by M J Porter
Chapter 37
Easter AD1016
Leofwine
Oxford
He walked from the king’s bedchamber. There was nothing for him inside now. Æthelred, his king for all his life, was dead. He wanted nothing more than to stop and mourn the man. His death, coming as soon as it did after Horic’s was a severe blow. And yet, he couldn’t even take time to offer hasty prayers for his soul. No, he needed to act immediately to secure the throne for whom? Should it be Edmund or Cnut?
Cnut already had control of Northumbria. He’d taken advantage of Uhtred’s absence to lay waste York, forcing Uhtred to return to Northumbria and bow his knee to Cnut. Leofwine feared for his life.
Leofwine cited the men who’d died that year, Horic, Æthelred, and knew that they would simply be the first of much more.
Cnut and Edmund had not yet met in battle, and when they did, wherever that may be, there would be slaughter on a vast scale. Men he knew and respected, and those he detested, would meet their fate and he wished he could restore the balance with words alone but knew he couldn’t.
Archbishop Wulfstan left the room behind him and motioned for Leofwine to follow him. Leofwine had a flashback to events three years before. Could it only be three years? He shook his head in disbelief.
Wulfstan led him to a small alcove where they could speak without fear of being overheard.
“Does this make our current predicament any easier?” the man asked without any preamble. Leofwine appreciated the bluntness of the question.
“It’s difficult to know. There will be both relief that Æthelred is dead and also sadness. People will want the continuity of his son on the throne. Edmund will have the backing of the men of the Witan and the fyrds, as he currently does. But, whether that’ll be enough to overthrow Cnut and his pretensions, it’s difficult to know.”
Wulfstan’s keen eyes bored into Leofwine’s.
“And who will you support?”
Leofwine had been hoping not to have to face the question just yet, but he had no choice. He must make his decision.
“Edmund,” he spoke fiercely. “Cnut has made it clear he doesn’t value you me as his ally.”
“And yet if Edmund fails, you’ll be able to fall back on your past friendship.”
“I will, yes, but Edmund should be king. The men of the land will proclaim him as such.”
“Then I should do the same. Is London still ours?”
“At the last information we had, it was yes. Why?”
“I’ll go there, to my Church, and I’ll announce that Edmund is king and stir the people to stand even more firmly against Cnut.”
“And what of Northumbria?”
Wulfstan chuckled darkly at that.
“The English king’s have reclaimed York on countless occasions. Having it and holding it are two entirely different matters. Cnut has York, but he’ll not hold it. He’ll appeal to the shared ancestry of the people who live there, but the men and women of York think of themselves as English now, not Irish or Danish or Norse. They’ll not want to keep Cnut and Erik no matter how much Cnut thinks he might have won.”
“I should go to Edmund, pledge my allegiance to him, ask him to have me as his commended man.”
“Yes, you should. If the great Ealdorman of the Hwicce allies himself with Edmund, the new king of England, many will follow in your footsteps.”
“I only hope it’s the right thing to do.”
“It will be Leofwine. Edmund has the same skills as Cnut, the same desire to be king and he’ll be better than his father. He has everything his father didn’t have. Go with God, and hopefully, I’ll see you in London soon.”
“And Æthelred?” he asked not wanting to think of abandoning his king’s body so soon.
“I’ll ensure it’s buried as it must be and that the queen is comforted and made safe.”
Without further words, and pleased to avoid any confrontation with the queen, Leofwine strode once more to the stables. He felt as though his feet had barely stayed on the ground so far this year and he doubted they would do anytime soon.
Leofwine received a steady stream of messengers as he raced towards northern Mercia to meet Edmund and proclaim him king, only to discover half way into Mercia that he’d missed the new king who was making his way towards London to hold Cnut and his ship-army at bay. He must have received news that Cnut was once more trying to take London. He wondered if Cnut had taken his ships instead of riding there? It would have taken a few days at most either way, but in his ships, he was safe from any attack from the land army of the English king.
Stifling his frustration, Leofwine turned his horse south once more, and with barely any complaining, settled into the long journey back the way he’d just come. The weather was improving quickly, and he quite enjoyed watching the green shoots waking as he travelled.
Olaf had met him with his men not long after he’d left Oxford, determination all over his face. His father was dead and buried, his mother recovering well with the help of Æthelflæd and, as Leofwine had asked of him, he’d journeyed to the Welsh king and sought his agreement to support the English king, whether it be Edmund or Æthelred. He now wanted to re-join Leofwine and his men, and Leofwine welcomed his arrival. His world was in a state of flux, and friendly faces were somehow becoming more and more important. He was of the old generation now, a relic to an old king and his petty wants and needs. There was a new king now, and a vibrant one at that. He would want different things to his father, and that might mean he no longer wanted Leofwine.
Leofwine considered that as he rode on his tired mount over burgeoning new growth. There was something there for him to consider. Perhaps, after all, it'd be good to remove himself from the politics of the English Witan, to stay before his fire and in his bed during the long dark months of winter. Far better than racing up and down the country.
