Northman Part 1

by M J Porter

  And all Thorkell’s men could concern themselves with was finding any goods of value. They rifled the dead men’s clothes, taking armbands where they found them, and golden trinkets and any weapons that they fancied.

  It was almost over before it had begun and the houses were fired, and the twenty or so women lead onto Thorkell’s ship. He’d clearly claimed them for himself. Eadric didn’t step foot on shore, not once, leaving the work to Thorkell and his own men.

  Northman watched him angrily, his mouth twitching as he fought his resolve to just tell him what he thought of him, once and for all. Annoyed, he stomped onto his own ship, his sleeves stained with the blood of a man who’d put up absolutely no resistance when his life had been taken. Northman decided he wouldn’t be that passive again. Never.

  Chapter 36

  AD1012 – Leofwine – Deerhurst

  His anger was palpable, vibrating in the air around him and sending all that knew him scurrying from his rage. Well all apart from Æthelflæd. She stayed in the room, a faint smile on her face as she watched him. He knew exactly what she was thinking, and it exasperated him to know how well she knew him.

  He let her have her way. Eventually, he’d calm down, and she’d chide him, and he’d feel a fool but for now, his anger was a burning brand lacing his back.

  How dare he? How dare his good for nothing oldest son come within spitting distance of home and not call upon his mother, who he’d not seen now for years, not just a few seasons.

  In his heart, he knew it wasn’t his son’s fault that he’d not come, but he needed to vent, and it was easier to direct it at his missing son than at any other.

  He’d more than half hoped when he’d given Olaf his cryptic message about it being Northman’s choice whether he returned home or stayed, that Northman would finally lay aside the mantle of responsibility he’d assumed and come home to his family. He missed him, and he wanted to spend time with him before he married and left the family home with more permanence than a foster arrangement.

  He should have known better, and he blamed bloody Wulfstan for it all. If he’d not instilled such honour within the boy, he’d have come home years ago.

  Ah, whom was he trying to fool? He knew it was his honour that the lad had inherited. And he was aware that it had done him little good, and was doing Northman even less. He needed to be away from the poisonous atmosphere that Eadric had created and colluded with the king upon. He needed to be home with his family, in disgrace, but together, so who cared what the king was about.

  And to come so close to home, without so much a hello or goodbye, without making the effort to push Eadric towards his home was a sign of how great that honour ran. Eadric and his mother loathed each other, and Wulfstan had never had a good word to say about Eadric. That coupled with the knowledge that he’d gone to fight on behalf of Eadric and the turncoat Thorkell, riled all the more.

  “You know you’re only angry at yourself,” his wife said testily after he’d nearly worn a hole in the floor. Initially, his ageing dog had kept pace with him, but the beast now slept beside Æthelflæd, warming her feet with his exposed belly. Leofwine envied the dog.

  “That doesn’t make it any better,” he snapped at her, and her eyes flashed briefly with anger. And now he was thinking the same about her that she was about him. She was beautiful when she was angry, her cheeks flushing and her mouth set in an angry line.

  Against all the odds, she smiled at him then.

  “Come Leofwine, take your ease beside me, and if I can, I’ll let you forget your troubles for a few moments.” Her eyebrows were raised suggestively at him, and he’d have liked nothing better to do than to bury his problems within her. But, and he knew for a fact he’d done it, he’d shouted at everyone within his household, and he needed to make amends to both Wulfstan and his son, Leofric, who’d brought the news to him in the first place. It was neither of theirs fault that Northman had been so tantalisingly close and yet so far away at the same time.

  “He better come home in one piece,” he eventually relented, trying to avoid the gentle tug on her lips from her suppressed smile, “or I’ll kill Eadric once and for all.”

  “Come on you know you don’t mean that,” she said, surprised by his continuing vehemence.

  “You just watch if you don’t think I do,” he countered, pleased he’d shocked her.

