Peaceweaver

by Judith Arnopp

  He pressed his lips together and scowled.

  ‘She isn’t my wife, we were handfasted twenty years since. Eadgytha is a good woman and has given me many happy years and some fine sons. I’d not abandon her but she’s not the sort I’d wed; I need a gently born wife. One who can climb to the heights with me, who will grab at life with both hands and, if we go under, then will come up with me again, fighting. I say you are that woman, Eadgyth, say you will have me.’

  Harold was the greatest warrior and the richest, most handsome, Earl in the kingdom and I could hardly believe that he wanted me. People said he was richer than Edward himself but, rich and handsome as he was, he still remained infuriatingly arrogant.

  ‘I don’t wish to remarry,’ I said, folding my arms and turning away from him, ‘I have found that marriage does not suit me.’

  He got up and stood looking down at me, his arms folded across his broad chest and his blond hair whipping about his head.

  ‘That,’ he said, ‘is because you were wed to an old man. I am in my prime. I am virile. I can give you more sons, Eadgyth and, the moot point is… I can give you bed pleasures that you can not begin to imagine.’

  His face, suddenly suffused with desire, brought unbidden memories of Rhodri to my mind and my stomach twisted as I thought of sharing similar ecstasies with Harold.

  ‘My brothers will not let you wed with me,’ I said almost sulkily.

  He put his hands on my shoulders, massaging and rubbing with his fingers.

  ‘Rubbish. Your brothers are two of the most, ambitious, self-seeking churls I have ever met. The notion of their sister wedding the richest, most powerful Lord beneath the king will have the deal done and you wedded and bedded before the next cock crow. Think of it, Eadgyth,’ he said, his tone suffused with lust, ‘waking up with me beside you in your bed. I promise you, with me ploughing your furrow you’ll have no cause for complaint ...’

  ‘Stop it.’ I cried, beating his chest with my fists, ‘you are a monster.’ All men are the same I thought as I twisted in his grip, trying to break away. All they want is to possess women, with no regard for their feelings. Held fast in his grip, I could not move though I kicked and punched at him. He relished the wrestling match until I grew weary and relaxed in his arms.

  ‘Have you finished?’ he asked and pulled me closer, covering my mouth with his, his tongue,hot and sinuous, on mine own.

  My anger lasted until the third week after his departure for Normandy. He had bid me good-ye-bye cheerily, as though nothing had passed between us. I had turned haughtily on my heel and marched back into the hall without so much as a fare ye well.

  But, once he had gone, taking most of the household men with him, the place seemed deathly quiet and the afternoons long. Used to his sudden arrival brightening an otherwise dreary day, my world descended once more into boredom.

  He hadn’t repeated his proposal and I began to question the sincerity of it. Although I tried I could not forget the sensation of his mouth on mine and the strength of his body pressed against me.

  I tried to convince myself that I would as soon wed a tinker as my Lord of Wessex, but he was always the last thing on my mind at night and my first thought in the morning.

  Sometimes, I walked to the ocean’s edge with Anwen and the children. The choppy south coast seas sparkled more merrily than any I had seen before and I would stare across to the dazzling horizon, wondering when his ship would bring him home.

  On one such a morning, as we lingered, picking up odd shells and fancy stones from the beach a messenger came to tell me that visitors awaited me at the hall. I left the children in Anwen’s care and hastened back, wondering who had called.

  After the brightness of the late summer sunshine the hall was dark and, although both men turned at my footstep on the stone floor, I could not discern their identity.

  The shadowy figures approached and, as my eyes adjusted to the gloom, I saw that they were dressed in the finest cloth and bejewelled with the richest stones. Swords clanked in unison as they strode toward me and, as they drew close, I realised with a start that the Earls of Mercia and of East Anglia had come to call.

  I had not seen my brothers since our shared exile so many years ago and glimpsing their familiar faces beneath their thick beards and fine apparel, I suppressed a sudden impulse to embrace them.

  ‘Eadgyth.’ Morcar exclaimed, taking my hand and bowing over it, ‘Still fat then?’ he winked. As he returned to a standing position I bowed my head.

