by M J Porter
Leofric wasn’t surprised to hear that Godwine had been so well informed. He’d not been able to shake the belief that Godwine might just have encouraged Æthelweard’s rebellion, either directly or indirectly.
“The men all rushed to join with me, as did Earl Thorkell, and we were able to intercept them before they entered the town. There were about two hundred men, all well provisioned. They weren’t men from the fyrd, but fighting men, warriors all of them.”
“A brief skirmish and the majority of the men decided to flee rather than meet their death. The leader of the King of Dublin’s force and the Prince were able to escape. Somehow they must have made it to the coast where ships were waiting for them. We’d expected them to retreat the way they’d come. It was a miscalculation, and I apologise for not apprehending him.”
“What became of Earl Æthelweard?” the king pressed. He must have heard the story before and yet he was still sitting forward, his interest evident in his every action.
“He was wounded fighting Earl Thorkell’s men and they brought him to Oxford to account for his actions.”
Hakon sat then, his words spoken.
“Earl Thorkell, what did you see other than a force trying to attack Winchester?”
“I saw the battle standard of the old royal house of Wessex, the battle standard of the King of Dublin, and another standard, an eagle on a blue field. Æthelweard informed me it was to be his new standard, given to him by the soon to be King of England, Eadwig.”
“Earl Æthelweard used those very words?” the king asked.
“Those were his words to me, yes.”
“They were heard by others?”
“Yes my Lord King, by my men, but also by the men of the fyrd. They were shocked.”
“And did Æthelweard speak more of his intentions.”
“He did. He tried to convince me to turn against you as well.”
A deep silence filled the room at that admission. It was telling for both the king and Thorkell. His father had been approached because he was English, Thorkell because Æthelweard thought he could be bought. Leofric could see that the king was barely containing his anger. His calm demeanour evaporating at the audacity of the leader of the rebellion.
“He also spoke of the other surviving members of the old king’s family, should something happen to Eadwig.”
Leofric met his father’s gaze then. Those were the words he’d heard his father telling Thorkell to use to inflame the king and Cnut certainly looked beyond angry now and yet Æthelweard still stood defiantly.
“My thanks for your words. Æthelweard, do you have witnesses to speak on your behalf?”
“I will speak in my name,” Æthelweard said. He’d been stood before the assembly while Leofric, Hakon and Thorkell spoke. Other than the odd angry glance, he’d not moved or uttered a single word.
“As you will,” the King said. His tone was deadly. Leofric doubted he would have wanted to speak when the king was so livid.
“I wish to apologise to you, your wife and your son for any dismay and upset I may have caused. I would prefer to make excuses and explain my actions, but instead, I will merely apologise and take the just punishment that I deserve. There seems no point in arguing when the three men have spoken so eloquently against me.”
“Why?” Cnut asked, his desire to know why Æthelweard had acted against him draining the anger from his face. For now.
“We are the English, we should have an English king, and one from the ancient line. You’ve usurped the kingdom, caused the death of one of the king’s eldest sons and had his younger children driven from the kingdom. England is not yours and never should be.”
Cnut’s face turned angrier and angrier as Æthelweard spoke, and yet he held his temper close. Leofric was impressed by the king’s control.
“You offer no other words to me, your king?” he asked softly, and for probably the last time in his life, Æthelweard met his king’s eyes.
“I do not.”
“Then it is my decision, and that of this Witan, that you be outlawed. Your possessions are no longer yours, and you will leave England. But understand this, if you ever return to England, or meddle in the affairs of the kingdom, your sentence will be changed to one of death.”
Leofric breathed out, unaware he’d even been holding his breath. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his father nodding. It was evident he agreed with the king’s decision.
“Earl Thorkell, please command your household troops to escort the outlaw to the coast. Ensure he leaves my kingdom.”
Two smartly dressed men, more used to guarding weapons than prisoners, who’d been watching Æthelweard throughout the trial, now stood to attention and collected the once-earl from his position. Leofric wondered if he’d speak again, but he declined to although he cast a final angry glance towards him as he left the king’s presence. Beside him, he felt his father’s hand on his arm, cautioning him. It was a wise move. Leofric had felt the edges of his anger starting to quiver with the continued implication that all of this was somehow his fault.
Æthelweard should not have incited a rebellion, not without being assured of support beforehand.
“What of Eadwig? Have you sent men to seek him out?” The king’s question was directed at Earl Thorkell.
“Yes, I have, but as of yet, there’s no word. I advised the men to travel to Normandy. I thought the prince might try to make contact with his half-brothers.”
No one in the church looked directly at the queen, not even the king, but the constant reminder that it was her first born children who were now the greatest threat to her young son, did seem to make her sit taller. She was the queen and had been for almost all of Leofric’s life. She knew the threat her older sons posed. It could not be an easy position to be in. It was the king, not the queen who spoke.
