by M J Porter
“How many?” the king asked darkly. This was new information for him. Leofric vaguely heard his father’s huff of surprise at the man’s words.
“At least a further fifty, my King,” Godwine stated, proud of the fact that he’d tracked down fifty men.
“They are all here to be questioned?”
“Yes my Lord, although the story is very similar. Apart from one other man my Lord. Him, I think you’d like to speak to.”
“Why is that?”
Earl Godwine paused for dramatic effect, “Because he knows Earl Thorkell. He met him.”
Now Leofric felt his confusion growing. What new trick was this?
“Bring him in,” the king demanded meeting Thorkell’s gaze. Sidsel still stood before the king. He looked uncomfortable, but no one commanded him to leave.
The man who entered the room looked no different from the other members of the household troop, and Leofric felt unease growing. This was a trick, he was sure of it, but at the same time, he knew that Godwine wouldn’t have used it unless he was sure of enraging the king.
The man kept his face hidden until he’d bowed before the king, but there was something about the way he walked, carried himself. Even Leofric felt as though he knew the man.
His attention was so exclusively focused on the stranger that he didn’t even watch Earl Thorkell. Only when his father hissed sharply, did he turn his attention away from the new witness.
“What?” he whispered to his father, unsure what he might have seen that he’d missed.
“Thorkell knows the man. I can tell from his posture.”
“What? Who is he?” Leofric demanded to know, his whisper urgent.
“My Lord King,” the man said, his accent heavily Danish.
“I know you,” the king said, and now Leofric felt a growing realisation of what exactly Godwine had managed to accomplish.
“Yes, you do my Lord. I fought for you at London, at many battles, and I was one of the men you didn’t keep when you won the throne. You paid me well and sent me back to Denmark.”
“What’s your name?” the King asked, “I remember your face, not your name.”
“I’m Ragnor ?”
“How do you know Earl Thorkell?”
“He asked me to recruit men to attack England. He said he wanted men who’d never been to England before.”
“When was this?”
“A little under two years ago.”
Leofric tore his transfixed gaze from Ragnor to watch Thorkell. His face was impassive and yet something in his stance had given way.
“Where did he recruit you?” the king asked.
“In his hall, at Thetford. I met his wife as well, and his nephew, Regna.”
The King had turned his attention back to Thorkell now. His gaze was smoldering.
“Tell me, what does Earl Thorkell display in his hall?”
“My Lord King?” Ragnor asked.
“If you’ve been to the hall, I want to know what he has on display in his hall.”
“My Lord King,” Earl Godwine interjected, but the king waved him away.
“A huge wolf’s head, my Lord, from the north of Norway. He killed it when he was a boy. He and Olaf, previously King of Norway, a man your father killed in battle. They shared the spoils between them. Olaf had the fur, Thorkell the head.”
Leofric glanced at the man. Surely anyone could have known that story and yet Godwine was wearing a self-satisfied smirk on his face. Was this the wolf fur his father had been gifted? Surely if it was, he’d have been told the story before? Surely if it was, everyone would know the story?
The King seemed satisfied with the man’s words, while Thorkell already looked defeated.
“I don’t understand,” Leofric said to no one in particular, but events were moving at a pace in front of him.
“Earl Thorkell, do you have anything you’d like to say in your defence?”
Thorkell met the king’s gaze squarely, his stance accepting of what was about to happen.
“No, my Lord King, I don’t.”
“Then my pronouncement is that you must be banished and never again allowed to set foot in England. Earl Godwine will escort you to the coast, ensure you don’t try and cause more problems.”
“As you will my Lord King,” and so bowing, Thorkell indicated to Godwine that he should lead him away. The smirk on Godwine’s face was exuberant that on Thorkell’s pensive, the king no longer looked angry but instead disturbed.
The Witan was in uproar, but at his side his father sat quietly, shaking his head.
“I don’t like this. Not at all,” was all he said.
