Man With a Sword

by Henry Treece

  Swein put his arms about the Englishman’s neck and embraced him. ‘Why, God be praised,’ he said, ‘you have arrived safely, Earl Godwine. The seas have been rough, my shipmen tell me. Even they have had to neglect the silver fish and eat mutton. Yet you pass over the waves with only rust on your mail to show for it.’

  Earl Godwine made a pretence at a smile and then sat down on an oak bench without being invited. He said in a rough mumbling voice, ‘Swein Estrith-son, the seas were bad; but if they had topped my mainmast, I still must have come. Yes, even if I had had to walk on the sea-bottom.’

  Swein smiled and nodded. This was the way Godwine always spoke - as though he had power over wind and wave and thunder, as well as over the English earls and the new English King, Edward.

  ‘You would not surprise me, whatever you did,’ he answered, wondering what the Englishman was going to say.

  Earl Godwine cleared his throat and pointed to one of the others, a man with a pointed red beard already well grown. ‘This is my son, my eldest, named Swein like yourself. He’s a fool, my friend, but a good man with the horse and the sword. Can you give him house-room?’

  King Swein nodded, wondering why Godwine should be so anxious to send one of his sons away. Godwine answered this question in his next breath.

  ‘This madman has tried to marry an abbess - of all things to do - and now the bishops are yelping after his excommunication. He could have chosen any woman in England - but he has to pick a woman who has vowed herself to God! Not even the King can save him - if indeed our new King wants to. It is my belief that Edward is glad that such ill fame has come to my family, praying dotard that he is!’

  King Swein pulled at his lip and said, ‘All young fellows make mistakes. I married five times before I found the woman I could truly love. That is not important. What of your son’s earldom - now that is important.’

  Godwine thumped the table hard and said, ‘He has lost that, the young ass. The court is full of Normans now - barons and bishops and so on. They will not hear of him staying a minute longer on English soil. They treat him like a wolf. ‘ A son of mine - like a flea-bitten wolf.’

  Earl Swein began to shuffle on the stone floor and to look angry. ‘All will be well, father,’ he said. ‘When my sister has had a chance to plead for me. She is the Queen of England.’

  Godwine blew out his breath with a great sound and clenched hard on his sword-hilt. ‘Before God,’ he swore, ‘was there ever a man blighted by such an idiot of a son! Don’t you understand, fool, that your sister cannot overrule bishops? And if she could, she is powerless against barons. But Holy Edward will never listen to her. He is in the hand of the Church.’

  King Swein rubbed his long nose. ‘Perhaps you have the answer there, Earl Godwine. If your son made the pilgrimage to Jerusalem…’

  But King Swein got no further. The third Englishman stepped forward and even leaned on the King’s chair. His face was very flat and very hard, covered with crossed sword-cuts and tufts of dark beard growing right up to his eyes. His fingernails were ridged and ragged. He had two daggers in his belt.

  He said, ‘I am Harold, King.’

  King Swein drew away a little, wondering if this Harold was the berserk that men said. His voice was very rough, more used to shouting than talking, it seemed. The Danish King smiled and said, ‘I knew who you were, Earl. I saw the great ring of Wessex on your finger. I am fortunate to greet such a warrior. They say over here that you make a practice of killing five Welshmen before breakfast. Is that true?’

  Harold Godwinson did not smile at this remark. His eyes were flat and grey and empty-looking. He stared through Swein as though he was reading the Arabic inscription on the back of the oak chair. He said, ‘Welshmen are great fighters, King. I have killed a few - but only by luck. The oldest of the gods fight on their side. It is not of Welshmen I will speak. I speak of my brother, Earl Swein. We are a great family. We hold three parts of England. We have a sister for Queen. And before we have done, we may be even greater. This I tell you so that you will understand. Things will change in England, Swein Estrith-son. The Normans think that they are already masters there, but the Godwine family will show them that the old days can still come back. A man of Danish blood can still sit on the throne in Winchester.’

  King Swein’s eyes gleamed for a moment. He thought that Harold was speaking of him. But it was not so.