  “Northman will be well. Not because he’s with Eadric but because he is, as you have told me, an excellent warrior and he has the most successful Viking leader with him that this land has ever known, Thorkell. The man knows tactics and how to win. He’ll not let Eadric sway him. He won’t harm his men. He’s not a reckless man. Everything he’s done in the last three years shows he’s devious and quick-witted.”

  Leofwine stopped mid-step then. He’d truly not considered that. His son had been gone for too long. He still visualised the slight youth who’d left four years before, forgetting that in the intervening years he’d faced death and battle and become a man.

  Smiling he turned to Æthelflæd,

  “You’re right. Thank you. I sometimes forget that he’s a man grown and no longer a boy.”

  “You forget that you’re getting old and fussy like an old woman,” she countered, enjoying the outrage on his face. “Now, go and apologise to your son and your old friend. I don’t want to see you in here until you’ve performed your duties.”

  A little sulkily still, for all that she’d been right to confront him, he marched through their wooden doorway and strode into the hall. It fell strangely quiet as he did so, and realising how his rage had affected everyone, he stood for a moment, until the eyes of all were upon him.

  “My apologies for my wrath,” he said loudly so that all could hear. “It was none of your faults, and I acted irrationally. I hope you’ll accept my apology.”

  Hooded eyes glanced at him, from his youngest son to his oldest friend, but then Wulfstan called out,

  “You always were a petulant boy,” and a whisper of laughter ran through the room, that intensified when they saw Leofwine’s smirk for Wulfstan. He was forgiven in a heartbeat, and he walked towards Wulfstan and Leofric. Clearly, the older man had been consoling, the younger lad.

  “Leofric, I was wrong to berate you for something you couldn’t stop, and Wulfstan, I was wrong to attack you for backing the boy up. Will you both forgive me?”

  Wulfstan smiled widely at the apology, but Leofric still looked haughty with annoyance. Wulfstan slapped the unresponsive boy on the arm, and Leofric looked at him a little angrily, before softening his face.

  “Alright, I forgive you, but Father, you need to hold your tongue far better. The things you said were truly shocking, and I’m sure word will get back to the king. There were traders and farmers aplenty within the hall when you lashed out at him.”

  Leofwine grimaced a little, but then smiled,

  “He’ll only have himself to blame if he has something reported back to him that he doesn’t like. He should learn to bloody well trust me, especially after all these years.”

  Shrugging Leofric turned back to the game of boards he and Wulfstan had been playing but not before Leofwine heard him whisper,

  “And you better remember that when he punishes you further.”

  Leofwine ignored the comment. He’d just about had enough of the king and hadn’t forgiven him for his behaviour last year, or for his purposeful exclusion of him at the meeting in London with Thorkell. The news of the archbishop of Canterbury’s death had shocked Leofwine, coming as it did at the hands of the Raiders after the geld had been paid. To know that the king had now made terms with Thorkell chaffed even more. Could the king not work out for himself who to trust and who to disregard? Clearly not.

  Chapter 37

  AD1012 – Northman – Shropshire

  The colony of Raiders near St David’s successfully annihilated, they were not long in returning to Gloucester, and from there to Eadric’s home. Each jangle of the horse’s tack frayed N
orthman’s nerves. He wanted to get home to see Mildryth, assure himself that she was well, but on the other hand, Eadric would immediately suspect and guess and then he’d make Northman’s life untenable.

  He’d spent his few nights away from home berating himself for his inability to stay away from the girl, but he knew that he’d fall willingly into her arms when he returned. He wanted to feel her hot breath on his cheek as they joined, and hear her small gasps of pleasure from his touch. And now that she suspected she carried their child, he felt even more protective of her. He must devise a way to marry her and get her away from Eadric. And it needed to be soon.

  The early summer was well on its way when they pulled their horses to a stop outside the hall. Boys and slaves ran to take the animals away from those Eadric had allowed within his courtyard, the majority of the men he’d instructed to erect camps away from his home. Thorkell, he’d left at Gloucester. The raider had promised to return to Sandwich with his half of the fleet and Northman had watched him leave with some regret. No matter the damage done to England at his hands, he was a competent commander, open and honest with his men and respected all the more for that.

