by M J Porter
“Yes.”
“So it might just be a family falling out, not an attempt to undermine you.”
“It could be anything, but until I untangle what it is I can do little. Godwine is like a fly in my ear, but now Eilifr has joined him, outraged that his brother, my brother by marriage, is being made to look incompetent by Thorkell.”
“Yes, but is he or this another trick by someone who means your kingship ill?”
“I don’t know. But I’ll find out. Your father taught me it’s better to have all the facts first. I do try to remember that lesson.”
Leofric refrained from saying that having fifty ships full of trained shipmen was a long way from finding out the facts first. If it was possible for Thorkell and Cnut to reconcile peacefully, then it was worth the inconvenience and expense of a ship journey to Denmark.
Ribe itself seemed to be a busy trading centre as they approached it from the southern side of a large river, complete with a little wooden bridge to allow them to cross. Men and women, children and dogs, all stared at the cavalcade of their king and his allies making their way into the town, a small group of about fifty men in total, but more than enough to overwhelm the small community.
Leofric wondered when Thorkell would show his face, but as they made their way to the harbour on the edge of the town, past an area that appeared to be the central market area, he noticed a small stream of men walking towards them, Thorkell at their lead.
He didn’t have a horse and neither did he appear to be armed. This was to be a quiet discussion.
Cnut remained on his horse, but Leofric slid from his own, as did the rest of the men on Cnut’s command. Leofric was still close enough to be able to hear the greeting between the two men.
“My King,” Thorkell said, bowing low, no irony in his voice, just a statement of fact.
“Thorkell, my foster-father,” Cnut replied, not moving from his place on his horse but inclining his head as a show of respect to the man who could be credited with half-raising him, and certainly with teaching him how to fight.
“What brings you to Ribe?” Thorkell asked.
Cnut didn’t answer but asked his own question.
“Did you know I was coming?”
A faint smile touched Thorkell’s lips, and he walked so that his head was level with Cnut’s horse.
“Why else would there be horses waiting when you arrived?” Thorkell asked, and Leofric tensed at the implication in the words, while Cnut’s faced creased in the first grin that Leofric had seen in a very long time, perhaps since Thorkell had been banished.
“Then you have my thanks for your forethought.”
“And you have mine for doing exactly what I expected you to do.”
Leofric detected a trace of menace in Thorkell’s voice, but Cnut still seemed amused. He slid from his horse and walked toward Thorkell. Leofric felt his hand reaching for his short dagger even though no one else was at all alarmed. Did they already know what Cnut was about to do?
“Don’t worry Leofric,” Cnut called as he stepped into the welcoming embrace of Thorkell’s. “We’ve long been friends.”
Leofric watched, shocked as the two men reunited, just like that. No harsh words were spoken, nothing. It was as though they’d always known this was going to happen.
“What?” Leofric squawked in surprise.
“The King and I aren't enemies. For a time it appeared as though we would be, but it didn’t take me long to untangle the web of lies that had been spun.”
“So you knew you’d reconcile when you got here?” Leofric asked the king, almost accusingly. He felt as though he’d been played for a fool. Him and his father both.
“No, not for definite. But we made an agreement, and when I heard that Thorkell was in Ribe, I knew that it was reconciliation and not a war that was coming.”
“Well, you could have told me,” Leofric stuttered, still trying to unpick the sequence of events.
“If you’d been aware, the subterfuge wouldn’t have worked,” Cnut explained. He’d walked around the front of his horse, and still standing close to Thorkell; he seemed determined to explain everything to Leofric.
“Well, who’ve you been deceiving then? Godwine?”
“It was a test, nothing more, to see which of the earls could be trusted and which not.”
“So all of it’s been a game?” he pressed. He was trying to stay calm, but he could feel his temper growing.
“No, not a game, but I want strong men to rule with me, not men who only do what they want for themselves, or only those who follow the man they perceive as the leader.”
“So has Godwine been set up as well?”
“Oh yes, and Godwine has shown his own self-interests admirably, but he’s also demonstrated that he’ll take unpopular actions if he thinks they need to be made for the benefit of the kingdom.”
“And what have I shown you?” he asked. He almost didn’t want to know.
“You’ve shown me that you’re a man as honourable as your father. A man who’s keen to hear everything before he makes a decision. You’d have made a good king.”
Leofric flushed at the unexpected praise, but he was still angry.
“Why did we need all the men? All the ships? Why did I need to come when my father is so frail?”
“Because I’m not the threat,” Thorkell answered for the king. Neither man seemed offended by his angry outburst and constant questioning. Leofric was pleased to be treated as an equal, even if it was late in the day to be welcomed into the king’s private confidences.
“So we are going to war?” he pressed and glancing between the two men, the one far older than him, the other of age, he had a strangely disorientating moment when he felt as though he stood with his older brother and his father. Would this have been what his life would have been like if his brother had lived, and his father had been less frail?
He recognised the look that passed between the two men, one of allies and co-conspirators.
