‘Your men behave like the animals Gruffydd says they are.’
‘Gruffydd would know all about men behaving like animals and as for your father, he had a duty to protect the people of Mercia, instead of which he helped your husband put them to death.’
‘They did no such thing,’ she replied, raising her voice, her cheeks growing red and her eyes blazing.
‘You are unlucky with men, aren’t you?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Your father was a treacherous villain and your husband’s a coward.’
‘My husband is no coward,’ she snapped, feeling at a disadvantage and wishing she were dressed.
‘Then where is he now?’
‘How should I know?’
‘He’s sailing off across the Irish Sea. He left you, his children and his people in the hands of his enemies who, according to him, are animals. He abandoned you, left you to your fate.’
Harold was within inches of her, their bodies almost touching, their eyes looking directly into each other’s. Even while he was rebuking her, he felt drawn to her. Her pale face, framed by tendrils of raven hair, looked delicate, her cheek bones prominent, her button nose only slightly upturned and her heart-shaped face with a jaw-line that met at a delicate pointed chin. She had a perfectly formed, generously proportioned mouth. He remembered she had always had a dazzling smile. For a moment he considered pulling the bedclothes off her.
They were almost touching now and she thought for a moment he was going to kiss her. She drew her head back.
‘You wouldn’t.’
‘No, I wouldn’t. But then I’m not Gruffydd, am I?’
Turning to his brother, Harold asked, ‘What should we do with her, Leo, take her with us or leave her here?’
‘She’d make a fine hostage.’
‘She’d slow us down, though, don’t you think?’
‘Well, she can’t stay here.’
‘Why not?’
‘Well, after we’ve burned the place down there’ll be nowhere to take shelter.’
‘How dare you discuss me as though I weren’t here?’
‘There’ll be a nice fire to keep them all warm, though,’ said Harold, ignoring Aldytha.
‘You’re brutes.’
‘No. We’d be brutes if we burned the place down with you still in it. I suggest you pack what you can. You have a long journey ahead.’
‘Then you are taking me with you?’
‘No, but this place seems a long way from anywhere.’
‘You’re not just going to turn me out in the middle of winter?’
‘Looks like it. I suggest you have a word with your maid, if she’s not too busy. Leo, once they’ve finished what they’re doing, get some of the men together and torch the place.’
‘And their ships?’
‘Skalpi’s taking care of them. Just torch this place.’
‘It’ll be a pleasure.’
‘Lady Aldytha, in about an hour from now everything here will be going up in flames. I suggest you’re gone by then.’
Lady Aldytha said nothing but turned and left for her quarters.
Harold’s eyes followed her as she made her way to a doorway. He could not help but notice the sway of her hips. On impulse he called out after her, ‘Shall I convey your regards to your family when I get back to England?’
‘Bastard!’
‘Merry Christmas,’ Harold replied.
There had been a change of mood at court. Edwin had soon noticed Harold was missing and it had not taken him very long to discover why. He felt put out because someone else had been given his job. He felt aggrieved that he had not even been invited along. Yet Earl Leofwine, who had in Edwin’s opinion little to boast about, had joined Harold in order to steal some glory. He mentioned this to his brother Morcar in a tavern one afternoon as they were discussing court politics. By chance, Earl Cospatric arrived with Gamel and Dolfin. Naturally they joined in the conversation and found they had similar views. Once again Edwin complained about being usurped.
‘How do you think I feel?’ Cospatric complained. ‘My Lord’s blood brother ransacked my earldom and I’ve hardly got a candlestick to my name.’
The conversation continued in the same vein for the rest of the afternoon. Finally, the companions made their way to the King’s hall for the evening meal. But before he went down to dine, Cospatric spent some time ruminating in his chambers, staring blankly at the wall, mulling over the day’s events. As he lay on his bed with a goblet of wine in his hand, a series of thoughts struck him. He knew Leofwine had decided of his own accord to join his brother and he knew they got on well. But Harold and Tostig were the best of friends as well as brothers. Why then did Tostig not go to Wales?
