The King's Earl

by M J Porter

  Leofwine found he couldn’t watch her with sadness. To know that he was going to lose the love of his life had initially crippled him, but then, with it came an understanding and joy. He’d get to spend her last days with her. He’d not be rushing around the country doing work for the king, but would instead be by her bedside, holding her hand, when the time came, and it hadn’t come yet.

  Æthelflæd, her hair almost all white, sat enthroned in Wulfstan’s chair, her two older grandson’s attentive as the hounds. Even Mildryth finding in the close loss the ability to smile and love freely again, listening as her mother-in-law tried to cram into her last months and weeks the learning she felt Mildryth had been deprived of. The two could often be heard chattering and laughing softly at memories of Northman, and those memories stirred everyone to a golden summer, basking in gentle sunlight, the clouds of what was to come still far enough away that they only hovered as a possibility, not yet a certainty.

  The king, good as his word, left his earl alone. Not even one messenger arrived at the hall. It was as though beyond the fence and gateposts the world of England had indeed come to an end. Nothing beyond the wattle fence mattered. Not anymore.

  Earl Eilifr was silent as well. It seemed he might have reached an acceptance that Æthelflæd held the respect of many within the land he governed, and yet people still went to him with their problems and concerns. Æthelflæd was no threat, and never had been.

  “Leofwine,” she said to him, late one evening. The fire had turned her face to shadows and hid the gauntness of her cheeks that enabled him to carry her as though she were no more than a child from her bed to the chair each morning, and back again each night, despite his own frailties.

  “Yes my love,” he answered. He knew she’d been steadying herself to speak with him of the future. He felt as ready as he’d ever be for her words.

  “My thanks,” she quietly said, and he looked at her in surprise.

  “For what?” he asked, and she chuckled softly at him, her eyes bright despite the dim lighting. They showed that her spirit was still young, even if her body was failing her.

  “Everything my love. You’ve been a good husband to me, but more than anything, I wanted to thank you for fighting your way home to me after you were injured in the Shetlands. Without you, my life would have been far less bright and far more unhappy.”

  She’d never spoken of her time apart from him, and he wouldn’t press her now, but he grinned at her, his scars tugging at his face, reminding him of his wounds in a way that hadn’t plagued him for many years.

  “Your thanks aren’t needed. I should have thanked you for waiting for me, for still wanting me.”

  She reached out, her hand frail and slightly too warm from her illness, to run her hands over his scars.

  “You were too handsome before you went away,” she smiled, her eyes closing briefly in memory of those days, so long ago now. “We were lucky,” she said, “to be pushed together by the king. Did you ever thank him for that?”

  Her words were still soft, but he felt the edge of her steel. She wasn’t immune to the way the history of Æthelred’s reign was frantically being rewritten by those loyal to the Danish king. Leofwine didn’t approve, and neither, it seemed did Æthelflæd. A man lived and died by his reputation, as they knew only too well with their son; to sully it, rewrite it in such a way was beneath Cnut, and yet he seemed content to let it happen.

  “I showed my support for Æthelred throughout his reign or as much as I could. He should have been a great king. If only… Well, we know the if onlys.”

  “And now you will go on, under Cnut, and make our family strong once more,” her voice was hard. She was commanding him.

  He swallowed over the sudden lump in his throat.

  “I will, and you’ll be proud of the boys and our daughter, and the other children we’ve sheltered within our home.”

  “I am, and I’m proud of you too. Never forget that.”

  “I wish you were staying and it was I who were going.”

  “I know my love, but sometimes God has different plans for us all, and we can’t go against his will.”

  “Does it hurt very much?” he asked. This had been his overwhelming worry. He wouldn’t let an animal suffer at the end of its life, and he didn’t want his wife to either, neither did he want to hasten her ending. He’d accepted her coming death, but it didn’t mean he wanted it to come soon.

  “Not anymore. The pain’s been numbed. The herbs are good. I spend my days drifting and my nights with those I love. You shouldn’t worry on my account. I’ll look after myself, and you, you’ll need to do the same. I don’t want you to sink as low as you did with Northman’s death. There are still great deeds for you to accomplish. Never forget that.”

