‘I have some more news of your son, Sweyn. It seems he’s been busy in Wales.’
‘I knew Sweyn could deal with the Welsh.’
‘Yes, he did and he found another use for his time too,’ replied Edward. ‘It seems he’s abducted Abbess Eadgifu of Leominster, from her abbey. If my information is correct, then your son will be in as much trouble with the Pope as he is with me. Heaven only knows what he’s going to do with her.’
Godwin knew only too well what Sweyn would do with her.
‘My Lord, I’m sure there has been a mistake …’
‘Yes, Earl Godwin and your son Sweyn has made it.’
‘I’ll make amends. I shall seek Sweyn out and have him brought before you and I shall also have the Abbess returned.’
‘Intact,’ said Edward, by way of an order, rather than a request.
‘I shall do my best to have her restored without scandal, my Lord.’
‘You had best start right away.’
Two Years Later
Two years had passed since Tostig’s and Judith’s wedding. Both appeared happy and Ketel, their first son, brought them immense joy.
Magnus’s threatened invasion never materialised.
Sweyn Godwinson had not been seen by anyone in England for three years. He had released the abbess Eadgifu but only after he had been threatened with excommunication. She was taken to Bosham for her confinement; fearful that her assailant’s kin might murder her and bury her along with the scandal at sea, and having heard such terrible things about Godwin, she scarcely slept for the first week. She was eventually able to trust her hosts and gave birth to Sweyn’s child the following spring in a thunderstorm and a flood of tears. A week later, Eadgifu left Bosham for good. As agreed, the Godwins took her son in and brought him up as one of their own. She never saw her boy again and did not even know his name. She knew nothing of his character but she thought of him every day in the cave where she lived as a hermit for many years until her eventual demise, long after his own tragic death.
As Sweyn had incurred the wrath of the Pope, Edward had the excuse to banish him and had divided his earldom equally between Beorn and Harold.
Harold and Edyth had become parents for a second time and chose to call their second-born son Edmund, after East Anglia’s most venerated saint and Harold’s good friend, the priest. It was a choice that went down well in the earldom. People saw it as a demonstration that their new earl, though a West Saxon, had respect for them. They were also pleased to see a small college opened at Waltham. It was there to educate the children of East Anglia’s thanes. A lot of trouble had been taken to find the right college chancellor and a Suffolk abbot by the name of Adlehard had been appointed. He proved an excellent choice and soon won respect and affection. Harold, one way and another, won more friends as each month went by. For most, his only faults were his leniency and his dallying.
Earlier in the year messengers had arrived from Zealand with news of King Magnus’s murder by his uncle Harald Sigurdsson who had recently returned from his fabulous adventures in Byzantium. Swein returned to Denmark and was elected king. He had at last begun what was to become his long reign over Denmark.
That summer most of Europe, including the Pope, was at war with Count Baldwin of Flanders. Not surprisingly, the war was not going well for the count. The Holy Roman Emperor, Henry III, requested Edward to prevent Baldwin escaping from Flanders by sea. Edward responded by moving the English fleet to Sandwich to await news of any sightings of him. For the English, this had been a quiet time. The weather had been pleasant and the nobles had enjoyed many a fine day’s hunting. Returning late to their camp one afternoon, all in good spirits after another successful day’s deer hunting with the King, Godwin, his sons and nephew Beorn were exchanging good-natured banter while the grooms led the horses off to the stables when completely unexpectedly Sweyn appeared, as if from nowhere.
‘Father, I’m home!’
‘Sweyn, my son, it’s so good to see you again!’ Godwin greeted his son with a great bear hug; the two men were thrilled to see each other.
‘And it’s good to see you again, father.’ Then turning to the others he enquired, ‘What’s the matter? Isn’t anyone else going to welcome me?’
Harold was the first to speak: ‘You’ll have to forgive us, Sweyn. It’s not every day we have a visit from an exile and it’s unlike you to make a social visit. To what do we owe this unexpected pleasure?’
‘I’ve had enough of banishment and thought that I’d like to come home, back in the bosom of my family. There’s no harm in that, is there?’
