The Earl's King

by M J Porter

  Leofric shrugged his shoulders, unable to answer, and the animal quickly settled to sleep once more. He only wished to do the same.

  Time passed, so slowly Leofric wondered if by some chance he’d happened upon wood that didn’t turn to ash when it was burned, and eventually, the door in the hall creaked open, and a slim woman crept into the hall.

  Her eyes were huge in the gloom of the room, and Leofric watched her carefully. She started when she saw the king on the dais, and for a moment he wondered if she was going to flee from the hall. But instead, she stood straight, her shoulders back, and began to pick her way to the king’s side.

  Leofric doubted that she saw him in the shadowy light of the small fire, but he watched her, recognising her. She was the woman from the night before, the one the king had been fondling before everyone. And that wasn’t the first time Leofric had seen her.

  Squinting, unable to quite catch her features and fix them in his mind, as she swept past him, he heard the king hiss angrily.

  Standing before Harald, boldly, the king grabbed her roughly by the arms, shaking her. Leofric was about to rise and intervene when the woman slapped the king’s hands away and stepped out of his reach. She spoke too softly for Leofric to hear her words, but whatever they were, they had a sobering effect on the king, who bowed an apology, and indicated that she should lead on and out of the hall.

  Leofric thought it strange that this seemed to be what Harald had been waiting for as the king and the woman wound their way to the door. Without so much as a thank you or an acknowledgement that he’d kept the vigil with the king, Harald forced the door shut, and the pounding in Leofric's head finally ceased from the king’s staccato footsteps.

  Too tired to care about what was happening, Leofric rested his head on his arms in an imitation of his brother beside him. His final thought, as he descended into much-needed sleep was that he’d never known the king wait for a servant, or whore, or whatever the woman was. He needed to remember to actually find out who the woman was, and what hold she had over the king.

  When Leofric woke, later, but not too much later, his head only thudded a little. The hall was filled with men and women waking from their excesses of the night before, and considering the decisions they’d made then, before dismissing them in the light of more pressing needs, such as the need to empty bladders and gulp as much fresh water as possible.

  Not meaning to enjoy everyone else’s discomfort, but doing so all the same, Leofric kneed the ache from his neck, as his arms and hands tingled back to life.

  His brother snored on, as Leofric stood and stretched. There was no business organised with the king today, but as his family were all together, he’d arranged a family reunion. The chances for them all to be in one room at the same time were few and far between, and Leofric had decided that this was the perfect opportunity.

  No doubt all the men would be encumbered with headaches while the women watched on with haughty disdain, but that was always the way after a feast.

  Making his own way outside, Leofric discovered few were awake, but that the servants were busy at work, clearing up the remains of last night’s feast while grumbling and moaning themselves. No one had been refused ale and meat the night before, and if all had headaches, it at least meant that there’d be no shouting that day.

  Rain had fallen at some point in the night, and the smell of damp was more enticing than the hall which stank of spilt ale and bad breathe. Around his legs, his hound wove itself, only to quickly lose interest and make his way to more of his own kind. The animals, the symbol of his father’s loss of sight, had amassed, just as the entire House of Leofwine had, and now they all reacquainted themselves with birth pups and parents.

  His sister, of course, was already out and about with the hounds, her daughter assisting her. It was Ealdgyth who continued the family interest in the beasts. She’d always loved them, but it was now her role to ensure the breeding line stayed pure and none bred where they shouldn’t.

  “Good God,” Leofric muttered softly to her, as the animals nipped and whined at each other. “It’s like a bloody flock of sheep.”

  Æthelflæd, named for his mother, and his only niece, was trying to herd the animals toward the open fields at the back of their home, but for every few steps she gained, some of the hounds shot backwards, and she was becoming infuriated.

  “If it was a flock of sheep,” Æthelflæd complained, “we’d have a dog to control them.”

  “Perhaps a sheep then?” Leofric tried to tease, but either Æthelflæd didn’t hear him, or as Leofric knew only too well, was ignoring her Uncle for making such an idiotic statement.

