The Earl's King

by M J Porter

  “Are you aware that England is now ruled by King Harald.”

  “I am aware, My Lord, of Lady Emma’s exile, but only because I met a trader from Bruges who shared the news with me. Lady Estrid was unaware when she sent me to you.”

  Leofric held his tongue. That information was both good and bad.

  “And do you return to Ribe now?” Leofric thought to ask.

  “No, My Lord. My ship and its crew are heading for warmer climes. We trade in wines and spices, not furs and fish, and occasionally, a little bit of intrigue.” Sigtrid winked as he spoke. Clearly, he enjoyed the intrigue more than the actual trading.

  “Then I have no way of sending a reply to Lady Estrid?”

  “Ah My Lord, she told me that no reply was necessary. She merely wished to be remembered to you.” Sigtrid sounded contrite, but it didn’t quite ring true. Perhaps Sigtrid was pleased to be heading away from the problems of England and Denmark.

  Leofric nodded at that.

  “Then you have my greatest thanks, and should you return to Denmark soon, please thank Lady Estrid for her small gift.”

  The trader smiled now, yellow teeth flashing between his bright red lips, raw from being so long on the sea.

  “I will, My Lord. She’s a beautiful woman. I would happily seek her out and speak with her once more.”

  At that, Leofric pressed yet more silver coins into the hand of a stranger, aware of the irony that the coins bore the likeness of Harald. Leofric watched the man skip his way back toward his ship, his arms flailing around him as he no doubt issued instructions that were largely ignored over the clamour of the ship-men busy at their work.

  The Thames was still running high, and he thought the ship and its crew would probably be stranded for a day or two. Plenty of time to find the man should he have more questions for him.

  Shaking with the cold, Leofric called his nephew and men back to him.

  “A strange day,” he offered as an explanation and then indicated that they should return to the palace.

  He’d learned much and little, and the vellum needed to be read. As to what to do about the Danes and Harthacnut? It seemed that they still knew nothing. It would make the king challenging to manage.

  Yet, before he made his way to the king’s hall, Leofric returned to his own chambers, the vellum pressing to be read out of the wind.

  Ælfwine and Godwulf, on his instructions, returned to the king’s hall, so that Ælfwine could inform the king that the ship from Ribe had sailed many months before. Any news it carried was out of date. Ælfwine was also tasked to listen to what Earl Godwine’s sons reported, while Leofric read his letter from Lady Emma.

  Cracking the familiar seal on the wax, the queen refusing to give up her status, despite the deaths of not one but two husbands, he rolled the short letter out, pleased to see that it had been kept from water damage. The words of the scribe were clear to see.

  It was a letter that said very little, other than to inform him that Emma had been welcomed by Count Baldwin and that she’d settled well to life as an exile. She asked him to deal with some small matters that must have slipped her attention when she left England, and finished only with the words, ‘until we meet again.’

  They were his words to her, when she’d left Exeter, repeated back to him.

  He wondered if they held the meaning from her that he’d meant when he spoke them?

  Leofric scrunched the vellum tightly. If the king saw him with it, no doubt he’d accuse Leofric of some treason, but it wasn’t. In fact, if Lady Emma hadn’t ended the letter with ‘until we meet again,’ Leofric would have kept it. As it was, he knew the vellum needed destroying.

  Taking an edge to the candle he’d lit to read his message, he watched the vellum flare and burn to nothing but a handful of ash. Crumbling it between his fingers as he walked back to the king’s hall, Leofric considered what should be done now.

  There was still too little information to make any decision, and yet he knew that would not satisfy the king. Harald would want to know that his mother’s warning was being taken seriously and that he could count on the support of his leading earls in protecting England. The only problem was, neither Leofric nor Earl Godwine had the least interest in going to war against Harthacnut. Neither would Harald’s other earls.

  Cursing softly, the door swung open on the great hall, and Leofric was greeted with a heated argument that swept passed him as he took in the sight of Harald and Lady Ælfgifu, arguing forcefully with Earl Godwine while Godwine’s sons watched on, as Leofric’s own nephew, stood, uncertain of what to do next.