“Yes, we still go to war, only against my brother by marriage. It’s he who tries to undermine my leadership in Denmark. It’s he who attempts to claim the kingdom for himself.”
“Ulfr?” Leofric asked, wracking his brain to come up with the right name. “Earl Eilifr’s brother?” he almost gasped, the realisation slowly percolating through his mind. War with Ulfr would upset the balance of power within England as well as in Denmark. It seemed that England was not safe. Not yet.
“Yes, one and the same. I entrusted him with Denmark. It seems I was foolish to do so.”
“Why else would we have horses if we weren’t going to war?” Thorkell enquired then, as Leofric felt giddy excitement replacing the hollow of the anger he’d initially felt.
“What of my father? Why have you left him to cajole the queen into parting with her son, when he’s not needed here.”
“I need your father’s efforts to work even better than my own. The queen will not countenance her son coming to live in Denmark. She’s adamantly refused to heed my words. I hope your father can make her see sense where even I’ve failed?”
“And Earl Hakon?”
“As soon as I have peace here, and your father has my wife’s agreement, Harthacnut will come to Denmark, with Thorkell. He’ll guard my son just as he once guarded me and I, in return will raise one of his sons, one of the young ones from his marriage to the old king’s daughter. Not one of the older boys. They already fight with their father and have no need for a foster-father, rather more a marriage, but I have no daughters of age to suggest. Hakon will bring my son to me.”
Leofric didn’t know whom to look to first. He couldn’t quite believe how badly he’d misinterpreted the entire situation.
“Don’t berate yourself,” Thorkell offered him; his good cheer returned after the months he’d been held under suspicion in England. “To begin with even I was unaware of the king’s plans but to fool Ulfr, to have him feel safe and comfortable in Denmark so that he’d continue his
plotting, it was necessary for him to think I might be an ally.”
“And does he see you as one?”
“Yes he does,” Thorkell smirked. “Men who want a kingdom only see what they want to see. He thinks he has an ally to help him dissuade Cnut from making war against his own people. He believes incorrectly.”
“Are we taking all the men?” Leofric asked, suddenly remembering the thousands of men waiting on their ships, or the land close to the straggling coastline and sandy beaches.
“No, but I needed all the ships all the same,” Cnut responded. “I need to reassert my hold on Denmark, on the men in the Trelleborg forts. I might be forced to have them abandoned because they seem to be a hub to ferment trouble. The ship army will disperse around Denmark while a smaller force rides overland to Hedeby. I wanted it to be a complete reassertion of my hold on the kingdom. No half-hearted attempts would suffice.”
“What of your sister?” Leofric pressed. He understood she quite liked her husband.
“It was she who warned me of his treachery. It was she who demanded I take back Denmark.”
“I see,” Leofric uttered and then the time for words was passed, as Thorkell called for his own horse and the collection of suddenly expanded riders made their way back to the majority of the ships.
All the way back Leofric laughed to himself. Earl Godwine was going to be very pissed off.
Chapter 19
Leofwine
AD1022
Winchester
He woke with a start, forgetting for the time being where he was, and then when he did remember, he groaned in embarrassment. The queen, Emma as she’d decided to name herself even in private when she’d married Cnut, offered him a smile and a shake of her head.
This wasn’t the first time he’d slept in her presence, and the first time he’d almost prostrated himself in embarrassment, and she’d berated him so soundly for his silliness that he’d been forced to promise never to do it again, should he sleep. The problem was, her private rooms were always warm enough that the children could play without the need for heavy winter clothing, and because he’d only brought heavy winter clothing with him to Winchester, it sapped his strength and his commitment to staying awake. Every single time.
“Apologies my Lady,” he only said, and she smiled at him.
“I’m just glad you’re comfortable enough here that you can sleep. You always seem brighter when you wake.”
“I admit, I don’t sleep well at night when I’m not in my bed, but it doesn’t matter.”
“Then you should go home,” she offered. She held no fear encased in the palace at Winchester. She knew the English people loved her, they always had, even when her husband had been Æthelred and she’d once been accused of allowing the norsemen to take her town. Well, that wasn’t strictly true, but he knew it was how she liked to remember the past. What mattered was that she believed they would never cause her any harm, and with most of the earls in Denmark, she knew there were few who could organise an uprising. As Earl Hakon was, to all intents and purposes, regent in the king’s absence, and he commanded an accomplished force of household troops and had the charisma to charm most others, she felt safe and secure.
It was a pity he’d been sent to upset that calm resolve. He’d not yet managed to find the words to speak with her about Hakon’s claim that only Harthacnut’s presence could quell any unrest in Denmark. He needed to do it soon, though. He feared that any day news would come with the king’s demands for his son to join him.
He’d resolved to speak with her today, but he hadn’t yet managed to find the right words. He didn’t like to be caught speechless. He wasn’t used to it.
He stood and stretched, then noticing that he wasn’t the only one in the room asleep. The two children both seemed to have fallen under some spell when they played, and now sprawled all over the floor, furs beneath them, and on top of them. His granddaughter was among them, although his daughter was absent, about her duties for the Queen.
