Viking King

by M J Porter

  Viking King

  The Earls of Mercia Book IX

  By MJ Porter

  Copyright notice

  Porter, M J

  Viking King

  Copyright ©2019, Porter, M.J, Amazon edition

  All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent buyer.

  Cover design by MJ Porter

  Cover image by Illustration 136571441 © Vlastas - Dreamstime.com

  Contents

  Title Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Anglo Saxon Chronicle Entry for AD1040

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Anglo-Saxon Chronicle Entry for AD1041

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Anglo-Saxon Chronicle Entry for AD1042

  Historical Notes

  Cast of Characters

  Meet the Author

  Chapter 1

  Summer AD1040

  Leofric

  Leofric took his place in the royal procession, unease his most prominent feeling.

  Harthacnut’s coronation should have been a time of celebration, but instead, Leofric would rather have been anywhere but there. Did he genuinely wish to witness the ceremony that would make Harthacnut king of the English?

  Harthacnut had only arrived in England a week ago, and in the intervening time there had been nothing but awkward meetings, and harsh complaints from the new king, always surrounded by those of his ship’s captains who’d remained in England, his cousin Beorn Estridsson, and Lord Otto.

  Leofric saw none of his father in Harthacnut’s temperament. Far from it. Cnut hadn’t remotely been an easy man to deal with, and he’d made many mistakes. Yet Leofric had always sensed that, in the end, Cnut held genuine affection for England and the English, and even for him, and his family. Despite everything that had happened between them.

  None of that was shown in Harthacnut’s character.

  Leofric didn’t doubt that being king of the Danish would have made Harthacnut a hard man, but the English were different, and always had been. The English needed a singular type of ruler, and already, Leofric knew that Harthacnut was not going to be that man. It was again, something that Cnut had realised during his tenure. Why else would Cnut have sent letters to the ‘English’ during his prolonged absences in Denmark?

  Harthacnut’s regime was proving to be hard and cruel, and officially, Harthacnut was not yet truly the king of the English. That would only come after this ceremony.

  While it might have been accepted that Harthacnut would succeed his father, hereditary succession was still not a given within England. Far from it, in fact.

  In the last century, only King Athelstan had succeeded his father, although not without argument. Edmund Ironside had briefly replaced Æthelred, although he’d spent all of his short reign at war against Cnut.

  So Leofric was forced to ask himself, did he genuinely wish the coronation to go ahead?

  Despite all his promises to Cnut and even to Lady Emma, was Harthacnut the right choice for England? Leofric considered what his father would have done in the same situation.

  Ealdorman Leofwine could have been relied upon to do what was honourable, and what he’d given his oath to do. But, and Leofric wished once more that he was as talented as his father had been, Leofwine had always found a way to resolve such conflicts as this.

  Now, while Leofric wished to enjoy Earl Godwine’s dramatic fall in the new king’s favour, he was unable to. While Earl Godwine scrabbled to win the king’s acclaim, Leofric was plagued with worries that Godwine shouldn’t be wasting his time.

  Their king was not his father, Cnut. Leofric could admit that Harald hadn’t been either. But while Harald had been cruel, his cruelty had not extended to everyone within England, but rather to those who’d made the fatal mistake of loving him. Harald had been formed in an atmosphere of neglect, first his father, and then his mother, and by the time Leofric had been tasked with raising Harald, it had been too late. The character traits that had proved to be so fatal had been deeply embedded.

  Lady Emma had managed to find time to speak with Leofric alone, in the last week. Their reunion had been strained. Leofric would have expected Cnut’s second wife to be crowing with delight that her favoured son was now king. But Lady Emma had looked as haunted as Leofric felt now.

  He’d never seen her so downcast, even when she’d been exiled from England on King Harald’s orders. It shocked him.

  Lady Emma had taken him into her confidence.

  “My son is altered,” Lady Emma had said. “He’s not the child I sent to Denmark to be raised by his aunt, Lady Estrid. He’s not at all the man I thought he would become.”

  Those words had chilled Leofric, but also reinforced his belief that Harthacnut was not the correct man to lead England.

  Not that there was any alternative.

  Well, there was, but Lord Edward was even more of an unknown to the English than Harthacnut.

  Lord Edward had no allies in England, not even his mother, and he was entirely unknown. If it hadn’t been for the murder of Lord Alfred, at the hands of King Harald’s uncle, Lord Ufegat, few would even have remembered that Lady Emma and her first husband had produced two sons and a daughter between them. Only for King Swein to claim England, die soon after, and allow King Æthelred to be reinstated.

  Lady Emma had offered little further, just her worries, but Leofric was no fool. He saw how the king excluded his mother from even eating with him when he feasted his new subjects alongside his Danish allies. Lord Beorn, his cousin, was high in the king’s confidences, as was Lord Otto and three commanders of his invasion fleet, Hakon, Erik and Gundulf.

  And the court was split. The Danish ship-men who’d remained in England were as taciturn as their king. They seemed unwilling to speak to the English men and women, even those who were just as Danish as they were and shared their language.

