by M J Porter
Harthacnut growled at the words, reaching for a beaker of water from which he sipped with a wince.
“When you explain it in such a way, it seems that I win either way. But truly, Earl Leofric, if you impoverish yourself, I’ll not assist you.”
“I’ve never asked for your assistance. And if you ruin me, then you’ll lose control of Mercia, but that, My Lord King, is not what brought me to your side today.”
Harthacnut continued to glare at Leofric, but again, he made no reply.
“What do you want, then?”
“To know what happened to Earl Eadwulf.”
Abruptly, Harthacnut seemed to come awake, his keen eyes searching Leofric, as though appraising him.
“What of Earl Eadwulf? He’s dead, and Earl Siward will rule Bamburgh alongside Northumbria from now on.”
“I want to know why he was murdered.” Leofric had considered his questions carefully in the long weeks he’d waited to speak alone with Harthacnut.
“No doubt it was the Welsh or the Scots,” Harthacnut tried to deflect.
“Or Earl Siward’s household warriors.” Leofric pulled from his pocket the small object found beside the bodies by his son during the summer, clearly showing a depiction of a crow.
Harthacnut’s eyes narrowed as they focused on the shape.
“Where did you get this?” Curiosity coloured his question.
“From the mass gravesite of Earl Eadwulf’s men. They’d been stripped naked, and tumbled into one grave without the holy rites. What happened to Earl Eadwulf’s body is a mystery.”
“What were you doing in Northumbria?” The curiosity had vanished to be replaced by words edged with fury.
“I wasn’t in Northumbria. The murder took place in Mercia.”
Harthacnut looked perplexed.
“Then how do you know these naked men were the dead from an attack on Earl Eadwulf?”
Leofric hesitated. He didn’t wish to endanger the life of the survivor, but unless Leofric spoke of him, Harthacnut would continue to deny the truth.
“A survivor made himself known to my son, and led him to the ambush site.”
Leofric thought to look away from the dawning realisation on Harthacnut’s face, not wishing to see how corrupt his king had become, but he couldn’t help himself. There was a sick sense of satisfaction in undoing Harthacnut’s plans and watching him realise.
“And you think I had a part to play in this travesty? If it’s true, I’ll have Earl Siward stand trial for his crimes.”
“But he’ll name you, My Lord King. Again, there is a survivor. He heard much that I’m sure you’d rather had never been known.”
“Then what have you come here for? Why do you wish to speak to me when you know so much? Make it public. Ensure everyone knows. You’ve never felt compelled to keep secrets in the past.”
Leofric flinched at the bark in Harthacnut’s voice but held steady.
“I think you discredit me, My Lord King. I kept many secrets, for your father most especially, and also for your half-brother, and also for your mother. There’s much I know that you’re ignorant of.”
“So you think to threaten me. What do you want? The kingdom for yourself?” Whatever had been befuddling Harthacnut’s mind had lifted, and Leofric faced a worthy opponent.
“I would ask for clarity as to your intentions toward England. If you meant her so much harm, then why did you even come here? Surely you would have been happier in Denmark.”
“My father left England to my rule. I fulfil his ambitions for his family.”
“And yet you make no provision for an heir, other than your half-brother, who’s not your father’s child.”
“I’ll marry,” Harthacnut all but spat at Leofric, but the words were hollow.
“You’ll not marry, My Lord King. And if you did, I understand the potential for you to have a child doesn’t exist. So tell me, what is it that you plan for England?”
Harthacnut leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on Leofric, his intelligent gaze almost smouldering.
“All men are only gifted so much time on this earth. What we choose to do in that time is for us to decide upon.”
“Not when you’re a king, of not one, but two countries. In Denmark, your cousin rules in your name. You’ve long allowed him into your confidence. In England, you’ve only just addressed your lack, and even now, I know that you keep Lord Edward far from the business of running the kingdom. Is it your intention that England falters and fails?”
“I intend only to rule England, as my father wished.”
“Your father wished you to rule in Denmark, and your half-brother to rule in England. His grand plan was for each of his three sons to have their own kingdom to rule. He didn’t foresee any of you following in his footsteps. He didn’t think that any of you were capable of being the emperor that he was.” Leofric’s voice dripped with scorn. This moment had been building for some time, and he was pleased it was finally upon him.
“How would you know my father’s intentions? You were not his favourite earl, in fact, far from it. Didn’t he kill your own brother?”
“He did, yes, as everyone knows. Alongside the real traitor, Ealdorman Eadric. But, your father and I had long reached an accommodation before his death. And I know his true intentions where no else does because he told them to me.”
Leofric thought back to that day. It felt so long ago. His king had been a man who’d known his end was coming. And more, had known that there’d be problems because of it.
In his mind, Leofric replayed the conversation he’d shared with Cnut.
“My wife, the Queen,” Cnut had swallowed thickly, “believes the kingdom should fall to Harthacnut, but of course, he faces war in Denmark, and he knows his duty to the House of Gorm. Denmark first, England is but second to the House of Gorm, but not to others. I understand that too.”
