by M J Porter
Eadrid greeted them, the reeve of Lichfield, looking almost as old and decrepit as Leofwine often felt but his grin of delight was a warming balm for his soul. They might not always have been friends, but for all that, it was nice to be met by a face he knew.
“My Lord Leofwine,” he shouted in greeting, his voice hoarse and shaky, but Leofwine ignored all that and dismounted from his horse in a tangle of legs and arms, bone tired after a day in the saddle. With his two hounds circling his feet, he did wonder if he’d fall on his backside instead of on his feet, but with the help of Healer he made it upright and greeted Eadrid with a full arm clasp of friendship.
“It’s good to see you once more,” Leofwine said, finding he meant the words.
“I would say the same, my Lord. This area is in need of a strong man to rule and govern. Even those who don’t like to pay their taxes are pleased to see you return.”
Eadrid spoke exuberantly, and Leofwine took the time to look at him and Lichfield both. The place seemed little changed, but a decade could have caused untold damage. He hoped the hall was in good condition at least. He’d brought all his family and the majority of his household troop with him; he didn’t want to have to spend the first week or two righting any disrepair the property might have fallen into.
“Don’t fear my Lord,” Eadrid said, catching his glance. “I’ve had the hall examined and repair work undertaken as was deemed necessary but it’s been little used and so apart from some stray thatch and some rotten wood at the rear, there was nothing that needed doing. Come, enter, we’ve prepared food for you.”
Leofwine had noticed the smoke coming from the thatch from some distance away, and his wife had sidled up to him, a gentle smile on her own face as she remembered their less than welcoming reception so many years ago. Even she, he’d noticed, seemed to have left behind the etched lines of grief on her beautiful face. He could almost think that Cnut had done them a favour in giving the land around Gloucester to Eilifr. Perhaps the whole family needed a fresh start, just as the king was getting.
Once inside the hall, he realised that Eadrid had spoken the truth. Little had changed since he and his family had been forced to leave the property.
“He rarely came here,” Eadrid offered by way of explanation and Leofwine nodded in thanks. Perhaps, this time, he and Eadrid would have an easier relationship. Madrid’s next words confirmed it.
“My wife, she died five years ago.”
Leofwine, surprised by his bluntness, turned to offer words of condolence but Eadrid shook his head.
“There’s no need my Lord. I would not speak ill of the dead, but it is easier without her.” Then he grinned. “Much easier. But I’ll leave you to settle in. If you need me send for me, but if not, I’ll attend upon you tomorrow.”
“My thanks, Eadrid,” Leofwine called, and the little fat man smirked with joy.
“It’s my pleasure, my Lord. It’s good to have you back.”
“He seems a changed man,” Æthelflæd muttered into his ear, and Leofwine turned to embrace her. He almost felt as though coming here had removed the burden of the last fifteen years from his shoulders, as though he’d turned back time and found himself young and vigorous again.
“His wife is dead,” he offered, and very uncharacteristically Æthelflæd giggled.
“Well, that would explain it very well. Some women are far too dominating,” she continued, leading her husband to the food awaiting them.
Deerhurst would still be there, no matter the king’s movements and decisions. But to all intents and purposes, Leofwine now ruled Mercia not the lands of the Hwicce, and even then, only some of the old Mercian lands, never all of them. On all sides, men loyal to Cnut, men who’d fought for his kingdom of England would be pressing in on him. Still, Leofwine suddenly found he didn’t mind that quite as much as he’d thought he would. It would be a welcome relief not to be the man making all the decisions for once.
The winter was comforting and warming, his joy compounded by the birth of another grandson, a son for Leofric, named Ælfgar and life suddenly felt good again. Even when he received a summons from the king for an Easter meeting at Kingston Upon Thames, his good mood didn’t immediately evaporate even though the king still had much to make up for. Just because Leofwine felt better in himself, didn’t mean that the king should immediately benefit from his earl’s reawakened sense of duty.
