Northman Part 2

by M J Porter

“And I take it that you’ve not spoken out on Athelstan’s behalf?”

  “God no, the king is infatuated with his young sons, Edward and Alfred. He has no need for the older boys. He said as much himself when I arrived in Normandy. Athelstan would do better to ally himself with Cnut than with his father. He’d stand more chance of getting the throne that way.”

  “So why is the king speaking to him now?”

  “I think he’s been caught a little by surprise. I might have mentioned that Athelstan was doing little to welcome his father home and that he’d probably not see him anytime soon. Annoyingly, as he’s here, the King either has to trust me and what I’ve said, or distrust his son, and it seems as though it’s easier for him to doubt his son than it is to distrust me.”

  Northman managed not to shake his head in disgust at the king’s single-mindedness, but it was a hard-won battle. He couldn’t understand, even after his arguments with his father, why the king insisted on thinking his elder sons meant him ill. Athelstan and Edmund had proven their worth to their father. They were excellent warriors, who fought for their father whenever they had to, and yet, he never fought for them, not at the Witan and certainly not in the privacy of his home.

  And then there was the queen. Northman knew that his father and Queen Emma enjoyed a good relationship. Even now, she was grateful to him for protecting her from Swein and his men when she first came to England, and despite everything that had happened in the intervening years, she was still happy to call on him and offer him support. But, and this was an insurmountable problem for his father, she was against the king’s older sons and always looked with disdain whenever Leofwine spoke in their favour. Northman knew that she firmly believed that her sons were the rightful heirs of their father, the boys were the sons of an anointed king and an anointed queen, not, as the older boys were, the sons of a king and a disgraced ealdorman’s daughter.

  Nothing Leofwine said or did, and nothing that Athelstan, Edmund and their brothers did, could dissuade her from the belief.

  It was the only thing that marred their friendship. Northman idly wondered how the queen would react to the news that Leofwine had thrown in his lot so wholeheartedly with Swein.

  Whatever the conversation between the king and his oldest son had been about, it was now over, the king remaining in his place, but Athelstan stomping away. Northman could tell that he looked less than happy, but being as he was trying to ingratiate his way back into Eadric’s entourage, he was unable to seek out Athelstan. He’d need to wait for Olaf to find out what had happened, or for Eadric to ask the king. But for the time being, Northman stepped forward with Eadric and went to his knee to greet his king.

  The king seemed pleased to see him and did him the courtesy of not looking around for his father. It was clearly just taken that Leofwine and he were estranged again if Northman was with Eadric.

  Æthelred had aged during his three months away from England. He didn’t appear frail, but he was no longer as physically vigorous as he’d once been. Northman didn’t think that was a good sign, not when the country was crying out for good leadership and faced a very real threat from Cnut.

  “Northman, I hear you’re a father again,” he began by saying, and Northman, always keen to speak about his children felt his criticisms of the king wash away in an instant.

  “Yes my Lord, another son.”

  “Well I can only warn you that sons can sometimes be a curse,” he muttered, and Northman watched him turn to where his elder son had left the hall. Eadric quickly filled an uncomfortable silence.

  “Come, my Lord, sons, have their advantages as well.”

  “Some of the better one’s do,” the King said, not being swayed even by the wheedling tone of his closest confidant. It made Northman wonder why he’d even brought the conversation up.

  “And your younger sons are well?” Northman interjected, “and the queen?”

  At the mention of his younger family, Æthelred visibly relaxed and became more animated.

  “The queen and the boys and my daughter are well, yes. They’ll stay in Normandy until I’m assured that the English do want me back as their king. I don’t want to put them in any danger by bringing them with me.”

  “A wise move, but I think I speak for everyone when I say that the people are keen to have you back on the throne. Swein’s reign has been brief and catastrophic for all.”

  “And the other ealdormen? They’ve not come to greet me, or the archbishop’s and Abbots?”

  “They were unsure of when you would arrive and decided to stay in London instead. I’m sure they would come and meet you in Canterbury if you preferred.”

