I remembered him sitting fragrantly at King Edward’s feet, laughing at some joke of the queen’s. He had been so alive, so vibrant. How had he come to this; a corpse, traitor to king and country, defeated by his own brother’s army? I had never felt comfortable in Tostig’s company, had not disliked so much as distrusted him. He had disturbed me but he was my husband’s brother and I knew the pain Harold would be feeling and the lengths he would go to hide it from his fellows. I knew him to be in torment, yet he was too far away for me to offer comfort.
‘And your father took no bodily hurt?’ I asked, offering Godwin a plate of chicken. ‘No, Lady, only a few scratches,’ he said, stripping the flesh from the bone with his strong teeth. ‘I was amazed to see him walk from the fray unscathed; it was all I could do not to rush up and embrace him but, Edmund has not my reticence and he hugged him hard enough for us both, wept too with relief.’ The boy laughed in recollection. ‘Father all but threw him aside and told him not to be so mawkish. Then he hollered for ale and spent the night carousing with the men. The next day they prepared to clear the battleground of valuables and deal with the prisoners. Father sent me hence on the Tuesday morning and it has taken me this long to reach you, I lost my way twice but, after asking direction, I found the road again.’
It sounded as though Harold was fully restored to his normal self, the sharp edge of inactivity dulled by battle. I smiled and took Godwin’s hand, ‘You have done well Godwin; Harold will be proud, very proud.’
At last, warmth and friendship surged between us and he returned my smile, looking away again, shy at our newfound alliance. ‘Now, get thee hence to Waltham to tell your mother the news,’ I said, getting up and opening the door for him.
‘That I will, Lady,’ he cried, and was gone, forgetting the solicitations due to his queen, but I did not mind, I felt accepted, like a mother.
Heartened by the news, I helped Anwen tidy the chamber. ‘Lady, ‘tis not your place to be helping me.’ she scolded but I ignored her, folding the linen and placing it in tidy piles on the bed. If only our lives were so easily ordered, our emotions and relationships neatly stacked, ready to be taken from the shelf and unfolded at will.
When all was in readiness for the next day, Maude brought the children to say goodnight; Nest in her nightgown, plump and rosy from the hearthside snuggled on my lap while the boys sat at my feet, telling me of their day. Puppy foraged in the rushes for interesting smells and dropped titbits.
‘Mother, do you think Arthur was as brave a king as Harold?’ asked Maredudd. The boys had been hearing stories of Arthur and Gwynhyfwr from Maude and Anwen, whose Welshness remained undimmed by the everyday realities of Saxon England.
‘I don’t expect so, sweet one, although he seems to have had as many foes as Harold. I like to think …’
A rumpus in the courtyard interrupted my train of thought. ‘Whatever is happening, Anwen?’ I cried, leaping from my chair, almost letting Nesta fall in my haste.
‘I will find out, Lady, stay you here. Maude, look to the little ones.’
In a flurry of skirts she swept from the room while I went to peer through the shutter into the gloom of night. The habitual quiet of the evening was shattered. Horses milled about, the voices of their riders shouting, torches blazing, dogs barking, footsteps running.
The memory of Harold’s attack on Rhuddlan Castle came rushing back and I cast about me looking for somewhere to hide with the children. Maude, beside me at the window put her hand on my arm, ‘Do not worry, Lady, I think they be friends. Look, is that not Earl Leofwine’s mark?’ My heart banging, I focussed on the men that clamoured in the yard.
‘I think ‘tis so, Maude. Oh my heart. It beats like a drum.’ I laughed in relief. The children were clinging to my skirts when Anwen burst through the door followed by Leofwine and the messenger. Anwen’s face was stark white, her eyes wide.
She tried to stutter her news but, for once, she was bereft of speech. Leo stepped forward, as white faced as she, clearing his throat he said, ‘I have news, Lady, that has flown the court into panic. You must ride at once to safety, the Normans have landed on the south coast, at Peven sea and even now, are looting and burning a swathe across the country.’
