by M J Porter
It seemed that she’d not failed to bring the men of Mercia to her side, far from it in fact, but it was clear that she was unhappy with the less than overwhelming support she’d received. Perhaps she was even angry with Leofric for his failure to endorse her as openly as she might have wanted. Once more he wondered why the two women couldn’t allow the king his time to rule, why they had to be constantly looking to the future when they hoped their sons would rule in his place.
He’d arranged to meet with the Lady Ælfgifu at her own hall, a grand affair on the outskirts of the large settlement. He’d been to visit her before and so knew the way, as did the men who escorted him. Still he found himself unconsciously turning to speak to Orkning and cursed loudly when he realized he’d forgotten that he was still missing, and most probably dead. He doubted he’d ever get over the loss of his friend, and wondered whether he wanted to. For now it was just another reason for him to be annoyed with the king, and neither was he the only one.
His arrival within the town had clearly been watched for so that when he rode through the gates of Ælfgifu’s hall he found her waiting for him. His eyes wracked her appearance, looking to see if there was any fear in her stance, but all he was rewarded with was the proud glance of a woman who thought she was beyond reproach.
He sighed heavily as he swung his legs from his horse and jumped to the ground. This was going to go about as well as his discussion with his wife. Still, he planted a warming smile on his face and strode toward her.
“Lady Ælfgifu,” he said, “my thanks for agreeing to my request to meet with you,” he continued congenially. Her eyes were anything but welcoming and he almost mounted his horse and left there and then. Really, other than Earl Hakon’s desire that he be friendly with both women and allow neither to cause trouble, he had absolutely no reason to be putting himself in such a painful situation.
“Sheriff Leofric,” she offered, motioning for him to follow her, not into her hall, but around the outside, and through a small orchard, resplendent with reddening apples.
He walked beside her, but offered nothing else, instead taking the opportunity to admire her clothes.
When he’d last seen her, he’d initially been beguiled by her beauty but now, a year later, her face was harder and her posture even more unyielding. She wore clothes that must cost just as much as the queen’s and he could see that she was making a very obvious effort to behave as though she were the wife of the king. He almost pitied her, until she spoke.
“You come to berate me for my wish to gather powerful allies to my side, and yet you fail to chastise the queen, and she does exactly the same.” Her words were heated and perhaps not the most politic, but he nodded all the same.
“Well, I come to discuss my concerns for the stability of Northumbria, in all honesty. The rumors from the place worry me, and I think you should perhaps be a little more wary of whom you speak to.”
“So you come to speak to me as your father might once have done then?” she hissed, and Leofric was surprised to find her so angry all ready.
“My lady, I come to speak with you more as a friend than anything else. You’re a close confidant of my wife, and I fear for you.”
“Yet you don’t fear for the Lady Emma, or is it just that you choose to pick on me rather than her?”
“The queen has the support of the king, and all men see it. You, your, well, as you know, the king acknowledges his sons but not always yourself. It’s an unfortunate situation, I agree, and one he needs to take a firm lead on, only he needs to be in the country to do anything.”
She glanced at him sharply, an unreadable expression on her face as he questioned the king’s wisdom.
“The king is still legally my husband, I’ve had the situation examined at length. Just because the bloody archbishop decided that I wasn’t good enough for him and allowed him to wed again, doesn’t remove my claim on him, or my rights to be treated as the wife of the king.”
It was clear she’d had this argument many times before and yet Leofric sighed loudly to hear them once more.
“The legality, or not, of the king’s situation isn’t what worries me. It’s what you plan to do in Northumbria that does. Since Erik’s unexpected death there’s only been an uneasy calm there. The people want a firm ruler, especially with Malcolm on their borders. The king is remiss to not name a successor but I think he was hopeful that Ealdred of Bamburgh would keep the peace. Your words and your actions in seeking out allies for your sons, is upsetting the delicate balance, making it more likely that there will be some sort of uprising against the current situation, and Malcolm will be only too pleased to take advantage of such discord.”
“You make too much of my effort,” Ælfgifu tried to dismiss his worries, but she held a pensive look in her eyes. He hoped she hadn’t already taken greater steps to secure her allies in the north. Her brothers, although blind, held a core of sentiment amongst the Northumbrians. Some felt that they should have ruled after their father’s death, and not Uhtred of Bamburgh, and they still felt the rawness of King Æthelred’s treatment of the man. Perhaps there was also a deeper underlying unease in Northumbria. The previous ealdorman had been Æthelred’s father-in-law and still he’d failed to live up to the king’s expectations of him and had been removed from his position, and some said had been murdered, just like Ælfgifu’s father had been only a few years later.
Northumbria felt very much as though it was an often-ignored element of the kingdom and Leofric thought it probably had every right to, although under Earl Erik, Northumbria had gained some greater credibility, it had been sadly lost since his death.
“I can only relay what I hear, and I hear that your exertion is a great one, that you call on all of your father’s allies and that you think your son will one day be king in place of his father, and not ‘that bitch’s Harthacnut.’ She flinched at his words and in doing so he knew that she’d used those exact words. He felt his annoyance increase. Really, was it so difficult to wait for the king to return from whatever adventures he was having in Denmark and Norway?
