The Earl of Mercia

by M J Porter

  “It’d be a waste not to use it, but not here, not at sea. You’d want to know that if you fell, pray you don’t, that the sword lived on. The monks and priests haven’t kept it safe for over twenty years, a closely guarded secret, so that you can lose it to the murky depths of the ocean.”

  “Good point,” Leofric grunted. He was itching to try the weapon, to test its balance and see if he could fight with it, but equally he wanted an excuse to just wear it in a ceremonial setting, to see how bloody Earl Godwine reacted to his possession of such a fine weapon.

  Olaf’s family would have paid handsomely to have something so intricate designed and made.

  “I wonder if it has a maker’s mark?” Leofric mused and Orkning indicated that he wanted to examine the weapon.

  Leofric passed it to his closest friend and confidant and watched him examine it from every possible angle. He ran his finger over some of the decoration, and peered intently into the swirling oily mess of the blade, but ultimately shook his head.

  “There’s nothing to show who made it. They might have hidden their name under the hilt but I wouldn’t recommend removing it. It’s almost as though the metal was cast directly onto the blade, and then worked from there. It seems more the work of a god than a mere mortal. It’s a stunning piece of craftsmanship. I can’t deny even I want it.”

  Leofric laughed good-naturedly at the rueful tone in Orkning’s voice. He was his father’s true son and he loved war almost as much as he did women. The beginning of Cnut’s reign and the almost end of any war-craft in England had briefly made Orkning consider travelling back to his homeland, only, his family were in England, and Leofric held his oath. Leofric thought he would have released him from the oath but was pleased that he’d not been forced to think too deeply about the possibility of losing Orkning. He needed him, just as his father had once needed Wulfstan to stand at his side.

  No man could be the adjudicator of his own thoughts. Every leader, from king to bishop to sheriff, needed someone they trusted to tell them when they were acting contrary to the essence of their beliefs, no matter how tantalizingly easy it might be to take such a course of action.

  “I’ll have it looked at when we return home, for now I think I should keep it hidden in plain sight. Warn the men that they shouldn’t use it, but neither should they draw attention to it.”

  Orkning nodded to show he agreed with the decision and began to make his way down the line of men sitting on their war chests, their weapons on their laps, busy readying themselves for whatever might happen once they made landfall in Denmark.

  Leofric watched him bend and speak to the men, laughing at some, criticizing others and offering support to others. He was easy with the shipmen, but then more than half of them shared his north blood and that had always meant he was accepted more easily. He instinctively understood his fellow shipmen in a way that Leofric sometimes felt as though he failed to do.

  It was the same with the king. Leofric had been convinced that upon his father’s death, Cnut would have immediately moved to offer him his father’s title of earl. That he hadn’t, and that he now tried to use it as some sort of bargaining counter for his good behavior, for risking his life for the king, angered him. His father had been made an ealdorman so that he could speak with the authority of the king, by failing to give Leofric the same standing, Cnut had played a dangerous game with him, one that could have gone very badly, if events hadn’t already been set in play that stopped him from accomplishing anything.

  He sometimes wondered what it was the Cnut failed to find in him, that he did within Earl Godwine, Earl Hakon and the other Norsemen. Was it his very Englishness? Or was it just that Cnut, now free from Earl Leofwine’s influence, wasn’t keen to find himself once more constrained by his father’s more demure attitude, his ability to reason, the very abilities he’d tried so hard to install in all of his sons?

  Or was it just simply that Leofric reminded Cnut too much of one of the only mistakes he’d ever made, when he’d had Northman executed for no good reason.

  He only wished he got on well enough with the king to ask the question, but he didn’t and he knew he wouldn’t any time soon. Even having his sister as one of the queen’s most trusted women hadn’t eased the transition. Neither did he imagine the current developments with Olaf Haraldsson would further his ambitions either.

  It wasn’t even that he thought he deserved the title, it was more that his father had expected it to be given him, and even now, Leofric knew that his father would be disappointed and every day that he failed to be recognised as an earl in his own right, Earl Godwine was growing his influence, infiltrating every element of Cnut’s kingship, and that wasn’t good for Cnut either.

