by M J Porter
It seemed that all anyone ever did was scheme to achieve what they wanted, as though they could never just enjoy the prevailing conditions. It wearied him.
Perhaps he didn’t really wish to be an earl after all.
Chapter 11
AD1026 Winchester
Yet, or so it seemed, Leofric found he was blessed with just the sort of nature needed to be successful as an earl. He was never sure which of his words had roused Earl Godwine to action, but by the next day the earl was long gone from Winchester, and the queen summoned him to thank him for her actions.
Surprisingly, he found her watching her son as he worked with Brothor and the rest of the men, his own son being trained by one of the youngsters who was more of his size, and also, far more gentle, and yet no less effective.
He’d not lied the day before when he’d said that his own men were loath to inflict any pain on his son. He trained with him, as much as he could with an eight year old, but the rest of his men lived in fear of offending his wife. She was a caring woman, but also known for her temper, and because she’d only managed to produce the one son so far, she was very aware of his uniqueness within the household, and his worth. If anything should happen to him, it would be one of the other cousins who looked to inherit much of his father’s own wealth and position. He didn’t think she was keen for that to happen.
“My lady Emma,” he said, approaching her where she sat on a small wooden stool under the shade of a small canvas tent, watching with interest as her women surrounded her. She was dressed as carefully as ever, although her jewelry was more understated than on many state occasions, and she seemed more relaxed within herself. Her hair shone in the bright daylight, but he could see the faint traces of gray within it.
“Ah, Sheriff Leofric, thank you for coming to seek me out. Please sit beside me, I wish to speak to you of Earl Godwine.”
Leofric arranged himself beside the queen, very pleased to be offered a seat. His legs were aching from all the time he’d recently spent in the saddle, and he knew that what he really needed to be doing was exercising with his son on the training field, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to interfere. His son was enjoying the time on his own, and sometimes, as he well remembered, it was good not to have a father watching over every move you made.
“I understand he’s left for the coast,” Leofric said, as he settled himself on the proffered chair, and took hold of the drinking horn his sister passed to him. She smirked as she did so, as though they were children all over again, and not adults in a world of politics and war.
“He has yes, and before he left he came to see me, some worry about the other children Cnut might have fathered.” Her voice was laced with anger for all that she appeared relaxed in the summer’s sun.
Leofric cursed internally. He’d been thinking that Godwine had finally done the decent thing and gone to support his king, and yet, it seemed he’d managed to leave behind a torrent of trouble for Leofric. It seemed that nothing he ever did would go without some form of punishment.
The queen didn’t like to acknowledge the king’s other wife or his other children, and in return she never spoke of her own children with Æthelred. Yet it seemed that Godwine was prepared to incite a little jealousy just to ensure that Leofric knew he’d not truly won the content of wills between them.
“My apologies my lady, but I had to use any words I could to try and convince him of the urgent necessity of him following the king’s orders. He seemed too keen to glue himself to Harthacnut.”
As he spoke, he hoped that no word had yet reached the queen of Ælfgifu’s visit to him, and that his son had managed to keep silent on the matter. It had been a lot to ask the small lad to do.
He didn’t look at the queen, but instead, fixed his gaze on the men and boys as they practiced their fighting stances.
“The king acknowledges no other children,” Emma finally said, gravelly, and Leofric, knowing he was in dangerous territory, simply nodded his head in agreement.
“As you will my lady,” he said, his voice low. He also didn’t want Ælfgifu to learn that he’d been forced to deny her sons with his king. He sipped his ale. He could already feel a headache coming on.
“The king has assured me,” Emma continued, as though she wasn’t convinced by his reply.
“The king is a clever man,” he retorted, this time deciding to risk meeting her eyes. What he saw in them made him pleased he’d spoken. He saw a whole host of emotions cross her face, but also understanding. She knew her husband. She knew that whatever he said, he would use every resource he had at his command to ensure he gained and held onto his father’s old empire.
“He is yes, and sometimes he speaks as he feels he should and does exactly the opposite. But for now, it would be wise to remember that the king has only one son, and you see him before you. He’s a strong boy for so young, and he fights as his father does.”
“You should be very proud of him,” Leofric acknowledged, although he was watching his son laughing and giggling with the youth who was training him. It seemed that he was being shown some of the more ridiculous ways that a man could injure himself with his own weapons. Leofric quirked a smile as the youth tripped over his own long sword, made from wood on this occasion, that he’d allowed to fall from his weapons belt and had stood on the pommel.
“I’m very proud of him,” Emma asserted, unaware that while she watched Harthacnut, Leofric’s attention was elsewhere. “I’ll keep him by my side, make him the king of England. I believe your father was incorrect to convince me that he should be brought up in Denmark.”
This statement brought Leofric from his happy viewing, and he turned to meet the queen’s fierce gaze. He was momentarily fazed. He’d not considered that the queen would hold a grudge against him for his father’s actions. After all, the king had demanded that his old father, near to death and on his last visit to the court, speak to Emma about allowing Harthacnut to be brought up in Denmark by his aunt and Earl Ulfr.
