The Earl of Mercia

by M J Porter

  It was frustrating for Leofric. He preferred Harthacnut to Harald and Swein, but he felt more allegiance to the contrary Ælfgifu than he did to Emma. He almost wished he could swap the mothers and sons around.

  Emma was a skilled woman at the king’s court. She understood the art of politics and as such she was effervescent in her patronage. Like Cnut, she offered much but gave far less. Ælfgifu wore her emotions openly, but Leofric preferred knowing how she felt, even if it infuriated him to do so.

  Ælfgifu took bold actions whereas Emma was almost too scared to make a decision without ensuring there was some one else she could blame if that decision backfired.

  “My father is keen to speak with you privately,” Harthacnut uttered, his eyes still on Hund and he spoke in such a way that it seemed he was talking to the dog rather than to Leofric.

  “My thanks,” Leofric said. There was no need to say more. Cnut had publicly greeted him but it seemed there were still some private words they needed to share. “I’ll seek him when I’m able.”

  Harthacnut stood up straight and grinned.

  “I’d like one of your hounds, one day,” he said, and then he walked away. Leofric wondered when he’d see the boy again, and whether he’d still be a boy, or a man. He’d happily gift him a hound as soon as he asked for one, but also appreciated the promise in those words. As young as he was, Harthacnut wanted to make it clear that he thought of Leofric as an ally, not just a friend. That cheered him.

  It was then that Cnut called his hall to order. He was smiling and buoyant and Leofric felt his good mood seep throughout the hall. No matter where he looked, people were smiling and yet waited expectantly for Cnut to speak.

  “My friends,” he began, his grin growing wider at the dull cheer sweeping through the hall. “I’m pleased to be amongst you all and would thank you all personally for the assistance you’ve given to me over the last few years. I can tell you that Norway is secured and that Earl Hakon rules there. Regrettably, Olaf Haraldsson still lives but that is only a temporary setback. He’s being hunted.” The cheers grew at the words and Cnut’s smile worked its way even wider over his handsome face.

  “I personally delivered my daughter into the welcoming arms of her husband’s family, and they were immediately taken with her, and I receive a letter from her each and every month in which she tells me how happy she is. I also met her future husband. He’s a bright and intelligent boy and I have great hopes for their future together.”

  Leofric swiveled his eyes away from Cnut’s rapt face to glance at Emma’s and was surprised to see that she looked just as happy as her husband. He’d thought she might have shown more remorse for her lost child. Clearly not.

  “Skåne too has been returned to my rule and is managed in my absence by my sister, Estrid, but my son, Harthacnut, will return there and govern in my name, and with the aid of my sister, Estrid Sweinsdottir.”

  Leofric was pleased to hear that assembled crowd were supportive of Estrid’s role in the future of Cnut’s empire. Despite everything that her dead husband and his brother had tried to do to claim the kingdom of Denmark for themselves, Estrid wasn’t tainted with his treason. Cnut had dealt with his brother-in-law in a brutally efficient way. He was dead and their mother had claimed his sons wholly. It would be their grandfather that they took their descent from on their mother’s side, not their father’s. Leofric spared a thought for the boys, growing up without a father, but then his pity drained away. They were the nephews of a king. They’d not suffer as his nephews had from the taint of treason.

  “It is my intention to soon return to England, and remain here as often as I can, but first, I will take my son to Denmark and ensure that the transition there is smooth. As such I would beg a boon from you all and ask you to continue to maintain order within England for me until I can once more return here.” As buoyed up as everyone was, those words still caused a faint ripple of unease and Leofric winced at the news. Would the king never stop pushing his English subjects? It seemed not.

  “In three days, the archbishop will conduct a great service of thanksgiving for our successes and then we will bid Harthacnut goodbye. It will be a wonderful celebration and then I will briefly return to Denmark and settle my son once more before I spend the Christmas season with you all.”

  The king made no illusion to the ills that afflicted England and Leofric thought he was wise not to, not until he was assured of remaining in England. It wouldn’t do to stir up bad feeling and then walk away.