All summer long we had been prepared, we had waited with pennants flying, armed to the teeth, ready to take on the Norman armies when they came. Now, we were cast into disarray by their untimely arrival. The fyrd had disbanded to see what could be salvaged of the harvest, our armies were scattered and Harold, our king, at the other end of the country. Messengers were dispatched to the four corners of the realm, one to Harold to summon him back in haste, the others to muster the fighting men, the earls and thegns of England.
Soon the militia began to ride in; the good men of Berkshire, Essex and Kent arrived first, their morale strengthened by the news of Harold’s success against the Norwegian king. They put up in tents, waiting for instructions. Our spies told us that maybe seven hundred ships had landed on our southern shore; ships, bristling with spears and laden with men and horses. Immediately on landing, the invaders had scouted the area, burning, killing and stealing livestock and produce. Further reports said that they then set to building themselves a makeshift fortress, a wooden structure from which to defend their position.
Leofwine strode about the palace, his face darkened with responsibility. Without waiting for Harold, he sent his fighting men to ride forth to contain the Norman’s in their makeshift stronghold by the seashore.
‘You must go, Lady,’ he told me, ‘ride to Waltham or Bosham, somewhere you will be safe should they break through our defences.’
‘I will not,’ I replied, ‘I will wait for Harold and do as he tells me to do.’ I stuck out my chin, determined to see Harold before he rode off to fight again. Leo raised his arms in despair at my obstinate refusal to do as I was told.
‘On your own head be it, Lady,’ he growled, ‘and if Harold threatens to take my head for it, be so good as to intervene on my behalf.’
‘That I can promise to do, Leo,’ I smiled, as he rushed off, distracted by the weight that had fallen upon him.
It was an exhausted band that arrived, foot sore and hungry a week or so later. As the weary men dispersed, Harold slid from his horse and kissed me, keeping his arm about my shoulders as we entered the palace. The stench of the road clung to him, his clothes were mired and his face filthy.
‘You, my husband, need a bath,’ I observed, as he threw his stinking cloak at a passing slave, unleashing the odour of his unwashed body.
‘Tis a drink, I need more, sweetheart,’ he said taking a wine jug and emptying it down his throat. ‘Jesu, I’m as dry as an old woman’s crotch.’
He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and grinned at me, his exhilaration showing through a face grey with dust and exhaustion. ‘Well, Eadgyth, we trounced Hardrada and, those we didn’t kill, we sent back across the North Sea with their tails between their legs, now all that remains is to do the same to William.’
Kneeling before him and pulling off his boots, I examined them and decided they were only fit for disposal. ‘Godwin told me the full story. He said Morcar was hurt, not badly I hope.’
‘Not mortal hurt, but he will not be fit to do battle for a while; Edwin has gone to muster more fighting men and meets with us at the hoaréd apple tree tomorrow.’
I looked up aghast, ‘Tomorrow? What are you thinking? You are exhausted and your men too. You cannot possibly march again tomorrow? You need food and rest, Leofwine can keep the Normans at bay for a day or two surely.’
He got up and began to pace the room. ‘I cannot tolerate that man on Saxon soil for one day more. If you could have seen how we vanquished the Norwegians, Eadgyth, you would understand that my blood lust is up and I cannot rest until I have slaughtered the Normans too. I need to strike while the iron is hot.’
‘You should listen to your wife, Harold,’ said a voice, and we turned to see Gytha standing by the door.
She se
emed to stand out, a lone figure against her surroundings, as if set apart from the rest of us by her terrible grief. Harold put down is cup and swallowed audibly, ‘Mother,’ he said, wetting his lips with his tongue. Gytha came forward, her face white, and stood before him,
‘How are you, my son?’ she asked after a pause, surveying his strained face. For a few silent moments they stood close together, each looking for answers in the other’s eyes.
So delighted had I been to see Harold come safe home, I had momentarily forgotten about Tostig. Now, witnessing their private torment, I remembered her terrible sorrow and realised that I was intruding. Making an excuse, I hurried from the room. As I closed the door I saw Harold slump to his knees before his mother and clasp her knees, sobbing his repentance while, with her head bowed, she stroked his dirty hair.