Anglo Saxon Chronicle For AD1021
This year King Knute (Cnut), at Martinmas, outlawed Earl Thurkyll (Thorkell) ; and Bishop Elfgar, the abundant giver of alms, died in the morning of Christmas day.
Chapter 17
Leofwine
Early AD1022
Earl Hakon paced the hall at Deerhurst in concern as Leofwine watched on. He’d never expected to find such a willing ally in the man who’d been used to remove him from the place where he held much of his land, and where his wife’s family had once owned even more. But Leofwine had long learned not to judge people on first impressions. Most men took longer to show their true colours.
What excited both men now was the rift between the king, and his disgraced earl, Thorkell, now banished from England but causing untold damage in Denmark instead.
Initially, Leofwine had been deeply unhappy by the staging of Thorkell’s banishment. It was clear that he’d been intentionally made a victim by the long planning Earl Godwine and that sat uneasily with him. Only then he’d started to wonder if perhaps the scheme was something that the King had been involved in as well. Had he wanted to banish Earl Thorkell, allow him to return to Denmark where he could govern for his foster-son and the son of one of his oldest allies? Had it all been a ruse? A carefully constructed one, but one all the same.
Only, as snippets of news had percolated back to England had Leofwine realised he’d been foolish to hold out such a hope.
The rift between the two men was huge, and Thorkell, away in Denmark, seemed to be doing all he could to incite rebellion against the absentee king. There were even rumours that he was still in contact with some of the earls in England whose ties were really with Denmark, not England. Leofwine could only wish that Cnut had proved to be as strong a king as his father, but it seemed as though his attention and his view, was increasingly turning towards Denmark, Sweden and Norway, as was that of his leading men.
Of them all, it was only Earl Hakon who seemed concerned about England, but then, he’d lost a kingdom before, when Olof Skotkonung had killed his uncle and claimed back Norway. He had experience that the other men lacked. Even his father, Earl Erik, was downplaying the argument between Cnut and Thorkell.
Hakon had spent the winter with his father in York, and that was why he now paced within the Leofwine family home near Deerhurst.
“He says they’re men, they’ve argued before, but that they’re family and will reunite eventually. He says it’s the way of the northmen.” His voice was clipped, as he ticked off on his fingers everything his father had said that had riled him. The similarities between Earl Hakon and his daughter weren’t lost on Leofwine.
“You don’t agree that it’s the way of the north men?” Leofwine asked. He was, and he could admit it to himself, greatly honoured that the younger man had come to him as soon as he’d left his father. He’d have expected him to seek out one of his countrymen, but he hadn’t.
“On no, I know it’s the way of the north men. We’re all happy to kill our fathers, brothers, uncles, cousins; it makes no odds to us when we decide we want something. But I don’t agree that Thorkell and Cnut will reconcile. I think Earl Godwine,” and here he stopped to spit into the fire pit in disgust, “has caused irreconcilable differences. He’s gone out of his way to embarrass both men, and I can tell you, the north men don’t like
to be embarrassed, almost as much as they like to kill their enemies.”
“What have you heard of Thorkell in Denmark?” Leofwine pressed. Leofric wasn’t with him, having stayed in Lichfield with his wife and son, but his youngest son, Eadwine sat beside him, listening intently to everything that Hakon said, Leofwine’s two hounds sleepily paying attention at his feet.
“A ship docked close to York just as I was coming away. I asked the captain for news. He’d sailed from Ribe. He said he knew little but what he did know wasn’t good. Thorkell has taken command of the Trelleborg fort at Nonnebakken and the one at Frykat. I fear he’ll march on Hedeby next, treat with the bloody Emperor, or someone equally as powerful. Maybe even go further along the inland sea, to the king of the Wends.”
