‘Eadgyth,’ Harold began, ‘this is Eadgytha…’ I interrupted him.
‘We have already met,’ I said, watching my rival with a critical eye as she executed a sweeping curtsey. She smiled, seemingly unmoved by our encounter.
‘I remember you.’ said the fair-haired child at her side, ‘We met you at the church. You didn’t tell us then you were going to marry our father.’ The child pouted, looking from me to Harold and back again. I recalled they had named her for Harold’s mother, Gytha, in an attempt to win her approval.
‘That, little lady, is because it was none of your business,’ cried Godwin and I flashed a grateful glance at him, glad that our newfound friendship extended to him defending me against his family. Eadgytha must be proud of her tall, golden boy, I thought as I watched him gather the little ones together.
‘Come,’ he said, ‘let us go in and refresh ourselves, you must be thirsty after your ride.’ Idwal hung back. Magnus however, felt no such fears and, his twisted gait no obstacle, fell in beside him, admiring Idwal’s wooden sword and comparing it with his own. ‘There is to be another great battle you know,’ I heard him saying, ‘but Father will win, he always does. I’m certain that, had he been in time for the battle of the foul ford, the Norwegians would not have beaten us. You have only to listen to the tales of Stamford Bridge to know that. I have heard, already, that the bards set the day to rhyme.’
Idwal, with Maredudd at his side, nodded his head.
‘Yes, my uncles were there too; Uncle Morcar took some hurt but will fight again…’
Their voices trailed away as I passed into the hall and accepted the goblet that Eadgytha offered me. Looking around the hall I noted, with a pang of envy, the rich hangings and the bright armoury above the high table. So, my lord keeps his light o’ love in good comfort, I thought, sipping at my cup of wine.
My heart sick within me, words froze on my lips and I stood silent until the awkwardness threatened to swamp us. Godwin sought to put us at our ease.
‘Look, Madam,’ he said, indicating the finely worked embroidery of the hangings, ‘Tis my mother’s work. Your own needlecraft is very fine too; you will be able to spend the afternoons working together. Mother, the queen has sewn some sumptuous covers for Father’s chambers.’
I doubted I would ever be able to work alongside Eadgytha but, grateful for his felicity, I cleared my throat and spoke out, breaking the silence between us.
‘It is very fine,’ I said, and, indeed, the fine crewelwork was delicate and the colours bright, ‘I shall look forward to working with you, Eadgytha.’
She flushed, ‘You are very kind, Madam, but I fear my son is biased, my work is no more than adequate.’
Her manner was so gracious, I felt sickened. Circumstances meant that our dislike must be mutual yet she plastered on that ridiculous expression and pretended love for me. I looked away, wishing I were anywhere else on earth.
Harold, slapping his knees, stood up and said,
‘Let us show the queen her chambers, then she can settle in a while before supper.’
Eadgytha nodded her ascent and I stood up, stroking my belly and unstiffening my back. She ushered me from the hall toward the women’s quarters, a cluster of separate bowers set apart from the great hall.
The chamber was dark. Anwen threw back the shutter and light came streaming in revealing a richly carved bed with thick tapestry hangings and a table and chair set mid way between the brazier and the window. Refreshments were heaped on the table, nuts and fruit and wine. The floor was strewn with fresh rushes and herbs and the bed looked freshly stuffed and inviting.
‘Thank you,’ I said, ‘You have done me proud.’
‘Tis only for a few days,’ said Harold, ‘you must both travel to safety at Chester, just until I have dealt with William and then you will be straight back at court. Anyway, sweetheart, you must rest awhile now. Anwen, make your mistress comfortable and Maude, keep the children away so the queen can sleep.’
Then, ushering Eadgytha from the room, he left me alone with Anwen, dismissed from his presence as if I were his subject.
Resentment surged through me, jolting in its intensity. For a few moments I listened, with compressed lips, to their dwindling footsteps. I could hear Harold’s voice but not discern his words but I imagined they were tender. Once they were out of earshot, I rose from the bed.
