North Sea Dawn

by Susan Amund

  North Sea Dawn

  by Susan Amund

  For my husband, thank you.

  The Norman Conquest of England

  Year 1066

  Sequence of Events

  January 4 King Edward the Confessor of England Dies

  January 6 Harold Godwinson, Earl of Wessex, Crowned King Harold II of England

  August 12 William of Normandy gathers army to sail to England

  September 24 King Hardrada of Norway Defeated by English at Stamford Bridge

  September 28 Norman army lands in England

  October 14 Battle of Hastings between Normans and English

  December 25 Duke of Normandy Crowned King William of England

  Actual Historical Figures in North Sea Dawn

  King Harald Sigurdsson of Norway, Harald Hardrada “hard ruler”

  Duke William II of Normandy, William the Conqueror

  King Harold II of England

  Tostig Godwinson, Harold's brother

  Robert de Beaumont, 1st Earl of Leicester

  William FitzOsbern, 1st Earl of Hereford

  Prologue

  June Oslo, Norway

  Eric Vandalsson began his career as captain of a mercenary Viking crew under Harald Hardrada. The King paid gold and made promises to any man that would fight for him in Denmark, to reclaim the Danish throne for Norway. Eric made a name for himself, and his reputation was that of an excellent warrior and remarkable strategist. When he took to the field, his enemies did not have time to tremble in fear or curse his homeland. They simply died. Efficiently, quickly, blood dripping down sharp iron to redden the earth before he turned to his next opponent. The killing was a means to an end, work that must be done and was better to be accomplished without hesitation and with a mind to quick and complete victory in each battle. When Hardrada gave up trying to conquer the Danes, Eric had thought to come back to Norway and claim the lands his king had guaranteed him.

  Instead, he was offered more land for his men and gold for himself - to help put down a rebellion in the northern lands. It was distasteful work, fighting one’s own countrymen, but his men needed land to be able to build homes. Eric earned enough in the North to build a larger ship. After Hardrada’s control was secured, it was off to raid the Finns, then the Northern Saxons. Each time his king promised more: more land, more gold, even a noble woman of his choosing. For twelve years he fought for Hardrada and any man who had need and offered prompt payment. He even fought for the Rus king to the east, but always with the consent of his men. They were his friends as well as his crew, and they wished to have wealth to build houses and farms on the land they had been promised. Enough wealth to woo wives.

  By 1066, as the Christians numbered years, Eric was done fighting for empty promises. He returned to Norway as winter fell, and when spring came Eric went to see his King. Hardrada refused an audience. For weeks he waited at court, his impatience giving way to frustration, then anger. One night he stood outside the mead hall, prepared to force his way past the hist, Hardrada's private guard, and demand what was rightfully his. His men deserved the payment they had been promised.

  Abjorn, a Finn and valued comrade, caught him before he could enter the Hall and gestured to the unconscious, ale-drench body of another crew mate, and Eric’s oldest friend, where he had collapsed outside of a tavern. He requested that Eric help him carry Snorri home. They had not taken more than a dozen steps before the Finnish warrior spoke.

  “So many wait here for the King to speak with them. The Hall is full of men this night – eager to hear his promises of land and gold.” Eric said nothing, aware that Abjorn was not a man for idle chatter. He clenched his jaw and waited for him to tell him to forget his claims. “You have heard he will invade England?” The sudden change of topic threw Eric off balance.

  “Hn,” he grunted, “so his couriers have told me.”

  Abjorn’s eyes remained on the road ahead of them, his tone casual as though they spoke of a recent purchase of new boots or interesting ale. “Many have agreed to fight for him there, but others will not, as the name of Vandalsson – or his great ship MØrket – is not on the lists.”

  “No,” he answered shortly. They were both quiet for a long time. Only Snorri’s heavy breathing interrupted the quiet summer night until they had almost reached their destination. Abjorn finally broke the silence with a practiced story-telling voice Eric remembered well from from long journeys at sea.