  “There are a few of them,” his sister laughed, answering that question, at least. “Come on you daft beasties, through the gate,” she trilled, and finally, the hounds realised what she was about, and all of them shot off, in all directions, to run free amongst the ripening crops. Leofric winced at the cacophony of barks, but it was near enough midday, there would be no more sleep for anyone that day.

  “Come, brother,” his sister called to him. “I would speak with you.”

  Leofric went to his sister’s side, noting as he did so, just how much like his mother she looked. She’d inherited her mother’s all-seeing eyes, and if fine-lines crinkled around her eyes and mouth, she showed little other sign of the passage of time.

  “I’ve gossip,” she continued. “Olaf has had a visitor, someone his father once served with. Or rather, the son of someone his father once served with. From Denmark.”

  This then was gossip indeed, and Leofric was pleased to hear it.

  “Is it about Harthacnut?” he asked, just to be sure, but Ealdgyth shook her head, and then perplexed him by answering, “Maybe.”

  Knowing her as he did, he walked, allowing her to loop her arm through his, as they strolled along the dirt track that ran beside the field. In the distance, an outcropping of trees could be seen, and the hounds were making their way toward it, in a haphazard style which seemed to involve a great deal of running over the same ground more than once.

  “Tori still lives in one of the Trelleborg forts.”

  This was interesting news indeed. Leofric had thought the Trelleborg forts built by Swein to house his warriors for his invasion of England so long ago, abandoned and out of use.

  “It seems that there’s been much activity of late. New wood ordered, and repairs made to old buildings. Not that he’s had any confirmation that Harthacnut plans to reuse the fort, but to me, it seems likely.”

  “And who would his enemy be?” Leofric mused.

  “Ah, now Tori knew no details. He didn’t even come to tell us as much, it just sort of dropped into conversation, as it were.” Leofric could imagine the scene well. His sister didn’t like to be denied an opportunity to meddle.

  “And what did your husband make of that?”

  “Oh, Olaf is always keen to hear stories of Denmark. But his face showed some concern, I’ll not deny it.”

  “And was that all Tori told you?”

  “Well no, he was filled with stories of families and old battles, and of course, they drank too much and sang songs that young women shouldn’t hear, but know all the words to, thanks to her cousins.” Ealdgyth’s tone was acerbic as she eyed her pretty daughter, who’d joined their conversation with a roll of her eyes. “ But all in all, I obtained the impression that the Danes are content with their king, and pleased to have him in Denmark. I can’t imagine there’d be much support for Harthacnut to attack England, not amongst the Danes.”

  “And he rules alone?”

  “Well, no, Tori often spoke of Lady Estrid. I think she more than anything is the power behind Harthacnut. She has no official position, but obviously, she’s the daughter of Swein Forkbeard, sister of King Cnut. Men and women are going to heed her words and her advice over those of a young man with nothing to his credit, yet, but an argument with King Magnus, a youth even younger than he.”

  As she spoke, Leofri
c smirked at her less than subtle reminder that she too was a powerful and influential member of their family. While she refused to attend Court anymore, she’d been a member of Lady Emma’s close circle for many years, and Earl Eilifr was always asking for her advice within his earldom, of which Deerhurst was part. Once, his father had ruled for the king in Eilifr’s earldom. It might have been many years ago, but no one had forgotten Lady Ealdgyth, the daughter of Ealdorman Leofwine, and her Norse husband.

  “And does Lady Estrid plan to invade England?” Leofric grinned as he spoke. His sister might not like being put off when asking her own questions, but she was not the easiest to interrogate.

  “Now, Tori didn’t say that she was,” the thought had perhaps not presented itself to his sister, or she might just be humouring him, as she stretched out the sentence.

  She smiled, her face transforming into the young girl he’d once snuck his wooden shield and sword to so that she could train along with her brothers.

  “No, Lady Estrid has no interest in adding to family strife. She’d rather the brothers worked together.”

  “Then she’s delusional,” Leofric laughed, as Ealdgyth chuckled along with him.