“My wife has an agreement with her brother, to keep her oldest children safe and away from England. They have, at her instigation, given up all claim to the kingdom. Scripts have been drawn up, and they’ve added their signatures to them. The queen’s oldest sons are no threat to England, unlike the previous king’s sons. They need to be kept from stepping foot on English land again.”
Leofric was surprised. He’d not expected the queen to acquiesce to her new husband’s demands quite so entirely. He wondered if, against all the odds, the queen was happier with her younger husband than she’d been with her older husband.
“I would like to thank my earl’s and their supporters who kept England safe for me while I was in Denmark. My kingdom has expanded, Denmark is my birthright, England I rule through conquest, but my intention is to rule both lands fairly, using the laws that the Danish and the English are used to. With that in mind, Archbishop Wulfstan has redrafted some of the law codes. They’ll be agreed upon here, and we’ll all work to enforce the laws.”
Once the king had spoken, the Witan returned to its more usual routine of discussion and debate, everyone in the room relaxing now that the unpleasantness of the rebellion had been dealt with. Leofric felt himself sit back and relax on his chair, but he noted how alert his father remained throughout the long and tedious afternoon. He listened to every word the other earls uttered, his one-eyed stare rarely turning away from the king, but for all that, when they left the church he turned to his son.
“Earl Godwine is wise to be worried. The earls aren’t happy with their king.”
Leofric’s mouth opened in shock. What had his father picked up on in the undercurrent of strong-minded men that he’d failed to notice at all?
Chapter 13
Leofwine
Summer AD1020
The Border with Powys and Mercia (Offa’s Dyke)
He sat astride his horse rather than dismount. It was easier that way. The Powysian King would think nothing of it if he stayed on his horse. Llewelyn was someone he’d had contact with in the past. They weren’t allies, or enemies, and he’d come to ensure they didn’t become enemies in the future.
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sp; Llewelyn had grown in stature and command in recent years. Where before he’d been king of Powys alone, he now held the kingdoms of Deheubarth and Gwynedd as well. He was the sort of man that Cnut needed to be warily friendly with, a man with aspirations as great as his own and someone who could if he was so determined, undermine many of Cnut’s plans.
Cnut needed peace within England and with her enemies if he were successfully to rule two kingdoms on his own. He’d entrusted this discussion to Leofwine rather than risk Eilifr exasperating Llewelyn. Leofwine was reminded of another king who’d once done something similar. He wondered if, if he lived long enough, everything he’d done in the past would come full circle once more. Would he, as he hazarded a guess his father had once done, be made responsible for annihilating those allies who became enemies within the Welsh kingdoms?
Where years before he’d waited to meet with Llewelyn, to discuss matters of state for Æthelred, he now did the same for his young king, Cnut. The old dyke looked no different to how it had appeared nearly fifteen years ago, and he smirked at his whimsy. The years seemed to contract somehow so that events he should barely remember he could recall with absolute clarity. He sighed deeply.
“You’re well my Lord?” Oscetel asked, astride his horse beside him.
“Yes, Oscetel and please, drop the my Lord when we’re alone. You know better than that.”
He examined his friend’s face then, honestly for the first time in many years. He and Oscetel were very close in age; only Oscetel had not been ravaged by injury. He seemed far younger than he felt, far more sprightly, and yet the signs were there. His face was shadowed and creased, his hair turning to grey at the sides, and, although he’d never tell him so, starting to wear thin on the back of his head. He held his weapons firmly, his old horse placid beneath him, and yet even the beast was starting to age, grey flecking the black beast.
“Just considering the passage of time, and the irony that we’ve been here before, for another king.”
“I recall it well my Lord, and you’re right. Time plays tricks on us all.”
“We should think about stopping and retiring to a monastery,” Leofwine said, his eyes on a distant future where he no longer carried the weight of king’s on his shoulders.
“We’d be bored, and you damn well know it,” Oscetel retorted, anger colouring his words.
“I didn’t mean to offend,” Leofwine began but Oscetel, for once in his life, was not meeting his eyes.
“My apologies. But, well, you need to stop giving up. The past is done, I know, but we have years in us yet. We can still make an impact on events. We’re not helpless victims to the whims of Cnut and his Danish earls. We were never helpless before when Æthelred reigned. It makes me angry to think you’ve given up.”
Leofwine considered his friend in silence.
“You learnt too well from Wulfstan my friend,” he muttered, feeling dejected as Oscetel looked at him with a question on his lips.
“You speak the harsh truth with no thoughts for my sensibilities.”
“He told me I always should, and I hope I’ve honoured him by carrying out his requests.”
Leofwine felt a tired grin on his face.
“But I’m old.”
“Yes you are, but like old Ealdorman Æthelweard and his writing and books, your age adds to your appeal, to your ability to convince. Your age adds more weight to your words. You should use it as an advantage, not as an excuse.”
“Have you been thinking about this for some time?”
