by M J Porter
He’d seen enough of war in his lifetime.
“And tell me about my brother? I know what your father thinks, but I’m curious to know your opinions as well.”
Leofric didn’t miss the worried look from his son, but there was little else to do but tell the truth. Leofric had when he’d been asked the same question.
Ælfgar stayed silent, his mouth opening and closing as he decided what to say.
“In all honesty, Lord Edward, I find your half-brother much changed from the boy I once knew. I know it was a long time ago, but still, sometimes I think he’s an entirely different person. He’s not quick to smile or share a confidence. To me, it feels as though he wishes no one to know his true feelings.”
Leofric arched an eyebrow at his son’s words. It was a question he’d never asked Ælfgar before, and the depths of the response showed that it clearly worried Ælfgar.
Lord Edward nodded, but not in agreement, after all, he’d never met Harthacnut. It was the action of someone storing away the information he was learning.
“I take it you don’t much like this ‘new’ Harthacnut?”
“I hardly know him, in all honesty. I’d like to, but as I said, Harthacnut doesn’t encourage such closeness.”
“It seems my half-brother is as alone as I’ve always been, well, apart from my brother and my sister.”
“How is Countess Godgifu?” Ælfgar hoped to change the subject, that much was clear from his question, and Ralph half opened his mouth to speak but then closed it again.
“My sister has been widowed and married again. Her new husband seems to be to her taste, although he’s substantially younger. Of course, she and my nephew have been helpful toward me. And Ralph here has come with me, to England, to meet my half-brother, and see to his mother’s lands, in Buckinghamshire.”
Leofric had taken an instant liking to Ralph. He was not much younger than Ælfgar, and while his brother ruled the Vexin, Ralph had followed his mother to Bolougne when she’d taken a new husband. And from there, it seemed he’d staked future on supporting Lord Edward. It was perhaps the wisest course of action for a youth who had no expectation of inheriting land from his brother.
“Tell me of Buckinghamshire,” Ralph asked Ælfgar when the conversation lulled.
“It’s part of Mercia, and so I know it well,” Ælfgar confirmed. “There’s good farming land in Buckinghamshire.”
Now Lord Edward turned to Leofric, a gleam in his eye.
“Tell me, what news did your son bring you that has so dented your enthusiasm for my return.”
Leofric startled. He’d not realised that Lord Edward had been aware of anything other than the solid ground beneath their feet.
“The death of the Earl of Bamburgh.”
“That troubles you?”
“It troubles me because it seems to have been murder, and I’m not content to allow murder in Mercia. There are rules, and they must be obeyed. Already, two men have been murdered in Worcester this year, the king’s reeves, although on that occasion it was by some Welsh men who took advantage of a difficult situation.”
“The murder of the Earl of Bamburgh is something similar?” Lord Edward asked, but Leofric was shaking his head, while he noted out of the corner of his eye, that Lady Emma had entered the hall, and was hiding in the far shadows of the gloom. That gave him some solace. He hadn’t liked the thought of her being all but alone outside, with night coming.
“I don’t know enough. But I always worry when men are murdered for no reason. I’ll have to investigate further.”
“And take your findings to the king?”
Leofric glanced sharply at Lord Edward, considering this might be a test of his loyalties.
“I’m merely the king’s earl. If the matter is not one I’m able to resolve alone, then yes, the king will be informed.”
Lord Edward grunted softly in response and lapsed into silence.
Leofric turned his head again, ensuring that Lady Emma was genuinely hidden from the sight of Lord Edward. He wasn’t in the mood for any ugly confrontations.
They would come, no doubt, when he next saw Harthacnut at Hurst Spit.
Chapter 14
AD1041
Leofric
Leofric surprised himself by sleeping soundly, while beyond the wooden walls of the hall that he’d sheltered within, the storm had raged throughout much of the night. Slowly, the wind had worked its way around the coastline of England. No doubt, there were some worried faces in Hurst Spit, where Lord Edward had been due to arrive, but there had seemed no reason to send word to the king the previous night, not when they expected to arrive the next day.