  His eyes turned traitor and flickered toward Godwine. Godwine’s back was rigid, and Leofric could only imagine the conflict of emotions he was feeling. How would he react to Cnut returning to England for a protracted period of time? Leofric almost wished he didn’t have to find out but quickly changed his mind. He was, he couldn’t deny, looking forward to the king finally understanding just what tricks Godwine had been up to in his absence.

  It seemed that the king had little more to say formally and instead, and as he’d said, began to move between people, personally speaking to them all. Leofric could hear his soft murmurs and imagined he was using his prolific memory to thank each and every person for their own endeavors on his behalf. Leofric knew it was the right thing to do, but he’d already spoken to the king, and he had something far more important to be doing.

  He turned and sought out Orkning, Olaf and his sister, his son still with them. They were speaking quietly at the back of the king’s hall, but their combined joy was as clear to see as Cnut’s and Leofric decided he’d rather be speaking with his family than his king.

  Orkning and Olaf were talking intently and Leofric almost hesitated to interfere, but true to her inquisitive nature, Hund had no such hesitation and quickly inserted herself between the two brothers, and as soon as he’d done that, Orkning and Olaf recalled they weren’t alone and beckoned for Leofric to join them.

  Leofric doubted that they’d heard a single word that Cnut had said, but Cnut’s words hadn’t been anything new. It was his mingling with his subjects now that was the novel element, and as Leofric had already spoken to him once, and would need to again, he felt no remorse in foregoing a faked conversation before the earl and the thegns and holy men.

  Ealdgyth, both of her children sitting on their father’s or uncle’s laps, had managed to find a fine wine for them all to toast Orkning’s return, and she’d also ordered a great feast of fine English food be prepared, so that they all sat in a close knit group, joking and laughing, and more importantly assuring Orkning that his wife hadn’t forsaken him and taken a new husband. Not that Orkning could have blamed her for such an act, but he was obviously pleased that there’d be no awkwardness when he rode home to her, which he planned to do the very next day.

  “I’ve been gone far too long. I imagine I have men where I once had sons!” He joked as he spoke, but Leofric could sense the sadness that hovered over the man. He’d missed two years of his family’s life and he’d never be able to reclaim those lose years.

  “No, but you do have women where you once had daughters,” Olaf teased him and Orkning’s groan made all of them roar with laughter. Olaf had even spoken to Leofric about the problem of Orkning’s older daughters, but it was Ealdgyth who shushed the men, a haughty expression on her face.

  “The matter is being dealt with,” she informed them all with mock severity, and their laughter grew even louder. The matter of husbands for daughters was one that Leofwine had long struggled with Ealdgyth about. It seemed she was determined to ensure that her nieces were able to choose as freely as she’d once been allowed to.

  “And Oscetel?” Orkning thought to ask.

  “He yet lives, but his memory is a mess. I imagine he’ll remember you very well when you next see him, and probably won’t recall that you’ve been missing for two years. It’ll do the pair of you good,” Leofric said with asperity. He didn’t want Orkning to fear returning to his own home, or to Leofric’s in Worcester.

  “And what of other
matters?” Orkning asked, but Olaf shushed him.

  “Later brother, much later. For now we should drink until we’re sick and then we’ll sleep until we’re sick with thirst, and then we’ll do it all over again.” Olaf’s good humor rang through the hall, and many praised his words. Leofric thought it would be a long and tiring night of celebration, but having his friend returned to him was worth the pain of the hangover he’d end up with and so he swirled his drinking horn, and quickly gulped down the pleasant and tangy wine.

  “A gift from the queen,” Ealdgyth offered defensively, when he raised his eyebrows at the smooth tasting wine. This was none of the usual stuff left for the household troop and servants.

  “A fine gift,” he echoed, extending his drinking horn for a refill, as Ealdgyth swiped her hand over his head in an effort to still his exuberant mood. He ducked out of way but managed to grab the bottle of wine and fill his cup before she could object. Her face showed mock outrage and that just made the brothers laugh even harder.

