I held up my hand, halting his speech.
‘But, Harold, I don’t know anything about that; who were these men and how could Tostig have had a part in their murder without any repercussions?’
‘Because he is the King’s friend,’ Harold continued, ‘they had some sort of a grievance and went to discuss it with Tostig, apparently at his invitation. They were given hospitality at first but, when they could not reach an amicable agreement, Tostig had a couple of his heavies slip out of concealment and slit their throats.’
I spun round to look at Edwin and then back to Harold.
‘But how could that happen?’ I cried, trying to equate cold-blooded murder with the languid young man that had teased me at court, ‘it can’t be true. Edward would never condone a crime like that.’
Edwin moved to Harold’s side.
‘Edward is a weak man, Eadgyth. He ever takes the route to an easy life, he buries his head and refuses to see what lies before him,’ For once Edwin looked deadly serious, I regarded him for some moments before continuing with my questions.
‘What was their grievance? Surely it could have been sorted out. I can imagine no circumstance that is worth such bloodshed.’
Harold took a mouthful of ale.
‘Tostig imposed an increase on the Northumbrian tax rate, raising both his income and the king’s. So, thegns like Gamldbearn for instance, who owns about sixty carucates, saw his taxes rise from twenty shillings to thirty. Dunstan is expected to pay twenty-four instead of sixteen and Gleniarain nineteen shillings and six instead of thirteen. The demands could not be met and it is these three thegns that are leading the rebellion. ‘Tis no surprise really.’
I could not find it in my heart to blame them, for such demands were extortionate. It was an earl’s duty to protect his thegns in return for their service, not ring the life’s blood from them. Harold had not finished his tale.
‘Then at Westminster, last Christ’s mass, when Gospatrick was killed. You will remember the brawl in the king’s hall? Well, the northerners pointed the finger at Tostig but, again, Edward protected him…’
‘I heard the queen was behind that,’ interjected one of Edwin’s retainers, forgetting that she was Harold’s kin.
‘I’ll have no talk against my sister,’ Harold said, his face white and set, his eyes staring hard into the face of the speaker. ‘Tis treason to speak ill of your queen.’ The fellow backed down, red-faced and edged his way to the back of the crowd and Harold picked up his story where he had left off.
‘Yesterday, Tostig was beseeching the king to call out the fryd but I declared, there and then, I wouldn’t authorise my men to fight and Gyrth and Leo backed me up. Gyrth is usually Tostig’s firm ally but even he could see that civil war must be avoided, we need unity in these troubled times. The thegns …’ he said, with a glance in my direction, ‘are demanding Tostig be stripped of his position and replaced with our Lord Morcar here.’
All heads swivelled to my brother who was paring an apple with his knife; he stopped with the blade halfway to his mouth.
‘Indeed?’ he cried, ‘Ha, these northerners show some sense after all. I’m certain I can accommodate them.’
Gentle laughter broke out among the gathering but Harold quelled it with a raised hand.
‘I can hardly depose my own brother in favour of my brother-in-law, I do have some family loyalty.’
I remembered then how Edwin had spoken to me of Harold’s need to increase his power base and knew that the temptation to support my brother must be great. If Morcar were Earl of Northumbria then, should Edward die, support for Harold’s claim to the throne would be absolute. I wondered if he had overlooked that fact but, by the look in his eye, I could see that he waged an inner battle between loyalty to Tostig and his own, personal ambition.
‘And what does the king ask you to do?’ asked Edwin, who stood with a hand on Gunnor’s neck, one finger stroking her bare skin where it disappeared into her tunic.
‘I am to ride north and try to make peace between them. They are heading for Oxford and the king and Tostig are at Salisbury. I can’t let them get their hands on Tostig or they will rip him limb from limb and then war will be inevitable and my mother would never forgive me.’
Managing to smile at his feeble joke, I caught Morcar’s eye. He looked petulant, like a child that has been offered a sweetmeat only to have it snatched away again.