When I returned an hour or so later, Gytha had gone and Harold lay across the bed, his head back and gentle snores issuing from his open mouth. I crept to look at him.
He seemed vulnerable and small, his larger than life personality quenched by sleep. His hair, still grimy from the road, had fallen back from his face and the strong bones of his jaw were slackened; the bristly skin pallid and his eye sockets hollow from exhaustion. He looked, in fact, as he would look when he became an old man.
I pondered briefly upon the joy with which we would fill the intervening years. The homes we would build, the children we would raise. Then Harold stirred in his sleep drawing me from my reverie and I saw it was coming on dark so, disrobing and finding a coverlet to throw across us, I climbed onto the bed beside him. The fire had sunk low in the grate and the chamber chilly. As I eased myself beside him he seemed to sense my warmth and rolled over, tucking an arm across me; soon we both slept.
The next morning the children were riotous with excitement so I instructed Anwen to take them for a walk to the river to feed the royal swans.
They set off, armed with stale bread, their cheerful voices floating to where I stood watching them go. Back in the chamber I made myself busy, one ear tuned to Harold’s snores but it was close to noon before he eventually awoke. As soon as he began to stir I sent Maude to organise water to be heated and the wooden tub to be brought to the chamber. My husband was to take a bath, whether he felt he needed one or not.
Complaining that he had better things to do, he reluctantly began to strip, scattering his clothes about the chamber. I followed him about the room, gathering his garments up and handing them to Maude. ‘Take them to be burned,’ I told her, ‘they are not fit for a beggar.’ Then I turned to my husband, armed with a scrubbing brush and scented soap.
‘NO.’ he cried, when he saw my approach, ‘I can do it myself, woman.’ but, undeterred, I began to soap him all over and scrub him, the soft bristles stimulating his blood and bringing the life back into his skin. My sleeves rolled up like a dairymaid and elbow deep in the king’s bath-water, I rubbed away the grime of battle.
As the water discoloured and the warmth soothed his aches he ceased his complaints and lay back allowing me to continue with my administrations. I chattered of inconsequential things, the children’s progress, our forthcoming babe, Maude’s recurring toothache …anything but the imminent battle.
He was watching me as I rubbed in slow circles, covering his stomach in suds and watching his wet belly hair undulate in the water. So engrossed was I in my task that I was unprepared when he grabbed me suddenly and pulled me into the tub, submerging me, veil and all.
A wave of water surged over the sides and slopped into the rushes and I came up breathless, my veil lost and my hair stuck to my head. My mouth opened in shock as I gasped for breath while he roared with laughter at me, delighted with his revenge.
‘Harold.’ I yelled, ‘what the...’ but he silenced me, engulfing my mouth with his and tugging my encumbering skirts out of the way of his questing hands. His moustaches tickled my nose as I gave up the fight and relaxed against him to easily let him win the fray.
Afterwards, while he shaved his chin, I cleansed myself in his cooling bathwater and found a fresh gown, unwilling for Maude or Anwen to guess at what had passed between us. He watched me as I adjusted my hose and tied my garters. ‘Eadgyth,’ he said, spoiling the quiet intimacy of the moment, ‘I must ride to Waltham today.’
His words doused me like cold water and I felt my stomach turn. Anger surged unbidden and I heard myself saying; ‘I would have thought you would have had more urgent matters to attend on the eve of battle than a visit with your mistress.’
‘For God’s sake, Eadgyth, why do you persist in this? She is not my mistress, I have explained that and, if you had allowed me to finish, I was about to say that I wish you to accompany me?’
I had not expected that. ‘Whatever for? I do not wish to be in her company for a moment so do not invite me along and think I will exchange niceties with her.’
My face felt hot with jealousy and I fought hard against indignant tears. I knew I was behaving like a child but I could not quell my instinctive dislike for the woman. Harold softened.
