Northman Part 1

by M J Porter

  Northman watched the king carefully. He fancied himself becoming an expert on how to read men. His father was perhaps too caught up in the idea of Æthelred as his king and failed to see the man behind the title. Northman thought he was beginning to understand him. He appeared to be a strong man, but a weak king, a strange juxtaposition that he couldn’t quite reconcile.

  He gave the matter much thought. At his age, all of twelve, Æthelred had already been king in name for a few years. He’d grown up knowing who he had to be, and he’d reached maturity under the watchful eye of his mother and his father’s older ealdormen.

  Northman thought he wouldn’t have much liked that himself. Until he’d come to Eadric’s house he’d been allowed to be his own person. His parents had tried to allow him to become himself, to show him right from wrong, to imbibe him with the correct amount of respect for his parents, his Church and his brothers, sisters and other children. They’d not pushed him one-way or the other. Not like in Eadric’s household.

  In the home of Eadric, he’d quickly learnt that others expected to control him, almost as though he was an extension of their own person. It made him think even less highly of Eadric, while at the same time appreciating the logic of having your household think and act as you would. He’d once tried to stand up to Eadric when he disagreed with him on a matter of justice, but he’d learned very quickly that his opinions mattered for nothing. He wondered if that was how Æthelred had been raised; to think as he was told and never utter a word against it. It was an interesting thought. But if that was what had happened, why would he have grown into a strong man, but a weak king? No, he decided, something else must have happened to make him as he was.

  The king was not much older than his father, and yet he seemed a little greyed now, a little sunken and his eyes were no longer quite as quick to flash with humour or annoyance as they once had been. Northman wondered if the king had finally learned to hide his thoughts, or whether he was just tired of his bickering ealdormen with their conflicting advice.

  “Do you know how much it would cost to build ships and arm the men?” the king asked into a semi-silence that had fallen as Eadric appeared to have finally run out of things to say against the idea.

  “As a rough idea, it’s been discussed that every three hundred and ten hides provide for a ship and from every eight a helmet and byrnie.”

  The king fixed his father with a keen eye.

  “You’ve given this much thought,” a statement, not a question.

  “Not just me my Lord, the archbishop has assisted me, and some of his clerics have produced those figures.”

  The king’s eyes swept from where his father was talking earnestly to his king from his place at the front of the Witan, to where Wulfstan was keeping his own place amongst the churchmen. Northman wondered if the king looked a little angry, but quickly decided he was more intrigued than anything.

  “Eadric, this doesn’t seem like a huge burden for the people. What are you wittering on about?”

  “My Lord, and father,” Eadric began, his face blotching with colour as he felt the eyes of everyone in the room on him.

  “I hadn’t realised it would be so little. I’d thought it'd take far more taxes to build so many ships and outfit the men. Your figures are correct?” he asked acidly, his eyes on Leofwine although it was Wulfstan who answered.

  “As they can be my Lord and my king. They're taken from as many accounts as could be found of modern shipbuilding.”

  Eadric turned to glance at Wulfstan, his stance immediately a little more deferential for all that Northman knew he hated the interfering archbishop.

  “So you’re arguing against something without all the facts, and trying to cite our family relationship as a way of enforcing your opinion?” the king asked Eadric coolly. “And my daughter, why is she not here?”

  Eadric bowed low to the ground, and Northman suppressed a sigh of irritation at the honeyed words, oiled with insincerity.

  “She grows near her time of delivery, and decided it wasn’t safe to travel. She is of course well, and looking forward to providing you with another grandchild.”

  The king didn’t seem at all impressed by the words, almost as if the notion that he would become a grandfather was distasteful to him, a reminder of his age, Northman thought, and an unwelcome one at that.

  Brushing aside his son by marriage, Æthelred looked at the assembled men and women before him. There was a hush over the entire room, no sound stirred, not even the squawk of a chicken or the lowing of a cow from outside where daily life continued as normal. It was as if the world waited on the answer the king might give.

  “And where would we station our ships, and how many ships would this give us, and how many men could we outfit, and where would they all come from?”

  Northman watched his father’s back with interest. Did he have all the answers to these questions? The king liked answers.

  “More than a hundred my Lord,” Leofwine spoke calmly and matter of factly, consulting a piece of parchment in his hand. “Each ship would have roughly forty men so we would need four thousand of them, and they would need to be trained in basic seamanship.”

  The king turned sharply to Leofwine at the mention of so many men, in ships, facing the Raiders.

  “So many! That should more than double any force that has yet come against us,” his voice sounded calm but excited, and Northman knew there and then that the king had already decided that the answer would be yes. He wanted a fleet of ships. He wanted that force. He already imagined the damage it would inflict. Northman felt the excitement stir within him. Here was something that would make a man out of him.

  “It's a clever idea my Lord, but where would we get so many men to command the ships?”

  “Eadric, you’re annoying me,” the king said without preamble. “This is an excellent idea and one I am almost minded to agree to immediately without asking for further thoughts, but you, you seem determined to knock down this attempt. Why is that?” he asked harshly, his voice angry for all that his face stayed calm.