  “The sagas say that the Allfather, Odin, promised that he would give his magic spear to the one who could produce a better weapon than even Thor's great hammer, Mjollnir. Knowing that none could best that creation, no dwarf or god stepped forward. Only a single human man, a mute blacksmith of no name or fortune, accepted the challenge. For eight years he worked, each year producing a gift greater than the last. Odin, in his cunning, asked the blacksmith why his offering was greater than Mjollnir. The blacksmith was unable to answer, and so Odin could keep his great spear for himself. Each year, the blacksmith returned to his shop to begin again. In the ninth year, the blacksmith did not appear for his audience before Odin. Out of curiosity, Odin came down from Valahalla to see what the human had forged during the year.”

  “And was the Allfather pleased with his gift?” Eric pushed open the door to Snorri’s hut and dropped the man on his sleeping pallet.

  “The blacksmith was dead, his last gift unfinished on his cold fire.” Abjorn straightened his back and met Eric’s eyes knowingly. “Odin already had a gift without equal: a man who surpassed his own skill at every turn and brought honor to himself and his god. Because the blacksmith could not argue for what he knew to be rightfully his, he lost his life without fame or fortune.”

  Abjorn went to find his own bed without another word. The story had left Eric with a great deal to think about, and he returned to his ship rather than breaking into Hardrada’s hall to make demands.

  August 12 thAurelius Island, two miles off the coast of Lowestof, Briton

  “Mary Ellery! If your husband could see you now he would leave Harold’s army just to thrash you for taking such chances!” Julia put her fists on her hips and did her best to stare at the chandler’s wife with a look of shock. Mary Ellery dropped from a low stone wall where she had been picking bayberries. Her round belly made it difficult for her to bend to pick up the assorted baskets at her feet so Julia did it for her.

  “My husband would be more worried about his candle stores than his careless wife, but I would welcome him home even with the thrashing.” She pressed her free hand against the small of her back and sighed, giving her companion a critical eye. “And we could do penance together my Lady, for I hear what you have been up to at the keep.” Her brown eyes sparkled in the early morning sunshine with suppressed mirth, “The mason told me yesterday that you were practicing with your crossbow again. Shame on you, mistress, for taking up such unladylike activities! You should go straight to confession and remember to ask your brother as soon as he gets home to give you a stern punishment.” Both women finally burst out in laughter at their own ridiculous conversation and were nearly to the village before they calmed down.

  “Aelfreic gave me that crossbow himself, and we both know it well enough.”

  “And my husband would no sooner beat me than he would desert King Harold, saints preserve him.” They were both quiet for a while as they strolled toward the coast and the village. The sun had finally burned away the last of the morning mist; the grassy pastures between the wood and the cottages ahead were still and encouraged the two women to dawdle for a moment, thinking. “Lord Aelfreic is a good knight. My husband has told me many times how skilled he is in battle. Why, he claims your brother could split a man in twain with his sword, one-handed.” Julia knew this conv
ersation well; she had gone over it a hundred times, always with a different woman, and although the names changed, the sentiment did not.

  Julia offered Mary Ellery whatever comfort she could. “And my brother has often spoken of your husband, he has always marked on how cool the chandler’s head is. He will serve his lord and the king well, and come home safely with naught but a good story or two to tell.”

  “Aye, and Lord Aelfreic will bring every man of his home to the island, he gave his word.” Aelfreic Cruithne of Aurelius had promised the families on his island that he would not come back without every man. No sooner had he returned from Witenagamot, the council of nobles, in January than he received an urgent summons from the newly appointed King Harold. The island of Aurelius was painfully curious about the summons. Aelfreic and the nobles were only called to Witenagamot to advise the King on matters of the utmost importance - they had already met twice since the harvest. Still, there was no real concern; Aelfreic was a powerful lord and commanded the respect of his peers. Thus far he had advised three kings as a Witen. Aurelius was a wealthy island; they had traded their goods through Danes and Swedes to the far-off Mediterranean and even the Arabs. Aelfreic was not a true vassal of King Harold, but rather an ally of the Britons through an ancient pact. He held no vote on the Witenagamot, but his words often swayed the votes of others, and all present – including the king – listened when he spoke. His role as advisor, as well as his wealth and lands, were coveted by many, but he personally trained every man on the island. Even the crofters, those that leased fields from their Lord, were skilled enough to protect their homes and lands against any would-be invaders, given warning.