‘That’s great news, son,’ interjected Godwin. ‘We’ll see Edward at the earliest opportunity. I’m sure he’ll agree to your returning.’
Godwin’s other sons were astonished.
‘Wouldn’t you like Sweyn back, boys?’
At first no one answered. Each looked to the other.
‘Well’ snapped Godwin, ‘Sweyn has returned from his travels and you don’t have anything to say to him. What kind of a welcome is that?’
‘Join us for food and drink,’ offered Harold.
‘Yes, son, you must be in need of refreshment after your journey,’ added Godwin, indicating to a servant.
‘Well, this calls for a celebration; the prodigal son has returned,’ beamed Godwin, slapping Sweyn on the back. ‘Let’s hear your news. Join me in my tent, everyone.’
The men made their way to the tent, Godwin and Sweyn chatting all the way.
‘I’ve just come up from Bosham,’ Sweyn volunteered.
‘Did you see your mother?’ enquired Godwin, keen to hear news of his wife.
‘Yes. She’s well and sends her love.’
‘And Haakon? Did you see him?’
Sweyn was unsettled by this question about his son and mumbled a reply.
When they reached the tent they made themselves comfortable. Godwin’s servants arrived with drinks. Godwin ordered one of them to take a message to the King.
‘Tell him that Sweyn Godwinson has just ridden all the way over from Bosham and requests an audience at his convenience.’
The food arrived and they all began to eat. Godwin soon noticed that in the awkward atmosphere only he and Sweyn were talking.
After a short while the messenger returned. ‘The King will see you in an hour, my Lord.’
‘There, I knew everything would be all right,’ stated the ever-confident Godwin, but the atmosphere amongst the men was no less strained.
At the appointed time, Godwin, with all of his sons and his nephew Beorn, entered the King’s hall, which was Edward’s residence for the duration of the blockade. There was a touching innocence to the way Godwin and Sweyn entered the room. It was as though they were naughty children and thought all they had to do was to say sorry to father and everything would be forgiven. The other members of the family entered as if to do battle, with the exception of young Wulfnoth, who was there only as an observer.
Edward sat impassively, greeting them all as one. He had been at prayer, examining his conscience in preparation for his audience with Sweyn. It was becoming his habit to make important decisions only after a period meditation and prayer, except when he flew into a rage. Edward could prove ruthless to anyone who caused him offence, though he was never physically cruel: he never killed, imprisoned or mutilated his enemies, but only because he preferred to punish them by making them suffer the misery of exile such as he had endured in Normandy. But when his rage had been subdued and his anger cooled, he was penitent. He would pray for forgiveness, forgive offenders and sometimes go as far as inviting exiles to return home. Sweyn was hoping that today the King was in a forgiving mood.
‘I hear you’ve ruined yourself with the Danes, Sweyn. Tell me, just what is it you have to do, to be banished by Vikings?’
This was news to the rest of the party, who had assumed Sweyn had returned from exile of his own volition.
‘There was just a little misunderstanding and everyone got overexc
ited. So here I am. But I have gifts for you, my Lord.’
‘Really,’ responded Edward, looking around the room for treasure.
‘Well, I didn’t bring them with me. I’ve come straight from Bosham and …’
‘What Sweyn means, my Lord, is that he was so keen to see you, that in his hurry, he completely forgot the gifts he’s brought for you He let his enthusiasm get the better of him. You know how impetuous he can be,’ Godwin interjected.
‘Impetuous!’ Edward’s eyebrow rose. ‘Yes, I suppose that’s one word you could use to describe him.’
‘Well …’ Godwin was about to start to argue the case for Sweyn’s reinstatement but changed his mind and looking at Sweyn he said, ‘I think he had better speak for himself, my Lord.’
Sweyn stepped forward and said, as if by rote, ‘Sire, I realise how wrong I have been in the past and how wicked have been my many transgressions. I am truly sorry for all of the harm I have done to everyone concerned and any offence I might have caused to anyone, not least to you, my Lord. I have been a fool, even to myself. The long years of exile have provided an opportunity for me to reflect on these matters and I see clearly now the error of my ways. I am truly penitent. Please find it in your heart to allow me to return and prove to you my worthiness.’