‘Come here,’ he said and I went to him sulkily and he sat me on his knee and twiddled my fingers. ‘Listen, sweetheart, these are difficult times and, as king, I must do things I would rather not do. We all must, for the sake of England. Ordinary men have left their homes and families to fight a battle from which they may not return, women have watched their husbands and sons march away without a word of recrimination, although they may never be back. My men have marched the length and breadth of the country, to fight and now must fight again. We cannot let the Norman’s win and in order to ensure it, I must ask all my subjects to do as I request without exception…even you, Eadgyth.’
‘Me?’ I said, startled out of my sulk, ‘I will do anything, Harold, anything you ask.’
He let out a long, audible breath. ‘Well, that’s good to hear, sweetheart, because I have to ask you to do something you will not like, and I am trusting that your sense of duty will help you do it with dignity.’
‘What is it?’ I asked, my blood chilling. Harold’s blue eyes did not falter as he looked into mine and explained;
‘I need you to come to Waltham with me, to bring the children and Anwen and remain there, with Eadgytha, while I go to fight William. When I …’
‘You must be mad.’ I screamed, ‘Why on earth do I have to go there? Why can I not wait here?’ Leaping from his knee, I snatched my wrist away as he tried to catch it. He regarded me coldly, his lips tight, then he stated,
‘You said you would do anything.’
‘Anything but that, Harold, how can you ask it of me?’
‘You might consider my position, madam, and the fact that I am asking a similar favour of Eadgytha. I have the confidence that her answer will be more accommodating than your own.’
When I looked at him I saw only his disappointment in me and I hated him for it. I hated the Swannecked woman and I hated myself for acting in such a detestable way. I could see quite clearly that my hurt pride was preventing me from becoming the generous person I had always intended to be.
‘Eadgyth,’ Harold was saying, ‘Think of me. I have two families to protect. Mother has agreed to join Edith in Winchester but you, sweetheart, need to be in safe hands too. In your condition you are made all the more vulnerable. Eadgytha is a good woman, she will not show prejudice toward you or your children; she will care for you for my sake.’
My sense of inferiority increased at his words and I dissolved into tears again. He gentled and pulled me onto his knee again, tucking back my hair and kissing my cheek. His faith that she would do the right thing, made me seem mean spirited and I knew he was right The swan neck would care for me but, were I in her shoes, I would not do the same for her.
‘I suppose I have no choice,’ I said, and he smiled, satisfied that I had given my word. Patting my knee, he spilled me to the floor and began to shout for the grooms to make ready our horses.
‘Your boxes can be sent after, right now a
ll we need is to get you and the children to safety. In the next few days you must all ride to Chester in the company of Eadgytha’s household. There, you will all be safe should ill befall me. At all costs, sweetheart, you must not fall in to William’s hands. Should I be slain, you carry the rightful king in your womb.’
The pain in my throat became unbearable when he so casually mentioned his own death. I made to call him back but he had already hastened from the chamber and was bellowing out orders in the bailey.
I was silent on the journey, sickened by the trial that lay ahead. I fought angry tears, dreading him comparing my own awkward bulk with Eadgytha’s elegance. Oblivious to my discomfort, the children chattered as we rode, pointing out a darting fox and exclaiming when a buzzard swooped for its prey. My eyes remained on Harold’s back, broad and straight, before me on the road and I wished we were journeying any road but the one that led to Waltham. I wanted to explain how I felt but I did not know how to make him understand. Each opportunity for me to break the silence passed and, as the sun reached the tail end of its downward journey, we turned the last dusty corner and there was Eadgytha standing with her children in the dusk.
I absorbed the domestic scene. Poultry scratched in the yard and the hedge bordering a pretty kitchen garden was strewn with washing. Eadgytha stood, poised and beautiful, while Godwin, followed by a brood of siblings, rushed to engulf our party in welcome.
‘Father.’ exclaimed the small girl that I remembered from our previous encounter at Waltham church. She ran to Harold who swept her into his arms and kissed her happy cheeks. I took my time dismounting, unwilling to witness Harold’s tender greeting of his family. I made some pretence of fiddling with my stirrup before allowing Godwin to help me to the ground. He steadied me, squeezing my arm to indicate his support, then, brushing the dust of the road from my skirts, I waited while Harold, with his hand on Eadgytha’s elbow, led her forward to greet me.
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