Northman Part 1

by M J Porter

  Edmund too dismounted and walked towards the small party, while the monk accompanied them. All the time Wulfstan and Hemming spoke, and then to a gasp of shock, he watched Cnut walk towards his father, and mount the horse that Edmund had just descended from.

  There was a small delay as Wulfstan and Hemming finished their conversation, but then the horses were turned, and Leofwine was on his way back towards the safety of the armed men. Northman watched him carefully, amazed at his resolve when he did not look back towards the closed gates.

  The men whispered about Cnut and who he was, but Northman was unable to enlighten them. His throat seemed to have gone completely dry, and fear had sucked all his strength from his legs. Would he see Leofric again?

  Back at the camp, a swirl of activity greeted the arrival of Cnut, and it was only much, much later that his father came to find him. He’d not been sleeping, but had moodily been throwing bits of pulled grass onto the fire that burned before him. Around him, men snored, and he wondered how they could sleep at a time like this.

  A touch on his shoulder and Northman followed his father to where they could talk without waking the other men.

  “I’m to return to Winchester with Cnut tomorrow. I have permission from the king to take you, but would just as much welcome you staying here to be close to your brother. The choice is your own, Northman. I’ll not make it for you. I understand that here you’re away from Eadric.”

  Northman had thought for barely a breath before he nodded, decided.

  “I’ll stay. I wouldn’t want to abandon Leofric.”

  “My thanks, son, your mother would be proud to hear you speak so.”

  “How could you let the king?” he whispered urgently, his fear in his wobbling voice.

  “I had little choice, but I also reasoned that if Thorkell is good enough for the Danish king’s son, then he is good enough for my own too. No harm will come to Leofric. Thorkell isn't so inclined, and nor are his men.”

  “Are you sure of that father?” he asked, hating himself for doubting his father.

  “Yes,” Leofwine said quietly, not elaborating further.

  “Who will care for Cnut?” he asked, realising his father didn’t want to talk about Leofric anymore.

  “I imagine he’ll stay with the king, but I’ll use the opportunity to get to know him better. I’ll do my best to remain at the king’s court. Cnut at least knows who I am, and I should use that to our advantage. Now, son, you must sleep. We’ll leave early in the morning. If you’re sleeping, I’ll not wake you. Any problems with Leofric, any at all, and send for me, or send Olaf to his father. He’ll know what to do. And Northman.”

  “Yes, father?”

  “My thanks for being such an honourable man.”

  As his father walked away from him, Northman glowed with the unlooked for praise. His father was a kind man, a strong man, and a loyal man and yet for all that he clearly loved him and his brother, he did not always tell them so. Being called a man now was a real sign of respect.

  During the next three days, the other hostages arrived, and for everyone who entered Oxford, one of Thorkell’s men was sent outside, to stay with the forces camped near Oxford. None were as important as Cnut and so they stayed with Athelstan.

  A sense of uncertainty continued to hang over the camp, for Thorkell sent no word of his decision about the payment of a geld although the fields around Oxford were rapidly harvested and the grain stacked outside the gates each evening. Even from the distance of the camp, they could hear the gates creaking open in the predawn lights, and when the daylight stole over the land, the food was gone each day.

  But that was it. No word came from the king, and no word came from Thorkell.

  Northman grew uneasy, as did Athelstan and the men in the camp. It was all taking far too long to resolve.

  And then, more than a week after the last hostage had been exchanged, the gates were seen to open during the day and from within Oxford a lone man rode, and then stopped. Athelstan, who’d been waiting for this very happenstance, rode his way down to the once more closed gates.

  The men were alert as they watched the solitary exchange, almost willing the gates of Oxford to open and the Raiders to pour forth so that they could stream down to them, and hopefully slaughter them all and drive them from the safety of the gates.

  But no such luck. A brief conversation and Athelstan was making his way back towards his armed men. His face was furious, and Northman dreaded to know what Hemming had said to him.

