Jorvik

by Jorvik- A thrilling tale of Viking Britain (retail) (epub)

  Mildryth tried to project a happier outcome. ‘When he learns how much you tried to resist me he will not be so angry.’

  Both knew that she was being over-optimistic. ‘Nay, he will be furious,’ corrected Til, ‘and mayhap will never speak to me again. It will be terrible to lose his love and respect but even more terrible to live without you. Indeed, I can no longer live without you.’ Unable to resist, he ran his hands over her one last time, then pulled her to her feet. ‘Ugh, my broks are sodden! Come, jump up and let us make haste, for I fear that if I have too much time to think on it, I will revert to being the coward I was and will shirk my duty.’ Mounted on the bay stallion, he put down a helping hand.

  ‘You are no coward.’ She hauled herself into position and leaned back against him. ‘Just too noble for your own good. Sigurd’s life is almost over; he has had his chances, and now you must take yours.’

  ‘You understand that he will also disown me as his heir?’

  ‘If I wished just for titles I would already be his wife. I care nought for any of it, soft fool, only for thee.’

  Asketil grinned then kissed her ear, and with a click of his tongue spurred the horse homewards.

  * * *

  They reached Earlsburh some days later, arriving in the afternoon. Long before this, however, they were made aware that trouble was brewing. There was an air of unrest far outside the palisades and the sentinels on the gates were unusually keen to check the identity of those arriving. Sigurd had not yet returned from his hunting trip with Tostig and the King, which was both a relief and a disappointment for Til who had primed himself for early confrontation. Once he and Mildryth had bathed and been given food he questioned a housecarl over the fraught atmosphere amongst the men of Earlsburh.

  ‘Since you left, the mood against Earl Tostig has worsened,’ replied the guard, unable to prevent his eyes from running over Mildryth who had arrived in nun’s garb and was now dressed as a lady. ‘If there should be an attack on his property the men fear we will not be able to withhold it.’ The majority of bodyguards had gone hunting with their master.

  Til assumed concern. ‘Is the threat real?’

  ‘Yea, there has been a gemot of the thegns – not just those of the city but many have come from miles away to attend. I pray that my lord Sigurd will soon return.’

  Til was decisive. ‘We must send immediate warning. There shall be no leave for any man, everyone must be…’

  At this point a commotion went up from outside. It was too late – the attack had begun! Til grabbed his sword and ran outside. Instantaneously the housecarl with whom he had just been conversing fell dead, an arrow in his chest. Til looked round as Mildryth followed with spear aloft. ‘Get back inside! I will not have you hurt.’

  She pretended to comply, but when her beloved rushed into the fray she went too and hovered ready to sink her point of iron into any would-be assailant. Sigurd’s teaching was not wasted; in spite of being outnumbered Til displayed great prowess. Inevitably, though, the depleted force of Earlsburh was overrun by the rebel thegns. Til fought until his right arm suffered a deep gash and he could no longer grip his sword. The thegns fell upon him. Mildryth charged at them but was tripped before her spear did any harm and bundled up with the other survivors.

  Watching her manhandled, Til raged to be free but a swordpoint held him at bay. ‘Kill me then, you cowards!’ he yelled.

  ‘We have no reason to kill one who has our respect,’ grunted the owner of the weapon, Rudolf. ‘We know that you spake in our favour to the tyrant – besides, you are a valuable hostage. Maybe now Lord Sigurd will listen to reason.’

  ‘Fools! When he hears what you have done he will vent much savagery for your betrayal.’

  ‘He has enjoyed enough of our loyalty,’ came the joint response.

  Til showed uncustomary harshness. ‘This is what you call loyalty for his years of protection?’

  ‘What protection did he offer against Earl Tostig?’ demanded Rudolf. ‘We gave him every chance to right his wrongs but he dismissed our petition!’

  Til knew that everything the thegns said was valid, though out of faithfulness he argued Sigurd’s case until they would no longer heed. One of them was in the process of making a declaration.

  ‘From this moment Earl Tostig is an outlaw – death to all those who aid him!’

