Back on the south of the river, much to the amusement of the onlookers, Stigand and the Godwins were drinking wine together, seated at the very same table Godwin had toppled over the previous year. Calls and chants broke out from the crowd but were drowned out by the sound of church bells. It was as though all of London, every man, woman and child, every beast and every building was celebrating the family’s return.
‘This is a nice homecoming you’ve arranged for us, Stigand. It’s wasn’t necessary to go to these lengths, you know.’
‘What? Oh, the bell ringing. It’s the feast of the Holy Cross.’
‘And I thought they were celebrating my return,’ Godwin joked.
‘They are. Have you seen the turnout?’
‘Have I seen the turnout? I can’t see anything else! Thank you Stigand, I won’t forget this. How many of our men are on the other side?’ he asked in a more serious tone, nodding towards the north bank.
‘Over a thousand. Just about enough to overcome the King’s men. You could force your way across the bridge if you had to.’
‘How many men does Edward have?’
‘He has two hundred housecarls, plus the earls and their escorts, then there are the thanes at court and any men they might have with them; probably five or six hundred in all but more are arriving all the time and I understand many more are on the way.’
‘How willing are they to fight?’
‘If the King’s threatened, they will fight to the death to protect him.’
‘But there aren’t that many of them.’
‘No, but their ranks are growing. Time is against you, Godwin.’
‘Well, let’s get on with it, then,’ he said, rising to his feet.
‘What shall I tell the King?’ asked Stigand, also rising, as did the others, following their father’s lead.
‘Tell him my demands,’ Godwin responded.
‘Which are?’
‘They are what they have always been. I, that is to say we,’ indicating his sons, ‘demand the restoration of everything of which we have been deprived. And when I say we, I’m including Queen Edith. It’s as simple as that.’
‘De Jumieges says you want the throne to yourself.’
‘And I thought he wanted it! Tell Edward my demands,’ then as an afterthought he added, ‘and tell him I want de Jumieges’ head on a spike.’
‘That’ll go down well.’
‘But tell him I mean him no harm and make sure everyone hears you. It must be clear to everyone that the King is in no danger from any of us.’
‘Everyone who needs to know already does, my Lord.’
‘I had a feeling that was so,’ retorted Godwin with a wicked grin. ‘But it won’t hurt to remind them.’
The family walked over with Stigand to his horse and for the time being, bade him goodbye.
Edward and his party watched as Stigand climbed into the saddle and put his horse into a slow, loping canter across the bridge. Edward had to dampen the anger that burned inside as Stigand’s features became clear and he picked out a smile. The heat of the mid-September afternoon wore on.
Stigand dismounted and approached the King. Before he could say anything Edward called out, ‘Well?’
‘It is as we thought, my Lord. Earl Godwin wants nothing more than what was his returned to him. The same goes for the rest of the family.’
‘It’s a trick, my Lord,’ interjected de Jumieges. ‘He means to take the throne for himself.’
‘I can assure you, King Edward, Earl Godwin wants no such thing; all he wants is the reinstatement of his family and himself,’ Stigand paused for effect, ‘oh, and Archbishop de Jumieges’ head on a spike.’
‘What!’ shrieked de Jumieges and Edward simultaneously.
Leofric and Siward hid their smiles, as did some of the thanes. Others were not so considerate of the King.
‘I’m afraid so, my Lord,’ Stigand confirmed. ‘It seems Earl Godwin and his sons, have less than charitable feelings towards our beloved Archbishop.’
Edward turned and bellowed, ‘Siward! Leofric! What are you going to do about this?’
The two earls looked at each other, each waiting for the other to reply; as Siward had done most of the talking, Leofric left him to answer for them both.
‘My lord, as you know we have only our escorts. For you we would gladly give our lives and we will always ensure your personal safety. Earl Godwin has given his word he means you no harm. You are in no danger, my Lord.’
‘But what about me? What about me?’ screeched de Jumieges in alarm.
‘Ah, now that might present us with some difficulties. Perhaps a stealthily executed withdrawal might be your best course of action, Archbishop.’