  Chapter Six

  AD1037 London Leofric

  Sighing deeply, before straightening his tunic, Leofric walked straight into the argument. Only for his nephew to shake his head, just slightly, and indicate he should say nothing.

  Intrigued, Leofric did as suggested, and listened. What he heard was surprising.

  Obviously, he’d been expecting the argument to be about Lady Ælfgifu’s words of doom, and the fact that despite their best intentions, as of yet, there was nothing to corroborate what she was saying.

  However, it seemed that he was the cause of the argument.

  “My Lord Leofric,” the king faced him with anger writ in his furrowed eyebrows. “Earl Godwine informs me you were met by a number of individuals on the quayside. He imagines you know far more than you let on about Harthacnut’s plans.”

  Surprised, and dismayed by the insinuations the king and Earl Godwine were making, Leofric shook his head.

  “In all honesty, My Lord King, I’m as surprised as you to have been sought by two different men on the quayside.” When faced with his foster-son’s fury, Leofric thought it best to be honest. After all, he knew nothing and hadn’t actually been compromised in anyway that could be deemed treasonous. No matter what Earl Godwine was trying to imply. Only moments ago, they’d been allied against the king and his desire for war. It seemed Earl Godwine was a quick thinker, keen to take advantage of any potential opportunity that came his way.

  “I was gifted this by Lady Estrid, your aunt.” As he spoke, Leofric stepped forward and revealed the whale bone carving to all. The king refused to touch it, and so Leofric set it down, where the double-headed eagle wobbled a little, and then settled, the piece beautifully balanced, as well as life-like.

  In the light of the king’s candles, it looked even more menacing than on the quayside, but was clearly merely an attempt at forming Leofric’s well-known family emblem.

  “Why would she send you this?” Harald demanded to know, pointing at it. He’d never met Lady Estrid, but of course, knew who she was. After all, she was his aunt.

  “She once helped me, when I was in Denmark, searching for a missing man. But I confess, it’s been many years since we had any contact.”

  “And the message that came with this eagle?” Harald demanded to know, holding out his hand as though Leofric would hand him a vellum.

  “Spoken only, My Lord King. Just a jolt to remind me of our past friendship. The ship sailed many months ago. The man I spoke to, Sigtrid, had no new information, and says he sails South and doesn’t know when he’ll return to Denmark. He was a trader, nothing more. He goes to buy wines and spices in the warmer climates.”

  “A strange thing to do,” the king complained, but Lady Ælfgifu had picked the piece up and was marvelling at it.

  “I met Lady Estrid,” Lady Ælfgifu said, sadness in her voice, perhaps at remembering those circumstances stemmed from her oldest son’s death on the way back from their disasterous rule of Norway. “She’s a collector of such items as these. I saw some of them. I thought they were pieces from a game but clearly not.”

  But Harald would not be distracted by his mother’s ramblings.

  “What do you think she wanted?” Harald demanded to know, while Earl Godwine looked enviously at the intricate statue.

  “I think she wanted to remind me of our shared friendship. Remember, My Lord King, s
he’s your Aunt, just as much as she’s Harthacnut’s, and she has two sons who will need good positions when they’re a little older. I imagine she’s thinking only of her brother when she sends me this. She knows I was an ally of his.”

  “Unlikely. Lady Estrid is a calculating strategist,” Earl Godwine interjected, perhaps worrying that the king would allow the matter to settle before he could make more of it.

  “Ah, then you have met Lady Estrid as well, and know of her?” at this, the king’s eyes flared at Earl Godwine. Their alliance was still uneasy. It was almost as though Harald strove to find fault with the older statesman.

  “I met her many times when I was in Denmark, and of course, she was married to my wife’s brother. As you know, My Lord King.”

  Leofric was surprised when no one remarked on Earl Ulfr’s assassination for treason against the Danish royal family. But equally decided he was not the one to mention it. Maybe no one spoke of Earl Ulfr.

  “So do you, Earl Godwine, have a token from the ship from Ribe?”

  Until now, Leofric hadn’t considered the possibility, but realised it made sense.

