1066

by G. K. Holloway

  Godwin, Earl of Wessex, his hair grizzled at the temples, had dark blue bloodshot eyes under heavy eyebrows, strong features, a ruddy colour, thick lips and a square chin. He was broad shouldered and thick set. Sweyn, at twenty-five years old, was Godwin’s eldest and favourite son and he sat on his right. He was bigger built than his father though his features were less angular and his muscles not so well defined. His hair was darker, his eyes green and deep set with an unnatural glint to them. He had a smooth complexion and the blubbery lips of his ever-open mouth always seemed wet. Edmund, like most people, always felt uncomfortable near Sweyn.

  To Godwin’s left sat his third son and Edith’s twin, Tostig. Sweyn and Tostig were aged three years apart and were not at all close. Tostig was not quite as tall or as strong as Sweyn. He had long blond hair tied back with an amulet so the body of it fell down his back. Beside him sat another brother, Gyrth, and asleep across the table was the youngest of the boys at the table, Leofwine. All of them had the dragon of Wessex tattooed on their right forearm.

  Neither of Godwin’s two other sons was present. Wulfnoth, only nine years old, was still asleep in the bowers with the women and other children. Harold, the second oldest son, had disappeared the previous evening with his cousin Beorn, looking for excitement.

  ‘Here, have some breakfast, Edmund,’ offered Godwin, leaning closer and pushing forward some bread, cheese and a mug of beer towards the still sleepy monk.

  Edmund sat down, produced his knife and helped himself to breakfast.

  ‘Are you looking forward to the great occasion?’ enquired Godwin.

  ‘Yes, I am. This is a great day for England. The King will soon have a queen... ’

  ‘That’ll be three of them, then,’ interrupted Sweyn.

  Everyone tried his best to overlook the remark.

  ‘Three of them,’ Sweyn repeated, ‘our Edith, Emma the King’s mother and Edward, that’s three,’ said Sweyn, appearing proud of his mathematical ability.

  ‘We’ll also have three new loyal earls, won’t we, boys?’ said Godwin.

  In return for supporting Edward’s claim to the throne, Godwin had required earldoms to be found for Harold, Sweyn, and their cousin Beorn. The seeds Godwin had planted four years previously were about to bear fruit. After spending the previous twenty-five years in exile, Edward needed the family behind him. Now into the fourth year of his reign, he still had no powerful friends in England. In fact the country and its people were still something of a mystery to him and he still struggled with the language.

  The talk continued as they ate their breakfast and the women and children joined them. Godwin’s youngest son entered first, followed by two of his three daughters and his Danish wife, Lady Gytha. She was a tall, elegant woman in her early forties. Her physique belied her nine pregnancies. Her long blonde hair, striking blue eyes, high cheekbones, full-lipped mouth and noble demeanour had no match at court, and she easily outshone Lady Godiva, whose austere good looks made her cold and unapproachable. Lady Gytha sat down to breakfast with the children and their nurse.

  ‘Good morning, Godwin,’ she said, giving her husband a light kiss on the cheek.

  ‘Good morning, my dear,’ he replied, squeezing her hand gently in return, ‘did you sleep well?’

  ‘Yes, thank you,’ she replied, looking around the table. ‘Isn’t Harold here?’

  ‘No. He’s gone somewhere with his cousin Beorn,’ Godwin replied.

  ‘You need to have a word with him, my dear.’

  ‘I have. Do you think he listens to anything I say?’

  ‘Yes, but this is the King’s wedding.’

  In his room King Edward was preparing for the day ahead. He picked up a silver hand mirror and gazed with admiration at his reflection. In his early forties, he was tall, and apart from a few Normans and clerics, the only clean-shaven man at the English court. He made an imposing regal figure, resplendent in his fine blue woollen mantle, which he wore over a linen tunic drawn in at the waist. The softest of woollen cross-gaiter leggings covered his spindly legs; his feet were comfortable in red doe hide shoes. His cloak and tunic were edged with broad bands of intricate design, gold threads woven among the silks of vivid reds and blues, the garments pinned together with splendid jewel-encrusted brooches. Finally, perched on his head was a slightly oversized gold crown studded with precious stones.