  “So they know I’m coming then?” he quizzed, and Northman looked from Eadric to the king. Just what had Eadric said to him?

  “Of course my Lord, it was agreed by the Witan, convened in your absence, that you were to be invited back to England. Did Eadric not inform you of this?”

  “He did yes, but I wanted to hear it from another, just to be on the safe side. Now, tell me what has happened while I’ve been gone. Has Cnut returned to his land?”

  “The last I heard he was burying his father’s body at Gainsborough before leaving for Denmark.”

  And then Thorkell stepped into the hall, and Northman watched with fascination as he walked towards the king. He’d not noticed him when the king had arrived. He wondered if he’d travelled on another ship.

  “You were right Thorkell. Cnut has gone to bury his father before returning to Denmark,” the king called to the tall man.

  “At Gainsborough?” the huge Dane asked.

  “Yes, he left London before I did, so I imagine his task is accomplished by now.”

  Thorkell turned his gaze on Northman, examining him minutely.

  “You were there when Swein died?”

  “No, my Lord Thorkell, I was in Deerhurst. My father was, and Eadric of course,” Northman said, extending his arm to indicate the ealdorman who, strangely for him, stood quietly at his side.

  “Yes Eadric said he was there, but I little believed him, knowing how much Swein held him in contempt. There, Eadric, another part of your story that the king and I doubted has been confirmed by an independent witness.” The Danes' voice was devoid of all emotion, but clearly, not everything in Normandy had gone Eadric’s way. Northman almost wished he’d been there to see Eadric falter in his steps.

  Trying to be helpful and aware of the tension between the three men, Northman spoke into the silence,

  “Is there anything else you need to know?”

  “Not for the time being, no. Your father, Leofwine, where is he?” The king spoke to Northman but his eyes flickered between Eadric and Thorkell, and once more Northman wished he’d been with Eadric in Normandy. It was just possible that the king had finally found an ally in Thorkell who was worth having.

  “He remains in London as well my Lord, with the other ealdormen. They thought it best to stand together until you returned.”

  “The other ealdormen, you mean Uhtred, Ulfcytel and Ælfric?”

  “Yes, my Lord. They were with Swein in London, and after the Witan unanimously voted to have you as our king once more they stayed there. Eadric, of course, came to inform you of the decision.” He missed out the part about Eadric rushing to leave London and doing so before the other men of the Witan had decided on who should travel to Normandy. After all, he was supposed to be supporting Eadric not showing him as a desperate man.

  “Thank you Northman, you can go now. If I think of anything else, I’ll call you back.” Dismissed a little abruptly, Northman looked at Eadric for some guidance, but Eadric just nodded his head and left Northman with no choice but to walk away. As he did so he had a deep sense of foreboding, the King had openly allied himself to the Danish raider, and it was no secret that he and Cnut were not currently on the best of terms.

  As he walked outside, he heard shouting in the Danish tongue and turned in concern to see who it was. He expected it to be one
of Thorkell’s men, but the man who swept past him, his clothing richly decorated and his arm covered in arm-rings was a man of just as much stature as Thorkell. Hesitating in his steps, he turned quickly to watch the new man and the old king.

  Stepping back inside the hall he watched with interest as Æthelred stood and greeted the man as a friend, their hands clasping together. The look of disgust on Thorkell’s face didn’t go unmissed as the name ‘Olaf’ swept through the hall. Not another one? Northman thought. The amount of Northern men who shared the name Olaf made almost any conversation about the Northmen a minefield of confusion and incorrect assumptions.

  Northman stepped once more from the hall feeling dizzy with the possibilities of the future swirling around his head: Æthelred, Athelstan, Cnut, Thorkell, Olaf and even Edmund. They could all upset the delicate balance of power that currently held the English lands together. He only hoped that the infighting would stop soon. He doubted it.

