‘I, too’ chipped in Harold.
‘And I,’ said Earl Ralph.
Edward looked at Godwin. ‘I agree,’ said the Earl, calmly.
The King surveyed the gathering. The earls were unanimous in their desperation to avoid war, which seemed inevitable if they followed their present course. His mind was already made up when de Jumieges leaned over to whisper in his ear, ‘Why not set the trial date soon, say the twenty-first of this month, then if they try and escape across the Channel, they’ll face God’s judgement in the equinox storms, my Lord.’ De Jumieges knew that even if they survived a Channel crossing in late September they would be outlawed. He was jubilant and so was the King, who was better by far at disguising it.
Edward addressed the Witan. ‘I think Earl Leofric’s proposition is a sound one.’ Looking to Godwin he ordered, ‘Earl Godwin, you and your sons will appear for trial on the twenty-first of this month at court in London.’
‘My sons! What have they done?’
You heard what I said, Earl Godwin. You and your sons will appear for trial in London on the twenty-first of this month.’
‘On what charge, my Lord?’
‘You will all be charged before you appear for trial. Now the Witan is dismissed. I will see you in London’
‘Hostages. Take some hostages.’ It was de Jumieges again, urgently whispering in the King’s ear.
‘In the meantime you will leave hostages with me.’
‘I will not!’
Edward gave Godwin a piecing look. ‘Would you disobey me, Godwin?’
‘No, my Lord. We will exchange hostages, as you desire.’
‘No, Earl Godwin, we won’t exchange hostages,’ Edward said with a smirk, ‘unless perhaps you would like to take the Queen.’
Godwin, though furious, was resigned to his fate. ‘I don’t think it will be necessary for me to take the Queen as hostage, my Lord. Perhaps you will accept my youngest son Wulfnoth and my young nephew Haakon.’
‘They will suffice.’
With that, the tension eased dramatically. The sound of excited talk filled the hall but it looked as though civil war had been averted, at least for the time being.
Later that day, as the earls and the nobles filed slowly out of the hall, Godwin found himself alongside Earl Leofric.
‘Thank you for your suggestion earlier, Leofric.’
‘My pleasure, Godwin.’
‘He’s a fine young man, your Aelfgar. He reminds me so much of Sweyn, all courage and vigour, always speaks his mind. You must be very proud of him.’
Leofric, surprised, simply smiled and nodded in agreement.
The King and the earls gathered up their armies and headed along the north bank of the Thames for London. Eustace and the clergy travelled with them. Godwin and his family travelled with their men to the south of the river.
Before they left, Ralph, Ansgar, Stigand and Malcolm Canmore paid Godwin a brief visit. They would have travelled with him but were too dependent on the King’s favour to show their feelings just yet. They did promise their support at the trial. It was reassuring for Godwin to know he still had some friends at court. Godwin shared his thoughts with his family as they travelled to London. ‘Edward is behaving like a truculent youth who on discovering he has some independence declares his parents useless and attempts to take over the running of the household.’
‘Do you think this is because Edward wants to keep all the power to himself?’ Harold asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Then what will happen when we get to London?’
‘We’ll be tried and we’ll all be found guilty.’
‘Of what?’
‘Rebellion and treason; it will depend on what de Jumieges can dream up.’
‘What can we do?’
‘Pack our bags. We need to be ready to leave the country at a moment’s notice. We need to get as many ships loaded as we can, ready to leave with our best and most trusted crews.’
‘They won’t be happy putting to sea around the equinox.’
‘There’s nothing else for it.’
Sweyn, having heard everything, joined in the conversation. ‘I shall go to Bristol, then. I have ships and crew there waiting to go to Dublin,’
‘May I go with him?’ asked Leofwine of his father.
‘Yes, Leofwine, go with Sweyn. Tostig, I want you to press on ahead with your men. I want you to gather as many of our valuables as you can at Bosham and be ready to leave. Take the women and children with you. And if you have the time, get someone to organise Waltham.’
‘I will, father,’ came the reply. He kicked his horse and he and his men set off at a canter for Bosham.
