‘Perhaps a Hungarian won’t do, my lord. All the same, anyone would be better than a Dane. To keep the Danes out of England even I would carry an axe.’
‘Luckily the house of Canute is as extinct as the house of Cerdic. There’s no one in Denmark with a reasonable claim; unless indeed the King of the Danes maintains that his crown makes him also the King of the English. Someone might say that, just because Canute once united the two peoples.’
‘Then I don’t know what will happen when you are dead, my lord. Perhaps there will never be another King of all the English. The Earls may rule on their own, without a King.’
‘Oh no, Edgar, remember the vision of Bishop Britwold. God has already chosen my successor. But it is the duty of every Christian to further the Will of God. Therefore, if I think I know who ought to succeed me, it is my duty to help him to the throne.’
‘Who is he, if he isn’t a Hungarian or a Dane, and there is no Cerdinga in England? Have you other foreign kinsmen?’
‘Of course. I was born of a mother, though to hear the Earls discussing pedigrees you would think Kings came into the world without help from any woman. Poor Ralph is out of the running, though he is my sister’s son. He has shown himself cowardly in battle, and that bars him. But the Old Lady, my mother, had a brother who was Duke of the Normans. He is dead now, and so are his sons. He left a single grandson, who is now my nearest kinsman after poor Ralph. That is Duke William of the Normans, a fine ruler whom I propose to make my heir.’
‘He is no Cerdinga,’ I objected.
‘Neither is anyone else, outside Hungary; and that’s too far away to count. In the male line there are no more Cerdingas. If you count females you will find dozens of them, but in England no one reckons female descent. All the same, it’s worth mentioning that William’s children will be Cerdingas in the female line. He plans to marry Matilda of Flanders, who can trace her descent from King Alfred. They are only waiting to clear up some little difficulty with the Pope.’
‘That will help him in Wessex, my lord, if the common people should know about it. It’s not the sort of thing they would know unless they are told. But it won’t carry much weight with the great Earls.’
‘Archbishop Robert has shown me how to deal with them. It’s a new dodge of statecraft, already common in France and the Empire. I shall invite Duke William to visit me for Christmas, and while he is at court I shall ask the magnates to swear that they will support him as my successor.’
‘Is that worth doing? They will swear to please you, and then say afterwards that their oaths were worthless, as taken under duress.’
‘Duress? From fear of me? They may say they were frightened, but no one will believe them.’
I argued with the King, considering this to be my duty; if he sought my advice I must give it frankly. But he was in love with his new up-to-date scheme, and could not understand that fairly honourable men might swear falsely to avoid a direct collision with their lord. He would not recognise that even good men may have some evil in them, though he was quick to see the few good qualities of the wicked.
Duke William came to the Christmas crownwearing, a short dark warrior of twenty-three, quick in his movements and interested in everything. He made a good impression on the lesser thanes, for he rode gallantly in the hunt and was sober and courteous at table. The King told me that the Earls and Archbishop Robert had all sworn to make him the next King of the English. But this was done in private, and no record was kept; so that later men denied it. I am certain the King told the truth as he saw it; perhaps some of the magnates did not understand what they swore, or swore with reservations.
After a short stay Duke William and his followers went home to their own country, bearing rich presents.
The Old Lady died in March 1052, and was buried beside King Canute in the Old Minster at Winchester. The King arranged for Masses and put his servants into mourning, but he did not pretend to be stricken with grief. On the contrary, at this time he was blithe, and perhaps almost too pleased with himself. He put a new design on his coins, showing himself as a warrior glaring out from a helmet, in place of the old picture of a crowned King. With Godwin in Bruges, and his mother in the grave, he was completely his own master.
His only complaint was that the business of ruling the English took him from his hunting. It was known that Harold and Leofwin were gathering a fleet among the Vikings of Ireland; so the western coast must be guarded. A more serious threat appeared in the spring. News came that Godwin himself was recruiting among the pirates of Flanders; he might be planning a descent on the coasts of the South Saxons, the ancestral home of his house. The King gave orders that an English fleet should be collected and held in readiness at Sandwich, the usual base. But here my lord, still inexperienced as a ruler, made a grave but natural mistake. He put in command of this fleet the two Earls who had shown themselves most loyal to him, Ralph and Odda. But these were the Earls of Hereford and Somerset; their absence left the Welsh border undefended, and at once King Griffith of the North raided fiercely as far as Leominster.