There was something about the way Stigand emphasised the word executed, which disturbed de Jumieges.
‘A what?’ demanded de Jumieges.
‘Well, for the time being, a pragmatic approach to your difficulties might best serve your interests.’
‘You do mean for me to run away?’
‘You would live to fight another day.’
‘And what if I don’t? What if I stay and choose to fight today?’
‘Then I am afraid there’s nothing to stop Earl Godwin sticking your head on a spike if the fancy takes him. Our duty is to protect the King.’
Edward then addressed Stigand: ‘I think your good friend Godwin is bluffing. He wouldn’t dare risk attacking me. It’s just more posturing, more histrionics. He’s just a cockerel crowing and strutting on the riverbank, nothing more.’
Stigand’s face grew pale.
Edward continued, ‘This is just a show and he thinks I’ll back down. Well, go and tell him and his pack of thieving dogs to get out of here at once. I will not meet their demands. They’ll leave on the next tide or they will never leave at all, unless to enter the next world. And if they choose to stay, their departure will be all the sooner.’
‘Are you certain that’s the message you want me to convey, my Lord?’ the gravity of Edward’s response settling in his stomach like lead.
‘It is. Now go.’
‘Very well, my Lord,’ Stigand responded sombrely. He turned, walked over to his horse and remounted. Within two minutes he was talking to Godwin.
‘The King will meet none of your demands. He wants you to leave on the next tide or you will all be killed. He thinks you’re bluffing.’
‘Does he? What if we won’t go? What will he do?’
Stigand shrugged resignedly.
‘You know, my friend, I think it’s Edward who’s bluffing.’
‘He seems set, my Lord.’
‘Well, we’ll soon see about that.’
Godwin made a signal to the captain of his leading ship. Instructions were shouted down the line and a frenzy of activity followed. Within moments, oars were produced, ships cast off as one and Godwin’s fleet encircled the King’s navy.
Above the sound of the bells, above any other yelling, above all the noise of the city, again the chant was taken up on both banks of the river, ‘Godwin! Godwin! Godwin!’
Archbishop de Jumieges stood upright in the cart, proud and erect, and started chanting, ‘Edward! Edward!’ No one joined in. For the first time since taking the crown, King Edward felt truly vulnerable. This rendezvous with reality turned his mind into a whirlpool of thoughts and fears, none of which served any useful purpose. He turned to speak to de Jumieges but the Archbishop had slipped away. Looking around he noticed all the other Norman members of court had disappeared. In the warmth of the late summer sun, sitting on his throne, the King looked decidedly uncomfortable.
‘Siward! Leofric! What are we to do?’
‘Perhaps, my Lord, you might reconsider your offer to Godwin,’ answered Earl Siward, above the din of the chanting crowd. Spotting the King’s reluctance, he drove the point home. ‘What would be your alternative, my Lord?’
‘Godwin! Godwin! Godwin!’ chanted the crowd, drowning out any other sound.
Realising his cause was lost Edward beckoned his nephew to approach him. Climbing up on to the wagon Earl Ralph leaned over, the better to hear.
‘Go over, Ralph, and tell Godwin I’ll meet his demands. Tell him the Witan will meet tomorrow, here, where we are now and I’ll talk with him then. Stay over there as a hostage so that he will know I’ll keep my word. Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll come to no harm,’ Edward reassured Ralph, noticing the look of woe on his face.
No one in the Godwin camp was aware of the rapid departure of most of the court’s Norman contingent. No one had any real idea if the campaign was going their way or if Edward would call their bluff but when a rider was spotted crossing the bridge everyone guessed there had been a major turning-point in the proceedings.
‘Can you make out who it is?’ asked Godwin of everyone in general.
‘It’s Ralph,’ answered Harold, ‘I’d know that riding style anywhere.’
‘Yes, you’re right, it is Earl Ralph,’ agreed Godwin.
‘He rides very well, doesn’t he?’
