The Earl of Mercia

by M J Porter

  He didn’t have that sort of relationship with either Ælfgifu or Emma, although, obviously he did with his own wife.

  “Bloody women and bloody Vikings,” Leofric chuckled, determined to banish his worries for now, and enjoy his journey to Winchester.

  Olaf laughed at the words and then his face turned more serious.

  “Just remember, it’s you who has to be swayed, and if Emma and Ælfgifu are to be the battlefield you have to fight on, you shouldn’t think yourself powerless against them just because they use their words instead of their swords. You can barter. You’re a powerful asset for either of them to hold against the other.

  “But what is it that Cnut wants me to do? Why did he have Ælfgifu come to me?”

  “You only have her word that he did. Also, he’s a quick thinking man, and he might mean for one thing to happen, and when it doesn’t, react against it, and in doing so upset his carefully laid plans.”

  “So all this could be pure happenstance?” Leofric asked hopefully, but although Olaf barked a laugh he shook his head.

  “Nothing Cnut does is ever by pure chance. Whatever he plans for his empire, it’s obvious he means it to be shared by his sons, no matter what Emma or Ælfgifu might think. He has sons and he’s going to use them to further his ambitions, and like his father before him, he’ll want to know that when he dies, he leaves all three of the boys a kingdom to rule, as is their right, and as the power of the House of Gorm should.”

  It wasn’t a comforting thought, but Leofric also understood that it was true.

  Cnut, just like Ælfgifu, had his eye on the future and what he would accomplish, not necessarily what he had already achieved.

  It seemed that when he arrived in Winchester, Emma would be struggling with a similar problem, her focus on her son and what her husband was trying to secure for his future and that it was Earl Godwine who was making her position so untenable that she’d sent for Leofric, almost before he’d originally left for home.

  But as commanded, he arrived by stealth, and in the middle of the short summer’s night, hoping that none saw him as he found himself before the second of Cnut’s wives that day. Being brought to her so late at night, he might have expected her to be ready for bed, but she still wore her fine clothes, and seemed wide awake and ready to conduct a full day’s duties. Leofric longed for sleep, again, but knew that it wouldn’t be soon in arriving.

  Instead, he was ushered into her own private day room, surrounded by few but his own sister, who offered him a grimace of welcome and then a grin as well, but that was all the good cheer he heard throughout the night, as Emma regaled him with long stories of woe and her concern about Godwine.

  It was nothing that Leofric hadn’t anticipated. Godwine had made it clear that he didn’t want to carry out his king’s wishes, and he was known for his stubbornness. He didn’t seem to realize that not carrying out his king’s commands was damaging his own reputation.

  “He’s taken it upon himself to draw Harthacnut into his intrigues. He hunts him out when he goes to train with the household troop, flattering him and telling his stories of his father’s childhood that must surely be half a lie, and yet Harthacnut is completely taken in by the man, and has even started asking me to rescind his father’s order commanding him to travel to Denmark.”

  “It’s not easy to disappoint my child when he’s only just been returned to me, and yet Godwine is making me, time and time again. In the last three days alone, he must have asked me at least fifty times to command Godwine to remain in England, and every time I deny his wish, his face becomes more stubborn, more obdurate and when I search for him, I find he’d already spending time with Godwine. The king would be unhappy with the development,” she ended almost plaintively, and Leofric understood her plight.

  Harthacnut had been returned to her, unexpectedly and by stealth, and she was keen to make up for their long separation by granting him his every wish. Godwine was making that impossible, and undermining her in the eyes of her son. It was imperative for the queen that she were able to use what time she had with her son to reinforce his childhood bond with her, if not, he might be returned to Denmark once more, on the whim of his father, and all he’d remember of his mother was that she refused to grant him what he thought was a simple wish; to keep Godwine at his side.

  “Did you bring your son with you as I requested?” she asked, and Leofric nodded.

  “Yes my lady, I did. He sleeps though. It was a long journey for him and it’s the middle of the night.” Emma looked around in surprise then, as if noticing for the first time that the night was almost half gone, and she still hadn’t slept.