A day late was of no great concern where the petulant sea was concerned.
When he woke, the first thing Leofric noticed was that the wind had died down. He sighed with contentment. He was keen to fulfil his obligations to the king and return to Coventry. He knew he was needed there.
After a quick meal of dried bread and cheese, Lord Edward and Ralph took their leave from the reeve of Sandwich, and alongside Leofric and the rest of the shipmen, returned to the calm sea.
Leofric had taken the time to seek a moment with Lady Emma. Her face had been drawn, her sleep clearly more disturbed than his had been.
“The king didn’t tell me the plan was to meet at Hurst Spit. I came to Sandwich thinking that Harthacnut would be here and that I could reconcile with both of my sons.” Her eyes were shadowed, but Leofric refused to comment on how red they looked. Had she wept all night? He hoped not.
“I’m powerless to intercede between you and the king. In fact, I feel as helpless as you do where he’s concerned. Have you heard of the murder of Earl Eadwulf?”
If her face could have turned any whiter, it did then, and Leofric tucked away that piece of information as well. Not only was she excluded from her son’s life, but she was also kept ignorant of his actions as well.
“By the Scots?”
“No, by Earl Siward, under a safe passage, provided by your son, and with his connivance.”
“What?”
“Your son has turned to murdering the earls he doesn’t like, just like his father used to.” Leofric struggled to keep his voice low.
A touch on his arm had him looking down, into eyes filled with sympathy.
“I’m sorry, Earl Leofric. I genuinely am. I wish I could assist you, and I’m sure you wish you could help me, but we’re both pariahs at the moment. So, we must do what we always do and just find a way to survive. Until better times.” Leofric startled at her words.
“I’ll visit you when I can,” Leofric stated. “It won’t be soon. I must deal with problems in Mercia.”
Lady Emma nodded, her eyes straying toward the waiting ships.
“Travel safely,” she offered, before resolutely turning away. Leofric followed her steps and saw that Lady Emma had five people with her, and they waited now, with a spare mount, no doubt to return to Winchester.
If Harthacnut had noted her absence, there would be questions. He didn’t want to be the one to inform the king of where she’d been.
Ælfgar had also taken leave of his father, turning his single mount back toward Hurst Spit. Leofric would have chastised him for travelling alone, but like Lady Emma, his absence could have been noted by the king. By leaving his men behind, it might have masked his absenteeism.
“A deep sigh,” Orkning had stayed out of the awkwardness of the night before, by deciding he needed to stay with the ship’s captain. Leofric eyed him with fondness. He refused to be angry with him, but couldn’t deny a slither of jealousy.
“It’s all far too complicated,” Leofric complained. “The king, his mother, his brother, the future, Bamburgh, Earl Siward and that doesn’t even take into account bloody Earl Godwine. Who knows what he’s up to?”
“Nothing good,” Orkning offered unhelpfully, his arm high to shield his eyes against the glow from the summer.
“It looks clear this morning,” Orkni
ng confirmed, as though the conversation was about the weather and not politics.
“We should arrive in good time.”
“Yes, we should, and then we can see how Harthacnut will react to his brother.”
“I think we can predict that. He’ll be as coolly pleasant as he is to anyone he doesn’t outright hate.”
“But he’ll take him into his confidences?”
“I think we can say that he won’t. Why would he? If he truly anticipates his death, then he won’t want to do anything that eases his brother’s kingship. After all, Harald did nothing for Harthacnut. These brothers, all sharing mothers or fathers, are not kind to each other. Far from it.”
Leofric sighed once more, and Orkning had the ill-grace to laugh heartily.
“You can’t do anything about it. So there’s no point worrying about it.”
“If only I shared your outlook on life,” Leofric snarled.
Orkning chuckled once more before lapsing into silence.
Leofric’s gaze settled on Lord Edward. He was settled on one of the ship’s captain’s chests that contained the products of his bartering, deep in conversation with Ralph. The two men seemed far more settled, now the sea was so much calmer, but Leofric was pensive.
