The two men made their way to the great hall and entered to see William seated on his ducal throne. Perched on his head was a golden circlet and in his hand he held the great sword of state. The hall was filled with the nobility of Normandy and the leading churchmen in their full robes and habits. On the dais, in front of William and for all to see, was a chest covered with a cloth-of-gold upon which rested a missal. Bishop Odo stood close by, his face looking somehow crueller than usual and yet somehow indistinct. Harold felt as though he had entered another world.
‘Welcome, Earl Harold,’ greeted the Duke.
All eyes turned to the Earl. Suddenly Harold felt extremely self-conscious. A mildly nauseous feeling swept through him and his usual confidence evaporated. Everywhere he looked he could see eyes staring at him vacantly, like so many dead fish. William looked at Harold as though he had the power to read his thoughts.
The Duke beckoned him to walk forward to the chest. Observed by every pair of eyes in that silent assembly, he advanced. Now he felt the urge to laugh and tried hard to suppress a giggle.
‘Earl Harold,’ enquired Odo, in a whisper. ‘Do our Norman customs amuse you?’
Harold looked at Odo’s oddly distorted face. It looked as though once he had had a perfect face but over time it had been reshaped by some deep inner emotions. He looked possessed by lust and greed and far from holy.
‘No,’ replied Harold, weakly. He looked up at William and once more saw his face, almost like a mask, twisted by avarice. Cold shivers ran through him.
‘Harold, would you like to see your brother and nephew?’
‘Yes please, Duke William,’ answered Harold with childlike enthusiasm. He tried hard to suppress another giggle, amused by the sound of his own voice.
‘In the gallery,’ said William, with a nod.
Harold turned and looked to the gallery. There in the gloom he could make out half a dozen figures. Four were armed men in chain mail and steel helmets with their swords drawn and pointed at two men in front of them. It had been thirteen years since he had last seen them. There was Wulfnoth, now in his twenties but the face of the youth still recognisable in the man. Harold could only guess the other figure was Haakon, who he had last seen as a young boy. Overwhelmed by the sight of his kin, Harold waved, a big grin spread across his face. As he waved he saw his hands leave behind a kind of trail in the air. It was as though he had a hundred limbs blurring in front of his eyes. Small, delicate rainbows appeared out of nowhere, hovered in the air then vanished as quickly as they had appeared. He tried closing his eyes to shut out the images but immediately visions of another type formed in a mind bursting with effortless imaginings.
‘Harold, I think you are forgetting yourself.’ It was Odo again, stern this time.
‘Harold.’ Now it was William who spoke but more gently than his brother. ‘In honour of your bravery you are to be knighted. After which we’ll reunite you with your family,’ he paused, ‘before you leave for home.’
Harold felt light-headed and a little dizzy, drawn by a vortex into a void.
‘Harold,’ Odo hissed. ‘First the oath.’
Harold moved stiffly toward the chest where the missal sat upon a cloth.
‘Good. Now place your hand on the missal.’
As instructed, Harold extended his arm and placed his hand on the missal.
‘Now say after me, “I, Earl Harold of Wessex, do solemnly swear allegiance to William, Duke of Normandy”.’
Harold repeated Odo’s words, his speech growing more slurred with every syllable. He swore to be the Duke’s obedient vassal, to do all in his power, to actively support Duke William’s rightful claim to the English throne.
Harold felt dizzy and confused and more nauseous by the second. Events were out of his control. His mind addled and his legs weak, he almost lost his balance as he turned to the gallery and saw his brother and nephew, swords at their throats, their fate in his hands. He turned to face Odo.
‘S’help me God!’ said Harold with his quivering hand touching the missal.
All those gathered in the hall echoed, ‘So help me God!’ with an abrupt finality.
Even through his distorted perceptions, Harold knew that some balance had shifted, some door had opened but not for him and he could feel the most awful sinking sensation in his stomach.
William rose from his throne and took his place with Harold in front of the chest. Slowly and deliberately, like a magician demonstrating a trick, he removed the missal and drew away the covering cloth.
