Irrepressibly arrogant as the man was, it was difficult to get Harold out of my mind. The treason bubbling beneath the surface of his humour both attracted and repelled me and I wondered just how much of his loyalty lay with the king and how much with himself.
April 1063
The tedium of Edith’s court frustrated me; the days were filled in idleness and I found the company lacked the depth and breadth of those at Rhuddlan. I had made no real friends and Edith’s brittle personality grated upon my nerves. I found myself on edge and having to bite back curt retorts to her insensitive remarks. She was unable to see a situation from any perspective other than her own. If she wished to dance, we all had to join in and if she wished to listen to dreary homilies about the piety of the king, then we all listened.
I found that the poetry of the Saxon court was very different to that of the Welsh. It lacked the wistful longing of the past that I had found so touching in Rhuddlan, the Saxon poets sang of glory not of regret. And, unused as I was, to the segregation of nobility and staff at the royal palace, I made many errors of etiquette.
At Rhuddlan I had enjoyed sitting with the kitchen staff, hearing their tales and joining in their laughter but here it was frowned upon and, on one occasion, Edith even reprimanded me for thanking a slave when she brought me a fresh skein of silks from the store room.
I missed Anwen. As pleasant a girl as Æthel was, she could not begin to replace my lifelong companion and I fretted for her safety and prayed God to send her the strength she needed to care for and protect my boys. Goodness knows what perils beset them and Idwal’s strained face continually floated before my mind. I knew they would worry for me for they had no way of knowing my fate and in all likelihood thought me dead.
Agitation and boredom made me snappy and I longed for the day that Harold would ride forth to bring the children safe home. It did not occur to me then that Edward and Harold may have ulterior motives for rescuing the boys and that, in securing Gruffydd’s heirs they served, not just my maternal longing but, national security.
It was late April before the men were ready to ride out and I rose early that morning and prepared to see them off.
Some mornings are unsurpassable in their beauty and the day of Harold’s departure was one such. The sky was so brittle I felt that, if it were possible to cast a stone high enough, the blue would shatter and fall about my feet in shards.
Birds sang and the lambs in the pasture leapt and twitched their tails in pleasure of being alive. Outside the llys, serfs tilled the soil ready for the new growing season and the women stood about in groups by the gates, ostensibly to take washing to the river, but in truth, enjoying the feel of the sun on their faces after the long harsh winter months.
It was early. I had my kerchief tucked at my bodice the better to wave the men off to war and the breeze whipped and snapped at my veil as I watched the chaotic scene from the steps of the royal hall.
Harold’s fighting men of Wessex prepared to ride to Bristol from whence they planned to sail around the coast to attack Gruffydd from the West. Tostig and his armies would ride across the border from Chester to attack the Welsh on land.
The previous evening Harold has spoken of his intention to target Anglesey at the north-western tip of the country. I knew that Angelsey, or Mon as the Welsh called it, was the granary of Wales, the place where the best grain was grown. I was uneasy although I knew the strategic importance of hitting the enemy where they would suffer soonest. In hitting Anglesey they effectively severed the Welsh food supply, by starving the enemy their defences would weaken and the war be won the quicker. I could not but think of the innocents who would starve, my friends that would suffer and the children and old folk that would sicken and die.
I wished there were an easier way, a way to target Gruffydd alone, extricate Anwen and the children and come to some accord with the remaining Welsh princes. I had no love of war, I wanted peace and was still naïve enough to believe it were obtainable.
Biting my lips sore with anxiety, I hopped from foot to foot, eager for Harold to emerge from his quarters that I might speak to him before he left. His horse stood waiting. Harold’s groom, with the hunting dogs prowling about his feet and his master’s hawk on his wrist was also waiting, far more patiently than I. Horses and supply wagons filled the palace yard and began to slowly progress toward the burgh gate. Then men, dressed for battle, mounted their steeds and moved in unison through the gate.
‘Where is he? Where is he?’ The refrain that beat in my head and then … I saw him, emerging from a lodging across the courtyard. A woman was with him and I knew by her bearing and grace that she must be his concubine, Eadgytha of the swan neck.
