‘Yes it is, my Lord.’
‘Then what are you doing here?’
‘Keeping an eye on my Lord’s treasure.’
‘Keep your voice down. Is that clear?’ hissed Harold, in a whisper.
‘Yes, my Lord.’
‘So you’re here to look after my brother’s things, are you?’
‘Yes, my Lord.’
‘Well, we’re about to take them to Ireland. What do you think of that?’
‘When my Lord Sweyn finds out about it he’ll have somethin’ to say.’
‘You think so?’
‘Yes, I do, my Lord.’
‘Well, I’m his brother Earl Harold and that man over there is his other brother Leofwine and we’re going to look after his belongings while he’s out of the country. We’re going to keep them safe. Understand?’
‘Yes, my Lord,’ the boy replied but he looked as though he had serious misgivings.
‘You’d better run on home, then.’
‘Haven’t got a home.’
‘I thought you said you were Sweyn’s servant.’
‘I am but I don’t really have a home.’
‘Where are your parents?’
‘I don’t have any.’
‘So how did you become my brother’s servant?’
‘He found me in a village after the Welsh had raided. I was the sole survivor. He took me in, God bless him.’
Harold was staggered. He couldn’t remember the last time Sweyn had shown anyone a kindness. ‘What will you do if we leave you here?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know. I reckon I’ll find somethin’, though.’
‘How do you fancy a trip to Ireland?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Well, you can come with us and be my servant until Sweyn returns or you can hang around here. Which is it to be?’
‘I’ll come with you, my Lord.’
‘Good. You’d better climb aboard, then.’
The boy did as instructed and climbed into Harold’s ship.
‘What’s your name, lad?’ asked Harold.
‘Bondi, my Lord.’
‘Welcome aboard, Bondi.’
When they were all safely aboard, Erling gave the order and the four ships cast away on the ebb tide. Erling’s three sons, each at the helm of his ship, with a crewman at each of the six oars, rowed them comfortably downstream on the fast-flowing river. Harold, Leofwine and most of their men crossed themselves as the ships began to move.
‘You’ll need to do that an’ all,’ shouted Erling from the helm of the lead ship. He had turned round to check that all was well with his little fleet. Christians amused him. ‘And while you’re at it, pray to Odin and Njord. At this time of the year the sea can cut up pretty rough. We’ll need all the help we can get.’
As they moved down-river, Harold looked at the ship-load of women heading towards God knew what. Most of them looked like animals going to slaughter. They had never seen a town the size of Bristol or so many vessels or ships so big. Those who were able had crossed themselves; others had made an attempt or mumbled a prayer. They made a depressing sight to Harold, dirty and dressed in rags that hung limply over swollen bellies. They had barely enough to keep themselves alive, let alone nourish a baby. He thought of Edyth and of how she looked when she was pregnant. Where was she now? Safely in Flanders, he hoped.
The miserable little convoy was carried out to the Severn Estuary mostly by the power of the tide. Each ship floated effortlessly with the current. Out in the Bristol Channel the slaves looked even more desperate as the sails were hoisted, unfurled and filled with wind, signalling a final farewell to their freedom.
The powerful tide pushed them westward, along the Welsh coast, with a casual speed that amazed the captives. Looking back at their homeland, the slaves left their hearts behind and a bleak mood descended on them. Most of these unfortunate souls had never before left their village, let alone their country, in their lives.
And so through the late summer’s day the voyagers made their way steadily towards Ireland. Two days later Harold and Leofwine were in the court of Diarmait Macmael-Na-Mbo, King of Leinster.
Edward’s England
The week after Godwin’s flight into exile, King Edward celebrated in his great hall at Westminster, sitting on the throne without fear of contradiction or embarrassment. He leaned over to de Jumieges. ‘Robert, do you think anyone in England can believe what’s happened? How the mighty have fallen.’
De Jumieges was surprisingly quiet; he was well aware that if Godwin should ever make a successful return, he could expect no mercy. Knowing how many times Sweyn had managed to return from banishment, he now urged on Edward measures designed to block the exiles’ restoration forever.
