1066

by G. K. Holloway

  ‘That sounds like a fine solution to me.’

  ‘When, though, that’s the question?’

  ‘Well, there’s no time like the present.’

  ‘What, now, you mean?’

  ‘Why not? We’ve no time to waste. They could easily have a little accident while out hunting.’

  ‘I’ll drink to that. Ha, ha, ha.’

  ‘Get some more beer in. I think we have reason to celebrate.’

  Little did they realise they had no reason to celebrate at all. Far from discovering a way out of their problems, they had created more. Every treacherous word they had uttered had been overheard by one of Tostig’s informants, who went straight back to his earl and explained what he had overheard. Before Cospatric, Orm or Hardwulf had left the inn, word of their plot had reached Tostig and via him, the Queen. The twins took no time to find a solution to the problem.

  Later that evening, as the great hall was beginning to fill for the feast, a servant sought out and found Earl Cospatric. The earl and his cronies were already at their table and talking merrily.

  The servant approached Cospatric discreetly, whispered something in his ear, smiled and stepped back. Cospatric, looking a little surprised and more than a little pleased excused himself and followed the servant. As the two left, they passed Tostig on his way in. Tostig greeted Cospatric warmly as they passed.

  As the servant made his way to the Queen’s chamber, he met Hardy, Edith’s steward.

  ‘Ah, my lord... Earl Cospatric.’ Hardy greeted the Earl as though he were a long lost friend. ‘You got the message, I see.’

  Before he could answer, Hardy dismissed the servant and bade Earl Cospatric to follow him. The servant, as instructed, made his way out of the great hall toward an inn on the edge of town. Amund, one of Tostig’s housecarls, would meet him there and be the last person to see the servant alive.

  Hardy made his way to the Queen’s chamber with Cospatric following on behind and the two made small talk as they went. The Earl was desperate to know why the Queen wanted to see him. She had never summoned him before and he could only imagine this meeting must have something to do with the succession.

  When they reached the Queen’s chamber, Hardy knocked on the door and entered when beckoned.

  ‘Earl Cospatric to see you, ma’am.’

  ‘Show him in.’

  Hardy turned and invited Cospatric to enter, indicating with an outstretched arm as though it was not obvious which way he was expected to proceed. ‘My lady will see you now, Earl Cospatric.’

  As the Earl stepped into the room, Hardy closed the door behind him. Queen Edith dismissed two ladies-in-waiting, telling them that she wished to talk with Earl Cospatric alone. She turned to the Earl and smiled seductively. He returned the smile.

  ‘You must be wondering why I sent for you, Earl Cospatric?’ said the Queen, still smiling as she rose to her feet and approached him.

  ‘Yes I am, my lady,’ he answered, as she kissed him on each cheek.

  ‘I wanted to have a word with you about the succession,’ she said, taking a step back, taking his hands in hers, and holding them gently by his fingertips.

  Cospatric was fully attentive as he sensed the Queen was about to give him important news. He stared into her hypnotic eyes, unaware of anything else in the room. He did not hear Hardy come up behind him. It was too late when he saw the blur of a knotted rope flash by his eyes and the Queen was still smiling as the pain from Hardy’s knee smashed into his back, forcing him down to his knees. Two men who he recognised as Tostig’s housecarls appeared from behind drapes, strode over to him and proceeded to kick him hard in the chest and stomach. The last he saw of Queen Edith was her turning her back on him. The sight of his purple face with its bulging eyes was too much for the lady to bear.

  Ravenswort and Barcwith wrapped Cospatric in some old sheets and carried him out of the room. Hardy, ever the gentleman, opened the door for them. When they had left he turned to the Queen.

  ‘Will that be all, ma’am?’

  ‘Yes. That will be all, Hardy,’ she answered, pulling back the drapes to clear the air. A little cold, fresh winter night seeped in to her room.

  Within minutes Ravenswort and Barcwith were carrying Cospatric’s body towards a small malodorous brook, an insignificant tributary of the Severn. His body was relieved of its money and valuables. His throat was then slit to make it look as though the Earl had been murdered on the spot. Cospatric’s body was then thrown into the murky water, where he was found the next morning, the victim of a violent and terrible robbery. The main suspect was the servant who had led him away from the hall, never to be seen again.