“Yes and no. I hoped you’d bounce back after Northman’s death and then again when you lost Æthelflæd, and you have, but you use your age to preclude yourself when you shouldn’t.”
“But Leofric...”
“I know he needs to learn, but he needs to learn from the real you. He has a tricky path to navigate. The king respects you, and Leofric by association but he chooses his earls, his people when he should rely on you. Godwine will always be a thorn in Leofric’s side, and he needs to know how to be the better man because he is. Just as you are. You always have been.”
“You once told me that the King Æthelred misused me. I listened to your words, but still I let him do so. Perhaps, this time, I should heed your advice more.”
He turned aside then. He had no problem hearing uncomfortable truths but to know that he’d disappointed Oscetel meant that by association he’d also acted contrary to the way Wulfstan had taught him. Even now, as grown and grizzled as he was, that hurt more than it should do.
Over the rise, he saw a haze of riders growing clearer, and he realised he needed to finish the conversation before he began to act as Earl Leofwine.
“Oscetel,”
“My Lord?”
He glared at him until Oscetel shook his head in apology.
“My thanks for speaking your mind. Don’t be afraid to in the future.”
Oscetel smiled then, his worried face creasing and showing his age all in one go. Leofwine wondered just who the pair of them were trying to fool, but then he relented. Who cared? They could be as old and bad-tempered as they liked, they still knew more than most of the other men the king surrounded himself with, combined. Oscetel was right. They had more of a part to play in the future than in the past. And then Llewelyn arrived, and his first words had the pair of them laughing out loud.
“My Lord Leofwine,” he called, his voice filled with welcome. “I see the years have not been your friend.”
As the friends laughed, Llewelyn rode closer, his face confused at the unexpected twist his greeting had received.
“Well I didn’t expect that response,” he muttered.
“You caught us discussing our many years, and it was precipitous of you to add to the conversation. And anyway, the years have hardly been kind to you, either.”
“Ah, I know,” the Powysian king laughed, his hands over his slightly rotund belly. “Wisdom is a great weapon though, and I’ve realised it’s better to have men fight for you than do it all yourself. Sons should be made to fight. I can just direct.”
“Is that how you managed to extend your kingdom?”
“Yes and no. I took advantage of a few deaths, a few unhappy alliances. I’m sure you know what it’s like.”
“I do yes. Take an advantage wherever you can.”
“Yes, or turn something detrimental to your side. It’s a game of words more often than weapons. Weapons only come in handy in the final moments.”
“If only the young realised,” Leofwine quipped, his eyebrows raised and Llewelyn joined the laughter.
“Goodness me, no, if we told them who would we command? But to matters of state. I take it King Cnut wishes to continue our uneasy and unofficial alliance.”
“He does yes if you agree to it. I think England will be quieter now that Cnut is king.”
“I agree, and I’m glad Eadric is no longer plaguing me, although you have my sympathies for the loss of your son. I take it you’ve reconciled with Cnut despite everything?”
“I find I have no choice. I’ve worked all my life in the service of king’s, and my children expect to do the same. I always liked Cnut, but he has tested my tolerance. Still, his amends have been heartfelt and genuine.”
“No real compensation for the loss of a son,” Llewelyn probed, but Leofwine found the comments didn’t unsettle anymore, as they perhaps would have done before Oscetel’s words a moment ago.
“No, it’s not. But I must think of my other three sons and my daughter.”
“Of course you must, and I’m pleased on your behalf, and my own, that your king sees your value. These bloody Danish earls are a nuisance, though.”
Leofwine let a smile light his face. It was hard to talk about Northman, but with someone who understood so much, it seemed comfortable.
“My thanks for your understanding,” he said, and Llewelyn took it as what it was, a request to move on and talk about the alliance.
“Your lands are peaceful?” he asked. Much of Ll
ewelyn’s recent successes had happened when Leofwine had been paying little attention. It would be good to know how he interpreted events within his homeland.
“No, not yet. You know the people of the Welsh. They’re happy with an external enemy, but if there isn’t one, they tend to turn on themselves.” Llewelyn’s voice held no rancour as he spoke. He knew his people well.
“So an alliance with England is detrimental to you?”
“Not me personally, but it makes men conspire and plan. I’m sure something will happen to upset my control, but I’ll be ready for whatever it is. I need to rule for long enough that my young son can take control on my death. Until then, well, I may as well enjoy myself.”
“It seems as though you plot more wars?” Leofwine asked. It'd be nice if he knew the mind of the man. If he were only focused on acquiring more land in Wales, then the borders with England would be relatively safe.
“I might well have my eye on other objectives,” he chuckled again. “You can assure your king that I want no land on your side of the border and if he does me the courtesy of keeping his Danish earls fully occupied, we’ll live as peacefully as our two peoples ever had.”
“It appears we have an agreement then. That’s good. I didn’t wish to make war against you. I know you fight well and it would be unfortunate if two old men had to fight to the death.”