  He was not quite Eadric, in fact far from it, but neither was he the ally that Cnut seemed to think he was. Earl Godwine had his own ambitions and they didn’t necessarily correlate with the king’s own for all that he pretended to be just as Danish and his king and his king seemed to appreciate his efforts.

  He sighed with frustration, standing up and walking from one end of his ship to the other. The ship, his father’s from the voyage to Shetland and Orkney, had been variously repaired and replaced throughout it’s long life, and yet it manifested in Leofric’s mind as the same ship his father had let him sail within as a child, a smirk of enjoyment on his face for the initial wave of seasickness that had swept through Leofric, and emptied his stomach contents of at least a week’s worth of food over the high sides.

  His father had laughed, Wulfstan had laughed and Horic had clapped him firmly on the back and told him of his own first voyage, and how he’d been sick for a full month. His father and Wulfstan had been amazed to hear the Northman speak so, and the three of them had often joked about it.

  He wished that at least one of the men from his childhood still lived so that he could grill them on his future, but even Oscetel was gone from him, while he still lived, his mind wondered and frequently he spoke as though he still lived thirty years ago. Leofric was saddened by the warrior’s decline, but his wife cared for him, as did every member of the household and war-band; none finding humor in his forgetfulness and keen to help him in anyway they could, not that he couldn’t be relied on to offer good advice. He could, but it was often weeks or months after the question had been asked.

  To either side of his ship, he could see the other four ships of his small fleet. They all flew their sails as the ships leapt through the white topped sea, its depths seeming to be inviting on such a day, for all that every splash of water was cold and unpleasant. Leofric shivered once more. He felt as though this moment would impact his life for a long time to come, and yet he’d been compromised. He’d been left with no choice but to leave Olaf Haraldsson, far behind and race to find his king or at least his king’s fleet.

  He wished Snorri had provided him with more details of Olaf’s eventual intent, but really, knowing that he planned to travel overland to liaise with his ships was as much detail as he’d managed to ascertain. Perhaps the Danish jarls would know what it meant. They were, after all, natives of the coastlines that twisted and turned, some leading inland, others leading nowhere, they should have some idea of where Anund Jakob and Olaf Haraldsson would meet and try and attack Cnut.

  Or so he hoped.

  Chapter 6

  AD1026 near Denmark

  His ships arrived near Ribe as the sun crested the horizon. He’d slept well, lulled by the waves and the speed of the ship, careering through the night sky with little more than a lantern on the front of the ship’s figurehead to prevent them running aground on exposed rocks. Not that he’d overly worried. The ship’s captain and Orkning, not to mention many of the men, knew the area well, some even joking that they could have navigated it in the dark and blind-folded both.

  Leofric had enjoyed the men’s laughter, their joy in being at sea, at the prospect of a coming battle. He almost wished he could feel the same but he feared the battle. Olaf and Anund Jakob were deter
mined to prevent Cnut from having any more success and he was convinced that they would try absolutely anything to bring about Cnut’s humiliation or death, whichever came first. Yet he had only his own gut feeling on the matter to offer his king, nothing concrete at all. He already knew the king wouldn’t listen to his warnings.

  He’d visited Ribe before, but before he had the opportunity to bring his ships close to land, a ship shot out of the harbor and raced toward them. He recognised the brightly-coloured sail immediately and realized that he had no more time to prepare his answer for his king, for Cnut was coming to seek him out.

  Still, Leofric took the time he had to admire Cnut’s vessel. It was one of the longest he’d ever seen, well over eighty meters in length, crowned with a magnificent figure head of a dragon, the emblem of the Wessex royal line, but with runic inscriptions all over the sails, to mark his Danish roots as well, Leofric could well imagine the fear it would instill in men who were Cnut’s enemies.

  Leofric called for his own sail to be taken down and as his men scrambled to bring the massive one piece sail to the deck of the ship, he watched for Cnut in his own ship, expecting to see him but also getting a start of surprise when he did see Cnut commanding the men to row toward him when the sail failed to fill with wind quite as quickly as he might have liked.