  At the doorway, he caught a fleeting glimpse of Mildryth’s flushed and excited face, but she must have disappeared by the time he strode into the hall, Eadric already yelling commands and demands to his wife and servants.

  His oldest son, a sturdy lad of three, toddled to his father and Eadric lifted him high in the air with a wide grin, but the little boy only burst into tears unsure who the stranger was. Annoyed, Eadric dropped him to the ground, and he ran towards Mildryth his hands outstretched towards her.

  She clasped him to her chest, and as she did so, Eadric’s eyes narrowed, and a smirk of pleasure lit his face.

  “I see you had her boy, and now you will take her as your wife. I’ll inform your father at once.”

  Instantly alarmed, Northman wondered how he should proceed for the best.

  “I have every intention of making her my wife, my Lord, and with your consent, and I’ll happily contact my family about it. I’ll not stint her at all.”

  “I know you’ll not boy,” Eadric spoke quietly and with deadly seriousness, “but boy, you can only have her if … certain conditions are met.”

  Northman’s heart sank, and he turned to look at Mildryth’s suddenly white face.

  “You need not concern yourself with the details. I’ll send a messenger to your father immediately. You’ve taken advantage of my family’s hospitality towards you, and you’ve bedded my niece. I’ll have to seek reparation for your soiling of her, and the fact that I’ll have to take you as my nephew by

  iage. Your father will understand that my demands are reasonable. Now Mildryth,” and he turned to her then, “get out of my sight and don’t let me see you again unless it is to say goodbye to me when you leave for your new home.” His tone was icy cold, and pity for Mildryth almost forced Northman to speak in her defence. But he knew better. Instead, when Eadric turned away he mouthed a sorry to her, and she replied by shrugging and mouthing that she loved him. And really, that was all that mattered.

  Chapter 38

  Summer AD1012 – Leofwine

  Once more rage engulfed him. Of all the stupid things to do, he couldn’t quite believe that his honourable and staid older son had managed to get himself involved with his enemy’s niece. It was beyond comprehension, and he was not so much a fool as to deny it, entirely in keeping with Eadric’s scheming ways. He could only be grateful that it hadn’t happened sooner, but still, as before when he’d not visited his family, his anger was a physical force.

  Eadric had sent his messenger to Leofwine, a haughty faced individual with acquisitive eyes, and a pinched face. Leofwine had hated him on sight, a rarity for him, and had hated even more the demands he’d made.

  In exchange for his niece, Eadric demanded land that he’d long coveted but which had long been a part of the inheritance of Leofwine’s family. No amount of cajoling or pouting before the king had allowed him to claim the land, but now he did, and more besides. He wanted the land near his home in Shropshire, and he also wanted an obscene amount of coinage as well, not to mention an assurance that from henceforth, Leofwine would stop using the term Ealdorman of Mercia. That riled because Leofwine never used the word about himself, and it wasn't his fault if others still regarded him as their Lord. Eadric should have worked harder to ensure their loyalty.

  He also wanted a public apology from the boy, before the king, and an assurance that his niece would be handsomely provided with another plot of land, near to the one he wanted, and which would remain hers no matter what. Leofwine was candescent with rage, Æthelflæd at his side white with the shock and knowledge that she’d soon be a grandmother.

  A grandmother. That thought chilled him. Æthelflæd was little aged in their long years together, and he thought it outrageous that his son should have prematurely aged her by being reckless with his wants and needs.

  He turned to tell her as such, but she was sat with a faint smile on her face, and he wondered if perhaps, just perhaps she was pleased with the news.

  “It’ll be a blessing for this house, no matter that Eadric is involved. Give him what he wants, make him believe he’s won, but let the boy come home and bring his wife with him.”

