Then she turned to the King with a forced smile, as though making allowances for a fractious invalid. ‘I see your worry, my lord. You want my brother Harold to take this oath, and you fear that if you command him to do so he will refuse. Why is that? Do you suspect that he will try to make himself King when you are dead?’
‘Of course not, my dear,’ said the King quite briskly, coming out of his dream because at last he was really interested. ‘How could Harold make himself King? Nobody wants him to be King. He is the leader of the Anglo-Danes, I grant you. But the King they want is the other Harold, Hardrada of the Norwegians. The true English would never accept your brother, precisely because he is the leader of the Anglo-Danes. No, Harold can’t be King. But he may rout out some insignificant atheling of the true Cerdinga line from a foreign land, as he routed out my unfortunate nephew Edward. He wants a King who doesn’t matter, a King ignorant of the country, so that he may continue as the greatest Earl in England. He won’t want to set up my cousin William, because William will be a strong King and there will be no room for a chief minister under him. That’s why Harold must swear allegiance to William while I still live. And I can’t think how I am to force him to swear against his will.’
‘If that’s your only trouble it is easily solved,’ the Lady answered at once. ‘You have forgotten my other brother, Tostig. You are always forgetting him, and I wish you wouldn’t. He will be in London next week, not on any official business but just to pay a visit to his sister. He has the Northumbrians behind him, and behind Northumbria all the levies of his bloodbrother the King of the Scots. If he threatens Harold he will have the support of young Edwin of the Mercians, for what that’s worth; and very likely my other brothers will stand neutral. If you take the opportunity while Tostig is at court you can compel Harold to obey you, or threaten him with exile.’
‘Thank you, my dear. I never thought of that. It only shows that being a King is quite easy after all. Just do what you think is right, even against the will of a powerful subject; and when you need help it will be forthcoming.’ The King settled himself into bed with a placid yawn.
A few days later the King rode hawking in the Essex marshes with the Earls Harold and Tostig. A falconer told me that the three lords rode together, apart from their followers, and seemed more intent on private discussion than on sport. The King came home cheerful.
But a great Kingdom cannot be governed by secret agreements. Such agreements will not be kept unless all men are aware of them. Between Easter and Pentecost the King spoke with Earl Harold publicly in his great hall, in the hearing of all the housecarles and courtiers. In set terms he ordered Harold to proceed to Duke William in Normandy and there swear in public to be his man and help him to the throne of England. The King sat on his throne as he gave these commands, and Earl Harold stood before him with uncovered head. I do not know why these orders were given so publicly, with Harold standing meekly to receive them. The King would not publicly humiliate an Earl, merely to show that he was his master. It seems to me likely that Harold himself suggested this formal procedure; wishing to prove to all England, and indeed to all Normandy, that he went to Duke William unwilling, against his better judgement.
But he went, which was the great thing; and we all breathed more easily after he was gone. In spite of the Lady’s brave words it is not at all certain that he could have been compelled to go. Earl Tostig would have supported the King against his brother; Tostig was loyal, and also jealous of Harold. But perhaps the Northumbrians would not have followed their Earl in what might seem a mere private quarrel between two of the unruly Godwinssons.
Earl Harold set out from Bosham, taking with him his youngest brother, little Wulfnoth, who was not yet of an age to bear arms. That proved that he went in good faith, for the youth must be intended to remain as a hostage at William’s court, a guarantee of Harold’s loyalty. They carried also a sealed letter from the King, in which I believe he advised Duke William to offer the war-leader of the English a high post under the new government. The King was very proud of that letter, which he had drafted himself with the help of Bishop William; but though he talked of it often I never learned its exact contents.
Then we heard that Earl Harold had been lost at sea with all his company. For a few days the whole court was absorbed in delicious speculations; busy careerists threw over their friends and made friends with their enemies to secure a share in the great Earldom of Wessex.
