The following day the guests were dismayed to find Harold was not with them. He had still not stirred from his bed when the guests began to leave. The task of bidding farewell was left to Wynfrith, Harold’s steward. Edyth was concerned when she heard of Harold’s illness. His steward explained Harold’s symptoms and Edyth immediately decided to stay. Magnus and Wulfgith would return to West Wickham and Finn would stay at Waltham with Edyth as the eyes and ears of Magnus. Against Wynfrith’s protestations, Edyth made her way to Harold’s room.
‘Earl Harold is not well, my lady, and I’m afraid it must be serious if he can’t leave his bed.’
‘I’ll see him.’
‘He wants no visitors, my lady.’
‘But I must see him. Where is he?
Wynfrith led her to Harold’s room where the earl lay in a hot fever, delirious, complaining of cold and dreadful pain from an ulcer on the back of his hand. He was also suffering cramps and vomiting. She placed her hand on his forehead and felt him burning. Taking his hand, she was alarmed to see it red, swollen and badly ulcerated.
‘How long has he been like this?’
‘It must have come on in the night, my lady. One of his falcons pecked his hand a couple of days ago, just where the ulcer is’
‘Are you giving him anything for it?’
‘No, my lady. I’ve just given him something for the fever.’
‘I’ll make him something to help. Where do you keep your herbs, Wynfrith?’
In the kitchen Edyth began mixing herbs with a mortar and pestle. Her aunt had taught her the healing arts and she had a remedy for everything. Edyth used a knife to beat an egg, the better to cut through the pain. She mixed the egg with mugwort, plantain, chamomile, nettle, crab-apple, chervil, fennel, betony and finally some ash, all the while muttering a charm to herself as she did so. Edyth finally had the salve prepared, which she insisted on carrying up to Harold’s room herself. She persuaded him to let her apply it to the ulcer on his hand while she whispered her charm.
Edyth stayed with him awhile, talking to him when he seemed in need of reassurance, calming him when he was confused and nursing him like a mother would her child. But the fever grew worse. After two days, in desperation she called for Leofgar, in the hope that he might be able to help. He arrived promptly.
‘You look exhausted, my lady,’ he said. ‘You need rest too. I’ll send for some of the brothers who will take him to the abbey, where we can care for him night and day.’
‘No. No. I can take care of him. I thought you might know of some remedy for his ills.’
‘Edyth, if we don’t take care of him in the abbey, I’m afraid you too might become ill. May I suggest Earl Harold stays with us, where we will take care of him? You may visit whenever you choose.’
She acquiesced; surprised that someone who looked so fearsome could be so gentle.
Within an hour the earl was in the abbey. A monk sat with him at all times but his condition continued to deteriorate, despite the prayers that were offered for him without respite. The next morning Edyth went to see him and was alarmed to find that he had swellings on the elbows and under each armpit, though the ulcer on his hand was no worse. Harold’s fever was extremely high and yet he shook with chills. She could not bear to leave him, though the monks insisted she spent each night at his hall. The days passed; she and the monks fed the sick earl with brews, broths and all manner of herbal concoctions but his condition was gradually deteriorating.
As May turned to June, the lumps on Harold’s elbows and armpits grew bigger, burst and then drained. All this time he lived in a fever.
After three weeks Harold was still suffering. The egg-sized swellings that had plagued him so much were gone, only to be replaced by pains in the chest each time he breathed. He was also coughing up blood. His illness seemed to stretch on for an eternity, until he could barely remember ever having felt well. Then after another three weeks, Harold’s fever faded, the chills disappeared, the coughing stopped and he regained, if only slightly, his colour. He survived, but only just. Recovering but completely debilitated, he had to rest to regain his strength.
Eventually Harold was well enough to venture outside to walk a few steps in the warm summer air. When he and Edyth had time on their hands, they would sit and talk for hours, taking shade from the harsh summer sun beneath a walnut tree that stood in the abbey grounds.