Cospatric thought about the amount of time Tostig spent with Edward. The Godwinsons never missed a meeting of the Witan but unlike Tostig, the rest went back to their various homes afterwards. Tostig could be with the King for months at a time. True, they both loved hunting, but so did Harold, Gyrth and Leofwine. Tostig enjoyed good relations with his sister, the Queen, but so did the others. Admittedly, Tostig and she were twins but surely that did not account for all the time he spent with Edward. There was something else, he felt sure. The two were more like father and son than friends. Then, like a thunderbolt it struck him. It explained everything; Tostig was Edward’s surrogate son! Come to think of it, Edward never had much to do with Edgar the Atheling. The boy might be brought up at court under the watchful eye of Queen Edith but so were most of the earls’ children and those of the wealthier thanes. Edward never mentioned Edgar, but Tostig he talked about often.
Cospatric was now sitting bolt upright in bed; on his face he wore the shocked look of a person who has just had a revelation. Edward was grooming Tostig as his heir. Edward loved him like a son and like a son he would bequeath to him all that was his, including the crown.
Cospatric imagined the scene at the Witan if it Edward were to name Tostig his successor. If Tostig had Edward’s blessing, what would happen then? Harold might oppose him but who would support him? The other two brothers might take Tostig’s side but the family, to say nothing of the country, would be split and if it came to civil war, who in the North would support Tostig? He was not popular, as was Harold in the South. Perhaps Harold would take the throne by force. But suppose Harold didn’t want to risk civil war, supposing he was content to remain an earl? Tostig would be king and presumably run the entire country in the way he had the North, like a bloody tyrant. But what if Edward named no one and died tomorrow? Cospatric resolved to have a private audience with the King at the earliest opportunity. The following day he went to Edward to ask him to name him as his heir.
‘Will you support my claim?’
‘There is the Atheling Edgar to consider.’
‘Surely my claim is the stronger?’
‘Nephew, you are, as we all know, a man of courage and without doubt a fine warrior. Naturally I understand your concern for the country’s safety after my eventual demise but whilst you are the great-grandson of a king, Edgar, I am afraid, is the grandson of a king and that makes his claim a little stronger.’
‘But I’ve always lived in England and I’m English. And look at the whelp; what chance has a child of running a country, defending us from our enemies?’
Cospatric’s and Edward’s eyes met. In that moment Cospatric knew he would never be considered an atheling, at least not by Edward. The question now for Cospatric was what to do about it? On his long journey home he would have lots of time to dwell on the question and time would provide him with an answer.
After the Christmas court he returned home with Wulf Dolfinson and Gamel Ormson as his guests. In a dark room illuminated with the flicker of firelight, Cospatric shared his thoughts with them.
‘At Gloucester I had a private audience with the King. I asked him if he would consider me as his successor.’
Both men listened attentively. It was Wulf who asked the question.
; ‘What did he say?’
‘Nothing, he won’t name a successor.’
‘Don’t tell me he said, “The Lord will provide”.’
‘That’s more or less the gist of it.’
‘But he has Edgar in mind, surely.’
‘No.’
‘Who, then?’
‘Tostig.’
‘Tostig! Don’t be daft.’
‘Just think about it. Who went from nowhere to rule the strongest earldom in the country? Who is the King’s best friend and spends most of his time down south, hunting in royal company?’
‘Harold’s down south all the time.’
‘Yes, but he’s the Earl of Wessex. And don’t forget it was Harold’s idea to bring the Atheling back from Hungary and it was he who went to get him. It’s Edgar Harold wants to see as king and in return for his support Edgar will one day have to marry one of his daughters. It’ll be just like old Godwin all over again.
‘Tostig’s plan is a bit more direct. He has no daughters to marry off to Edgar, so when the time comes, he’ll take the throne for himself with Edward’s blessing.’
‘What’ll happen to Edgar?’