  He held her hand tightly as she drifted towards sleep. He’d expected her to speak of her death, not their life together. He allowed a tired grin to touch his face. Even now his wife was trying to protect him from the harsh realities of life. He leant over and placed a kiss on her forehead, her soft breath on his face.

  He would miss her.

  He’d never replace her, and he knew that soon he’d join her as well, and their son, his father, Wulfstan, but not yet. First, as she’d said, he needed to make his family powerful, ensure that the efforts they’d both expended during their lives didn’t fade away to naught.

  The time he spent sitting quietly with his wife through the golden summer gave him ample time to consider the past, the present and the future. He thought he should have felt guilty for considering a future without his wife, but, as she’d told him, he still had great deeds to accomplish.

  Swein might well have been, all be it momentarily, the king of England and Denmark but Leofwine didn’t know if Cnut could be king of England and then of Denmark as well. He was still untried in many ways. He could fight and wield an axe, but could he manage unruly subjects, win the love of those who wanted only to hate him?

  Cnut had assured Leofwine that he’d take Godwine with him, remove him from any position of power while he was gone from England, but that gave Leofwine little comfort. Time away with Cnut would see Godwine more firmly entrenched in the king’s good graces while Leofwine was left behind, to act as a second pair of eyes for the king and to ensure that none of the other earls acted inappropriately.

  But Leofwine also worried about the king’s journey itself. The seas were treacherous, especially as the summer waned. What if something should befall Cnut? Who would be king in his place? Was Leofwine expected to keep the throne secure for a child who still suckled at his mother’s breast? He hoped not. What England needed was a powerful king and also one who was in England. Cnut was blinded by his family’s inheritance, and Leofwine feared what that meant for everyone.

  Leofric also kept a vigil with him beside Æthelflæd, his need to be with his mother when her death was so imminent making him decide to stay in England, even before the king tarried.

  Late in the summer, Leofwine noticed that Leofric held a message in his hand that he passed silently to his father. Leofwine hadn’t heard any messenger arrive so early in the morning and wondered if he’d missed him, or if the message had arrived late the night before. He unfolded and read the script, the reason for Leofric’s gloom instantly becoming apparent.

  “They mean to move against the king?” he quietly said, and Leofric nodded.

  “They do, and they ask for our support.”

  “Well not only can we not give it, but we also need to tell the king.”

  “I know,” Leofric said, scraping his hand over his tired young face. “I’ve sent the messenger to the king. I hope he reaches him before he sails for Denmark.”

  “When did the message come?” Leofwine asked, intrigued. His son didn’t seem to have slept at all. Perhaps it had been a very late night message.

  “Deep in the night. The messenger said he’d been asked to travel covertly and so had taken to going at night instead of during the day.”


  “And he came straight from Earl Æthelweard?”

  “He said he did. I paid him well and bid him be on his way back. I sent one of our messengers to the king.”

  “Thanks, son. You acted as I would.”

  “I know,” was the simple response, and Leofwine patted his boy on the knee, forgetting that he was a father himself, with his son and his wife, and no longer to be petted.

  “I should go, pretend to support the rebellion,” the words from Leofric were heavy, laced with unwillingness and a steely resolve. Leofwine visibly flinched when he heard them, a tremor of fear snaking down his shaky legs.

  “No, our family will do no such thing. We’re supporters of Cnut, and we’ll stay as such. We’re not going to risk any more lives on the whims of men who wish to be king but who have no idea how to rule and govern.”

  The relief on Leofric’s face was clear to see even in the early morning grey and grief once more enveloped Leofwine. He sometimes forgot that others grieved as much as he did, if not more. It was his choices that had brought Northman to his death; he’d not allow any of his other children to be placed in the same predicament.

  “We’ll support the king. We don’t even need to know about the rebellion.”

  “But what if it succeeds, our family will suffer then.”

