by M J Porter
“My lady,” he offered, sliding from his horse and moving to assist her from her own. He was dusty and sweaty and longed for some water to swill over his hands as he removed his gloves, but the queen didn’t seem to mind, sliding from her horse lightly, as though she was no more than a young girl. She wore riding gloves of soft leather, rimmed with a small amount of fur, which he thought a little obscene in the warm day, but then, he wasn’t used to seeing her ride for pleasure only ever on business or when moving from one of her properties to another.
“Tell me of Gunnhilda,” she spoke a little breathlessly as her eyes scanned her servants and ladies to ensure they were doing whatever they’d been instructed to do on arrival. Content, she left them to it, and indicated that she wished to walk away from the sudden hubbub of activity.
Leofric began to walk toward the cooling shade of a small collection of trees, while the queen kept her hand lightly on his arm.
“Gunnhilda is a delight,” he began by saying, thinking that all parents liked to be told of how pleasing their children were. Neither was he wrong to do so, for the queen giggled with delight. It seemed that now that Gunnhilda was gone, she’d reconciled herself to the fact that she might never see her only daughter again. For a brief moment he faltered, wondering if she’d forgotten her sons with Æthelred just as easily.
Her questing gaze brought him back to the here and now.
“She took delight in being on the ship, she was over-joyed to see her aunt, and also her father.” He didn’t imagine the sharp nip on his arm as he spoke of Cnut and yet he ignored it.
“The king urged me to thank you for the excellent care of Gunnhilda and for sending her to him so promptly. He was delighted to see her and spent much time speaking with her, even in the few days I lingered there, looking for Orkning.”
At the mention of his Orkning a slight frown graced his queen’s face and Leofric thought he shouldn’t have mentioned it at all, and hastened to tell her all that had happened. As soon as she was assured that she’d not offended him by forgetting his own purpose in visiting Hedeby, she began to press him for more and more details of her daughter and husband.
“The king and I spoke in confidence. He asked me to assure you of his love in his absence, and to also tell you that his plans are to return to England with the worsening weather, and once Norway is firmly his again.” Those words delighted her, and he swallowed thickly as he thought of the next part of his instructions. He decided there was little for it but just to say it.
“The king is keen for Harthacnut to return to Denmark as soon as Norway is settled once more.” This time the tightening on his arm was pronounced, and although he didn’t look at the queen as he spoke, he heard her gasp of surprise and dismay. He wished he’d not had to bring her such bad news.
He even heard her swallow her unhappiness and appreciated the effort she took to turn her eyes back to him and try and mirror the brightness he’d seen in her when they’d first met.
“Then I wish my husband well in his endeavors, although I will miss my son, I hope he’ll be proud of how much we’ve accomplished in his absence. But tell me, what of the king’s sister and her traitorous husband?”
“My understanding is that Earl Ulfr is dead, and that for now Estrid manages Denmark in Cnut and Harthacnut’s absence. The men and women of Denmark respect her for she is one of Swein Forkbeard’s own children, and of course, she has two sons who will grow to be powerful men, in good time.”
“She has two sons?” the queen probed and Leofric heard distress in her voice. It seemed that she was torn, perhaps wanting to tell her husband to allow his sister to govern in his absence so that she’d not be torn apart from both of her children, and yet, she didn’t want Estrid’s sons to govern when her son should. Yet, surely her son had told her of his playmates, and Cnut. It was no secret.
“Yes, of a similar age to Harthacnut.” He offered softly.
“Yes, yes, of course, I’d simply forgotten,” she muttered just as softly, trying to mask distress in her voice.
“The king will by now be taking Lady Gunnhilda to meet her prospective family, and as soon as that’s done, he’ll travel to Norway,” he tried to divert the queen away from whatever dark thoughts consumed her, and she too tried to turn her thoughts aside.
“She’s a pretty thing,” Emma muttered and Leofric felt a tug of remorse in his own heart. People lived for the children they brought into their world, and yet, it seemed that all too soon, they had to let them go. It was a sorrow he’d not yet experienced but knew he would soon. Ælfgar would need to be fostered in the near future, and he didn’t look forward to the necessity of it, not at all.