  A flurry of activity and a messenger was on the way to the king. He carried the message. The price had increased to £35000.

  Chapter 20

  Late Summer AD1009 – Leofwine – Winchester

  He was so undecided as to what to do for the best that his inaction had kept him at the king’s court for the last seven days. For once, he completely appreciated how the king must surely sometimes feel; overawed by the magnitude of a decision he didn’t want to make and attacked on all sides because of that indecision.

  How should he proceed for the best? Should he have stayed with his sons at Oxford, return to his wife, or stay by the king’ side so that he could work for his son's returns.

  He’d split his men, sending half to augment the troops at Oxford, a third of those who remained staying with him at Winchester. The rest he’d sent home to protect Æthelflæd. The people were uneasy, the news of Thorkell’s attack spreading with the advance of the harvest northwards towards the border with the land of the Scots and Leofwine shared that unease.

  News from the north had been sparse since Wulfnoth’s incursions, and that filled Leofwine with foreboding. What was to stop another raiding army attacking in the North? What if Thorkell’s fleet had split before they’d come to London and Oxford?

  Cnut was a sullen hostage. He was treated well by all, and Leofwine went out of his way to speak to him each day, but nothing could detract from the knowledge that the household troops watched his every move.

  The king too was curious about Cnut and spoke to him as often as he could. He wanted to learn as much as he could about Swein, about the reasons for Thorkell’s attack and Cnut held nothing back.

  He wasn’t exactly arrogant, but neither was he as docile as a baby deer. He knew much, and he realised how valuable his information was, and yet he dispersed it as freely as seeds in the wind.

  “My Lord Æthelred,” he began on only his first night at Winchester, “your hall is magnificent, your food excellent and your household troops strong and daunting. I hear nothing of where you train your men, how you train your people and how the strongest are chosen for the duty of protecting the kingdom.”

  Unsure what response Cnut was looking for, Æthelred had not spoken from his place at the table. It had been one of his other son’s, Eadwig, who’d asked what they were all thinking.

  “And how do those things get accomplished in your land.”

  Cnut had smirked then, and leant back in his chair, waiting for all around him to focus on him and listen to his words. When they came, they were devastating in their effect upon the morale of the men.

  “My father has had built or is in the process of creating, four special villages geared only for the warriors in his armies. I will tell you the names of the villages for they will mean nothing to you: Trelleborg, Fyrkat, Nonnebakken and Aggersborg. There the men and boys are trained and selected. Only the most skilled earn their places in the standing army, the rest can stay and train and learn, but they are not the ones who the king will call on first to defend his lands.”

  “And how many men are within each village?”

  “At least one thousand men in each one, allowing him to call upon a force of four thousand at any one time.”

  Leofwine had stilled at that huge number of men, seemingly ready at the will of his king, and a hush had fallen within the large room.

  “And these men are here with Thorkell?” Leofwine queried, knowing that the king wouldn’t ask the question, al
though he wanted to know the answer, his posture tense as he pretended he wasn’t listening to the conversation.

  Cnut smirked at him, pleased with the reception his words were having.

  “No my lord not all of them. Those are the king’s men, and although Thorkell has been allowed to bring a small proportion of the men, these warriors are mostly Thorkell and Hemming’s men. I would say they’re no less well trained, but they look to those men and not to my father.”

  “Your father’s well-trained troops are no great threat to us then,” Leofwine opined, “but it’s good to hear the king makes excellent use of the geld paid to him a few years ago.”

  Cnut shot Leofwine an appraising look, and then as the conversation in the room returned to its normal level, Eadric joined the conversation, and things took a turn for the worst.

  For some reason, Cnut took an instant dislike to Eadric, and not that Leofwine didn’t understand his antipathy for the man, but it certainly made Cnut’s stay with the king a lively thing.

