Peaceweaver

by Judith Arnopp

  ‘No, Sire, I don’t believe I have. Will you tell me?’

  Edward cleared his throat.

  ‘I shall try my best, Lady, but I am not a storyteller. Tradition declares that even before Sebert, the first Christian king of the East Saxons, built a church on Thorney, a temple to Apollo and a church founded by King Lucius had occupied this place. Late one night a humble Thames-side fisherman, called Edric I believe, was hailed by a stranger who asked to be ferried across the river to Thorney and back. Edric, having fished all night without success, was eager for a penny and agreed to the request. He rowed the stranger across and, while he lay idle in his boat waiting for his return, he suddenly beheld the windows of the new church spring into life. Sounds of exquisite singing issued from inside, and in the radiance encircling it arose a ladder, stretching up to heaven, upon which angels were ascending and descending. Presently, after many more wonders that I cannot now recall, the stranger who had hired his boat returned and bade Edric cast his nets into the river once more. The fisherman obeyed and was rewarded by a noble haul. Before departing, the stranger told him that he must go to the king and the bishop at the Abbey and gift them one of the salmon he had caught. He must tell them that St. Peter had already consecrated the church on Thorney as his especial property. Furthermore, he must in future give a tithe of all fish he caught to the Abbot of Westminster, and refrain from Sunday fishing for ’tis a sin. Edric did as he was bidden and, when Sebert and Mellitus asked for proof of his tale, was able to show them, within the new building, traces of holy water, crosses on the walls, signs of consecrated oil and the remains of candles used in the miraculous illumination.’

  Edward paused, beaming and pleased with his tale.

  ‘Goodness, Sire, that is a wondrous story, I have never heard the like.’

  My neck ached from looking up for so long but I could not stop gaping at the splendour of the stonework. Even filled as it was with workmen, rubble and dust, it was a place where God would always reside. Edward pointed to the high windows.

  ‘All the windows will be of glass,’ he said, ‘some of them stained to send a myriad of colour onto the congregation and here, above the quire, where the transepts meet will hang a magnificent bell to summon all forth for prayer.’

  With utter sincerity I turned my glowing eyes toward the king.

  ‘God will bless you for this, Sire, with all my heart I thank you for showing it to me.’

  ‘That’s not all, Lady. Look here, this is to be my tomb, where I shall rest in God’s bosom until the judgement.’

  I suppressed a shudder, unsure if it were healthy for a living soul to be so preoccupied with his hereafter.

  ‘It’s a fine tomb, Sire, although I hope many years will pass before you come to have need of it. I’m sure you will enjoy many masses and services here in this place before it is time to lie in it forever.’

  The king took my arm again and we processed further about the nave.

  ‘Ah, you would endow me with everlasting life I know but, we must be practical, I am growing old and I am ailing. I cough at night and wake with the sweats, I know my days draw to an end and it grieves me not. Although, in my youth, I thought myself ill-used, I see now that I have had a blessed life. It is he who follows that must concern me now…’

  ‘Have you named an heir, Sire?’ I asked.

  ‘Nay, Lady,’ he replied, ‘my brother, Edmund, the one they called Ironsides, had a son who would have perhaps have been the man but he sickened and died soon after I called him forth from exile. His son, he they call Edgar the Ætheling, is yet a boy and, I fear, too feeble to bear the harsh demands that are placed upon kings. I had some hopes of Harold continuing to lead and advise him after my death but, I know the witan approves not of child kings and will seek to replace him. It is all in God’s hands but I do not fret too much at that for there are no hands more capable than His.’

  The sun was sinking into the horizon as we made our way back to the royal palace. The hall was filled with the aroma of roasting meat and mulled wine and we parted to prepare ourselves for the evening festivities. Tostig’s chamber lay close to mine and he accompanied me part of the way. He strutted beside me like a peacock, his cloak, suspended from his index finger, tossed over one shoulder.

  ‘Edith tells me that our brother is quite taken with you, Lady, and she has hopes of welcoming you into the family sometime soon. May I say that it is a day I look forward to.’

  ‘The queen is mistaken, Lord. Harold assisted me when I was in distress; that is all. He has been very kind to me but, as you well know, he already has a wife.’

