by Jorvik- A thrilling tale of Viking Britain (retail) (epub)
‘I know that.’ Asketil did not appear concerned. ‘Do not worry that the Earl upsets me. I can stand my ground with him.’
‘Oh, you are a better man than him any day! Nay, I just do not want you to think me perfidious after all the loyalty you have shown me. So…’ here he gave a smile. ‘I have arranged consolation for you.’
Asketil looked interested. ‘Judging by your face it must be something good.’
‘Oh, she is.’ Sigurd laughed as Til’s jaw dropped, and he clapped the younger man on the back. ‘Close your mouth! She will be here soon and you do not want her to think she is to wed a half-wit, do you?’
‘I have no wish to wed anyone!’ Asketil retained his pallor.
Sigurd did not appear to regard this as a handicap. ‘You will when you see her!’ That brought back memories. For a second he envisioned himself in Una’s arms and his mother bursting in to tell him she had arranged a bride.
But Asketil’s reaction was very different than his own had been towards Estorhild.
‘Your daughter is very beautiful,’ he said politely to the girl’s parents when, dressed in their finery, they rolled up that afternoon in the garth. ‘But I cannot wed her.’
‘Til! What is this foolishness?’ Sigurd gave a false laugh. ‘These good people have not even climbed down from their wagon and you insult them.’ Hurrying forth he assisted the bemused womenfolk from their wagon and into the house. ‘I beg you to excuse my son! He is so nervous of wedlock that he does not know what he says – food, drink for these good people!’ Whilst the servants hurried to comply, Asketil watched his foster-father try to repair the damage he himself had inflicted but could not feel sorry even for the intended bride who sat there blushing and uncomfortable. He even resented her – resented her for not being Mildryth.
Sigurd was coming towards him, a look of barely concealed anger on his face. ‘Til,’ he growled. ‘You will go and apologise to these people at once and seat yourself next to your betrothed.’
Asketil set his jaw and hissed back, ‘You should have given me more warning!’
‘You make it sound as if I am asking you to wed a leper!’ Sigurd was red in the face. ‘Look at her, man! How often do you see a beauty like that?’ The maid was fifteen, the same age that Mildryth had been when she left; she was blonde, creamy-skinned and voluptuous. ‘Give me one good reason for not wanting her and I will send them all packing!’
Asketil fought for an excuse, but in doing so began to look more closely at his intended bride. Sigurd was right, of course. He could refuse to marry this one but his foster-father would not give up here and subsequent brides might not be so attractive.
‘What are you saving yourself for, man?’ hissed Sigurd.
How could Asketil tell him? Besides, it had been over a year since Mildryth had gone. She would never come back now… but he could dream.
When his foster-son remained dumb, Sigurd tried another tack. ‘Or art thou one of those who prefers men?’
‘Nay!’ Asketil was wounded.
‘Then answer me now yea or nay, will you humiliate me in front of these people?’
Asketil looked into Sigurd’s face, then shook his head in relenting fashion. ‘Nay, I will wed her, if you will forgive me for being an idiot.’
Sigurd was happy again. ‘You are no idiot! It is natural that you are nervous. I remember acting the fool myself when I first met Estorhild. Come now, they are growing restless.’ All smiles, he drew Til back to the group by the hearth who had been served with food but hardly touched it.
‘My son has something to say to you.’ Sigurd coaxed Asketil forth.
The young man cleared his throat and bowed to the embarrassed group, speaking mainly to the bride’s father. ‘I most humbly beg your forgiveness if, in my nervous state, I insulted you. If you are willing to overlook my rude manners I would like to ask for your daughter’s hand.’
The man, a wealthy noble, rose and returned the bow first to Asketil then to Sigurd. From politeness, he tried to hide the fact that he had been grossly insulted by the reception but it showed in the coolly courteous reply. ‘Forgiveness is granted… and I hope that you too will forgive us, Lord Sigurd, if we turn the offer down. I regret that our daughter does not find your son to her liking. She does not wish to be his bride and has expressed a desire to go home.’
Sigurd reacted as if struck in the face, murmuring lamely, ‘Then she is at liberty to do so.’
