Northman Part 2

by M J Porter

  “But none of it is stable,” Leofwine complained.

  “It’s more stable than it has been in the past, and stability is something to work towards, not against. Our family will not be cast from their position by the will of the king, or the deceit of the other ealdormen. Look at you. You’re still here for all that Eadric detests you, and he is so close to the king, I’m amazed they don’t shit together.”

  Leofwine barked with laughter at the unflattering image and reached out to grab his son’s shoulder in a tight hold.

  “You have the wit of my father, something I fear I’ve always lacked, but it makes you easy to approach. Remember that. And now, we must devise our family rift so that you can go on your way to the coast to meet Eadric and the returning king.”

  Northman immediately lost his good humour at the reminder of the charade they needed to implement to make their plan work. He didn’t like it when men thought that he and his father were enemies. He didn’t like to hear men sidle up to him with whispered comments about his father’s alleged failings. This part of the whole set up was the element that would upset the most.

  Chapter 6

  AD1014

  Northman

  Sandwich

  He glanced out to sea for about the hundredth time that day while shaking his head at his impatience. He was hoping for a glimpse of the ships that would bring Æthelred back to the land of his birth but as of yet, and despite two days of relatively calm weather, he’d not yet arrived.

  Northman was unsure whether he should send men out to determine if he’d perhaps come ashore somewhere further round the coast, but he hadn’t bothered. He knew Æthelred would arrive here. It was symbolic of the place where his bride had first come to England from Normandy, and Æthelred, grown a little pedantic in his old age, would have had the same thought that Northman’s father had when he’d told Northman where to come.

  Still, the wait was interminable.

  He wanted to get the charade of returning to Eadric’s side underway, was impatient to do so before he changed his mind and scuttled home. He’d even made the decision on two previous occasions to do just that but had managed to talk himself back round to his initial plans. He didn’t trust Æthelred and he sure as hell didn’t trust Eadric. He needed to be there to greet both the king and Eadric before any other could insinuate themselves into their confidences.

  Not that there were many vying for the honour of meeting their king. He’d expected all and sundry to come and gather to meet Æthelred, but there were only a handful of other men and women waiting as anxiously as he was, and other than the king’s older son, Athelstan, none were likely to upset his plans.

  Athelstan, when Northman had met him two days before on the road to the port, had greeted him with enthusiasm and some reserve, and Northman couldn’t blame him. They’d been friends when Thorkell had first raided Oxford, but since then things had become mangled and twisted as Northman had tried to stick close to Eadric, no matter how outrageous his behaviour. Athelstan was more than likely unsure what Northman now planned to do.

  “You must be pleased your father is returning, and you’re restored as his heir,” Northman asked quietly as they rode together through the early evening chill.

  “I’m pleased he’s to return, yes, but that doesn’t detract from the fact that he left without any of his older children. He sent Emma and his young children away and thought nothing of the rest of us.” Northman could hear the bitterness in the once proud man’s voice, and he felt pity for him. Æthelred was not a father to be proud of, and that would be difficult for Northman to accept. His father had always been a man to admire.

  “But you didn’t come under attack from Swein and his men?” Northman asked, hoping to find out Athelstan’s real thoughts on Swein’s brief kingship.

  “No, we were left undisturbed on our estates, all of us, but I did receive a messenger from Swein that promised me death if I tried to rise in the name of my father.”

  Northman shuddered at the news. His father hadn’t mentioned any such messenger, and he doubted that he’d known about it.

  “So you did as you were bid?”

  A mocking laugh erupted from Athelstan.

  “No, of course, I didn’t, and neither did Edmund. We spent the whole two months of the Danish rule plotting ways to overthrow Swein. We decided that Cnut needed to be killed and then we might stand a chance of getting rid of Swein.”

  Northman nodded thoughtfully as he listened. He’d have done the same in their position.

  “Did you gain many supporters?” he pressed on, wondering if he and his father should have thought of this and perhaps sent Leofric to represent their interests with the reinstated king’s older sons.

  “Yes and no, all at the same time. It was difficult with the bad weather to communicate with the men we needed to. We didn’t want to risk sending anyone into London itself to speak to your father and the other ealdormen. But we had our troops, and some of the bishops came to us to pledge their support as well. Apparently, a usurper king on the throne goes against God’s wishes.”

  “Wulfstan?” he offered and Athelstan nodded. Northman thought about the implications of the news.

  “And you know that you have the support of my father and myself?”

  “I know you support Eadric and that your father is a close ally of Swein. More than that, I couldn’t say.”

  Northman detected a hint of anger in Athelstan’s voice and wished he had his father’s skills with words.

  “The relationship between Swein and my father has been a strange one for the last few years. Many forget that it’s at Swein’s hand that he lost the use of his one eye and suffered his injuries that cause him to limp more often than not. Many also forget that my father had to live with a death threat hanging over him throughout my youth.”

  Abruptly, Athelstan reined his horse in, a strange expression on his face.

  “Your father has always been a man of honour, you’re right, I shouldn’t forget that. But, he always works for the good of the people of our land and not always for the good of the king.”