  ‘And I see that you, for all your finery and big boy’s weapons, are still a child, Morcar.’

  Edwin, ever the more amiable, took my hand next.

  ‘We haven’t come to quarrel, Sister,’ he said, ‘and, in truth, whether our brother cares to admit it or not, you are indeed grown into a fine woman. She has a look of Mother don’t you think, Morcar?’

  ‘Hmmm,’ Morcar replied and I bowed my head again, playing the role of a gracious lady for all I was worth.

  ‘Thank you and you both look every inch the Earl. What brings you all this way to Bosham, I should have thought you would wait to greet me on my return to court.’

  ‘We were eager to reacquaint ourselves with you, of course, and we wanted to speak to you privately before Wessex returned …’ began Edwin but Morcar interrupted him.

  ‘We were with Wessex in Bristol the night before he left and he told us about his proposal.’

  ‘God’s grief, Morcar. Can you not be more circumspect?’ Edwin interjected, ‘Let me do the talking, you will do nothing but antagonise her and, remembering her temper, she will explode and we will all fall out. It is vital that we work together in this …as a family.’

  Placing his arm about my shoulder he propelled me about the chamber.

  ‘The thing is, Eadgyth, Harold said you are reluctant to commit yourself until you have sought our approval …’

  ‘He said what?’ I exploded, just as Edwin had said I would, ‘Good Lord but that man is arrogant. I but used your names as an excuse, I have no wish to remarry and told him so straight but he would have none of it, so I said you would not allow it. Do not think for one minute that I give a hoot for your opinions, either of you.’

  Morcar turned at my words, with a ready retort at his lips, but Edwin raised a warning finger at him and he subsided, snorting futilely before turning to look from the window, his arms folded and his jaw set.

  ‘Eadgyth, Eadgyth, Eadgyth, think what it is you refuse. Harold is rich, rich beyond your dreams. He has more holdings and gold than your brother and I put together. He is richer than the king for heaven’s sake. And I’m told women find him irresistible.’

  ‘I care not for riches and I have had my fill of men. I am welcome at Edith’s court and will make my life there, in her service.’

  Edwin puffed out his cheeks and glanced at Morcar who continued to fight his rage by the window.

  ‘Edward is sick, how much longer do you think he will live, Eadgyth? And then the queen will, no doubt, go into retirement. How will you like that, a former queen, still in the full flush of youth, living away from the court, away from the centre of things, away from your sons?’

  I turned to face them again.

  ‘What mean you the king is sick? He is sickly but not unto death when I saw him last.’

  Morcar sat himself on Harold’s chair, watching as Edwin continued to tempt me.

  ‘He is ailing and old, Eadgyth and his days at an end. The witan is ever cajoling him to name his successor but he prevaricates. All men know that the Ætheling is not fit to rule and England will be vulnerable to any who wish to take her. If we wish to bar the door to Hardrada or Swegen Estrithson or William the bastard, then we need to stand firm behind the one man who is fit to lead us and the witan agree with us that there is only one man.’

  Suspicion stirred in my mind and I looked from Morcar and Edwin and back again.

  ‘Which man?’ I asked, although I already knew the answer.

 
‘Harold.’ cried Morcar, coming to stand before me, ‘Did you think he wanted you for your charms alone, Eadgyth? My word, you may be a fine looking woman, but it is our support he truly seeks, the possession of your luscious body will be but a bonus. Without our armies at his back he will not have the agreement of the witenagemot and England will fall to a foreigner. Think of it, Eadgyth, a son of yours and Harold’s one day becoming the king of England, supporting his brother’s claim in Wales, both nations united under the dynasty of Mercia. You must look to your duty, Eadgyth, and marry Harold, for the good of your family and for the good of England.’

  My anger and my dignity was piqued, thinking of Harold’s pretended desire for me. How could I have fallen for such carefully constructed passion? I was loath to concede to their wishes but, in truth, I wanted him for the man he was, not for his riches or his power or his potential to become the next king but for his virile manhood. It hurt like a lash that my family connections were the only charms I held for him.