Anglo-Saxon Chronicle For AD1018
This year was the payment of the tribute over all England; that was, altogether, two and seventy thousand pounds, besides that which the citizens of London paid; and that was ten thousand five hundred pounds. The army then went partly to
Denmark; and forty ships were left with King Knute. The Danes and Angles were united at Oxford under Edgar's law.”
Chapter 7
Leofwine
Easter AD1019
Kingston upon Thames
His hounds mingled around his feet, Healer with her gentle eyes and Cyneweard with his more aggressive stance. Somehow they managed to tolerate each other while proving loyal and helpful to him. Cyneweard he could rely on to ensure no one came close to him that he didn’t count as a friend, Healer he could rely on to make sure that he never overtired himself. She could caution him with her eyes as well as his wife could.
Whatever was plaguing the king needed to be resolved as quickly as possible. He had no intention of being apart from his wife for longer than two weeks, and that included travelling time. He felt stronger, braver, but he would not leave his wife alone to face her coming death.
His son sat beside him, straight-backed and just as alert as Cyneweard. Amongst the lesser nobles, Oscetel and Olaf provided the rest of their support, Orkning preferring to mingle amongst the men, many of whom he knew either personally or by stint of being related to them in some obscure way. He was far more valuable outside the Witan than he was inside.
Luckily the king didn’t keep the assembled men and women waiting for long, striding towards the front of the church and taking his place without any preamble. He was dressed sensibly. No gold or silver adorned his clothing or his neck. He looked every inch the conquering king he had been. He also looked as though he meant to have an agreement as quickly as possible and then be out the door. Leofwine assumed the rumours of his brother’s death in Denmark were correct.
“My people,” Cnut began, his tone regal despite the implied haste. Leofwine mused that he was learning fast in his position as king.
“My thanks for attending upon me so urgently. I have many things to discuss, but most importantly, I must tell you that my brother in Denmark has met his death in an accident. I didn’t expect to receive such news. My brother was … a young man. He should have ruled for many years yet. Still, I must, with all haste, travel to Denmark and secure the throne. I’ll do so by taking with me some of my most loyal followers, and also by enacting my previous wishes, that Earl Thorkell rules in my stead, for my family. I trust this meets with your approval.” No one spoke into the short silence, not even to offer condolences to their king and Cnut continued as though he’d known no one would speak. Much of this seemed preempted, Leofwine mused.
“Those men who hold land in Denmark and England have my permission to secure their land in Denmark if they think it necessary, but they must ensure what they hold in England is protected as well. There have been rumours of unrest once more within England, and I wouldn’t want a man to secure his land in Denmark only to lose it here.” Leofwine was surprised by that concession. It made his wonder what Cnut valued more, Denmark or England?
Small pockets of conversation sprang up after the king spoke, but there was no cry of outrage that the king was leaving them with England still unsettled, and neither did anyone express anger or frustration that Cnut was eyeing Denmark as his own. Leofwine allowed himself to think that perhaps this had all been planned. Perhaps Cnut and his brother had been more enemies than friends, and Cnut had wanted to oust his brother from power, hold sway over a
northern kingdom, just as his father had managed to arrange briefly.
Only then he looked at Cnut’s careworn face, wrinkles already showing for all that he was a young man, his brow furrowed in concentration. However he might have wanted to hold his brother’s kingdom as well as his own, Leofwine doubted Cnut would have wanted it at the expense of his brother’s life.
“I will leave Earl Thorkell as my regent, with my wife and son in his care.
Earl Godwine will travel with me, and if necessary will return with urgent orders. Erik, Eilifr, Hakon, Æthelweard and Leofwine will govern in my absence. I’m relying on the six of you to rule as you see fit, to ensure justice prevails and the land remains peaceful, to put down any rebellion against my kingship.”