  Cnut’s appearance never failed to remind Leofric that he was a Danish king, a conquering king as well. He dressed in a more martial manner than Æthelred had ever adopted, both of his arms adorned with rich silver armbands, earned from the hands of his stepfather and father both, his ring-givers and the only men to have ever commanded him. His hair was worn long, his moustache long and flowing, while his wind-blown cloak revealed that he wore his weapons belt complete. Yet in that moment all he could think about was his new sword. He hoped Cnut didn’t see it. Not here and not now. He wouldn’t be asked to gift it to him, but it might allow Cnut to question where his loyalties truly lay after his meeting with Olaf Haraldsson. There was no one who could confirm that it was truly Olaf Tryggvason’s sword that he’d been gifted with and Cnut could easily assume it was a bribery.

  “Sheriff Leofric,” Cnut shouted as soon as they were within shouting distance and Leofric returned the greeting to his king, not failing to note that he called him sheriff not earl, and then waited for the two ships to pull up side by side. It seemed that the king had already decided that his diplomacy had failed in Trondheim.

  “I spied your ship from the harbor. I take it your quick return means you’ve been unable to convince Olaf to stand down.” Cnut spoke lightly as his eyes skimmed the ship, looking for any sign of injury amongst the men that might mean battle had already been joined. There was no censorship in his voice for Leofric’s failure to secure a peace but all the same, it hovered between them, unspoken but not hidden.

  “I found Olaf Haraldsson at Trondheim without any ships, and he seemed keen to listen to my words, even taking me to the church founded by my father’s priest, only during the night a priest I’d met in the church, crept on board and told me the ships had already left and that Olaf and Anund Jakob are to rendezvous near Skåne. The priest said that Olaf meant to delay me and ensure you weren’t aware of their intentions. I can imagine that they plan on attacking you before you can attack them.”

  Cnut’s face clouded at the brief summation of Leofric’s ineffectual visit with Olaf but he took the news remarkably well, all things considered.

  “Did the priest know where they were to meet?”

  “No, only that Olaf was to travel overland. All the ships and their supplies were long gone.”

  “So they mean to draw me into a battle in a place of their choosing,” Cnut hazarded. His quick eyes were thoughtful as he stood within his ship, the two craft just about managing to stay apart through the endeavors of the oarsmen on the opposite side of the crafts. Leofric could see that Cnut must have been busy loading his ship for his expedition to the east. Barrels of water and food were wedged into every spare place, and amongst them, there were war chests filled with weapons and armor both.

  “I’m sorry I failed you,” Leofric stuttered into the silence. Before Cnut he suddenly saw that he should have acted differently, found out more information from the priest, perhaps sent men to follow Olaf and see where he was headed. Perhaps he should have gone to Oslo, seen what Cnut’s old allies had heard about Olaf’s intentions.

  “No, you did the right thing. I need to be wary of Olaf and Anund Jakob. They hate me as much as I hate them. It’ll be better for us all when they’re dead and gone to Valhalla or Hell, wherever they think they should go.”

  Cnut was rubbing his beard as he spoke, and Leofric assumed he was thinking of what his orders would now be for his sheriff. He almost didn’t want to know.

  In front of them both, Leofric could see that Ribe was a hive of activity and that a further ten or fifteen ships were preparing to leave, their sides weighed down with men and food both, while others on land swarmed over the remaining ships, ensuring they were prepared for their sea voyage. Leofric wondered where they were heading and what orders Cnut had already given.

  It seemed that Cnut was as keen to seek out his enemy, as they were to hunt him down.

  “I’m taking my ships around the top of Denmark, trying to discover any information I can on Olaf’s intentions, before meeting Earl Ulfr in Hedeby or at least I was going to. Instead, I’ll send word to Earl Ulfr in Hedeby that he needs to head straight for Skåne. I think it best to hunt for the two kings there. I’ll travel on as I intended, ensure they don’t mean to trap us and that you’ve not been lied to. How much do you trust this priest?” Cnut thought to ask and Leofric resented being asked to justify his actions, but did so all the say.