Before we had got very far with this, a pastime which delights me all the more because I can watch it from the outside at no risk to my own neck, we heard that Wessex still had a thriving Earl. Harold’s ship had not been sunk. Instead a storm had driven it off course, and he had come ashore in some land which bordered Normandy. The ruler of those parts threw him into prison, hoping to extort a fat ransom; but Duke William heard of it, and rode to rescue his guest. All the rulers of northern France feared Duke William, and Harold was soon safely lodged in Rouen.
Before Michaelmas he was back in England, though little Wulfnoth had been left behind; which suggested that all had gone according to plan. But Harold was very angry, and so were his companions.
As soon as he arrived at court he delivered a formal speech in hall, saying that he had done all that had been commanded and that Duke William held his oath. But that evening he came to the King’s bedchamber and demanded a private interview.
The King sat on the edge of his bed; he was impatient to begin his evening prayers, as I knew but Harold did not. Of course the great Earl took his time, thinking that no one would be anxious to end such an important conference; which put the King in a bad temper. All the same, Harold quickly came to the point.
‘My lord, your cousin Duke William is a cheat and a scoundrel,’ he said fiercely.
‘They speak of him as an honest man. You have been in his power, and here you are safe,’ the King answered with a frown.
‘Yes, safe. But I am his sworn vassal, and my brother is his hostage.’
‘Isn’t that exactly what we arranged before you left England? You went to swear allegiance, and you took Wulfnoth to leave him as a hostage.’
‘He made me swear more than I had intended, and he stole my oath by trickery. Oh, to begin with he got me out of a tight place. He took me to his court and gave me splendid presents. But I’m not at all sure it wasn’t a put-up job from the beginning. The little French Count who imprisoned me is one of William’s vassals, and may have acted on William’s orders. I was rescued just to make me grateful.’
‘Did William raise the storm that drove your ship off its course?’ asked the King with sarcasm.
‘Very likely he did. He’s probably a wizard as well as a cheat. But I must tell you the whole story. First I was imprisoned, as you know. That’s a vile law they have in France, that all shipwrecks are the booty of the lord of the shore. It proves that the French are not fit to govern themselves. A Frenchman should not aspire to govern the English.’
‘In England it isn’t the law, but you know as well as I do that it happens. If one of your ships were wrecked anywhere in England, how much of the cargo would you see again?’
‘My lord, let me tell this story in my own way. In England we have plenty of thieves, but they can’t quote the law to justify themselves … Well, after Duke William had rescued me from prison he treated me with all honour. He gave me one of those long mailshirts they wear in France, and showed me how to fight on horseback. It’s not so difficult as it looks, when the horse knows his job; how they train the horses in the first place beats me. On the Duke’s horse I managed quite well, but I shall never try it on an ordinary English hunter. When I could wield my lance in the saddle without falling off the Duke said I must see a little of the genuine thing. So he took me with him on a campaign against his neighbours in Brittany. Certainly those Bretons are afraid of him. We had no real fighting. When they met us in the open they ran away, and when we reached any of those famous French castles the defenders at once opened the
ir gates. All the same, those castles are useful things, my lord; you were quite right there. With your permission I shall build one in my town of Dover, on that hill where the old Roman fort stands … So in this war we had no fighting. The only time we lost a few men was when the tide caught us fording a river. Even then I was able to rescue some of them, while the Frenchmen panicked and waved their arms in the air. They don’t understand the sea like Danes and Englishmen. The Duke was pleased that I had rescued his followers, and he gave me armour and weapons to take home, beside the outfit he had lent me for this campaign.’
‘That was more than a present,’ said the King, interrupting. ‘According to French ideas when he gave you weapons like that on campaign he adopted you as his chosen war-companion. I hope you thanked him properly.’