  If I accepted his proposal he would think his wiles had worked and see me as a gullible fool but, if I refused, I would be denying myself the man I had come to desire more than any other. Swirling round to face my brothers I shrugged my shoulders.

  ‘I will think on it,’ I said, trying to gain myself some time to think. ‘I can make no promises now.’

  Morcar exploded into rage. ‘There is nothing to think on, Eadgyth, you have to do it. You must think of England, not of yourself…’

  ‘Think of England? Like I was forced to think of Mercia when I was married off to Gruffydd? Don’t you think I have sacrificed myself enough for one lifetime? God’s teeth, you can have no idea how I suffered at the hands of that man. Not one of you gave a thought to how I would be treated, not one of you considered how I felt and I will not do it again, not for you, not for England and certainly not for Harold.’

  Edwin scowled at Morcar, warning him to keep quiet and, ever the diplomat, assumed a soothing approach.

  ‘Hush, hush, Eadgyth,’ he said, stepping forward and stroking my shoulder, ‘Morcar and I were but infants when Father formed the Welsh alliance; you cannot blame us for that. There is no need for a decision now and surely some calm consideration will bring you to our point of view. Harold is a good man, you know that or you would not be lodging in his house. Did he not mount a rescue and go back into Snowdonia to redeem your children for you? No man would do that did he not have your interests at heart. Think on it for a few days, Eadgyth, we will come again and surely we will reach a decision before he returns from his mission.

  I thought of nothing else for the next few weeks, Harold showed no signs of returning and sent no missives or instructions to Bosham. As the weeks stretched to months, the memory of our brief passion faded and I began to wonder if I had dreamed the whole episode. Try as I might, I could not collate the picture of Harold I bore in my memory, the desperate, lovelorn Harold, with the predatory figure of whom my brothers spoke; a man who sought my hand only to advance his ambitious pretensions to the throne.

  Growing restless alone at Bosham, I decided to return to court which now resided close to London on Thorney Island. The journey was not an arduous one and, once I had made up my mind, the bags were packed and we were on our way within a few days.

  I had never been to the king’s palace at Thorney before and was surprised to find it a substantial dwelling and noted with appreciation the modern improvements that Edward had implemented. The older shabbier buildings put up by King Cnut were used by lesser folk now although work had not finished on the new. The sound of hammer and chisel could be heard coming from the direction of the church and I knew that this must be the new foundation that the king was so proud of. From the size and splendour of the unfinished building, it was easy to see why.

  I found Edward and Edith in the hall pouring over religious relics. The ladies and gentlemen of the household had withdrawn to the perimeters of the room, leaving the royal couple in the company of a clergyman who was displaying for their appreciation an old-fashioned girdle.

  ‘They do say Sire, that the girdle, if worn by one worthy of it, will ward off the pangs of childbirth …’

  His patter ceased and they all looked up as I entered and made my curtsey.

  ‘Eadgyth. How delightful to see you.’ cried the queen, rising from her chair and drawing me into their circle. ‘We have missed you so, haven’t we Edward? And how are your sons, Lady? Recovered from their unfortunate adventure?’

  ‘They are quite well now, Madam, yes. I thank you for asking. It was good of Earl Harold to let us remain at his manor for so long but I feel we have trespassed upon his hospitality quite enough and I had a hankering to return to your service. That is, if you still require it Madam.’

  The queen squeezed my arm. ‘Of course I do. I have missed your company intolerably, haven’t I, Edward? We both have. Tell me what news have you of Harold? We had thought to see his return long since.’

  Hating myself for the colour that flooded into my cheeks, I shrugged my shoulders.

  ‘I have heard nothing, Madam. I would presume his tardiness in returning is due to the extravagant hospitality of the Norman court, I’ve heard that the hunting is outstanding and you know what Harold is for the chase.’

  ‘Oh yes, you are right, Lady.’ chimed in the king, ‘I lived as a youth in Normandy and the hunting was the best I have ever known. They have deer such as we have never seen here. How I miss it but, now, I’m forced to remain indoors for much of the day so apt am I to take a chill.’