  1065 The Summer of Discontent

  In the great hall at York, Earl Tostig and Lady Judith arrived with the spring sun to an awkward reception. Disinclined to spend the winter in the North, especially after the unpleasantness of the Christmas court, Tostig and Judith had stayed with the King in London. Now, almost like paying a visit to relatives they disliked but were duty bound to see, they were back in Northumbria after the Easter court.

  Tostig and Judith could tell as soon as they arrived that the servants were doing their best to welcome them but there was an uneasiness about the way they performed their tasks that communicated perhaps all was not well. Tostig summoned Copsig to his private chambers to catch up on news.

  ‘Welcome back, my Lord. While you were away at Westminster with the King, a dreadful thing happened; the brigand you imprisoned at Durham last November escaped custody.’

  ‘Which brigand?’

  ‘Alden-Hemel, my Lord. Apparently he escaped with the miraculous assistance of Saint Cuthbert.’

  ‘You mean someone took a bribe. Saint Cuthbert had nothing to do with this, I’ll be bound. Anything else I ought to know?’

  ‘Well, after Alden-Hamel escaped, he took refuge in a church.’ Copsig continued quite slowly and precisely, as though in an effort to convey the full meaning of his message, before adding with great emphasis, ‘It was Saint Cuthbert’s, my Lord.’

  ‘Continue.’

  ‘Well, Ravenswort and Barcwith somehow discovered he was in there claiming sanctuary. Ravenswort was all for leaving him there the full forty days and then recapturing him when his time was up but Barcwith, being impatient by nature, went into a bit of a rage, running around shouting and screaming, “Get out of there, you bastard or we’ll come in and get you,” that sort of thing, but Alden-Hamel wouldn’t come out.’

  ‘What happened next?’

  ‘Well, Barcwith, all full of fire and the like, called to his men to break down the doors of the church. He himself was making as if to charge down the doors when he collapsed as if struck by an arrow. Out cold he was and he never recovered, died a horrible death three days later. They reckon he’s gone straight to hell for what he did, my Lord.’

  ‘I suppose this is the talk of the North?’

  ‘Yes. The Bishop of Durham wants to see you about it.’

  ‘I suppose he wants compensation.’

  ‘Yes, my Lord. He’s furious. He reckons Barcwith was struck down by God for violating the holy sanctuary of Saint Cuthbert and as Barcwith was your man you should pay compensation. It’s like Lady Judith’s servant getting killed all over again. Perhaps you should pay the compensation Barcwith would have had to pay, had he survived.’

  ‘Did the Bishop say how much?’

  ‘Ninety-six pounds, my Lord,’ mumbled Copsig, hoping his lord would not hear him.

  ‘Ninety-six pounds,’ bellowed Tostig. ‘I could pay less for murder.’

  ‘Exorbitant though it is, I think it advisable to pay up because the Bamburghs are whipping up a lot of trouble. The rumour is that Barcwith was acting on your direct orders. They are saying that you are unholy and you insult the saints and everything that’s holy. A few weeks ago, the remains of St. Oswin were disinterred and put on display at Durham.’

  ‘Who’s Saint Oswin?’

  ‘One of Northumbria�
�s martyrs. He was betrayed and murdered by King Oswy.’

  Tostig’s mind flew back to Christmas and the plot he had hatched with Edith.

  ‘Well, we’d better pay the Bishop of Durham his ninety-six pounds right away. That should quiet things down for a while. And start recruiting more housecarls.’

  ‘Is there anything else, my Lord?’

  ‘No. That’ll be all.’

  ‘Very well, my Lord,’ said Copsig, feeling reassured, now that the Earl was home.

  But tensions rose and by the end of the summer things came to a head, as Tostig found out during a visit to Harold’s hunting lodge in Wiltshire with King Edward in early September.

  On their arrival at the lodge in Britford, they were surprised to find Harold waiting for them. Harold told them that there had been an attack on another of his lodges, at Portskewet. While he had been out hunting, the lodge had been attacked by a gang of about two hundred men. All the servants were killed and the lodge burned down.

  Barely had he finished explaining when a messenger arrived looking for Tostig.