‘Oh, they made quite a ceremony of it. I saw it was important, and I don’t think anyone could have complained of my manners. When we got back from Brittany we were all very good friends. Then the Duke held a great feast and suggested that with all his followers looking on now was a good time for me to swear my oath of friendship. Well, as I say, we were friends, and anyway you had commanded me to take this oath. So I agreed to swear, and he asked me to lay my hand on a little table as I swore. I thought it was just another queer French custom, so I did as he suggested. Then after I had sworn they whipped the cloth off the table, and underneath was a whole nest of relics. One of them was a great round ball of crystal that they call the Bull’s Eye. It’s got a piece of the True Cross inside it, or something equally grand. That’s what I mean by trickery. An ordinary polite promise of friendship, which I couldn’t refuse unless I was willing to insult my host under his own roof; and he turns it into an oath that will bind my soul to the Day of Judgement and after.’
‘But you were willing to promise without relics,’ the King objected. ‘You are no worse off, unless indeed you had made up your mind that you would break the promise, even before you gave it.’
‘Well, my lord,’ said Harold sulkily, ‘a promise is a promise, of course. No honest man makes a promise intending to break it. But no one can foretell the future. We are trying to plan a peaceful succession to the throne of the English after you are dead. When will that be? A long time hence, I hope; but we don’t know. We can’t even be sure that I shall outlive you. Circumstances may change so that the promise is obviously incapable of fulfilment. But this oath which I took unawares! It binds me to make Duke William King of the English, even though I may then be the only living Englishman willing to submit to his rule.’
‘And if you are you can still make him King. You are the war-leader of the English, and the greatest man in the land. That is chiefly due to your own prowess, I grant you.’ The King spoke firmly. ‘But you cannot keep your power unless you are willing to work with me. I have commanded you to serve Duke William after I am gone. You have promised obedience. All will work out in the end, and perhaps the English will have peace when the rest of Christendom is afflicted by the calamity foretold by the Seven Sleepers.’
‘When Duke William reigns I shall not be warleader. He is a warrior, and younger than I.’
‘That is true, and of course it bothers you. But that’s only because you cannot imagine yourself an old man. Hardly anyone really believes that one day he will be too old to enjoy battle. All the same, a time will come when you will be glad to lay aside your arms. Surely when you gave your oath the Duke made promises in return? I wrote to him, asking him to recognise the great position you have earned by your gallant service against the Welsh.’
‘Oh yes, my lord, the Duke made splendid promises, I am to be his representative and agent among the English while you reign. He will send experts to build my castle at Dover, and I shall hold it for life as his vassal. When he is King I shall still be the greatest Earl in the land, and I shall rule as his deputy whenever he visits Normandy. All that was definitely agreed. To make our friendship more secure he suggested that I should marry his sister. I didn’t actually refuse the offer, though we did not fix a date for the wedding. If I decide to go through with it I can easily get an annulment of my existing marriage. I can persuade the court of Rome that Edith Alfgarsdaughter never gave her free consent.’
‘You will have no difficulty there. It is not a business I care to discuss. If you repudiate that unfortunate young woman you must of course give her a sufficient maintenance.’
‘I am rich enough to be generous, my lord.’
‘Then there is nothing more to be said. You complain that Duke William tricked you with his hidden relics; but unless you were planning to trick him no harm was done. He has offered you the high position you hold under me; and the hand of his sister, which is more than I have given you. Everything has worked out as I had planned it. Now go away and serve me loyally, and under the next King of the English you will prosper.’
‘Under the next King of the English I shall prosper indeed,’ answered Harold with a ring of menace in his voice. ‘I thought you would agree that Duke William has tricked me. But if what he did was in accordance with your will I waste my time, and yours, in complaining. Duke William is your chosen heir, I am his chosen minister. Perhaps, when the time comes, all will go peacefully.’
He took his leave with a courteous smile. It had been an odd, inconclusive interview, and I could not see what Harold had hoped to gain by it. But Harold, like his father, always tried the easy way first. He tried to persuade, and when he failed he would agree with his adversary, in words. But his agreement never proceeded genuinely from the heart; he would say anything for the sake of gaining a few more days of peace.