The king’s eyes flickered to every man as he spoke their name, resting for the longest time on Leofwine’s, as though he’d purposefully spoken his name last so that he could meet his eyes for the lengthiest time. Leofwine nodded in acceptance of his role. He didn’t want it, but if his king demanded it from him, he’d do as he must.
At his side, Leofric sat rigidly. Leofwine knew that he wanted his father to be more active in the kingdom, and this would give him the opportunity. He imagined Leofric was ecstatic. Leofwine only hoped the nation was calm without the king in attendance, although he doubted it after Leofric’s words with Æthelweard the year before. If the king were gone from England, Æthelweard would have ample opportunity to undermine him.
Small matters of precedent were quickly resolved, and the king stood to leave the Witan. Leofwine might have hoped that more would be accomplished, but events in Denmark had overtaken England.
As Cnut stood to leave, he wove a path straight for Leofwine. Leofwine watched him head towards him and remained in his seat. He was too old to stand to attention whenever the king demanded it. Without words, a small circle opened around them to allow the king to sit beside him and to accord them some privacy.
“My thanks for coming Earl Leofwine,” the King said. For all his rush at the front of the church, he seemed to have calmed now and decided to give Leofwine some of his valuable time. They’d not spoken since their meeting at Deerhurst when the king had come to personally make amends to his wife. It had been an awkward meeting, but one that had needed to happen.
“I could say it was my pleasure, but that would be a lie. It is an honour to be here, though.” The smile on the king’s face didn’t falter, although his eyebrow raised slightly in surprise at such an honest answer.
“I had hoped…” the King said, but Leofwine reached to pat the head of Healer to distract the king from his next words.
“I had hoped as well,” Leofwine said slowly. “It’s hard my Lord. I do what I can.”
He heard the King swallow his unhappiness and then turned to meet his eyes again.
“You’ve made amends as you agreed when we last met?” Leofwine asked. He knew it was a blunt question, but it seemed that Cnut had been expecting it.
“I have my Lord Leofwine, yes. The Chroniclers have been ordered to write certain benign words. When I return, I’ll be making a public reparation for the murder of Bishop Ælfheah. It will also be my chance to make restitution for other …wrongs.”
Leofwine absorbed that without speaking. He’d not been expecting such a show of remorse from the king. The murder of Bishop Ælfheah, ten years ago by the now Earl Thorkell during his attacks on England, had caused widespread unease and anger. To know that Cnut was learning to apologise for his errors in more ways than just in the case of his son made his confidence in the king grow, despite his unease that he was travelling to Denmark. England wasn’t used to being ruled by absentee kings.
“You’ve learned a great deal since I last saw you,” Leofwine said, hoping his voice conveyed the warmth he suddenly felt towards the younger man.
“A man must learn from his mistakes, atone for those things he can’t set straight any other way.”
“You’re correct my Lord, and you have my thanks.”
“It is, my pleasure and my honour both,” the king said, a faint smile playing on his lips as he regurgitated Leofwine’s words.
“And you Leofwine, you bring tranquility to my Witan just with your presence. Men didn’t speak against me or even question my decision. You’ll assist Thorkell for me. I hope he’s a man who’s learnt from his mistakes as well, but sometimes, well sometimes, I think he misses the thrill of battle and the joy that comes from playing enemies and allies off against each other.”
“Of course my Lord. I’ll do all I can. The queen as well, I’ll ensure she’s well, but my wife ails, too quickly for my liking, and I’ll have to return to her. I can’t stay here while you’re in Denmark.”
“I understand,” Cnut said. “You must go as you need. Family is more important than a kingdom. Even I know that now. But, I must go to Denmark. My family has been king there for over half a century. I can’t let it fall into the hands of other men. I have sons to think of.”
“Indeed you do my Lord, and good luck with that,” Leofwine muttered. He might not approve of the king and his multiple marriages, but he was bemused enough by it all to wonder how the king would manage his three sons, born to two different mothers. Perhaps his trip to Denmark was an attempt at settling land and expectations on the two families without the need for more bloodshed. He certainly hoped it was. There was little to be gained from allowing Cnut to grow to become a strong king if chaos was going to follow his death.