  “Of course not, My Lord King. I’ve nothing from Lady Estrid,” yet Earl Godwine’s denial hung empty in the air. Leofric thought Earl Godwine had probably received something from the ship, perhaps that was why his son had been so keen to make the first contact with it. It was clear the king thought that same.

  “And this other man. What did he tell you?” the king it seemed would not be deviated from his interrogation of Leofric, despite Godwine’s denial hanging so thinly in the air.

  “Word from Lady Emma that she’s with Count Baldwin in Bruges. Nothing else. I confess, I did ask to be informed of her safe arrival. I thought it best to know where she was.” Leofric didn’t like the lie that tumbled from his lips, but it was only a small matter.

  “So nothing then,” King Harald, complained, throwing his hand in the air in frustration.

  “You meet two enemies, and you learn nothing of events in Denmark.”

  “My Lord King, the season is yet too young. I don’t see how anyone could know of events in Denmark. Even the ship’s captains are calling all who sail mad bastards. And of course, Lady Estrid is not your enemy, but your aunt,” Leofric argued the point, not a little infuriated by the king’s demand for information it was impossible to give him. Not yet. “We must be patient,” Leofric tried to counsel, but it seemed King Harald had heard enough.

  “I give you five days. Bring me news that there’s to be no attack, or I’ll call a Witan and demand to take action against Harthacnut. I’ll not be seen as a man who fails because he’s too scared of taking the wrong action. I’m the king here.” Harald’s voice was loud, filled with his own sense of rightfulness.

  Leofric bowed his head at the king’s words, realising that in five days time, they’d have the same argument that they’d just had. His foster-son was not to be swayed from his desire to arm England against a probable fictitious attack.

  His words spoken, the king called for more wine, and resumed his conversation with his mother. Leofric retreated to the comfort of a bench close to the hearth, and beckoned for his nephew to join him. He came, swiping his cloak from his shoulders in the sudden warmth of the room. While Ælfwine scowled at Earl Godwine’s sons, Leofric called for ale for himself, and something warm to eat.

  “What can be done,” Ælfwine demanded to know, his voice little more than a whisper but filled with fury all the same. He was never going to be complimentary of Earl Godwine’s sons, and would always be unimpressed by their words. It made Ælfwine more vulnerable than Ælfgar, but, Leofric wouldn’t banish him from Court. In time, he might make a name for himself as more than the son of a traitor. Leofric hoped so.

  “We must do as the king says.” Leofric cautioned him, hoping Ælfwine spoke of the news of war, and not of Earl Godwine’s insinuations.

  “But we’ll go to war, when Denmark is not going to war with us.” Ælfwine hissed his response, and Leofric nodded. Just once, in agreement.

  “Can we produce information that proves the king’s mother is wrong in the next five days? I doubt it.”

  “Not from England we can’t,” Ælfwine spoke with a gleam in his eye, and Leofric narrowed his eyes.

  “Explain.”

  “I could go to Ribe. Find out the truth, and if we’re lucky, be back in time.”

  “No one is leaving the quayside?” Leofric argued, the words already out of his mouth before his nephew could say anymore.

  “That’s what nearly all of the ships told us, but there was one ship’s captain who would go, for the right coin?”

  “And did the captain tell you what the right amount of coin was?” Leofric was beginning to think that Ælfwine had been teased by this particular captain.

  “Twenty silver coins, with King Harald’s likeness, to get me to Ribe,” the younger man continued staunchly. The sum was huge for a ship’s captain, but, no doubt aware of who Ælfwine was, it wasn’t an amount that Leofric couldn’t afford to pay.

  “And how many to get back?” Leofric asked, straight-faced.

  “What?” Beside him, Godwulf’s face held a smirk, as did the other member of Leofric’s household troop.

  “Well, if it was twenty to get there, how many was it to get back?”

  Ælfwine looked from his Uncle to Godwulf, and moaned.

  “The bloody bastard,” he complained, his voice a whine, while the others dissolved into laughter.

  “The bloody, bloody bastard,” Ælfwine continued to complain, the hint of a smile toying with his lips, as he shook his head in annoyance at his own gullibility.