  “In the morning, or when he wakes, I’ll bring him to the training ground, but please remember, he’s not as robust as Harthacnut and might not interest him, not at all.”

  Emma glared at his words, but then softened her stance.

  “I understand, and I appreciate your quick response to my summons. We must make Earl Godwine leave for Denmark. I need my time with my son. I worry that he’ll agree to go only if he gets to take Harthacnut with him.”

  It was Leofric’s turn to look surprised and then he thought her words held some merit.

  “The king was adamant that Harthacnut is to stay here until the situation is resolved. I’ll swear it on the saint’s relics if Godwine tries to undermine the king’s authority any further. But now, I’m afraid, I need to rest myself. If I’m to spend tomorrow thwarting Godwine’s wishes, I need to be alert enough to do it.”

  Emma let him go then, a rueful smile on her face, but Leofric knew, she wouldn’t regret her instructions to him. Just as Ælfgifu was doing, she was trying to ensure her future through her son. He only hoped that both women would get what they wanted, as he closed his eyes and sought the oblivion of sleep.

  Chapter 10

  AD1026 Winchester

  Sleep deprived, and aching from too many days in the saddle, Leofric woke his son gently from his sleep and prepared him to meet the king’s other son. He was patient with the lad, not telling him to stay silent about how he’d gained his injury, but rather to not mention the names of those who’d inflicted the bruise and the chip.

  Ælfgar, at only eight, was really too young to be playing at politics, and Leofric resented the necessity but the lad, when he finally woke up, seemed keen to have spend his day with Cnut’s son and so Leofric led him away to where Brothor and the men were busily training in the heat of the day.

  He quickly made out Harthacnut in his training gear, but didn’t find Earl Godwine. His sister and her daughter also joined them, Ealdgyth keen to be reintroduced to her nephew.

  “Ælfgar, this is your aunt, Ealdgyth, I’m sure you remember her,” he offered and for a moment he looked as though he’d forgotten her.

  “She’s married to Olaf,” he further nudged and his son’s face cleared. Just like Horic in his own youth, Olaf and Orkning were the envy of all the small boys in his household and Olaf was often to be found at their home, as he had been when Leofric had returned there only a few days before.

  Ælfgar grinned at her and looked shyly at the girl next to his aunt. The two children had met many times, but perhaps not enough to remember who they were.

  “This is your cousin,” Ealdgyth offered, as the younger Æthelflæd poked her head out from behind her mother’s comforting arm.

  But the two quickly renewed their friendship, and scampered off to play together, leaving Ealdgyth alone with him. He knew it wouldn’t be long before the questions started to flow.

  “The Queen is distressed,” she said as though they’d simply resumed their previous conversation from a few days before.

  “I understand that, but I don’t necessarily think I can do anything about it,” he offered grudgingly. “I’m just a sheriff, I don’t have the title or the support that our father had, and Earl Godwine is only too aware of that. He knows how to direct the flow of patronage his way and away from the queen or I.”

  Eal
dgyth was thoughtful as she watched Harthacnut training, surrounded by men almost twice as large as he was.

  “I wonder if the Queen cares as much for her other sons as she does this one?” she mused, much to Leofric’s surprise. He heard a trace of wistfulness in her voice and wondered why. “The queen has been blessed with four children, and yet she never even speaks of two of them. I wish I could be so lucky.”

  Leofric had often wondered why his niece remained an only child, it seemed he now had his answer.

  “I think the King demanded she give up all ties to them. But I understand that the Duke of Normandy is mindful of their position and treats them well.”

  “Even so, she must miss them. She’s not seen them for nearly ten years. They’ll be men now, not the young boys exiled to Normandy.”

  “Perhaps that’s why she tries so hard with Harthacnut?” he asked but she shook her head in denial and then spoke to deny those words.

  “She loves her son and daughter with Cnut. I think she’d rather forget the other boys, but obviously, she can’t. They’re a reminder of her painful marriage to Æthelred and the years she feels she wasted as his wife.”