  * * *

  By means of travelling folk, news of the attack preceded any official messenger. When Tostig learnt of it he was furious, urging the King to ride for Lunden and gather support to overthrow the insurgents. Sigurd found it hard to conceal his delight. Telling the deposed Earl that he would go north and quell the trouble he made for home, assuming that on his arrival he would hear himself pronounced Tostig’s successor. Such was his confidence that when he and his men attempted to pull into the riverbank at Jorvik and were repulsed by a horde, he laughed, thinking it was a case of mistaken identity. ‘Hold, men, it is your Earl come to replace the tyrant Godwinsson!’

  ‘Our earl is Morcar!’ came the retort, along with a shower of missiles.

  Incensed, Sigurd shouted orders for his crew to attack. He himself jumped from the prow into shallower waters and waded for the bank of Earlsburh, axe upraised. Another fear displaced the loss of his earldom now – Til was in that besieged city, maybe dead. He wished that he had brought more men for the thegns were greater in number. Nevertheless his housecarls were professional fighters; whilst they battled and splashed around the river he fought a path up the bank towards his own house, slicing and hacking with his axe. It was rash to detach himself from his bodyguards. Just as Asketil had been encircled and captured, so too was he – though not until many had fallen dead by his hand.

  The men who pinioned his arms were well-known to him. ‘A boon before you kill me, Helgi!’ he cried to one of them. ‘I would have news of my son. Tell me, is he dead?’

  ‘We have no wish to kill you,’ replied Helgi, breathless from the fight. ‘You have served us well enough in times gone by, but you deserted us with Tostig. We have chosen our own Earl Morcar and you must depart. Call off your men before any more die.’ The one-sided battle still continued on land and in the river.

  Relieved as Sigurd was to keep his life, he remained anxious for Til and tried to wrench himself free. ‘I will not go without news of my son!’

  ‘He is safe,’ came the answer, ‘and under house arrest.’

  ‘Then I would see him!’ It was not a request.

  Helgi’s face consulted with his partners. The thegns’ prime wish was to be rid of the old warrior. If they showed him Asketil, then maybe he would go peaceably. ‘Call off your men and you shall see him!’ came the instruction. A yell from Sigurd brought the bloody engagement to a halt. Whilst his surviving men were held at swordpoint, Helgi and two others led the old man, half-sodden and bound with ropes, into the hall.

  The group of hostages, around thirty in all, were eating their midday meal as if everything were as normal, but there were indications of rough handling upon them. Sigurd gave a cry at the stained bandage on Til’s arm as the young man rose to greet him. ‘You told me he was safe!’

  ‘He is not dead,’ replied the informant calmly.

  ‘But well he might be, for all the protection afforded by his sword arm now!’ The arm hung uselessly by Til’s side. He was obviously in great pain but smiled a welcome at his fostri. Sigurd tried to approach but found himself repressed. ‘In the name of God, cannot I comfort him? What evil can I do with my army gone?’

  Deciding it was no risk they untied him. Leaving a trail of wet footprints, he came at once to Til, who raised his good arm to encircle the old man.

  ‘I have been well tended, fostri. The arm will heal.’

  ‘Hmph!’ responded Sigurd… then over the younger man’s shoulder noticed another. Til felt him go rigid and knew that Mildryth had returned from her trip to fetch more ale. As the two men drew apart she came forth and set the pitcher on the table, a hesitant smile on her l
ips. Incredulity lit Sigurd’s face as he beheld the young woman. ‘Can it be… Mildryth! Mildryth, my sweet one, you have come back to us!’

  Enveloped in the old man’s hug, Mildryth could not see Til’s face. She waited for his explanation, but Til could not bring himself to add to his father’s disappointment. Without looking at Mildryth he felt her anger and hoped she would restrain any outburst.

  All trace of failure gone, Sigurd was ecstatic, running his horny old fingers up and down her arms, poring over her face. She was very much a woman now but miraculously had retained that air of purity that had captured his heart. ‘Oh, I cannot believe that I see you! Why did you leave me? Where have you been?’

  ‘I have lived at an abbey for the last ten years.’

  ‘As a nun?’ He sounded hopeful, but then noticed that her eyes flickered towards Asketil and he too looked at his foster-son. The truth was there for all to read. He fought it most desperately, his grip tightening on Mildryth’s arms.