Edward was thunderstruck. He had never thought Sweyn capable of stringing together more than five words at a time, let alone of making sense. It took him a moment to collect himself.
‘Sweyn, much as I would wish to welcome you back into the kingdom, the decision is not entirely mine. You have upset, even outraged, too many people, including the Pope. It would be no easy thing to reinstate you. Can you honestly see yourself living a quiet life over in Bosham?’
‘Bosham? Why would I want to live in Bosham?’
‘Isn’t that your family home?’
‘Yes, but I want my earldom back.
‘You want your banishment lifted and your old earldom reinstated?’ Edward paused for a moment in order to take in the magnitude of the request and to let Sweyn reflect on just exactly what it was he was asking. ‘You must have discussed this with your brothers? What do they think?’
It was Harold who replied: ‘My Lord, it is only now I have been informed of my brother’s desire for the reinstatement of his former position and property. But the earldom is now mine. He relinquished any rights to it when you banished him. I will give up to Sweyn nothing that you gave to me as a gift. He has neither my agreement nor support for his return.’
‘What! What do you mean?’ snarled Sweyn.
‘Thank you, Sweyn,’ interjected Edward. ‘You will have your chance to make your contribution to the proceedings in a short while. Thank you, Earl Harold.
‘Earl Beorn, what do you have to say?’
‘I agree with my cousin Harold, my Lord and I have nothing to add.’
‘You as well? You bastard!’ yelled Sweyn, fury getting the better of him.
‘In my court you will refrain from that sort of behaviour,’ Edward remonstrated.
Sweyn was livid and stepped forward to protest.
‘You have four days to leave the country. If you are seen in my kingdom at any time after that date you will be treated as an outlaw. Do you understand?’
‘What! That’s not fair!’
‘I said, goodbye,’ snapped the King.
Godwin reached forward and grabbed Sweyn’s arm, at the same time thanking Edward for the audience. The family took a few steps back as they bowed, then turned and left.
‘Bastards,’ hissed Sweyn. He could barely repress his rage. ‘You treacherous bastards! How could you do that to me? You mangy curs! How could you do that to me?’
‘Sweyn,’ replied Harold calmly, ‘what do you expect?’
‘I expect loyalty!’
Godwin had to hold his incensed son by both arms now. They were out in the open, everyone around them looking on.
‘Then you expect what you never give,’ Harold replied. ‘Where’s your loyalty to our family? You bring nothing but shame and disgrace on us all.’
‘Bastard! I’ll kill you, dog!’ snarled the enraged Sweyn, still struggling violently. Tostig, Gyrth, Leofric and Beorn, as well as Godwin, were now holding him back while Wulfnoth gawped at the scene before him. Even with five of them holding him, it was difficult to control Sweyn.
‘I’m ready for you Sweyn, let’s finish this now,’ said Harold, calmly pulling his sword from its scabbard, ‘or are you all talk?’
Sweyn struggled harder than ever.
‘Let go of him,’ snapped Harold.
‘Put your sword away, Harold, and get out of here; this is only making matters worse,’ ordered Godwin.
‘Let him go. I’ll finish him off. He’s a mad dog and the only thing to do with him is to put him down.’
‘I’m head of this family and what I say stands. Now put your sword away and be gone,’ snapped Godwin.
Harold thought for a few moments, looked coldly at Sweyn and said, ‘You have another reason to be indebted to our father. He’s just saved your life.’
Harold put his sword away and sauntered back to his ship. With the help of his other sons, Godwin dragged Sweyn, cursing, swearing, ranting and raving, in the opposite direction, shouting at Harold what he would do to him, if they ever should meet again.
When Sweyn eventually calmed down, he left for Bosham, embittered by what he considered his unjust treatment.