‘They’ll probably make him Earl of Northumbria. When the opportunity presents itself, Edward will name Tostig as heir and the Queen will support him.’
‘What about his brothers?’
‘Nothing would change for Gyrth or Leofwine and Harold would still be Earl of Wessex, although none of his grandchildren would sit on the throne unless he wanted one of his daughters to marry their cousin.’
‘Do you think he’ll sit back and let Tostig take the crown?’
‘What can he do? Mercia won’t give a hand to either side and neither will Northumbria. What that leaves is a family feud.’
‘With any luck they’ll all kill each other and leave the way clear for us’
‘Now there’s a thought, but like as not, there won’t be a feud and Tostig will be king.’
There was a moment’s silence while they reflected on what Cospatric had said.
Gamel Ormson broke the silence.
‘So why doesn’t the King name Tostig now?’
‘Because that would give us plenty of time to take action.’
‘What, arrange for him to have an accident, you mean?’
‘Exactly.’
‘I think we need to make some plans.’
Waltham, April 1063
While Tostig was in Waltham with Harold, finalising plans for an invasion of Wales, his army stood ready and waiting for his arrival in Chester. He and Harold had made plans and now everything was prepared for a summer campaign.
‘So everything’s ready?’ asked Harold.
‘Everything. We can go at any time. What about you?’
‘My fleet is ready and waiting in Bristol. Two weeks from now, you can start down the coast and launch an attack on Rhuddlan that should give them something to think about. If it’s been rebuilt, you can have fun burning it down again.’
‘I’m looking forward to it.’
‘At the same time I’ll raid along the south coast before making my way inland. Skalpi, in the meantime, will take five hundred housecarls and cross into Wales via Monmouth, where he’ll head west, destroying everything in his path until he meets up with us.’
‘And when we all meet up in mid-Wales, we’ll have Gruffydd surrounded?’
‘If he runs away, we’ll just stay in Wales destroying everything until we have him.’
‘What are we going to do with him?’
‘The King wants him dead.’
‘Good idea.’
‘I thought so, too.’
Now that the two had finished business, Harold asked Tostig if he would like to see his new battle standard.
Harold called a servant and instructed him to tell Skalpi to fetch the new standard. Within a few minutes Skalpi arrived with Bondi, who had finished his training as a housecarl, and Gauti, bearing the banner rolled under their arms. The men eyed Tostig and he could detect a mischievous look about them that he thought inappropriate. He noticed a twinkle in Harold’s eye where he had expected to see reverence.
Tostig watched as the housecarls assembled the standard and then attached the banner to it. It was quite a rigmarole. They had to connect together several brass rods, which, when they had finished, formed the shape of a cross. Tostig was surprised to see it was about nine feet in height and almost six feet wide. The housecarls proceeded to attach the standard to the cross member by means of brass rings that ran along the top of the standard. When they had it all secured they unravelled it and all three disappeared behind it as they struggled to turn it toward Tostig. That was when he discovered what had amused them. Before him, on a green silk square six feet by six, was a perfect representation of the fighting man of Cerne Abbas. He was outlined in silver thread, life- sized and, like the real thing, carried an enormous club and had a huge erection. Skalpi had disappeared; he was behind the banner supporting it. On either side the two housecarls were beaming huge smiles.
Tostig’s eyes moved all over the gem-studded banner. Outlining the Cerne Abbas man and making up the edging were purple coloured amethysts representing love and truth unto death. There was chalcedony for fortitude and chrysolite for wisdom. Most impressive were brilliant green emeralds for faith, hope and justice. And to show Harold was willing to spare no expense, there were rubies for valour and azure sapphires to create a reflection of heaven, the emblem of love and truth. Also sewn into the banner were sardonyx for lowliness, mercy and truth and finally yellow topaz for justice. It was a thing of beauty and an outrage at one and the same time and one of the most astonishing things Tostig had ever seen.
‘I wonder what Gruffydd will think when he sees it?’
