1066

by G. K. Holloway

  By early evening everyone was ready for a meal. Godwin and his sons, along with the captain of each ship and senior housecarls, sat around a fire. Around other fires sat crewmembers, housecarls, volunteers and soldiers of fortune. There was plenty to drink; the mood was good, the summer evening warm and the sea calm. Everyone, feeling he was amongst friends, was in good spirits. The smell of the sea and wood smoke was in the air, so too was the smell of cooking.

  Darkness was falling, as, gathered round campfires, men started to eat. Talking over the sound of the sea as it washed up on to the beach, Godwin reiterated, between mouthfuls of roast meat, the plans he had made over the previous months. He sat there, plate of food in one hand, chunk of mutton in the other, explaining how the family would go about re-establishing itself. His sons were keen to have everything absolutely clear.

  The old earl continued, ‘Now that we have such a large fleet, the situation is much more favourable.’ He paused to take a few chews, juice rolling down his chin. ‘We know we can recruit supporters unmolested,’ he continued, using his sleeve to wipe the grease off his face, ‘and it’s time now to sail up the Channel and collect more volunteers. By the time we round the North Foreland we should have assembled enough forces for our campaign.’

  The salt in the air had given the men a fine appetite and as they listened attentively they spooned their food from their wooden plates and drank back beer and mead with pleasure.

  Godwin continued, ‘When we enter the Thames, part of the fleet, given the chance, will slip inside Sheppey and just to show we mean business, burn down the royal manor at Milton. Ralph and Odda are guarding the estuary but I don’t think they’ll give us much trouble. We should sail straight up to London.’

  Harold enquired, ‘Do you know where the King’s likely to be?’

  ‘The King’s staying in London this year. He’s expecting us to attack him in the south and so wants to be on hand in case of trouble. The earls should be with him but, as last year in Gloucester, they’ll only have escorts. It’ll take time to bring all the troops in and even if that should happen, Edward will have no need of them. It’ll all be over.’

  ‘You seem very well informed about what’s happening, father.’

  ‘Stigand keeps me informed,’ answered Godwin, with a twinkle in his eye.

  ‘What about the navy? Won’t it be in London? It could be a problem for us.’

  ‘It could be, but Ansgar, Edric and Merleswein are bringing in men from Anglia, and Stigand will arrange for our London supporters to be on the riverbanks. The men of Wessex who support us but who can’t join our expedition will travel overland. There’ll be a formidable show of strength and support for our cause.’

  ‘I’m surprised so many are willing to rise up against Edward. After all is said and done, he is their king.’

  ‘And ours,’ asserted Tostig.

  ‘True, he wears the crown but the Normans make the decisions and what’s more, everybody knows it.’

  ‘Even so, won’t we be committing treason?’

  ‘Treason! I’ll have no talk of treason! I’ve always been loyal to the King, this king and all the others that have come and gone before him. So I’ll have no talk of treason. Some of you may ask, is what we intend legal? I would say it is! The King is the one who is acting outside the law. He’s banished us from our own lands without even a trial and refuses to hear our appeal. Does anyone know with what we have been formally charged? No!’ snapped Godwin, little globules of spit flying from his reddened face and the wild wind blowing his hair this way and that.

  ‘The Count of Flanders and the King of France have interceded on our behalf,’ he continued, slightly calmer now, ‘pleading with Edward to see reason and grant us a trial, not a pardon mind you, just a trial. We have been denied even that. Therefore it is Edward who is acting illegally and we cannot have a king who acts outside the law. He must be dealt with accordingly.’

  Taking a moment to recompose himself Godwin continued, ‘Now, I take the view that if a man acts outside the law, then he shouldn’t enjoy the protection of the law. For instance, supposing someone acted outside the law against you, wouldn’t you take the same view? What if you discovered a man attacking your wife, what would you do? You’d take action, wouldn’t you? If you found a man stealing what was yours, what would you do? You’d take action, wouldn’t you? And if in the course of that action the villain got hurt, would you then expect to compensate him? No, you would not.’