  Tostig picked at his teeth, he looked decidedly bored and I wondered why he continued the conversation.

  ‘Oh Eadgytha. You needn’t worry about her, Harold has long tired of her and, with Edith’s backing, you can win Harold easily. Our queen has no love for the concubine but has formed a rare attachment for you, my dear.’

  Leaving me at my chamber door he sauntered along the corridor giggling to himself. Oh these Godwinsons, I thought as I lifted the latch, they are all impossible.

  Many long months passed before we saw Harold again. No one knew why he tarried so long at the Norman court but the king grew fractious and his family speculative.

  Tostig swore that Harold had formed a romantic attachment and would probably return home with a Norman bride. He cast a sly glance in my direction but I schooled my features to nonchalance and ignored him.

  ‘It is more likely to be the hunting,’ Edith objected, ‘you know Harold, he has never been promiscuous has he? Oh, I know he has that Swanneck woman but, give him his due, he hasn’t strayed from her as far as I know.’

  ‘What is she like, this Eadgytha?’ I could not refrain from asking, ‘I’ve heard she is loyal to Harold and a good mother.’

  ‘Well, she is prolific enough, I suppose, if that counts in her favour,’ said Edith, not bothering to hide her dislike, ‘she is just so vulgar, the way she flaunts herself as though sharing his bed gives her some status. It really is time Harold dispensed with her and took to himself a proper wife.’

  I could feel the slow flush of embarrassment flooding into my cheeks for I knew that I was the ‘proper wife’ she referred to. Just then, the king popped his head around the chamber door.

  ‘Ah, Edith, my dear,’ he interrupted, nodding to the assembled company, ‘just to let you know your mother is here and also your brothers, Gyrth and Leo…’

  ‘Well, come in do, Edward, you are lurking half in, half out the door like a messenger boy. Eadgyth, you haven’t met my mother have you? You will love her, she is a darling.’

  I looked upon this darling as she entered and bobbed a makeshift curtsey to her daughter; she was tall and held herself like a queen. She was clothed in the modest style but the cloth was of the very best quality and her jewellery, although simple, was costly too. Close by her side stood two of her younger sons; the youngest of all, Wulfnoth, still held hostage in Normandy and it was his freedom that Harold hoped to negotiate with the Norman duke. Gyrth, I presumed, was the darker haired of the two; he bowed over his sister’s hand after making his obeisance to the king.

  ‘Mother,’ announced Edith in her clear, high pitched voice, ‘this is Eadgyth, the former wife of the Welsh king, you will have heard Harold singing her praises no doubt.’

  I flushed under the scrutiny of this grand old woman.

  ‘I have indeed. I am charmed, Eadgyth. Tell me, has Harold shown you the same lack in communication as he has his family? We find ourselves sadly at a loss to know what has become of him. He must needs return soon for the witenagemot.’

  Gyrth and Leofwine greeted me and I found myself looking at two younger, slighter versions of their older brother. The strong resemblance that ran through the Godwinson family was remarkable but, this time, there was not the slightest lack of masculinity in either of them.

  ‘There are rumours that William has been on campaign against Conan fitzAlan of Brittany, mayhap H
arold travelled with him; he does like to show off his prowess on the field,’ commented Leofwine. He wore his hair long like his brothers but, whereas they varied in colouring from light blond to brown, Leofwine’s crowning glory was a golden red and his cheeks, that still bore the lingering evidence of freckles, were beginning to sprout a soft beard of the same colour.

  ‘Perhaps,’ he said blushing, in what I later came to realise was his habitual accompaniment to speech, ‘he is having trouble persuading the Duke to release Wulfnoth and Hakon, you know Harold is not one to give up. Mayhap he is staying on to apply pressure, gently persuading the Duke that it is in his own best interest to release our kin.’

  Fleeting memories of Harold’s limited stores of patience made me examine the reaction of his mother and sister and their cynically lifted brows confirmed my instinct to negate this idea.

  ‘Lord, I hope not.’ cried Edith, ‘If I know Harold, his methods of persuasion are usually more heavy handed than William the Bastard will care to submit to. No, I tell you, he is wearing himself ragged careering about the continent after those deer William is so fond of.’