  Chapter 8

  AD1014

  Leofwine

  London

  He pulled his cloak tight around his chill body and watched as dispassionately as he could as Æthelred wound his way through the crowd of onlookers who’d come to see their usurped king restored to his throne. The king was dressed in his finest clothes, with his crown shining brightly on his head in the early summer sun.

  There was to be a simple ceremony within Wulfstan’s church, nothing as grand as the coronation, but enough that everyone would be forced to rededicate themselves to Æthelred’s reign, re-swear their oaths of commendation.

  The king would be alone, his wife and three younger children still safe in Normandy with their uncle, but his older children would be in attendance, whether willingly or not, Leofwine was unsure.

  He’d heard nothing from his son since the king had returned, but neither had he expected to. Their latest display of acrimony had been very public and very bitter, and it still rankled that the charade was necessary. The only thing that kept him going was that it had been a charade. If their argument had been for real, he knew it would have crippled him with grief to be so estranged from his firstborn son. Bad enough for your father to die while you were still a youth, but ten times worse if the dispute was of your making.

  He found it increasingly difficult to understand the king’s attitude towards his older sons, and it didn’t help that the king somehow felt that Leofwine’s acrimonious relationship with his son somehow made the king’s problems seem reasonable.

  The king had spent a little time making his way to London, with Eadric as his constant companion and wasp in his ear. Leofwine had only had a few brief moments with the king, but he could already tell that Æthelred was unhappy with him. He wished he could summon the enthusiasm to care a little more, but he’d been playing this game for his entire adult life, and it was growing tedious.

  His traitorous thoughts often returned to Cnut, and he knew that he was wavering in his belief in Æthelred. If only Swein had lived a little longer, and Cnut had managed to establish himself with the other ealdormen. Then there would have been no need to have Æthelred back again.

  The king’s procession was almost within the church, and Leofwine felt a gentle tap on his arm from Oscetel.

  “It’s time to enter my Lord,” he muttered softly, his thoughts on today’s events evident in his tight stance and pensive face. Oscetel would have been far happier with Cnut as their king.

  Leofwine obediently turned his face away from the king and ducked inside the church. It was bedecked with early summer flowers, plundered from anywhere they could be found growing. They carried a slight fragrance in the mild heat from the few braziers within the large mostly wooden building. Some of the church was being reconstructed in precious stone, but Leofwine knew he’d never live long enough to see it completely rendered in stone, and neither would Wulfstan.

  Most of the guests were already in their seats, and Leofwine dutifully noted who had come to honour the king and who had held themselves aloft. Whether Æthelred liked it or not, many men had resolved themselves to future rule under a Scandinavian king. Æthelred’s return was to be endured with patience until he died, or Cnut claimed the throne, and the expectant faces of those who were prepared to wait and see what happened were the only ones the king could see facing him.

  Prominent at the front of the Church was the king’s older sons, Athelstan, Edmund and Eadwig and Eadric’s brothers. Leofwine chose to ignore them all, and with the use of Oscetel as his guide; he settled himself on the front row. He needed to spend some time training a new hound to be his eyes, but for the meantime, Oscetel had taken the place of Hammer in public, the old hound shipped back to retire in peace at Deerhurst. Leofwine had been both saddened and relieved to see him go. The old boy was near as half blind as his master by now, and he deserved some warmth before a massive fire to end his days, not the constant toing and froing that was going to mark the coming months.

  He hoped he made it home to Deerhurst to see his faithful companion one more time, but he wasn’t sure what the king had planned for the coming summer months. He knew that Æthelflæd and Ealdgyth would spoil the old boy, as they would Northman’s old hound as well. He wished the dogs weren’t such a constant reminder of the years tugging at his greying hair.

  Silence filled the church, and Leofwine stood to watch Æthelred walk through the swathe of thegns and king’s thegns who lined the back of the church, and then on through the abbots and bishops and finally through his older sons, the athelings, and his few ealdormen.