‘Harold, regard this well.’
Harold followed William’s gaze. There on the chest was a glass casket, cased in gold, which contained a skull, a dried finger and a fragment of bone.
‘Do you know what they are, my friend?’
Harold stared, speechless, his head reeling.
These are the relics of two of your English saints, Revenus and Rasiphus. They are obscure, I’ll admit. So obscure you’ve probably never even heard of them. But nevertheless, they are English and you have just sworn a holy oath on them.’
As Harold’s startled gaze beheld the casket’s contents he realised some awful mistake had been made. He was bound in a way he did not yet fully understand. He looked around and the fisheyes stared impassively. He felt like some helpless child, conspired against by adults, made to perform some silly trick he did not understand.
Harold looked up to where his brother and nephew were being removed. He looked to William; the one who always knew what was happening, the one who was his friend, his Lord.
‘Time to go now, Earl Harold,’ said Duke William, softly.
Harold felt a hand on his arm; it was Sir William Malet. ‘Time to go, Harold,’ he said gently, leading him from the silent hall.
The bright sunlight almost blinded Harold as he stepped outside. He looked down to protect his eyes and saw a huge rust-coloured butterfly, perhaps a foot across, sunning itself in the last of the summer sun. Looking round he saw little rainbows here and there; it was a pretty sight and then he was sick. He heard what sounded like a stampede behind him before Skalpi came into view.
‘My Lord, are you all right?’
‘Skalpi, I think I’ve been poisoned. Nothing is all right.’
‘You didn’t look right in the church.’
‘I didn’t see you there.’
‘They kept us at the back but we saw and heard everything.’
‘What have I done, Skalpi, what have I done?’
‘Nothing, my Lord, nothing we can’t undo, I’m sure,’ said Skalpi, looking to Sir William for confirmation.
‘I knew nothing about this Harold, I swear.’ Malet answered the unasked question.
But it was no time to have a serious conversation with Earl Harold, who was staggering with his arm round Skalpi’s shoulder, as he was taken back to his room. He lay on his bed chattering incoherently, until a servant came knocking on the door, announcing that Duke William would like to see him before he departed. The Duke was waiting for him with his nephew, Haakon.
Harold met Duke William, who was on horseback, in the courtyard of the castle. Beside him, also mounted, was Haakon. The two men exchanged greetings.
‘Ready to leave, Earl Harold?’ the Duke enquired.
‘Where’s my brother?’
‘Your brother will be along later, when you’ve fulfilled your part of the bargain.’
‘What do you mean, when I’ve fulfilled my part of the bargain?’
‘You agreed to support my claim to the throne of England for which I, in return, would deliver up your kinsmen to you. You see how magnanimous I am, Harold? Already I have returned Haakon and you shall have many splendid gifts to take back to England.
‘I thought Wulfnoth was to return with me as well.’
‘Wulfnoth will remain my guest as guarantee of your integrity. Now, Harold, I suggest you ride with me to your ship, which is ready and waiting to sail.’
When Harold arrived with the Duke at the little
harbour, it was to find his ship with its complete complement of crew and as much cargo as it could carry, tied up and waiting. Apart from enough supplies to get them home safely, the cargo consisted of gifts, mostly for Harold, some for King Edward.
‘It’s been so enjoyable having you to stay, Harold. I look forward to seeing you again soon.’
‘Thank you for your hospitality, which I found quite unique. Goodbye, Duke William.’
‘Au revoir, Harold, and bon voyage. Be careful not to get lost on the way.’
The ship cast off and slowly made its way down the river towards home. It was the beginning of Harold’s last sea voyage.
Back Home
A few days later Harold found himself standing sheepishly before the King in the great hall at Westminster.
‘It’s been a long time since I was last in Normandy. What did you think of it?’
‘Quite different from England.’
‘Isn’t it?’ Edward waited for Harold to respond. When he did not, he enquired, ‘And what did you think of the Normans themselves?’