  Aelfreic returned with the spring and announced that Harold was expecting an attack. William of Normandy had laid claim to the throne, ignoring the will of the Witenagamot, and Harold expected him to sail his men across the Channel soon. Harold could lay no claims on Aelfreic’s men other than a tradition of alliance, but Aelfreic volunteered himself and as many men as were willing to fight alongside the king.

  “It is not so much Harold that I would fight for, you understand,” he had told Julia as she packed his bag, “I do not know but that Edward may have made promises to William of Normandy or even his own brother, Tostig . Perhaps William did have some claim to the throne.” Aelfreic sighed and sank deeper into his chair by the fire, watching his sister fold his tunic, but his mind far away. “In any case, he should have come to us, and laid out his claim before the Witenagamot. Barring that, the decision has been made, and it is final. We cannot allow this Norman to dictate who Britons will pay homage to.” Julia had paused in her work, sitting idle on the side of the high bed,

  “But why must you go? What does it matter to Aurelius who rules the Britons? They have no claim on us. Our trade will prosper without them.” She paused and frowned, “Is Harold worth leaving the island open to an attack?”

  Aelfreic shook his head tiredly, he sometimes forgot how much younger his sister was than him. More than twenty years was between them and although she took charge of matters on the island with good authority when he was gone, she knew next to nothing of events anywhere else. Politics were completely out of her realm, and perhaps Aelfreic was to blame for her lack of education.

  He studied Julia over the rim of his cup; she was tall for a woman and thinner than he remembered. Her nose was sunburned from too much time outside with the crofters in their fields. Her black hair hung straight past her shoulders, and her blue eyes revealed the keen intelligence that he knew she had inherited from her mother. If Harold was right, and William did press the issue and attack, he might not come back to the island and Julia would be forced to make many decisions that would affect the lives of islanders for generations.

  Aelfreic sat up straighter, shaking off the sleep that had been threatening him. He held out his cup for more wine; he had only this one night before he must report to Harold and begin plans for defense. He had only begun to teach Julia the trade and business of the island in recent years. It seemed he would have to give her lessons on politics as well, something he had not thought would be necessary until they were both considerably older. “Harold will make a good King, Julia. The Witen all agreed on that or he would not have been crowned, regardless of whom the last king indicated as his successor. You must understand that I am preparing to fight, most nobles are, for our right to make decisions – not for this one man.” He could see that Julia was still puzzled, “When I am not here, you decide which boats to hire and how much to pay, correct?” She nodded, “And if an islander came to you and said that I had given him permission to hire a boat and determine wages, what would you do?”

  “I would ask the Steward what he knew of it…oh, if someone else were to take charge of the trade, then it sets a precedent. There would be nothing to stop any other man from doing the same, correct?”

  “Yes, in a manner of speaking. In Harold’s case there are men other than William who are waiting for any signs of weakness. As soon as they believe they see a chink in the will of the Britons, in the law of the people, they will move to take the throne.” He studied her for another moment, weighing how much to tell her. “Tostig is Harold’s brother, and he is still angry over being banished to the North. He has been mounting raids against the coastline all spring, and retreats to Scotland at the first sign of opposition. He does not command enough men to move against Harold directly, but he might find allies elsewhere. I have heard rumors that he has been in contact with Hardrada, King of Denmark and Norway. An ally of that much power could bring an army three times that which we can muster, and attack with skill anywhere along the coastline.”

  “But wouldn’t Hardrada want something in return? Surely Tostig would not want to give up the crown to a Norseman, and if I were a king I would not be satisfied with a few acres of farming reeves or a noble’s gold in exchange for doing most of the work of a war.” Julia frowned and Aelfreic nodded in approval.