  “Really? The Queen speaks so openly of her time with Æthelred and her unhappiness then?”

  Ealdgyth laughed bitterly.

  “Of course she does. Cnut loves to hear of Æthelred’s ineptitude in the bed as well as everywhere else. That he fathered so many children does counter the queen’s lies, but Cnut doesn’t seem to mind.”

  Leofric simply grunted, thinking of Ælfgifu and how the king also seemed to like to lie to his wife. Were either of them honest to the other or was their relationship, which seemed so close to a casual observer, little more than a façade from which they both gained what they wanted? It might account for Cnut’s disregard of Emma’s wishes and of his meeting with Ælfgifu. Did he still wish he were married to the northern woman?

  Before they could say anything else, Ealdgyth’s eyes widened in dismay, and Leofric turned to see Earl Godwine walking toward the men training, his intention clear.

  “He just can’t leave the boy alone,” she muttered angrily.

  “Has he made any plans at all to go to Cnut?”

  “No, nothing. He simply pretends the instruction was never given, and lets his words falls from Harthacnut’s mouth instead of his own.”

  Leofric turned to stare at Godwine, noting how Harthacnut’s face turned to delight when he saw the earl.

  “He fills his head with tales of his father, and Harthacnut, although he must know all the stories anyway, thinks it’s wonderful that one of his father’s closest friend wants to talk to him so much. Godwine praises him and Harthacnut, I dread to think what sort of upbringing he’s having at the hands of Cnut’s sister, laps up the acclaim. I almost think that Cnut’s sister lets him run wild and never praises him.”

  “You don’t approve?” Leofric commented sarcastically but didn’t wait for her angry reply, instead calling Ælfgar to him and setting out to intercept Godwine. Æthelflæd trailed along with Ælfgar and Leofric wondered just when he’d become the carer for so many children.

  “Harthacnut,” he called as soon as he could, secretly pleased when Harthacnut looked even more pleased to see him that he had Godwine. The scowl on Godwine’s face when he heard his voice was instant and surprised. It seemed they’d managed to keep his return a secret after all.

  “Sheriff Leofric,” the boy said, gazing with interest at the lad beside him.

  “Is this your son?” he asked stepping around Godwine in his eagerness to get to Ælfgar.

  “Yes this is Ælfgar. Ælfgar this is Harthacnut, the king’s son.”

  Just as with his cousin, Ælfgar glared for a long moment, deciding what he thought of the king’s third son, and then the three children disappeared to play whatever game they’d chosen. Leofric watched them with a smirk on his face. Godwine had no children of a similar age to Harthacnut, his oldest son a good three years younger than the king’s son and that still made him a dainty child to the robustness of the king’s son. It seemed like a strange way to thwart the earl’s ambitions.

  Ealdgyth, with her duties to her queen’s son and her own daughter, dipped her head to her brother and the earl and made her escape, her eyes keeping a calm eye on the three children. Leofric wished he could follow suit, but Godwine was already opening his mouth to argue with him.

  “A low blow,” he grumbled beneath his breath but it was still loud enough for Leofric to hear. Still he ignored it and shouted a greeting to Brothor. Brothor ambled over, his hair tied tightly back behind his sweaty face and neck.

  “Sheriff Leofric, back so soon? The lad is doing amazingly well. He has his father’s instinctive skill with a sword and a shield.”

  “It would seem wrong if he didn’t,” Leofric joked and the larger man brayed a laugh.

  “I’d not considered it that way, but you’re right. The younger men are already fearful of having to face him in a mock attack.”

  “I wouldn’t tell him that, it might make him brag too much of his skills. Perhaps he’ll need a formidable opponent sooner than expected?”

  “Yes he will, or he’ll get too used to winning and any loss will come as a nasty surprise for him.”

  “Perhaps give him a few more days then, and if possible, could you spend some time with my son. He’s the smaller of the two. He’s a similar age but needs to learn to protect himself.”

  Brothor nodded his agreement.