‘I doubt if he’ll think anything. He’ll just run.’
Just over two weeks later, when Harold had finished raiding along the south coast of Wales, he and Skalpi met in Cardigan. The ships were drawn up on the riverbank, the men resting after burning the town to the ground.
‘Skalpi! What’s your news?’
‘My lord, we’ve had much success and at little cost to ourselves, but we haven’t found Gruffydd.’
‘Nor have we. Perhaps Tostig has him cornered in the north.’
‘Perhaps, my Lord.’
‘How did you fare with your new armour?’
Skalpi smiled. ‘It works as well as we hoped. It’s just what we need for this terrain and this style of warfare.’
After witnessing Gruffydd’s narrow escape the previous winter, Harold had adopted a new strategy for the summer. He had reorganised his men, replacing their heavy chain mail coats with tough leather tunics. Battleaxes had been left at home; swords and spears were the order of the day. Instead of remaining static behind their shield wall, the men would act more like light infantry, avoiding pitched battles but attacking swiftly and if all went well, following up and pursuing the enemy. If outnumbered, they would withdraw.
‘Have you managed to capture any horses?’
‘Yes, I don’t think there are any left in South Wales now.’
‘Good. Tomorrow we’ll venture inland. I suggest you and the men get fed and watered and enjoy a good night’s rest. Tomorrow will be a busy day.’
At dawn the next day, Harold led the army past the charred ruins of Cardigan. Wispy columns of smoke made their way here and there towards the sky. An eerie silence hung over what had been a thriving port. Now the only ships and boats in its harbour were at the bottom of the river. Only women and children remained in the town.
For a week, Harold headed further east into the mountain valleys. Everywhere villages and towns had been burnt down; any man caught had been killed, including the priests. In any habitation, no matter how small or grand, once Harold had passed by only weeping widows and howling children were left behind.
Coming down from the north, Tostig was enjoying similar success. In mid-August, in the heart of Wales, the brothers linked up. N
ow they were united, Gruffydd was moving even more swiftly to avoid capture. Scurrying from one stronghold to the next, the Welshman’s support was rapidly dwindling.
From the heights of hill and mountain the Welsh warriors observed Harold’s skirmishers sweep forward across the landscape out into the blue distance. Those whose homes had not already been destroyed knew that sooner or later they would be destitute. Whenever the Saxons won a victory, they erected a cairn of stones bearing the inscription, ‘Here Harold Conquered’. The countryside was littered with them.
Despondent, seeing Gruffydd without an answer to Harold’s tactics, there were many who deserted their prince. Gruffydd, with fewer and fewer men, knew his days were numbered. Consequently, he kept up the desperate running battle, until near the end of summer he found himself living high in some nameless hills with little food and no prospect of a future. The English had him trapped and while they debated whether to launch an outright assault or to starve their enemy out, a small group of riders approached from the direction of his camp. Harold, Tostig and Skalpi went to meet them. At the head of the party were Gruffydd’s half brothers, Bleddynn and Rhiwallon. When they were within speaking distance both groups halted.
‘What do you want?’ Harold enquired.
‘We have come to negotiate a peace settlement.’ It was Bleddynn who answered.
‘I wondered when you’d see sense. Hand over Gruffydd or we’ll come and get him.’
‘I could never betray my lord.’
‘Fine words. You’ll find yourself dying with him.’
‘But, Earl Harold... you are Earl Harold?’
‘I am. Who are you?’
‘I am Bleddynn, brother of Gruffydd and this is my brother Rhiwallon. Perhaps, Earl Harold, we could come to some arrangement.’
‘I’ve told you the arrangement; hand him over or we’ll kill you all.’
‘But that’s unreasonable! I thought you had come to negotiate.’
‘No. You have come to negotiate. I have come to tell you what to do. If you’d seen what I saw at Hereford, and for all I know you did, then you’d understand why I feel the way I do about your highly esteemed leader.’
1066 Page 22