“Still, in returning him to me, it seems you’ve righted that wrong, and in future, you can support me in making it clear that Harthacnut’s place is with me, here, in England. Perhaps it’s Cnut who should remain in Denmark, or perhaps he should just allow his sister to rule there on his behalf.”
Estrid, Cnut’s sister, and the woman who’d been raising Harthacnut in the place of his mother, was a feared Danish woman, a true balance of her warrior father and haughty mother. Her husband, Earl Ulfr, one of Cnut’s longest serving allies was known to have little say in their marriage, and although he was a combatant, it was his wife that men feared. Emma had never met her, but Leofric had, and he knew her to be a beautiful and controlling woman.
Leofric made a noise in his throat that could be interpreted as agreement, or disagreement, and hoped the queen would change the subject. He didn’t wish to be drawn on the matter, especially when he had no firm opinion either way. Certainly, if Cnut was to rule successfully, he needed representatives in each of his kingdoms. He was, however, surprised that Emma would allow Cnut to so easily leave her side. He’d thought the pair deeply in love. Perhaps the queen had visions of ruling alone, through her son, just as Earl Godwine did, and the Lady Ælfgifu.
Silence grew between them, and Leofric allowed his thoughts to drift to the future as well. It seemed everyone else was firmly entrenched in events that might happen in ten or fifteen years time from now. Perhaps he should consider the same.
In such a leap forward in time, he’d be an old man, and his son would be close to being a man in his own right. At the moment, his future seemed fraught with difficulties. His aunt might be one of the queen’s favored ladies, and his father a sheriff who was greatly respected in Mercia, and one who occasionally had the ear of both the king and the queen, but more than that couldn’t be guaranteed. If the games that Cnut wanted to play with his children and his wives continued, it was quite possible that Leofric would fall our of favor with one or other of them, and then his
son would need to build a reputation for himself.
Another generation distant from the respected Earl Leofwine, Ælfgar would have to virtually start all over again, finding some way to win the regard of the king or the queen, as there might be few alive who would even remember Leofwine and the most loyal supporter of two kings. Indeed if the lies that Cnut espoused about Æthelred’s reign took firm hold, as they seemed to be doing, having any connection with Æthelred might be viewed as negative aspect, not a positive one.
The thoughts soured his view of the day. He was still trying so hard to fulfill his father’s wishes, and yet he seemed to be thwarted at almost every turn. What would happen if he’d not been made an earl by the time his son needed to make his own way at the Witan? Would he be powerless to ensure he had the sort of life he hoped he would, one of service to the king but also one where he was richly rewarded for his sacrifices.
The queen, perhaps expecting him to turn his thoughts forward, stayed silent still, and continued to do so until both Ælfgar and Harthacnut made their way over to them.
Standing so close together, Leofric was concerned by the huge size difference between the two. He’d realized it, of course he had, but to see it so blatantly was sobering. His son was slight, and yet with a highly mobile face. Harthacnut looked like his father and although he had yet to do his main growing, which lay some years in the future, he could already tell that he’d be a physically strong man, perhaps able to rule through fear if need be.
Yet both boys were grinning with delight as they rambled away in a strange mixture of English and Danish, Ælfgar used to it from his time with Orkning and Olaf, while Harthacnut was used to it from his time on Denmark. It seemed that despite Emma’s threats, and Leofric fears, for now the boys could be friends. What came later would be up to them, or he hoped it would be. Interfering parents weren’t to be welcomed.
The boys collapsed onto a rug set out on the grass in a riot of sweat and the smell of leather, wood and iron, and the queen called for food and drink for everyone, but as Leofric sat and enjoyed the impromptu meal he felt unease gnaw at the back of his mind.
He’d thought that ensuring Earl Godwine went to Denmark would be the end of his task, but now he doubted it and worried that even his son would be used to persuade him to take actions he might not feel comfortable with.
He wanted to be as principled as his father had always been, as honorable as well, and yet, England was a different kingdom now to the one his father had first begun to rule over thirty years ago, and he needed to find a path through the twisted path of loyalty and treachery that had so worried his father all those years ago. And the only advantage he had over his father was that he wasn’t blinded in one eye, and partial to a limp.
Yet, in the end, even that infirmity had added to his father’s appeal and allowed him to claim that he actually saw men better with his one eye than with two.
Chapter 12
AD1026 Winchester
The queen didn’t so much command him to stay at Winchester while Cnut and Earl Godwine were away, as assume it. Every day when he thought he might make his escape from the scrutiny of those at the royal court, she would drop some little hint into a conversation of a task he could complete for her either the next day, or a week from now.
His sister was ecstatic, but not so his wife, or even himself, and in the end he sent Olaf to bring his wife to Winchester so that he could enjoy her company and give her some time to get to know the queen and his sister.
Harthacnut and Ælfgar, with Æthelflæd in almost constant attention, became firm friends, despite their differences in age, and Leofric began to worry that the Queen might demand Ælfgar remain with Harthacnut as one of his companions and that she might even offer to foster him when the time came.
He didn’t think his wife would approve of that and worried further, for now that Emma, Ælfgifu and Godwine had forced him to consider the future, he wanted to do all he could to ensure his son had as equal opportunity as any other to become friendly with his possible future kings, and not just one possible king.