‘When do you leave, Harold? I will ride with you if I may?’ asked Edwin, releasing his grip on Gunnor and signalling to his huscarls to make ready. Harold raised his voice above the hubbub made by the scraping of stools as the men drained their cups and prepared to leave.
‘As soon as we can make ready, brother, but ‘tis a peaceful mission so only bring your household militia. Eadgyth, I am so sorry our plans are altered, I will endeavour to sort out this disarray as soon, and as peacefully, as I can and return to you unharmed.’
He kissed the top of my bowed head and strode off across the hall, calling for his master of horse. I felt bereft, my high hopes for feasting and festivity dashed by the onset of war. They would leave at first light.
Later that evening Anwen was braiding my hair when the chamber door flew open and Harold roared in.
‘Did you know what was afoot madam and think to keep it from me?’
‘What?’ I stammered, trying to hide my modesty behind a bed curtain, ‘I have no idea what you are talking about.’ I yelled, my anger matching his own. He stalked toward me, the air he disturbed lifting his long hair from his shoulders.
‘Your brother, Madam. Morcar has ridden out to join the rebels. By God, I should have kept my mouth shut, I even told him where they were mustering. He will have himself at the head of the dissenting army in no time at all.’
I relaxed. ‘Why would I know of Morcar’s plans, Harold? I am not in his confidence.’
Dropping the curtain, I moved to the table and, pouring two cups of wine, handed him one. Harold took it and smiled wryly as his body relaxed.
‘I’m sorry, Eadgyth, I am so on edge I would no doubt yell at the Pope were he here. You are right to be angry. I am just so damned annoyed that our week has been spoiled.’
He sipped at his drink, watching me above the rim of the cup. Slowly his expression changed and the first twinklings of lust crept into his eye.
‘Did you know, Madam, that the light from the brazier makes that nightrail quite transparent.’
I tried to slip back behind the curtain but he caught my wrist and pulled me onto his knee.
‘Good God,’ he cried, ‘tisn’t as if it’s the first time I’ve seen you in your nightgown. Didn’t we ride back from Wales with you similarly clad and, all the way, my cock nudging you in the back like a battering ram?’ His big laugh rang out as I struggled to get up.
‘Harold. You are outrageous.’ But he was nuzzling at my neck and I could not maintain my displeasure; just as the attention was chasing away the last of my resistance, Anwen came back into the room.
‘Lady!’ she exclaimed, and Harold hastily ceased his attentions.
‘It’s alright, Anwen, don’t worry, I must away,’ he said, getting up suddenly so that I had to stumble to find my feet. ‘I will be back to finish what we just started when I have sorted out your damned brother.’
And, with a lingering kiss for me and a brisk salute for Anwen, he quit the chamber.
Northampton
Our cavalcade wove its way through the Oxfordshire countryside toward Salisbury where Edward held court. Far off in the distance, pluming smoke betrayed the path of the rebel army who had lain waste to much of Northampton. We passed burned-out holdings and settlements devoid of life. I wondered where the people had fled to. As I followed the cavalcade I pondered the tragedies of the poor that are never realised by earldormen and kings; warbands ride across country, destroying crops and burning farmsteads without considering the monumental cost to the peasants. Famine and death would be inevitable now.
&nb
sp; I had no idea of Harold’s whereabouts but I harboured hopes that he might be found closeted with the king when we reached Britford, close by the abbey of Wilton. Word had reached us that Morcar had joined with the rebels and agreed to become their earl. Tostig stood not a chance against the huge united armies of the north and Edwin was applying pressure to convince Harold that Morcar would make the better lord of the north. He had no real choice but to agree for Tostig had treated his people badly. Now all that remained was for Harold to persuade King Edward to that fact.
My lower back and buttocks were sore of the saddle when at last we rode into the royal lodge. I slid gratefully from the saddle as a boy appeared from nowhere and came running to take my horse. The children were tired from the journey so Anwen took them straight to the royal nursery where they would lodge with the royal wards. I entered the hall, brushing the dust of the road from my cloak and all but collided with the queen.