  Northman chuckled at that,

  “You forget that the king himself often doesn’t work for the good of the people of England.”

  Northman held his hand up to stay Athelstan’s heated response.

  “I don’t deny that Æthelred has had to face one of the toughest challenges given to our king’s during recent years, but you can’t deny that he’s not very good at it. Can you?”

  Northman asked the question sincerely and watched with interest as emotions floated over Athelstan’s face. He looked aged, worn and tired since Northman had last seen him. Northman also detected something else. A certain resignation that he’d not witnessed before.

  With a huff of air Athelstan began to speak.

  “My father, sadly, is not the stuff that legends are made of. He’s no Alfred or Edward, and certainly no Athelstan to take the battle right to the heart of the problem. For all that the blood of the West Saxon king’s runs deeply through his veins, he is, to say the least, out of his depths when it comes to dealing with catastrophic events.”

  Northman was relieved to hear the admission. He’d never thought that Athelstan was blind to his father’s weaknesses. But just for a moment, he’d wondered if Athelstan had forgotten the way that the country and its defenders had almost folded in relief when Swein claimed the English land.

  “Not that I would necessarily have acted any differently,” Athelstan qualified, and Northman laughed out loud at that, amazed to hear Athelstan say something so outrageous.

  Athelstan raised his eyebrows quizzically at the strange reaction to his words. Northman stopped laughing for long enough to say.

  “Athelstan, you’re a man who understands your people, understands the need to be a fair ruler, and treats your loyal supporters as they should be. The people, the ealdormen and thegns admire and respect you. They would do as you ask, not like your father. King Æthelred
didn’t fail because his plans were ineffectual. He failed because no one respected him.”

  Athelstan took the time to consider what he was hearing and then a small tight smile formed on his lips.

  “My thanks for that, Northman,” he said, as though he’d never considered it or realised it for himself.

  “The reason people didn’t come to your side was that Swein had everyone locked up tight inside London throughout the bad weather. He was busy doling out rewards and grants to anyone who’d listen to him, buying their support now that he’d won by military might. It’s not because no one wanted to, but, and this is important to realise, and the thing that drives my father and probably the other ealdormen as well, we don’t want a war amongst men who want to call themselves king. The land needs peace, and if Swein could have provided that then the people were happy to receive it.”

  “If Æthelred is to govern wisely and earn respect as king he needs to realise that, govern strongly, get rid of men like bloody Eadric and use those who have the skills that he lacks, like you and Uhtred and your other brothers.”

  “My father never governs wisely.”

  “I know,” Northman exhaled in disgust, “and that’s why I’m come to infiltrate Eadric once more.”

  “Your father sent you?” Athelstan asked with interest.

  “No I sent myself, and I’m a bloody fool for doing so, but I must do what needs to be done.”

  “But Eadric knows that you and your father were reconciled.”

  “Yes he does, but never fear, we’ve publicly un-reconciled again, and hopefully, Eadric will hear the news and gather me to his side as he always does.”

  “Then I shouldn’t say anything that would alert him to your spying on his activities?”

  “No, if you wouldn’t mind, it would make my life far easier. But never forget, I work for the good of the people and the good of the king, and not for Eadric.”

  “But your wife and children?” Athelstan pressed.

  “Will have to wait for me, and play the part as well as I do,” Northman offered impassively, although his heart sped up a little at the danger he might have placed his family in.

  “They’ll stay with your mother?”

  “For now, and as long as we can manage it. But, Mildryth is not unwelcome in Eadric’s home. Edith enjoys her company far more than she does her husband’s.”

  Athelstan laughed with real warmth this time.

  “My sister is a stubborn woman, and one I wish hadn’t been handed out as some reward to that bastard, but I hope she has some happiness.”

  “She does now that the old man is dead. She’s finally queen of Eadric’s home, and so, the longer we keep him away from her, the better it will be for everyone.”

  Athelstan nodded as he thought.

  “I’ve never met my nephews,” he said a little wistfully.

  “Then you should visit her. If Æthelred and Eadric are as close as they used to be, it wouldn’t be unreasonable for you to visit her.”

  “I think you’re right. We’ll get this over and done with, and I’ll make some peace with my father and then yes, I’ll visit her and meet my nephews. It would be good to see the Borderlands again.”

  And now, two days later, Athelstan still waited with Northman for the elusive king and his favoured ealdorman to reappear. The men, who fished the seas and travelled to the lands across the sea, had assured them that it was unseasonably mild, and it was fine to cross the narrow stretch of sea, but still, there was no sighting of the ships and Northman was growing restive at the delay.

  At his side, Olaf nudged his horse closer to his own.

  “He’ll come soon. He has to. Otherwise, Cnut will attack.”

  Northman grinned at his friend’s plaintive statement.

  “You can’t wish him back you know. He’ll come when he’d good and ready.”

  “I still think that Athelstan should have been made king instead of Æthelred being invited back.”