‘I’m buggered if I’m staying here like an errant child.’ I announced to an astonished Anwen and, opening the door, I marched down the walkway back in the direction of the main hall.
My footsteps slowed with my dwindling courage and, as I reached the open door, I hesitated on the threshold, hidden from those within by the screen that redirected the winter drafts. Through a chink in the tapestry I could see them. Harold was perched on the corner of the table close to where Eadgytha sat in a high backed chair. Her head was down and she fiddled with the ends of her veil while Harold spoke earnestly to her.
‘Tis not for long, Eadgytha, and there is no one else I can trust. I cannot fight if one part of me is worrying for the safety of those I care about. You must travel with the queen to Chester and wait events there. Should I not win the battle…’
Eadgytha looked up then, her face protesting, she tried to speak but Harold silenced her with a hand on her shoulder. Envy twisted my guts.
‘Should I not return,’ he continued, ‘you must help her escape into Wales. Should William capture her, her life will be forfeit for she carries my heir. Besides, I would have you and our children safe too. You can be sure he will let none survive who may threaten his cause.’
She nodded but did not look up.
‘I knew I could rely on you,’ Harold said, lifting her to her feet and kissing her brow, ‘you are a good woman, Eadgytha, the best of women. I am grateful for your acceptance. Many would have wept and wailed against what fate has dealt you these last months yet you remain strong and noble in the spite of everything.’
My heart pounding, my breath grew short but still I did not move. How could he help but compare her composure with my filthy temper? How many times had I berated him, pelted him with insults or slapped his face? She was graceful in a crisis while I raged against it. She was slender and refined while I was too tall and fat. I knew that I could never compete against her goodness.
I watched as Harold’s kiss extended for too long to remain brotherly and he drew her to him and held her, her bowed head beneath his chin. My heart breaking, I turned and ran blindly back to the chamber and, throwing myself on the bed, gave vent to jealous tears.
He did not come to my chamber until almost dawn and I was sure he had been with her all that time. Unable to look at him or school my sulky face into pleasing lines, I kept my head low until he grew angry, spoiling our last hours before he rode away.
‘Why must you be like this, woman?’ he yelled at me, ‘This is hard for me too. Do you think I want to go and fight? You think I’d rather risk all in the shield wall than lay idle in your chamber all my life? Grow up, and do what you must do and with good grace, as your betters do.’
Tears flooded my cheeks, collecting beneath my chin, the sobs rending me but I could not tell him the reason for them. I could not tell him I had witnessed his last tender moments with his concubine. All too soon the messenger came to tell him his mount was saddled. Harold sighed and stood hands on hips looking down at me and I sensed he fought against steadily rising anger; he seemed to win the battle. He knelt before me, the king of England on his knees in the rushes at my feet.
‘Eadgyth,’ he said, coaxing me to quit my weeping, ‘I must go now. Let our leavetaking be tender. I need you to take care, of yourself, of the children and of our young prince.’ He touched my stomach, a moment’s contact with his unborn son, before continuing.
‘I know you don’t want to, but you must promise to do as Eadgytha says; she will cherish you for my sake. I have her promise and, now, I ask for yours.’
All I could do was nod. I had no
words. Harold stroked my hair,
‘Eadgyth,’ he said, ‘I will return. Remember that you bear England’s prince and keep him safe for me.’
Then he was gone, a gust of wind, a slamming door, a shouted order to move out, the sound of hooves ...and he was gone. By the time I reached the door all that remained was the dust settling, like rain, in the yard. Eadgytha stood beside me, silent.
‘He has gone,’ I said, ‘and I never told him that I love him.’
Eadgytha smiled encouragement.
‘Do not worry,’ she said, ‘if I know Harold at all, it will not have occurred to him that you may feel otherwise.’
And, together, we walked back into her hall.
Waltham, 1066
‘I’m not going to Chester, Eadgytha.’ I cried and she turned from where she and Anwen were folding garments and placing them in a travelling box.
‘Of course you are, Lady.’ exclaimed Anwen, placing her hands on her hips and preparing to do battle.
‘No, I’m not. I cannot do it. I am going to follow Harold. Supposing he is wounded? He will need me.’
