Spear Havoc 1066

by C. R. May

  Perhaps lulled into complacency by the near hegemony of the family and the passage of time, the next flashpoint occurred in 1064. Whether by accident or design, earl Harold took ship and ended up by various means at the court of duke William, where after a summer of campaigning with the Norman leader he asked for the return of the family hostages from 1052. William agreed to release one of them to Harold, his nephew Hacon, on the understanding that he swear on holy relics to support the duke’s claim to the English crown when Edward died. Unable to see any other way out, Harold appears to have agreed and returned home with the young man who was now in his late teens, leaving behind his brother Wulfnoth who William promised to deliver up as soon as he became king.

  Soon after he returned to England, in February 1065, King Edward the Confessor died and Harold was now trapped by his vow. As earl of Wessex, a proven war leader and the eldest surviving son of Godwin, Harold was in a powerful position to stake a claim for the throne itself, but it was clear now that this would invite an invasion by the powerful Norman duchy and its allies. An assembly which became known to history as the Great Witan of Winchester was called for March 1065. This “meeting of the wise” convened to discuss not only the succession, but the English response to any belligerent moves made by William and his supporters. The Norman duke had already sent emissaries to both the witan and directly to earl Harold demanding that they honour king Edward’s settlement and their oaths of support respectively, with a thinly veiled threat that he was willing to come and take the crown himself if it was not forthcoming, and it was at this point that an unlikely champion arose.

  Tostig Godwinson’s ten year incumbency as earl of Northumbria had been only a qualified success. A southerner, he was already at a disadvantage in an earldom which prided itself in its semi independence from the rule of the kings in Winchester and London at that time. A potent mix of Angle, Dane, Norse and Briton the region had been part of England for little more than a century, and they not only hankered to be led by one of their own but resented the taxes which travelled south. Tostig had responded by riding roughshod over these sensitivities, bypassing the northern lords completely and employing Danish housecarls to collect taxes and administer his rulings. The king of Alba Malcolm Canmore was a close friend, and Tostig’s failure to deal adequately with border raids and deeper incursions led to much resentment. The earl even resorted to murdering political opponents, so it was somewhat of a surprise to many when Tostig proposed a solution which would ultimately lead to the byname by which he is known today — Peace Weaver.

  A son of the house of Cerdic — the dynasty of the West Saxons — had been brought back to the country several years before from Hungary where he had been fathered in exile by a half-brother of the Confessor. Known as Edgar the ætheling the boy was still only fourteen years old in 1065, but as a grandson of Æthelræd II unræd he had a direct and irrefutable claim to the English throne, and Tostig became the driving force behind the plan to introduce a regency to the kingdom. A similar situation existed at the time in France, where the young king Philip I had ascended the throne on the death of his father in 1060. In that case the regency was being shared between the king’s mother Anne of Kiev and Tostig’s brother-in-law Baldwin V, count of Flanders.

  Edgar was crowned in Winchester cathedral on 14 March 1065, and with the country now firmly united in its support for the new king, Tostig travelled to Flanders leaving the boy in the capable care of his brother Harold. What followed was a masterpiece of statesmanship, unrivalled in England up to that point. Eager to support his kinsman and make life as difficult as possible for his rivals in Boulogne and Normandy the count quickly recognised Edgar as king of the English, and by early summer he had used his influence as regent to persuade the French to also recognise the legitimacy of Edgar’s rule.

  By that time Tostig had moved on to Denmark, the kingdom ruled by another of his kinsmen, his great-nephew Sweyn Estridsson. Here the earl faced a more difficult task. Sweyn had not only been born in England, he had a strong claim to the crown through his mother, Estrið. This well-bred woman was a daughter of king Sweyn Forkbeard and therefore a sister of Cnut the Great, king of Denmark, England and Norway. As described above, Tostig’s father Godwin had urged king Edward to send significant military aid to the Danes in their ongoing wars with the Norwegian king Harald Hardrada on at least two occasions, and he was finally able to use the goodwill which this generated to conclude a pact of mutual assistance in June 1065: by the terms of this treaty England and Denmark agreed to regard an attack upon either kingdom as an attack upon their own. It was, we can now recognise, another small step which would lead to the permanent merging of the crowns in the following century.