  This was an argument they’d been having on and off over the last two weeks, and one that Northman refused to be drawn on.

  “Look at him, even here he looks more kingly than his father ever has.”

  Northman couldn’t deny the truth of his friend’s words. Athelstan did look glorious in his royal clothing, his hair hanging neatly down his back, his beard and moustache trimmed and his fur cloak fringed with the finest and softest fur that Northman had ever seen. And people were flocking to his side. Northman thought that almost every person from the small port must have come to speak to Athelstan, and not once had he grown tired of their concerns, as small as many of them were. Instead, he listened, and he promised to look into each and every matter, and his party of followers and warriors alike had been kept busy ferreting out the truth of each and every claim and counterclaim.

  A cry from down by the dockside swept Northman from his introspective thoughts, and he sighed deeply. In the distance, a small collection of ships could just be seen on the horizon. This was it. Æthelred was coming home to reclaim his throne. Northman braced himself for what was to come. This was not going to be easy or particularly pleasant.

  Chapter 7

  AD1014

  Northman

  Sandwich

  The ships had landed, their precious cargo had been offloaded, and Æthelred, a smile of joy on his face, had greeted his oldest son with open arms, while everyone else tried to ignore the deep scowl that marred Eadric’s face. He’d obviously been hoping to escort Æthelred all the way to London without the aid of any of his sons or his other ealdormen and their warriors.

  Northman could have smiled with delight at Eadric’s unhappiness if he hadn’t had to make his peace with the man.

  Clear from the wooden planks that the ships now nestled against, Æthelred had been lead to the most magnificent hall in the port, and he was being offered food and drink as men and women milled around at having someone as important as the king amongst them. Northman used the commotion as a cover to approach Eadric, confident that he’d regain his support but wishing with every breath that he didn’t need to.

  “Eadric,” he began, noticing that Eadric was dressed almost as finely as Athelstan, although his face bore the signs of a strong wind on the crossing, and his hair was wild and tangled.

  “Northman,” Eadric deigned to acknowledge him, and Northman suppressed a sigh at how their conversation was clearly going to go.

  “The king was pleased to see you?” he asked, not looking at Eadric but standing beside him and speaking in almost a whisper.

  “Of course he was, and why wouldn’t he be. He couldn’t have imagined this outcome. He told me he couldn’t believe the words I spoke when I bent my knee before him and claimed him as my king. Emma wept at the news.”

  Eadric couldn’t keep the smugness from his voice, and Northman shot a quick glance at him, noticing his self-satisfied smirk.

  “I only wish I’d been able to come with you,” he managed to choke around the anger in his thoughts.

  “I’m sure you do. Come to spy on me for your father?” Eadric shot at him and Northman refrained from an irate reply. He’d not expected Eadric to not question him about his loyalty.

  “My father is an arse, and his loyalties are divided and incorrect. He should not have allowed his past with Swein to sour his loyalty to Æthelred.”

  Now Eadric looked a little intrigued, his stance a little less guarded.

  “You and your father have argued again?” he pressed.

  “We agree about nothing,” Northman said forcefully. “He doesn’t see that the future of the land lies with Æthelred, not with Swein and his by-blows.”

  “But Cnut is gone,” Eadric qualified.

  “No, he is still at Gainsborough and who knows for how long, and I’ll not stand by while my father bedevils himself to make Cnut our king.”

  “Is that what he says?”

  “Not outright, never outright, but I think he likes Cnut more than he does me.” Northm
an managed to add just the right amount of bitterness to his voice to elicit a bark of laughter from Eadric.

  “Men and their sons rarely agree about anything,” he said, and Northman nodded as he watched the king relax within the great hall.

  “Especially not the king and his sons.”

  “Not his older sons, no. His younger sons, yes. Now there is more accord there than discord.”

  “Are you saying that my father would get on better if he were to marry again and have more children?”

  “No, my boy, I’d never say that. Your father is stiff as a board and has not an ounce of emotion within him. I’m amazed you’ve tolerated him for as long as you have. You’re ruled by your passion, as your marriage to my niece shows.”

  Northman didn’t like the direction the conversation was heading in but knew that Eadric would have to think of some way to resolve the seeming differences between the father and the son. More than likely he ascribed Northman’s polar opposite to his father as something he’d forced, and in a way he was right. He had forced it, but only with Northman’s blessing. He knew what he was doing when he supported Eadric in his duplicitous actions.

  “Well your niece was a temptress,” he jokingly laughed, and Eadric went along with him, almost as if the events of the last six months hadn’t happened. And that was it. Eadric was self-obsessed enough to think that was all it took to rip a family apart. Northman wondered how he managed to delude himself, and then he shrugged the thought aside deciding he should just be grateful that he was as easy to manipulate.

  Before them, the king was enduring an uncomfortable conversation with his eldest son. While he’d pretended joy at seeing him waiting for him on the side of the wooden dock, it now appeared as though things were a little more strained.

  “The king is angry with his older sons for not running Swein out of England.” Northman spluttered at Eadric’s bland remark and glanced between the king and Eadric.