  ‘There has been a rebellion in the North, my Lord. Hundreds of soldiers entered York earlier in the week,’ the messenger said, all of a fluster. ‘They took everything, weapons, treasure, furniture; anything that wasn’t nailed down.’

  ‘But what about the guard?’

  ‘There were too many for them, my Lord. Your housecarls put up a brave fight by all accounts but they were overwhelmed. I’m sorry to say at least two hundred of your men are dead, including Amund.’

  ‘My God, what about Ravenswort?’

  ‘I’ve no word of him, my Lord. They said if you had been there, they’d have killed you too.’

  The King stepped forward, ‘So they’ve taken over York?’

  ‘It’s worse than that, my Lord. The rebels have outlawed Earl Tostig and chosen Morcar as the new earl for Northumbria.’

  ‘God’s death!’ Edward was extremely angry now. ‘They must have been planning this for a long time. Where’s Morcar now? Do you know?’

  ‘Yes, he’s with the rebels. He appeared within a day or two of the revolt.’

  ‘This has been planned, Harold. What are we to do?’ the King asked.

  ‘Why do you ask him? I’m under attack, not Harold!’ interrupted Tostig.

  ‘Tostig, calm yourself. These rebels and Morcar, what do they want?’

  ‘I don’t know, my Lord,’ the messenger replied.

  ‘We should go up and see them,’ asserted Harold.

  ‘Morcar,’ said the messenger ‘has appointed Oswulf as the new Earl of Bernicia.’

  ‘The bloody Bamburghs, I might have known,’ Tostig exclaimed. Even under the circumstances, the King was amazed to hear him swear, albeit mildly; he’d never known it before.

  The messenger continued, ‘After they left York, they terrorised Lincoln, Nottingham and Derby. The last I heard they were doing the same to Northampton.’

  ‘Are they planning to move on London?’ asked the King, rising to a panic.

  ‘I’ve no idea. I know Earl Edwin has joined them and a lot of Welshmen too.’

  The mention of Welshmen alerted the brothers to where the danger might be coming from.

  ‘Aelfgar’s sons,’ snarled Tostig. ‘They must have got together with some of his old friends over the border. They want the throne, I’ll bet. You must name your successor, Edward. Name me now and I’ll deal with them. I’ll show them what it means to rise up against their king,’ seethed Tostig.

  Edward turned pale in an instant.

  ‘If I may speak, my Lord?’ the messenger asked.

  ‘Go on,’ replied the King.

  ‘Although the rebels utterly repudiate Earl Tostig’s authority in Northumbria, they claim to be absolutely loyal to the Crown.’

  ‘What, they prove this by running amok all over the countryside? Disloyalty to an earl is disloyalty to me. This must be dealt with immediately. Harold, what do you say?’

  ‘Let’s meet them and see what they want.’

  ‘We know what they want,’ interjected Tostig. ‘We’ll raise an army. Get Gyrth and Leofwine. They wouldn’t rise against the King.’

  ‘And what if this ends in civil war?’ Harold asked, looking to the King, observing the slight quiver that ran the length of his body, noting his increasing frailty. ‘Don’t you think we’re too vulnerable to indulge in something of that magnitude?’

  ‘He’s right, Tostig. Harold, I think you ought to see them. Tostig’s presence will only inflame the situation.’

  Yes, thought Harold, keep him safe. ‘That’s very wise counsel, my Lord. I’ll take a dozen housecarls. If I leave now I’ll catch up with them in a few days.’

  In the sheriff’s hall in Northampton he delivered the King’s message: ‘You are to lay down your arms and submit your grievances to a full assembly of the Witan.’

  This was the day that Aelfgar’s sons had long awaited, the day when a Godwinson would be at their beck and call, begging favours, seeking goodwill and asking favour. It was Earl Edwin who answered. Surrounded by his cronies he spoke with confidence, if not contempt, but he was young and knew no better.

  ‘Why should we lay down our arms? Your brother’s tyranny has driven us to rebellion. This isn’t something we do lightly or something we will stop on a whim.’

  ‘The King would like to talk with you all.’

  ‘Where and when would that be?’ asked Edwin, his smile subsiding.

  ‘Oxford, on the twenty-eighth of this month.’