‘There are some who have guile and cunning to make up for any lack of education and they’re more than a little adept at using their intellect in perverse ways if it will further their own cause.’
‘Oh dear, did someone upset you?’
Harold told Edward everything and when he had finished recounting events, Edward sat on his throne with his head in his hands, murmuring, ‘This is not what I had in mind, not what I had in mind at all. Didn’t I tell you, Harold, didn’t I tell you but you wouldn’t listen? Didn’t I say what a crafty, conniving bastard William is? He’ll stop at nothing to get his way. Leave this with me. I’ll see what I can do.’
Harold left the King feeling unsettled. Troubled, he left for Waltham.
Within an hour of Harold’s leaving King Edward, Earl Tostig was standing in exactly the same spot where his brother had stood just a short while before. The subject of the conversation was the same as Edward had had earlier with Harold. This time, Queen Edith was present. She and Edward listened keenly to what Tostig had to say.
‘Wouldn’t it be simpler if you just named me as heir?’
‘No, it would create too many problems.’
‘For whom?’
‘For me, Tostig, for me. This is a difficult business.’
‘Then why not make it simple?’
‘What about the oath Harold swore, does it mean anything?’ the Queen asked.
The King answered dismissively, ‘It’s worthless.’
‘So, my Lord, we can discount William’s claim?’
‘Absolutely!’
‘Then name me,’ pleaded Tostig, on the verge of begging.
‘Tostig,’ said Edith firmly, ‘you need to consider our brothers. How will they react? There’s also Cospatric to consider.’
‘Cospatric! What’s Cospatric got to do with this?’ Tostig was growing impatient.
‘He has a valid claim’ said Edward, calmly and authoritatively.
‘Not much of one.’
‘So what are we to do, Edward?’ Edith asked.
‘We must bide our time and be ready to take advantage of any opportunity that presents itself.’
Tostig interjected, ‘So you won’t name me as your heir?’
‘Not yet, but I won’t name anyone else either. In the meantime say nothing of the matter between Harold and William to anyone.’
‘Very well.’
‘Now, why don’t you stay and enjoy some wine with your sister and me? Perhaps Countess Judith would like to join us?’
It was with genuine pleasure a few days later that Harold granted permission for Skalpi to leave the housecarls and marry Aelfryth, his sweetheart. The request had been expected for some time and came as no surprise to anyone. Skalpi’s time with the housecarls had almost come to an end and his relationship with Aelfryth had been flowering for a while. As was the custom, Skalpi would leave the housecarls after the Christmas court.
‘What will you do then, Skalpi?’
‘I thought I’d become a miller like my father, my Lord.’
‘All on your own?’
‘Aelfryth’s brother has experience in the mill. He’s going to work with us.’
‘Sounds like a sensible decision. Where are you going to live?’
‘At Whatlington, my Lord.’
‘You’ll probably need some land.’
‘That might have to wait for a while, my Lord.’
‘I don’t see why. I’ve plenty of land around there. Will five hides keep you busy?’
‘That’s very kind of you.’
‘Consider them a wedding gift.’
‘Thank you, my Lord.’
‘When’s the wedding?’
‘We thought January.’
‘Right after you leave, eh?’
‘That’s right. We wondered, my Lord, if you’d like to join us in the celebrations?’
‘I thought you’d never ask.’
‘All the family’s welcome, my Lord.’
‘We’ll look forward to it.’
It was a pleasant distraction for Harold to accept a wedding invitation and hear confirmation that rumours of Skalpi’s impending marriage were true, although he would miss him. Another distraction came when Harold was asked by Gyrth to preside over the court in Colchester. He welcomed the routine of the court and accepted Gyrth’s request. All he had to do was consider the evidence and pass judgement.
Harold’s first case was one of indecent assault. It transpired there had been some confusion, no one had come to any harm and the case was dismissed.
‘What’s next?’
‘We have a man charged with theft, my Lord,’ said the shire reeve. ‘Call Herfast,’ he called out.