  “You have reasoned it out well. Perhaps Tostig is thinking further into the future than this one war. He may mean to double-cross Hardrada, or he is simply far angrier with his own brother than we can imagine. Either way there is William to deal with, and he is the most pressing concern. I have seen the Norman troops fight against the Saxons of Germany. They fight from horseback, and they are well trained. Harold has seen them as well, but he is counting on the sea voyage to keep their horses in Normandy. Perhaps he is right, but William is not a man to be underestimated. There is much to discuss.” Julia picked up her own cup of wine, and then set it down again before drinking.

  “And what am I to do if they come here?”

  “Pray to God that they do not for nearly every man on the island is needed if we are to defend the coastline. You will have only a few able-bodied men, and past that you must count on the natural defenses of the island and your own strong arm.” Julia looked alarmed at the knowledge that armed men might come to her home, she had never been without the protection of at least ten of Aelfreic’s men. “It is unlikely that either the Normans or Hardrada’s fleet will land here; Aurelius is too far removed from the most strategic landings for either enemy.” Aelfreic smiled, trying to soothe some of the tension he knew was mounting as she considered the heavy consequences of a much wider world. “You have done so well practicing with your small bow; I have brought you another present from the mainland.” He dug into the mud crusted saddle pack at his feet and pulled out a small crossbow. It was half the size of the versions that were used in battle, and the workmanship was far more delicate. The pale wood was heavily carved and polished. Julia hefted its weight in her hands and found it surprisingly light.

  “It won’t fly a bolt as far as a heavy crossbow, and it most likely won’t pierce mail. But it you aim carefully, for the head or thighs, you will be able to kill or mortally wound a man, even if you are running or on horseback. You can keep a shot cocked for a very long time.” He stood and rested his hand on Julia’s shoulder for a moment; they were n
early eye to eye. “Practice every day, sister. If we plan well enough you will have no need of it, and it will be only a pretty toy.”

  “This isn’t a toy, Aelfreic.” She wiped angrily at the moisture gathering in her eyes and glared at him, “Do not patronize me. I may be a woman, but I will protect our people here, while you protect the king of Briton. I understand how precarious our situation is, even if you have not explained all of the politics.”

  “With enemies crowding on all sides, I have no need for such a tone from my family, Julia. ” His expression was harsh, but his hand was gentle on her shoulder. She looked away, breathing deeply to control her emotions..

  “Be careful Aelfreic,” she said softly, apologetically, “I do not think I would like to use your gift to kill.”

  Lord Aelfreic and his men had been gone nearly three months as Julia and Mary Ellery, the chandler’s wife, walked from the bayberry grove to the village. The heavy dew of late summer collected on their skirts and the crossbow bumped lightly against Julia’s leg, under her tunic.

  “Their days are nearly up, aren’t they my lady? Won’t the King have to send them home?” A bit of worry had settled into the back of Mary’s throat, edging out the laughter that had been there so recently.

  “Aye, most of the men have served their required 40 days or more to the King already. But he can ask his vassals to stay longer; in his last letter Aelfreic wrote that Harold was convincing many of the nobles to pledge their men for a few more weeks. Their stores are running low, though, they will have to disband soon or risk starvation for the camp and the surrounding reeves. And most will have to leave for harvest.”

  “But Aurelius is not a vassal, the King doesn’t hold tithe over our island. Aelfreic could bring the men home when he wishes, couldn’t he?” Julia could feel the quiet urgency of Mary Ellery’s voice. Her concerns were for her baby, her first two had died before breathing, and the third would come in only a few months. She did not wish to go through labor without her husband nearby. Neither Mary nor the islanders could comprehend that a Norman Duke would sail his men to Briton to depose a King. They had their own lives and worries, but they would serve their King if Harold called up the 40 days each free man owed. Julia was reluctant to press any more burdens on her own people; they had enough on their minds managing each day. The fears her brother had imparted to her before he left, and in his letters since, might not come to pass. So she ignored Mary’s question and passed the time until they reached the village with a story about Steward Galen’s granddaughter getting caught in the apple orchard kissing the young blacksmith.