Cnut grinned with satisfaction at Leofwine’s words, and Leofwine was pleased to see that he’d not lost his sense of humour through the twist and turns of his adult life.
“Women are strange creatures,” Cnut only said, and with a firm handclasp for Leofwine, the king strode away, a smirk on his face as he did so.
Leofwine watched him without rancour. He might well be jealous of his easy movements, the vigour in his steps, but he didn’t envy him trying to be king in two very different lands. If the people of England and Denmark were as similar as men and women implied they were, Leofwine couldn’t help thinking that the same laws should apply to men in both lands, but they most certainly didn’t.
The laws of the Danelaw, the area settled by the first wave of Viking raiders under King Alfred, were still different to those that applied throughout the rest of the ancient kingdoms, and every new law code issued by Æthelred, and the one from Cnut, had done nothing but enshrine those divisions further. The Danes and the English were protected from the laws of the others land, but the differences were more telling than anyone, apart from Archbishop Wulfstan who drew up the law codes, perhaps knew.
“You should go with the king,” Leofwine suddenly said, turning to Leofric, who’d sat quietly throughout the exchange with the king. He’d not considered the possibility before. He’d not wanted to force his son to choose to whom he owed the most allegiance, but abruptly, he saw the logic of allowing Leofric to journey to Denmark with Cnut. Olaf and Orkning could go as well, under the guise of needing to ensure their family lands were secure.
The shock on Leofric’s face almost made Leofwine wish he’d not spoken, but then a slow curve of his lips and Leofwine knew that the idea held appeal.
“What of mother and Godgifu?” he said, and that Leofwine thought, would be a problem.
“You’ll need to make your peace with your mother before you leave. I’m sure Godgifu will be content with your decision,” he offered. It was no great solution, but the only probable end would be his wife’s death. He knew it was coming, chasing her. It was only a matter of time.
“Will the king allow it?” Leofric asked instead, moving aside from the painful truth of his mother’s mortality.
“I see no reason why he wouldn’t. He’d probably have me go if I weren’t quite so old and decrepit and him too polite to ask because he knows I wouldn’t be able to say no.”
Leofwine smirked at his son when he realised that he’d failed to assure his father that he was neither old or decrepit and w
aved Leofric’s hastily forming words of denial aside.
“Son, only a foolish man, doesn’t accept the march of time, and I, I hope, am not stupid. I only wish I could fight as well as I did five or ten years ago, but time has been unkind to me, and kind both. My injuries should have prevented me from being active in any war, but even my half-blindness has served me well, helping me look at men in a different way to the norm. It’s what lies beneath the surface that matters, not the face or appearance of a man. It’s a lesson you’ll find hard to learn with your two eyes.”
He smiled again, to take the sting from his words. He meant no dishonour to his son when he spoke, but he did need him to learn the life lessons that had been thrust upon him and sooner rather than later, while he yet still lived and could smooth over any problems his son had.
Leofric nodded quickly, his eyes bright. Leofwine thought he looked to the promise of a trip to Denmark, thinking nothing of his father’s words. He would need to learn to listen to men wiser than him, but there was time yet. Lots of time, or so Leofwine hoped.
For all Cnut’s haste, most of the summer passed before the king left England, and in that time Leofwine returned to Lichfield, and then, when his wife’s condition worsened, to Deerhurst. He knew her wishes. She wanted to be where she’d spent all her married life, where her children had been born, her grandchildren, and she little cared what a Danish earl thought about their presence within the hall, and the land they owned.
In her illness, she found softness and gentleness that he’d never imagined her possessing before. She’s always been the core of his household, but she could be sharp with her words, and stringent in her demands. Now, with her illness, everyone within the household came to love her more, but not to mourn her yet. She had her time still to enjoy, and she made great use of it.