His father had ensured he had a good relationship growing up with a number of the previous king’s sons, and although he’d not been thrown into events at the Witan in the same way that his older brother had been, he’d always been aware that politics and friendships were two very different ideas, if you wanted them to be.
The death of Athelstan and Edmund had been hard for him, and yet in Cnut he’d hoped to find a dynamic king who’d bring England firmly under his control and prevent any more incursions by raiders. Cnut had done so, but his brother had suffered the death of a traitor at his hands, and his father had struggled to reconcile this action with his own role in bringing Cnut the kingdom of England.
Even now Leofric felt that the events of the past were having an impact on his ability to progress at the Witan. His father had never been labeled as a traitor, despite his son’s actions, but for some reason, the stink of it all hovered over Leofric, more than likely because Earl Godwine was so loath to forget the events that had befallen his own father at the hand of Ealdorman Eadric’s hands nearly twenty years ago, and Northman had been an ally of Eadric’s.
It seemed that Godwine had held onto his resentment ever since, failing to understand that Leofwine had never endorsed Eadric, and had never let his son willingly be a part of his household. It was astounding the blatant known facts that Godwine was capable of ignoring.
The arrival of Godgifu caused a minor stir with the queen, mainly because the pair proceeded to engage in a competition to see who could be the most attentive mother to the young friends, but it wasn’t until late in the summer season that dismay rattled through the queen’s household, and it was the upon the occasion of the return of Cnut’s shipmen, or rather some of them, limping into London and Sandwich, their ships too damaged to return to their original port.
By chance, Leofric happened to have travelled to London on business for the queen, when the news spread through the settlement that men had been sighted coming up river, their ships far from in good condition, fear had threatened to swamp him. He’d tried not to think of Orkning all summer, or the rest of his men, but now it all came back to him in a swirl of worry and fear.
Leofric, forgetting whatever it was that the queen had asked of him, quickly made his way to the harbor where he was lucky enough to come upon the men who’d escorted him to Norway earlier in the year.
He looked aghast at the state of the ships making their way up the Thames, even more dismayed when his ship’s commander, Jon, informed him that these were the lucky ones, other’s hadn’t even made it back from the great river battle.
Eager to hear all the news, and being assured that it had been a victory despite it appearing to the contrary, Leofric led Jon to the closest ale-hall and had him recount the tale of the Battle of Holy River, or the Battle of Helgeå, as it was being called by the English and Danish alike.
Jon was blunt as he spoke, and Leofric listened to his long story without interrupting even once, although Leofric was careful to see how he appeared physically. He was, as all men of the sea were, a well-built individual, his face weathered by the sea, and his clothing made to withstand the sting of the sea and the heat of the sun. Yet his eyes were deeply troubled and Leofric found himself unable to ask after Orkning.
“Well my lord,” the tired man began, wiping his running nose with the sleeve of his tunic and then grimacing at his own actions, “it all began well enough. Cnut led the ships from Ribe to Fyrkat, being met by others along the way. It was our intention to go to Jelling, but Earl Ulfr met Cnut near Århus, and it was decided that there was no need to return to Jelling after all.”
The man drank deeply from his ale cup, swallowing the liquid with delight, and then looking hopefully for some food, which Leofric quickly ordered from an attentive inn-keep, gesturing for him to continue.
“Earl Ulfr had scout ships out along the coastal lands, of which there’s many, searching f
or Anund Jakob and Olaf Haraldsson. Yet he’d seen no sight of them, and only when Cnut shared the news that you’d been told by Olaf that the plan was to meet in Skåne, did the scout ships have any joy. Only then did they find the bulk of the fleet along a river called the Holy River, the Helgeå in Danish.”
“They watched the combined fleet for a day or two, aware that there were many, many ships, but hopefully not more than Ulfr and Cnut had at their command. The numbers that they reported were massive, over 400 ships, and yet Cnut laughed at the news because he thought he had over 500 at his own command. Even now, I don’t believe either number.”
Leofric had to agree with Jon’s rational argument. He couldn’t imagine there being that many ships either. He couldn’t imagine any of the kings having so many men at their command.
“Yet what the scout ships failed to do was actually take note of what the ships were doing. They were too pleased to have simply found them, and sadly, none of the men on the ships that found Anund Jakob and Olaf Haraldsson were aware that the river they had their ships on was just as much a trap for Cnut as it was for his enemy.”
Leofric was disturbed to hear those words, but he let the man continue at his own pace, noticing how his neck muscles strained as though he fought a battle, and wasn’t recounting one. Leofric could only guess at what horrors Jon had seen.
“Cnut and Earl Ulfr instructed the men to race with all speed to the mouth of Holy River. Cnut thought the name was apt, and sent Ulfr along with about a hundred ships. His plan was to follow along behind him and if necessary reinforce him, but he hoped to try and attack any who managed to escape Ulfr’s initial attack. He didn’t think they’d be many but his aim was to capture Anund Jakob and Olaf himself. He didn’t think that either man would allow themselves to be captured in the initial battle but would try and escape.”