She told him of her life, her childhood spent on the coast, how she became orphaned, how her father had died defending her mother from pirates and how her uncle and aunt took her in. He told her of his life of privilege and hardship, learning English, Latin, Norse, mathematics, theology and history, not to mention military training and his childhood fear of his older brother Sweyn. ‘It was a blessing, having him for a brother. If you can stand up to Sweyn, you can stand up to anyone,’ he told her.
Gradually, as Harold recovered, they walked further afield. Soon, Harold was able to resume his duties and needed less help. Finn had already made his way back to Magnus and Wulfgith, recalled for the harvest. He was unhappy to leave his charge but soon she too would return home; besides her aunt and uncle were sure nothing untoward would befall her while she was in the earl’s care. But Magnus and Wulfgith had not seen Harold and Edyth together since his illness.
One day when Harold was feeling quite well he and Edyth went for a walk and were caught in a sudden summer shower. There was only one cloud in an otherwise unspoilt blue sky. It was not particularly large but it was black as night and seemed to make straight for them, opening up directly over their heads.
‘Quickly,’ said Harold, taking Edyth’s hand, ‘let’s make for that tree.’
The two ran the short distance to a beech tree and took shelter under its boughs in silence while they got their breath back. The pitter-patter of the rain washed the dust from the air and released a thousand fragrances from flowers and blossoms alike. The gentle whoosh of the wind drew their attention upward, where they noticed leaves fluttering like the wings of a thousand butterflies. The effect was hypnotic.
‘It looks wonderful, doesn’t it?’ he remarked. A few raindrops fell on her face and the eyelids of her lightly tanned face flashed white, which he found entrancing.
‘Yes, it does,’ she replied smiling. ‘But I must confess I am a little cold.’
Harold put his arm round her shoulder and pulled her close to him. ‘I’ll keep you warm.’
The shower was heavy, but short and extremely localised. After it had passed they continued to shelter under the tree, talking, for another hour. It was only when a cart passed close by filled with labourers heading out to the fields that they came back to earth and realised where they were.
‘Afternoon, my Lord, afternoon, my lady,’ came the cheerful calls from the cart.
Harold looked around sheepishly, giving a start when he saw them passing by so close. ‘Good afternoon,’ they called in response.
The cart carried on its way, chuckles and laughter following in its wake. They watched the cart for a moment then turned to each other and laughed.
They stepped out from the cool shade of beech tree into the heat and dazzling sunlight of the hot summer afternoon. There in the crowded countryside everyone was helping with the harvest. They would be hard at it for a month, men with scythes and women with sickles, leaving behind rough golden stubble, the swishing sound of sharp iron blades cutting through the grass, the sweat-soaked swarthy faces fighting against time and a change in the weather.
The pair were decidedly hot when they reached Harold’s home, empty and with no one likely to return until the end of the day. It was with obvious relief that Harold entered the cool of his home. He sat in a chair by the table in the sunroom.
Edyth fetched some cider and poured some for them both. The stoneware goblet kept the drink cool and refreshing and he was glad of the cold touch of it on his lips.
‘How do you feel?’
‘I am glad to be out of the sun. I felt if I had walked into a cobweb I’d be
stuck forever.’
Edyth took a drink of the rose-coloured liquid and enquired through wet lips, ‘But you’re all right now?’
‘Yes, I’m all right now.’
The room was filled with silent excitement and anticipation. Harold stood and put his drink down on the table. Edyth did the same with hers.
‘I hardly know what to say, Edyth.’
Her eyes fixed on his but she remained silent.
‘You’ve been so very kind these last months,’ he continued.
‘You nursed me and stayed here much longer than need be. You saved my life.’
‘It was the least I could do. I might have nursed you but the monks saved you.’
‘Well, thank you all the same. I’m very grateful.’
‘And now you’re fully recovered?’
‘Yes, almost. I only wanted to thank you.’
‘Now you have done that,’ she said with a smile.
