by M J Porter
Even she turned hate filled eyes towards her husband, but Northman realised that the full blame could not be laid at Æthelred’s door. This was something that he couldn’t have foreseen.
There had been no word from Thorkell as to his intentions. Money hadn’t swayed him in East Anglia, although, if Northman was to be believed, it had done at Oxford. Or had there been something else? Had it not been money that Eadric had gifted to Hemming?
“My Lord,” his father stood, and Northman feared for him. Always he’d been conciliatory in his approach to Eadric. It had done him no good, but the belief that he worked for an overwhelming purpose had always driven him. Northman wondered how he could correct the situation now.
“Leofwine?” the king responded amongst the cries and shouting. Leofwine waited for a semi-silence to fall, still interrupted with the occasional outraged comment, but as quiet as he could hope for.
“My Lord,” Leofwine said again, his voice steady, “Many wrongs have befallen our land of late, and in only a short space of time. Despite this, and despite any implied wrong-doing, we must act as one, stay together, and fight this threat as best we can.”
Angry voices greeted the reasonable words, and Northman flinched for his father. Once more, he was putting himself firmly in the line of fire.
“We must work together, put aside our differences until a time presents itself that allegations of treachery can be dealt with as they should be.”
“And when should that be, Ealdorman Leofwine? When Thorkell the Tall and Olaf the Stout sit in the place of our king, the path there greased by the Ealdorman of Mercia’s wishes and desires, his treachery?”
Uhtred of Northumbria was candescent with rage, his voice mocking and it was he who received cheers of appropriation from the assembled body.
“No, my Lord Uhtred, it must not be then. But neither should it be when the forces of the ealdorman are already raised and answerable only to him. I would suggest, with the king’s forgiveness for my outspokenness, that Eadric has his position augmented with the support of Athelstan, a man above reproach in this and every endeavour for his father and our king.”
A half hush had fallen at the idea, and Leofwine took a moment to compose himself. He stood tall and straight, Hammer under his outstretched hand, but still, to stand so alone against a host of others was brave. His eyes flickered uncertainly, and Northman genuinely admired him at that moment. His words made sense, so much sense that his plans slotted into place.
Athelstan scrambled to his feet, keen to agree to this change of tactic,
“My Lord Father it would please me to act on Ealdorman Leofwine’s suggestion. The Mercian lands are enormous, with far too many men for the command of just one man. It would,” and here he floundered desperately for a word that would be neutral, “reduce any risk,” he finished a little feebly.
Edmund too was on his feet,
“And likewise, I could offer my support to any other areas where the ealdormen could do with an extension of the king’s authority.”
Edmund’s supporters murmured their agreement, but there were still many who were unhappy, and Uhtred gave voice to the fears of those.
“And so Eadric walks away again without punishment?”
“I don’t call having to live with the knowledge of the lives not saved as going without punishment. Until this threat, this overwhelming stampede of violence against our people is contained, we can’t afford the threat of an open split in the governance of the land,” Leofwine spoke candidly, not disagreeing with Uhtred’s words, but not condoning them either.
Eadric’s eyes blazed with anger, his brothers beside him, and any moment now, Northman expected him to walk out of the king’s hall, vowing never to return.
Sadly, no amount of whispering and vitriol could move Eadric. Stony-faced he waited for the king to make his judgement.
Æthelred, sunken in his wooden chair, met the eyes of no one. This was his decision to make, and he must, as always live with the consequences.
“As you will,” he finally said, “Athelstan, my son, you're temporarily a fellow ealdorman of Mercia. You will govern and act in my name, and you have the power to act against Eadric if his decisions are detrimental to my reign, although, I pray God they’ll not be.”
Athelstan bowed at the honour his father had bestowed upon him, as Eadric opened his mouth to countermand the king’s words.
“Eadric, you have this final opportunity to prove your loyalty. If not, you will lose everything, including your life. Now, we have more important things to discuss than this. We must mount a defence, curtail the actions of Thorkell. Suggestions?”
And the Witan was a hubbub of discussion again. Everyone had their ideas as to how the Raiders could be stopped.
In the suddenly relaxed atmosphere, Northman moved to his father.
“Son,” Leofwine said as he sat heavily down. Exhaustion marked his body, and Northman wondered how he could still be standing after the exertions of the last few weeks.
“Father, I’ve come to apologise. Your words last night were justified. I must learn to listen to others with greater knowledge than I yet have.”
“Should you son?” his father asked tiredly, “I may just have made a terrible decision and in doing so, put the king’s son at terrible risk.”
“Yes, but you might also have saved the country from a civil war.”
Smiling sadly at Northman’s assessment of the situation, Leofwine motioned for him to sit down beside him.
“No, I shan’t.”
“Why?” his father asked, but Northman had the distinct impression he already knew what he was going to say.
“I have a foster-father I must serve,” and ignoring the resignation that flooded down Leofwine’s face, Northman walked from his father towards the outraged Eadric and his equally vociferous brothers. This wasn’t going to be a pleasant experience, but he was the only one of them who could truly get close to Eadric. He might have evaded him at Thetford, determined to be in the coming battle, but Eadric was so vain he would think Northman capable of deserting his father. And Northman could use that.