  “Implicitly, the man was full of praise for my father and for Olaf Tryggvason both. He says that Olaf Haraldsson pretends to his Christianity and would have taken your treasure and used it to finance the war against yourself.”

  Cnut seemed to accept the news without further questions.

  “Take your ships home, with the two treasure ships, but the other two ships should remain with me, dock at Ribe and take on new supplies. Their captains will come to me for orders. I want you to go back to England, seek out my wife and Earl Godwine, tell them what you know and ask for as many more ships as possible to be outfitted and returned to me. In fact tell Earl Godwine I wish him to join me. The queen will be expecting the command, I informed her of my intentions before I left England.”

  Leofric didn’t know whether to feel reassured or dismayed by his dismissal. Why would the king want Earl Godwine and not him? He had just as much, well nearly just as much, experience of fighting the Northmen as Godwine.

  “You have my thanks for risking a meeting with Olaf Haraldsson. I know it was a leap of faith on your part. I hope now you realize just how respected your father was, and the power of your family name. Go back to England. Govern her well. I’ll return once Anund Jakob and Olaf Haraldsson are dead or fled, but preferably dead.”

  “My lord,” he offered his obedience with a faint bob of his head and Cnut chuckled darkly.

  “Tell me, did the priest say he was happy for me to rule in Norway? I want to know if the people desire me as much as I want Norway back.”

  “He was keen, yes. He spoke of your father’s rule there, and of Earl Erik’s brother and his son.”

  “That’s excellent news. I’d hopes they’d resent Olaf’s heavy handedness. The people? They seem happy with him as a king?”

  “Only the ones I saw, and to be frank, they were all crammed inside his hall in Trondheim. I didn’t see anyone, other than the priest, who could speak out against Olaf.”

  “He rules through fear then. I wish I’d managed to reassert my claim sooner, but England has been a contrary beast. Now I have the time to think about Norway and Skåne, take back my father’s kingdom. My thanks again Leofric. Head for home, see the queen, send her my best wishes and tell her exactly what you told me, and precisel
y what I told you. I’ll see you soon.”

  Leofric thought the king would leave then, but he didn’t, turning back, a thoughtful look on his face.

  “I have another favor to ask of you,” he said slowly, as though this decision weighed heavily on him.

  “My king?” Leofric began, fearing to know what else he’d be asked to risk, but Cnut gave him a tight smile.

  “Take my son back to England for me, Harthacnut. Denmark isn’t as peaceful as England, or as removed from the threat of this war as I’d like it to be. Take him to his mother, let him have some time with her, before he has to come back and rule Denmark for me, while I tackle Norway and Skåne.”

  “Of course, my lord, I’d be honored,” and Leofric found he meant it, no matter the king’s initial hesitation.

  “Watch him well for me. He’s a precocious child, very much aware that he’s the son of a king and a queen both,” there was a caution in those words and Leofric nodded to show he understood. There had been reports that Harthacnut wasn’t an easy child. It seemed that Leofric was about to get first hand experience of how his king’s heir was growing and developing.

  And with no further words, Cnut was gone; instructing his ship to sail back toward Ribe, still under the power of the oars, for the wind was strong and might blow the ship past the harbor.

  The shipmen within his craft had listened to all of Cnut’s words and some grumbled while others seemed relieved that they were to head for home. Leofric was still in two minds. He signaled for the other ships to sail in close to him and gave his instructions and also allowed the men in the two ships that Cnut had commanded follow him the opportunity to swop with their counterparts on the three ships heading home to England. It was better to only allow men who wanted to fight to follow their king.

  In the meantime, Leofric watched the king’s son being escorted to his ship, and made a space for him to call his own. Leofric had known the lad well when he was small but he’d been in Denmark for the last three years and had forgotten all about Sheriff Leofric. Leofric reintroduced himself, offered him some stories of his early childhood in an effort to remind him that they did known each other, and then allowed him to mingle with his men as they ordered the ships for their respective journeys.