Asketil was equally taken aback as the party left the house with only polite bows being exchanged. For the moment he was speechless, watching the servants remove the uneaten food and dismantle the table.
Sigurd was annoyed now. ‘Let him find a better catch elsewhere! The rat – and you are not entirely blameless for my humiliation!’ He stabbed a finger at Asketil. ‘It will be a long time before I put myself in such a position again.’
‘I pray you not to,’ said Asketil. ‘I would not have you humiliated on my behalf. If I find a woman whom I wish to wed then so be it, but until then I will grab my pleasure where I can.’
Sigurd grunted. ‘Do not imagine I will let you use my concubines after the way you have just made me look.’
Asketil shrugged. ‘I think that Earl Tostig will keep us both too busy for that.’
This was true and continued to be so for another year. The number of prosecutions at the shire courts remained high.
‘Who would have imagined that there could be so many criminals in Eoforwicshire?’ wondered Asketil.
‘You will not hear me complain.’ Sigurd, who took a percentage of the fines imposed, had seen his coffers bulge in the last two years.
‘But others complain about you,’ answered Til who, as his reeve, had to collect the fines. ‘Before Tostig, you always enjoyed a reputation as a fair and just lord; now you are not always so fair in your imposition of penalties. I have heard many grumbles. Take care that in following his example you do not alienate yourself from your people.’
Sigurd was adamant. ‘They will understand that my actions are only on Tostig’s instructions. Once we get rid of him they will see again their fair and just lord – fair and just earl,’ he corrected himself with a grin.
Asketil was dubious. ‘Tostig remains in great favour.’
Sigurd only laughed and gave his usual reply. ‘Watch and wait, oh faithless one.’
* * *
But Tostig went from strength to strength in the opinions of Jorvik’s citizens. They had feared that on Siward’s death King Malcolm would come warring down on them from Scotland, but lo and behold Tostig had succeeded in making a friend out of him! Four years after taking office he persuaded Malcolm to visit King Edward and the Archbishop of Jorvik. There had been no visit of a Scottish king for eighty years. The citizens were impressed, Sigurd less so.
‘Four years,’ he sighed heavily to Asketil. ‘I must eat my words. I did not imagine I would have to wait so long. Indeed, I have to accept that I may never live to claim the earldom.’
‘I never thought I would see the day!’ cried Asketil, now a man of twenty-two and as yet unmarried though content enough to be so.
Sigurd laughed. ‘Yea, you are right. Old as I am I would still take it if I had the chance, even unto the day I die.’ He passed some moments in silence looking into the fire by which they both sat in the company of trusted housecarls. ‘And I would still wed Mildryth if I could find her.’
An electric current rippled Til’s body. Sigurd did not notice the look on his face but continued speaking. ‘I often wonder where she is, and is she wed to another? She would be… oh, about nineteen or twenty years of age now.’ He shook his head in confusion. ‘You would think that to marry an ealdorman would be enough to someone of her background, but no, she had to wed an earl or nought. I used to get angry when I thought of the way she rejected me, leaving behind everything I had bought for her. But no more. No man died of rejection.’ He glanced at Til who had made not a murmur, and was jolted into remembrance of his frien
d Ulf – not that Til shared many of his real father’s features, it was just that sometimes he would tilt his head in a particular way and for that moment Sigurd would be transported back in time. Til moved and the likeness was gone. The older man gave a knowing smile. ‘I think you had a soft spot for her yourself – more than was natural for a sister.’
Asketil displayed shock, but did not answer yea or nay.
Sigurd chuckled, not realizing the depth of Asketil’s feeling for the girl – how could it have been as intense as his own? ‘I thought so. ’Tis best she is gone, though I did not think so at the time. We might have come to blows over her and that would not do. Now we have both gotten over her.’
Asketil gave a weak smile and leaned on his knees, still unable to disclose his true love for Mildryth and the sacrifice he had made for Sigurd. Had he truly got over her loss? Not truly – for why had he still not found any woman to compare? Would he live his whole life relying on concubines for affection?