She did not look especially beautiful, certainly not as fair as the gossips implied. To my eighteen years she appeared rather old and worn looking, more like an old duck than a swan. As I watched, my suspicions were confirmed and I saw him hold her close to him for a heartbeat and plant a kiss upon her forehead.
He strode away toward his horse but, at the last moment, he caught sight of me and, instead of mounting, he crossed the busy enclosure to bend over my hand. His lips were warm on my skin and when he stood up his eyes reflected the sky. I felt my insides jolt. ‘My Lord,’ I murmured, wishing he were not so beautiful, ‘I wanted to wish you well in your quest and to bid you have a care.’
‘I am grateful for your blessing, Lady,’ he said, mocking me even at this crucial hour. My mouth was dry and I felt suddenly afraid for him, afraid he would not succeed, afraid he would die and my sons be lost to me. I did not know how to make him understand that it was imperative that he succeed.
Fixing my eyes on the enormous rectangular emerald brooch that fastened his cloak, I whispered,
‘I beg you, bring my sons safe home, Harold.’
Receiving no reply, I eventually raised my eyes to find he was regarding me with his usual teasing, lopsided grin. My stomach lurched so violently that I felt quite sick but, swallowing bile, I summoned what I hoped was a nonchalant smile,
‘God b’ with thee, Lord,’ I said.
‘And with thee, Lady,’ he returned and taking my hand, placed his lips upon it again but, this time, I gasped to feel his tongue snake across my skin. He stood up, arrogant and silently laughing at my indignation. I pursed my lips and scowled at him.
‘I will return, Madam,’ he said and, before mounting his horse, he snatched my kerchief from where it hung at my bodice and inhaled its scent deeply before shoving it into his tunic.
‘For luck,’ he winked and galloped away in pursuit of the other men, leaving me outraged on the steps.
Stamping my foot and giving vent to a growl of rage I turned and swept back into the palace swearing that, once I had my children back safe, I would have nothing more to do with such a man.
For three long months we had no word and everyday at the palace was a nightmare of uncertainty. The queen prattled on, she had engaged herself with the task of compiling a book, praising the virtue and piety of the king, her husband and, at the same time, extolling the virtues of the Godwin family.
Of course, her intention was not to write it herself but she had engaged the services of a monk from the abbey of St. Bertin at St. Omer. I sat with the other women at Edith’s side, embroidering a seat cover while she enthused about her brothers and her wondrous father and the monk silently scratched notes onto his parchment. On and on she went and, sometimes, the room grew so stifling hot and my frayed nerves so raw that I pleaded sickness to escape the confinements of the hall.
Roaming the fields and woods that surrounded the settlement I could breathe. I could lie in the grass and close my eyes against the world and pretend that my life was different. My mind would drift back to my dream of being the wife of a penniless cottager, free from the cares of state. Even a bonded slave had more freedoms than a princess.
After one such afternoon I returned to the palace to find that the queen had been calling for me so, hastily changing from my
muddied tunic into a plain yellow gown, I hurried to her chambers.
‘Eadgyth. There you are.’ she cried when she saw me, ‘I suppose you have been tramping bout the countryside like a hoyden again. I wish you would not go about unattended, there are those that wish us ill you know.’
‘Yes, Madam, I’m sorry but sometimes I feel so closed in that I need to go outside and breathe the open air.’
‘A habit picked up from those heathens over the dyke, no doubt,’ she remarked.
‘Do you hunt, Lady?’ asked a quiet voice and I jumped, for I had not known of the king’s presence. I swept a curtsey before replying,
‘No, Sire, not since I was a child at my father’s house.’
Edward shuffled forward, playing with the ends of his sparse beard.
‘You should try it, Lady, you would like it, there is nothing like the feel of the wind in your face and a strong horse beneath you. In my youth I was ever in the saddle but, of late, the gripes of age prevent me from riding out as often as I wish.’