  Til noted the discomfort on her face. ‘You are hurting her, fostri.’

  Deafened by his emotions, Sigurd did not heed at once, staring into his foster-son’s face. That treacherous face. When? When had it happened? He showed great reluctance to let her go but his captors had other ideas.

  ‘You shall go now to the King,’ said Helgi. ‘And tell him that we will not have Tostig back.’

  As Sigurd was removed his mind began to form plans. ‘Would you drag me away already? Cannot I have Asketil and Mildryth to come with me?’

  ‘Nay, they remain here as hostages to guard against your duplicity.’

  ‘Then at least let us say our farewells! The lad’s arm is so badly wounded that he could die before I set eyes on him again.’ When this was allowed he hugged Asketil. No, it cannot be, Til would never betray me. I am wrong, surely. My love for her misleads me. He whispered into his foster-son’s ear: ‘I shall go to the palace and enlist the help of Earl Tostig – he does not know of my grudge against him. I will be back as soon as I can to rescue you. Farewell, my son.’ Pulling away, he looked deep into Til’s face. ‘Look after my bride for me.’ Til averted his eyes. There was no doubt in Sigurd’s mind now. Aching, he grabbed Mildryth again, hugged her, then was compelled to leave.

  When he was gone, Mildryth turned on her lover. ‘Why did you not tell him? You were right to say you are a coward!’

  ‘Then you will not want to be my wife.’ It was delivered with comic pathos.

  She tore at her hair – ‘Aagh! You make me so mad!’ – then hugged him. ‘Whether I would or no I am left with no choice for I carry your child in my belly.’

  Preoccupied with the bandage that was sticking to his wound, he dismissed this as fantasy. ‘We have been together only days; it must be the quickest conception there has ever been.’

  ‘Even so I know it to be true. Another month will tell you that I am right. That is why it was vital that Lord Sigurd be told about us.’

  ‘He hath no need to be told.’ The reply was flat. Til stopped picking at the bandage and eyed her. ‘He saw it by the way we looked at each other.’

  Mildryth cringed. ‘Art certain? He showed no anger – said he would come back to rescue you.’

  Til used his good arm to pull her into his side, leaning his head against hers. ‘Not to rescue me, dear one – to kill me.’

  * * *

  Sigurd abandoned the city to its new leaders and with his remaining housecarls sailed for Lunden, vowing that his exile would be temporary. Whilst he travelled down the coast, what had begun as a northern revolt with two hundred thegns now developed into a general uprising. News of this had just reached the palace where an argument raged: Harold, Tostig’s brother, sympathized with the thegns. ‘They do not revolt without good reason.’

  Tostig responded with spite. ‘You use this excuse to fulfil your own grudge against me!’

  Harold was of calmer disposition than either his brother or the King. ‘I have no grudge – did I not support your right to the earldom of Northumbria?’ Even if I knew you were unsuitable, he added privately.

  ‘To get me out of your way!’ Tostig spun from his brother and addressed himself to Edward. ‘He knows I am your favourite and dreads that you will nominate me as your heir when he would have the throne himself!’

  The King recognized this to be true. Harold Godwinsson was too much like his sire to find favour with Edward. But much as he liked Tostig he knew which of the brothers was the greater power – this was one of his reasons for despatching Tostig north out of harm’s way – and he had not hung on to his position by being stupid. ‘You are too impetuous, my friend, and tired from your hunting expedition.’ The long thin face urged reason. ‘Let us see what your brother can do first to quell the uprising.’

  So Harold set out to meet the rebels at Northampton. Meanwhile Sigurd, having reached Lunden, laid low to rethink his position and also to hear the result of Harold’s efforts. By the time Harold returned Sigurd was fully recuperated and dashed to the palace for enlightenment.

  Godwinsson bore only an ultimatum: the rebels had been respectful but adamant. Under no circumstances would they have Tostig back as Earl. He had abused his position and unless the King dismissed his favourite, the northerners would attack the King himself. To press this point they had marched south and were now at Oxnaford.

  Edward threw himself into a frenzy and ordered Harold to return north with his army and wipe out the offenders. ‘They shall not tell me how to rule my kingdom!’ He had turned crimson and appeared to be on the verge of apoplexy.

