’d truly not intended to send him back to England and his action had been a spur of the moment thing, his rage and his fear guiding his movements and erupting into some sort of incoherent attack as soon as he were able to face his enemy.

  Either that or Cnut had, quite simply, been tricked. And if he’d been deceived this would only be the first of his attempts to claim back his father’s empire, and more and more men would perish.

  Yet for now Leofric needed to concentrate on his words, on not saying something inappropriate before the queen and the archbishop, before the king’s younger son and his daughter. It would be too easy to let his own grief, anger and upset infect his words.

  Luckily, the queen took pity on him and quickly hurried him to her side, so that he could speak more confidentially to her and as she did she handed him a strong mead and bid him to drink it. The men and women of the court were quickly dismissed to their duties, and Leofric caught a glimpse of his sister hurrying from the court. No doubt she would find Olaf and inform him gently of his brother’s loss.

  Tears threatened to squeeze through Leofric’s tight eyes, his throat making it almost impossible for him to speak, but the queen was patient with him, ushering him into her own private room.

  He was reminded of what a caring personality she truly had. This was no act for her. She’d known loss and she was deeply sympathetic to the shock he’d received.

  When he’d finally composed himself he looked into her soft face and knew that he didn’t need to speak of his personal grief for her to understand that he’d lost someone he cared for.

  A figure came into the queen’s room and Emma offered a sad smile to whoever it was, and then he felt his wife’s soft hands on his shoulders, and he lifted his head to look into her eyes. What he saw there was soft sympathy and an outpouring of love and understanding. It made their arguments about Lady Ælfgifu and Emma seem irrelevant.

  Still he had more to say to the queen and the three of them waited quietly, as he tried to compose himself, and then when he felt able he began to speak.

  He didn’t apologize to the queen, he knew that would anger her, but instead resumed his story, telling her everything he’d been told once more, and then he dug deep and told her the least important, but also the most worrying piece of news,

  “Earl Godwine wasn’t there. He never made it.” The queen sucked in a shocked breath at the words, her mouth falling open in shock as she glared at him.

  “Jon wouldn’t lie. He says they left because they couldn’t wait for Godwine anymore.”

  “But, well,” the queen stopped and tried again.

  “Where has he been then?” she queried but Leofric had no answer for her, and was relieved when she excused his wife and he, and he was able to join Ealdgyth and Olaf, and they could all share their grief in privacy.

  Anglo-Saxon Chronicle Entry for 1026

  A.D. 1025. (corrected to 1026 in line with Danish sources) This year went King Knute to Denmark with a fleet to the holm by the holy river; where against him came Ulf and Eglaf, with a very large force both by land and sea, from Sweden. There were very many men lost on the side of King Knute, both of Danish and English; and the Swedes had possession of the field of battle.

  Chapter 14

  Summer AD1027

  “I wish you further to know, that, returning by the way I went, I am now going to Denmark, to conclude a treaty for a solid peace, all the Danes concurring, with those nations and peoples who would have taken my life and crown if it had been possible; but this they were not able to accomplish, God bringing their strength to nought. May He, of his merciful kindness, uphold me in my sovereignty and honour, and henceforth scatter and bring to nought the power and might of all my adversaries!”

  “When, therefore, I shall have made peace with the surrounding nations, and settled and reduced to order all my dominions in the East, so that we shall have nothing to fear from war or hostilities in any quarter, I propose to return to England as early in the summer as I shall be able to fit out my fleet. I have sent this epistle before me in order that my people may be gladdened at my success; because, as you yourselves know, I have never spared, nor will I spare, myself or my exertions, for the needful service of my whole people.”

  “I now therefore command and adjure all my bishops and the governors of my kingdom, by the duty they owe to God and myself, to take care that before I come to England all dues belonging to God, according to the old laws, be fully discharged; namely, plough-alms, the tithe of animals born in the current year, and the pence payable to St. Peter at Rome, whether from towns or vills; and in the middle of August the tithes of corn; and at the feast of St. Martin the first-fruits of grain payable to every one’s parish church, called in English ciric-sceat. If these and such-like dues be not paid before I come, those who make default will incur fines to the king, according to law, which will be strictly enforced without mercy. Farewell.”

  Leofric listened to the king’s letter being read in the great hall with unease, his eyes flickering between Queen Emma and Earl Godwine. Emma looked regal; her years weighing lightly on her slight frame and yet even he could tell that she was furious. The king had been gone for too long and in his absence, England had simply forged its own path, only led along it, not by Cnut, but rather by Earl Godwine, who was never far away from any important decisions that needed making or from the possibility of meddling in affairs that weren’t his to interfere in.

  Leofric knew that the queen was angry. Cnut had made his way to Rome, to witness the coronation of the new emperor at Easter, to forge closer links with his empire, but all Emma wanted was Cnut back within England, ruling as he should, and at her side.

  That the people of England were peaceful was nothing to do with Cnut’s efforts, but rather her own, and those of the bishops and the men who held positions of power. Leofric would have liked to number himself amongst them, but he wasn’t convinced that was how the king saw it.

