The Earl of Mercia

by M J Porter

  Yet she responded angrily to the admission.

  “Bloody Godwine. If he sodding well knew, then he should have done something about it, not left it to you. And how convenient it is that it just happens to stop him having to come to Hedeby as the king commanded. I’ll speak to my brother about him,” she continued angrily, as she directed them away from the quay and toward the busier part of the settlement.

  Leofric was pleased to hear she shared his anger toward Godwine, but also confused.

  “It won’t do any good. Hakon assured me he’d speak to Cnut and that was over a year ago. Nothing’s been done. I don’t think the king likes to be questioned on his choices.”

  At that Estrid stopped abruptly and stared at him.

  “I’ve heard no such discussion between Hakon and Cnut. You might find that Hakon doesn’t wish to broach the subject with him. They’re so close to holding all of my father’s land in Norway, to returning the command there to Hakon, that I think he’s wary of offending the king in case he loses his claim there.”

  “Hakon?” Leofric asked in surprise, but Estrid merely nodded.

  “It seems my brother is tired of being questioned for his decision to remain away from England for so long. He relies on Godwine. To take any action against him now would imperil his vision of his united empire, and Cnut isn’t prepared to do that. He won’t return to England until Norway and Skåne are peaceful under his rule, or rather as peaceful as it’s possible to be while Olaf Haraldsson still lives.”

  Estrid turned to walk away, but then turned back and laid a comforting hand on Leofric’s arms. Her touch was hot burning through his layers of clothing.

  “Don’t think the king has forgotten about you. He relies on monthly messengers from the court in England, and he asks after specific people, some names he cringes to hear and others he hears impassively, but he remembers everything that he’s been told and everything that his allies, or enemies, have done for or against him.”

  The thought was only half a comfort considering Leofric’s recent refusal to act to heal the divide opening up within England between the king’s two wives, but he shrugged that aside. He’d come to find Orkning, not worry about his king.

  “Have you looked for Orkning?” he asked, turning to the matter that was important to him, surprised to see Estrid flush with embarrassment.

  “I meant to, but I’ve only recently heard the news myself. Still, I have a good idea where he might be, and if he’s not there, I’ll instruct my two men to continue the search so that you can meet with Cnut.”

  “Cnut’s here?” Leofric asked with some surprise. He’d expected him to be in Norway.

  “Yes, the king is here. He came to meet his daughter, and Earl Godwine. Don’t worry though, he’ll be just as pleased to see you.”

  Leofric didn’t feel comforted but allowed Estrid to lead him to where she believed the shipmen often made their homes when they weren’t on board ship. It wasn’t the nicest of homes from the outside, the wood starting to decay and the thatch in need of a great deal of repair work, but as Leofric stepped inside the long hall, he could see why the men congregated here.

  It was more a brothel than anything, and yet it was filled with men of the sea, all sea-stained and wrinkled from their long stretches at sea, and the family who must run the hall were making every effort to make it appear as though it were a great lord’s feasting hall. It was hot and smoky and the smell of cooking food tumbled out of the doorway. The men sat about drinking, or playing board games, and amongst them trailed a small number of attractive women, ostensibly working as serving girls, but also, it seemed, as more, as Leofric watched one of the women being led away by a burly man, his eyes shining with desire.

  Estrid’s arrival amongst them all caused some consternation and a small, portly man came waddling over to her, quickly joined by a taller woman, with no spare flesh on her frame at all. The man opened his mouth to speak but the woman quickly talked over him.

  “My lady?” the woman said, bobbing a small curtsey and inclining her head quizzically. “Have you lost another of your men?” she asked conspiratorially, and Estrid laughed.

  “No my good woman, I’ve not lost one of my men again, although I do hear that you tempt them away from their duties whenever they can get away. But now, it’s not one of my men I look for, but an Englishman, the commended man of Sheriff Leofric.”

  The woman turned appraising eyes on Leofric, as if searching for his wealth in his clothes and demeanor, and as though she wanted to say something derogatory about Englishmen, but Leofric had thought ahead, and had come dressed as a Danish warrior, complete with the arm ring that Cnut had gifted him with the last time he’d visited Hedeby, when his father had still been alive.

  Whatever she saw in his bearing, she grunted something that might have been approval and looked questioningly at him. He was prepared for this as well and lay in her palm one of Cnut’s English silver coins, complete with his image hammered onto the front.

  She took the coin but seemed to be waiting for more, and so he handed a further four and then raised his eyebrows at her. He was surprised that even with Estrid in attendance, she wasn’t prepared to offer any information unless he paid her. He’d ask the king’s sister about it later.

  “We’ve many Englishmen,” she said appraisingly, and Leofric thought she was going to drag out her answer even longer, in the hope of getting more coin, but behind him there was a movement, and the short man’s eyes started to show a spurt of fear. He thought that perhaps Estrid’s warriors had made some sort of threatening movement. He’d have to remember to reward them later as well.

  “He’s an Englishman but with Danish parentage. You might remember his father, Horic, from when Olaf Tryggvason plied his trade through here.” Estrid spoke calmly, as though the matter was of little importance to her, but something in her words or her tone had a strange look crossing the woman’s face and she gasped in horror, her hands going to her mouth as she tried to deny what she’d been told.