  “Thorkell thinks highly of you to send you as his hostage?” Eadric asked lightly, contempt dripping from his voice as he picked at his food before him, pretending disinterest.

  “No my Lord, Eadric, is it not? Thorkell knows that your king will not harm the son of the Danish king when they’ve only recently made terms, and he has an army of four thousand men ready to seek revenge if anything should befall me.” His tone was matter of fact, his interest elsewhere in the crowded room, and he showed no respect for the Mercian earl. Leofwine harboured a belief that somehow Cnut knew that Eadric was in disgrace with his king.

  Eadric spluttered at the response,

  “So your father will approve of you being used as a hostage?”

  “My father believes that Thorkell is the best man to be my foster father. If he can’t raise me himself, then he believes his great friend and commander should fulfil that role. Whether he approves or not is irrelevant. It is not his choice to make, and anyway, I offered to come.”

  It was Leofwine’s turn to look at Cnut with interest now. When they’d met briefly with Swein, he’d known that there was something about the boy. That was why he’d made the effort to make friendly overtures to him. Now he realised that he’d probably been right. The youth was intelligent.

  “To partake of the king’s hospitality?” Eadric pressed.

  “No, to see who the king respects and who he does not.”

  Leofwine suppressed a smirk at the outrageous statement and the furious look on Eadric’s. He somehow felt he could like Cnut far more than he ever had Eadric. His bluntness reminded him of Olaf, and he felt a little pang of regret at the sudden flash of memory for the man he’d known for only a matter of weeks but who’d affected the course of his life ever since.

  Undaunted Eadric pressed for more information,

  “And what have you found so far?” he baited the young prince of Denmark.

  “That some of the men are bags of wind and others are men of action. I don’t think you would like me to make my views common knowledge, but if you ask anymore, I’ll have no choice.” Boredom, forced or not, infected his speech, in stark contrast to the effect his words were having on Eadric.

  Moodily returning to his food, Eadric cast dark glances Cnut’s way. Cnut ignored them, his focus on the women of the court.

  “Thorkell, he is a good foster-father?” Leofwine asked into the lull.

  “Yes, the best. He’ll care for your son, as he would his own, don’t fear for him. Provided your king is honourable, Swein will be just as noble.”

  Somewhat mollified, Leofwine lapsed into silence. The food the king served to his hostage and the hall at large was exquisitely cooked, and yet it tasted like nothing to Leofwine.

  His thoughts were with his sons, his wife, and his other children, and also the men of his household troop, almost as much family as his marriage family. He hoped the king would find a quick solution to the problem of Thorkell, but he doubted it.

  And his fears were well founded. When the messenger came back from Oxford that the geld demanded had now increased to £35000 the king’s rage was monumental. In a rare moment of decision, he had Cnut packed and on his way back to Oxford before the ink on the parchment he also sent with it, had dried.

  His offer was simple, £5000 to leave, or Thorkell could have Cnut back, and the king would have his hostages back, and the war of attrition could continue as it must.

  There were shocked murmurs around the court when the king’s decision was known, but Leofwine approved of his stance, and not just because it meant his son would be freed. He didn’t dare contemplate Thorkell reacting angrily and killing his son. He didn’t seem the sort of man to take his revenge on almost innocent children

  The court became of swirl of activity. The king suspected that Thorkell would refuse the offer and he wanted to be ready for any retreat from Oxford. Messengers raced to Mercia, Northumbria and the lands of the East Angles, demanding that the fyrd be gathered and put on high alert. The king wanted to be ready to face the Raiders in battle if necessary.

  Sadly, the king’s distraction with the Raiders worked in Eadric’s favour, and after another interview with the king, that Leofwine had the misfortune to witness, Eadric won his opportunity to redeem himself and leave the king’s side. He raced to Mercia to gather his fyrd himself. Leofwine watched him go, confident that they’d not see him again anytime soon and grateful that in his rush, he’d forgotten all about his foster child.