  Edward, impatient at the speculation, interrupted.

  ‘Anyway, Gytha, can I interest you in a turn about the building works? The abbey church comes on apace and I can see the consecration being in place by next year at the latest.’

  The king held his arm out for his mother in law and she bowed her head before taking his proffered elbow and quitting the chamber with him, leaving Edith and I in the company of her sons.

  ‘Well, they will be some time. I’m right glad he did not include us in the invite, if I have to walk about that church once more this month I will scream. Leo, I have some splendid new relics for the altar when it is finished, come I will show them to you. I have a bone of Cuthbert’s arm and a tooth of John the Baptist, cost me a small ransom but they are worth it and will enrich the foundation of any church.’

  Gyrth offered me his arm and we processed after the queen and her brother, leaving the rest of the company to amuse themselves as they may.

  Edith had been educated at the house of Benedictine nuns at Wilton Abbey in Wiltshire. During her estrangement from Edward during Old Godwin’s exile, she had returned there under rather more duress and now, grateful for their care, she wished to repay them for their hospitality. She was keen that her own patronage of Wilton Abbey should not be outdone by her husband’s splendidly proportioned St Peters church, which was fast becoming known as the west minster. At Wilton Edith’s long purse had financed the replacing of the ancient wooden structure with a grander stone one. Various setbacks had hindered the work but the noble building was now ready for consecration and Edith, accordingly, was hunting down relics with which to bless it.

  ‘The queen certainly loves her church,’ I commented to Gyrth, uncertain of what else to say.

  ‘She does, Lady,’ he replied, flushing, ‘and the relics that go with it. Did you know that a fire at Wilton destroyed a vast hoard of religious treasures she had already collected for the dedication and she had perforce to begin her search again?’

  ‘No. I hadn’t heard that. Oh dear, how awful it is when irreplaceable ancient treasures are lost. She must have been distraught.’

  Gyrth poured two cups of wine and handed one to me. I took it, smiling my thanks, and sipped at it, feeling the strong flavour flow down my throat.

  ‘When she visited the Gloucestershire abbeys, we feared for her health for a while, you know. She was collecting relics for Wilton from the abbey at Evesham and, when the shrine was opened for her inspection, as she put in her hand she was suddenly struck blind.’

  ‘Good God.’ I cried, amazed at his story, ‘What happened? How did she regain her sight?’

  Gyrth leaned toward me, conspiratorially lowering his voice,

  ‘I’ve never heard such a fuss in all my life, Lady. The good queen, my sister, screamed like a stuck pig, weeping and wailing and casting herself onto the altar promising St Odulf never to injure the saints again if only they would restore her vision. No one could get close to her for she was quite distraught with fear but, at length, she calmed down so that the abbot could draw near enough to offer a blessing and order that her eyes be bathed. More to the point, he made no move to help her until Edith had sworn to bestow a special pall on the dishonoured shrine; after that she was miraculously cured.’

  The quirky eyebrow, that seemed to be another Godwinson trait, was raised as he watched my amazed reaction.

  ‘What do you think happened, Gyrth, was she truly blinded or was it just a fleeting indisposition?’

  ‘Who knows, Lady,’ he replied, ‘my sister is convinced it was a warning from the saints and she plunders their rest no more but I will say that the shrine benefited quite royally from the incident and my sister learned a terse lesson too.’

  Looking upon his cynical expression as he stood looking across the chamber, his locks flopping over his forehead, I noted how very much like Harold he was, both in thought and manner.

  ‘You suspect some trickery don’t you, Gyrth? Oh, you Godwinsons are such disbelievers. I swear I could take you all for pagans.’

  ‘Oh never that, Lady,’ he whispered, casting about the hall in some alarm, ‘we all believe devoutly in the Christian teachings of the holy church.’

  ‘I know you do, Gyrth, don’t worry; I was but teasing. You are very much like your brother, Harold, you know.’

  Bowing over my hand, he confirmed my comment saying, ‘I shall take that as a compliment, Lady, be that as it was meant or no,’ and together we began to circumvent the hall, the young women smiling adoringly up at my companion as we went.