‘Eadgyth.’ she wailed, ‘You must persuade him, he will listen to you. Harold is refusing to take Tostig’s side in this stupid rebellion and the two of them have been fighting and saying unforgivable things. Edward is distraught. Come, come with me, they are within; you must stop them before ‘tis too late.’
Voices were issuing from the council chamber and, without knocking, she thrust open the door and we were both inside. Tostig was empurpled, leaning forward across the table jabbing his finger beneath Edward’s nose. He paused and all three men looked up as we entered.
Harold was pale, his face set as he attempted to control ungovernable anger. The king looked as if he was going to weep.
‘There, Harold,’ cried the queen, ‘Eadgyth is here to talk some sense to you. Tell him, Eadgyth, family comes first, he must support his brother.’
She looked from me to Harold and back again, waiting for me to take her side. Totally out of my depth, I knew not what to say. Had Edith quite forgotten that in asking me to champion her family, she was asking that I betray the interests of my own?
‘I …I,’ I stammered, floundering badly before Harold came to my aid.
‘This is not women’s business, Edith, I have told you. We cannot risk civil war just because we love our little brother. Sire,’ he continued, turning back to his king, ‘we cannot afford to fragment our strength at this time. England is in peril, William awaits his chance overseas and at the first sign of unrest he will come, we cannot defend England on two fronts.’
‘But, Harold,’ whined the king, ‘Tostig is my faithful servant, should I not show my gratitude for that?’
Harold put his head back, mouthing unspoken words at the vaulted ceiling,
‘No, Sire. Not if it puts all England at risk. I have never advised you wrong and you know I would never go against my kin unless it were imperative. I beseech you, my king, give Northumbria to Morcar, Tostig can have other lands.’
‘East Anglia or Wessex?’ sneered Tostig, and Harold turned on him, his face white and his lips clenched,
‘Hold your tongue, Tostig. For the love of God, have pity on your king, look at what you are doing to him.’
Edward was hunched on his throne, plucking at his sparse beard, his watery eyes darting back and forth between the brothers. He fixed his gaze on Harold and swallowed before announcing,
‘You decide, Harold, you have ever guided me right, I leave it all to you.’
Tostig whirled on his king,
‘You weak-livered, coward.’ he screamed, ‘I put up with your whimpering, cloying ways for all these years and now, at the first sign of trouble, you abandon me. I am leaving, do you hear me, old man? You will not see me again.’
Evading Edward’s clutching hands and shouldering Harold out of his way, he strode from the chamber; we heard him calling his men to horse as he stormed along the corridor. Edith burst into tears,
‘How could you, Harold? I swear I will never speak to you again. Never, never.’ she cried, rushing in pursuit of her other brother. Edward began to sob into his kerchief,
‘Christ.’ Harold cursed.
I put my arm about the king’s shoulder.
‘Do not fret, Sire,’ I murmured. ‘Shall I call your man to help you to bed? You are unwell.’
Edward clutched at my arm, and we shuffled toward his sleeping place, calling to his servant, Geraint, as we went. When he was passed into safe hands I returned to find Harold sitting on the king’s table with his head in his hands.
‘Christ’s wounds, Eadgyth, what have I done to deserve this? I have lost a brother and a sister this day and all for want of a competent king.’
‘Hush, Harold,’ I murmured, stroking his bowed back, ‘You did what was best for England, you were right to avoid civil war at all cost and the king knows that.’
He sat up and span round on his buttocks to face me. His usual arrogant expression was marred by stress.
‘Your brother, Edwin, joined the rebels last week in support of Morcar’s claim to the earldom, the combined northern armies are vast; Edwin even had some Welsh with him. They have laid waste to vast tracts of land and, had we wanted to, we would have been hard put to beat them. No, Eadgyth, I backed your family for a number of reasons. We would have been hard pressed to win against them, and losing would have made it difficult to maintain our marriage agreement.’
He leaned forward and I felt him grow calmer in my arms; he kissed me.