Godwin eyed the rider, noted the position of the legs, the hands, the way he sat in the saddle and the ease in which he controlled his mount. He also noticed the way the horse responded; he had to agree. ‘Yes, he’s a fine rider. It’s a pity he can’t do anything else so well.’
‘He’s still young and has a lot to learn. He’s a kind-hearted and generous man, father.’
‘It’s you who’s a kind hearted and generous man, Harold, to express so high an opinion of him. You do know he’s called Ralph the Timid, don’t you?’
‘I’d heard he’d acquired a nick-name, yes.’
As father and son continued, almost absentmindedly, to discuss Earl Ralph’s merits, he grew ever closer; the horse’s hooves’ drum roll on the bridge now almost seemed a natural part of the proceedings. Earl Ralph brought his horse to a halt before them and dismounted, handing the reins to one of Godwin’s servants.
‘Good day, Earl Ralph.’
‘Good day, Earl Godwin,’ responded Ralph, looking a little wary. He was unsure of the welcome he might receive as one of the commanders who had tried to intercept Godwin in the Channel. Would he be seen as an enemy?
‘I take it you have some news.’
‘I do, my Lord. King Edward will call the Witangemot tomorrow. He requests your presence. He’ll meet your demands.’
The family cheered, jumping for joy and laughing as they hugged each other.
‘I knew he would come to his senses,’ Godwin exclaimed.
‘In the meantime I am to be your hostage.’
‘Consider yourself our guest, Ralph,’ welcomed Godwin.
‘Care for some wine?’ offered Harold.
Sensing Godwin’s victory the crowd let out a mighty cheer. Relief and happiness spread throughout the city; Godwin was back and there would be no war. Everyone was happy, save one. Edward’s friend Robert de Jumieges had slipped away, leaving Edward humiliated and despondent, an island of sorrow set all alone in a sea of joy. Amidst the happiness that flowed all around, he sat in misery upon his throne.
At about mid-morning the following day, after Edmund had blessed them, Godwin and Harold left their home in Southwark with an escort of a dozen housecarls. Feeling confident, if vigilant, they rode across the bridge. Looking down at the river below they could see the navy still encircled by their ships. Behind them, lining the riverbank, their soldiers looked on.
The party approached the Witan through a quiet and expectant crowd. It was as though no one could believe his good fortune; as though the natural order had been restored without bloodshed. Could it be true? Through the morning rumours had spread like wildfire through the dark and narrow streets, from house to house, inn to inn. The rumours told of the return of de Jumieges, with a large force of soldiers. Some people were said to have seen omens while others had claimed they had seen a fleet heading up river.
Godwin and Harold approached the Witan, which was meeting in the open air. When they were just outside the city walls they could see other earls waiting for them, as were the church hierarchy and the King. Edward sat in state, white-faced and anxious-looking upon his throne, raised above them on a plinth. Before him and a little to his right, standing on the bare ground, was Bishop Stigand. In his hand he held the shaft of the ceremonial axe; the head rested at his feet.
The Witan remained hushed, not a word of greeting passed anyone’s lips. Godwin and Harold dismounted, as did Skalpi, Finn and Gauti. The rest of the housecarls remained on their mounts at the edge of the scene. Father and son approached the King but Edward indicated with his hand for Harold to halt; he did so and Godwin continued on his way, stopping when he was level with Stigand, who presented him with the ceremonial axe.
Godwin, with both hands outstretched, supported the axe across them. He took five paces forward and laid it at the King’s feet. Kneeling there in homage, he then raised his head and begged to clear his sons and himself of all charges.
In response Edward said nothing but sat impassive, stone-faced on the throne.
‘My lord,’ implored Godwin, ‘I beseech you, in the name of the crown you wear and the highest and greatest signs that makes up its ornament, the Holy Cross of Christ. Will you grant my sons and me a hearing before the Witenagemot?’
It pained Godwin to grovel like this and he hoped the onlookers took his actions as a genuine sign of respect of a subject for his king. It galled Godwin all the more because Edward was his son-in-law and owed his position to him.
Collecting himself he continued, ‘I put it to you that my sons and I have never been formally tried as the law demands. I am convinced, my Lord, you have been badly counselled and I hope you will hear what the family has to say in its defence.’
