Peaceweaver

by Judith Arnopp

  Edward and Edith sat with their hands clasped before them in obvious delight at the spoils. Edith clapped in glee,

  ‘Ooh, what else have you, Harold, what more did you bring?’ Her teeth gleamed sharply as her brother smiled a slow smile and nodded his head in satisfaction.

  ‘Oh, I have something to surpass this,’ he said and turned to take a sack from his squire. I paused, half concealed by a tapestry whose sumptuous folds muffled the drafts from the passage. What more has he garnered from my Welsh kin, I thought bitterly and paused to watch as Harold held the sack aloft.

  It bulged alarmingly and, as he swung round to show it to the king, the hessian gave way and the contents fell to the floor and spun across the flagstones. All eyes followed it as it rolled, like a ball, before coming to rest at my feet. Unable to identify it in the half-light, I leaned closer to examine it.

  ‘Eadgyth, NO.’ yelled Harold but he was too late. Unheeding, I rolled the thing over with my foot, it was slippery and mired but it moved quite easily.

  The flickering torchlight leapt suddenly, illuminating the scene and a silent scream rang out in my head as transfixed I looked down upon my husband’s face.

  Wrenching my gaze away, I raised my arms to fend off the terrible sight but I could not shut it out. Though blackened and daubed with straw, the bloodied cheeks and the outraged mouth and distended, petrified tongue were recognisable. Gruffydd had been in a rage when he died. I staggered back, reeling, from the severed head, groping for some solid support.

  Harold strode across the hall, his eyes full of self-reproach. He said something but, although I saw his lips moving, my mind could make no sense of his words. Dazed and stupid, I stood for a moment or two, unaware that the Saxon court stood witness to my humiliation, then the darkness began to gather, creeping like a blessed predator to rob me of consciousness. Blood thundered in my ears, sending me swirling into oblivion and, grateful for the encroaching dark, I plunged into Harold’s waiting arms.

  There are some nightmares from which it is better not to wake, for the realities of this world can be worse, far worse, than the conjurings of an abused mind.

  Several times my eyes opened on the world but I closed them again, unwilling, or unready, to fight it. As I lay in my bed of feathers, swathed to the chin in softness, the words of the poem drummed in my head, bolstering my enfeebled strength.

  ‘Our hearts must grow resolute, our courage more valiant,

  Our spirits must be greater, though our strength grows less.’

  And, after a few days, as if the words wove some wondrous spell, my strength and courage did return. I was able to open my eyes and sit up on my pillows to accept the nourishment that Æthel fed me from a silver spoon.

  My looking glass revealed a face grown pale and eyes encircled with rings of blue. After I had sipped a bowl of thin gruel, Æthel began to sponge my skin and brush the tangles from my hair. It hurt, although she tried to tease out the knots, for in the thrashings of my madness it had become matted and snarled.

  Æthel told me I had been abed a week, oblivious to the regular visits of the king and queen and the almost haunting presence of Earl Harold. ‘He did not leave you for a day and two nights, Lady, but sat and watched you in your nightmare. I fear the Earl is sorely regretting his actions and swears he did not know of your presence in the hall.’

  I sighed, too tired and overwhelmed by events to react.

  ‘It makes little difference, Æthel,’ I said, turning my face to the light that streamed through the small high casement. She stood at the clothes press, her back toward me, her figure a silhouette.

  ‘He wants to see you, Lady.’

  ‘No,’ I replied ‘I do not wish to see him.’

  I lied. I was desperate to see him, I wanted to demand an explanation. I wanted to strike him, to scratch at him, hurt him but, as yet, I was too weak and so I refused him entry.

  Later, in a strange echo of a previous time, I heard him at my chamber door. ‘No,’ Æthel was saying, ‘she will not see you. She is sickened, Lord, and I beg you have patience.’

  I heard him curse roundly and strike the closing door. ‘Well, give her a message then. Tell her that I am sorry, that I need to explain. I must see her as soon as she is recovered enough; it is vital I see her, do you understand?’

  I heard the door close softly and Æthel crept back into the room. She saw me watching her and smiled.