  “Not all brothers hate each other,” she reminded him, perhaps thinking of her husband and his brothers, or even her own.

  “Yes, but it’s more often than not the case that brothers will hate each other. I believe that Earl Godwine might be just about to discover that.”

  “Did his oldest son ever return from Denmark?”

  A rumble of laughter burst from Leofric’s mouth at the reminder of that crisis. “Not yet.”

  “And your nephew wasn’t tempted by the same offer?” Leofric continued to laugh.

  “Oh he was, but I quickly explained the ‘offer’ to him, and he soon changed his mind.”

  “But tell me, in all seriousness. What do you think of Harald?”

  Leofric’s faced creased as he considered the question carefully.

  “He’s terrified of Harthacnut. It’s almost as though he doesn’t carry the strength of his own conviction that he should be king. As though he expects to have the kingdom taken from him.” Here, all humour gone from his face, Leofric turned to gaze back at his home, wondering what the king was about now.

  “He struggles to trust anyone, always expecting them to turn against him, so that he can be unsurprised when it happens. With Earl Godwine as an ally, it can never end well. That man isn’t someone to trust. Ever.”

  “And what about his relationship with you?”

  “He resents me for being honourable toward Lady Emma and for interfering in the whole fiasco surrounding Lord Alfred.”

  “The King doesn’t understand you as well as you understand him,” Ealdgyth announced quickly. “He should know that the House of Leofwine will always fulfil its obligations, no matter how distasteful they might be.”

  “Yes, but I think our father was better at it than I am,” Leofric admitted ruefully.

  “Our father, maybe, but even he overstepped the mark sometimes.” Silence fell between them. There was no point in replaying events that had gone poorly for the House of Leofwine.

  Later, when all of the family was sitting together, and much of the wreckage from the night before had been cleared from the hall, Leofric once more met his sister’s eye, as she shepherded the hounds before the fire. All of them wished to lie with their backs to the hearth, but it just wasn’t possible. Instead, Ealdgyth had them all lined up, side by side, and yet still some nipped.

  It was as unruly as a mass of small children who’d once roamed through his childhood home.

  Even Ælfgar and his wife had joined them, even though Leofric had said it wasn’t necessary. Still, it was good that they’d come.

  “I welcome you all,” Leofric said, directing everyone’s attention his way. “It’s good to be in less formal surroundings, and to see all my nephews, and my niece, in one place, at the same time. But, it does seem we might be outnumbered by more than just the Godwinessons.” As he spoke, Leofric pointed to the writhing mass of hounds and elicited a rumble of laughter from his extended family. “Let’s hope the next generation is as equally numerous as the pups.” Lady Elgiva blushed as he spoke, and both Wulfstan and Ælfwine looked anywhere but at Lady Godgifu who was sat next to their mother, Lady Mildryth, already plotting, no doubt.

  “But marriage alliances are only one way that our family gains influence,” Leofric swiftly offered, by way of an apology to his nephews, although his niece looked quite keen to consider marriage. Perhaps she’d had enough of her mother’s bossy ways, for all they seemed to get on well enough. Or maybe, she already had her eye on a likely husband. Leofric thought he must remember to tell his sister as much.

  “I thought we should discuss the state of Mercia and our influence. I’d like to know about the border with the Welsh and the Northumbrians, and of any information, we should share.”

  “I’ll begin and tell you that Harald has made some good beginnings, although he’s always fearful of Harthacnut.”

  That was hardly news, but it was somewhere to begin.

  Orkning growled at the words. “The sons of Cnut shouldn’t argue. There’s more than enough for them to share. I always assumed that was what Cnut wanted.”

  “Then he shouldn’t have left England for Harthacnut in his will,” Lady Godgifu snapped tightly, her usual response to talk of politics, and any perceived slight against Lady Ælfgifu.

  “No, he probably shouldn’t,” Leofric admitted. “But then, Harthacnut has made no overtures to the English. None at all. It’s been nearly two years since his father’s death. I’m sure he could have sent word, if only a message, or perhaps one of his cousins if he wished to activate his claim to England.”