  “Horic?” she mused as though she’d only just made the connection. “You must mean Sven,” she gasped. “I knew there was something about him that I recognised but he denied it, quite vehemently.”

  “Is he here?” Leofric asked impatiently, trying to seek out his friend amongst the rabble of men and women.

  “Why didn’t he say anything?” the woman asked with horror, and while Leofric frantically searched for Orkning amongst the sea of men, the small man finally spoke.

  “He’s not here. He took ship. Said he was going north to fight for King Cnut, he said it was his duty to. He was here with a ship full of other men, they all said they’d fought at the Battle of Helgeå, although now I think about it, Sven never said he’d been there.”

  “We think he was injured, has perhaps lost his memory,” Estrid was explaining patiently, and while Leofric allowed his desolation at not finding his friend to creep upon him, Estrid and her warriors were making some sort of arrangement with the woman and the man that Leofric barely noticed. He’d come so far and yet still hadn’t found his friend, didn’t truly know if he still lived, apart from the fact that the woman did seem to have a clear recollection of Horic. He wished he had the time to speak to her about other men his father had once known and spoken of in glowing terms but he was already half out of the door. Perhaps he’d be able to go north with the king, and find Orkning that way.

  Disappointed, and in silence, the four of them made their way back to the royal hall at Hedeby, and it was only as they were about to enter the hall that Estrid spoke again.

  “He won’t let you, but he’ll look for him if you ask him to. He knows the importance of men he values, and also those he doesn’t.” Her face soured and Leofric recalled that he’d heard a rumor that the king had fallen out with Estrid’s husband and that he’d either disappeared or was dead. He didn’t like to ask Estrid about it, after all, she’d been kind enough to help him with his missing friend, and she’d probably expe
ct him to know of events that affected her as well. He really wished he’d paid more attention in the last two years rather than letting his grief and his frustration get to him.

  ‘My thanks for your help,” he muttered once more and again she reached out and touched his arm, the heat blazing along his own chill body.

  “My brother does think highly of you. It’s just he’s much distracted of late. If he speaks to you about events in England, be truthful, not judgmental. He needs to know the reality of events there. And don’t worry. Cnut will either find Orkning in Norway, or I’ll find him when he returns and send him home to you. I’m sure, just as Godwine’s contact was, that your friend yet lives and will continue to do so. His father was a true warrior. Orkning will be able to use his skills to great effect. After all, he’s not dead.”

  He hardly found the words comforting, but Estrid was already walking away from him in a blaze of bright colours and he allowed his hope to grow once more. It seemed that Orkning did yet live. All he needed to do was get him home. Oh, and get through whatever awkward conversation he must now have with his king. Perhaps he could also send word to Snorri at the church in Trondheim. It might be that he would have heard of Orkning, or Sven as he was calling himself.

  Resolved, he strode into the king’s great hall, trying to appear confident and keen to speak to the king. He did well to do so, for as soon as he entered he could feel the king’s gaze on him and as he smiled with delight to see Gunnhilda at the center of a small group of young women, all giggling and talking around the fire, he strode to his king.

  He could barely remember the last time he’d seen Cnut, and yet, he’d not changed, not at all in that time. Leofric was once more arrested by his constrained energy and his Danish looks. There was no one else within the hall capable of capturing the eye of everyone else and yet he did it without even noticing.

  “Sheriff Leofric,” Cnut bellowed to him from his place beside his sister near the hearth. It seemed she’d been whispering to him, something quite urgent, and although Leofric doubted it was about his search for Orkning, he couldn’t be sure it wasn’t. Estrid was proving to be more of a friend to him than perhaps his own king was.

  “My lord,” Leofric offered back, striding to the left side of the fire, where a collection of stools and fine wooden backed chairs had been pulled together. Immediately, one of the men who’d been talking to Cnut stood and walked away. Leofric assumed he was one of his shipmen, perhaps taking orders for their coming attack on Norway.

  Cnut stood to greet him, offering him first a firm arm shake, and then enfolding him in a great hug. Cnut took the opportunity to whisper into his ear.

  “We’ll speak in private later my friend, for now, we’ll talk of little and nothing.”

  The caution was all that Leofric needed to hear. He was a man who knew when to hold his tongue and when to speak, or at least he hoped he was.

  “It’s good to see you my lord,” he offered, hoping that those words were benign enough.

  “Likewise, and my thanks for bringing Gunnhilda to me. It seems you’re getting a reputation as a man I can trust with my children,” and despite Cnut’s words, Leofric knew that he wasn’t mistaken when he saw a sheen of something else in his king’s eyes. It seemed that he probably knew about Ælfgifu already. Perhaps he really had instructed her to find their sons some allies. He’d need to ask him later, and if so, perhaps it was past time that he stood more firmly with Ælfgifu as opposed to trying to balance between the two.

  His father had almost always enjoyed a good relationship with Emma, but as he was proving, Leofric was not his father.

  “She’s a delightful child. I’m pleased she’s made a good marriage.” Now Cnut’s face twisted and Estrid laughed in delight.