  ‘I am brother to the Queen, ‘ Harold went on flatly. ‘And my mother was sister to King Cnut. One day, who knows, the gods may throw the crown into my lap.’

  King Swein looked up almost in horror, but Harold’s face was still set and expressionless. Earl Godwine was playing with a small meat-knife that a servant had left on the trestle-table and smiling.

  King Swein forced a smile to his own lips and said, ‘Yes, Earl Harold; what then?’

  Harold loosed his hold on the arm of the King’s chair and went back to Earl Swein, putting his arm about him and standing firm.

  ‘This,’ he said. ‘I will not have any brother of mine packed off to Jerusalem like a common rogue to make his peace with the Church. I want him to stay here, where he can be called upon if the need rises, not shrivelling away in some desert place and leaving his bones for jackals.’

  King Swein folded his hands in his lap and said, ‘I think it can be arranged, lords. There is nothing strange in what you ask. After all, my own brother Beorn has an earldom in England, and my other brother, Osbern, leads a comfortable life there, too. Perhaps one day he may become an earl as well.’

  Godwine was digging the little knife into the table and did not answer. So the King said hastily, ‘It shall be as you say; Earl Swein shall stay here and be treated like my own son. How does that seem to you all?’

  Only Earl Godwine answered quietly, looking down at the point of the knife. ‘It is as well. You will get our support when you fight against Magnus of Norway. We shall also support the Emperor, and my daughter will see that our King Edward does the same. So you will end by having us all on your side against Magnus. Is that not a good bargain?’

  King Swein hesitated. To have Englishmen telling him what to do - and men who were not even kings! They were hardly more than brigands, though of noble blood. They had not been into the dark groves at midnight to wash in the blood of the sacred horse; they had not dreamed the ‘King’s Dream’, when Odin came to the dreamer like a raven and spoke the words of blessing; nor had they then gone to church and been anointed by the bishops and given a cross of sticks to carry before all the people.

  All the same, thought King Swein, a man must do as he may. He bowed his head to Earl Godwine and said, ‘I will protect your son. And I will join you in putting an end to Count Baldwin. In return, I call on the unseen witnesses to hear that you have promised to help me in destroying Magnus of Norway.’

  He expected Godwine and his sons to get on their knees to him then, but they were hardly listening. They were looking at something that was happening outside in the courtyard.

  Annoyed, King Swein got up from his chair and said, ‘What is it?’

  Godwine flung the knife carelessly into a corner and yawned. ‘There is a woman, carried in a litter. She has fifty knights with her. They carry the banner of the German Emperor, so it must be Gunhilda who comes.’

  Earl Swein laughed and said, ‘Why, that old nag! She must be coming to ask for another young man to protect her. Her great husband, the Emperor, seems to neglect her - and I don’t wonder! They say that any young Englishman with a good sword arm can get service in her retinue. I even thought of going myself!’

  Earl Harold’s lips tightened and his beard jutted out. For a moment it seemed that he might strike his brother. But instead he said grimly, ‘You forget who you are, brother. Save yourself for better things. From what I can see through the window, she has a champion already. A crop-haired English-looking fellow with a broken byrnie. He’ll be some adventurer with an empty belly and a thirsty sword, no doubt.’

 
King Swein looked into the courtyard.

  ‘The young man’s name is Hereward,’ he said. ‘He came over to defend the Empress’s good name in Flanders against one of the berserks that Magnus sends about the countryside. A giant called Kormac.’

  Earl Godwine turned from the window and snorted. ‘I have heard of this Hereward,’ he said. ‘His father was a small thegn in the Fenland. He got burned out when that fool Harthacnut went mad and thought he had a rebellion to deal with. Hereward is nothing but a young sword-swinger. If Gunhilda depends on him, then the world has grown to be a playground for idiots and children.’

  Earl Harold was sitting in King Swein’s chair now, tugging at his tufted beard. ‘I have been thinking, father,’ he said, ‘that what my brother suggested was not so stupid, after all. Suppose one of us did become her champion, by killing this Hereward if needs be, then would not the German Emperor think the more highly of us? Hereward will have no family to pay blood-money to; and no one need know anything of the affair. It would ill become a son of Godwine to neglect such a chance as this to put himself in favour.’