  Eadwine scowled at the words.

  “Harthacnut remembers nothing of England or the English. He’s become used to ruling as he sees fit, without the need to consult his nobility. If he ever comes to England, he’ll not appreciate the power of the Witan.”

  “No, or his half-brother.”

  “Or his mother,” Godwine Leofwinesson announced, unheeding of the shocked look both Lady Godgifu and Lady Elgiva directed his way. Not that it wasn’t the truth.

  “But enough of bloody Harald. It’s the Welsh who test us.” Eadwine had returned to his favourite complaint, as Leofric had hoped he would. There had been rumblings on the border for some years now.

  “Who?” Leofric asked. As Sheriff of Shropshire, Eadwine had to contend both with men and women who’d once been loyal to Eadric Streona and also the kings of Powys and Gwynedd.”

  “This Gruffydd character. He’s claiming Powys for himself but has a claim to Gwynedd as well, and no problem with blades levelled at his throat if others disagree with him. I almost think he wants a war.” Eadwine’s querulous words worried Leofric. While the king had his gaze firmly on Denmark and Norway, there were other enemies at the back door, or so it seemed to him.

  “Any problems from the kingdom of the Scots?” Ælfgar thought to ask into the sudden silence occasioned by Eadwine’s pronouncement. He was holding his wife’s hand tightly within his own, a small smile on his lips, and yet his thoughts were clearly on England.

  “Donnchaid Mac Crinain has his own problems to contend with,” Eadwine grumbled. “Anyway, Earl Siward should contain any problems there. Mercian eyes must remain on Gruffydd ap Llywelyn. He’ll cause difficulties. There’s no denying that. We have to be alert and ready to act when the time comes. We certainly can’t rely on the King of Gwynedd to stop him. I believe even his own men would turn on him if they thought they could.”

  “The king must be made aware,” Eadwine continued.

  “The king knows all but thinks nothing of it. It’s Denmark and Harthacnut he would happily cut down.”

  “Then we must ensure Earl Hrani is ready to defend what he holds, and Earl Eilifr. If they don’t, England will be a good deal thinner once Gruffydd has accomplished what he wants in
Gwynedd.” Eadwine was truly riled, and Leofric raised an eyebrow at him in surprise.

  “You truly believe the threat is that great?”

  “Yes, I do. It’s been many years since the Welsh kingdoms were a true threat. People have grown blasé on the borderlands. These sporadic raids, always successful as our own people never think to fight back until it’s too late, will become something far worse if allowed unopposed.”

  “We must lead the way,” Godwine Leofwinesson commented with some heat, joining his brother in the complaint. “We must invest our own funds into our warriors, instead of churches and shrines, that do no one but the dead good. That way, the lesser nobility will consider their own security as well.”

  “And will you ride the borders after the harvest?” Leofric demanded to know of Eadwine, already realising that there would be no peace from Eadwine, let alone the Welsh unless allowed to do so.

  “Yes, Thurkill, Ælfgeat, Leofgar, Eadbald and myself have already determined we’ll ensure the border is reinforced. A show of force. A check to ensure that the ancient dyke remains usable. I hope that’ll be enough to put Gruffydd off, but I don’t see it. I think the King of Gwynedd would be remiss if he dismissed the threat posed by Gruffydd.”

  “I’ll send fifteen of the household troop to escort you,” Leofric decided. “Better if the men have some sight of the contentious area first.”

  “I’ll lead them,” Orkning interjected, and Leofric nodded his agreement, mindful that his two nephews were shooting pleading glances his way, and that likewise, Lady Mildryth was glaring at him. He was pleased that it was Orkning who’d have to contend with the pleading of his own son.

  “Ælfwine, escort your mother to Shropshire. I know we don’t mention your Uncle, Lady Mildryth, but there are still many who respect you because of who he was. It would be good if you could speak with as many of them as possible, see if they’ll follow Eadwine’s lead. Remind them that your sons carry Eadric’s blood as well as that of the House of Leofwine.”