  Ælfgar watched his family intently, and then rolled his eyes at the drinking he knew was about to hamper them all, and swiftly took himself off to speak with Harthacnut. Leofric let him go with no words of caution, Hund butting his backside with almost every step, and he saw the grin on Harthacnut’s face as Ælfgar voiced his complaint of his family, and then the two of them huddled close together, plotting who knew what.

  Leofric was overjoyed to see his son in such a close friendship with the king’s younger son. He was trying to offer his son a good start in life, similar to the one his father had given to him, but Leofric thought the future was suddenly a lot more solid in appearance and far more predictable.

  England wasn’t under attack from Viking warriors, in fact the very opposite, and that meant, or so he hoped, that the king’s son would live to maturity and one day succeed him. That had been his father’s plan when he’d allowed his sons to grow friendly with Athelstan and Edmund.

  Leofric simply wished that the future his son would have would be that little bit more measured. He raised his drinking horn to his son and his king’s son, and then he swilled the deep maroon liquid down his throat and called for more.

  His sister groaned at him, but refreshed his drinking horn all the same.

  It was going to be a very long night of wine, mead and food.

  Leofric looked forward to it immensely.

  Chapter 23

  AD1028

  Winchester

  He woke, the groan of agony half out of his mouth before his eyes had even opened.

  His back ached from sprawling across the table, his arms ached where his head was nestled on them, and there was a puddle of drawl beneath his mouth and his mouth felt as though he’d swallowed horse dung.

  It had indeed, been a good, and long night, filled with too much drinking, too much laughing, a fair amount of crying and then, and he cringed to think it, maybe even some singing and dancing.

  He winced as he lifted his head, sat back on the hard wooden bench and groaned and held his head with both of his hands. He coughed and felt bile in his mouth and then turned abruptly as he heard a wry chuckle.

  “My lord,” he half croaked, embarrassed to be caught in such a compromising position by the king.

  “Good night?” Cnut asked, although he didn’t expect an answer, as he spoke with a wry smirk, handing him a drinking horn filled with clear and chill water. Leofric swigged the fluid gratefully, feeling his body start to heal as the water tackled the dehydration of too much drinking.

  He looked around at the table and chuckled himself when he found that Olaf and Orkning were in a similar position to the one he’d been in. Hund was curled on his feet but his son and sister were absent. No doubt she’d seen to her son for him, or, and he suspected this would be the truth, Ælfgar was off with Harthacnut.

  There were few others within the hall and Leofric decided it was probably a good time for Cnut to speak to him privately. It seemed that intention was on Cnut’s mind as well.

  “I would speak to you of what’s been happening while I’ve been away,” he said, all traces of humor gone from his voice. His good cheer from the day before had washed away in the harsh grey light of morning and Leofric steeled himself to finally have a frank conversation with the king about the problems Godwine had been causing.

  “I think you’ve perhaps been cautioned about speaking to me honestly, but I wonder if you also thought it best to keep certain things from me, but now, I ask you openly, why is my wife so close to Earl Godwine?”

  Unable to help himself, Leofric spluttered in surprise, his eyebrows rising high and his mouth dropping open.

  “Your wife, and what? What about Godwine? They hate each other.”

  “I think you’re mistaken there Leofric. I think my wife half in love with my earl and they’re so close that I’ve already come upon them whispering in secrecy.”

  “I, I don’t know what to say to you, my king. The queen has made no secret to me of her hatred of Godwine. She resents him for failing to follow your wishes and she hates his usurpation of your role at court. There’s no affection between the two of them. None at all.”

  Cnut watched him closely, as though trying to determine why he continued to lie, and so Leofric continued.

  “Godwine tried to claim your son’s affection, he hid at Sandwich instead of coming to Denmark, he sent me to Hedeby with Gunnhilda instead of himself. The queen hates him, passionately. But she’s tolerated him, as I have because of your absence.”