  ‘Not that I intend for this particular villain to get hurt, even though the man himself might seem undeserving of our loyalty. He’s still the King and as such it’s not for us to remove him or cause him injury of any sort. That’s in the hands of God Almighty,’ said Godwin, looking heavenward for effect.

  With that, Godwin took another swig of wine from his drinking horn and when it was drained, pushed it back into the sand. ‘The King, if he’s wise, will back down from our challenge and we’ll be reinstated, Edith will be back at Edward’s side and Wulfnoth and Haakon will be returned to us. But let me make it quite clear, just in case there are any doubts, we are also returning for the sake of England; we have to rescue Edward from the Norman beast that, against the nature of things, seems to have manipulated the King into acting against his will. What if this continues, where will it stop? How many families will live in misery, paying increased taxes as a result of Norman greed, or be driven from their lands? Is it England’s future to suffer foreign rule? No! Remove the Norman and free Edward. Free Edward and we free ourselves. But he must listen to reason and reinstate us.’

  ‘You make it sound simple, father.’

  ‘Harold, this will work. I’m convinced.’ Then as if signalling the end of the conversation, looking around at no one in particular, he took his horn from the sand and without checking to see if it had been refilled, drank deep. Godwin’s servants knew better than to keep him waiting.

  ‘My only regret is that Sweyn won’t be with us when it happens.’ The old earl looked deeply saddened by the thought. ‘And I’ve had another idea but I’ll tell you all about that when we’re safely installed in London,’ he said gruffly.

  Now a chill sea air blew on to the beach and the men huddled deeper into their cloaks and blankets. Some crawled into their leather sleeping bags, others edged closer to the fire.

  In the clear black summer sky the stars and the golden moon shone brightly. On the breeze, the chords from someone’s lyre floated on the night air; the music mixed with the sound of the gentle breaking of the waves, forming a lullaby to send the warriors to sleep. Godwin and his sons were still drinking, singing, reminiscing, telling new riddles and stories of bold adventurers and solving the problems of the world long into the night.

  The next day Godwin with his sons and their men, after a blessing by Edmund, set sail for London, stopping off to pick up followers at their home town of Bosham before sailing eastwards along the coast to gather supporters in Pevensey, Hastings and Sandwich.

  When they arrived in Dover they were made so welcome they thought they would never be able to leave. It had been a year since Count Eustace had fought with and slain the residents and memories were still fresh and feelings raw. Since the expulsion of Godwin, under their new lord Robert de Jumieges the so-called transgressions of the Dover riots had been cruelly punished. There had been rent increases and more taxes and for this the people of Kent had seen nothing in return, except for one injustice after another.

  Now Godwin had returned and brought an army with him, they saw him as their saviour. The roar of the crowd was deafening; Dover had seen nothing like it and rather than make a speech, Godwin gave up and allowed himself to be carried to the town’s great hall to be entertained with his sons and some of his men. The whole town joined in the celebrations and the party continued until the next day when, amid the cheers and best wishes of the townsfolk the exiles, with a bigger force than the one they had arrived with, left for London.

  Half way up the Thames Es
tuary, Earls Ralph and Odda lay in wait with fifty of the King’s ships but as the invaders’ formidable fleet advanced, made what they later called a strategic decision to withdraw. Edward had received news of the invasion when the exiles passed by Sandwich. He calculated a battle would be fought and won well downriver from London. It was a shock for him when his fleet returned, without any sign of having engaged the enemy, to moor just upstream from London Bridge. The shame-faced crew disembarked to the jeers and taunts of the locals.

  King Edward saw nothing else for it but to hold London. It was with an acute sense of urgency that Edward gave instructions to send for reinforcements. As Godwin had predicted, troops answered slowly the call to arms. In the meantime, Harold’s followers and Godwin’s men in East Anglia and Wessex who could be spared from the harvest were already making their way to the city.