Cnut had spoken with the experience of a man who’d spent his adult life juggling twin responsibilities. Both to the land of his birthright and the territory he’d conquered in battle, subjugated to his will by the sheer power of his magnetism and determination.
“Then who, my Lord King?”
“The ‘who’ rather depends on my Earls; you, Siward and Godwine, and of course those of my former Earls who still hold some power in Mercia – Hrani, and Hakon’s widow and her new husband. Earl Godwine will want Harthacnut. He’s little respect for Harald, in that he thinks like the Queen.” Bitterness had tinged Cnut’s voice when he’d spoken of Earl Godwine.
“I believe Earl Siward will welcome continuity and good leadership, but I see him so rarely it’s hard to tell. Many will assume the Queen and Earl Godwine will be the people to lead England until Harthacnut can extract himself from Denmark.”
“But I’m not the many?” Leofric had asked softly.
“You’re not the many,” Cnut had agreed with finality, his gaze returned to Leofric.
“I’d die happier knowing that my other son is not abandoned, that he’ll at least have some consideration upon my death. He does deserve that. I could only wish that Swein were not dead already.”
“Then you should make your wishes known, have a will drawn up that reflects your desires,” Leofric had spoken harshly, the weight of the king’s onerous task already pressing down on him.
“I should yes, but I will not, and cannot. I ask this of you instead. It might well cause ‘problems’, but I trust you to handle them with your usual effectiveness.” Cnut had spoken calmly, as though it were a simple matter, and yet the king had also known that his request was not an easy one to make.
“You would pitch me against the Queen and Earl Godwine?” Leofric had replied, just for clarity and just to ensure he’d understood the king’s demands on him.
“I would have you do what you’ve always done, no matter what.”
“And what exactly is that?” Leofric had probed. His sadness replaced by a slow-burning rage.
“You’ve always done the �
�right’ thing, just as your father before you, and often despite your own personal preferences. You’re a rare man, Earl Leofric, a very rare man. Few can put the good of the kingdom, and others above the good of themselves. Few would even consider it necessary, especially amongst the nobility.”
“A back-handed compliment, if ever I heard one,” Leofric had grumbled, and Cnut had surprised him again.
“It’s the highest compliment I can give a man. I only wish I’d known more men like yourself. I was always a warrior who wanted to be king, never a king who wanted to be a warrior: a strange distinction but one I’ll make all the same.”
“Warriors seek personal gain and treasure, the funds to raid once more, to destroy others, to profit from that destruction. A king should only do that when there’s no other option. In another life, Leofric, you would have been an excellent ruler, but not in this life. In this life, you’ve helped me try and be a better man, and as such, a better king.”
Leofric had been surprised by the vehemence in Cnut’s voice.
“Your father swore an oath to my father to make me king, and he did so even though he was already oath sworn to King Æthelred, and somehow, he managed to honour all of his pledges.”
“I would lay the same on you. Harthacnut must be king after me, but he will not be for some time, maybe not even during your lifetime. But Harald can be king in his place. You can make that happen, and all without me enduring the final months of what life I have left listening to Earl Godwine and Queen Emma persuading me otherwise. I trust you with this.”
As he’d spoken, Cnut’s lower lip had trembled with emotion. Leofric had swallowed thickly, pleased to be distracted by Cnut’s horse, Blue, lowering himself to the ground, letting his hooves fly as he’d scratched his long, sinuous back on the undergrowth.
“Stupid bloody horse,” Cnut had choked on tears, as Leofric had stayed quiet, lost in thought.
The horse had rolled from side to side, his hooves high and mobile.
“In the end,” Cnut had said, his voice soft and filled with emotion, “we’re all the same and crave only to be welcomed and accepted by everyone, even kings. And in the end, even kings are only men, and they will die and leave a tarnished legacy without the aid of their friends and allies to ensure everything is as it should be.”
With the words spoke, Cnut had turned to walk away, seemingly not waiting for Leofric’s reply, as though he already knew that Leofric would refuse.
“You have my oath,” Leofric had called after Cnut, unwilling to allow the conversation to end with such uncertainty.
“My thanks, old friend. England needs an earl of her own,” Cnut had said sadly, and that had been the final time the pair of them had spoken.
It felt like three lifetimes ago, and not the handful of years it had truly been. Cnut had left a mess behind after his death. His reign had started in disarray and ended in it as well. Perhaps, after all, Leofric’s father had erred in ensuring Cnut became king after the death of King Æthelred. Would it not have been better if Edmund Ironside had ruled? But then, Edmund had died only months later, and there had really been no other choice but to accept Cnut.
“Your father made me swear an oath to support you and Harald in your bid for the kingship of England. He would not have thanked you for trying to make war on Harald.”
Harthacnut’s face hovered somewhere between rage and acceptance. Leofric thought he’d never seen such emotion on the usually bland face of the king, and he was surprised by Harthacnut’s next words.
“Then, if you shared that conversation with my father, I would burden you with my own.”
“I will die soon. It’s been foretold since I was a child. My aunt will tell no one of the event and has even tried to convince me that it was nothing but a dream, but I know it wasn’t. The seer sought me out, came to me when I was but a child, and warned me that I would not live to see my father’s kingdom fall apart. He told me I was cursed by an illness, which made no sense to me at the time, as I was well, but that this illness would kill me.”