  Duke William was now surrounded by what contemporaries called the Ring of Steel, and when Conan II of Brittany recognised king Edgar and his entreaties to the Pope were rebuffed that August, the pretender was forced to stop work on the construction of his invasion fleet and disperse the army.

  Could the Normans and their allies have succeeded had they launched their invasion? The methods of warfare used in the Scandinavian north and the European mainland could hardly have been more different. Large scale all-or-nothing battles, whether fought on foot or at sea were still the norm among the northern nations. William could have expected to face overwhelming numbers soon after landing on the English coast. To counteract this he would have undoubtably brought along hundreds or even thousands of workmen who would be put to work immediately constructing the type of motte and bailey castles which were used to dominate the surrounding area. Continental leaders very rarely sought open battle unless the odds were heavily stacked in their favour, the comparatively small size of their domains and the number of potential enemies within a short march of their heartlands gave little chance to recover from a heavy defeat, even if the leaders survived the rout. Earl Harold had already experienced this first-hand the year before when he had campaigned alongside the duke in Brittany. It was warfare based on mounted reconnaissance and siegecraft, and the castle building activities along the Welsh border by Normans brought in during the brief exile of the Godwin clan in 1051-52 only serve to support this. Even if the invaders could have got ashore, formed a bridgehead and constructed these fortifications, the land area of England was simply too vast for this creeping type of conquest to succeed. With the certainty that the Anglo-Danish fleet would deny the Normans any hope of reinforcement or resupply and the likelihood that his own duchy would suffer invasion from France and Brittany in his absence, even a man as obstinate as William was forced to concede that his chances of gaining the English crown were vanishingly small.

  So the succession crisis of 1065 became a footnote in history, and England remained not only a part of the Scandinavian north but the engine behind the creation of an empire which would stretch from Novgorod to the Pacific coast of Vinland. One can only speculate what would have occurred had duke William been successful in his quest. With the vast monetary and manpower wealth of the English State now orientated southwards, perhaps the Normans would have swallowed up all the petty kingdoms which now comprise the Commonwealth of France? At the very least centuries of warfare would follow as the armies fought for control of her riches. Deprived of English leadership and treasure, the Scandinavian nations might very well have remained independent but much reduced in influence. Maybe New Jorvik and even Vinland itself would have become Spanish possessions, and I should be writing these words elsewhere?

  Karl raised his head, flicking a look up at the clock on the wall. An hour — pretty much spot on: that left him ninety minutes to answer the following two questions. The sunlight had moved across the floor of the hall as he had written, and he watched in amusement as the invigilator attempted to squint at the scribblers for any sign of cheating. Ed had noticed too, and the friends exchanged a look of amusement as they went back to work.

  Afterword

  The only detail I needed to tweak to construct this alternate timeline was to move t
he death of King Edward of England back little more than a year — and it could have been even less — from January 1066 to the previous February. By doing so the greatest impediment to the unity of the English kingdom at this critical time was removed. Tostig Godwinson’s character and actions in Northumbria were as outlined above, and the North was driven to revolt. On the 3 October 1065 the Northumbrian thegns descended on York with their hearth warriors, killed Tostig’s housecarls and other officials and declared the earl an outlaw. Moving south they were confronted by Harold Godwinson who, sent by king Edward and sensing the depth of their anger, recommended that his brother be stripped of the office of earl.

  In hindsight it was the moment that the hitherto unbreakable bond between the sons of Godwin was shattered, and the kingdom was riven by division at the worst possible moment. A favourite of both the Confessor and his queen, Tostig’s sister Eadgyth, it appears that the forced banishment of his favoured earl contributed to the death of the king only three months later. With the imminent threat of invasion hanging over the kingdom, the young Edgar ætheling was passed over for the crown and the experienced warlord Harold Godwinson became king on Edward’s death; but the kingship was now the proverbial ‘poisoned chalice’ as he inherited a kingdom torn asunder by the events of the past few months.