  Godwine began to laugh. ‘Please yourselves, my sons,’ he said. ‘You have never waited for my advice before - and it is late to start now. Kill Hereward if you wish, but first see that he is not too great a favourite with Gunhilda. If his death offended her, then she would turn her husband against us - and, like King Swein here, we need the Emperor’s good will at this moment.’

  King Swein was biting at his beard and twisting his fingers till the knuckles cracked. These Godwines always brought trouble! They were a plague on the peace of the world. He wished he had never promised friendship to them.

  Like a frightened hare when the dogs surround it, he turned one way and then another. At last he said, ‘For the love of God, lords, be discreet. Be sensible. And if you must kill him, then let it not happen in my house. I want none of his blood on my hearth-stone. Do it somewhere away, out in the fields perhaps - but not here. If it offended the Empress, then she might side with Magnus. Take care, I beg you.’

  Earl Swein patted the King of Denmark on the shoulder. ‘Courage, cousin, courage!’ he said, sneering. ‘A man must be willing to face the whole world - and the heavens, too - or he is no man.’

  4. King Swein’s Figs

  Gunhilda came in like a Valkyrie, her eyes blazing in her white face. Even her pale hair had fallen from its net and seemed to flame on her broad shoulders. King Swein was about to kneel before her out of courtesy, but she grasped the neck of his shirt and almost pulled him upright.

  ‘Christendom in flames!’ she said in a loud voice. ‘But I was shot at after I had come over your masch. Look at this hole in my skirt! Look at this tear in my bodice! Is this the way to greet a guest? Is it? Look you, Danishman, it is one thing for a woman to be molested in Flanders - but here I expect to be treated like the wife of your nearest neighbour, the Emperor. I expect…’

  King Swein was backing away from her anger, speechless. But Earl Godwine let out a great laugh and slapped Gunhilda on the shoulder, as though he was greeting another man.

  ‘Harthacnut’s sister!’ he roared. ‘Well, by the Rood, but your temper hasn’t mended a bit since you nearly scratched my eye out for stealing a kiss that Michaelmas!’

  Gunhilda turned on him, in the dark room, her head forward as though she would bite him. When she saw who it was she made her hand into a fist, as though she would punch him. But Earl Godwine began to shake her hand up and down.

  Bewildered, Gunhilda said, ‘What devilry are you plotting up here in Denmark? We thought there was one place in the north where we could talk in peace without having a Godwine in the room!’

  The Earl smiled grimly at the insult, but only said, ‘Two of my sons are in Normandy, and another is thinking to visit Jerusalem. If Harold here can spare the time next spring, I would like him to go down to Miklagard - I forget, you call it Constantinople, don’t you? - and make friends with whatever emperor they have there now. So, soon you’ll have to go to Iceland if you want to avoid your cousins, Gunhilda!’

  King Swein broke into the talk now and said, ‘When I go to Iceland it will be with a sword.’

  Godwine nodded towards him, smiling, and said pleasantly to Gunhilda, ‘He is still bearing malice, you see. Those Icelander earls have sided with Magnus, but they will come back to you fast enough if we show them Magnus’s head on a pole. That would be a better persuader than any clerkly words!’

  A young man who had followed Gunhilda and stood in the shadows suddenly said, ‘Give the word, lady, and I will bring you that head - and a pole to set it on.’

  All was silent then in the King’s room. They could hear the fire lapping at the spruce logs on the hearth. Godwine turned and saw Hereward leaning at the lintel, his thumbs in his belt and his big sword hanging before him between his legs.

  Earl Godwine said, ‘Since when must lords halt in their talk while a peasant’s son passes an opinion?’

  Hereward pretended to pick something from his teeth, then made the motion of spitting, very gently, in the Earl’s direction.

  King Swein gasped with astonishment. Even Gunhilda drew her breath in. ‘Hereward…’ she began.

  But Earl Harold took three paces across the room and stood before Hereward, face to face, glowering. They were of the same height and the same age, within a month or two. They could have been brothers but for the colour of their hair and the difference in their dress.