Within sight of London, Leofwine saw a large group of mounted riders and he sent Olaf forward to determine who they were. Olaf returned with the welcome news that they were Edmund’s men, and that London had proclaimed Edmund as their king. Leofwine was escorted into the town where he was taken to the king.
Edmund was seated in the hall where Swein and Æthelred had presided over the country, and he had a quiet acceptance about him.
Immediately Leofwine went down on his knee before the king and swore his oath to him. Edmund accepted it gracefully and then grinned at the man he’d been plotting with for much of the last few years. Then his face straightened, and he asked.
“My father, he had a good death?”
“No man can have a good end when it’s from ill-health, but he was unaware of much during the last few days and when he was conscious he had people around him who loved him and cared for his spiritual needs. He spoke of you with pride and gave his blessing to you as his heir. Still, I’m sorry he’s dead. He wasn’t always the best of kings, but he was my king, and I hope, my friend.”
Edmund’s face had clouded at Leofwine’s speech, and he smiled sadly as a stray tear fell down his face.
“He was a bastard a lot of the time, but, he was my father and my king, and I mourn him as both.”
Leofwine chuckled at the description of the late king.
“I was going for something more tactful before my new king,” he shrugged, and Edmund clasped him on the shoulder.
“Your tact is legendary, and my father thanks you for it. Even now. But now, we need to talk of Cnut and Uhtred. Or rather of the late Uhtred. My understanding is that Uhtred is dead at Eadric’s hands.”
“I’ve heard the same news,” Leofwine said sadly. He would miss Uhtred. Once more the list of men who’d lost their lives this year ran through his head. Horic, Æthelred, Uhtred. He feared who would be next.
“How can we banish him from England?”
Leofwine had been thinking the same throughout his long journey south. He wasn’t sure he had the answer to the problem yet.
“I’m not sure, but we need
more men. That’s a certainty. You’re currently riding high with the men from Wessex. They’re pleased to still have one of their royal line as the king. I would suggest a journey to Winchester. The men can then pledge their allegiance to you, see you confirmed as of the royal line and then they’ll raise the fyrd for you and you could attack Cnut. His ship army is vast and will have been swelled with the men of the Northumbrians who’ve been forced to ally with him to stay alive.”
Edmund looked pensive as Leofwine spoke,
“And what of London?”
“Cnut is keen to capture London, but as of yet, they’ve not welcomed his advances. I would suggest half of the current force stay here to protect London from any reprisals for naming you as king. I will stay, or perhaps Leofric could or even Ælfric. I thought I’d seen him somewhere.”
“Until the men of Wessex attend for the fyrd that would leave me short of men.”
“Yes, it would, certainly, but it’s important to hold London and reward the inhabitants for staying loyal. They need protecting.”
Edmund lapsed into silence, looking at the men within his hall. They were loud and bawdy that night, pleased to know that Ealdorman Leofwine was an ally of their new king. It was a good omen to have one of the staunchest supporters of the old king stand by the new.
“We’ll do it. Tomorrow I’ll walk amongst the people of London and have Wulfstan conduct a service of remembrance for my father, and then the next day, I’ll turn south and travel to Winchester. Do you know where Emma is?”
“I understand she’s in Exeter, but I might be wrong. I’ve heard no rumours that she’s working to make her sons king.”
“Good, I don’t need to deal with anyone else trying to take my throne right now. One Danish bastard is enough for me.”
“He’s no bastard my Lord, but he fights like one, and he thinks like one. Do you know where he is?”
“I understand he’s coming to London. I’ve sent word to the remainder of my father’s ship-army that they’re to come to London and block the Thames so that his ships can’t attack using the river. I hope they arrive in time.”
“A good thought Edmund. The ship-army have been left with little to do since Cnut’s arrival and those men are well trained and fight well.”
“Pity they couldn’t stop him gaining a foothold in England, but I know I can’t blame them for that.”
“No, it’s far more your father’s mistake, and also Cnut’s arrogance in thinking he can.”
“You’ve changed your mind then Leofwine? You think I should be king?”
Leofwine felt a little uncomfortable at such a stark question, but he answered it anyway.
“Swein made me swear an oath to him. I didn’t want to, but I did it anyway. He was dying, and he was my friend. Æthelred was weak, and England was besieged by the Norsemen. I believed having Cnut as our king would save England, but now, well now I think it would be far more complicated than that. He’s made an ally of Eadric, and I can’t understand that. He knows Eadric. He knows him by reputation, and what he’s done to Uhtred wounds me. I wanted a king who could rule as a king should, not through fear and intimidation. Cnut has shown his true temperament now, and I don’t like it. Not as my king.”
“My thanks, Leofwine. I’m pleased I live up to your ideal.” Edmund spoke softly. Leofwine wondered if it was the first time he’d heard a man praise him for his abilities. Still, he needed to speak forcefully to him.
“Good and don’t forget that my Lord. You rule by right of birth and because men expect you to be better than your father. Your father’s son, but better. Much better. Think before you act. Think of others before you act, and more than anything, drive Cnut from our land and make us strong again. I beg you.” Leofwine felt his voice shaking with his pent up anger. So long he’d hoped Cnut was the answer to England’s problems. He was bitterly disappointed in him.