  Tostig, instead of acting in the interests of the country as in our tale, embarked on a tour of Europe by which he sought aid in reclaiming his lost earldom and revenge for what he obviously regarded as his brother’s betrayal. It led directly to the invasion of Harald Hardrada and his Norwegians in September 1066, King Harold’s ride north and the battles at Fulford and Stamford Bridge. Harold of England was victorious in the second battle, but it was a hard fight against a formidable foe which in all likelihood cost him victory on a windy ridge outside Hastings a few weeks later.

  Everything else in our tale is historical fact, every familial relationship, event or war. It is a sobering thought that something as innocuous as moving the death of a single man, albeit a king, forward by even a few months can drastically change the world in which we live almost a thousand years later.

  8

  STRANGE CATCH!

  The sea fizzed as it passed down the flanks of the longship and fanned out in its wake. Æthelric rested a hand against the tall stern post, filling his lungs as he cast a look outboard — unlike most Englishmen who saw the watery wastes as little more than a roadway for Vikings and invading armies he loved the sea. Astern the other ships in the fleet bounded the swell, their chequered sails taut and full as the following wind drove them eastwards.

  Clearing the bone-white nib of Beachy Head, the thegn braced as the ship master heaved on the big side rudder and pointed the prow towards deeper water. The currents were treacherous around the headland, and any steersman worth his salt would do well to give them a wide berth. He had seen the skeletal frames of ships which had been driven aground and knew them for the killers of men that they were, despite their beauty.

  The Brimwulf was leading the first fifty ships ahead of the main fleet. Tonight they would sup ale in Dover burh, and on the morrow shoot the channel known as the Wantsum before continuing on up the River Thames to London.

  The thegn of Kelvedon in Essex, he was looking forward to spending the season of crop gathering and Christmas at home. A summer spent in the south while they waited for the Norman fleet to appear had been, despite the glorious weather, a monotonous round of training sessions and bouts as the thegns and housecarls strove to keep thousands of men fed and occupied. As the month of August had slipped inexorably into September the king had decided that it was too late in the year for the enemy to mount his attack. The season of storms was almost upon them, and with the supplies all but exhausted the men of the fyrd were becoming increasingly worried about the harvest. Satisfied that the threat had faded, king Harold had ordered the army stood down and was drawing his forces back from the coast.

  The helmsman spoke at his side as a tidal surge lifted the hull. ‘Do you recall the signal for the sighting of the Norman fleet, lord?’

  Dragged back from his reverie, Æthelric turned his eyes on the shipman and gave a snort. ‘I am hardly likely to forget after a summer spent staring out to sea — I have been seeing red flags in my sleep!’

  Eldred nodded, but something in his expression caused the ship thegn’s stomach to lurch. ‘Yes, lord — a red flag flown at the mast head.’ He turned his head to starboard and indicated mid channel. ‘A bit like that one, I would guess.’

  Æthelric shaded his eyes with the ledge of a hand and peered away to the south. The ship was still hull down on the horizon but the mast was in clear sight, and his mind raced as he saw the blood red signal flag clearly against the greyness of the sky beyond. Fully manned a fleet of fifty ships would have been a powerful force, but they were short handed and hardly in a position to attack the entire Norman fleet. The best warriors, the thegns and housecarls, had returned to their halls and estates throughout the shires and hundreds of southern and eastern England, leaving skeleton crews to sail the ships back to their winter quarters on the Thames, Stour, Yare and others. But they were here, the signal had been seen, and it was clear where his duty lay. ‘Steer a course to intercept,’ he said. ‘Let us see what our countrymen have to say.’