  Hereward looked back lazily into Harold’s eyes and said, ‘Godwinson, well met! They told me you were a fighting-cock. Shake hands with another Northman.’

  Hereward held out his hand quietly, gently, almost as though he knew Harold would not take it. Harold saw this; he also saw that this hand was so placed that it could draw the sword just as easily. It was then that he first realized what manner of man the Empress had chosen to protect her.

  He stepped back a pace and looked under his dark brow at the Englishman. He drew in a deep breath and said quietly, ‘Anywhere you like, but not here. No blood on King Swein’s hearthstone - that is the law. But anywhere outside his wall - and with sword or axe.’

  Hereward put his hands behind his back now, to show that he was not afraid of Harold Godwinson. Then he said for all to hear, ‘I meant no disrespect to you and yours. But I am a carle in the house of the Empress and so I have a right to be next to her and to speak for her. That is my duty and my privilege. Not even Godwine and his brave sons can take that right from me. As for fighting you, Harold Godwinson, I would not do that in the house of King Swein; but, have no doubt, I would do it anywhere else, if my lady wished it.’

  Gunhilda strode across the stone floor and stood between the young men. She put a hand on the shoulder of each and said, ‘It is a sin against manhood for two such young bulls as you to spoil each other. The world is too short of brave ones for such fighters to spill each other’s blood, even if one of them is a Godwine.’

  Earl Godwine laughed again, but more grimly this time, and said, ‘Let them be, Gunhilda. Young men will always be testing one another. It is a natural law we cannot break. Sooner or later these two will be at each other, by day or by night, to prove who has the stronger arm, the quicker eye. They both wish to be heroes, and who are we to stop them? This is beyond kings and queens and priests. It is beyond kingdoms and churches and such prattle. They are both Vikings, Gunhilda, and they will fight it out, one way or another, whatever you say.’

  Gunhilda let her hands fall and stood back, her broad face white with fury. Her very mouth was pale, and her bosom rose and fell as though she was panting after swimming across a river. She said coldly, ‘Earl Godwine, I love Hereward like my own son. I plan great things for him - lands, perhaps a crown. I set him as high as any Norman duke, as high as any English earl. Remember that. And remember, too, that my husband who is an emperor and speaks with popes as their equal will love Hereward just as I do. Let your son think of that before he goes seeking quarrels for himself. And let
him recall also that this time he may have picked up a viper - not a stingless Welsh grass-snake!’

  When she said this Earl Harold began to tear at his gold neckring, as though he was choking. His face went very red and spittle began to run out of his mouth-corners. All his limbs started to shake like those of an old beggar with the palsy. His brother, Swein, ran to him and began to speak softly, but Harold shook him off and began to cry out, using howls not words. King Swein knew the signs of berserk madness well enough and went to the door to call out for a leech to come and give Harold a potion to quieten him.

  But Earl Godwine suddenly eased himself up from the oak trestle-table and struck his son across the side of the head with the back of his hand,

  ‘Down, you mad dog!’ he cried. ‘Control yourself! Is this the time? Are you a girl, to cry for what you can’t have?’

  Once again he slapped Harold across the face, while King Swein clutched, white-knuckled, at the dragon-head of his chair, wondering why he of all men should have to tolerate such scenes in his own house.

  Gunhilda stood so close to Hereward that any sweep of the sword would now strike her also. And still Hereward’s hands were behind his back as he leaned, smiling, against the carved doorposts.

  Harold Godwinson sank down to his knees suddenly and with his gnarled hands over his face began to weep. The tears ran out between his fingers, over the great ugly ring of Wessex, and on to the grey stone floor. If any other man had done this it would have been laughable. But with Harold it was a terrible sight to see. For a moment King Swein thought that there was magic about, for the tears looked like drops of blood to him. But it was only that Harold’s hands were dirty with the red earth he had ridden through to reach Aarhus. And soon the tears were clear again and not red.

  Gunhilda whispered to Hereward, ‘In God’s name, boy, leave this room. Go down to the other carles and keep out of the way of the Godwines. You only cause trouble.’