  ‘He is eager, Lady. You will have to admit him soon.’ But, turning my head to the wall, I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep.

  I kept him from me for a further three days but, on the first day that I felt well enough to leave my bed, he burst into the chamber and sent Æthel scuttling to the anti room.

  Hands on hips before me, he bellowed, ‘No more excuses, Madam, you will hear me out. No longer will I be treated like a miscreant child.’

  I surveyed him coldly, refusing to be affected by this overbearing bully. He was monstrous, no kinder, no better than Gruffydd himself.

  I kept my gaze fixed on the wall and, seeing I was not going to relent, he gentled.

  ‘How are you, Lady?’ he asked, coming closer and making to take my hand but I snatched it away and kept my face turned from him.

  ‘I am better, be it no thanks to you,’ I retorted, the words issuing like dagger thrusts.

  ‘Eadgyth, let me explain. Sit here and let us talk properly, before my journey I thought we were becoming friends.’

  I kept my chin up and refused to look him in the eye.

  ‘And so did I … so did I, but I cannot and will not be friends with a man like you.’

  ‘A man like me? What do you mean ‘a man like me?’ I don’t know why you are so angry. You hated Gruffydd. You know you did. Why, you told me yourself. You said you would, if you could, take my sword and strike him down. God’s teeth. There is no understanding women. I had not thought you a hypocrite, Eadgyth.’

  I swirled round and gave him the full force of my feelings, spitting the words.

  ‘Do you not see it is different? I suffered indignation, humiliation and abuse, physical and mental, at that man’s hand, my hatred of him was personal. I may have thought of killing him but I would never have dreamed of disabusing his corpse. How could you have decapitated him and brought his head forth as a trophy for you to show off to your king?’

  ‘A trophy?’ Harold repeated, ‘Eadgyth, it wasn’t me. I didn’t kill him. His own countrymen, fed up with his over-zealous rule, did that. Bleddyn and Rhiwallon and that fellow Cynan ap Iago turned on him and carried out the butchery. It was revenge for years of mistreatment and harsh rule. They brought his head to me as a gesture of peace and asked me to deliver it to Edward. I was but the messenger boy. God’s teeth woman.’

  He was angry now, jumping to his feet and pacing the room as his words began to flow in a torrent. ‘Do you know what I have been through, careering all over that God-forsaken country, up hill and down, pursuing your husband that I may redeem your children for you? I would I had not bothered, I could have sent a man to do the deed for me had I not promised you to do the job myself. God’s truth. I’ve been beside myself these last days, waiting outside your chamber door like a love stricken fool to be allowed entry into your hallowed presence. And all so that I could beg your forgiveness. ‘Tis a different reception from the one I had imagined and that’s no lie. Do you not wish to see your sons, Madam?’

  I raised startled eyes to him.‘What do you mean?’ I whispered.

  ‘I mean, woman, that your sons and their nurse are at my manor in Bosham and I have been awaiting your pleasure for a week or more to take you forth to join them.’

  ‘My God.’ I cried, ‘why did no one tell me? What are we waiting for, Harold, have the horses saddled, we must ride today.’

  I leapt from my chair and began to grab gowns from the clothes press and heap them onto the bed. Harold took me by the shoulder, halting me in my tracks.

  ‘Hush,woman, hush. ‘Tis too late in the
day, we will leave tomorrow as soon as ‘tis light. There will time aplenty for packing and, perhaps you should let your woman do it, I fear there is more to it than shoving a few gowns in a sack, you will look like a hedge drab if you pack like that.’

  I plopped down in my chair again.

  ‘Are they well, Harold? And Anwen and Maude, they are well? …H…Harold, the children didn’t see it did they? The murder, or have knowledge of the grisly trophy you carried all the while?’

  His moustaches lifted as he emitted a sharp breath,

  ‘God’s truth, Lady, but you think me a monster don’t you? I cannot vouch that they do not know of the deed itself but I can assure you they witnessed neither their father’s death nor his ignominious journey here. I have children myself, Lady, and have treated yours as if they were mine own.’

  ‘Edith said you would,’ I murmured.