  Leofwine felt his jaw drop open in shock as she spoke, and he tried to reorder his thoughts. Could he do that? Could he just let Eadric get away with the manipulation of his son? With the possible ruin of his future happiness?

  Old, frail Wulfstan looked across the hall at him, shaking his head softly from side to side in an apparent 'no' gesture, and Leofwine realised he’d be alone in this. None of the others would want to make so much of it as if the imminent birth of a child made it allowable to forget all past indiscretions. Leofwine wasn’t at all convinced but realised that once more he’d have to try and take the upper hand, work this to his advantage in the long term.

  Shaking his head, he curled himself back into his seat, signalling to the messenger that he agreed to the demands and bidding him be on his way as soon as he’d eaten and drunk. He’d take back little gossip with him. Leofwine glowered into the fire.

  Men and boys.

  Women and girls.

  Babies and grandparents.

  None of it thrilled him, but it was life, and he’d accept it.

  Chapter 39

  Late AD1012 – Northman – Deerhurst

  Finally, and only after more haggling than was necessary, Eadric had consented to the wedding and he and Mildryth had been married only the day before in his father’s local church, the abbot pleased to act for his lord, although Leofwine was ill-humoured about it all. To those who didn’t know him well, they’d have thought him overjoyed, but Northman knew his father and knew that internally he was seething.

  Northman felt anger, hurt and grief overwhelm him. He’d wanted his father to be happy for him, but he feared he was too angry with his son and Eadric’s demands to make the best of the situation.

  The marriage had been performed not a day too soon for in the night, Mildryth had woken, in pain. The child was keen to make its presence felt.

  Pleased that they were staying with his parents, regardless of his father’s rancour, Northman had felt confident in alerting his mother to his wife’s need, and the house had burst into activity on the chilly Winter day. Fires burned and water boiled, and Mildryth cried in pain and grunted in agony and Northman didn’t know what to do with himself.

  He was terrified of this new responsibility about to be presented to him, and he was worried for his wife. She’d reassured him that she would birth the babe well, but doubt clouded his judgement and he moodily pondered the fire.

  Wulfstan joined him, his movements were slow and ponderous, his eyes a little cloudy and his hands shaky.

  “It'll go well lad, don’t worry.”

  Northman offered a genuine smile of thanks for his assurance.

  “So everyone t
ells me.”

  “Well if everyone tells you then it must be the truth,” Wulfstan coughed a little wetly.

  “Are you ill Wulfstan?” Northman asked, concern making him dance a little around Wulfstan as he made himself comfortable in a beautiful wood chair.

  “Yes, ill and old and buggered,” Wulfstan coughed again. “But I don’t fear death so don’t fear it for me. I’ve lived well past any use I could offer your father.”

  Northman swallowed his grief, his throat aching with tears he couldn’t shed.

  “But I’ll miss you,” he offered sadly, and Wulfstan reached for his hand and held it within his bone dry one.

  “And I’ll miss you too. You’ve been like a grandson to me, and I’m proud of all you’ve done, and your father will be one day as well.”

  “I hope so,” Northman sighed. “I didn’t mean to disappoint him.”

  “It’s not you who’s disappointed him. It’s the king and Eadric, but worse than that, he’s disappointed himself. So busy trying to play politics with the king, he’s missed you growing into the man you are, and sadly, there’s nothing that can bring back those lost years.”

  “But he allowed me to go to Eadric.”

  “He consented, it’s not the same thing. He didn’t want to, and your absence has caused him distress.”

  “And I’ve missed him too,” Northman said, glancing at the door behind which his father still slept. He’d have quite liked him to wait with him.

  “Promise me you’ll reconcile with him,” Wulfstan suddenly said meaningfully, “sometimes the son must act more the adult than the father, and this is one of those rare occasions.”

  “You mean I should attempt to win his forgiveness?” Northman queried, feeling his rage mount.

  “Yes, for father’s can lack vision where their enemies are concerned.”