The small party, bitter and with growing despair, continued on its way to London.
Edward eyed the men around him: Leofric, Siward and Ralph and their men at arms, Count Eustace with all of his men, Osbern Pentecost and his comrade Hugh. Then there were the thanes and shire reeves he had called in. There must be three thousand men at arms. There were so many that they lined the riverbank between the Thames and the city wall for half a mile on either side of him. The clergy were also present to offer impartial advice, de Jumieges amongst them. Edward’s gaze drifted across the river to the small party on the other side. There were about a couple of hundred of them and Godwin himself appeared to be standing on a table calling to him, his words blown away on the wind like autumn leaves.
Seeing Stigand amongst the clergy, he instructed him to cross the bridge and summon Godwin to trial. Stigand forced his way through the crowd to his horse. It took the bishop ten minutes to make his way to the bridge, the clattering of his horse’s hooves on the wooden crossing sounding like a drum roll.
Stigand arrived hot and flustered, pink-faced and out of breath. He delivered his message haltingly. ‘Earl Godwin, you and your sons have been summoned by the King to appear for trial. Treason and rebellion are amongst the charges. I have been instructed to escort you. Will you come with me now?’
‘No,’ replied Godwin, eyeing Eustace and de Jumieges on the other bank, ‘unless I’m promised safe conduct and hostages. If the King complies with my request, I’ll gladly obey the summons if, and only if, I’m promised a lawful trial and the opportunity to purge myself of the crimes with which I’m charged. I’ll offer the satisfaction that the law demands; I’ll undergo the ordeal.’ Godwin would have to lift an iron bar from burning coal or take a stone out of a pot of boiling water. If, after three days there were no open wounds on his hands he would be found innocent. Should his wounds become infected, this would be taken as a sign of his guilt.
The shock of the offer turned Stigand’s face white. Dutifully, the ashen-faced bishop returned across the bridge and gave the message to the King, who rejected it outright.
Again Stigand crossed the river, feeling ever more foolish and ever more anxious, the urgency of the proceedings weighing heavily on his shoulders. The tension was rising and as he crossed the bridge the rap of ironclad hoof against wooden plank seemed to announce, more loudly than before, the approach of the intermediary. ‘Earl Godwin, I must tell you the King offers no assurances of any kind but demands all your followers offer themselves to his mercy.’
Godwin, crestfallen, turned to his men. ‘You heard, friends. I cannot guarantee your safety. The King requests your return and I won’t hold it against any man who leaves my side but am grateful for your loyalty thus far. Those of you who choose to stay will be made welcome by my family but I must warn you, I can offer nothing but hardship and danger and no more than a promise — the promise that one day we’ll return to our rightful place with our honour and dignity restored.’
To a man, all the thanes bowed their heads and, shame-faced, shuffled off. Only the housecarls stood firm. On the other side of the river there were thanes whose duty lay with their lords but who dearly would have liked to have been with Godwin.
‘Harold, make sure all of our horses are ready in case we need to make a hasty withdrawal,�
�� Godwin instructed.
Harold nodded in reply then headed towards the stables, taking Skalpi and Finn with him. By the time Stigand and the rebel thanes had reached the opposite riverbank, all the horses were ready to go. By then even the normally belligerent Sweyn could see this was a situation out of which they could not fight their way. ‘What do you think, Father?’ he asked forlornly.
‘Whatever happens today we can be sure it won’t be a fair trial. I see our enemies close to the King and wouldn’t be surprised if assassins lay in wait. Edward won’t grant us safe conduct and hostages, so it’s obvious once he has us, he won’t give us up. I had hoped I could meet each charge with my unsupported oath but I fear I should be assigned multiple oaths of an ordeal beyond my capability. Can you think what else we might be offered?’
Sweyn, for once, remained silent.
Once over the bridge, Godwin’s thanes were surrounded and disarmed by the King’s men. Stigand felt all the eyes of London on him, as he made his way slowly back through the pressing crowd, to the King.
‘Well, what did he say this time?’
‘You can see, my Lord, he has allowed the transportation of the rebels.’