‘This is what I think, my Lord,’ answered de Jumieges. ‘Godwin and his sons are no longer earls but his daughter is still Queen. Although most of her family is banished from the country, they’re probably planning their return as we speak. They were plotting to kill you and might yet succeed. We need to take steps to ensure this never occurs.’
Edward was surprised. ‘What have you in mind?’
‘Earl Ralph now holds the shires of Hereford, Gloucester, Oxford and Berkshire. You yourself hold the earldoms of Godwin, Harold and Sweyn. Why not divide the spoils and acquire some loyalty?’
‘What do you have in mind, Robert?’
‘Odda of Deerhurst has been a faithful servant, my Lord. Why not grant him some of Godwin’s shires?’
‘Which ones?’
‘Cornwall, Devon, Dorset and Somerset would be appropriate, don’t you think?’
‘Yes that’s possible,’ replied the King, a little taken aback.
‘Earl Leofric’s son, Aelfgar, needs more experience in the exercise of power. Wouldn’t East Anglia be appropriate for him?’
‘It would make Earl Leofric happy but what will that leave me, Robert?’
‘You would have Wiltshire, Hampshire, Surrey, and Sussex for yourself.’
‘And Kent, Robert. What about Kent?’
‘I would love you to have Kent, my Lord, but I think it more fitting for the Church to take possession. The monks at Canterbury are having such a difficult time of late.’
‘Oh, well. It always gives me pleasure to help the church.’
‘Thank you, my Lord. And about the other adjustments?’
‘What other adjustments?’
‘Well, there is the Church to reform and as I’m forbidden from consecrating Spearhavoc, I’m afraid he will have to go. We can’t have an unconsecrated Bishop of London.’
‘But he’s working on my new crown.’
De Jumieges gave Edward a disapproving look.
‘I suppose you’re right,’ admitted the King. ‘As usual.’
‘I suggest William, your household clerk, will make an excellent bishop.’
‘You think so?’
‘Oh, yes. Then there is the question of the Queen. I had assumed you would divorce her, and then exile her along with the others.’
‘What! Divorce her? No, I’ll never do that.’
‘My Lord is subtle. You have another plan?’
‘No. No I don’t. I could never divorce her. It’s as simple as that. Besides, I have no grounds.’
‘I’m sure we could think of some,’ replied a perplexed and resentful de Jumieges. He hadn’t planned a coup just to have the King lose everything he had strived to achieve.
‘No. There has to be another way,’ continued Edward.
De Jumieges paused for thought. ‘How would you feel if she were to enter a nunnery, just for a while, while we decide her fate?’
Now it was Edward’s time to pause for thought. After a moment of contemplation he agreed with de Jumieges. ‘We could send her back to Wilton Abbey. She can have a royal escort and all the royal honour that befits her.’
‘Naturally, my Lord. Of course she’ll have no need of her lands or movables once she’s there. Under English law I imagine the
y would revert to the Crown?’
‘Yes, I’m sure they would,’ agreed Edward with glee.
‘Would she stay there a long time, my Lord?’
‘Well, forever, I thought.’
‘Oh.’
‘What is it, Robert?’
‘Well, there is the matter of your successor to consider, surely. If you don’t provide one, someone else might.’
‘Sometimes I think you worry too much. God will provide, Robert, it has been foretold.’
‘Foretold, my Lord?’
‘Yes. In the times when the Danes were running amok all over England, Bishop Brightwold fled to Glastonbury for safety. Once there he prayed to God to rid the country of the barbarians and bring peace back to the nation. That night he had a dream in which St. Peter crowned me then told him that God would provide a successor. So you see Robert, God will provide.’
And so England settled into the new order. The earldoms of East Anglia and Wessex were divided amongst Edward’s loyal followers. Godwin, exiled in Flanders, sent emissaries to Edward asking for peace and a lawful trial. The Count of Flanders and the King of France interceded on his behalf but Edward paid no heed. Finally, he had things his own way; even court business was conducted in French. Life had never been sweeter.