He’d witnessed Lord Edward greeting his mother, and it seemed as though that relationship was even more strained than the one between Harthacnut and Lady Emma. Lord Edward would certainly not be concerning himself with her sidelining.
But whereas Harthacnut had his Danish advisors, led by Lords Beorn and Otto, Lord Edward had only Ralph. And Ralph was a young man with only his mother’s English properties to support him. Lord Edward would be viewed by the ambitious nobility of England as easy prey, and at the moment there seemed to be two ambitious men, Earls Godwine and Siward. And there were others, who weren’t earls, who’d like to think they had the possibility of obtaining such a title. Osgot Clapa sprang most readily to mind.
Would Harthacnut realise this, and take Lord Edward as a highly favoured member of the court to prevent losing control over him, or would he also try and dismiss him? After all, no man ever liked to consider what would happen when his own life was at an end. Cnut had proved that aptly.
Leofric growled with frustration, his thoughts turning to Earl Siward. The new king of the Scots was proving to be far more competent than the previous one, but still, Leofric had not thought that King Macbethad Mac Findlaich was such a significant threat that is occasioned the murder of the earl of Bamburgh? Or, maybe it was nothing to do with the kingdom of the Scots, but more to do with Earl Siward’s expectations now that he’d married into the family.
Maybe Earl Siward was just impatient.
Leofric was almost pleased to hear the cry that they were close to Hurst Spit. If he squinted against the glare of the water, he could see the few buildings emerging from the land. Leofric turned to inform Lord Edward, but he’d already been alerted. Now his eyes faced only forward.
Leofric hadn’t initially understood why Harthacnut had chosen this as his meeting place with his brother, but Lord Edward had nodded, as though expecting it.
“We left from there. It seems only right that I formally renter the kingdom from the same place.”
Leofric had merely nodded while he considered that it was a cruel decision. Harthacnut, maliciously or not, was ensuring his brother was reminded that he’d been an exile.
As the ship glided into the harbour, much smaller than the one at Sandwich, Leofric glanced around, trying to keep track of who else had made the journey with Harthacnut. He was unsurprised to find Earl Godwine amongst the masses, and the two archbishops as well. Earl Siward’s absence was notable. In contrast, Earl Hrani, even as feeble as he’d become since the attack on Worcester, was there, stood rigidly upright. Leofric was aware of just what it cost Earl Hrani to do so. Earl Thuri had come as well. So it was only Earl Siward who was missing.
“My Lord,” Leofric indicated that Lord Edward should step from the ship in front of him when they reached the shore. Further along the harbour, Harthacnut stood waiting to greet his brother, surrounded by a number of his household warriors.
“You will make the introductions?” Lord Edward asked uneasily, his eyes focused on his brother, as though he might bolt even at this late stage.
“I will, My Lord,” Leofric would have liked to offer further words of caution, but he didn’t honestly know what Harthacnut would do on seeing Lord Edward.
“Then, come and you Ralph. Let’s meet the King of England.”
With only the faintest wobble, as they made the transition from sea to land, Leofric deferentially led the king’s brother to his side. As he went, Leofric met the eyes of Earl Godwine, detecting something in them, whether the predatory glare of a wolf or the cowed deference of a prey animal, Leofric wasn’t sure.
“My Lord King,” Leofric bowed before his king, focusing on the king’s boots, and trying to empty his mind.
“You may rise,” Harthacnut’s bland voice gave the instruction slowly, almost unwillingly.
Leofric offered a sharp bow of his head when he stood.
“I would introduce you to Lord Edward, My Lord King, your brother. And Ralph, his nephew.” For such a short introduction, Leofric had spent a ridiculous amount of time determining the correct words.
Harthacnut stood, striding forward to welcome his brother. Leofric was as surprised as Lord Edward when the king immediately embraced him. The movement looked far from natural to Leofric’s critical eye, and yet he admired the king all the same.