As if the queen heard his thoughts she turned too bright eyes on him.
“I think that if I’m to lose my son and my daughter that I should fill my court with foster-children. It’ll ease my burden of loneliness,” she said and Leofric merely grunted. It was too easy to forget that the queen was more than likely past carrying any more children for the king. All she could do now was wait for grandchildren, and it seemed she was unwilling to do so, and that she might never meet her daughter’s children anyway.
He pitied her for a moment, and then turned the pity to himself. He would soon be in the same situation. Already his elder brother’s boys were almost men and they would no doubt be the first to marry and begin the next generation. He wondered how old Wulfstan and his father could have tolerated watching the next generations grow before their eyes without fearing for their own longevity. He still had so much to accomplish before any of the new cohort of the House of Leofwine could be allowed to roam freely through the complexities of the political situation.
“Come, we should eat and talk of Hedeby,” the queen uttered as they turned to walk back toward the small collection of tents that had been raised to keep the sun from their eyes. He was surprised she still wished to sit outside, especially after his news to her, but perhaps she was pragmatic enough to look beyond his words and see the fruition of her husband’s wishes and dreams in what he had to say.
After all, once Cnut had reconstituted his father’s empire, he’d return to England, and quite possibly stay there. In that moment he doubted that the queen knew anything of Lady Ælfgifu’s plans or even considered what role her husband might have planned for his other children in the future. He was pleased he didn’t need to speak further of her now. Even the queen, despite her more dominant role at court, had suffered through her union with Cnut. And it was evident that she’d suffer even more in the future. He could only hope that he wouldn’t be involved when it finally happened.
Chapter 21
AD1028
Worcester
He might have expected a warmer welcome from his wife, but instead his return home was greeted with a chill he’d almost foreseen, but still it wounded him.
It seemed that his wife was angry with him and it didn’t take long for him to realize that he had the Lady Ælfgifu to thank for his less than delighted homecoming. While he’d been off speaking with the queen, and doing what he must, Ælfgifu had taken it upon herself to visit his wife and lay before her all that he’d told her, making his wife doubly angry. Firstly, that he’d spoken to Ælfgifu before he’d spoken to her, and secondly, and perhaps worst, that he’d not listened to her initial advice and had rebuffed Ælfgifu when she’d first visited their home.
Leofric, tired and frustrated both, instead took delight in seeing his son once more. When Ælfgar had been a small boy he’d sometimes wondered at the changes that seemed to take place whenever he left him for barely a day, let alone for weeks at a time. In recent years his son’s growth and changes had slowed, but now it seemed as though he returned to a different child.
His son was growing taller, not slowly and not quickly, but in the spate of the last month he was sure he’d grown nearly half a foot and his face was beginning to elongate as well. He was still to grow into the stature he’d obtain as a man and he was slight and far too skinny,
and yet Leofric could already see the man he’d become within a few years. And his son was keen to see him as well, surrounded as he was by his older cousins, those two lads already beginning to build muscle and grow facial hair.
Yes, seeing the physical embodiment of the next generation, made Leofric despair for what he’d now be able to accomplish to ensure they were able to progress within their society. But he cast his thoughts aside, and instead summoned his wife, nephews, his son and of course his brothers and Olaf to speak with them about all he’d learn. At his feet a collection of his family’s hounds stirred and sought his attention and he thought longingly of Beauty, who’d sadly died during his trip to Trondheim. He needed to take the time to bond with a new hound, but he was loath to begin the process when he was so often gone from home.
Yet, if it was something that he wanted, he’d have to make time to do it, just as he would need to make the time to ensure his new standard adorned his clothing and his home. Even now the gifted sword from Olaf Tryggvason was very much a secret. He needed to right that wrong. He’d taken it to visit his father’s grave, regale him with all he’d learnt during his very short stay in Trondheim, but it wasn’t enough and he knew it.