  Ever since his failed expedition to treat with Olaf Haraldsson, when he’d been tasked with returning Harthacnut to his mother, he’d been virtually ignored by the king, perhaps not because his mission had ultimately failed, but because Leofric had so rarely seen the king. And really, the king had set him up to fail, his main objective hadn’t been a peace, but rather a delaying tactic so that Cnut could reach the area where Olaf Haraldsson and Anund Jakob intended to make war. In that, he’d failed because Olaf and Anund Jakob had moved quicker than the king.

  But that wasn’t what employed Leofric’s thoughts; rather it was the figure of Earl Godwine.

  He stood beside the queen, almost more regal than she was, and for all that he wore no crown, he may as well have done. The men and women of the court listened carefully to his words, believed that he spoke with the power of the king behind him, and few knew how unhappy Emma was with the arrangement, and how much Godwine had taken advantage of the king’s absence to grow his own powerbase, even ignoring his direct commands when he disagreed with them. Leofric needed to think no further than Godwine’s refusal to take his ship-men to join in the king’s war with Olaf and Anund Jakob, even though he’d pretended to, absenting himself from the queen’s presence rather than face her fury at his constant refusal.

  When the king returned, or rather if he did, for Leofric realized that another battle must take place between Cnut and his enemies for any sort of peace to be agreed upon, he would find his place filled by a man he thought was his most loyal supporter, but whom he might come to regret placing too much trust within.

  Leofric wasn’t convinced, and neither was the queen, of Godwine’s good intentions. His sister had whispered to him
of her worries, and as he sat and listened to the rumble of conversation following the reading of the king’s letter to his subjects, Leofric could understand why.

  He’d tried to avoid the Witan as much as possible since his return from Norway and Denmark, not wanting to hear his failure spoken about with so much delight, and then, when the ‘victory’ that Cnut had so desperately craved had cost him the life of his oldest friend, he’d also turned bitter. That he’d failed to create a peace where his father might once have succeeded had damaged his reputation, and the king’s prolonged absence was making it almost impossible to rehabilitate it, especially with Earl Godwine’s malignant presence at the court.

  Leofric had spent many years trying to be friendly with Cnut’s favorite English earl, but he’d failed, and he could see no way that their relationship would ever be repaired. Not with matters as they now stood.

  Indeed it was Earl Godwine who continued to speak, at this special calling of the Witan, where the earls, sheriffs and holy men had been summoned to listen to Cnut’s wishes and to pledge their support for his measures and to offer praises for his great victory in becoming an ally of the Emperor and in meeting the Pope.

  Leofric watched carefully, trying not to display his fury at how ineffective he felt. He’d tried to like Godwine in the past, to support him because of his close ties to the king, both through marriage and through his personal loyalty, but he was finding his patience increasingly tested, and he didn’t just blame Godwine.

  He also knew it was the fault of Cnut, and also, and he little liked to even think it, of the queen. She’d failed to support his family as he’d thought she would, instead trying to build her own cohort of supporters, and that meant that she needed to twist and turn with the quickly changing political climate and often that meant leaving her few remaining allies behind. She seemed to have no problem doing so and Leofric was quickly learning that his own allegiance shouldn’t be set in stone either.

  “Bishops, earls, men of the Witan, and of course, the queen,” Godwine began and Leofric stifled his exasperation, trying to shake it from his body. He needed to have an open mind to Godwine’s words and not already been predisposed against them if he was to have any chance of reconciling himself with the man and of being able to work with him in the future.

  Silence rang through the hall, louder than a church bell, and Leofric smirked. Godwine had the gravitas to command men, Cnut should perhaps have considered this before he gifted him with anymore power.

  “The king has accomplished a great many things. He led his men against the alliance of Olaf Haraldsson and Anund Jakob of Sweden, and sadly we lost some of our men, but came away as victors, dispersing the two allies; he’s ensured that Denmark is safe from attack, and that the trading routes to the east are secure as well by reclaiming Skåne. But more,” Godwine’s voice had risen at the slight hum of hostility through the hall. There were few people calling the Battle of Holy River a victory and not a defeat. Many men had drowned, both Danish and English, and not many thought it was the victory that Godwine spoke of, Leofric amongst them.

  “He’s been to the holy city of Rome, he’s made an alliance with Emperor Conrad, and now he’s determined to finally remove Olaf Haraldsson from Norway, and recreate the empire his father once laid claim to.” Godwine’s voice rose as he spoke, almost thundering when he spoke of Cnut’s empire and Leofric realized that Godwine was about to entice the men to pay for Cnut’s wars again. Cnut might have spoken of funds for the Church in his letter home, but in doing so, he opened up the possibility of collecting taxes for the ships and war equipment he needed as well. Soon would come a demand for men to join Cnut in Denmark and Leofric suddenly wondered which of the king’s most loyal followers would be sent to accompany the warriors this time. Surely it wouldn’t be Earl Godwine, not after his actions the previous year.

  He looked at Godwine carefully. Was he setting himself up to accompany the king or to remain behind? He’d refused to accompany his king at the Battle of Holy River. Did he think he’d be able to get away with the same evasiveness again?