“My sons are older than Harthacnut, and as I say, they’re the legitimate sons of the king, born from a marriage that’s still legal. It’s Harthacnut who’s the illegitimate son, but that bitch won’t admit it. She should know that he only married her out of necessity, he married me for love.”
Leofric walked away from the raging Ælfgifu and found himself a small wooden bench to sit on. This wasn’t his argument to be having, and yet it seemed he had no choice but to pursue it. He spoke just loudly enough so that she could hear him.
“The queen has the support of the men and women in the south, she has the support of the men and women in East Anglia, in most of Mercia, in Wessex. She’s their queen and yes, it’s her son that they see as their king’s heir. All they know of you is that your father was murdered on the previous king’s orders. All they know of you is that you’re determined to make claims that they feel they can easily dispute.”
Before she could interrupt he continued.
“They don’t believe Cnut was ever legally married to you, and even those who might give you the benefit of the doubt, would still say that an heir born to a king and queen far outweighs any children born before that marriage. Emma and Cnut do well to have them all turn a blind eye to her two sons in Normandy, on those very grounds, your arguments and demands to be recognised are seen as the ravings of a woman who’s been permanently scarred by her father’s murder and her brothers blinding. They don’t see you as someone Cnut would have chosen to marry, even if he could have done. They simply don’t recognise what happened between the pair of you, and they never will, not unless Cnut acknowledges you, and I can’t see why he would.”
“The king, my husband,” and she stressed those two words, “made assurances to me, and in his absence, I have no choice but to begin the processes he should already have set in place, of allowing my sons to be formally accepted as his heirs. In Northumbria, a place close
ly associated with my own family, they’re happy to accede to my sons, and my sons are keen to rule there as well. Precisely because Earl Erik is dead, the people there look for some sort of continuity and some admission from Cnut that Northumbria is as valued as Denmark or Skåne. I’m doing the king a massive favor. Malcolm of Scotland will soon forget about Northumbria and remember that he should have his eyes firmly on his own kingdom, not on Cnut’s.”
“Truly, is that all you do?” Leofric pressed thinking that it sounded as though Ælfgifu had managed to convince herself that what she said was the truth.
“Of course it is. What would I have to gain from undermining Cnut within his own kingdom?”
“You might wish to split the English kingdom, as it’s been done before. You might dream of the north of England for your sons, while Harthacnut has to make do with Wessex.”
Her bark of laugher, faked and forced, made him realize that Ælfgifu truly did foresee such a future but he didn’t press her.
“What of Norway or Skåne?” he asked instead and her head flickered to his with lightning speed.
“Why would my sons rule those kingdoms? They have no allies there. They would struggle even more there. Cnut barely rules those lands. If Cnut were barely acceptable to them then his sons born from an English wife would be even less tolerable for them all. If Swein or Harald went to Denmark, Norway or Skåne, they would be ridiculed.”
“But they have the names of Cnut’s royal house, the House of Gorm, and they could only rule there with Cnut’s blessing.”
“No,” she said, and her answer was short and adamant. “My sons will rule in England. He can take his bitch’s son there once more, if he wishes to, but my sons will rule in England, just as their grandfather did before them, and their father.”
Leofric thought he was losing any chance he might have of persuading her to his point of view, and he could think of only one final tactic.
“And you know that this is what Cnut plans for his sons, do you?” It was meant to make her think carefully about her intentions but instead her stern and angry face crumbled, and he was left watching her in shock as she sobbed, the broken hearted sobs of a woman who’s lost everything she’d ever wanted.
Leofric looked around helplessly, unsure what to do, hopeful that she wasn’t fooling him. It seemed that her tears were genuine and certainly long lasting. In the end, he stood, and placed a supportive arm around her back.
When Ælfgifu looked at him, he could see the ashes of all her hopes and dreams on her face and he wished himself anywhere but here.
“Cnut abandoned his family a decade ago. What he wants or expects is irrelevant to me. He promised to love me throughout his long life, and he failed to do that. I’ll not allow him to forget about his sons, no matter how much he might want to.”
“Cnut broke my heart, he’ll not destroy my sons in the same way. You can either support me or you can stand distant, but either way, I plan on ensuring that my sons have the sort of stronghold your father built for you, and then, when their damn father remembers who they are, and that he has more than just the one son, they’ll be ready for him, no matter what he decrees.”
With that she shrugged off his comforting arm and scrubbed at her face before making her way inside her hall.
She offered him no invitation to enter, and he stood there considering everything she’d just revealed or hinted at.
Whatever it was that Cnut had thought he could do with his two wives and three sons, it was fast becoming evident that he needed to get on with it.
Cnut needed to come back to England or he’d have nothing to come back to.
He sighed even more deeply than on his way to Northampton, and went to mount his horse. As he walked past the hall, two youths rushed from its open doorway and he recognised them with a start as Harald and Swein.