  ‘Did she?’ he raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, the queen knows me well. Now, if you will excuse me, I have some business of my own to attend.’

  I watched him stand up and make to leave but, before he could move away, I grasped his cloak as it swung out behind him. It was soft, the skin well-cured and I had the impulse to rub my face in it.

  ‘You did not answer my question, Lord, when I asked if they faired well.’

  Turning and taking my hand, he enveloped it in his for a while.

  ‘They are well, Lady, tired and somewhat malnourished but well enough. The young one with the damn silly name, Maredudd; he has a small sniffle. Anwen has guarded them like a wolf from the night Rhuddlan burned and trust me, Lady, that is one wolf no man would care to offend, for, in truth, her teeth are very sharp.’

  Bending over my hand I felt his lips, warm and dry on my inner wrist and then he was gone leaving me staring at the carved wooden vine leaves upon my chamber door.

  A few months later we were all happily installed at Harold’s splendid manor at Bosham in Sussex. Delighted to discover the children and Anwen had come to no real harm I, none the less, insisted that we linger in Harold’s delightful home while they fully replenished their strength.

  Anwen, forgetting decorum when she saw me, dropped what she was doing and flew to me, hugging and smothering my face with kisses. Maredudd and Idwal were no less demonstrative and we all indulged in a shameful display of weeping.

  Harold looked on, one sardonic eyebrow higher than the other, but refrained from passing comment and instead produced gifts for the children.

  He gave a small shield to Idwal’s to partner his wooden sword and a lightweight helmet for Maredudd. The children accepted the gifts politely; overawed by the towering blond giant that had ridden into Wales and borne them away.

  The atmosphere in the chamber relaxed and I realised I felt happy watching the children renew their acquaintance.

  The boys were amazed at how much their sister had grown, for now she could toddle about the floor and scampered after them with no small skill. Soon all three were involved in a game of catch as catch can. Earlier I had thought Idwal seemed strained and worried but now he was laughing, his mouth wide and eyes bright. While they were distracted, I asked Anwen about his health.

  ‘Oh, he has had some broken nights, Lady, but ‘tis no wonder after what we all went through. I shielded them from the worst of it and we all kept as far from Gruffydd as was possible but there was fighting and unrest among the household and many harsh words spoken. The morning Gruffydd was killed we were at the stream, where I took the children daily for a walk. So mercifully we missed the attack but they could not but be aware of the danger. The skirmish was fierce but I kept them from the heat of it, I think. Worst of all was the cold and the hunger, Lady, for the food ran short right soon and, although I gave the boys half of my ration as well as their own, there were still tears about empty bellies. When the Saxons rode into camp, I was that relieved to learn that Earl Harold was your emissary and not the enemy we had thought him to be. ‘Tis young Maude I had most cause to worry for, she took a fever and is not yet ready to quit her sickbed but we think she will recover fully, Lady.’

  I bit my lip, thinking of the feasts I had enjoyed and the luxurious feather bed I had slept in while my children had starved in the snow bound mountains.

  ‘I can never thank you for what you have done for them, Anwen, I am ever in your debt.’

  ‘Oh, Lady, don’t be foolish. They are like my own kin and anyone would have done the same, the poor wee things but… what will we do now you are widowed? Are we to stay here in Bosham or return to Rhuddlan, Lady?’

  Unable to answer, I considered the question for some time, pondering on the fate of widows. I knew of noblewomen who had handed their children over to the king and retired from public life. Taking religious vows may suit some women but I was not yet twenty and unwilling to spend the rest of my days in cloisters. In time I could remarry but my past experience of wedlock made me reluctant to do so. I was unwilling to give up my children too, and thinking of it, I scooped Nest up and hugged her too tightly so that she squawked and tried to squirm away.

  ‘What are you doing to that poor child?’ came Harold’s mocking voice. I released Nest and grimaced up at him, blushing but knowing there was little point in hiding anything from him. He could always see right through me.

  ‘I was wondering what will become of us now. I cannot return to Wales, I know not where or even who my friends are and we cannot stay here, we have put upon your generosity for too long as it is.’