  “No, my Lord, of course, I’m not trying to deter you. I just think … we need to give the matter more thought.”

  “I disagree with you, but I’ll discuss my thoughts with you at a more convenient time. For now, I would like to hear more about how the ship army would be built and where we would house it.”

  Wulfstan had now taken to his feet. His head bowed towards the king.

  “My clerics have drawn up a lengthy document detailing many of these things. It would please me to make more of the details known.”

  “Excellent, come on then.”

  And so the room returned to almost silence, only the voice of Wulfstan rising and falling as he spoke of where the wood could be found for the ships. And further, of the men who could build the ships and the pros and cons of stationing the ships at Sandwich as a fleet, or dotted around the coastal regions, and where the men should come from and who should command the ships.

  Northman was amazed. He could only imagine that the entire winter months had been spent gathering the intelligence that Wulfstan, and apparently his own father, had at their fingertips.

  They knew of ship builders in all the main ports, and many had already said they would happily put aside all other work for the next year and build for their king, and their safety.

  Infected with enthusiasm for the project, those of the king’s thegns who fancied themselves as more ships commanders than tax collectors, spoke amongst themselves of how they could manage the men.

  As it went on, Eadric’s lips curled unhappily as he switched his angry gaze from the serene back of Leofwine to the austere and well dressed archbishop Wulfstan. Somehow, and Northman wasn’t entirely sure how Eadric needed to gain the upper-hand here. Northman found it unsettling to realise that he had no difficulty in believing that Eadric would manage to bring about a complete reversal of opinion. He thought it would do him a lot of good to keep watching the many faces of
Eadric. He’d learn yet another way of deceiving those who trusted if he watched closely enough.

  And then a thegn Northman didn’t know or recognise, stood and waited for the king to call the rest of the Witan together. He waited patiently, not seeming concerned that the king was so slow in noticing him. Slowly silence began to fall amongst those who spoke, and it wasn’t at the king’s request, but more out of respect for the man.

  Northman watched him with interest. He seemed a self-assured sort of man, not as old as his own father, but apparently confident enough that he was prepared to put himself so much on display and face being completely ignored by the king. By rights he should have been ignored, only the rest of the Witan hadn’t been so keen to hear what he had to say.

  “Yes good thegn,” the king finally asked, his gaze settling on the man, his eyes a little narrowed but his stance easy for all that. He was just as intrigued as the other men.

  “My king, I’m Wulfnoth, and I have my own ships, four of them all told.” He shrugged in a self-depreciating manner at his admission, aware that he spoke of his wealth with pride but that others might mock him for its meanness. “And I have shipmen, and I know of other shipmen, and I know of other thegns who would be able to crew and command the ships that the king intends to build. I would be pleased to oversee as many of these ships as the king thinks I should.”

  A low murmur ran round the room, and Northman watched Eadric’s face darken further. Not for the first time, Northman wondered why the idea so infuriated his foster-father. Surely he didn’t think that he could arrange to protect the land solely on his own.

  Now Æthelred was intrigued,

  “And your shipmen. What do they do in your ships?”

  “We trade, we fish, we sail, and we get to know the lay of the coast. And when the winter comes, we stay at our homes, and we repair our sails or make new ones. My king,” he added hastily.

  “And how do you support these ships and your men?”

  Wulfnoth looked thoughtful now,

  “The men are my commended men, just as on the land, only the commanders owe me for their ships and only some small piece of land. The shipmen and warriors are sometimes my commended men, and sometimes they are just bound to me. Some, I confess, are slaves.”

  “And these others you speak of, are they the same as you? Men of land and also ships?”

  “Yes, my Lord king. We build our homes and then we build our ships, or maintain ships passed down to us.”

  “It’s interesting to know how your ships are managed. And you have my thanks for speaking out. When my ships are built, I will ensure that you are made commander over some of them. Again, my thanks.”

  Realising he’d been dismissed, Wulfnoth sat down, his face a little flushed. The king had done him a great honour, although he didn’t seem to realise that it had been his words that had further swayed the king to the idea of building the ship army.

  “Members of the Witan, I think, as I’m sure you agree, that this idea is the best chance we have of defending our shores. If we can stop the Raiders before they make landfall, then they will be able to do us no harm. Those who have spoken of this, and especially my archbishop Wulfstan and Ealdorman Leofwine, you have my thanks for your time and consideration. I will have the scribes draw up details of how much tax must be collected and where the ships should be built, and where we should then muster. For now, I think that we should discuss matters of law.”

  And that was the end of any debate. The king had spoken, the ships would be built, and Northman felt a flutter of excitement. Like king Swein and his son Cnut, he would very much like to go to sea, to understand the way the ships sliced through the water. His father’s ship, moored with the few others of the king’s sometimes standing ship army, had long been far away from home and he’d not been in it since he was a small boy. Hopefully, that would all change now.

  His father turned and winked at Northman as if hearing his very thoughts, and he grinned widely back at him, before Olaf nudged him in warning. Eadric was glaring at him, and he looked very much less than pleased.