The boys clearly didn’t recognise him as they rushed for their own horses and rushed from the enclosure shouting one to the other, but Leofric watched them with narrowed eyes.
They’d once beaten his own son and their mother had made excuses for them, and more worryingly, so had his own wife. Now they were nearly the full height of their father, and looked every inch the regal prince that Leofric remembered Cnut being all those years ago when they’d first met.
He could understand why some would want to offer their oaths of commendation to them, become they were almost men in deeds as well as words, if only because they looked so like Cnut, with just a trace of Swein for any who could remember the first, short-lived, Danish king. Many in Northampton would do.
He swallowed thickly as he swung onto the back of his horse. The Lady Ælfgifu made no effort to bid him good day and neither did her expect her to, instead spurring his horse so that he could follow the two youths and determine what they planned. Was it just youthful antics or something more sinister?
He tracked the youths and their horses back through the busy market street, noticing with dismay that both of them were too imperious to go slowly and gently through the crowded place, and that more and more people were forced to jump out of their way.
When he himself followed them through, going carefully and apologizing for disturbing the busy buying and selling, he was met with the sullen eyes of those who’d just been inconvenienced and even some who muttered angrily about the intrusion. It was evident that the boys had few loyal supporters amongst the general people within Northampton itself and he thought that perhaps Ælfgifu should deal with that issue before thinking of Northumbrian noble men.
Once out of the busy area, he searched for the lads, but he’d delayed too long, apologizing and ensuring he didn’t injure anyone and the boys had ridden off, and he had no idea where. He reined his horse in and considered everything he’d seen.
A few things were becoming clear to him.
The Lady Ælfgifu was bitterly disappointed in her husband and the father of her children. The very fact that she’d not remarried made it clear that she still considered herself married, no matter what Cnut and his archbishop thought.
It was also evident that she’d raised her sons to believe themselves kings-in-training. They’d none of the skills that were required to rule people because they believed they were owed allegiance whether they’d earned it or not. That both sons so closely resembled their father was also something that needed to be considered, as did their considerable size and obvious training.
They might never have been in a war or a battle, but they had trained every day as though one day they would be. It meant that Ælfgifu was training them for war, whether against their father or their half-brother remained to be seen.
It was a simple matter of numbers. Ælfgifu had two sons, Emma only the one. Ælfgifu could afford to lose a son and Emma could not. If it ever came to war, Harthacnut would be less keen to strike at his half-brothers than Swein and Harald might be against Harthacnut.
Leofric thought of his own son and instantly worried for him. England might well be calm and peaceful for now, but it was a thin veil of civility that overrode everything else. Cnut, by marrying twice and more importantly, fathering more than one son by both of his wives, was ensuring that England wouldn’t always remain peaceful. How could it when three young men would all want to claim the kingdom when their father died or sooner, if their father was injured or impaired in some way?
And Cnut seemed to be doing all he could to bring about his own death. He’d battled at the Holy River, even now he was in Denmark or Norway preparing to face Olaf Haraldsson in battle once more, and he’d left no one but his queen and his cast-off wife in England who had any real power, unless Leofric counted the archbishops and bishops, and he was not keen to do so. The archbishops would have no power to back up their words, other than God’s word, and for all Leofric knew, Harald and Swein had been raised in the religion of the old Gods, not the new. Obviously there was Earl Godwine as well, but Leofric tried to dismiss him and his self-interested ways.
Too many people with self
-interests were running England for Cnut, and if he didn’t hurry up and return, those egotisms might just outweigh Cnut’s hold on the kingdom. He might well find himself without the very kingdom he’d campaigned so long and so hard for. It was an unpleasant thought and yet Leofric sensed the rightfulness of it.
He would need to consider his future a lot more carefully in light of all he’d seen, heard, suspected and knew.
Chapter 16
AD1028
The King’s Witan
Leofric was wary as he entered the church. He’d tried to avoid the queen and Ælfgifu as much as possible during Cnut’s absence, not caring that it contravened his agreement with Earl Hakon. It had also allowed him to stay away from the court and Earl Godwine as well. That had been an added bonus, but now he had little choice but to attend upon the queen, as requested.
Cnut was still dealing with his unruly Empire, and that angered Leofric more than he’d thought it should. It wasn’t as if it was his kingship that was under threat. No, it was Cnut who was playing with fire and had much to lose, not Leofric. He was still merely a sheriff and if the kingship changed hands, he’s still be merely a sheriff. His position wasn’t dependent on the king, but rather a function of the mechanism that allowed justice to be administered and taxes collected throughout the kingdom.
He was an official, and officials didn’t stand or fall with their king. No matter what the future pretended to be, he had nothing to lose and even less to gain from his absent king.
Yet, he was hopeful as well as wary as he took his seat near the back of the hall. It was Easter and the king would normally have made this into a spectacular occasion to wear his crown and generally remind everyone that he was the king. He’d missed last Easter and as far as Leofric knew, Cnut was no closer to being home permanently, and neither was he closer to being the king of Norway, although he still held Skåne.