  Æthelred walked with confidence but no bluster. He knew he was only here at the behest of everyone within the room, and that even then, not everyone wanted him back. Leofwine pitied him for a moment. The man had been laughed at and ridiculed by everyone here in the few months that Swein ruled. Perhaps, after all, he was right to stand so close to Eadric who had proved the most loyal of them. Eadric had been without a voice during Swein’s rule, a canker to be tolerated but nothing more. Until Swein decided what to do with him. Only he never had.

  Æthelred was carefully dressed, the jewels in his crown shimmering in the many candles that illuminated the church and the odd ray of sunlight that filtered through the small windows, some glassed but others not.

  Wulfstan was busy seeking benefactors for his church, and until then Leofwine thought he purposefully left some quite vital pieces of the church fabric in a bad state of repair. How else was he to gain the necessary funds? If others thought the church complete, they would wonder why he still needed lands and wealth.

  Leofwine saw his son take his place beside Eadric, and he flicked his gaze away before he could give the lie to the truth they were trying to perpetuate. At his side, Oscetel grumbled into his chest but didn’t say anything articulate. Leofwine was grateful. They’d exchanged some heated words about Northman’s plan and what had made it more intolerable was that Leofwine had agreed with everything that Oscetel had said and Oscetel had both known that, and pressed the point.

  Wulfstan’s words rang out loud and clear in his church, and Leofwine allowed himself to enjoy the service of prayers and sermons, as only at the end would Æthelred be expecting his ealdormen to stand and walk towards him, before kneeling and making their commendation. He would do as was expected but he had yet to decide if he’d be pleased to do it, or whether it would be out of duty. His earlier oath to Æthelred hung heavily upon him even now. He was torn, and he thought he would be until his death or the king’s.

  Wulfstan spoke eloquently of the need for good leadership, exceptional guidance and the need for unity. All things that the king and his advisors needed to strive towards and a few times Leofwine felt his face crease a little with a smile. Wulfstan was a worldly religious man, who understood his king and his people as well as Leofwine did, and he was showing that with the words he used.

  “Therefore it is clear and well seen in all of us that we've previously more often transgressed than we've amended, and therefore much is considerably assaili
ng this nation. Nothing has prospered now for a long time either at home or abroad, but there has been military devastation and hunger, burning and bloodshed in nearly every district time and again. And stealing and slaying, plague and pestilence, murrain and disease, malice and hate, and the robbery by robbers have injured us very terribly.”

  Once or twice a faint glimmer of unease passed over Æthelred’s otherwise placid face and Leofwine wondered just how much of the speech Wulfstan had agreed with the king in advance, and how much he’d interpolated as he spoke.

  Finally, though, the prayers and sermons faded away, the shuffling of many bodies became audible to all, and the king looked expectantly at his people.

  Eadric, of course, lead the way, rushing in an unseemly manner to kneel before the king, almost tripping as he went, forcing the king to physically stop him from landing on his lap. Luckily few noticed other than those in the front row and Leofwine, cursing himself as he did so, quickly stepped forward himself and masked reaching out to right Eadric as a move on his part to steady his precarious balance as he was without Hammer. Æthelred nodded at the gesture in thanks whereas Eadric shook him off angrily. Leofwine ignored him and bent his knee instead. Beside him, Eadric did the same, and they were joined by Uhtred, Ulfcytel and Ælfric, who, on creaking knees, lowered himself. In a move, they’d not rehearsed, but which came easily to them all, they spoke the words of the commendatory oath, pledged themselves once more to their king and waited for the king to accept their oaths.

  The king, a broad smile on his face, gestured for them all to stand beside him, and then the longest afternoon of Leofwine’s life slowly began to play out as sons, bishops, abbots and thegns all repeated the commendation before their king.

  Leofwine noted all who spoke with joy and all who took the floor begrudging. All the time, he refused to meet the eyes of his eldest son, and instead, when he needed some strength, he glanced at Leofric and the lad grinned mischievously back at his father, causing genuine smiles to snake over his straining face.