Next morning, Edward received news from a messenger that enemy ships had been seen in the Channel. Godwin took forty-five ships, including one commanded by Harold and his younger brother Tostig. Ralph and Malcolm Canmore went along for the ride. Beorn commanded another ship. As soon as they left harbour the fine day turned sour. The wind rose and so did the swell. Spray blew over the longships; sailors’ faces were whipped by their hair, the sky turned from blue through grey to black. Cold rain fell and it soon became obvious to everyone that to seek an enemy fleet in the storm would be to invite disaster. By the end of the day, they had sailed only as far as Pevensey, where they had become weather-bound.
The wind blew hard and rain lashed buildings and boats alike. In the crowded tavern where Godwin and his sons were waiting out the storm, shutters were closed against the furious elements. Everywhere was dark and deserted while the tempest continued to rage through the evening and all through the night.
Sweyn, on his journey back to Bosham to rejoin his men and ships, had also been caught in the storm. He spent the night with a farmer and his family. The next day, riding along the coast, he could not help but notice the King’s fleet taking shelter in Pevensey harbour. Seeing an opportunity to regain his earldom, he turned and made his way down to the seafront. Huddled in his cloak, astride his horse, he drew no one’s attention as he rode into town.
Beorn was aboard his ship, which was tied up to a wharf. He was overseeing the checking and securing of its small cargo of provisions. Most of the crew were crammed into an inn to wait out the storm. Sweyn recognised the ship by its distinctive dragon’s head prow and the sail, furled around the mast, with gold and red strips that marked it out as Beorn’s. Sweyn was unseen by anyone as he dismounted from his horse and stepped across to the boat. He shouted but his cousin couldn’t hear him above the noise of the wind. Sweyn climbed aboard.
Beorn saw him but it was a moment before he recognised him. He was immediately suspicious; a cheery grin and wave from Sweyn did nothing to alleviate his fears.
‘Sweyn, this is another surprise.’
‘Yes,’ replied Sweyn, almost apologetically. ‘Beorn, I need your help,’ he began. ‘I need you to come with me to see the King.’ He could see the shock register on Beorn’s face but pressed on. ‘I dearly want to improve my relations with him. You’re the only one who can help. I know if I can just see him, he’ll allow me to swear friendship to him and I can take oaths to reassure him of my loyalty.’
‘Sweyn, do you really think that will work? You heard what he said; you h
ave four days’ safe passage.’
‘Well, that still leaves me with three. Please come with me,’ he pleaded, ‘please.’
The conversation was growing intense and the three other members of Beorn’s crew who were still on board gathered around their captain in case he should need assistance.
Eventually Sweyn persuaded Beorn to hurry with him to the King. Having commandeered four horses for Beorn and the sailors, the party rode off towards Sandwich. They had travelled less than two miles when Sweyn called a halt.
‘We must go to Bosham first.’
‘What for? It’s forty miles away and in the wrong direction.’
‘I have to make sure my crew doesn’t desert me. If I don’t return soon they might think the King has had me killed.’
‘It’s a long ride on a day like this and then we’ve got the journey back.’
‘Don’t worry about that. A warm welcome awaits you in Bosham and this storm will soon pass, then we can sail back to Sandwich.’
‘If you say so,’ Beorn reluctantly agreed.
And with that the party made its way to Bosham. They rode through the gale until soaked through, cold and wet, they reached Bosham as sunset approached and where at last the rain stopped and the wind was not so wild.
Sweyn informed the party he intended to go the ships straight away, to see his crews.
‘Come with me, Beorn. Come and see my fleet. I think you’ll find some handsome ships amongst them.’
‘Can’t this wait until tomorrow? It’s late and I’m cold and wet. Besides, I can see them from here.’
‘Come on, Beorn. It won’t take a moment. You can have a closer look at the ships and I’ll see the crew are all right.’
‘As long as you’re quick.’
The riders made their way down to the little harbour at Quaymeadow. They had been spotted and some of Sweyn’s sailors stepped out of their ships and on to the quayside to meet them.
‘Welcome back, my Lord. I trust the news is good?’ one of them shouted over the crashing of the waves.
‘No. No, I’m afraid it’s not good, not yet anyway. I am still banished. But we’re going to see the King once more and Earl Beorn is going to help me change his mind. Aren’t you, cousin?’ he smiled.
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