The conversation was conducted without the need for secrecy because it seemed his entire household knew of Ælfgifu’s visit. It didn’t begin well as his wife was so furious with him.
“If you’d done as Ælfgifu commanded when she first visited, no doubt the king would have rewarded you by now,” she spat angrily, surprising them all with her fury. He’d fallen in love with her, and married her, and yet in the intervening years, their relationship hadn’t always been the same that his father had enjoyed with his mother. He was sad about that, while understanding her anger and frustration. He shared it and yet could feel his father’s calming influence making him less liable to a fuming outburst, unlike his wife.
“It would have little mattered,” he tried to sooth but knew before he even spoke the words that she’d be unwilling to listen to his attempts at reason. She appeared almost immune to the fact that Cnut hadn’t been in England for a long time and that he needed to be seen to be ruling her before he made decisions about his earls and his sheriffs.
“Oh and I assume it will little matter now,” she spat scathingly as their son watched her with his mouth wide open in surprise. Leofric felt his anger swell. Why must she speak so critically of him in front of everyone?
“What matters now is that we’re seen to be supportive of both of the king’s wives without favoring one over the other.”
Even that enraged her.
“We can’t juggle his wives as though they’re balls in the air,” she muttered and Leofric was pleased when his brother spoke for him.
“But that’s what the king’s asked Leofric to do,” Godwine said, watching her with narrowed eyes. Leofric suddenly thought that the two were perhaps not very good allies. Had there been discord between them while he’d been away? He might ask his brother rather than his wife, especially in her current mood.
“When does the king expect to return?” Olaf asked into the heavy silence, and Leofric looked at him, seeing hope and exhaustion on his face. He’d missed his brother greatly since the Battle of Helgeå but had come to terms with his loss and had clearly been hoping for his return ever since Leofric had sent word that he might yet live and that he was going to search for him.
“I don’t know,” Leofric offered. He wished he could say more. “The king, well, the king’s sister advised against me demanding to escort him. She said that I should allow the king to do this for me, and I felt I had to agree with her. In the meantime, she has let it be known who he is, it seems that this man might have no memory and that might explains why he’s not come home, and if he returns to Hedeby, she’ll hear about it.”
Olaf’s eyes were troubled, but Leofric held his hand up to him.
“No you can’t,” he said, his put as much sympathy in his voice as he could muster while at the same time denying him his wish. If he couldn’t go to find Orkning, then he didn’t see how he could allow Olaf to go. Olaf looked as though he was about to disagree but then his shoulders sagged and Leofric reached out and touched his friend on the shoulder, giving him his understanding and support in that just one touch.
“If the king fails, then we’ll reach out to the church in Trondheim, ask them to look for your brother. I will not stop looking until we find him, or the man who looks so like him that others think he’s Orkning.”
Still, the concern for Orkning wasn’t enough to distract Godgifu from her complaints and worries for the future.
“I will go and speak with the Lady Ælfgifu,” she announced, as though the matter were already decided and Leofric felt a wave of annoyance toward his wife.
“You’ll do nothing until we’ve discussed it,” he snapped and was rewarded by an even more heated glare from his wife. He was dismayed that she was keen to win Ælfgifu’s support without considering what the king had actually said.
“We work for the good of our family, not each other,” he continued and he saw her take a deep breath to reply and he allowed her to.
“You’ve already said that the king wishes us to befriend Ælfgifu, why should I not do what I’ve wanted to do ever since she first came to me?”
“She came to me, not to you?” he felt tired all of a sudden, tired of other people trying to tell him what to do, and worse, tired of pretending that he was alright when he wasn’t. He wanted Orkning home and if that happened, he might be able to think straight. More than anything he wanted to see some support on his wife’s face, but feared he never would.
Yet, he did hear some much needed words of support.
“I’ve met all of the king’s sons,” his own son finally said. “I prefer Harthacnut, mother, I can’t deny it. He’s aware of who he is, but he doesn’t make a fuss about it. Ælfgifu’s sons are nothing but bullies.”