While the levies of Mercia were busy with King Griffith the Dublin pirates sailed up the Bristol Channel and landed to ravage in Somerset. Harold himself led them, and at Porlock defeated the Somersaetas with great slaughter. Meanwhile our fleet, and the King’s housecarles, lay at Sandwich with no enemy in sight. Old men began to say that the days of Ethelred were come again, when if pirates landed in the west the King and the army of England were always in the east.
The royal household remained in London. At first the King had wished to sail out into the Channel with his ships, but he had been persuaded that this would be too great a gamble. In the open sea there is always a way round, and Godwin with his pirates might have appeared before London while the power of England was cruising off Kent. In London we were kept busy fitting out a reserve army, made up of those lesser thanes and free peasants who come to the muster, ill armed, only when there is a serious threat of invasion.
My lord was in a warlike mood. ‘If Godwin lands I shall meet him in the field,’ he declared as he sorted the spare swords in his treasury. ‘We must arm every man who is willing. I don’t trust the sailors, who are mostly Danes. On land we Englishmen will make an end of the Danish Godwinssons and their Flemish pirates.’
Presently it began to appear that the fleet was in the right place after all. News came that Harold had rounded Land’s End and was coasting up Channel, while his father prepared to cross from Flanders to join him. At Sandwich our ships lay between the two squadrons, and might with luck catch them separately.
We had no luck. At midsummer Godwin sailed from the Yser, and the Earls Ralph and Odda put out from Sandwich to meet him. Then a great storm blew up. In the murky weather our ships could not find the pirates, and when the wind abated both fleets had been so gravely damaged that they must seek harbour immediately. Ralph and Odda struggled round the Foreland into London River, while the pirates limped back to Flanders.
All this excitement was bad for the King. He had been sitting in London, organising his troops, while in the Channel two great fleets manoeuvred and every day might bring news of a decisive battle. His throne, perhaps his life, were at stake; but he had been persuaded to leave the management of the campaign to others. Now it seemed that his chosen lieutenants had failed disgracefully, and he could not make up his mind whether the fault lay in their incompetence or their disloyalty.
He was at dinner when we told him that his battered ships were dropping anchor in the Pool. At once he burst into loud complaint: ‘It’s absurd, fantastic! Midsummer, on the sheltered coast of the South Saxons, and these lubbers muddle themselves into such an unseaworthy condition that they must come to London for repairs! I suppose Ralph got his feet tangled in his spurs! But Odda is a West Saxon, an experienced sailor. At midsummer he ought to be able to dodge Beachy Head! Whoever heard of ships putting in for repairs after a cruise in the Channel in June! I must find other commanders to lead my navy.
’
‘That’s sound sense as far as it goes,’ said Earl Leofric coolly, ‘but where will you find them? Don’t appoint me, my lord. With King Griffith on the rampage I must hurry back to Mercia.’
Earl Siward grunted agreement. ‘I must keep an eye on the north. I haven’t time to go on Viking cruise, even if the King commands me. Get rid of Ralph by all means, but why not leave Odda in charge? That storm was really dangerous, you know. Godwin has scuttled back to Bruges, and his sailors are Frisian pirates.’
‘They must go, both of them,’ my lord said obstinately. ‘This afternoon I shall dismiss them, immediately after dinner.’
Archbishop Robert’s cupbearer had been bending over his lord to translate these passages of muttered, grumbling English. Now the Archbishop spoke quietly into the King’s ear, in swift French which the Earls could not understand: ‘Ralph and Odda are your loyal servants. Don’t you see that these other lords will not fight for you against Godwin?’
The King slumped back in his chair, silent.