  Cnut was shaking his head slowly from side to side.

  “Are you sure they’ve not been fooling you, Leofric? The pair of them have presented a united front to me. Both of them have complained of you and your relationship with my son, with my first wife, and of your utter disregard for Godwine.”

  Leofric, his head so fuzzy with the excesses of the night before, could hardly process just what Cnut was asking him about. He’d thought he’d wished to speak to him about Godwine. Not about his own behavior.

  “I can’t. I don’t. Seriously? That’s what they said?” he was trying to find words to explain his confusion and was failing utterly.

  “My wife tells me that you didn’t pass on the message about Godwine’s instructions to join me in Denmark until it was far too late for him to get there and that you tarried with my son until he pledged his support to your family.”

  “Godwine tells me that you’ve been absent from court more often than you’ve been here, and that when you had news of the Battle of Holy River, you kept it to yourself but spread rumors that it was a terrible failure. You cursed me for the death of your friend and then you reached out to Lady Ælfgifu and started to move against Harthacnut because you were so desperate to be named as the Earl of Mercia.”

  Cnut held his hand up to stop him from interrupting.

  “The list is almost endless, petty and tiring,” he finished. “I don’t understand what’s happened?” he said, sounding as perplexed as Leofric felt. “But I’m left with no choice. The queen says she has men who will swear on holy relics of your dishonesty, and Godwine can barely speak without dissolving into a great rage. Whatever you’ve done, and I can’t reconcile it with the news I’ve been receiving about you from my informants, I’m left with a difficult choice. I must leave England once more to return to Denmark, and I must ensure that the kingdom stays peaceful until I can unravel all the threads of lies and alliances here and determine who works for their own advancement and not my own. I will have to do something to placate Emma and Godwine, and you must be the object of that.”

  Leofric was trying desperately to follow the conversation, to understand what it was that Cnut was both saying and implying, but he still couldn’t fathom why Emma and Godwine had both decided to speak against him. What had he done? Why would they turn on him? Why would the king even care if he’d been speaking with Ælfgifu? He’d instructed Leofric to do just that.

  No, with cold dread settling in his stomach he was
beginning to understand that he was being forced into a position not of his choosing, perhaps not by his king, but certainly by the queen and Earl Godwine. Why would they want him gone? Why would they decided that they had to disgrace him?

  “My lord?” Leofric gathered his senses enough to object but any humor on Cnut’s face had long since disappeared.

  “They said you’d deny it. I told them I would speak to you, determine for myself if what they said could even be half-true, but there are too many of their accusations that make sense to me. You planned on disgracing Godwine, when he’s done nothing but be a loyal follower for me. You hoped to create a rift between my beloved wife and myself and you played me for a fool with your innocent eyes and now your drunkenness denudes you of your ability to reason and lie, and I know that what they’ve said is true.”

  “In light of this, and as my wife demands it as well, you and your sister are banished from the queen’s court in my absence. Neither of you is to speak with her, or with Godwine, and I’ll send word to Ælfgifu as well that you’re not to be trusted.”

  Cnut’s voice was rising as he spoke, but Leofric was still unable to contemplate what he was hearing and seeing, what it was that Emma and Godwine had to gain by speaking out against him.

  His head pounded with each clatter of the king’s hand onto the wooden table before them, and as he watched the king’s neck, he saw it pulse with his heartbeat. The king’s face was beyond furious, beyond any hope of reason and still Leofric couldn’t think what to say.

  A swirl of fabric caught the corner of his eye and he could see Godwine enter the hall, a smirk of satisfaction on his face, and Leofric realized there and then that far more had been done to him than he’d appreciated. He’d come here to reclaim his family name, to assert his rights, but he was to be sent home in disgrace, his sister with him and it was all the work of Godwine, and for some reason, the queen was a party to his intrigue. He didn’t understand it, didn’t even want to understand it, and so instead he stood to face his king, and finally finding his voice he spoke so quietly that no-one could have overheard them, even Cnut having to strain to listen to him.