  “These men spend their lives at sea. They’ll promise anything to anyone foolhardy enough to agree to it.”

  Still, Ælfwine shook his head and complained whereas Leofric was watching Earl Godwine, and his sons.

  Shaking his head, Leofric touched Ælfwine on the shoulder, and looked toward the other earl. It was evident that coin was exchanging hand between the other earl and one of his sons.

  “It looks like you weren’t the only one the ship’s captain made the offer to.” As Leofric spoke, Sweyn Godwinesson jumped to his feet, and with a haughty glare at his younger brother, sitting beside his father, made his way to the door of the hall.

  “The bloody bastard,” Ælfwine said once more, but now there was humour in his own voice. “Should we tell him?” Ælfwine thought to ask, and while Leofric was entertaining the same thought, he shook his head.

  “No, I’m sure Sweyn has relatives in Denmark who’ll aid him to get back to England.”

  “But what if Sweyn finds out what’s happening in Denmark?” Ælfwine pressed, but Leofric grunted his denial.

  “He won’t. Don’t fret. No one else is leaving the harbour for another seven days or so. It’s too damn dangerous, and if this ship’s captain takes the risk, it’ll take Sweyn days to recover, should he make it to Ribe. And anyway, I’ve thought of a solution to our problem.” This perked Ælfwine up, and distracted him from the problem of Sweyn. Leofric was also pleased. It gave Ælfwine something to focus on, and it would be much easier for his nephew to ride to Northampton and find out the truth of the matter from Ælfgar than it would be to get to Denmark and back in the same time.

  Still, as Leofric dispatched Ælfwine to Northampton, a small smile continued to play around his lips at what the ship’s captain had in store for Sweyn Godwinesson.

  Not that he had to wait long for his nephew to return. Rather he came back rather too quickly for his liking, Ælfgar with him.

  His son, Wulfstan and Otryggr, had been in Northampton, negotiating for Ælfgar’s bride, or rather, Lady Godgifu had been doing the negotiating. No doubt his son had merely been watching, and hoping that his mother’s demands weren’t too outrageous.

  Luckily, Leofric happened upon the group before they arrived within the king’s gated palace. Hastily, he had Ælfgar dismount, and led him away from the palace, and the p
rying eyes of Earl Godwine.

  His son, always aware to intrigue, followed his father without argument, and Leofric was pleased.

  Once out of sight of all who might pass into the king’s palace, Leofric turned to his son.

  “Did you see this messanger that Lady Ælfgifu received?”

  “No, father, I didn’t. I was away from her home at the time, riding. Why? Is there a problem?”

  “Yes, and no. Did your mother meet with the messenger?”

  Leofric turned to his companions, a question on his face.

  “Did any of you see Lady Ælfgifu and the messenger?” he asked quickly, an inkling of what his father might ask him to do next already percolating through his mind.

  “I believe so,” Otryggr said, his face creased as he tried to decide whether she had or not. “Yes, yes,” he announced, “I saw her speak with the man, as did Lady Ælfgifu. Lady Ælfgifu rewarded him with food and drink, quite a bit of drink,” Otryggr continued, a sly tilt to his mouth.

  Leofric smiled at Otryggr.

  “I think you know what must be done,” Leofric commented, and Ælfgar nodded.

  “Bring the man to London?”

  “Yes, that’s what Lady Ælfgifu should have done. That way lies the possibility of refuting the words of Lady Ælfgifu without accusing her of blatant lying.”

  Ælfgar’s mouth opened in an ‘O’ of surprise.

  “You thought the same then?” Ælfgar asked of his father, and Leofric nodded.

  “Yes, the men have scoured the quayside, and there’s no news, other than from Lady Estrid and Lady Emma. Mind, I’ll admit that the ship from Ribe sailed some time ago. I suppose events could have moved on, but I’m not sure such a decision could have been taken, and widely spread, so quickly.”

  Ælfgar nodded in agreement.

  “Come then. Who wishes to rush back to Northampton with me?”

  “Has your Lady Mother stayed in Northampton?” Leofric asked his son.

  “Yes, she and Lady Ealdgyth were still busy negotiating.”