  His servants were helping him with a few finishing touches. Not so long ago he had been simply Edward, son of the late King Ethelred, living in exile, reliant on the good will of others. Now, he was in his rightful place, continuing the glorious Cerdic line of Saxon kings into its sixth century.

  After once more checking his appearance he continued his train of thought. He had expected to die an old man in Normandy, forgotten just like Alfred, his greatly missed brother, murdered by a man who worked in the shadows.

  After King Knut died, Edward and his brother Alfred had received a letter from their mother, Queen Emma, inviting them to return to England. She told them they could easily seize the throne and support would rush to their aid. Their mother, in the hope of gaining more personal power, had deluded herself and misled them. Support for the sons of Ethelred was nonexistent - Edward discovered this on a visit to Winchester and fled the country immediately. Alfred was less fortunate. On King Harold Harefoot’s orders, he was apprehended by Earl Godwin and handed over to the King’s custody. Harold Harefoot had Alfred stripped naked and bound, mounted on a donkey then led to the abbey at Ely. Once there the young prince’s eyes were burned out. Harefoot did such a bad job that Alfred died of his injuries.

  Edward held his mother responsible for the letter enticing them back. Emma always claimed it to have been a forgery of Harefoot’s. Edward was never sure whether to believe her or not but whoever had sent the letter, he still held Godwin ultimately responsible for Alfred’s death. One day he would take revenge.

  Calming himself, he let his thoughts drift back to his forthcoming marriage. He had never been married, and in fact had always remained aloof from women, but Edith, in spite of being Godwin’s daughter was, it galled him to admit, the finest eligible lady in all the land. She was refined, cultured and educated to the highest degree. She could speak more languages than he and she knew more about fashion, art and literature. She was even a competent musician but, he reassured himself, she did not possess the innate wisdom and divine insight always present in one appointed king by the Almighty.

  Suddenly the door burst open and his thoughts were interrupted. Looking away from the mirror Edward saw his mother bustling toward him.

  ‘Not ready yet, Edward?’ she asked.

  ‘Almost, mother,’ he answered meekly.

  Emma, the dowager queen, brushed the servants aside and started making adjustments to his dress.

  ‘Are you well?’ she asked.

  ‘I feel quite calm.’

  ‘Good. It will be a long day,’ she said quite seriously.

  ‘And how do you feel today, mother?’

  ‘I feel well, very well.’

  ‘I was thinking, today will bring a big change for you too, mother.’ He looked at her. She was tall, thin and possessed of an austerity made all the harsher by a frame of dyed black hair. Her pale skin, now creased like cracked lime, covered a face where a smile had to work hard to break free.

  ‘When she is queen, Edith will fill the position now occupied by you,’ Edward continued. ‘What will you do then, mother?’

  ‘That is for you to decide,’ she answered flatly.

  ‘Not entirely, one has to consider custom. I am told that in England, it is befitting for a widow to tend her husband’s grave. Tell me mother, whose grave will you tend? I was forgetting for a minute that you have a choice.’

  ‘Ethelred was a good man but Knut was great.’

  ‘So you favoured his son over me?’

  Emma brushed his shoulders and turned to go, but stopped. ‘Edward, I wish you luck in your marriage and I wish you success as king.
So far you have done quite well, but you’ll find trials and tribulations ahead. You will have to make decisions you do not wish to make but nevertheless, you will have to live with the outcome. You will discover that it is not easy to be a king and neither is it easy to be a queen. Events have a tendency to unravel, not as you have planned, but as God intended. After the wedding I shall stay here in Winchester. Now you need to go to the church, for we can’t have a wedding without a groom.’ Having said this she turned and left.

  Lady Gytha stood back from her daughter, looked her up and down thoughtfully, smiled proudly and announced, ‘You look wonderful, Edith. No bride could look lovelier.’

  ‘Fit for a king?’

  ‘No one can rival you. Don’t concern yourself with Emma, my dear; Edward is as keen as you are to put an end to her interfering.’