  He coughed as if to demonstrate his lack of vigour and I looked on sympathetically while Edith patted his back and beckoned to the apothecary to bring the king his remedy. I wondered how ill he really was and how much of it imagined; my brothers swore he was on the point of death but I saw little evidence of it and thought that he could continue in a similar vein for years yet.

  ‘I saw the building work is progressing on your church, Sire,’ I said to distract him from his coughing.

  ‘It’s looking magnificent is it not, Lady,’ he responded. ‘Later, we must all stroll about the works so that you can view it properly. It will be an abbey fit for kings by the time it is finished. I plan to be interred there myself you know, and mayhap other kings will follow, who knows?’

  Queen Edith looked startled.

  ‘That ill day is many years hence, my dear. Ooh, Tostig darling. Do you know the Lady Eadgyth, widow of the late Welsh king? Eadgyth, this is my younger brother, Tostig, I expect you have heard much of him.’

  I looked down at the head of blond waves as he bowed over my hand and, when he stood up, found myself staring into a pair of blue eyes that were the exact matching shade of his brother Harold’s.

  ‘Charmed, Lady,’ he drawled, without a vestige of interest and I realised that the family resemblance was only skin deep. His hands, beard and clothing was so immaculate that I felt drab in his presence.

  ‘How d’ ye do, Tostig?’ asked the king, patting the seat beside him. Tostig flounced across the dais and sat himself down without ceremony, immediately launching into a discussion about the hopeless task he faced in ruling the heathens in his charge north of the Humber.

  ‘They are impossible, Sire,’ he complained, ‘they take umbrage at the taxes. When I intervene in their incessant feuds they call it interfering. How I wish I could be in Harold’s shoes, he never has trouble extracting the dues owed to him in his lands.’

  ‘Wessex can afford their rents, Tostig, that’s the difference,’ the queen interceded before Edward had the chance. ‘You can’t expect people who are impoverished by circumstance to fill your coffers without complaint. Make sure you find a way of persuading them gently or you will have a rebellion to deal with and then we will not be pleased with you at all, will we Edward?’

  ‘No, my Sweet,’ replied the king, smiling up at Tostig, weakly apologetic.

  ‘We were just about to take a stroll about the works,’ he continued, ‘would you like to join
us.’

  Tostig sighed and then, in unconvincing agreement, announced, ‘There is nothing I’d like more, Sire.’

  Rising from his seat he offered the queen his arm, leaving me to accompany the king. Perhaps if I had been subjected to the tour as often as the queen and her brother I should have shared their bored resignation but the newly erected abbey of Thorney Island held me transfixed. Edward’s enthusiasm for his project barely surpassed my own. Unused to stone buildings, this edifice was astounding in its beauty and majesty.

  ‘Oh Sire.’ I cried when I saw it, ‘It is magnificent, truly it is.’

  Tostig raised a sardonic eyebrow and I was struck again by the incongruous resemblance he bore to his overtly masculine brother. He placed his hand on his sister’s shoulder and, as one, we all leaned our heads back to survey the wonder of the edifice.

  The lantern tower soared above us, six storeys high at least and the men who clambered about the scaffolding seemed miniscule from our perspective on the ground. On close inspection it was clear that there was much work still remaining, the completed east end at first appeared to be finished but the skeletal outline of the west end and the north transept stood stark against the sky.

  Raised in Normandy, Edward had looked abroad for inspiration and employed European architects who had earned their expertise working on the grandiose cathedrals of Jumieges and Rouen. Inside, the light that was so spectacular, never had I seen a building that allowed so much exterior sunlight, the light of God, to stream in through windows too numerous to count.

  ‘God must be in this place, Sire. I can feel Him. I swear there can be nowhere on this earth where a person can feel closer to Him.’

  Edward, stooped and sweating slightly from the exertion of the walk, beamed at me.

  ‘You feel it too, Lady? That is delightful. I feel there are those that grow weary of my building and no longer see it as I do. Have you ever heard the special tale of the first church here and how St Peter himself came to consecrate it?’