A wretch familiar to Harold was brought before the court. He took one look at Earl Harold and knew his fate was sealed.
‘You’re charged with stealing a pig from the widow Leoflaed. How do you plead?’ asked the shire reeve.
Herfast, who had until moments before been considering pleading not guilty, had a change of mind. ‘Guilty,’ he answered.
There was a gasp from the onlookers. No one had expected a guilty plea. Thieves were usually liars and said anything to escape their fate.
The shire reeve asked if there was anyone there to speak for Herfast. There was not.
‘Is there anything you want to say before sentence is passed?’
Herfast looked at the reeve, glanced at Harold for just a moment before his eyes fixed on the codebook. In the codebook were all the law codes, crimes and punishments. He knew the punishment for a theft of this nature. He would have to compensate the victim and he would lose a hand. His eyes settled on the shire reeve for just an instant.
‘No, my Lord. There’s nothing I want to say.’
The reeve looked to Harold who asked if the owner of the pig would step forward. A huge middle-aged woman presented herself.
‘How much was your pig worth, Leoflaed?’
‘Twenty pence, my Lord.’
‘That seems a fair price for a pig. Herfast, do you have twenty pence you can offer this good woman in compensation for the pig you stole?’
‘I don’t have a penny to my name, my Lord.’
Harold turned to the shire reeve who had opened the book of codes. He indicated with his finger Herfast’s punishment. The prisoner turned pale and began to shake.
‘Herfast’, said Harold, ‘It is my duty to sentence you to a year of servitude with Leoflaed. After twelve months you should have worked off your debt to her.’
Herfast breathed a sigh of relief; he thought that would be his punishment in total.
‘This will be,’ Harold continued, ‘after you have had your hand struck off as is the prescribed punishment for stealing. You will be led from here to the market place where you will suffer your fate. Tomorrow you will begin to work for Leoflaed.’
Christmas 1064
As had been the custom for so many ye
ars, the King’s Christmas court was held in Gloucester, but this year there was a tension in the air. Looking a little wan, Edward appeared less vigorous than of old. At any gathering where the King and the Atheling were present, eyes would flit from one to the other and the same thought passed through everyone’s mind; how long did the King have and would Edgar be able to replace him? The eyes would then move to Harold, who was an obvious candidate for the throne. Considering what was at stake, tension between the Earl and the Atheling was minimal.
Speculation as to who would succeed Edward was rife and there were those in the North who favoured a claimant from their own part of the country. In dark corridors there was whispering, which softly echoed round the court. But it was not just in the dimly lit passages that whispers could be heard. In a dark corner of a crowded tavern, talking in hushed tones sat Cospatric, Orm and Hardwulf, discussing England’s eternal problem.
‘The King must name a successor soon, we can’t go on like this,’ hissed Hardwulf in what he imagined to be a whisper.
‘You must put your case to him again, Cospatric, otherwise we’ll be stuck with that halfwit boy or Harold Godwinson.’
‘Whichever one becomes king, it’ll amount to the same thing for Northumbria. Edgar couldn’t control the Godwinsons and Tostig would remain a tyrant. If Harold became king, he’d give Tostig full rein to do as he liked. If not you, it doesn’t make any difference to us who becomes king. All the rest have nothing but contempt for us. You’re our only hope, my Lord. You must act or we’ll all end up the same as Gamel and Wulf. The North is with you and so is Earl Edwin. If Harold and Edgar are the problem, let’s get rid of them.’
‘It’s not Harold and Edgar that’s the problem; it’s Tostig and Harold. I think I can say we’ve all had it up to the back teeth with Tostig, so he’ll have to go; trouble is, with Harold and the King to support him, he’s all but invulnerable.’
‘Let’s get rid of both of them.’
‘Exactly.’
‘Tostig first, then Harold.’
‘Yes. Then, my Lord, you would be named as Earl of Northumbria.’
‘And for Edwin’s support, his brother Morcar could later become Earl of Wessex.’
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