  Harold did not fear the King’s tantrums. ‘My lord, they have a worthy case. One rash act could plunge the whole country into war.’

  Standing amongst the collection of lesser nobles, Sigurd held back his opinion, listening to the King’s ranting and Tostig’s whines.

  ‘My lord, he exaggerates!’ said the deposed Earl. ‘Let me take an army and I will soon put them down for their impudence against their King.’

  Harold spoke again. ‘If you grant my brother’s wish, oh lord, then I must tell you that I cannot be party to the slaughter of fellow Englishmen.’

  Edward’s mouth was rimmed with spittle. ‘You would disobey your monarch?’

  Harold was polite. ‘If he has been ill-advised by those who only have their own interest at heart.’

  When Tostig began to abuse his brother, Sigurd decided it was time to come forth. ‘If I might…’

  ‘Be done!’ roared the confused monarch. ‘I will not listen to these squabbles. Tostig, you are most dear to me, you know that, but I cannot afford a war on behalf of one friend… I am compelled to do as those northern wretches ask and banish you. Nay, do not look at me like that! It gives me no pleasure. As soon as the trouble has died down perhaps you can return; until then the northern earldom must go to Morcar.’

  ‘It is mine!’ Sigurd could not help the exclamation. As all eyes turned to the old man he moderated his tone. ‘My King, I have served Lord Tostig well and have aided each of the earls of Northumbria over fifty years. I know the people, know the country, I have brought many riches to your own coffers. If Earl Tostig is to be cruelly deposed,’ he thought it prudent to keep on Tostig’s side for the moment, ‘let me serve in his proxy until it is right for him to return.’

  ‘The people did not ask for you, they asked for Morcar.’ Edward’s bloodshot eyes focused on the man who had been a constant irritation since his own reign had begun, and thereby found a scapegoat for the current problems. ‘I wonder why, if you lead them so well, do they not mention your name? I will tell you, Ealdorman Sigurd: it is because they recognize as I do that you are much to blame for many of their ills – more so than Earl Tostig. He was a stranger to the north and was ignorant of how to handle his thegns, but you know them well, should have advised him more carefully. It is therefore only right and proper that if I am to expel Lord Tostig then the cause of his downfall must go too – and go now.’

  In all the years that Sigurd
had nurtured his blood-feud with Ethelred’s kin, never had he hated any of them as much as at this moment, but with his immediate expulsion there was no chance of redress. Mildryth – what would happen to her in his absence? The answer was unbearable. Do not do it, Til, I beg you. Do not dare to take her.

  Whilst Tostig sought shelter with his wife’s kinsman Baldwin, Count of Flanders, Sigurd made for Norway with one aim in mind: to prompt another great invasion of England. This time Ethelred’s line would be totally annihilated – others would be made to pay, too.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The news of both tyrants’ exile was greeted with celebration in Jorvik, and no citizen was more glad than Mildryth whose prediction had been realized; she carried Til’s child. They had wed immediately after their release by the thegns, eager to grasp every loving moment before Lord Sigurd came to take his revenge. Then the miracle had occurred: King Edward had banished his ealdorman and with him went the terror. Asketil had sworn fealty to the new Earl, Morcar, and in doing so had won for himself the position that Sigurd had forfeited. The young ealdorman and his wife continued to reside at Earlsburh where, in the absence of its previous owner, the house had lost its edge of danger. It was a happy place with much music and easy laughter. If, during this sociability a fight should break out due to an excess of ale, Asketil would not exact a fine as had the despot, but instead had the miscreants ejected until they had slept off their drunkenness. Only if Mildryth was insulted did he punish them, but few would insult the mistress of the house who was very popular around Jorvik for her acts of charity.

  Yet Asketil’s happiness was tinged, for was his residence here not just another betrayal of the man who had loved him? Mildryth tried to eliminate his guilt. ‘You are a good leader! You hold the people’s respect. Lord Sigurd deserved his fate.’

  But his bond with Sigurd was too tightly knotted to be so easily shrugged off. ‘If I were granted one wish,’ he told Mildryth as she comforted him with a goblet of mead, ‘it would be that my father would forgive me.’