  Amongst the row of thegns close to Wulfnoth, Northman could clearly see Eadric’s brothers and father bickering amongst themselves. Unable to stop himself, his eyes rolled in aggravation at the men, and when Olaf stood firmly on his foot in warning, he looked away, avoiding Eadric’s eyes and focusing instead on the king’s many sons.

  Athelstan was sitting quietly, his eyes downcast. His brothers did the same and Northman admired their resolve all over again. They were circumspect in their every movement, and word spoken within the Witan. Northman knew for a fact that, no matter how thorough his father’s training had been, he’d never have been able to sit quietly by while his father made decisions without reference to them. He relied on his ealdormen and his thegns and his ecclesiastics but never consulted his sons. He happily sent them to war, or to do his bidding within the lands he controlled, but he never asked them what they thought on a matter of law. Even Northman realised that he denied his sons a thorough grounding in statesmanship. Not that it seemed to be stopping them from building their own power bases.

  Northman knew that his father thought highly of Athelstan and his next oldest brother, Edmund. He’d also grieved when Ecgberht had died of contagion. He’d been young, and his death made Northman feel a little cold. It just showed that there was no guarantee of reaching manhood. Even in times of peace.

  The king spoke at some length then, about the laws he wished to change or make but Northman wasn’t listening, his mind focused on the future glory he envisaged. Him, with some of Horic’s countrymen at his command, manning the most mobile and responsive ship in the king’s soon to be fleet, earning the king’s undying respect and land and riches beyond his wildest dreams.

  The time passed quickly, and then, finally, he was able to slink away from Eadric’s still furious face, and spend time with his father and his father’s men. In the company of the other men, Northman did something he hadn’t done since entering Eadric’s household, he relaxed and laughed and smiled, listening with joys to the tales of misfortune that had occurred to his younger brothers and sister in his absence. It was only with a heavy heart that he turned his back on his father’s men and retired when Eadric bid him to his bed. Being with the others had made him remember how much he was missing out on. He hoped that soon he’d be allowed home.

  Chapter 11

  Early Winter AD1008 – Northman

  The first faint stirrings of winter were wrapping themselves around the land, and atop his horse, he pulled his cloak a little tighter and tugged his gloves on a bit more snuggly. He was cold with his breath steaming in front of him, but he knew that Eadric had no intention of seeking shelter anytime soon and so resolved himself to overcoming his discomfort.

  At the king’s command, Eadric had been sent to inspect the shipbuilding taking place at London. The waterfront and dock area was awash with noise and a sea of men, busy about their business, purposeful in their every movement. Northman felt out of place beside Eadric, who was doing his very best to show off his total ignorance at all things ship related. Northman realised that he knew far more about the process than Eadric for all that he’d not been on a ship since he’d been a small boy.

  The ship builder trying to oversee the building of the fifty ships that had been ordered was quickly losing his patience with the officious ealdorman and Eadric was too blind to see it. Not for the first time, Northman wondered how the man, who was so often quick witted when dealing with those he didn’t like, could be so slow and bumbling in situations that he should have been able to control and dominate. There was no point in denying that by the end of the week, news of Ealdorman Eadric’s complete ignorance would be known around the entire shipyard and probably far further afield as well. Northman wondered why he’d not researched how the men would build the ships before coming here. He knew his father would have done so.

  Beside Eadric, his brother, Brihtric, was transfixed by what he
was seeing. Ever since the Witan at Enham he’d been keen to see the ships being constructed and to know who would be commanding them. Northman found it unfair that Brihtric was apparently angling for a ship’s command, even though he was completely unsuitable for it, while he was offered nothing. Neither his father or Eadric had asked if he’d like to be trained as a shipman and he felt deeply annoyed at their oversight.

  He sighed deeply, and Olaf leant over to nudge him.

  “Keep your temper under wraps. I don’t think he’s forgiven you yet for the incident with the dog.”

  Northman jumped at the nudge and sighed at the reminder. Eadric and his hound didn’t get on, and sometimes Northman felt as though Eadric went out of his way to ensure that the hound was tempted to snarl or snap at him. For no one else did the dog show even the smallest bit of temper. Eadric was his sole source of strife and Eadric knew it and exploited it as a means of infuriating Northman.

  The latest incident had occurred when they’d been out hunting, and the hound had unwittingly caused Eadric to miss a large deer, simply by being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Days later Eadric was still to be heard decrying his lack of venison that evening and his mood was black whenever Northman was brought to his attention.

  He’d been surprised when Eadric had commanded that he join him on this journey. He’d fully expected to be left at his home, keeping his wife and new child company. And Eadric’s grumpy father. He was pleased that he hadn’t been, or at least he had been. Now he wasn’t too sure. Better to have stayed home than witness this.

  The master ship builder was from the lands of the Five Boroughs, a proud man and evidently well skilled in managing his people, and building ships. A massive stockpile of beautiful Mercian Oaks was piled on the dry land, and everywhere Northman looked men were preparing the wood for the ships. The sound of axes on wood echoed encouragingly in the small space. Some men sang as they worked, others muttered to themselves and yet more laughed and joked above the carcases of the ships they were constructing.