All through July and August our army mustered in London. Harold and his Dublin Vikings continued eastward along the south coast, ravaging as they came; while the English fleet remained at anchor in the Pool. Ralph and Odda had been dismissed to their Earldoms in the west, but no other commander had been appointed. None would undertake the task. Our veteran sailors deserted, for they were Danes who would not fight against Godwin; the fishermen and upland thanes who were set in their place dared not face the open sea in long unstable warships. The King talked it over with the few deep-sea sailors he could trust, and decided to keep the ships in the sheltered waters of the Thames; there they could be employed to defend the Port of London, if Godwin ventured to come so far.
For Godwin was again on the move. He had collected more Frisian pirates, and his ships were ravaging the Isle of Wight. Whenever he wished he might link up with Harold, for there were no English warships south of the Thames.
In London we waited nervously. The King sat long in Council, and every day visited his army on the open plain west of the city. But as harvest drew near the men grew restless, until the daily desertions outnumbered the day’s recruits.
Undoubtedly the King was behaving like his father, sitting still with a great army while pirates ravaged his lands. Without a fleet what else could he do? If he marched south Godwin would sail round the Foreland to enter an undefended London. Of course the common people grumbled, and since they must have a scapegoat they fixed on the Norman clerks whom the King had promoted. Feeling grew so strong that Archbishop Robert thought it prudent to keep away from formal meetings of the Council; instead he would slip round in the evenings to confer with the King in his bedchamber.
I recall the last of these meetings, since for once the King did not bother to send me away. The campaign must soon reach its climax. Godwin and Harold and all the pirate fleet had sailed past the Foreland and were ravaging Sheppey. Within a week the decisive battle must be fought before London. The Archbishop came disguised in the cowl of a simple monk, while the King prepared for bed.
‘What’s the news?’ asked Robert as soon as he entered.
‘It might be worse,’ the King answered with a worried frown. ‘The men of Sheppey stood to defend their crops, though of course the pirates got the better of them. At least they didn’t welcome the invaders, like those treacherous South Saxons.’
‘Frankly, do you think your army will join Godwin?’
‘Join him, no. Perhaps they won’t fight against him. My mistake was to gather them in London, which is nowadays more Danish than English. Godwin governed it for many years, and the burgesses are disloyal. I should have mustered my men in Wessex, where the glories of the house of Cerdic are still remembered. Look how gallantly the western thanes fought against Harold at Porlock! In the west they will still die for their rightful King. Now it’s too late to move. If I march west while the foe are in the Thames it will look like a retreat, and all the waverers will desert the losing cause.’
‘What a people you have been called to govern! Tailed Englishmen, always ready to change sides! They deserve to be ruled by Godwin and his sons, and I can’t wish them a worse fate.’
‘Not all the Godwinssons are scoundrels,’ said the King, looking on the bright side. ‘Young Tostig is an honest man who does justice, and they say he lives faithfully with his Flemish wife.’
‘But think of Sweyn and Harold and Leofwin and Gyrth! How can a land prosper which has such magnates to rule it?’
‘Sweyn is no longer a Viking. He has gone to Jerusalem on pilgrimage, to seek forgiveness for his sins. I always thought there was good in that boy. About Harold and the others I agree with you.’
‘But what will you do, my lord, when these savages invade England?’
‘What can I do? I can’t run away. I am the King appointed by God to rule the English, and I may not abandon my duty. When the time comes I shall take up my axe and fight at the head of those willing to fight for me. At the best I shall be killed in battle; if I am captured I shall meet a worse fate, like my poor brother Alfred. He did his duty, hoping to free his people from oppression by Danish pirates. What he did was righteous – and it brought him death by torture.’
It was not my place to interrupt, but I could not leave the King in this agony of despair. ‘My lord,’ I cried, ‘Godwin and his pirates cannot overthrow you. The English will have you as their King until you die. The Earls refuse to fight against other Englishmen only because Hardrada and his Danes will come over and conquer us if the defenders of England kill one another.’
The King heard me patiently, and then explained in French to the Archbishop. ‘Edgar says that the English will never desert me. But they would rather accept Godwin than fight a great battle which would leave England a prey to Hardrada and his Danes.’