  “No rebellion against Cnut will succeed. He might not have the hold on his kingdom that I wish he had, but that won’t stop others from following him wholeheartedly. He speaks of peace and prosperity, justice and trade. The men and women of England would rather have that than a descendant of Æthelred’s on the throne.”

  “Do you think so?” Leofric asked, and Leofwine thought it was just this flash of doubt in people that should make Cnut stay in England. He almost had the support of everyone, but if others, such as Leofric, could also doubt him, then he needed to stay and face the threat.

  “I believe Cnut is what England needs. He’s a powerful king, a fine king. He needs some more time, but ultimately, it’s he who’ll govern and rule the best of anyone else.”

  “So why is he leaving?”

  “We’ll, he’s also greedy and wants to claim his birthright. It’s also not his fault that his brother died. Cnut wouldn’t have expected it, and nor did we. Harald was a young man; he should have ruled for many, many years. Cnut must do what he must. I don’t approve, but I also don’t disapprove. It would be better if he sent Thorkell to Denmark to secure the kingdom there, but he doesn’t trust him to do so, that’s why he’s leaving him here.”

  Leofric looked at his father in confusion and Leofwine understood why. There was a riddle in the logic, and it did need explaining further.

  “While Earl Thorkell is in England he must rule and govern in the name of the king, with the queen, and of course, myself, to keep an eye on him, ensure he doesn’t err or take actions that would imperil the kingdom. In Denmark, where men know him well, he would quickly amass support for his rule. It’s harder for him to claim any hold on England, especially in the lands of the East Anglians. Remember, he ravaged their land, killed many men and obliterated their crops, before retreating. He doesn’t have an easy task to perform there.”

  “You almost sound as though you approve,” Leofric quizzed, but Leofwine was already shaking his head in denial.

  “I simply understand the logic of the decision, nothing more. Did you send word to the Queen at Winchester and Earl Thorkell as well?”

  “I did father yes, and also to Hrani and Eilifr.”

  “Good, then we need do little more than wait and see what happens next. It’s nothing for us to worry about further. We’ve done what we can.”

  “Should the men be aware that there might be an uprising?”

  Leofwine sighed heavily at those words. He didn’t want to risk the loss of any more lives, but Leofric was right in what he said. If the rebellion took hold, they would need to ride out and enforce the king’s will.

  “Yes, have everyone made aware and provision themselves as if we were going to war. Only then can we pray that the rebellion amounts to nothing or that Cnut doesn’t sail for Denmark and managed to reassert his hold on England.”

  Leofric stood, more alert now that he had a task to accomplish. Leofwine watched him go with sad eyes. His sons. He’d wanted them to live in peace. He’d tried to ensure that when he’d dragged King Æthelred to war against the men of Strathclyde. The victory they’d achieved had been a good one, as had the King’s alliance with Normandy, but it had all been too little. Æthelred had been flushed with his successes and what none of them had realised was just how concerted future attacks would become, what damage the foolhardy plan to kill all Danish men and women in England on St Brice’s Day a few years later would do for England and her relationship with the norsemen.

  It hadn’t made them stronger. No, the massacre, although only half carried out in many places before the king’s orders had been reversed, had made many of the Norsemen more determined to make England suffer for her terrible acts against their fellow men. He closed his eye in grief at the memory of that terrible time.

  Why had Æthelred let himself be lead by men who only had their own interests at heart? He hoped with all his heart that despite the bumpy start Cnut had had, he would at least learn to make better decisions, to be the better man. Leofwine knew that his hopes would have had more chance of success if he’d only made himself stand at Cnut’s side, but he still couldn’t. Not yet.

  The wounds of his son’s death were still too raw. Although he could, perhaps act for his king in the matter of this rebellion. Maybe he should send Leofric to show support for the insurgency, only as a deterrent, not as a sly accomplish.

  He watched his two young grandsons at play, the bigger lad, Wulfstan trying to overpower his younger brother by pure brute strength alone, and he hoped it wasn’t a portent of events to come in England.