“Ever since that day, I’ve been careful and wary. I’ve refused to come into contact with any who are ill, and yet on my twentieth birthday, the tremors began, and they’ve only become worse since.”
“I know you aren’t a foolish man. I know you’d deciphered this for yourself. Then know this truth. I‘ll be the last of my father’s line in England, and before I die, I’ll have all that she owes me, and I’ll take back the parts of England that should never have been allowed their independence.”
“If my father truly wanted my half-brother to be king of England, then he erred and made a mockery of the position. I should have been England’s king, since the day of my father’s death. And my mother knows that, and so do I.”
Leofric nodded, far from happy with Harthacnut’s words.
“If you die and leave England open to attack, then you’ll have brought about the demise of your father’s kingdom.” Leofric needed to say the words. As much as it pained him to have the young man speak so bleakly, Leofric couldn’t allow Harthacnut to use his fears to harm England.
“It little matters. I know it will crumble, just as much as I know when these attacks will happen. The words of the seer will all be proven to be true, and my father’s kingdom will collapse, and my mother’s son will rule after my death.” Harthacnut’s lips curled with disgust at the thought.
“King Æthelred was a weak king. I hope Edward proves to be the same, and that my cousin Svein claims England through military might. I would welcome him to kill as many of the English as he needs to in order to keep control here.”
“Then, truly, you have no love for the English?”
“I’ve never had any love for the English or my mother, but it’s not stopped me from laying claim to both. You’re an unwise man, Earl Leofric if you think that love is even relevant in the act of governing.”
Leofric sat back in his chair, his fingers laced before him, as he considered Harthacnut and what he now knew about him.
“So you came here to destroy, and you mean to destroy the English, your mother, and your half-brother?”
“I will if the opportunity presents itself. My mother has lived a long life, and my half-brother is blessed with good health if no kingdom. And the English are a curse to be born.”
Leofric stood abruptly. He’d heard enough of Harthacnut’s malicious words.
“Then I pledge this oath to you, My Lord King. I’ll do all in my power to counter the threat you pose to the kingdom of England, the kingdom your grandfather and father did so much damage to when they conquered it. And I’ll look forward to the day when the House of Gorm has no more power over me or the English people.”
With a curt nod of his head, Leofric left the king’s presence without seeking permission to do so. His blood ran hot, and yet he felt calm.
Leofric knew more about Harthacnut than anyone else, and he could begin to plan for when Harthacnut would be dead, for if the seer was correct, and Harthacnut wouldn’t live to see his father’s empire crumble, then that death must be soon.
Anglo-Saxon Chronicle Entry for AD1041
This year was the tribute paid; that was twenty-one thousand pounds and ninety-nine pounds. And after that they paid to thirty-two ships, eleven thousand and forty-eight pounds. This year Harthacnut caused all Worcestershire to be ravaged, on account of his two household servants, who demanded the heavy impost; when the people slew them in the town within the minster.
This year, soon after, came from beyond sea Edward, his brother on the mother's side, King Æthelred’s son, who before for many years had been driven from his country; and yet was he sworn king: and he then abode thus in his brother's family while he lived.
And in this year also Harthacnut betrayed Eadwulf the earl of Bamburgh while under his protection: and he became then a pledge breaker.
And this year bishop Æthelric was ordained at York, on the 3rd before the Ides of January.
Chapter 17
/>
AD1042
Leofric
Nothing changed. It was that which forced Leofric to reconsider his actions of the year before.
Lady Emma stayed out of favour with Harthacnut. While Lord Edward was slowly being integrated into his brother’s court, he remained awkward in his interactions. Leofric found it to be endearing but doubted that anyone else thought the same.
Leofric watched carefully as the earls and lords intermingled with the king. Earl Siward was more often than not absent from the infrequent witans, while Earl Godwine remained unsure of his position. It seemed that neither of the other two earls knew of Harthacnut’s condition. Leofric was unsurprised.
It was masked well. If Leofric hadn’t known to pay attention, he wouldn’t have realised that Harthacnut’s illnesses were routine. And that the king’s absences from court were always managed carefully by the Danish men he surrounded himself with, under the supervision of Lords Beorn and Otto.
Leofric had thought to contact Lady Estrid about her nephew’s condition but had decided against it. There was no need for her to know he knew. It would strain their relationship, especially as she was already aware. Or so Leofric decided. Messengers between the English and Danish court had grown in volume in the last year. Harthacnut might explain it as how he kept abreast of the situation in Denmark, but Leofric also suspected it was how he received whatever herbs had been decided would help him most.
Denmark was settled under Svein Estridsson. England was not under Harthacnut. Yet, Harthacnut, while determined his Danish men should govern England for him, had not sought to impose them in permanent positions. When Earl Thuri died after sustaining an injury falling from his horse, Harthacnut allowed his lands to be swallowed up by Leofric. As much as Lord Beorn Estridsson might have hungered for them, Harthacnut refused to allow the earldom to pass to him.
It didn’t help Leofric’s relationship with Lady Estrid’s son, not at all.