Harthacnut’s unease at having his brother in England could have made the meeting awkward. That the king had chosen a different approach spoke volumes of his need.
As Harthacnut stood back, his hands slipped to his brother’s, and he grasped them, the hands of a warrior seeming to swallow those of a man who’d never fought in battle.
“I’m pleased to finally meet you, brother,” the word was offered with hesitation. Harthacnut’s lip almost quirked into a smile at the awkwardness.
“Yes, I am your brother, and you are mine. And this,” Harthacnut’s gaze had settled on Ralph, a twitch of one eyebrow the only indication that the king had detected any family resemblance in Ralph. “Must be your nephew?”
“My sister’s son, yes, this is Ralph. His brother is the Count of Vexin.”
A rare flicker of amusement played around Harthacnut’s lips.
“Then you’re both welcome to England as members of my extended family. I had worried you were lost in yesterday’s storm?”
Leofric had been anticipating the question, but still, he knew his answer would infuriate his king.
“We were blown off course. We spent the night in Sandwich, and returned here today.”
Leofric knew it wouldn’t be the fact that they’d been blown off course that would upset Harthacnut, but where they’d ended up. After all, Harthacnut had made his triumphant return to England at Sandwich.
“Well, at least you survived,” Harthacnut conceded with more grace than Leofric expected.
“I would thank you, and your men, Lord Leofric, for ensuring the safety of my brother and my nephew. And now, I would introduce you to my archbishops and some of my earls. And then we’ll hold a feast, to celebrate your arrival. It will be better than anything you received last night,” and there was the stab of complaint that Leofric had been expecting.
Leofric bowed, pleased to be dismissed from Harthacnut’s service, if only for a few moments.
“I too would thank Lord Leofric for travelling to Bolougne and escorting me home. But I’ve nothing to gift him with, would you, as my brother, allow me the means to offer such a token?”
Harthacnut visibly startled at the words, while Lord Edward watched his brother calmly. For all Lord Edward’s fears, now that he’d arrived, Leofric found himself pleasantly surprised by his staunch attitude.
“I will, certainly. We’ll discuss such matters while we eat, and then you can inform Lord Leofric o
f your decision.”
Lord Edward’s eyes flickered from Leofric to Harthacnut, as though he would say something else, but chose to subside. Leofric bowed and turned to walk away, keen to remove himself from the scrutiny of two men who might do his family great harm in the future, as well as great good.
Leofric was genuinely torn between two men now, who probably wouldn’t like each other much, but who he’d need to remain on good terms with. He was sure it wouldn’t end well. Not when his loyalty to Lady Emma was also so well known.
While the press of people moved on, surrounding Harthacnut and his brother, Leofric stepped to one side. He was keen to ensure the ships were able to make their way from Hurst Spit easily and quickly. The harbour here was too small for six boats of such a size, but the king had been adamant on the location for meeting his brother, and also that six ships would be needed. It meant they all needed to head back out to sea to find a suitable mooring.
In the distance, the outline of the Isle of Wight could be seen, and Leofric hazarded a guess that the ships might go there first. There was a vast harbour there, and it was a quiet sea. His ship’s captain would be thinking of lucrative trading to be done.
“That went well,” Orkning joined Leofric, hauling their possessions on his back, squinting into the sunlight.
“Well, it could have gone worse.”
“Yes, but also better.”
“You’re in a difficult mood these days,” Leofric complained, wishing Orkning would say something to soothe his worries.
“They’re are difficult days, and I feel no need to pretend they’re not.” Orkning’s reply was acerbic, but far from contrary.
“At least I can rely on you, to be honest, I suppose,” Leofric grumbled, while Orkning laughed.
“At least? It’s more than you get from any other member of the witan. Look at Earl Godwine, damn the bastard, I would happily wipe that smirk from his face.”
Leofric looked to where Orkning pointed with his chin, and sighed in frustration, running his hand through his wind-roughened hair, grimacing at the feel of the salt that had dried in it and made it feel hard to the touch.