Both men’s lives went on in similar fashion for another three years, having plenty to occupy them other than home matters, for ever since Tostig had come to power there had been war between England and Gruffydd ap Llywelyn, King of Gywnedd and Powys. In 1062, however, Tostig’s brother Earl Harold, virtual ruler of England, decided to bring the matter to a decisive close and called on Tostig’s help. Whilst Harold sailed around the coast receiving hostages, Sigurd and Asketil as part of Tostig’s army penetrated Gywnedd where, eventually, both of Godwin’s sons met up and laid the country waste. In an attempt to stop the carnage, Gruffydd was killed by his own men and his head presented to Harold who finally partitioned Wales. Tostig, basking in his brother’s glory, took his army back to Jorvik to be greeted as a hero. This constant adulation went to the Earl of Northumbria’s head. He began to think that he could do anything and the people would accept it. In this supposition he called his ealdorman to a private meeting and told Sigurd that he intended to raise taxes. ‘After all, I have done much for them during my seven years as Earl. By exterminating the robbers that plagued their highways I have in effect granted them more money in their purses, so it is only right that they contribute towards this service. The expense should not all be mine.’
Sigurd, leaning one elbow on the table before him, tapped a thoughtful finger to his mouth, saying nothing at the moment but inside enjoying a surge of optimism. The Earl was about to make a most serious error by equating hero-worship with financial reward; the citizens would think otherwise.
‘You do not offer an opinion,’ said Tostig.
‘I am here but to do your bidding,’ answered Sigurd, who had no wish to prevent anything that would detract from the Earl’s popularity.
‘Quite so,’ nodded Tostig, and reached for a document. ‘And I bid you to have copies of this posted around the shire – it is a list of the new taxes.’ Before handing it to his ealdorman he read its contents aloud.
Sigurd could not help raising an eyebrow at the harshness of the taxes. ‘They will be difficult to impose, but not impossible.’ He took possession of the rolled manuscript.
Tostig smiled at the man whom he regarded as an old friend. ‘I knew that I could rely on you, Sigurd, and I recognize that you as my collector will be faced with opposition, but you will be amply rewarded.’
Sigurd could barely contain himself as he rushed home to announce to Asketil, ‘It has begun! Tostig has started to dig his own grave at last!’ In excited tone he related to his foster-son all that the Earl had said, including the part about his own reward.
‘But if you take a share of the taxes you are as bad as him,’ Asketil pointed out.
‘Nay! It is only right that I be paid for doing his dirty work.’ Nothing could shake Sigurd’s enthusiasm. ‘And shall I not have to pay these taxes myself?’
‘I hope the citizens will see it like that,’ replied a worried Asketil.
Naturally there was a great deal of opposition to the harsh taxes. Shortly after the notices were posted, a deputation arrived, representing the thegns of the shire. Sigurd was sympathetic to their hardship but regretted that there was little he could do to help. ‘Am I not in the same boat as yourselves?’
‘But you have more oars,’ was the cryptic reply from their spokesman, Rudolf. ‘And you are the one responsible for the collection of these taxes. Could you not simply refuse to do so?’
‘How can I go against the Earl?’ Sigurd spread his hands in helpless gesture and looked around at the collection of faces. ‘My lords, I do not agree with Tostig’s impositions – I have told him this – but he has warned me of dire consequences if I do not comply. Still… for the sake of my friends I will try one last time to change his mind.’
The thegns left. Sigurd turned to grin at his foster-son, but Asketil showed disapproval. ‘You have no intention of speaking to the Earl, have you?’
‘Oh, do not be so pious, Til!’ Sigurd delivered a friendly clout.
This infuriated Asketil. After all I have given up for you! he wanted to shout. But of course he did not.
‘I shall not have to keep up the pretence for long,’ opined Sigurd. ‘The thegns themselves will remove him.’
But to Sigurd’s annoyance this did not happen. Out of respect for the King who had appointed Tostig and for his past heroics, the northerners continued to tolerate their Earl and he went on to enjoy almost a decade in office.