Chapter 38
September AD1016
Northman
Assandun
A loud cry from in front of the massive army wound its way through to those at the rear and hastily, but professionally, the men made themselves ready once more for battle. The calmness, the ease, and the way the people’s movements were precise and efficient showed more than anything that this wasn’t an unexpected, or a new request. Three times now many of them had made themselves ready to face Cnut and his army in battle.
Not Northman though, not him. He’d been on both one side and then the other in the battles that had ravaged England for the last six months, since the old king’s death. He could no longer recall the victors of each battle, or even where they’d been fought. He was exhausted and dreamed of a good night’s sleep and his bed. The thought of his naked wife in the bed no longer dominated his thoughts. He just wanted to sleep.
They’d not exactly been chasing Cnut, self-proclaimed king of England, but they had been hoping to encounter him close to London and the Thames. They wanted the opportunity to drive him from England, make it so that the better option, the only way to survive, would be to get in his ship and either travel home to Denmark or return to Northumbria which Erik still held for him. Northman was hoping for peace. He didn’t care who won as long as someone did, and overwhelmingly at that. This year would be written about as the year England had three kings, and two of them at the same time. It would not make for pleasant reading.
Edmund, supported by the men of London and of the Witan had proclaimed himself king after his father’s death at Easter, but Cnut had done the same, declaring himself king of England in Northumbria and the east side of Mercia. Only the silent menace of the Welsh king on his border had prevented Cnut from trying his luck there. That and the fact the Eadric had once more pledged his allegiance to the English king. Cnut hadn’t supported him as he’d expected and so, at the earliest opportunity, he’d returned to the English side, professing his allegiance to Edmund and telling his new king that everything he’d done had been an effort to tempt Cnut to make bad decisions, but he was no longer trusted. By anyone.
His men, Northman amongst them, were boxed in on all sides by men loyal to the king. His father, Ulfcytel, Ælfric, the king’s brothers, all held positions of trust around the edges of the main army. Eadric was right at its heart. Or rather he would be if he weren’t off arguing with King Edmund once more. Northman hoped that Edmund tired of the man’s voice as much as he did.
Cnut had been denied entry into London when he’d travelled there after learning of Æthelred’s death. From there he’d moved into the Wessex heartlands of the English king, hoping to be welcomed there. He’d badly misread the situation and had found himself opposed by the Wessex fyrd with Edmund as their commander and king. There had been not one but two battles, at Penselwood and Sherston, but neither had been a victory or a defeat for the two kings.
The inconclusiveness of the two battles had led Cnut to think he still had a chance and had quickly tried to return to London, only to be refused entry once more. With the English army closing on his position, he’d decided to turn and fight, face his pursuers on the ground of his choosing. It didn’t look like a promising site, but it was up a hill, and it was difficult to attack uphill. Still, Edmund and his advisors had decided that they would. They were going to throw everything at this attack. They wanted Cnut dead or gone.
Northman had seen his father the day before, and his brother had rushed past him only this morning. Ostentatiously he’d had news for everyone, but he was letting his brother know of the coming attack and where he’d be placed in the mass of men. It was an opening and one he needed. If he could, he was to find a way to return to his father and make his peace with the king. Edmund knew that he’d long been working for the English side, an ally of Eadric’s only because it was the best way to know what he was doing. Now Northman had decided enough was enough. He no longer wanted to be tainted by being so closely associated with Eadric, a man who was becoming notorious for being unable to stay loyal to anyone.
In the confusion
of the battle, he would sneak away and hopefully never see Eadric again.
Olaf was on his one side, and he knew of the plan, Eadric’s brother, Ælthelmær was at his other, and he was acting a little suspiciously, so much so that Northman felt a deep chill of unease. Eadric wasn’t finished yet. He clearly had something else in mind depending on how the battle played out. Ælthelmær had brought the men from the Magonsaete province of Mercia to be commanded by his brother. Eadric had thanked him for the show of support, but Northman was unhappy at Eadric having men with swords who’d follow his orders and his word. Too many times now other men had fought Eadric’s battles for him.
Northman wracked his mind trying to think of when Eadric would have had the opportunity to speak to Cnut, or send a message to Cnut, or do anything that might compromise the battle to come. He could think of no such opportunity unless this had been the plan all along. Turning to Olaf, he bent his head as close to him as he could.
“Go to my father, please, don’t argue with me,” he said, as his friend tried to do just that.
“Tell him I’m worried Eadric may have another surprise for us. His brother is acting very strangely. He knows something that I don’t.”
Olaf flicked his gaze to Ælthelmær. He was busy readying himself for battle, but with a lack of care that any warrior would have found worrying. He didn’t intend to do any actual fighting; that much was obvious from the condition of his weapons to his flimsy clothing.
“I might not get back in time,” Olaf argued loudly. Northman knew it too, but he didn’t want it to stop Olaf.
“Fight with my father if that should happen, and don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Either way, I’ll have to mirror whatever Eadric does.”