‘I wager he couldn’t stop them. I’m only surprised there wasn’t a stampede when they heard they could get away. But what did he say?’
‘He says he still won’t cross without sureties.’
‘Ah, did he? Well, tell him this is his third and final summons to attend court and plead to the charges. If he doesn’t respond he will be contumacious and liable to penalties. And add that he can have his peace and pardon only if he restores to me my brother Alfred and all his companions. Now, off you go.’
Stupefied by the King’s final remark, Stigand carried out his instructions. Sick at heart and powerless to alter the course of events he was part of and yet distanced from, once more he rode his horse across the bridge. When he reached Godwin he wept. Godwin knew as soon as the bishop dismounted that his days as earl and kingmaker were over. Before Stigand could reach him he had climbed down from his table and as the distraught messenger approached him, threw his arm round him. ‘Whatever it is, my friend, this isn’t the end. Now be brave and tell me what news you have from the King.’
Through his tears Stigand relayed the message. Godwin’s head dropped; his chin on his chest, he took a deep breath turned, screamed toward heaven and pushed over the table on which he had been standing. Once he had regained his composure he bade his friend farewell and made for the stables, his sons and his men at his heels. Out of sight of the King they mounted their horses and fled. At Godwin’s manor only Stigand remained, weeping like a helpless child. He was still in tears when, fifteen minutes later, Robert de Jumieges and Eustace of Boulogne arrived with five hundred mounted soldiers.
During their flight to the coast Godwin’s family split into two parties: Godwin, his sons Sweyn, Tostig and Gyrth, with Archbishop Robert in pursuit, rode to Bosham and embarked for Flanders. Harold and Leofwine took the road to Bristol, where Sweyn had a ship prepared, ready to sail for Ireland. The morning after the flight Edward with his council and army declared the fugitives to be outlaws — Godwin and his family had refused to observe the law and were now deprived of its protection. Edward sent Bishop Ealdred in pursuit of those fleeing to the west but the bishop failed to catch the brothers.
Exile
It took Harold, Leofwine and their men two days’ hard ride to reach Bristol, leaving nothing behind them but clouds of dust, rumours and excitement in villages and towns along their way. It was a rare occurrence for a group of mounted men to pass through a town or village at all, let alone in such haste.
News of the family’s confrontation with the King had not yet reached the West Country, so once there, Harold and Leofwine felt little need for caution. Making enquiries at the quayside, they discovered Orm Erling, the Norse seaman Sweyn had engaged to take him to Ireland. He was small, with a high forehead, sharp eyes and a small face. He was the ugliest man the brothers had ever seen. As they informed him of the change of plan he remained expressionless, except for the darting of his little pig-like eyes. It was Harold and Leofwine, with their men, who would be sailing to Dublin. Sweyn, in a last-minute change of heart, seeing the family’s downfall as further punishment from God for his sins, had decided to set out on his penitential pilgrimage to Jerusalem. Arrangements were made with Captain Erling to meet the following day, just after dawn, to load the ships, ready to catch the morning tide.
After spending most of the night at Sweyn’s Bristol estate, organising and supervising the transport of the valuables, they headed down to the harbour. Arriving at the quayside the sight that greeted them came as a shock. The four ships, in which they were to travel to Ireland, were moored in a line. They were almost identical knarrs, all about fifty-five feet in length and fifteen feet wide. Into two of them, wretches the like of which Harold and Leofwine had never before seen were being loaded. One ship was almost filled with women, most of whom were pregnant. Into another were being loaded equally woeful-looking men. They were joined by rope neckties, the tell-tale sign of a slave. The captain was giving orders to his men. He saw the brothers approaching and walked over to greet them, giving them a broad grin through his huge yellow beard. ‘Good morning, my lords,’ he greeted them and slapped Harold on the back so hard he thought he had been kicked by a horse. ‘I see you’re ready for your journey. If you get your men and provisions,’ he nodded to the carts stuffed with valuables, ‘we’ll get underway.’
‘Good,’ said Harold. He then gave orders to transfer the goods onto the ships. In order to draw as little attention as possible to Sweyn’s treasure, it had been packed into old chests and barrels, which they hoped would not catch the eye of thieves.