‘He needs you to look after his child.’ argued Anwen and I saw Eadgytha glance at her, surprised at such insolence. They stood, shoulder to shoulder, ranged against me and I stuck out my chin.
‘I don’t care what you say, I am your queen and it is for you to do as you are told …both of you.’ They glanced at each other but Eadgytha remained silent while Anwen refused to be cowed.
‘And what about the children?’ she cried, ‘What of your duty to them as their mother? How can you think to expose them to the rigours of a battlefield and how can you risk the king’s unborn son too?’
‘I don’t care.’ I began to cry again, my already sore nose beginning to run.
‘Come. Lady,’ crooned Anwen, trying a different tack, ‘tis just the babe making you act peculiar. Harold will be back in a day or two and all this upset will be as eggs an’ moonshine.’
‘And if he doesn’t, I will live with regrets for the rest of my days.’ I sobbed, ‘I am going, Anwen, whether you like or not, so pack me a separate box please and cease wasting your breath on arguments.’
Torn between her natural common sense and her loyalty to me, Anwen looked to Eadgytha for support.
‘What do you think, Lady?’ she asked.
Continuing to fold Gytha’s nightgown, Eadgytha smoothed the linen and then placed it in the box.
‘I think,’ she said, ‘that we should do as our queen commands. I think that you, Anwen, should accompany the children and travel with all speed to Chester, while the queen and I follow the army. Harold asked me to look after her and so I have no choice. Wherever the queen goes, there must I follow.’
My mouth fell open in surprise, I was not altogether pleased not to be rid of Eadgytha’s company but, clapping my hands together, I cried,
‘Yes, that’s it. You can take the children to Chester, Anwen. They will be safe with you, and Eadgytha and I will join you there after the battle, as soon as we can.’
‘Oh no,’ frowned Anwen, ‘I’m not having that, I am coming with you. When I was taken off into Snowdonia with Gruffydd I swore I’d never leave your side again. You take me with you, Madam, or I follow behind you like a stray hound. Maude can manage the children with the help of the under-servants, tis you and that young’n you carry that I must look to now.’
Without waiting for my consent she began to burrow into the already packed boxes and separate our belongings from the children’s, piling her clothes in with mine. Eadgytha shrugged and I raised my eyes to heaven. It seemed Anwen was to have her way.
Later, when we broke the news to the children, there were tears. Gytha climbed onto her mother’s lap and buried her head while Magnus tried to look resigned.
Godwin and Edmund had ridden forth with their father, leaving just three of Eadgytha’s children behind. Her elder daughter, Gunnhild, was a novitiate at Wilton abbey where, it was hoped, she sent fervent prayers for her father’s victory. When they heard the news, Idwal bit at his underlip, trying to maintain his composure. Maredudd, eager for adventure, hastily checked he had his sword and helmet and then challenged Magnus to a playtime duel.
Nesta, too young to understand, just sucked her thumb, sensing some threat to her security. I would miss them but I felt driven to follow Harold, to speak to him before the onset of battle and to tell him that he was more precious to me than the stars in heaven.
A lively wind whipped about us as we waved Maude and the children off. I snuggled Idwal’s cloak about his neck and bade him be brave, sensing his fear and knowing he recalled his last flight from danger.
‘Be of good cheer, my son.’ I told him, ‘this time tis but a short parting and, before we know it, we will all be back together.’ He attempted a plucky smile and allowed me to place a kiss on his forehead. Nesta opened her mouth and gave vent to a huge roar as they rode away, leaving no one to doubt her feelings. Maude pulled her close and the wagons and horses moved off, Maredudd and Magnus waving their swords and issuing war cries as they went.
Eadgytha surreptitiously wiped away a tear and I felt a pang of guilt at parting her from her children. She had confided the previous evening that they had never been separated before and at that moment I knew exactly how she felt. Quelling the impulse to rush after them and call them all back, I placed a hand on her shoulder and we went to complete our own preparations for the journey.