  Unhindered, Godwin’s fleet sailed up the Thames, heading straight for London Bridge. When they came into view a deafening cheer went up from the crowd that had gathered there for the spectacle. Godwin, in the lead ship, heard the roar and his face lit up with a maniacal grin. ‘They’re with us lads, they’re with us,’ he bellowed back to his sons in the following ships. As if in celebration of the earls’ return, in the maze of streets sloping away from the bridge and the river, London’s many churches were ringing their bells for the feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, as if even the Church welcomed them back. Godwin rushed up to the bow, shouting and waving back at the crowd, which responded with a cheer and began to chant, ‘Godwin, Godwin, Godwin!’

  The old Earl grew even more outrageous as he realised the strength of his support. He bellowed at the happy throng and, laughing like a mad man, whipped up the crowd.

  Just short of the bridge Godwin gave the signal to cast the anchor. Harold and Tostig’s ships drew up on his right; Leofwine and Gyrth’s on his left. The other ships stayed close behind. Still the crowd chanted.

  ‘Where’s the port reeve?’ Godwin shouted above the din. Someone must have read his lips because there was no way he could be heard.

  Gradually the crowd began to chant ‘Aelfsige!’

  The port reeve appeared on the bridge, looking a little flustered. He looked down to see Godwin smiling up at him. ‘Aelfsige, do we have your permission to enter port?’

  The port reeve caught the gist of the request and nodded his head. What else could he do? Another roar went up as Godwin beamed an enormous smile at the port reeve before performing an elaborate bow. As the noise of the spectators grew ever louder, Godwin ordered the crew of his ship to put out the oars. Out of each side of his ship thirty oars appeared.

  ‘What’s he doing now?’ shouted Tostig to Harold.

  ‘I don’t believe it. He’s going to walk the oars.’

  ‘What!’

  The crowd, seeing what he intended, yelled encouragement at Godwin. A band of minstrels now struck up and began playing popular folk songs, mostly drowned out by the mob. Enterprising tradesmen sold beer and pies.

  ‘He’s going to walk the oars,’ Harold replied.

  ‘Let’s just get under the bridge while we’ve got the chance. Tell him, Harold, he might listen to you,’ Tostig bellowed as loud as he could.

  ‘I don’t think there’s much chance of that.’ Harold turned to see his father cast aside a drinking horn, clamber out of the ship and start walking along the outstretched oars. ‘Walk’ is hardly the right word to use to describe the tradition still popular with English and Scandinavian seafarers. In order to celebrate a successful voyage an entire crew of a longship might walk the oars of their ship, which would entail the oarsmen keeping the oars protruding out from the ship. Starting with the captain, each man would stride or rather leap from one oar to the next, from the stern to the bow of the ship. As each oar was spaced slightly more than anyone could stride this meant the oar walker would have to bounce from one oar to the next. Once started, it was practically impossible to stop. The only way to stay dry was to make it safely back to the bow of the ship where the successful crewman would be presented with a horn full of ale. Naturally he would have to drink this before getting in line to make a second attempt. This past-time was best not entered into at Godwin’s time of life. But what did he care? Wobbling about, he managed over five of oars before he lost his balance. He was laughing even as he entered the water. His helmsman, Eadric the steersman, threw him a line and hauled him in, while all the time Godwin shouted to his sons to join him. Leofwine was the first out on to the oars and the first to complete the walk. The crowd roared encouragement.

  King Edward, watching from his vantage point on the riverbank, felt his heart sink. De Jumieges, by his side, saw how dismayed he was. ‘Don’t be concerned, my Lord,’ he said by way of reassurance, ‘what you see is the reaction of the rabble to the promise of a little entertainment and the opportunity to get drunk. They will celebrate just as much when you banish Godwin once more. Mark my words.’

  Stigand, overhearing the conversation, said nothing. Leofric and Siward remained silent but watchful, calculating how far Godwin would go and how they would respond.

  On the river the scene was mayhem. After Leofwine, Harold, Tostig and finally Gyrth had performed the walking of the oars. Godwin had the idea of them walking the oars of their ships together, which they did successfully, to the delight of the onlookers, who much to Godwin’s joy started jumping off the bridge to join them.

  Upstream, on the other side of the bridge, Earls Odda and Ralph looked on, the questioning eyes of their crews seeking orders. The two men had none.