  ‘Nonsense, Woman, you can stay here as long as you need to or, when you are ready, return to court. Edith will be glad to have you back and the children can take lessons with the royal wards. There will be no shortage of playmates, Edward the Ætheling’s children, Edgar, Christina and Margaret are there and Earl Ralf’s boy too.’

  I pictured my sons, the sons of Gruffydd, growing up in a Saxon court becoming more anglicised as the years passed, eventually growing up more Saxon than Welsh and unloved by their countrymen. I didn’t want them exiled from their homeland. Although I dreaded them becoming like their father, I would do all in my power to prevent them from becoming enemies to the land of their birth. I sighed,

  ‘I don’t know, Harold, I cannot decide what is best.’

  ‘Well there is no hurry, Lady, you are all welcome here for as long as you wish. I have to make a journey soon, to Normandy, so you will not be under my feet. Anyway, I came to ask if you would care to walk with me a while, there is an hour or two before supper.’

  Rising from my chair, I took his arm and we left the chamber and stepped outside, the sun dazzling after the dim interior.

  ‘Oh,’ I said, seeing the sunshine, ‘I don’t know why we were huddled indoors, it is such a lovely day. Why are you to travel to Normandy, Harold? Can you tell me or is it on the king’s business?’

  ‘As usual, madam, you are right. The king, at last, sends me to negotiate with William for the release of hostages. My brother, Wulfnoth, and my nephew, Hakon, have been in the Duke’s hands for far too long … more than ten years it must be now.’

  ‘You must be careful, Harold, I have heard William is a violent, unstable man. Do not let your own fiery temper scupper the success of your mission.’

  ‘My fiery temper, Lady? I don’t know what you mean.’ he grinned. I thought for a while before replying.

  ‘Seriously, Harold, they say that William is liable to uncontrollable rages and more than one man has met his death by crossing the Duke’s will.’

  The grassy path ahead grew very wet so, knowing I would not want to soil my slippers, Harold sat down on a mossy wall over looking the small harbour and patted the stones beside him, bidding me sit.

  ‘See that church? They say that in Alfred’s day, when the Vikings came, they stole one of the bells from the church tower and, lashing it to the deck, sailed away with it. Meanwhile, the monks crept back to their plundered church and, when they saw the enemy making for the open sea, they rang the solitary remaining bell. As the peals sounded across
the water, the stolen bell broke loose from its moorings and replied, in a single loud note, before crashing through the ship's hull, so that the bell and the ship and the men all vanished beneath the waves. All men agree that, whenever the bells of Bosham church ring forth, the sunken one still answers from beneath the waves.’

  ‘Ooh,’ I shuddered, thoroughly engrossed in his tale, ‘have you ever heard it?’

  ‘Course I haven’t, woman. Tell me, what is this womanly affection that prompts such concern for my well-being while I am abroad? Can it be that you care what may befall me? Do you perhaps hold some affection for me in your tender heart.’

  My face aflame with humiliation, I looked down at my hands fiddling with the folds of my tunic. Always he must mock me. Sometimes I would like to strike him.

  ‘You have been good to us Harold. I am a foreigner in a strange land and I value your friendship, that is all.’

  ‘Foreigner be buggered.’ he exclaimed, ‘You were born in East Anglia.’

  Bursting out laughing, I shook my head at him.

  ‘You know very well what I mean. I left England when I was still a child, my time in Wales changed me, my nature is more Welsh than Saxon and I sometimes feel misplaced here, like a ship that’s lost its anchor, adrift on a wild unstable sea.’

  ‘Very poetic,’ he grumbled and then, suddenly, seemed to lose his temper without cause. ‘God’s teeth, Woman. Let us be done with all this soft footing around, you know what I want, don’t you? I can no longer be arsed with all this genteel side stepping. I want you for my wife, will you have me or not?’

  Aghast, I leapt from the wall, unable to look him in the eye.

  ‘Where on earth did that come from? I had no idea we were ‘soft-footing’ around each other. I am only just a few weeks widowed for heaven’s sake and then, even if I did think you a suitable match, there is the small matter of your own wife.’