Chapter 28
AD1010 - Leofwine – Deerhurst – After Mid Winter
At last, the snows had fallen, and a delightful silence enveloped the land. Thorkell and his men were locked up tight in Canterbury for the dark winter months, and so, for the first time since Easter, Leofwine felt as though he could take his ease a little.
The fyrds had done their best to evade the Raiders and dissuade them from further attacks. They’d been unsuccessful, the raiding parties reaching as far inland as Northampton. They’d attacked and burnt the place, just another name to add to those already fired and devastated.
Leofwine dreaded to think of the atrocities being committed by the Raiders and felt powerless to prevent them.
Æthelflæd fluctuated between rage and pride at her oldest son’s activities and rage and anger at her husband for letting him do so. Leofwine knew that whatever he said would be ineffectual and unwelcome, and so he spoke little and pondered much.
His younger children were his comfort, although his daughter was as haughty as her mother. At ten years old, she was good company, when she forgot her anger at her father and spent much of her time speaking to Wulfstan, desperate to hear as much about her father’s childhood as she could. Leofwine had wondered whether he should caution Wulfstan and his tall tale telling, but Æthelflæd had made him hold his tongue. Wulfstan enjoyed the story telling, and Ealdgyth would spend the next day pestering him to know whether the stories were true or not.
But despite the deep snow, the work of the Witan didn’t stop. It simply couldn’t. Some way out of the terrible predicament had to be reached, and in the depths of winter, when all was quiet, Leofwine finally made his most difficult decision to date. Come the warmer weather, he'd once more step foot inside a ship, and he'd travel to Denmark and beg if need be, king Swein to recall Thorkell and his son. And if that failed, he would a
sk for his assistance in having Thorkell accept their offer of payment.
The decision reached, he took Horic and Oscetel into his confidence, and they plotted and schemed as much as they could in the closed quarters of the house. Come the first warm day; they would leave. His ship would be pressed into service, and by travelling by sea, Horic would guide them to Denmark.
While preparations were made, he continued to hear intelligence from his son about Eadric’s movements, and he learned of Athelstan’s growing ties with the Mercian Reeves and lesser nobility. Eadric was embittered, but there was little he could do. While Athelstan spent his winter months in Lichfield, Eadric sulked in his Shropshire home, receiving messages from the king grudgingly, and offering no words of help. He was a lost cause, and even he must have seen his time running out as Ealdorman.
Finally, the day arrived when they must leave England and seek out Swein. Only the night before had Leofwine informed Æthelflæd of his plans. She had fluctuated between anger and pride in her husband’s decision, and her tears surprised him when he took his leave from her. He promised to return, but they both knew he’d decided on a desperate course of action. Anything could befall them at sea, and there was no surety that he would return at all.
Oscetel didn’t accompany him. In his absence he would govern in his stead, with the help of Æthelflæd, and although it wasn’t necessary to keep their mission a secret from the king, it was thought best to be careful about whom they told.
Stepping into the ship, Leofwine felt a deep feeling of premonition and for a fleeting moment, he considered not going at all. Perhaps he could simply send a messenger? Maybe Finn would go in his stead, but he knew in his heart that he needed to go. No other had any tie with Swein.
His ship had been prepared and was ready, manned with a full compliment of shipmen, and he greeted his ship’s captain amicably. He’d not often seen him in the intervening years since his injury, but the man had served him impeccably well. The ship was always ready for battle, always seaworthy when it needed to be.
“It’ll be an exciting journey,” he offered, as Leofwine scrambled abroad, Hammer with him, and Leofwine quirked a smile.
“I don’t doubt it will be.”
And yet, for all his fears, things seemed to go well. The ship, birthed on the small stretch of his coast, had a long journey to make, around the dragons leg of the far West, and then ever onwards. Initially, they travelled close to the coast, but when they neared the Isle of Wight, they moved further out to sea in the hope that they’d avoid the shipmen of Thorkell and his allies. No intelligence had reached them of whether the enemy was still on land or whether they’d returned to their ships, and they wanted to take no chances. If they were intercepted so far out to sea, they’d never reach Swein and Leofwine would never be able to bargain with him to arrest Thorkell’s successes.
Surprisingly, and against all the odds, they made it through the seaways that Horic had thought Thorkell would be monitoring. He muttered about the arrogance of the man, and Leofwine agreed with him, only for Leofwine it showed just how fearless Thorkell was of anything the English king could throw at him.
Horic had decided that they should put ashore as soon as they were sure they were in the lands of the Danish king. As such he chose a place he called Ribe. He said from there they could find out where Swein was then residing. Unsure of the probable reception they would receive, Horic asked to be put ashore in a sheltered cove, a day’s walk from Ribe. With his son, he said he'd travel to Ribe and find out what he could.
The weather was bitterly cold, the seasons a little delayed to those in England, and for two days Leofwine and his men sat and shivered within their ship, none wanting to go ashore for fear of a hostile encounter.
Only when the short day was ending on the second day did Horic arrive, and he didn’t come alone. By some great chance, Swein had himself been visiting Ribe, eager to take stock before the summer trading began. As a mark of his understanding with Leofwine, he’d come in secrecy and with only a few men.