‘I suggest we appease your brothers, make sure Edward reinstates the laws of Cnut and get ourselves wed as soon as we may.’
Boshum 1065
I woke early and lay quietly for a few moments, wondering what had disturbed my dreams. Slowly, as the dullness of sleep wore off, I recalled that it was the day I would become the Lady of Wessex. The King was unable to shake off his melancholy and sickened, his lingering illness precluding the huge wedding due to us as the Earl of Wessex and his lady butI was glad to be spared the fuss. I had no wish to be made an exhibition of. Instead, Harold had organised a small intimate joining at the ancient church at Bosham with only our families present. The queen refused to attend and refused to be reconciled with Harold so only Gytha and Harold’s sisters and brothers and Edwin and Morcar were coming and of course Anwen and the children would be there.
I sat up, stretching my arms, becoming aware as I did so, that my bed was strewn with winter garlands, woven ivy and holly, bright with berries. Leaning forward to draw back the bed curtain, I noticed I was not alone and gave an involuntary cry. Harold waited, wide-awake, by the window.
‘Good morning, madam, I come bearing gifts,’ he grinned, ‘I had not realised you were such a slug-a-bed. Had the season been more clement I would have smothered you with posies but these evergreens will have to suffice, my page had a devil's job collecting them.’
He came over to the bed and handed me a cup of ale from the nightstand.
The sun was just beginning to lighten in the east, so I knew that the household would be abroad.
‘What time is it?’ I asked, ‘and where is Anwen?’
‘I sent her forth,’ he grinned, ‘much to her disapproval. Do you know, I don’t think she has taken to me.’
I sloshed the ale about my mouth, freshening my breath before swallowing.
‘She has a natural Welsh instinct to mistrust Saxons and she worries that you may sample the wares before you’ve paid for them.’
‘How well she knows me,’ he laughed, leaning forward and trying to peer down the neck of my nightgown.
‘Are you ready for your morgengifu now?’ he asked, drawing a small package from the folds of his tunic. I had forgotten the Saxon tradition of a gift to the bride on the morning of the wedding. I sat up, reaching to take the parcel from him and he kissed me on the side of the mouth,
‘Of course the real gift will come later,’ he whispered and for once I did not blush at the inference of his words.
The package was wrapped in a soft covering and tied with ribbon. I untied it, discovering within a psalter so small that I could conceal it within my p
alm. Its tiny size did not mean that the artistry of the book was less fine. The cover was wrought with gems and gold and, inside, the lettering and illumination was vivid and beautiful. I had lost my old psalter during the attack on Rhuddlan and Harold, knowing how I mourned it, had ordered this one made for me especially. There was a dedication to me on the first page and the scribe had noted that the prayer book commemorated the union of Eadgyth Ælfgarsdóttir and Harold Godwinson of Wessex. Tears misted my eyes, it was so much more than I had expected.
‘Thank you, Harold,’ I croaked, ‘it is more than I deserve.’
‘No, it isn’t.’ he exclaimed, ‘Look, I have this for you too. I can’t have you coming to the altar without proper adornment,’ and he draped a chain of gold about my neck. It was heavy and I looked down, lifting it to allow closer inspection.
The goldsmith had worked tiny, multicoloured enamel squares into separate leaves of gold that lay flat against my neck. It was joined by links of gold to form a chain. I had seen nothing like it before and Harold said that he had picked it up from a goldsmith near York while he was organising the instatement of Morcar as Earl of Northumbria.
I slid from the bed and stood barefoot in the rushes, tiptoeing to kiss him on the mouth. ‘Thank you, Harold.’ I whispered.
It was the first time I had initiated an intimate gesture and he drew back a little with a quizzical expression.
‘Had I thought you so easy bought I’d have given you gifts sooner,’ he teased. Then he turned to leave the room, slapping my rump, naked beneath the flimsy nightgown. ‘See you in church, sweetheart,’ he winked from the doorway, ‘and don’t be late.’
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