During that autumn the King was happy and tranquil. All the world knew that Harold was committed to Duke William and, what was more important, Tostig was a genuine supporter of the King’s chosen heir. My lord was failing, and knew that soon he must leave this world. But he was secure in his hope of Heaven, and if he lived also to see the consecration of Westminster he would die happy, knowing that he had provided for the good government of his people after he was gone.
10. The Fall of Earl Tostig
In 1064 the court kept Christmas at Gloucester, as usual. All the Bishops and Earls came to the Council, and there was the usual crowd of thanes and burgesses with petitions and complaints. In fact there was rather more than the usual crowd; half the noble houses of Northumbria sent deputations to complain against Tostig.
It is impossible for a West Saxon to find out the rights of a Northumbrian quarrel. The north is the home of the bloodfeud, and some of these private wars have been handed down from father to son for more than two centuries. The Northumbrians, like the other dwellers in the Danelaw, may be divided into English and Anglo-Danes. But in addition the English among them are divided into Bernicians and Deirans, the followers of two ancient royal houses now extinct; what makes it worse is that a great many hereditary adherents of the house of Deira live in Bernicia, and the other way round, so that you cannot even guess a man’s political prejudice from the name of his home. In those days some Englishmen revered the memory of Earl Siward the Dane, and some Danes hated his kindred. When a Northumbrian lays an accusation, and backs it with a solemn oath, you can be pretty sure it is a move in some ancestral feud. But you cannot divide the complainants neatly into factions, Danes, Bernicians, Deirans and so on; all you know is that everyone is lying.
So the Council did not pay very much attention to the numerous accusations against Earl Tostig. Even what sounded like very grave charges evaporated under investigation. Men took oath that Tostig had summoned two thanes to his court at York, and there murdered them. Then it appeared that these young men had indeed been murdered while they were in attendance on the Earl; there could be no doubt of the fact, for one morning their headless bodies had been discovered on the dungheap behind his hall. But there was no evidence that Earl Tostig had procured their murder; such men would have plenty of enemies who would kill them by treachery at the first opportunity. In short, the killings had been a very g
rave breach of the special peace which dwells in the hall of every ruler; but that is the kind of behaviour you expect from Northumbrians.
A young thane named Cospatric was especially ardent in his accusations against Tostig; his oath would weigh heavily, for he was heir to the ancient royal house of Bernicia. But he never made his formal charge. On the fourth day after Christmas, the day appointed for him to take oath, his headless corpse was found lying on the King’s own dungheap.
There was a frightful to-do. Such an insult to the special peace of the King’s hall had not been known since the bad old days of the heathen King Sweyn. All the chiefs of the household inquired into the mystery, and I myself examined the lesser chamberlains.
It was not difficult to exonerate them, for chamberlains do not carry axes; if one of my men wanted to murder an enemy, and some of them were capable of it, he would poison him, or stick a knife into his ribs. Cospatric had been killed by one blow, struck from behind. Only a housecarle could have cut off his head.
With so many visitors at court we had many strange housecarles staying with us; and there is a fellow-feeling among housecarles which makes them reluctant to incriminate even a stranger who follows the same calling. During the formal Council of Christmas sentries were posted all over the place; among them they ought to have seen everything, but they swore they had seen nothing. After a long day of inquiry evening found us all depressed and miserable.
At bedtime the Lady burst into the King’s chamber unannounced. She was too agitated to notice me, and the King could never remember whether I was there or not unless I was actually touching him; so nobody ordered me to withdraw, and I heard everything.
‘I know who killed Cospatric,’ the Lady began, ‘but I shall not tell you his name. He thought he was doing his duty, by the rules of those savage northern blood-feuds. He has gone into exile, and he will never again trouble the court.’
The Cunning of the Dove Page 21