  Eldred hauled the steering oar into his chest, and as the prow of the ship began to come about Æthelric snapped out an order to a nearby crewman. ‘Repeat the signal from the mast top. Let us make sure that the rest of the fleet know why we are changing course.’

  As the vessels converged it soon became clear that the warning flag was being flown by a small fishing boat from one of the many settlements scattered along the English shore, and within the hour the fishermen were drawing alongside the sleek warship. Æthelric watched as Eldred’s crew spilled the wind from the sail, taking the way off the ship as the master of the little sailboat gripped the sheer strake and hailed them across the waves.

  ‘The Normans are out, lord!’ he yelled. ‘They are moving what must be their entire fleet north along the coast.’

  It was the news he had expected to hear, but the final confirmation had Æthelric’s heart beating a little faster as he stepped forward to pump the man for more. ‘How many ships are in the fleet? Where are they headed?’

  The fisherman snorted and puffed out his cheeks before replying. ‘That’s two very different questions, lord — one easy, the other not so much. When we saw them the leading ships were shadowing the coastline as they clawed their way north, but the tail stretched back to the estuary of the River Somme.’ He shrugged and pulled a face. ‘As to numbers there was a cloud of sail.’ He scratched at several days’ worth of stubble as he thought. ‘There could be up to a thousand I would guess, I could barely see the coastline beyond to north or south.’

  Æthelric chewed on his lower lip as he calculated the odds against him. Each of his fifty ships carried ten butsecarls, shipborne housecarls, tough, full time warriors. But the ships were sailing under half-crews, twenty per ship. All told he had roughly fifteen hundred men at his disposal, and a quick calculation based on the information supplied by the fisherman came up with the discouraging thought that they could be outnumbered by as many as forty or fifty to one. The thegn was aware that every man on both ships was staring intently as they awaited his decision, and his mind raced. They were daunting odds, and the king would not thank him if he lost a good part of his fleet in a single engagement. Tostig, the king’s brother, had already raided the coast that summer and there were rumours that he was in the northern kingdoms, trying to whip up support for further attacks. Æthelric hopped onto the steering platform, shielding his eyes against the glare of the afternoon sun as he peered westwards. More English ships had cleared the headland and were heading out to sea, but the look had told him that the fleet resembled a long ribbon of sails stretching back as far as the Wight.

  The leading ships under his command had come up and were wallowing in a crescent a
round them, riding the waves like gulls in the swell. They would prove a hefty punch if not the knockout blow which the full fleet could bring to bear, and Æthelric wrestled with his decision. With the ships short crewed it was pointless to wait for the rest of them to catch up, and even if they put in to shore to gather reinforcements the army had already dispersed, but he must act decisively or the chance may be lost. Strung out the Norman fleet would be vulnerable to a quick attack — besides they had no great reputation as seafarers, despite their Norse roots. He turned back to the helmsman. ‘Eldred, you know the coastline opposite and the tides thereabouts. Do they mean to attempt the crossing today?’

  The shipmaster’s gaze wandered across to the East as his mind pictured the far shore. Finally he gave a shake of his head. ‘It sounds like they are heading towards Cape Grey Nose, the chalk cliffs past Boulogne. They can ride at anchor there for the night and cross the Straits tomorrow without losing sight of land.’ He nodded as he warmed to the idea. ‘It makes sense, lord. A fleet like that, heavily laden and with inexperienced crews will move at walking pace. They will need a full day to cross, even with a fair wind.’

  Æthelric clapped the man on the shoulder as his words confirmed the direction of his own thoughts. Dipping a hand into the purse at his belt, he took out a pouch of silver coins and tossed it across to the delighted fisherman. ‘That is to replace your ruined catch. Sail towards the rest of our ships and tell them what you have told me. Let them know that I am heading towards the Straits and to follow on as fast as they can.’ The decision made a weight lifted from his shoulders, and the thegn threw the skipper a parting smile as the little boat eased away from the longship and its crew reset the sail. ‘I have a bigger fish to net.’