  ‘Very well, we’ll see him there.’

  Harold returned to the hunting lodge in Britford with a heavy heart. The rebels were not going to back down easily and for the moment they had the upper hand. Gyrth and Leofwine had answered the King’s summons and had brought as many men as they could gather at short notice; more were on the way.

  After Harold had given his account of his meeting with the Northumbrians, the brothers and the King discussed tactics.

  ‘We can’t allow them to get away with this,’ said Edward. ‘Raise an army then give them the sound thrashing they deserve.’

  ‘Very well, my Lord, we’ll invade the North in the spring.’

  ‘The spring? Why wait until then, why not now?’

  ‘We couldn’t gather an army of sufficient strength before Christmas, my Lord.’

  ‘Morcar and Edwin have an army.’

  ‘That’s true, my Lord but they have had most of the year to plan this.’

  ‘You think so?’

  ‘Since last Christmas is my guess.’

  Edward hesitated for a moment before replying, ‘This is about Cospatric, then?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘Well, if we put our minds to it, why couldn’t we raise an army in time to meet them at Oxford?’

  ‘It’s important we get this right, my Lord,’ Harold continued, calmly addressing the King. ‘After all, what would be the result of using too few troops and losing the battle? Wouldn’t that leave Edwin and Morcar the victors? And suppose we won but lost so many men in the process that the country was open for a third party to enter unhindered?’

  ‘Then what do you suggest?’

  ‘We can’t be sure of success using military means, not just at the moment anyway. Why not try political means, at least for the interim? With any luck it might not come to a clash of arms and perhaps their support will melt away.’

  On a miserable October afternoon, Earl Edwin and Morcar arrived in Oxford, ready to air their grievances. They were united in their determination to concede nothing.

  Wrapped up in their winter cloaks, the good and the great of England started their discussions, as was customary, in the open, the whole town as witness. King Edward remained out of sight; he had delegated all authority to Harold, a wise move, though Tostig felt slighted.

  ‘Where’s King Edward?’ snapped Earl Edwin.

  ‘He feels unwell and has requested me to take his place, if there are no objection
s.’

  Edwin looked around. ‘Do we have any objections?’

  The question was greeted with a barely discernible murmuring.

  ‘What do you have to say, Earl Harold?’

  ‘King Edward seeks to know your grievances and demands.’

  ‘It’s quite simple. Since becoming Earl of Northumbria, your brother there has treated us cruelly. He’s a tyrant who punishes the slightest misdemeanour with the severest punishment, his taxes are harsh and unfair and his justice prejudiced. He must be banished from the kingdom forthwith and Earl Morcar will take his place.’

  ‘Morcar’s no Earl,’ yelled Tostig.

  ‘Who are you?’ was Morcar’s insolent reply.

  ‘Don’t pretend you don’t know who I am.’

  ‘Ah, I thought I knew your face. Weren’t you the Earl of Northumbria?’

  ‘Don’t be clever, it really doesn’t suit you.’

  ‘Well, when have you ever been clever?’

  ‘My lords, my Lords,’ pleaded Harold, walking out between the feuding men with his arms spread wide and high. ‘This is no way to solve our problems.’

  ‘Why should the King allow the election of Morcar as earl when he broke into my treasury and plundered it?’ Tostig demanded to know.

  ‘It was our money in there,’ was Edwin’s retort.

  ‘On the contrary, the money in my treasury was tax money for the King. Should treason be rewarded with an earldom?’

  ‘We’ll give the King any money that’s his but Tostig’s not having a penny.’

  ‘And what about the housecarls you killed? Are you going to give them back? You’ve infringed the prohibitions on killing housecarls.’

  ‘If you hadn’t been such a tyrant it wouldn’t have been necessary.’

  ‘It wasn’t necessary. If you had any genuine complaints you should have taken a petition to the King. And who are you to depose a legitimately appointed earl just to impose your own brother? Appointing earls is the business of the King and the Witan, not yours.’

  Tostig was winning the council over; Edwin could see the danger he was in.

  ‘It’s your covetousness that’s brought this on your head, Tostig.’

  ‘Well, let’s ask the King, shall we? Or as the King’s not here, let’s ask Earl Harold what he thinks?’