‘Perhaps Godwin’s followers will also refuse to fight?’ Robert suggested.
‘No, they are pirates, willing to fight anyone.’
‘Then Godwin does not care what happens to his country, so long as he himself remains rich?’
‘That is so, lord Archbishop,’ said the King sadly. ‘Godwin is a wicked man, and in this world the wicked flourish like a green bay tree. He will come back victorious, to enjoy his estates as before. I can do nothing against him. But if I remain King of the English there will be some flicker of good government in the land. Since my army will not fight I shall work with Godwin, and do what I can to restrain him.’
‘You will protect me, my lord, and the other Norman clerks who serve you?’
‘I shall protect you if I can. First of all I must keep my throne.’
On the next day, the 14th of September, the pirates rowed under London Bridge, hugging the south bank of the river to avoid our arrows. Godwin landed at Southwark, and fixed his headquarters in his own hall by the riverbank, whence he had fled a year ago. The levies of Kent and the South Saxons joined him as soon as he was ashore. Then the Frisian ships rowed across the river to attack the English fleet anchored off London. The peasants who manned the King’s ships were no match for veteran pirates, and to prevent a useless slaughter of loyal Englishmen the King signalled for a parley.
The Council met next morning. In the evening it was proclaimed that Earl Godwin had answered all the charges brought against him, clearing himself by his own oath and the oaths of his helpers; therefore he was to be inlawed and granted the full friendship of the King, and the lands and offices of all the Godwinssons were to be returned to them. Furthermore, since the King had been led to persecute this innocent man by the advice of evil counsellors, those evil counsellors, and especially the Norman Bishops, must immediately go into exile. Peace was now secure throughout the land, and every warrior should go at once to his own home.
Robert of Canterbury, Ulf of Dorchester, William of London, all Norman Bishops, fled in a small boat that very night. They feared that the King would be unable to protect them for the legal five days of grace granted them to gather
their goods.
In the evening the King told me to make a bundle of his weapons and mail and take it to Hugolin the treasurer. ‘That axe is a work of art,’ said he, ‘and so is the helmet. They are too good to throw away, but I shall never again need them. In future if there is fighting to be done Godwin will do it for me. I have done my duty, at Sandwich and here in London; but either we failed to find the pirates or when we had found them the army wouldn’t fight. Has there ever been such an unlucky King? But this is my fate, and I must make the best of it.’
When he was in bed he went on talking to himself.
‘I must fetch the Lady from her convent. Poor girl, I was hard on her, but what else could I do? You can’t have a Lady ruling at court while all her kin are outlaws. No, I can face Edith. The real trouble will be sitting with Godwin in Council. He must rule the country, since he is so strong that I can’t prevent him; but must I talk to him by the hour? I must, at least when I wear my crown to discuss affairs of state. Well, I shall cut the Christmas feasting as short as possible, and perhaps in these troubled days Godwin will be too busy to come to Gloucester.’
He was silent for so long that I thought he had gone to sleep. Suddenly he spoke again: ‘I shall do whatever Godwin advises. But I must make it clear to all my people that I am following his instructions. Then they won’t blame me for his evil deeds, and perhaps one day honest men will rise against him. Even when he seizes Bishoprics to reward his followers I shall not complain. I shall wait until ordinary laymen notice the contrast between Danish adventurers and godfearing educated Normans.’
Next day I understood this new grievance. Before the court left London Godwin intruded his follower Stigand into the Archbishopric of Canterbury. That was a scandalous appointment, which shocked even tough Anglo-Danes. There could be no pretence that the See was vacant; the Archbishop had been driven out only by threats of murder. Stigand was notoriously a hanger-on of the Danish faction, unfitted in character and education for such high office. He knew that it would be vain to seek a pallium from Rome, so he took possession of his minster wearing the pallium which Robert had left behind when he fled to save his life. Thus he was correctly dressed. But no one was deceived. Bishops-elect, even if they were of Godwin’s party, in future sought consecration from Cynesige of York or from some Archbishop oversea.
The Cunning of the Dove Page 12