During the past two or three years, Asketil’s unquestioning loyalty towards his foster-father had begun to wane. Old age had changed Lord Sigurd. He might argue that it was all pretence but Asketil felt that in his waiting game he enjoyed too many of Tostig’s favours. At the age of twenty-seven Asketil began to question his own future. Once, it had been a foregone conclusion that he would be Sigurd’s heir – but heir of what? It was certainly no honour to inherit such ill-gotten harvest as Sigurd had reaped lately. In his disappointment with his father he thought more and more of the love he had sacrificed. He had been young and idealistic then; he would not do the same now. Oh, no. If Mildryth were here he would wed her tomorrow. Thoughts of her began to dominate his whole life. When he played music he saw her dancing, when he combed his horse’s tail it was Mildryth’s hair he touched. Who would have thought that after ten years the flame could be rekindled so easily? Nay, there was nought easy about it. It was ten times worse at this age, for the knowledge that his life was halfway through with nought to show for it begat a panic that made him physically sick.
This state of lethargy was bound to draw Sigurd’s attention. ‘Come with me on my hunting trip with Tostig and the King,’ he entreated, worried that his adopted son was going to go the way of Ulf, so thin and pale had he become. ‘We will fatten you up with fresh meat – that will redden your cheeks.’
Asketil was stooped over a book as had become too much of a habit lately according to Sigurd. ‘I have no desire to rub shoulders with one who has ruined this city – and have you not always maintained that you hate the King?’
‘And so I do! But if I am given an opportunity to make Tostig look the fool before the King then I must snatch it. I thought you were sworn to help me?’
‘I have tried to help you with my good advice but you refuse to take it.’ Asketil lifted his eyes from the page and directed them at his foster-father. It was time to speak bluntly. ‘Father, if you still crave the earldom then you must act now. I was in the marketplace today and I heard many complaints about your failure to protect the citizens from Tostig’s abuse; they were not the first.’
‘Oh, have I not heard them myself.’ Sigurd flicked the air dismissively and began a leisurely walk up the hall that was empty but for the two of them. Sigurd himself would not have been in here had it not been for Til.
‘Then heed them! Tostig is draining the town of its prosperity and its good humour – and you by association are just as guilty!’
The old man reached a table and, picking some grapes from a bowl, put several into his mouth. ‘The people will eventually understand my
strategy.’
Asketil banged his lectern to show frustration. ‘Father, I beg you do something now!’
Sigurd peppered the floor with a shower of grape-pips. ‘Kill the King’s favourite and have the might of his fyrd down upon my shoulders? Nay, if there is one thing I have learnt in my life it is to be patient.’
‘Patient or indifferent?’ quothed Asketil. That there was no responding fire proved to him that Sigurd had reached decrepitude at last. It was sad to witness after so great a career. ‘Your thegns send constant petitions about the Earl’s behaviour and you ignore them – worse! You allow Tostig to get away with murder.’ Til’s accusation was not metaphorical: if the Earl wanted someone’s property he would kill for it. ‘He has even robbed churches! Had he been a common man this alone would warrant the amputation of his hand, yet because he is an earl he gets away scot free.’
But the protestations fell upon deaf ears. Unperturbed, Sigurd retraced his steps back to the lectern, hands behind back. ‘It would be unwise to make my move before I am sure that the people will follow me,’ was his mild objection. ‘Why, it would look as if I had instigated the rebellion and if it failed… Well, I should be the first to lose my head. The initiative must appear to come from the thegns.’
‘Oh, be off on your hunting trip!’ Asketil dismissed him and went back to crouching over his book, though he was in no mood to read now. ‘I will remain here – you have much need of a friend to guard your interests.’
Chapter Twenty-One
Sigurd’s interests were far from Til’s mind as he maundered alone in Jorvik. Day after day he gazed into the future and saw nothing. In his increasingly restless state he came to see that the future was of his own making, and in this revelation he made his choice: he would search for Mildryth again. There was no logic to his actions – for had he not combed every possible place before? – but he followed his instincts regardless and rode north alone. Maybe her parents had been hiding her on his original visit. True, they had quaked when Sigurd threatened to torch their house unless they produced her, and their repudiations had obviously been genuine, but even if they had been truthful at that time Mildryth could have gone to them later. It was worth the journey.