The Return of the Exiles
In England, Edward was planning for the future but it was the death of Queen Emma as much as Godwin’s banishment which provoked a break with the past. Oddly enough, Edward laid his mother to rest not beside his father Ethelred but beside her second husband and conqueror of his father, King Knut. Edward saw himself happily burying the last of the connections with the Danish dynasty and at the beginning of a new era, but in Wessex more and more people were coming to look on Edward’s removal of Godwin and his family as unjust.
The people of East Anglia were of the same opinion as those in Wessex. It was never spoken of at court but in the great halls across the country many believed Edward was behaving illegally. Unaware of all this, Edward floated on a sea of calm. He felt secure after the expulsions but aware of how much he still depended on the support of Leofric, Aelfgar and Siward, at least for the time being. He also needed the support of other men but these he overlooked, men such as Ansgar and Stigand, who were not a part of the inner sanctum. There were others too whom Edward failed to heed; these were the men in the shires, like Azur in Gloucestershire and Merleswein in Lincolnshire and Edric in Essex. While Edward relaxed in his hall these friends of Godwin worked towards his downfall.
Edward had, by way of securing his loyalty, given Harold’s earldom to Aelfgar Leofricson. This, he thought, would probably be enough to deal with any attacks the exiles might inflict on the east coast. Odda and Ralph, neither of them experienced sailors, were to protect the south with the navy’s fleet of forty ships. Having discovered Harold and Leofwine were in Dublin, he also arranged a military command to prepare for any attack on the southwest. Edward was happy in his belief that his kingdom was secure.
In East Anglia Harold’s friend, Edric of Laxfield, had been prominent in organising sympathisers and providing shelter for any of Harold’s men still left in the country, and Gauti was busy running messages from one group to another. Ansgar, enthusiastic about seeing the return of his friends Godwin and Harold, had many a quiet and subtle word in the ear of Leofric and Siward, as did Stigand. Seeds of doubt were sown in their minds as to how safe their positions would be in the new order. True, Aelfgar might now be an earl had they not seen with their own eyes just how easy it was to remove a troublesome nobleman from court, even one as powerful as Godwin? The new Norman elite were gaining power in court and in the Church. Was it really for the common good? Did they think that so many foreigners, ignorant of English customs, should have so much control? Where would it all end? Speculation was rife.
Ansgar and Stigand soon realized that the two earls would be very reluctant to take up weapons against fellow countrymen and risk their own lives to defend the new order. Even their sons were in agreement; Aelfgar’s and Osbern’s hatred of the Normans far outweighed any bad feeling they had towards Godwin. It was evident they would, however, be quick to defend their king, if his person were threatened.
Over the late spring and early summer private armies were raised in Ireland and Flanders. Godwin was busy negotiating with allies in England. Messages came and went this way and that across the English Channel. Godwin’s men travelled the roads and rivers of England visiting sympathisers and friends. The response was encouraging and led the Earl to believe he would have a strong following. In late June Godwin sailed with three ships from Flanders. Slipping past the English navy at Sandwich he landed at Dungeness in Kent. Stepping on to English soil for the first time in nearly a year he received a rapturous welcome and an encouraging response to his propositions.
But Ralph and Odda, if inexperienced, were determined commanders. They moved their ships to attack Godwin and forced him to retreat before them to Pevensey. However, the campaign was halted by a westerly gale which blew both fleets back up the Channel. Godwin returned to Bruges and his adversaries to London, with what was left of the fleet, to claim a great victory. The King summoned them to his chambers.
‘Welcome back, my Lords. What have you to report? Total victory? Annihilation of my enemy? A resounding defeat for Godwin?’
‘We chased him off, my Lord,’ replied Ralph, with what he thought was a winning smile. He just looked foolish. ‘We shan’t see him again.’
‘How many ships were in his fleet?’
‘Oh, easily six or seven, perhaps more.’
‘How many did you have?’
‘Forty, my Lord,’ said Earl Ralph. Earl Odda remained silent.