Leofric was watching his son with interest, deciding it was better to do so than to meet his wife’s face. He was sure that she’d be outraged, as he was, thinking of when his son had first met Swein and Harald. They’d not treated Ælfgar with any deference for his slighter build. It seemed that Ælfgar hadn’t forgotten.
He also watched his nephews bristle with unease. They’d not been there when Swein and Harald had visited, and he thought that they would have preferred to be. Olaf was lost in a haze of his own memories but Leofric felt a great wave of nausea flow over him. It was his son and his nephew who’d have to deal with Cnut’s sons. It would be wise to listen to them, and perhaps try and allow them to view the situation with the same sort of detachment that he was trying for.
“I think the boys all have much to accomplish before they can be considered men,” he tried to offer and was greeted with a faint trace of unease in his son’s eyes. He wasn’t trying to undermine his thoughts, far from it in fact.
“It was Harthacnut who treated you as an equal and who convinced me to allow you to train with the men of the household. He’s already a powerful individual, both physically and in the eyes of the people of Denmark and England. Harald and Swein only have their physical prowess at the moment. In time, I hope they’ll learn to be as wise as their father.”
He hoped the words were well reasoned enough. He didn’t want to belittle his son’s feelings, or take too harshly against Harthacnut and Emma, although it seemed his wife wished to. Neither did he wish to think that Cnut’s other sons were beyond change. Hopefully, when their father returned, if he returned he rephrased, the boys would be given the sort of parenting they so desperately needed.
Yet, Godgifu was perhaps right to demand action now. Who knew when Cnut would actually return?
“You can be friendly with Lady Ælfgifu,” he offered, weighing the words in his mouth as he did so. “But not here. You must seek her out in Northampton. I don’t wish the queen to hear word of her visiting our home here.”
He looked to the others, seeing if they agreed with
him and Godwine nodded slowly.
“Yes, we should continue as we’ve been doing. Friendly to both women, but perhaps with more warmth toward Ælfgifu than we’ve shown her yet, but not enough that the queen will be offended.”
He looked quizzical as he spoke, as though he too wondered at the possibility of such a thing.
“The queen will withdraw all of her patronage as soon as she learns that you’ve opened negotiations with Ælfgifu. It serves no purpose to be less than fully committed when I speak with Ælfgifu.” Godgifu was right in her appraisal of the situation and yet it sat uneasily with Leofric.
“There’s no need to inflame the queen. We can leave that for Cnut. We are simply to be seen as friendly with her, nothing more, just as the queen is friendly with Cnut’s allies throughout the southern kingdoms, as she is with bloody Earl Godwine. There’s no need to throw the weight of our support just behind Ælfgifu’s boys. It will deny us of our impartiality. Surely you can see that?” he spoke plaintively to his wife, hoping she’d see reason, but she still seethed, although she held her tongue. He could tell that she breathed a little too fast as her face flushed at his words.
“I’ll do what I’m commanded to do,” she offered icily, and stood to walk away. Leofric watched her go, anxiously. It seemed that he could have difficulty maintaining equanimity in his own house, and he felt a moment of sympathy with his king before he banished it. The king had chosen to marry twice and father sons on two women. He’d chosen to marry for love. He wondered who was the bigger fool?
His son didn’t watch his mother, and that surprised Leofric. He’d thought they were closer than he and his son were, but perhaps not.
Olaf spoke once more,
“Your family has always trodden a dangerous middle ground. It would seem that now we must all do the same, once more. It seems that there is never to be the sort of peace we would hope for.” He sounded tired and hollow, and Leofric truly looked at him. His friend was sunken. He must feel as though he’d lost one person after another in a never ending spate since he’d become a man; Wulfstan, his father, Northman, Leofric’s mother and then his father, and then Orkning, or probably Orkning. Leofric could understand his resignation and fatigue at having to function normally when it felt as though his world was tumbling down around him. Even the loss of Thorkell and Erik had stricken Olaf. These were the names of men that they’d all grown up with and had all revered in one way or another.