  The palace was in an uproar at Harold’s return. Dogs barked as his retinue dismounted and milled about the yard and children hovered, eager to join in the excitement. He clumped into the hall and made his perfunctory greeting to his king.

  It was plain he was in an ill temper and I felt piqued that he did not outcome straight to me’ instead of seeking an immediate private audience with Edward. This curious behaviour did nothing to alleviate the speculation at the court and I waited impatiently with the others to hear of his exploits. Edith, her face pinched with indignation at being excluded from the audience, beckoned me to her side.

  ‘Sit here with me, Eadgyth, that you may be among the first to greet him. Pinch your cheeks or something, you looked deuced pale.’

  Dutifully I did as she bid and smoothed the front of my gown before sitting, hands clasped, beside my queen. By the time the two men issued from the king’s chamber, Compline was over and the evening meal well under way. Edith was sprawled in her chair listening to Gyrth strumming on his lute; the rest of the company, relaxed and happy, laughed and talked among themselves.

  When Edward and Harold emerged, silence fell upon the gathering and all eyes were turned to the pair as they took their places at the head of the table. I blushed when Harold’s eyes fell on me and I found myself bathed in his warm greeting.

  ‘Forgive me, Ladies, I had an urgent matter to discuss with the king. Ahhh,’ he said, looking around the hall before bowing to the queen, ‘tis good to be home.’

  ‘Whatever has kept you from us for so long, Harold?’ demanded Edith and I pricked up my ears, eager to hear his excuses too.

  ‘You would not believe the time I have had, Madam. From the moment I disembarked I have been a man cursed by misfortune. We ran into heavy weather the moment we left port and were all but wrecked on the shores of Ponthieu and then I had the bad luck to fall into the incompetent clutches of Count Guy. I received no gentle welcome I can assure you and the fool, refusing to believe who I was, had me thrown into his dungeon.’

  The women gasped and Harold, ever susceptible to female attention, warmed to his subject.

  ‘Eventually Duke William turned up and freed me, more I’m inclined to think, to ensure my gratitude to him than anything else. We returned to his court where he made a great show of us being ‘brothers’ and b
ent over backward trying to flatter and bribe a way into my good books. Although, to be sure, I had no idea why …d’ y’ know, he even offered me his daughter for wife, a tiny scrap of a thing no more than twelve years old. Coh, the nerve of the man.’

  Tostig, who had been sitting on the perimeter of the group now thrust his head forward.

  ‘There ye see, Edith, I said there’d be a woman involved.’ he cried and all the company fell about laughing. Harold looked about in bewilderment,

  ‘Ha, I see I am the victim of some joke. Laugh all you like while you can for my tale grows darker.’

  We all sobered and his eyes rested on mine as he continued.

  ‘There was no woman, although the Duke may think otherwise. I told William I was already betrothed but he would have none of it and declared that, as he had the pope in his pocket, he could guarantee that any previous alliance could be nullified.’

  I felt a chill and instinctively held my hands toward the hearth to warm them.‘The thing with William is that he won’t take no for an answer. I kept on reminding him that we needed to discuss the release of Wulfnoth and Hakon but he prevaricated for weeks until I was well nigh hopping with rage.’

  ‘What of that, Harold, is he going to free them?’ asked Edith. Harold’s eyes flicked to his mother who dropped her swimming eyes to her lap.

  ‘Hakon returned with me and is with his family in Winchester but the Duke hangs on to our brother, Wulfnoth, until such time as I have made good my promise …’

  ‘What promise?’ I cried, shaken out of composure by the terrible suspicion that he was shortly to produce a Norman child bride from his retinue. He reached and took my hand, clasping it between both of his.

  ‘Tis a long story and I could do with a drink. When I arrived, William was readying for some campaign he had been planning to put down Conan of Brittany. In the end I rode with him and William showed himself to be most impressed with what he called my prowess in battle. It was no more than a few skirmishes really, the sort of thing I am involved in all the time, but I felt as though he was assessing me or something, sizing me up as an opponent, judging if it were better to have me as friend or foe.’