‘And you couldn’t capture him?’
‘We would have, but for the storm.’
‘Oh, the storm. And what do you think he’ll do now?’
‘Stay away, I should think.’
‘How was he treated in Kent?’
‘It has to be said he’s still popular there, my Lord.’
‘Still popular! As popular as I am?’
‘Oh, I doubt it, my Lord.’
‘You doubt it. I doubt if you have any idea at all. Godwin comes back to Kent in a few ships — I understand there were only three — and with the entire English fleet at your disposal you couldn’t catch him. You just get yourselves caught in a storm and return leaving half my navy at the bottom of the sea.’
‘Less than half, my Lord. I think we came back with lots of ships.’
‘Do you? Most of them have sails in tatters, lost oars, broken masts, and that is to say nothing of men overboard and the two ships that capsized in the estuary on the way home! See to it any damaged vessels are repaired and then organise more ships and crews to man them.’
‘Certainly, my Lord.’
‘You’ve said nothing, Odda. Why?’
‘There’s nothing to add to what Earl Ralph has said, except that Godwin must have suffered damage to his ships too. And for all we know, he’s at the bottom of the sea.’
‘Why did you not follow him and sink him?’
Ralph and Odda turned and looked at each other. Their expressions conveyed their thoughts; they were completely blank. Lacking inspiration they turned once more to the angry face of their king. It was Ralph who spoke. ‘We’re sorry, uncle.’
‘Refit the damaged ships, order another dozen new ones and find crews.’
The two earls were rooted to the spot.
‘Well, what are you waiting for?’
They left, red-faced, heads bowed in shame. Soon they would be the laughing stock of all England and Godwin a hero.
‘And I’ll see if I can find some new commanders,’ shouted Edward after them, ‘who know what they’re doing.’
Ralph and Odda could hear him ranting to himself as they left.
From Bruges, once his vessels were refitted, Godwin sailed directly to the Isle of Wight with a fleet of twenty ships. Once there he helped himself to
supplies and provisions. In all his raids not one of the locals came to any harm. From his island base he sent out ships along the southwest to spy along the coast.
In late August, father and sons joined forces on the shore at Portland. Before the ships had even beached, all four sons leaped over the sides and ran towards each other; they were jumping around like puppies by the time Godwin caught up with them.
‘Harold. Leofwine. It’s so good to see you,’ he said, a little out of breath.
‘Father!’ they called in unison. Letting go of their brothers, Harold and Leofwine grabbed their father in simultaneous bear hugs and squeezed out what little air was left in him. Noticing his colour change, they let go to allow him time to get his breath back.
‘It’s so good to see you both again,’ the old man gasped. ‘Let’s make camp here for the night. We’ll feast under the stars and you can tell me all about Ireland.’
Godwin and Harold signalled instructions to their fleets; the captains turned the longships and beached them on the shore. Rollers were brought out of each craft and laid upon the beach. The crews then hauled the ships up onto the safety of the shore. Shelters were made with the sails. Barrels of pickles, smoked goods, salted pork and preserves were produced as well as beer, mead and wine. Wood was collected and fires started. Half a dozen sheep and a couple of pigs, courtesy of Earl Godwin, were soon roasting. Harold approached him. ‘Father, there’s something you must know.’
‘Go on,’ said Godwin.
‘Coming over from Ireland we landed in Porlock in Devon to get supplies and the local thane, who took his allegiance to King Edward very seriously, challenged us. He ordered my men to go but told Leofwine and me that we were his prisoners and would be taken to London before the King. I explained to him that soon we would be reinstated and he really ought to go home, which he did before returning with five hundred men. When they attacked us we defeated them without much effort. The thane and about thirty of his men were killed.’
‘Did you lose any men?’
‘No, and no one wounded.’
‘What else could you have done?’
‘Well, nothing.’
‘So, it’s done now and can’t be undone. When we’re restored to power we’ll compensate the widows. Don’t dwell on this, Harold. It wasn’t your fault. Now come with me. You must need a drink and something to eat.’
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