My mare stepped daintily through the mire of the road that led to Caldbec Hill and the site of the hoaréd apple tree. Eadgytha and I looked about us in wonder at the constant stream of foot soldiers who trod the same path as we.
‘The whole country has turned out.’ I exclaimed, ‘I had not thought there would be so many.’
‘Harold is a good king,’ Eadgytha replied, ‘and no man wants to live under Norman rule.’
Anwen followed, one pace behind, open mouthed at the spectacle but, for once, adhering to the demands of etiquette and forebearing to make comment. The way was thronged with fightingmen; huscarls, thegns and fyrdmen armed with wooden shields and bristling spears, axes swinging at their belts and swords at their hips. Bowmen with their quivers stuffed full with arrows. Abandoning their harvest, farmers and ploughmen marched grimfaced, girded with scythes, pitchforks and hammers.
We saw grandfathers with clubs, and young boys with slings. We even passed a group of monks, shuffling in single file behind their abbot who led them in a rousing psalm. Women followed in lumbering carts, bringing bandages, food and other comforts for the soldiers. Eadgytha and I looked about us, our throats tight with gratitude.
‘God bless you.’ we cried to them as we passed by and they saluted us although they knew not who we were.
The apple tree, tortured by decades of wind, stood proud on its ridge, the slopes beneath it bright with Harold’s mustered armies. Pavilions, brilliant in the sun, flew pennants that fluttered and snapped in the breeze.
I spied the dragon of Wessex straight away and, a moment later, Eadgytha pointed out Harold’s personal banner of the fighting man; his club raised and his prodigious cock erect. Armed men sat stolidly sharpening their weapons, honing the blades to a deadly edge. Minions and servants scurried to and fro with messages and a few women intermingled with the men, bringing food and drink.
The royal pavilion stood brave in its royal colours and I made toward it but Eadgytha held me back.
‘Nay, Madam, stay a while. The time is not right. Remember, he will be angry that we have disobeyed him and we should not distract him from his task. We came to watch over him, did we not, not to provide him with further cares?’
Although I was desperate to see Harold I agreed, she was always right. We guided our mounts away from the royal camp and presently joined a group of women on the ridge who had set up a makeshift infirmary. Already they treated ailments of the arriving force, soothing the footsore and dosing the sick. In our homespun tunics nobody guessed we were of noble blood and,
without revealing our identities, Eadgytha offered our services and set to bathing the bloodied feet of a young bowman.
I sat rolling bandages while listening to the tale of his fifty-mile journey from the home where his mother, young wife and baby waited ‘twill be a poor harvest this year, Lady, no matter what,’ he was saying, ‘but, if we can send the Norman back whence he came quickly enough, I may still be home in time to bring in the barley and collect the apples from the orchard.’
Eadgytha was murmuring assurances that he would do so when I heard my name and, on turning, saw Godwin fighting his way through the throng until he stood aghast before me, his face flushed and angry. He had not seen his mother at the bowman’s feet.
‘What are you doing here? Have you no sense? Father will be furious.’
Standing up, I led him away from the tent, dodging the darting messengers, and walked with him to the edge of the hill
‘I had to come, Godwin, I could not just wait and wonder. I meant to come alone but they would not let me, believe me, I wanted them to go on to Chester without me.’
He turned, his quizzical expression slowly turning to realisation.
‘You mean, Mother is here too. God’s grief, Madam. Are you both mad? I hope to Christ you had the sense to leave the children at home…If things should go ill tomorrow…’
Placing a finger over his lips to silence him, ‘Hush’ I said, ‘hush, do not even speak of that and, don’t worry, the children are safe on the way to Chester.’
‘As should you be.’ he cried and then, smiling ruefully, ‘Father will be spitting mad Eadgyth, if he finds out.’
‘Oh, I know and he will find out, for I mean to visit him as soon as dusk has fallen.’
‘More fool you then.’ he grinned and I knew he had overcome the worst of his anger, ‘perhaps you could escort me, Godwin, I should not care to walk through camp unaccompanied.’
‘I will be honoured, Madam, but I fear I must abandon you at the entrance of the tent for I’m not heroic enough to want to risk Father’s wrath.’
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