Leaping from the ship, Leofwine met the man as he slid from his horse. He was grinning a little with the absurdity of the situation.
“Leofwine, I never thought I’d see you step foot on Danish land.”
“Nor I Lord Swein,” Leofwine commented lightly. There was no point in being accusatory to the man. He might well have given Thorkell his leave to attack England, but he hadn't convinced the horde of people to accompany Thorkell and raid quite so aggressively.
A hastily constructed tent appeared, and Swein invited Leofwine inside as a fire was lit, and Leofwine felt warmth for the first time in two days.
“Come, sit Leofwine. We will drink and discuss your predicament as though we were in one of my great halls, and it were not passing strange to meet you in secret.”
“My thanks, Lord Swein for agreeing to meet me.”
“Ah, come, forget the Lord. I'm Swein and you Leofwine, and this, this is Horic and his son, a brute of a man, and a real miss from my standing army, but I can’t have all the best men under my command. Now, tell me of Thorkell and his successes in England.” He was intrigued, leaning forward on his campstool and Leofwine wondered just how much he knew.
“Have you not been in contact with Thorkell?”
“No, I last heard from a ship that returned to my waters early last summer. It carried the wounded from a battle in Thetford; I think they said.”
“Then there is much you don’t know. Thorkell, he is a mighty warrior.”
Swein laughed with glee at that understated assessment of his finest commander,
“He is and a good foster-father to my son Cnut. You may remember him?”
“Yes I do Swein, and for some time he was a hostage at the king’s court, and I got to know him a little better, but that was two years ago now. I’m sure you knew of that.”
“I did yes, Thorkell was unhappy but Cnut insisted, as I understand it.”
“Yes, that’s what he told us as well.”
“He’s honourable and inquisitive in equal measure. I fear it’s my fault, for after meeting with you I said I’d very much like to meet the king and see how his court functioned.”
“Then you’ve had your wish. I’m sure Cnut learnt much in his time with the king.”
“Ah,” Swein said, dismissing that part of their conversation with a wave of his hand, “You didn’t come here to tell me of Cnut. Tell me what you need me to know.”
With a pause for breath and a drink of warmed mead, Leofwine began,
“Thorkell is a great warrior, but he is running rampant upon the English king’s land. Initially, a truce was agreed, but the king refused to pay the geld of £30000. And then, and we’re not sure of all the details, Thorkell left his winter quarters and began attacking the lands of our combined ancestors, the lands of the Five Boroughs.”
Swein’s face creased with puzzlement then,
“Why would he do so? We’ve always said that we’d not attack our people. It creates bad feeling.”
“We believe, and it pains me to say it, that there may have been treachery from one of the king’s Ealdormen, we fear that coin or some favour passed from one of our own to Thorkell, and that is why the lands of the settlers were attacked.”
Swein looked unhappy at the news,
“I know I don’t orchestra his every move, but still, this unsettles me. Is this all you came to say to me?”
“No, sadly not. Since that time, Thorkell and his allies have split their forces. They raid far and wide, and, and I wish I didn’t have to share this with you, my people are unable to stop Thorkell. He sends no word of his demands, and before the winter, he fired another of our thriving markets, far into the lands of the Mercian ealdorman, and I fear that England will be unable to endure another summer of constant attacks.”
Swein’s eyes shone with the images of success that Thorkell was enjoying, but he also looked a little haunted.
“He's a great warrior and men flock to him
.”
“They do, that’s for sure. Prepared to fight for any tuft of grass or sliver of silver, and England can’t take the beating.”
“What would you have me do? As I say, I’m not responsible for his actions.”
“I appreciate that Swein. I had hopes that you could recall your warriors who fight for him and perhaps, send word that he might negotiate with the English king. If we were able to offer him a geld again, it would stop much suffering.”
Swein listened with interest, as did one of the men behind him, who Swein hastily introduced.
“This is my eldest son, Harald. He has hopes to the kingdom when I’m dead. He’s a real warrior, but alas, no friend of Thorkell.”
Harald was almost identical to his father, even down to his eye colour and hair. Leofwine stood offered him an arm clasp of friendship, and with only slightly raised eyebrows, he accepted. The strength in his arm surprised Leofwine.
“You should recall him, father,” Harald said without preamble. “You don’t want him to become richer than you. The English king was a fool not to give him the geld of £30000 but, if he offers more now, he’ll have far more treasure than you.”
Swein laughed away his son’s fears, but Leofwine could see that this father and son spoke straight to each other and that indeed, Swein may feel the first stirrings of jealousy for the other man’s success.
“You make a good argument Harald, but I must remember that you and Thorkell don’t think much of each other. He is, after all, your half-brother’s foster-father.”
“Ah, father, Thorkell is arrogant and not possessed by Odin, although he says as much to all who’ll listen. He should be a Christian father, as we all are. Recall him or he’ll come for your throne next.”
A little shocked, Swein turned to glare at his son, and Horic laughed a little forcefully.
“Cubs are always keen to tell us what to do, aren’t they, my Lord Swein?”