  As the tide turned, Godwin’s longships started to drift upstream. Acting quickly, the crews steeped the masts and the vessels manoeuvred under the bridge. Once they had passed under they knew they were home.

  When all the ships were safely under the bridge, Godwin led them to Southwark, where he immediately set about taking up residence in his old home. No one on the south bank put up the slightest opposition to him; he was greeted with deafening cheers and shouts of encouragement wherever the crowd caught sight of him. On the north bank and the bridge, the crowds, organised by Stigand and Ansgar, cheered and waved. The people were with them. Godwin’s army disembarked and arrayed itself along the riverbank. Reinforcements were pouring in from Kent, Surrey and Sussex. As every minute passed by, Godwin’s strength increased.

  Edward again, as he had done the previous year, had had his throne placed on a wagon and taken out along the riverside, close to the bridge. Archbishop de Jumieges was at his side as they jolted and jarred on their riverside journey. The rest of the court was in close attendance and the men in arms followed in turn.

  The King’s court and housecarls surrounded them; all around the excited crowd was gathered. As they came to a halt by the bridge, Edward addressed his earls.

  ‘Malcolm,’ the King called out, ‘come up here and join me.’

  As instructed, the young Scot dismounted and approached the King.

  ‘Watch me and learn well a lesson in kingship,’ Edward told him, ‘it will stand you in good stead in the future, my boy.’

  ‘If you want lessons in kingship, keep your eye on Godwin,’ muttered Ansgar, as his friend passed by.

  ‘So, my Lords, do you have the stomach for a fight?’ asked Edward.

  Edward’s nephew Ralph, timid as ever, said nothing, Odda likewise. Earl Aelfgar was not going to speak before his father and so Edward waited for Leofric or Siward to answer the question.

  It was Earl Siward who replied, ‘My lord …’

  ‘The answer’s no, isn’t it? If it is, just say so. Let’s not beat about the bush.’

  ‘Let’s see what he wants,’ said Siward flatly.

  ‘See what he wants!’ seethed de Jumieges, who was standing next to the King.

  ‘Isn’t it obvious? He wants to be reinstated. In fact he probably wants more than that, he wants the crown. And what are you going to do about it?’

  Siward met de Jumieges’ gaze. ‘We don’t know what h
e wants until he tells us.’

  ‘I’ve just told you what he wants,’ yelled de Jumieges, fear driving him to fury. The fog in his suspicious mind was clearing; he could see now, only too well, which way the wind was blowing. The other Normans at court looked decidedly unsettled.

  ‘Are you privy to information of which the rest of us are ignorant?’ enquired Siward calmly, somewhat enjoying de Jumieges’ distress.

  ‘It’s obvious! It’s obvious,’ hissed the incensed Archbishop through gritted teeth.

  Turning away from the Archbishop, Siward addressed the King serenely. ‘My Lord, if your counsellors were to advise you, they might suggest sending someone to enquire. Should we see exactly what Godwin wants?’

  ‘Very well,’ the King replied. ‘Bishop Stigand, please find out why Godwin is here.’

  ‘Yes, my Lord,’ answered Stigand, suppressing a smile.

  History repeated itself as Bishop Stigand mounted his horse and cantered across the bridge to convey the King’s message, the clatter of hooves on the wooden structure echoing the past, adding a drum roll to heighten the tension. On the other side, waiting patiently, were Godwin and his sons.

  ‘Stigand old friend, how are you?’ called out Godwin.

  ‘Earl Godwin,’ replied Stigand, dismounting, ‘welcome back. And you too,’ he added, throwing his arms around each of the sons in turn. ‘Edmund, it’s good to see you again,’ he said, hugging the monk.

  Edward, showing more than a little consternation, watched the Bishop from the opposite bank.

  ‘Is that how we welcome back traitors?’ asked Edward, of anyone who could hear him. ‘I didn’t think he would be so pleased to see them,’ exclaimed the King, looking perplexed and noting Leofric’s and Siward’s expressions. ‘You know something, don’t you? What is it?’ Edward demanded.

  The two earls did their best both to look innocent and perplexed by the King’s question; they remained silent and looked awkward.