  ‘He seems unable to control her.’

  ‘Your father and the other earls will change that.’

  Edith made some last minute adjustments to her appearance and when satisfied that she looked presentable, the two ladies left the room, followed by the bridesmaids. A minute later the ladies walked with decorum into the great hall where Godwin was waiting with the rest of the family and guests.

  Godwin smiled proudly at his daughter and nodded to himself. Embracing Edith, he lifted her veil and kissed her on the cheek. He exchanged looks with his wife and saw in an instant she was as proud and pleased as he. Looking round, he called out to the gathering, ‘Is everyone ready?’

  ‘Yes!’ came the hearty reply.

  ‘Then leave now, and I’ll follow, with Edith.’

  Gradually the guests made their way through the doorway. Soon enough, with the exception of a few servants hurrying to prepare the hall for the afternoon, Godwin and his daughter were alone.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ he enquired. He could feel the tremor of her hand in his. ‘In an hour or so you will be the Queen of England.’

  Edith smiled to keep herself from crying. She looked up adoringly at her father. ‘I suddenly feel quite afraid.’

  ‘Edith, you’ve been rehearsing this for weeks. Everyone knows his part by heart. Everything will go so smoothly that it will be over before you know it.’

  ‘Well, where is that man?’

  ‘The monk, Herman? He’ll be here in a little while. Look, here are the rest of the maids.’

  With that, five bridesmaids entered the hall and took their positions with the bride. Edith gave a sigh of relief, for it seemed everything was going according to plan. The next step was to make their way over to St. Peter’s and the altar.

  ‘Where in God’s name is that monk?’

  Outside, people thronged the streets and hung out of every window; some sat on rooftops, others had climbed trees to get a better view. Earls, thanes and their ladies, all in their finest clothes, made the onlookers gasp in awe and squeal with delight, as they made their way to the wedding.

  The front of the procession was entering the church when two handsome young men appeared from nowhere, out of breath, and with casual expertise slipped in through the crowd and took their places amongst the family. Apart from the amount of mud spattered on their boots and cloaks, a casual observer would never have guessed that only an hour ago they had been miles away, in the beds of an inn keeper’s daughters. They were Harold Godwinson and his cousin Beorn Sweinson. They were just getting their breath back and feeling quite pleased at getting away with their late arrival when they heard a voice from behind them.

  ‘I am glad you could spare the time to join us.’

  ‘Ah, mother. You would not believe the trouble we had getting here!’ said the older of the two, an easy smile spreading across his handsome face.

  ‘You are right, Harold, I would not. You can discuss it with your father later,’ Lady Gytha replied sternly.

  ‘I’ll look forward to it, Mother. You look wonderful, by the way.’

  In the king’s hall, Herman the monk had finally arrived to lead Edith, her father and two sisters to the church. With the monk leading the way, the little group made its way through the cheering crowd, leaving behind them a small army of attendants preparing the tables. In the hall youths laden with armfuls of tablecloths shuffled along under the weight of their burdens from one table to another. Others took the cloths and laid them expertly on the tables in well-practised fashion. First the frontals, which covered the table and hung down to the floor at the side away from the diners, were laid. Next, a long cloth large enough to cover the table and reach down to the floor at either end was placed over the first cloth; finally, a cloth large enough to cover the top of the table and hang down just a little on all four sides. When the tables were ready, draw-cloths were placed where the diners would sit, and bread, goblets and bowls would stand. They had until the wedding ceremony was finished to complete their tasks. Woe betide anyone who had not finished his job.

  On the way to the Old Minster, the sound of organ music greeted them. This was a great relief to the monk Herman, who at the last minute had had to find beer for the seventy bellows men before they would set to work. Now, by the sound of it, the beer had arrived, the bellows were being pumped and the organ was working. Even so, as he entered the interior he had to have one swift glance just to make sure he was not hearing things. There, sure enough, he could see two monks completely absorbed in the operation of the largest organ in Europe. From its four hundred pipes breathed music as heavenly as a thousand flutes as the two clerics, with great agility, moved this way and that to push or pull the sliders to change the notes. Why they never bumped into one another he would never know.