  In the grand scheme of things, Cnut had very much left England to rule itself, content that his hold was secure. Would he further denude it of his few remaining allies in order to fulfill his ultimate ambition to be as powerful as his father?

  He’d like to say Cnut wouldn’t, but Leofric knew the ambitions of the Danish men. They never let anything so small as a country to keep secure stand in the way of their next conquest, or re-conquest, as this would be.

  Suddenly he wondered if he should suggest he travel with the men. But then, he was already snubbed by his earlier failure. Perhaps it was best to simply remain behind, let Cnut win his battle, and then hopefully, he’d return home and support his loyal followers. If not, Leofric could see his life being one that accomplished very little.

  “He has many men to command from Denmark already but the English must also support their king, and so you must all send your best men to reinforce the king. Only those in the northern lands close to the border with the Scots are exempt.”

  Leofric expected the men to argue against the necessity, but it seemed that none of them were prepared to make a name for themselves by refusing the wishes of their king, as unhappy as they were about the king’s previous battle. He mused on just how changed the men of Witan were. Whereas under Æthelred there would have been more than a handful of ealdormen to serve their king, now there was only Earl Godwine who could stand and represent his countrymen. The other earls were from Cnut’s homeland; the most notable of them being Earl Hakon, the man who should be ruling Norway for Cnut, in place of Olaf Haraldsson who’d claimed it for himself.

  No doubt Earl Hakon would want to lead the men for his king and yet he’d not spoken for himself. Leofric liked Hakon, he always had. It was Earl Hrani, who’d made himself difficult in his dealings with Leofric, and it was he who now ruled as Earl of Mercia, after the problems Cnut had encountered with his brother-in-law, Earl Ulfr, and by extension, his brother, Earl Eilifr.

  Earl Sihtric and Earl Thrym were the only other two men within the hall who were in a position of power. Yet none of them spoke. Leofric could only suppose that they already knew who would be commanding the men.

  One thing was a certainty. Leofric could do nothing until Cnut returned to England and his position wouldn’t change either. He was destined to remain as sheriff, not earl, and the continued delay was starting to chaff. He was a patient man, he always had been, but it was become intolerable and more and more he was reminded of the Lady Ælfgifu and her desire that he support her sons with Cnut and not Emma’s.

  “As soon as the warriors and ships assemble, they’ll set sail for Denmark and take their instructions from there. For those who remain behind, I’d request that you do as your king says, gather together the tithes, and ensure that we don’t incite our Lord God to look unfavorably on our king’s enterprises.”

  Leofric couldn’t begrudge Earl Godwine his words, and yet he wished he could. But Godwine had always spoken well. That was part of his charm and why, when he’d aligned himself with the winning sides camp when England had been plunged into almost civil war, he’d managed to continually build on his lucky choice, a choice that Leofric’s own father had been unable to make, his loyalties torn by a man he admired and a man he served.

  Even now, the repercussions of his father’s decision affected the future of the House of Leofwine and until Cnut won his empire, Leofric had little chance of doing anything but being one of the herd who followed his king’s commands, even if they were voiced through Earl Godwine.

  Yet Leofric was not just going to let his future unravel before him. He had plans and while his sister was convinced that the queen would ultimately see his family rewarded as they should be, he was looking further afield, and not to Godwine. No, Earl Godwine was not the key to his success and neither was the queen, but perhaps the Lady Ælfgifu was.

  The queen might conveniently forget that Cnut had
another wife, but Leofric could not. She was the mother of his two sons, young boys but with the potential to be men as powerful as their father, and Cnut openly acknowledged the boys, if he hadn’t, Emma wouldn’t have tried so hard to ensure that her own son with Cnut succeeded to the English kingdom after his father’s death, and neither, or so he thought, would she have allowed Harthacnut to represent his father in Denmark. She had her eye on the future, and Leofric was determined to do the same.

  Godwine had, by now, moved away from the front of the hall, and instead, the Archbishop of Canterbury was reinforcing the religious tone of Cnut’s letter while Leofric listened to the whispered conversations around him. It seemed that many of the men, those who hadn’t played any part in the naval battle the previous year, were keen to try once more. They too realized that the way to win the regard of Cnut was to help him achieve what he wanted, to hold control over an empire that stretched as far as his father’s once had.

  The Archbishop, Æthelnoth, had long been a supporter of Cnut and he actively spoke in favor of the king’s request for warriors and also his actions in calling for the church tithe. Leofric listened but none of what he heard was new. Æthelnoth had himself been to Rome, had even travelled in Denmark on Cnut’s commands. In fact, many of Cnut’s most loyal men had been to Denmark. Leofric wasn’t even alone in that.

  He sighed and tried to concentrate. He didn’t want to be caught out being anything less than fully attentive.

  When the archbishop had spoken, Earl Hakon replaced him at the front of the king’s hall. It was his uncle who’d lost his life in the initial attack from Olaf Haraldsson, nearly ten years ago, and although it hadn’t affected his relationship with Cnut, it had always been accepted that when Cnut was able to reclaim what he’d lost, that Hakon would rule in his name, just as his father had done before him.