There was a moment’s pause. ‘Don’t make it hard for me.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Look into my eyes and you’ll see how I feel about you.’
‘Look into my eyes and you’ll see how I feel about your reputation. They say you’ve had your wicked way with every woman in Wessex.’
This time it was Harold who remained silent.
‘You have nothing to say to that?’
‘It’s not true. It’s simply not true.’
‘You mean that you missed one?’
‘No. No, that’s not what I mean. Why are you mocking me?’ He was confused, hurt and starting to feel exasperated.
‘I didn’t mean to mock you, Harold. That wasn’t my intention. Only… ’
Not knowing how to say what she felt, she stopped.
‘Only…?’
‘I am not sure… ’
‘Not sure of what?’ He was calmer now and gentle.
‘Not sure that I can trust you… ’
He looked directly into her eyes, made all the more alive by the blaze that had started in her cheeks and had now spread now across her face down her neck to the top of her breasts. His head started to swim.
‘You can trust me, take my word for it,’ he said in a voice that did not seem to be his own. He felt driven now, he felt propelled by a force more powerful than the two of them, a force to which he had to submit.
She returned his gaze. ‘I want to trust you but I don’t know what to think.’
‘Then I’ll help you to decide.’
He could wait no longer. They were inches apart. He had never seen a woman more beautiful in his life. She was irresistible. Just looking at her intoxicated him. Letting go of her hands, he reached up to her face and kissed her with a long, deep, loving kiss. She felt his tongue on hers and her heart raced. Her kiss was as sweet as fresh blackberries. He wanted to suck the air from her lungs, so desperately did he want to fuse the two of them together and he set about fulfilling his desire without any further hesitation. Gently he pushed her back onto the table.
Edyth felt a yearning but her ardour was edged with reserve. She would have liked time to think, to have given consideration to what they were doing but her head spun as waves of pleasure swept through her. Harold’s hands found their way through her clothes to her body. She knew she should resist him but her natural responses urged her on. Her limbs grew weak. She couldn’t think, didn’t even want to think; she abandoned her thoughts and let her heart have its way. Her eyes closed and her head filled with a swirling darkness. She lived in a world of overwhelming touch and bursting sensation. Excitement coursed through her, reaching every corner of her being. It was all so new, so much to handle. She let him guide her while she fervently followed wherever he led.
Harold too had travelled to another world, soaring skyward, higher and higher, rising in spirals, flying upwards, reaching beyond the clouds, beyond anything he had ever known until in bliss, in heaven amongst the stars, feeling huge and mighty, like some gigantic entity and yet still a tiny part of the vastness of creation, he had exploded in a blaze of fire and blinding light, before returning slowly, gently, earthward, like a feather, settling effortlessly, like a bird in a tree.
Afterwards, the couple held each other. Golden summer light formed shadows on their bodies, emphasising their contrasting contours and smoothness of flesh. On the clothes-strewn floor, where shards of a broken goblet lay scattered amongst pools and droplets of cider, the lovers lay and laughed and talked and time slipped by. Both of them understood the importance of the moment whose warmth still lingered on. Neither of them wanted to dress or even be the one to suggest it, neither wanted to break the spell, to bring an end to the enchantment. They wanted to suspend the moment for eternity; each knew that was the other’s desire. Neither foresaw the eventual outcome of that golden afternoon. They simply knew that in each other they had found happiness and that nothing would ever be the same again.
As the heat of the afternoon subsided and gave way to a gentler, cooler evening breeze the two heard a commotion outside and before they could get up a tall blond-haired man burst into the room. His face, bronzed by the fiery sun and darkened by dust, ran with rivulets of sweat; he looked down at them, surprise spreading over his handsome face.
‘Harold, I see your health is much improved!’ he joked, through a wicked grin.
‘Tostig, this is a pleasant surprise,’ replied Harold, grabbing his clothes. ‘Give me a minute and I will join you.’
Tostig stood there grinning, his eyes drawn to the naked girl who was also fumbling with her clothes.