  “He’s pleased as well, honestly,” she chortled, calling for food and ale. “He just doesn’t know it yet.” Cnut glared at his sister, but having retaken his seat, and gestured for Leofric to sit, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his outstretched hands.

  “Emperor Conrad is an astonishing man. I could only wish for his breadth of power. I hope the Pope will offer me just as much backing as he does to Conrad, when my own empire is settled and more easily defensible.”

  There was a light of triumph in Cnut’s eyes as he spoke and Leofric thought that his king could envisage a future of greatness. It perhaps explained his refusal to return to England.

  “And what of his son, Gunnhilda’s future husband?”

  “Well, admittedly, he’s no older than Gunnhilda, a child still, but if his father raises him as he should, and keeps hold of his kingdom, he too will one day have an empire to call his own, and in the meantime, my own borders with the mainland are secured. It’s an excellent building block for the future. Gunnhilda will be an empress. I’m sure that her mother won’t begrudge her such a future?” Cnut spoke rhetorically and Leofric knew better than to answer. Even Estrid lost her amused expression at his words, and turned to watch the young girl instead.

  “How is Harthacnut?” Cnut then asked and Leofric felt on surer footing here.

  “He trains well, and he grows well. I hear that he can take on almost any man within the household troops, and while he might not beat them, he has no fear of trying. He was, however, a little frustrated that no one criticizes his technique when I last saw him. I ensured I did so and that seemed to settle his worries a little. He looks just like you.”

  Cnut smirked at the image of his son that Leofric had provided and then gestured that he should eat. All around him the entire hall had fallen silent as everyone enjoyed an evening meal. It seemed so domesticated that Leofric thought he could be excused for thinking that enemies didn’t threaten Denmark and that his king wasn’t about to journey to Norway and try and oust the usurper, Olaf Haraldsson from power. In many ways it was little different to such events in England, where all but the most well informed of Cnut’s followers, earls and bishops, were oblivious of events that continued apace elsewhere.

  It almost exempted Cnut’s failure to return to England. Why would he need to, when after all, events there were taking control of themselves? As he ate the delicious fish provided by Estrid and availed himself of only so much ale that speech would still be possible, he could only wish that his reception at the king’s hall in England was as welcoming as here in Denmark. Perhaps he was wrong to worry so much about England. Feasibly he should have come to Denmark long before. Perhaps he should ask Cnut if there was an area he could administer for him in Denmark or Norway.

  Just as quickly he changed his mind. Denmark was peaceful under Estrid, but Norway? No Norway was still too violent for him, and as an Englishman he’d also be less than welcome.

  “As soon as Olaf Haraldsson is dead, my son will return to Denmark, and the care of my sister. He’ll rule here in my name, and I’ll return to the English. I understand that they have a …. need of me. And tell me. How is Earl Godwine? I expected him to escort Gunnhilda.”

  “The Earl is well. He,” and Leofric looked to Estrid before he chose his next words, and quickly decided to take her advise, “allowed me to come in his place. I needed to determine if Orkning still lives or not. I understand the man others think might be Orkning has gone to Norway with some of your ships.”

  Cnut’s face stilled at the news, and he looked questioningly at Leofric.

  “You speak of Horic’s son?” he queried and Leofric nodded.

  “He was lost in the Battle of Holy River, but Godwine understood from one of his men that he might yet live. I came to find him.”

  The news seemed to worry Cnut as Leofric fell quiet, unsure of himself.

  “So many damn fucking men,” Cnut growled angrily. “None of them should have died, none of them,” his anger was immediate and intense and Leofric wished he’d not mentioned the battle at all. Only Cnut’s fury wasn’t directed at him, but at Olaf Haraldsson and Anund Jakob and his next words surprised Leofric even more.

  “Damn U
lfr,” he rumbled and he noticed that Estrid was shaking her head at Cnut’s words.

  Leofric wasn’t sure what they were talking about. Why should he damn Ulfr? Was this the core for their falling out?

  It was Estrid who answered.

  “The reason Harthacnut went back to England is because Ulfr hoped to make him king in his father’s place. Cnut discovered the treachery, because of careless words spoken by some of Ulfr’s allies. He wanted to allow him to make amends, in the attack on his enemies, but Cnut is unsure. He thinks Ulfr purposefully led the men to their deaths.”

  The news was like a sword to the stomach.

  “Ulfr is dead,” Estrid continued with finality in her voice. It was clear she didn’t even wish to discuss her husband and the father of her sons, but Leofric understood even more why she’d cautioned him against speaking against Godwine and why Cnut had been forced to stay in Denmark after his trip to Rome. It seemed enemies surrounded him. Everywhere.

  “I’ll look for Orkning when I travel to Norway within the next few months. You have my promise that if I find him; I’ll ensure he’s returned to England. It’s the least I can do and I only wish that more of the men had survived.”

  “Now, I wish to speak with my daughter, as a father should. I’ll seek you out before you return to England. My thanks once more.” Cnut stood with finality and walked to extract his daughter from her huddle of new friends. Leofric stayed where he was, worried that he’d upset the king, and even more worried that he could upset him far worse if he decided to speak about Godwine.