He sounded exasperated, and Leofwine could understand why. While many of the names and places were new to his young son, he knew of where and whom Hakon spoke. He’d made it his duty to find out all he could from Finn and Horic both. Now it was Orkning who told him of changes in kingship, land ownership. England, just like her king, was no longer concerned only with her borders and those of the kingdoms of the Welsh or the Scots. No, now she had to contend with what was happening in the vast northern lands, in Normandy and even further afield.
The world he’d once thought of as extending little beyond England was great and peopled with men and warriors with their self-interests, hopes, dreams and aspirations.
“What do you plan to do?”
“I don’t know,” Hakon said, throwing his hands up, and himself into old Wulfstan’s chair beside the fire. Leofwine grimaced at the sharp movement. He didn’t want the old chair to suffer from such vigour sat within it. It was no longer used to being sat within, but the chair didn’t even groan, and Leofwine experienced a flash of Wulfstan’s intrigued face superimposed over Hakon’s. How would Wulfstan have interpreted the latest developments?
“Will the Danish follow Thorkell?” Leofwine asked. He knew the answer, but it would be good to hear another speak it.
“Of course they will. He’s one of the legendary Jomsvikings. Few men gain such notoriety while they yet live as the Jomsvikings. And, many of the Danish will not even question what he commands them. They’ll think he speaks Cnut’s orders.”
“Ah, I see. News travels slowly in Denmark?”
“Yes and no. Men in Denmark care little for events in England. They want their king in their country. They don’t like having proxies in place of Cnut. Earl Ulfr is a brother of Cnut’s through his marriage to his sister, but the men of the Danish nobility still want Cnut. They don’t see why they’re treated as second best to the English, a race they think of as weak and unable to stand against their combined attacks.”
Leofwine no longer flinched to hear the blunt interpretation of England. Sometimes he even thought it might be correct, but it was something that Cnut needed to be aware of.
“You’ve spoken to the king?” he asked, trying a different tact.
“The King won’t see me,” Hakon admitted, his shoulders slumping. He was rubbing his head and seemed exhausted by the situation he found himself within.
“Perhaps,” Leofwine offered, hating to say the words but knowing they needed voicing all the same, “your father is right and you should leave the two to argue their way through their disagreement.”
Hakon was back on his feet in a flurry of activity, but he quickly collapsed again.
“Is that what you truly think?” he asked, deflated. Leofwine shook his head.
“No, I don’t, but I also know that sometimes events have to be allowed to run their course before any intervention can stand a possibility of success. The man, the one that Earl Godwine found, who was he really?” he asked. He’d often wondered over the long cold winter.
“What Ragnor?
“Yes. It was evident everyone knew him.”
“It’s long been rumoured that he’s a son of Cnut’s uncle, Swein’s brother. No one knows whether he is, or he isn’t, but he uses the fact that men don’t question him to manipulate people, and he’s bloody good at it.”
“Well, of course, he knew Thorkell then?” Leofwine pressed.
“Yes, of course, he knew Thorkell, but by producing him, Godwine did more than just find a man to corroborate what that other bugger, Sidsel, had said. He made it an oath sworn on family loyalty. There was nothing Thorkell could have said which wouldn’t have been dishonourable.”
Leofwine shook his head.
“And Godwine knows all this? Because I don’t.”
“Godwine has been to Denmark. He’s experienced the Danish court first hand. He knows how it works, and he had ample time to set in motion his plot to drive a wedge between Thorkell and Cnut. I’m in awe of both his deviousness and his ability to plan so far in advance. I can only imagine that’s an English attribute. Danish men are more prone to grab their weapons and kill each other than they are to bring about such a monumental conspiracy.”
“Hum,” Leofwine grunted. He didn’t like the earl’s words, but neither could he counter them. He too had once been guilty of just such a long-term plan. Look what it had gained him.
“Can Ragnor not be made to change his story?”
It was Hakon’s turn to look sour now.
“I didn’t think that was how the law worked in England. I thought that once he’d sworn his oath, that was the end of the matter.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right. Still, I’d like to know what Earl Godwine promised him to turn against his family.”