‘My brothers all love the hunt, Lady,’ interrupted the queen, ‘but, of course, you know that don’t you dear, since Harold in particular is seldom without his bird on his wrist. Ooh, that reminds me, that’s why I sought you out, we have a missive from Harold which I thought you’d like to hear. Come, here it is; you can read it aloud to us, we are not adverse to hearing such good news again.’
I all but snatched the letter from her hand and quickly scanned the single page of Harold’s bold black script before clearing my throat and reading.
Greetings from Harold, Earl and Lord of Wessex to Edward, by the grace of God, King of England and my queen and sister, Edith, wishing you perpetual health in Christ.
This missive must needs be brief but, be assured, the message it conveys is a blessed one. After much harrying of the western coast of Wales, my ships, combined with my noble brother Tostig’s forces that struck from the east, have managed, with intervention of certain of his enemies, to subdue and overcome Gruffydd, heretofore, leader of the Welsh nation.
After laying waste to Anglesey our ships sailed south putting in at various inlets and burning all we found there. With a hold full of hostages we sailed onward ever-parallel to Tostig’s forces, whose movements mirrored our own, we crushed all in our path, showing no mercy until the Welsh, in desperation, rose up against their leader and delivered him from the fastness of Snowdonia into our hands, together with various other members of his household.
Anticipating your royal wishes, my Lord King, I have placed the former lands of Gruffydd in the hands of his half brothers, Bleddyn and Rhiwallon, who have aided us in our quest. These lords have sworn fealty to the Saxon crown and pledged to serve us by both land and water should the need arise. Powys and Gwynedd are subdued and peace promised. I inform you Sire that, my task complete, I am today set upon my return journey.
May your Majesties fare ever well.
Harold
Letting the parchment fall into my lap, I looked agape at the king. ‘He returns.’ I cried, ‘but makes no mention of my sons. He brings forth my husband but leaves my children behind. God’s teeth.’
I leapt to my feet and began to pace the room, Edward picked up the letter from where it had fluttered to the rushes and poked at it with his finger.
‘You mistake him, Lady, see here, where he says ‘together with various other members of his household,’ that must indicate he has the children safe and brings them home with his prisoners. Do not fret, Eadgyth, Harold is not a man to leave a job half done, he will return with the boys or not at all.’
‘That’s very true,’ chimed in Edith, ‘if I know my brother, he will be tucking them in at night himself and telling them stories to ease their journey. He has ever had a taking for young ones, ever since that woman of his started to produce them like a fat mouser dropping kittens.’
Edith pouted, petulantly indulging her dislike of Harold’s mistress. Seeing the king and queen eagerly trying to convince me that my children were safe, for the first time I let myself believe that their show of favour held no ulterior motive.
Edith leaned toward me, a look of insipid sympathy on her face, while Edward, still scratching at his beard, stood similarly expressive beside her.
‘Do you really believe so?’ I cried, tears gathering on my lashes, ‘after so many months of worry, do you really believe Harold has them safe?’
Edward signalled for a boy to bring wine and handed me a cup. I plopped onto a stool and drank deeply while the king stood beside me, patting my shoulder and looking to his queen for help. Uncomfortable with women, Edward made his escape as soon as he could, telling me I could keep the letter if I thought it would bring some comfort. When he had gone Edith beamed at me.
‘Just you wait and see, Eadgyth,’ she gushed, ‘it will all be over soon, Harold will bring your boys home and you will have every cause to be grateful to him won’t you? He is a fine warrior, my brother, very kind and he will care for your boys as if he were their father.’
‘And what of my boy’s father, Madam, what will Harold have Edward do with him?’
Edith shook her head, selecting an apple from the bowl at her side and began to slice it with her pocket-knife.
‘Oh, nothing much I expect. Edward isn’t a great one for handing out death sentences, although Gruffydd deserves it for breaking his treaty and pledge to the Saxon throne. Edward is far too concerned with his soul’s respite to be overly harsh. I dare say he will ignore Harold’s demands to have him killed and have him set in chains and locked away somewhere safe instead. Mind you, prisoners seldom live long, in my experience, it seems the lack of sun and freedom kills a man’s spirit first and then his body perishes soon after. Edward was exiled in his youth you know, lived at the court of Normandy while Cnut was on his throne; he has never forgotten it. Although he was fed and clothed and among friends, he says that exile was worse than death. When he was finally able to come back and claim his rightful crown, he found he missed Normandy, his place of exile, so much that he has filled his court with all his Norman friends. I don’t know, dear, there’s no understanding men, really there isn’t.’