  Leofric had expected to find an ally in Beorn Estridsson, because of his long-standing friendship with Lady Estrid, but Beorn had rebuffed Leofric’s friendly overtures. Perhaps he didn’t know of the secret correspondence between the English earl and Cnut’s sister, or maybe he didn’t want to know.

  Beorn, after all, was not his mother.

  Leofric thought of Orkning. Perhaps not blessed with the charm of his long-dead father, Orkning was as Danish as they came. But still, not Danish enough for Harthacnut’s men, who insisted on only conversing in Danish and made no effort to understand the English of the court. They called for food and ale in Danish, and the servants had been forced to learn quickly what the new words all meant or face being punished by the impatient men.

  With so many worries, Leofric found the position of standard-bearer to his king in the imminent coronation ceremony, difficult to reconcile with his feelings.

  In the past, Leofric would have thrilled to be honoured in such a way by his king. Now it felt more like a punishment. He�
�d not served at Cnut’s coronation ceremony, and he’d merely witnessed King Harald’s. This was the first time he’d been included amongst the notable men who would serve the king. Still, it was not the auspicious occasion Leofric had always imagined it would be, not while he was weighed down with worries and concerns.

  Even Earl Godwine, in all his finery, his long, black hair neatly braided in the way of the Danish, looked far from happy. Leofric was unsurprised but unable to enjoy it.

  Following Harthacnut’s coronation ceremony at Kingston upon Thames, he’d made it known that the witan would be held to take advantage of so many people being in one place at the same time. Significant matters of state would be discussed. Leofric expected there to be just as much emphasis on personal revenge as matters of national importance.

  Leofric hoped that he’d done enough to keep the king’s scrutiny from the House of Leofwine. Yes, he wouldn’t deny that he’d supported Harald’s kingship. But, and Leofric knew that Harthacnut would have no idea of the truth, it had only been done on the orders of their father.

  Neither had Leofric supported King Harald alone, Earls Hrani and Eilifr had also decided Harald should be king. While Earl Eilifr was no longer amongst them, dying in the terrible storm the year before, Earl Hrani, while showing his age with his lack of hair, thin beard and thinner moustache, stood proudly beside Leofric, as did Earl Thuri, who’d replaced Eilifr. If Earl Hrani was concerned by his previous actions, he didn’t show it, and Leofric envied the Danish man his lack of introspection.

  Earl Thuri too was uneasy. King Harald had made him an earl. The possibility that Harthacnut would remove him, and perhaps give the place to Beorn, who was Eilifr’s nephew, was a real one. Leofric was unsure of all the details but knew that Harthacnut had reconciled with both of his cousins.

  Glumly, Leofric stood to attention, Harthacnut finally ready in the elaborate procession that would make its way to the front of the church. His thoughts were far from quiet, but he had a duty to perform, and he needed to do it and do it well.

  Harthacnut was dressed simply in a white tunic and dark trousers, his boots polished to a high sheen. But he didn’t come unadorned to the coronation. The wealth of his Danish kingship glistened from the gold and silver arm rings that filled his left arm, from above the wrist, to just below his shoulder, and the three silver ones that lined his right arm. Harthacnut was a warrior. He was making that abundantly clear in showing the wealth he’d acquired in battle.

  The king was a mercurial character; that much had become clear from the onset. He’d taken none of the English men into his council, yet, and his mother was kept at arm’s reach as well. Leofric was keen to earn the regard of Harthacnut, but not at any cost. He didn’t imagine that Earl Godwine would have the same compunction.

  Instead, Harthacnut relied on his own men, most of them ship-men, even though they were strangers to England. Harthacnut thought to impose them over the English people.

  The Danish men had no such links. Leofric feared disaster if Harthacnut persisted with the tact knowing only too well how the same solution had hindered Cnut’s reign. Earls Hrani, Hakon and Eilifr might have earned the regard of the Mercian’s in their earldoms, but it had been a tediously long process.

  As Leofric walked to the front of the assembly, keeping a careful track of where he stood, and when he stepped, so as not to break the procession, his mind swirled back to all the other regime changes he’d witnessed. Æthelred had not been the weak king that Cnut had insisted on presenting him as. Still, Æthelred had been overwhelmed, first by Swein and then by Cnut, dying a shadow of his former self. He’d been unsure who to trust and hampered by his ability to trust the wrong men when he did.

  Æthelred had made poor choices in his choice of ealdormen and policies towards the Danish. However, with the passage of over two decades, Leofric found it impossible to hate Æthelred as much as some still attempted to. The failure hadn’t been just Æthelred’s, it had also been the failure of other men who should have thought of England, and not of themselves.

  Kings Æthelred and Edmund had been no match for the combined might of the Danish men and their allies. Whereas King Harald had been too consumed with the need to be king for himself, rather than for the good of the country. Harald had born the brunt of his abandonment by his father too openly. It had affected every aspect of his childhood.