“Ah, now that I can help with. Earl Godwine told him it was Cnut’s wishes, and he’s always been desperate to do anything Cnut asked of him. He hopes that Cnut will one day welcome him into the family in more than just the grudging way he currently does.”
“What happened to Cnut’s uncle?”
“He drowned at sea. Fell off his damn ship while in a storm. It caused Swein and Cnut a lot of problems. It would have been much easier if he’d lived and then on Swein’s death, he could have stood as regent in Denmark for Cnut. Men loved him. He was a good person, but less martial than Swein. He listened to men before he tried to kill them.” Leofwine flinched at the reminder of his injuries, but Hakon made no attempt to apologise. He was trying to shock. His anger was getting the better of him.
“What do you want me to do?” he asked Hakon. He’d been assuming all along that Hakon did have some plan in mind, for all that he’d been pretending not to.
“I said Leofwine, I don’t know, but Thorkell will cause greater problems in Denmark as soon as the weather improves. I think Cnut will leave England and go to Denmark. I think he’ll have no choice, and if he does so, well I have my suspicions that he’ll call on his other family to support him.”
“What, his first wife and his sons with her?” Leofwine was intrigued by the idea.
“Yes, the Danish men will do more for Cnut’s son than they will his brother by marriage. But, well. I hear that the Lady Ælfgifu has grown unpleasant in recent years, using her relationship to Cnut in any way she can to get what she wants. She has no experience of the English Court let alone how the Danish kingdom works. I think it’ll be a disaster.”
“So what would you have him do?”
“His son by Queen Emma. He must be taken to Denmark.”
“But he’s a boy, no more than a child. How old is he now?”
“A young boy, nearly four.”
Leofwine gasped at the audacity of the move.
“He’s no more than a babe. His mother won’t agree. She’s never even been to Denmark and cares little for it.”
“I know but she loves her husband, and she admires you Leofwine. She’ll agree if you present it to her.”
Leofwine narrowed his eyes at the man before him, his warm feelings about him evaporating almost as quickly as he’d had them. He’d not come to him first because he thought him better than the Danish earls but because he wanted to manipulate him into doing what he wanted. Perhaps his years helping his un
cle and father rule Norway had been put to better use than he thought.
“You’ll present the idea to the king?” he asked, his tone cautious. He didn't agree to anything without careful thought.
“If I have to, and you, you’ll make the queen do so.”
“I think her husband will have a greater say than I do. He is, after all, the boy’s father.”
“You might be right, but maybe not. I prefer to have more than one way to accomplish the means to the end. It’s something that Earl Godwine does well. I would suggest that you educate your son as well. This isn’t the same Court that Æthelred ruled over.”
Leofwine didn’t respond. He knew full well that little had changed since Cnut became King, the only main difference was that Denmark hovered on the periphery. Cnut and the rest of the Danish were delusional if they thought they’d brought anything new and different to the way the kingdom was run. Cnut wanted to rule as many lands as his father once had, he hungered for all of Sweden, all of Norway, but he needed peace to accomplish such a thing, and with Thorkell disaffected, it was unlikely that he was ever going to get that.
Was that what Earl Godwine wanted to bring about? Did he want Cnut to be king of only England? Did he want Cnut only to care about England? Perhaps, and he cursed himself for a fool for not realising sooner, there was far more to the game Godwine was playing than he’d first thought.
“I won’t force the queen to send her son away,” he said slowly. He needed to be careful now, not say something that he might commit his son to once he met his approaching death. “Neither will I oppose the resolution. I’ll offer the queen my counsel, nothing more.”
“My thanks, Earl Leofwine,” Hakon said, his face severe and purposeful, all traces of frustration and aggression gone. “Cnut is king of more than just England, and he never won’t be,” he cautioned, as though he’d been reading Leofwine’s thoughts. “Earl Godwine would do well to remember as much.”