From just within earshot Harold heard everything his father said and could detect each minute change of expression on Edward’s face; by the look of it Edward in his own way felt just as humiliated as Godwin. The Witan’s decision was a foregone conclusion. The crowd welcomed Godwin’s return and the English earls preferred him to the King’s foreign faction. Edward overlooked the illegality of his own actions and put his present situation down to Godwin’s audacity. He saw himself coerced into going through some bizarre ancient ceremony, all in order to facilitate the reinstatement of a scoundrel and his family of rogues.
Edward, rigid faced, looked down at Godwin. He thought how much he’d like to kick him in the head and then began to wonder if he could get away with it. Something made him look up; there was Harold looking at him studiously, reading him like a book. It made things worse. Now he felt embarrassed as well as trapped.
But Harold was more concerned about his father and what he was suffering than any urges Edward might have to restrain. A proud man humbled before the King, before everyone, as he supplicated for a fair hearing for his family. Harold had never so admired his father as in this moment; the King he abhorred.
It was soon clear that Edward was swayed by the argument; there were no charges against the Earl or his family who, all that time ago, had acted in the best interests of the people of Dover. Edward knew in his heart he had been the victim of a conspiracy; he had taken bad advice and this was the result. He also knew things might have been far worse.
The King reverted to wearing the countenance of the gentle, saintly man of popular acclaim. It was with an air of resignation he rose out of his throne, took up the axe and laid it before Godwin in a token of friendship. There was an enormous cheer from the crowd, hats flew in the air, smiles broke out on all the faces and the relief felt by everyone was tangible. Once again London was filled with the sound of bells ringing in joyful celebration.
The King and Earl exchanged the Kiss of Peace. Edward stepped back up on to the dais, turned and addressed the Witan.
‘It is with great joy I pardon Earl Godwin and his family from any crimes or misdemeanours of which they might have been accused and I ask you, members of the Witan, to endorse this pardon, so that Earl
Godwin and his family might resume their rightful places in our court and in our society.’
The Witan endorsed the royal pardon with barely a word said. Once more Godwin was Earl of Wessex, Harold was Earl of East Anglia and Queen Edith returned to court. Now the dispute had been resolved, the King and Earl Godwin walked along the river to the palace at Westminster, and London looked on in glee. Godwin asked the question which above all he wanted answered. ‘Can you tell me, my Lord, when I might see Wulfnoth and Haakon?’
‘I am sorry, Earl Godwin; I fear they’re with Robert.’
‘De Jumieges! What are they doing with him? They were entrusted to your care.’
‘I delegated the responsibility.’
‘But why de Jumieges?’
‘While you were away he was so very helpful. He’s a very capable man and his offer to educate them seemed generous at the time.’
‘We must press for their return.’
‘Rest assured, I shall do all I can to ensure you have them back.’
Crossing
At mid-morning three days after his narrow escape from England, Robert de Jumieges was waiting patiently for Duke William of Normandy, along with the rest of the Norman court, in the great hall of Falaise Castle. He was casting a critical eye over the members of court when his attention was caught by a door suddenly flying open as the mud-spattered Duke entered, his spurs clanking on the floor. As usual he was flanked by his four closest companions - William Warenne, like a faithful dog, always at his master’s side, William fitzOsbern, who like Warenne was nearly always in the company of the Duke, Walter Gifford and Hugh de Grantmesnil. They too were covered in mud spats from head to foot.
The Duke marched over to his place at the dais, slapping his gauntlets into his left hand as he did so. His companions followed after him. ‘Excuse my lateness but I’ve been out hunting’, the Duke explained. ‘Had no luck, though.’
Duke William stared around at the gathering as if looking for quarry as he and his comrades strode over to the ducal throne. He and his companions placed their gauntlets on the table, each taking a goblet of wine from a servant as they sat down. The Duke took a sip of the drink and reclined. All heads were bowed, the eyes of their owners looking toward the hard stone floor. Only Robert risked a peep. No one spoke.
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