  And now there was Harthacnut, and once more, Leofric didn’t think that England’s king had any great affection toward the nation he now ruled.

  Leofric was sure that Harthacnut would prove to be a careless king, and not just because of the geld he’d demanded to finance his invasion fleet, but because of his general outlook toward England. It didn’t help that barely a day went by without a messenger arriving from Denmark where Svein Estridsson ruled in the name of his cousin.

  It had taken Harthacnut five years to make his way to England. Leofric imagined he would sooner return to Denmark when he was king than remain in England. It might not be a bad idea. Still, it would only happen if Harthacnut found someone he could truly trust amongst the English, and that person certainly wasn’t his mother or his earls.

  Unlike in Denmark, where Harthacnut trusted his aunt implicitly and now did his cousin, although even that relationship had been strained in the past.

  It made it unlikely that Harthacnut would leave England any time soon. And if he did leave, would he leave his Danish allies ruling England? Would he send Svein Estridsson to rule England in his place, or allow Beorn to rule? Then he could turn his attention toward Magnus of Norway and, with the resources of an affluent England at his command, finally triumph over his adversary.

  Leofric had no idea other than one simple truth; Harthacnut and England was not a match.

  The church at Kingston upon Thames had witnessed many coronations, many more than Leofric, he thought ruefully, a faint smile trying to drive the worry from his mind. This one had not been hastily arranged, there had been months since Harald’s death. Still, it seemed sparse in comparison to previous ceremonies. Leofric even felt as though those in attendance had taken less care than in the past with their appearance.

  While candlelight flared from almost every available surface, and the holy relics and priceless jewels of the church were on prominent display close to the altar or on the high altar, or even in the small side chapels, it felt as though something was missing.

  Was there an undercurrent that Harthacnut would not be the king for long or was it just anger that prevented people from looking genuinely pleased with the coming ceremony?

  Leofric sought out the welcome sight of his family amongst the congregation once he reached the front of the church. They were seated in a place of honour, not far from the king’s mother, and were surrounded by the families of Godwine, Siward, Hrani and Thuri.

  His wife had chosen to attend, and so too had Ælfgar and Elgiva. His family had chosen to wear the symbol of their household in as many prominent ways as possible. It included replica golden crosses that flashed around their necks and the embroidery of the two-headed eagle that stiffened Ælfgar’s tunic and the dresses of Lady Godgifu and Elgiva.

  Next to Ælfgar stood his cousins, Wulfstan and Ælfwine, recently returned from escorting Lady Ælfgifu, Alfifa and her son to Denmark, as well as Leofric’s remaining brother, Godwine and sister, Ealdgyth with her husband, Olaf, and her daughter, Æthelflæd. All of them watched proceedings with interest, but no outward show of pleasure or displeasure. Leofric had summoned them all together, determined to make a good impression on Harthacnut. It also served to remind Lord Godwine that the House of Leofwine didn’t consist merely of Leofric and his solitary son.

  The House of Leofwine, even without his older and younger brother, had command over much of Mercia. Even those areas that had long had to endure the Danish earls as their masters. Only Earl Hrani remained, and he’d been converted to the outlook of the Mercian’s long ago. Earl Thuri seemed to rule well in Eilifr’s old earldom, but he had
often sought advice from Leofric in the intervening months.

  Only the night before the extended family had met in Leofric’s London home at Isleworth to discuss the problems the coronation, and the future would bring for the House of Leofwine. It hadn’t been the easiest of discussions. Godwine Leofwinesson, involved in the negotiations in Bruges for Harthacnut’s return was adamant that a terrible mistake had been made, and wasn’t shy in sharing his thoughts. Lady Godgifu had mainly mirrored them, still in shock that her oldest friend had been forced to flee from England following King Harald’s death.

  Lady Godgifu had been more concerned with speaking to Wulfstan and Ælfwine about how their journey to Denmark had been. Leofric had listened with half an ear, hoping that Ælfgar’s ploy worked and that Harthacnut never knew of what had been done, with the connivance of Lady Estrid.

  Leofric had felt disgruntled but also wary as he’d listened to the many conversations taking place. His family would always speak the truth, even when it made difficult listening.

  For now, the family had decided to bide their time. Past experience had shown that snap decisions were not always the right ones, and it was possible that Harthacnut would surprise them all. After all, there was a line between what the king would like to do in England as opposed to what he was able to do. It was a subtle distinction, and when Ealdgyth had said the words the night before they’d given Leofric a sense of ease that had been missing since King Harald’s death.

  As Archbishop Eadsige began the long service that would see Harthacnut officially elevated to his position as king of the English, Leofric stood to attention alongside Hrani and Thuri. In contrast, Siward and Godwine stood to the other side of the king.

  Harthacnut had personally issued the command that his earls were to present themselves in this way. It was as though he wished it to be known that he became king not just through the right of his father’s wishes, but also with the complete support of England’s four earls. Not because he’d come as a warrior to steal England from her then king.