  “Maybe not quite the same approach that I took with Harthacnut then?”

  “No, not at all. I’m afraid that although my own household warriors surround the boy, they’re loath to upset his mother by bloodying his face. Sadly, his most recent playmates didn’t feel quite the same apprehension.”

  At his side Godwine was silent, and Brothor, as though realizing there might be more than a friendly conversation going on between the two men, quickly distracted himself and wandered off to berate his men about some minor point. Leofric watched him leave thoughtfully. He wished his world were as simple as Brothor’s appeared to be. Commanding men was one thing; sorting through politics was quite another.

  “I’m surprised you’re still at Winchester,” Leofric said, turning to look at Godwine’s face as he spoke. He tried to speak with his father’s authority although he lacked any such position and place in their society. Still Godwine flinched, as though reminded of Earl Leofwine, and had the decency to look embarrassed.

  “My men are readying my ships for me. They’ll send word when it’s done and then I’ll leave. I don’t think the king would approve of me just abandoning the queen when she has so few to give her the advice she needs.”

  “I’m sure the king would be happy for her to rely on Æthelnoth or Ælfric,” he spoke of the archbishops of Canterbury and York, men that Cnut approved of and worked closely with when he produced his law codes and considered where to next build a religious establishment. It was a goad but a gentle one, as Leofric tried to find his feet in the conversation, trying to make it less adversarial and more congenial. He wanted to go home once more, not be caught up in another problem of the king’s own making.

  “The archbishops are men of their God, not men of war.”

  “England faces no war?” Leofric reminded him, but Godwine looked away angrily and then turned to face Leofric, heat streaking in his face.

  “And just what do you think would happen if Cnut died while he was away? There’d be war then and who would rule in his place? Who would stand to take the kingship and ensure that England remained peaceful after all these years of strife endured under bloody Æthelred and his ineffective kingship? Olaf Haraldsson could make a play for power, or even Anund Jakob. There are many men who view Cnut’s accomplishments with jealously and would benefit from his death.”

  Godwine was impassioned as he spoke and yet Leofric felt no anger for the man, only disdain that he’d so blatantly ignore his king’s wishes because he too thought he could
gain from his death, if he died.

  “Earl Godwine, I think you forget yourself,” he said clearly. “The king is very much alive, and has no intention of dying, and even if he did, he has three sons to rule after him and all of them have strong men and women to support them and help them through the first few, difficult years, as they grow to be the image of their father. There’s no need to fear and there’s no need to hang back, waiting for something that probably won’t happen. Do your duty to the king you still have,” Leofric finished, amused by the flash of surprise in Godwine’s eyes as he remembered the king’s two other sons, so rarely spoken about at court, because of the queen’s wishes.

  Godwine still looked ready to argue and Leofric tried one more time to get him to leave England.

  “When the king returns, alive, and more than that, in possession of Norway and Skåne, he’ll be angry with you. You’ll lose all your power, all your possessions, and probably your Danish wife.”

  Leofric didn’t give Godwine the opportunity to argue further, but walked away, meandering his way to where the three children were engaged in playing with some puppies they’d found in the stables, under the watchful eyes of Ealdgyth.

  The pair of them stood in silence, watching the children and enjoying their laugher as they were licked all over by the ungainly bundle of puppies, who were all long legged and with very little coordination. Leofric allowed himself the time to consider Godwine’s words and to feel some pity for Cnut.

  He’d placed a great deal of trust and rewarded Godwine with a royal wife, a great title and the position of premier earl amongst all his Danish earls, and yet Godwine had his eyes only set on the future, when Cnut was dead, and that meant that Cnut was relying on a man who would never serve him with the loyalty he should expect.

  No, Godwine, just as Cnut, Emma and Ælfgifu, had their eyes on the future and not the here and now. Even though Cnut was little older than Leofric he realized that everyone around him was trying to bring the next stage of his rule to fruition; the part where he either lived or died, and where his kingdoms were divided up depending on the merit that he placed in each of his sons.