  The messenger to the king returned two days later, his face downcast. He’d missed the king, already departed for Denmark. Leofwine consoled the man. It wasn’t his fault, not at all, and as no further rumours had been received, and no word had come from Thorkell, Hrani or Eilifr, Leofwine allowed himself to forget his worries. It was the dark time of the year when everyone huddled within trying to stay warm, and he hoped that no one would attempt to usurp the throne during the chill winter months.

  He wasn’t blind enough to think that the men of the rebellion would fall silent throughout the winter, but he hoped it would provide them with time to consider their actions. Then, come the better weather, if it seemed the rebellion was still fated to go ahead, then he’d send Leofric to Earls Thorkell, Hrani and Eilifr and also to Earl Æthelweard, to find out exactly what his intentions were. If he could turn the new rebellion aside, he would do so.

  He’d dealt with weak men who believed too much in themselves before. Weak ealdormen were no new thing for the English, and it was rare that people listened to them. If this proved an exception to the rule, he would labour in the king’s name. But it would be for the last time. He was too old for all this.

  Only, as the weather improved he received a raft of messages from the Queen, Earl Thorkell and Earl Æthelweard. The rebellion had gained momentum after all. The messages arrived one after another, falling into his lap as though the respite of the long summer and winter had never been. His wife, so fragile at his side, needed his support, not the absent king.

  The first messenger, from Æthelweard, called upon him, as a proud English man to join his rebellion against the king. His words were curt and to the point. Æthelweard alleged that Cnut had asked him to kill Eadwig, Æthelred’s surviving son from his first marriage, but that he’d refused and allowed Eadwig to leave England. Now he was back to claim his kingdom, and Leofwine must support him. Leofwine held his fury in check that Æthelweard would presume to put him in such an awkward situation.

  The second messenger, from Earl Thorkell, demanded his attendance at Oxford to discuss the threat, requested that he bring his household tro
ops with him, and as many of the fyrd as he could muster in a day.

  Only Queen Emma’s message was at all pleasant, enquiring after his health, and informing him of her worries for her safety and the safety of the kingdom. She didn’t demand his attendance upon her, but she didn’t need to. Despite the years that had passed since he’d first saved her from the clutches of her dead father-in-law, Swein, she would have known she could count on Leofwine’s support. There was no need to demand it when he would give it so willingly.

  Cnut had faced a rebellion already from Eadwig the ætheling, and he’d reacted by exiling him, and rumour had it, killing him. Leofwine mused that perhaps he should have killed him more publicly, as he had Northman, then he’d not be facing another rebellion. But he hadn’t and now the possibility of restoring Æthelred’s line, the ancient House of Wessex was a faint, but glowing possibility that Æthelweard had cooked up in Cnut’s absence. Leofwine wished he could punish Cnut for killing his son by depriving him of his throne, but he knew he couldn’t.

  If the men of England placed this Eadwig, fake or imagined, as king while Cnut was away in Denmark, he’d have the resources of Denmark at his beck and call to claim back his wife, his son and his kingdom. Place Eadwig as king and England would just return to the difficulties of the last ten years. As much as Leofwine couldn’t forgive Cnut for what he’d done to his son, there was no chance he’d allow England to suffer for his personal grief.

  That only left the possibility of trying to turn Earl Æthelweard away from his proposed rebellion. Leofwine considered the possibilities. He could appeal to him, make him change his mind before the revolution gained any real traction. He hazarded a guess that it might already be too late for that, if Æthelweard had spoken truly to Leofric at the Witan in Oxford, it would seem that the passage of time had made him believe in the alleged atheling more, not less.

  He pondered the options available to him; the messages held loosely in his hand as he stared into the sputtering fire. It was damp outside, the wood too wet to burn as the late winter weather waned. He could send Leofric to the Queen, or to Thorkell. He knew they were in the same place, but it mattered a great deal as to whom he went to the aid of first. If Leofric sought out Thorkell, with the household troops, it would be a declaration of war against Æthelweard. If he went to the Queen, it allowed the possibility of dialogue, a peaceful resolution to the rebellion.