  Into the maelstrom of activity, the archbishop Wulfstan calmly stepped, and Leofwine listened to his new ideas with interest. He’d planned long and hard and actually believed that if the king wanted victory and peace he needed to do more that just issue a coinage embodying peace. Wulfstan now wanted Æthelred to call for a nationwide reaction to the raids, a nationwide religious reaction. He believed that king should call for a penance from all, before Michaelmas, for three days. He thought a fast, a church service and a geld raised during the penance would go a very long way towards ensuring that they had God on their side for any coming battle.

  Leofwine swelled with joy at the ideas of the archbishop and Æthelred grasped the idea firmly, perhaps regretting his hasty words when he’d sent Cnut from the court and refused to pay the geld. This was another excellent way to counter the attacks, one not considered before. It would be a complete penance. Even slaves freed from their duties for three days to pray for the good of the country.

  In fact, the entire court readily accepted the idea, and more hasty activity commenced as messengers were sent fleeing across the land. The king produced an official code of conduct to be read to all so that they understood how important their actions would now be. Surely, if the entire country united in faith, their God would drive back the wicked Raiders?

  A day passed, and then two, and finally a small troop arrived, with Leofric amongst them, and all knew that Thorkell had refused the geld, and was determined to hold onto Oxford. That was the one slight piece of good news. Thorkell had made no move to leave Oxford and had in fact called more of his fleet to join him there.

  Leofric and the king’s son had been well treated, and said that the people of Oxford, those who’d survived the initial attack, were under no threat from their new Lords, for what point was there in being a Lord, even if only temporarily, of people too dead to work for you? Instead, Thorkell allowed everyone to go on as they had before, they only change being that they couldn’t leave Oxford, and any who did were immediately executed.

  Leofwine greeted Leofric with joy, the king, his son the same, and then they were debriefed, every little nuance of information extracted from the boys.

  Leofric looked haunted by his experience, but in a matter of two days was back to his usual self. Northman had refused to leave the encampment, and Leofwine knew a moment of combined pride and grief. What if his boy came to harm?

  With permission from the king, he withdrew from Bath, where the king had temporarily relocated, knowing it was
one of his halls that were even further away from Oxford. The king wasn’t running away from the threat, but he was showing more wisdom than he had for many years. From Bath, he issued more details about the countrywide penance and held out hope that Thorkell would over-winter at Oxford. If the Raiders were just in one place, it would make it easier to keep track of their movements.

  Returning to Deerhurst, Leofwine stopped by the turning that would have taken him to Oxford, and spent a moment pondering the wisdom of retrieving his son and taking him home with him. Realising that Northman would react violently to such an impingement on his attempts to grow up, Leofwine travelled with a heavy heart. His son had his blessing, but he’d rather have his son where he could see his every move.

  Beside him, Leofric talked almost none stop about Swein, Hemming and Eglaf and Leofwine realised that his son was more than a little smitten with the fierce warriors invading their lands. It would serve him well. Respect for their enemies would ensure that as a man he never underestimated their abilities. If the Raiders still plagued the lands then. Leofwine prayed to his God that they wouldn’t, but could see no end in sight. If only the penance worked. If only.

  Chapter 21

  AD1009 – Northman - Near Oxford

  Rain fell heavily all throughout the night, daylight bringing little change to the conditions. Sat within his tent, Northman felt a little miserable. He was cold and felt like he had been for the last three days. He had every layer of clothing he could find wrapped around his body, but it didn’t alleviate the chill. The fire smouldered outside the tent, fighting the rain and the damp wood, and the spirit of the camp was muted.

  They’d been in position now for almost two months, and nothing had happened. Not one thing. There was no prospect of actually making battle with Thorkell, and every day, more and more of the ships and men of Thorkell’s army arrived to overflow the gates of Oxford. Small tents now propped up the outer defences in the area furthest away from where the English encamped and Northman was just as aware as everyone else that the quantity of tents increased each day.