  There was a stir as the group entered. Godwin’s family stood at the front of the church on the right, with the sheriffs and thanes from all the counties of Wessex behind them. On the left was Edward’s family; his mother Queen Emma, his sister Countess Godgifu with her second husband, Count Eustace de Boulogne, their two sons and their wives. Behind Edward’s family stood the earls and ladies of the land, and the remaining spaces were filled by the most powerful thanes in the kingdom.

  At the altar, looking pale, stood the ailing Archbishop Eadsige of Canterbury and the number of anxious glances in his direction confirmed there were many who thought he would be lucky to survive the day.

  The King, with Earl Leofric, whose eyebrows always gave him the look of an owl, was waiting patiently at the front of the church as his bride entered with Earl Godwin. As the choir sang, father and daughter, followed by the maids, walked down the aisle to Edward. When they arrived, Archbishop Eadsige welcomed the guests at length and after what seemed an eternity, began the ceremony.

  By this point in the proceedings some of the younger members of the congregation found their attention wandering, and the Godwinsons were no exception. Harold’s eyes fell on a young woman whose beauty took his breath away. She stood behind and across from him. He had to crane his neck to see her properly. He nudged Tostig, ‘Who is the girl with the long chestnut hair, dressed in blue with the old couple?’ he whispered.

  ‘I’ve seen her before somewhere,’ Tostig replied, turning around for another glimpse.

  ‘I declare you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.’ said Archbishop Eadsige with an indulgent smile.

  To cheers from the congregation, King Edward gave his beautiful new bride a quick peck on the lips. The applause focused the brothers’ attention back to their sister and the King.

  Now they were married, Edith was taken to kneel before the altar where Eadsige anointed and crowned her, placing the crown on her head with shaking hands. Edith rose, turned and made her way over to Edward, who gave her a beatific smile. Now they had come to a part of the proceedings especially for the benefit of the crowd. Arm in arm the royal couple climbed the stairs out on to the balcony on the second floor of the six-storey tower. In the bright sunshine Edward showed his wife and queen to the massed crowd. The instant they appeared an enormous roar went up from the spectators who were dazzled by the glistening of gold and jewel
s in the sunlight. Edward had never felt so popular. Edith’s heart soared as he raised her hand high in the air and the crowd responded in adulation. The royal couple waved to the crowd and the crowd cheered and waved back. The city had not witnessed such jubilation for a long time. Here in the heart of winter the King now had a queen and surely by autumn, fruit would be produced.

  Proceeding to the great hall for the wedding feast, the guests entered the lobby and first washed their hands in a bowl of water before drying them on the one of the towels provided. The company then made their way into the hall where they were shown to their allocated places to wait for the royal couple. After keeping the court waiting for a few minutes the King, with his new queen, entered from a concealed door behind the dais and they took their places. On Edward’s signal the guests took their seats. The clergy, the earls and ladies looked honoured to be sitting at the top table, as did his foreign guests.

  Archbishop Eadsige had been taken ill and Edward noted with satisfaction that Robert de Jumieges, Bishop of London, had taken his place.

  The King had decided shortly after arriving in England that he wanted this reforming priest to remodel the English church on that of the continent. Robert’s crusade against what he considered the scandalous state of English ecclesiastical affairs had won him only one friend in the kingdom — Edward. Robert’s sole virtue was patience and this had rewarded him with the position of the King’s favourite.

  Bishop Robert, for his part, was shocked by the elegance and long fair hair of the men, which he mistook as a sign of decadence and depravity.

  In accordance with protocol, the Queen raised a huge drinking horn in her hand before offering it to Edward. The King rose to his feet, thanked his guests and drank deeply from the horn before returning it to Queen Edith.

  Edward indicated that Bishop Robert should stand in Archbishop Eadsige’s place to break bread. The bishop was thrilled. Of all the nobles and clergy in the hall, the honour had fallen to him. He would make the most of the opportunity.