‘I meant in another room.’
‘Of course, brother, of course,’ Tostig said as he left.
Once dressed, the pair joined Tostig, who had brought Harold a gift of two peacocks, a male and a female.
‘I thought the colours might cheer you,’ he said, nodding toward the male.
‘Thank you, Tostig. You are very thoughtful. Now tell me the news,’ said Harold.
‘Edward has spent the summer waiting for King Magnus to invade. He’s been sitting in Sandwich harbour with forty ships but all for nothing. Swein fought so hard in Denmark that Magnus became too preoccupied to take on England.’ Looking at Edyth he added, ‘It’s as well Magnus didn’t invade. Without Harold we would have been lost.’
‘Really?’
‘Oh, yes. We’d have been done for.’
‘I think you flatter me,’ laughed Harold, slapping him on the back. ‘Come inside.’
Certain that his brother had recovered from his illness and was in good hands, Tostig left after a couple of nights to help out with the harvest in Wessex. Before he left, he spoke to Harold alone.
‘Is this a serious matter with Edyth?’
‘Yes, brother, it is.’
‘You have forgotten Judith, Count Baldwin’s sister?’
‘Oh.’
‘Oh.’
‘There’s no hurry, is there? I’ve heard nothing from Father these last few months.’
‘Only because of your sickness. Baldwin would not marry his sister to a man near death. Now that you’re quite recovered, and I think we can say that you are, perhaps you will start to feel some pressure.
‘Ah.’
‘Ah.’
Wedding Plans
The early morning autumn sunlight found its way into Harold’s room through the gaps round the window shutters. In the half light Edyth stirred, groaned, then leaned out of bed and threw up into a chamber pot beside the bed.
‘What is wrong with you, Edyth?’
‘Nothing, Harold, it’s quite normal.’
There was a moment’s silence before Harold responded.
‘What do you mean, it’s quite normal?’
She wiped her mouth and lay back in bed. ‘It’s quite normal for a woman in my condition to be sick in the morning.’
‘Your condition? What do you mean by “your condition”?’
‘I’m not certain, but I think I’m going to have a child.’
Ha
rold looked mildly alarmed.
‘Not this minute,’ she assured him.
‘When?’
‘In about seven months’ time.’
Harold seemed at a loss as to what to say next.
‘Aren’t you going to say anything?’ she enquired.
‘That’s wonderful news. Are you sure?’
‘As sure as I can be. Are you happy?’
He leaned toward her and kissed her on the cheek. ‘Absolutely.’
‘What are you thinking about, Harold?’ asked Edyth. She knew his moods well now and thought him a little pensive.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You have a certain look when you’re thinking something over. Talk to me.’
‘I’m thinking about breaking the good news.’
‘Perhaps we should start with our families?’
‘Yes.’
‘I hear you say, “But”.’
‘There are some obstacles I must clear, and then everything will be fine.’
‘Obstacles? Oh yes, I see. Would one of these obstacles be Countess Judith, by chance?’
‘Yes, in part, but not in particular: it has to do with my position and my family. You must understand, as much as I wish it, I can’t yet marry you in the Christian fashion.’
‘What makes you think I would wish to marry you?’
‘Let me explain.’
‘What’s to explain?’
‘Well, I don’t wish to estrange my parents. Our union could cause them difficulties. But if I appear to be free for a political marriage in the future, it will quell opposition from them.’
‘You think of everything, Harold. I’d really no idea you were so clever. It warms my heart.’
‘I don’t wish it this way, Edyth, believe me. It’s expected. It’s my duty to my family and to England. There may come a time when, for the good of the country, I have to marry for the sake of a useful alliance. It would mean nothing on a personal level, of course, and it wouldn’t change anything between us.’
‘No, of course not! You marry somebody whenever you like. Why should I mind?’
‘It’s not my choice, Edyth, but a matter of political necessity.’
‘I don’t see that.’
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