‘I didn’t realise we would be crossing in so many ships,’ remarked Harold to Erling.
‘Oh, yes. There’s safety in numbers,’ came the reply.
‘I trust your men are discreet and reliable.’
‘I would trust them with my life.’
‘You seem very sure.’
‘I am. The helmsmen on the other ships are my sons.’
The goods were loaded, half on the ship in which Harold would sail, half on Leofwine’s, so at least something would be left if one of the ships sank. The men, closely observed by the Viking, did as instructed and then clambered on board, watched from the quayside by Harold, Leofwine and Orm Erling.
‘You look apprehensive,’ said Captain Erling to Harold. ‘Never been to sea before?’
‘Oh, I’ve sailed once or twice before, Captain.’
‘Good. But why do you look so concerned?’ asked Erling, following Harold’s gaze to the slave ships. ‘Oh I see, it’s the slaves you’re bothered about. Some of them do look a bit scrawny, don’t they? Your brother didn’t leave any instructions for feeding them. But don’t worry, you’ll get a good price for them in Dublin if you fatten ’em up a bit before they get to market.’
‘I wasn’t thinking about that.’
‘Suit yourself. We’ll sell them as they are, then.’
For a moment Harold said nothing.
‘Ah, I know what’s troubling you. Don’t worry, not one of them is English. Your brother Sweyn is a good man, he wouldn’t sell any English into slavery, no. They’re all Welsh,’ the Viking gave a huge grin of satisfaction and rubbed his hands together in glee. He was convinced he had spotted his employer’s discomfort and pleased he had reassured him at once. He was congratulating himself on his insightfulness when Harold asked his question.
‘How did they get here?’
‘Oh, Lord Sweyn brought ’em from Wales,’ he said knowingly. Erling might not have been a Christian but he knew enough about them to avoid any more trouble than he needed. ‘They’re all legal. Not one of them is to be sold in Wales itself. I know the law. ‘No Christian to be sold as a slave in his own country,’ he quoted. ‘Have to take ’em somewhere else. As there’s no demand in England these days, they’re g
oing to Dublin, where they’ll get a good price,’ he said with a grin.’
‘Why are so many of the women with child?’
‘They make a good bargain, they do! Two for the price of one!’ replied Erling, grinning, surprised at Harold’s ignorance. ‘If the buyer knows they’re fertile, he’s sure he can use them to breed from. Lord Sweyn’s gone to a lot of trouble to prove they’re fertile, he has,’ the captain guffawed.
‘What do you mean?’ asked Leofwine naively.
The Norseman looked at the women huddled together in the ship then with a glint in his eye and a grin on his face he turned to the brothers. ‘Looks like you two are soon likely to become uncles, ha, ha.’
Harold and Leofwine were shocked and the captain noticed. ‘Didn’t you know your brother’s been making a tidy sum out of this over the years?’ he asked slyly.
Leofwine answered, ‘I knew nothing of it.’
Erling was amazed at his innocence. ‘But this is Bristol; the place is built on slavery, everybody knows that. And that lot down there,’ he said pointing to the slaves, ‘are Welsh. Welsh means slave; everybody knows that an’ all, if you don’t mind me saying. So, it’s only natural.’
‘Well, I didn’t realise it still went on,’ was Leofwine’s limp response.
‘Oh yes, tradition dies hard with some. You can make a good living out of this,’ Erling said cheerily. ‘It’s always gone on and always will. Anyway, no time to stand around chatting like old maids, it’s time to catch the tide,’ and with that he jumped down into the first ship. The women cowered as he landed.
Leofwine, with his men, boarded the third ship and Harold turned to board his to find Skalpi hanging on to a boy of about eight years old by the scruff of his neck.
‘What are you doing with him, Skalpi?’
‘Found him snooping around the quay, my Lord.’
The boy sensed danger and struggled to escape. Holding him even more firmly, Skalpi told him to stop struggling.
‘He says he’s your brother Sweyn’s servant.’
‘Is that so, lad?’
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