Ealdgyth had finally married the year before, and her choice of a husband couldn’t have pleased Leofwine more. Olaf, Horic’s son, had felt like a member of his family for many years already. He’d teased his daughter about how long it had taken her to choose, and she’d haughtily informed him that she’d wanted to be sure before she’d committed.
The queen followed his gaze and smiled fondly at the children.
“They grow well,” she offered, speaking of her son and daughter. “The king is proud of them, yet he already sees them as potent symbols of his kingship. I expected him to give them longer.”
“It's the way of fathers,” Leofwine said. “As soon as they know they have someone to take their place should they die, they try to mould them so that they become the same as them.”
“Why is that?” she asked, her voice serious.
“How else should men acknowledge that there is a perfect replica of them who can do everything they can do, only better, and without the same battles they’ve fought. Men think their sons should inherit their world, but not their struggles.”
“So it’s because they’re jealous?” she inquired, her eyebrows raised in surprise.
“Not jealous. But wary, always wary,” he offered, a small smile on his lips.
“You weren’t like that with your sons?”
“No, but I didn’t have a kingdom to give them, or even two.”
“And still you risked everything ….”
“I did, yes, and so did Northman. It stopped being my decision long before I thought it had. Northman was a strong willed boy. He wanted to do the things he did, be in danger. He felt it was his duty, but he must have enjoyed it as well. Why else would he have done it?”
“And Cnut, what does he have planned for his children?” Emma pressed. He wondered if he was being manipulated into revealing the real reason for his presence here, or if it was just a playful question. He quickly reconsidered. The queen was not immune to the whispered conversations that fled through the palaces.
“He wants to make Harthacnut a king, and probably, Gunnhilda a queen.”
“But he would need to die for Harthacnut to be a king,” she commented sourly, and then her gaze flickered to his and realisation sharpened her gaze.
“He would give him Denmark?” she asked, but it wasn’t a question. She held Leofwine’s gaze and then flickered to where her young son lay sleeping on the floor.
“He’s no more than a baby?” she gasped. “I thought he was only joking when he mentioned it in the past, but you know it, and so I assume does Earl Hakon. It was probably the damn boy’s idea.”
The queen bolted from her seat, upsetting her embroidery in the process, and rushed to the window to look outside at Winchester stretched before her. She wrapped her arms around her trembling shoulders. She stood there for long moments, Leofwine quiet behind her. He knew that she’d need time to think and consider what she’d just discovered. He almost wished he’d not been the one to present it to her.
“The king knows I don’t agree,” she hissed angrily into the silence, and then she turned to Leofwine, her face unexpectedly soft. “The king knows I won’t agree and so he sent you to speak on his behalf. He knows me too well. He knows that you’re my weakness, my oldest and sometimes only friend within the English nobility, and certainly amongst the Danish nobles. God, he’s a manipulative bastard.”
Leofwine didn’t know whether to be shocked or amused by her obvious anger and appreciation for her husband’s devious ways.
“Did you know it was the king’s wishes?” she asked urgently. She wanted to know how much she’d been manipulated, how much he had.
“I understood it was Earl Hakon’s idea. He came to me, concerned, made a plea for my support.”
“And then when your son was summoned by the king to go to Denmark, your presence was requested with me. I think we’ve both been cornered.”
She didn’t look angry with him, but her expression was pensive as she reclaimed her se
at and looked at him.
“What would you do if it were you? Would you let your child go to another country? I’ve already lost my older boys. I rarely hear from them other than in brief asides from my relatives in Normandy. And my daughter? The older one? She’s being haggled over as though she’s a piece of meat on the marriage market.”
Leofwine had known all along that it would come down to this. He’d never forced his wife to make the sort of decisions that Emma was being forced to, and he knew it. He felt disloyal to her, and yet there was something in her eyes that he thought meant she already knew she’d have to acquiesce quietly and quickly, or face further censure from her beloved younger husband.
And it could come down to only that. Cnut could distance himself from his wife if he needed to, but Emma needed her husband in ways she’d never needed Æthelred. Æthelred had manipulated her, but been weak with it. She’d almost always seen through his attempts at circumnavigating her wishes.
With Cnut, it was all very different, and sometimes Leofwine almost pitied her for loving him, because it was evident to everyone that she did. He also welcomed her ability to love Cnut. Her marriage to Æthelred hadn’t been a cold, lifeless marriage, as some of Cnut’s followers would have people believe, but it hadn’t been the union of two people who not only loved each other but desired each other as well.
“If I were you I would ensure my children were well-taken care off. If I had to let another raise them, then I would want to know who that was going to be and what choices were available to me. I would want to know what I had to gain, and what my children would be told about me.”
Emma held his gaze.
“What did Eadric do to your son?” she asked softly. They’d never spoken about it in the past. It had always been too raw a wound to add further salt to it.
“He tried to make him love him, that's all, and when that failed, then he tried to make him hate me. Neither worked. My son was too intelligent and too able to see through the lies and fakery. He was much older than Harthacnut.”
“So Eadric didn’t break him then?”