Smiling dutifully at her joke, my mind wandered off, wondering if, even now, my lost family were disembarking at Bristol and whipping up the horses for the ride to the royal court.
I felt for them, they had little Saxon and would find it hard here, harder than I had when I arrived in Wales. The Saxons were far more intolerant of the Welsh than the Welsh were of the Saxons. Even I, for my very proximity to the people of Cymru, were shunned by some at this court. I was fearful, for my boys were such babes and the world so full of peril.
That night, when sleep escaped me, I held Nest close and prayed for her brothers’ safe deliverance. I bargained with God to give up all that I had, if only he would spare me my children. If they were returned safe I would forsake all future happiness.
The king and his court celebrated victory over the old Welsh enemy with a great feast. Wine flowed and music played as the company stuffed themselves with dainties. Awash with wine, the men grew loud, the ladies tittered behind their hands as the crudities grew to such proportion that the saintly king grew shocked. His face pinched and his eyes disapproving, he clapped his hands and called for quiet and then summoned for the minstrel to recite a gentle poem.
The minstrel was from Normandy, foppish and colourful, he strutted to the centre of the hall and stood before the king’s table. Strumming a note on his harp to call the attention of the hall, he began to sing the old lay of Byrhtnoth, Earl of Essex, and the famous battle of Maldon fought some seventy years ago. Although the Saxons had lost that battle, they sang its praises nonetheless, proud of the manner in which the lord had died. The minstrel’s voice, rich and bracing, lifted to the smoky rafters and, in an instant, all were entranced, even I, who was so heartily sick of battle.
"Our hearts must grow resolute, our courage more valiant,
our spirits must be greater,
though our strength grows less.
Here lies our Lord all hewn down, goodly he lies in the dust. A kinsman mourns
that who now from this battle-play thinks to turn away.
I am advanced in years. I do not desire to be taken away, but I by my liege Lord,
by that favourite of men I intend to lie."
The minstrel’s words trailed away and the company sat up as the ornate doors of the hall burst open and Harold strode into the room, armed and muddy and seeming to have stepped straight out of the poem.
Sweeping a low bow, his sword clanking at his hip, his eyes scanned the hall. He looked as healthy as a horse, his face tanned and his hair bleached almost white from his sea voyages. Although I had yearned for his return, I felt suddenly shy and sank back in my chair so that he should not see me in the shadows. He began to speak expansively, gesticulating wildly as he performed to the crowd.
‘Greetings, Sire, Madam. I beg pardon for my muddied state but I came to you straight, bearing gifts for your majesty.’
He gestured to his squires who staggered forward, grunting and sweating, to place their burden at the king’s feet.
‘Ooh, Harold. What is it?’ asked Edith, leaning forward, her jewels twinkling in the torchlight as she clutched at herself in anticipation.
‘Open it and see,’ her brother replied, smirking at the greed kindling in her eye. She motioned impatiently to the squires to unwrap it and, as the layers were peeled away, the company gasped in unison. I too looked upon the offering and my blood turned cold in my veins.
It was something I had seen in better days, proudly set on the front of Gruffydd’s flagship. Plated in gold and richly set with rubies, I had seen it last, cutting through the sea mist, bringing joy to our allies and striking terror in our foes. Gruffydd’s figurehead, that had once borne the pride of the Welsh navy was now, cast low among the rushes of the Saxon court.
It seemed smaller, the fire in its ruby eyes was quenched and its noble expression dishonoured. I wanted desperately to flee for, as much as I hated Gruffydd, it was hard to see the father of my sons and the country I loved so degraded. Slipping from my chair, I began to move around the perimeter of the room.
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