1066

by G. K. Holloway

  ‘You appreciate it might be difficult for me too? You’ve got no idea.’

  ‘Think of what I’ve been through.’

  ‘What have you been through? All you’ve done is marry some trollop.’

  ‘She’s not a trollop.’

  ‘Oh, I see. Love her, do you?’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘Why should I believe you?’

  ‘Believe me, I’m telling the truth.’

  ‘Do you say the same thing to her?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Do you say the same thing to her? “Believe me, I’m telling the truth.” Does she even know you’re here?’

  Harold looked down to the floor.

  ‘I thought not. You’ll tell her a lie and if she doesn’t believe you, what are you going to say?’

  ‘Edyth, this isn’t fair.’

  ‘Not fair! How dare you tell me what’s fair. I’m your wife of more than twenty years; I’ve had your children and nursed you back from death’s door. I’ve shared your trials and tribulations. I’ve always stood by your side; surely that’s worth something? And now you reward me by casting me aside as soon as the fancy takes you?’

  ‘I was trapped. I was forced into a marriage I didn’t want. There was no escape. If I hadn’t gone through with it I would have lost Northumbrian support, at the very least. Don’t you see I had no choice?’

  ‘Then why be king?’

  ‘A king can’t control everything. Just like anybody else, there are times when you have to make the best out of a bad lot.’

  ‘So you made the best of it, did you?’

  ‘I’ve always said that I would need to be free to take a wife for political reasons. You’ve always known that.’

  ‘Knowing something is one thing, having it happen is another. A few months ago I had no reason to believe you would ever marry anyone else.’

  ‘I didn’t either. I just want us to be together.’

  ‘Have you taken leave of your senses? You’re married now. Aldytha is your queen. She has a hold over you, as do Morcar and Edwin. How strong a hold will they have over you if Aldytha has a child?’

  Harold looked uneasy.

  ‘Is she pregnant?’

  Harold, looking even more uneasy, said nothing.

  ‘You don’t know, do you? But she might be?’

  ‘Yes, she might be.’

  ‘Well, it didn’t take you long, did it?’

  ‘Edyth, I had to consummate the marriage.’

  ‘God, life must be so hard for you.’

  ‘But it’s you I want. It’s always been you.’

  ‘You’ve got a fine way of showing it.’

  ‘I just want things to be as they have always been.’

  ‘Do you really think that’s possible?’

  ‘I am the King and I have the power to do things no one else can but there are things expected of me which would not be expected of anyone else. Surely you can see that? This time next year everything will be different, you’ll see. We’ll be able to get on with our lives as before, I promise you.’

  Edyth knew he was right; he could see it in her expression and he loved her, as he had always done. His love for her didn’t intoxicate him as often as it once had but his love for her felt complete. His heart would skip a beat if he saw her by chance, or suddenly, for no apparent reason, he would miss her dreadfully.

  ‘I don’t know what to think, Harold.’

  Harold’s gaze drifted across the room and it was then his eye caught sight of the table and he remembered a time in the past when they first made love. Looking up, he caught Edyth’s eye and realised the same thought was passing through her mind too. Stepping forward he took her firmly in his arms and kissed her on the mouth, pulling back her clothes as though peeling a rich, ripe fruit before devouring her.

  It was still early morning; as in times past, the couple lay entwined on the floor.

  ‘It all seems beyond us, Harold.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ’Have you seen the star?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What does it mean?’

  ‘It’s an omen. It means everything’s going to be all right.’

  William Prepares

  Across the English Channel, Duke William was talking to Tostig and his sons Skuli and Ketel. The Duke was sceptical, to say the least, as he listened while Tostig tried to persuade him an alliance between the two of them was just what he needed.

  ‘Think how much easier it would be to take possession of England if you had my supporters behind you. All I ask is that, in return for my help, I be reinstated to my old earldom.’

  William eyed Tostig coldly. ‘How many ships do you have?’ he asked.

  ‘Twenty.’

  ‘Twenty. That’s not very many. By the end of the summer I shall have a thousand.’

  ‘A thousand!’

  ‘You sound surprised.’

  ‘I am a little, my Lord.’

  ‘You doubt my word?’

  ‘Not at all, my Lord. It’s just that that would be three times bigger than the entire Norwegian navy.’

  ‘Do you see something wrong with that?’

  ‘Not at all, Duke William. It just seems like a lot of ships.’

  ‘We need them for the horses.’

  ‘The horses?’

  ‘We’re taking our cavalry when we go to England, naturally.’

  ‘Naturally,’ replied Tostig, trying hard to visualise the scene.

  ‘We Normans find cavalry indispensable to warfare. Naturally we will require transport to get them across the sea. That’s why we need so many ships.’

  ‘Can’t you just capture English horses when you get there? That’s what the Norsemen used to do.’

  ‘These are specially bred and trained horses. English horses wouldn’t be up to it.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘We’re building the ships ourselves. Can you imagine the amount of wood needed for such an enterprise?’

  ‘I think I can.’

  ‘I’ve had to cut down almost every tree in Normandy.’

  ‘I can imagine it. When you have your thousand ships, my Lord, will you have the men with the experience to sail them?’

  ‘We only need one.’

  ‘I’m sorry, my Lord, I don’t quite follow your reasoning,’ said Tostig, concealing his astonishment.

  ‘Any fool can sail a ship; you should know that. All you need is one man who knows the way and the rest will follow.’

  Tostig could hardly believe his ears and even without looking at them, he could tell Skuli and Ketel felt the same way.

  ‘It would be an education for you but I’m afraid you won’t be there.’

  ‘You think you can succeed without me?’

  ‘Your offer of help is very generous but I don’t think you or your men would cope with our sophisticated battle tactics. You’re best advised to find another way of taking revenge on your brother.’

  ‘Very well, my Lord,’ replied Tostig, concealing his anger, ‘I will.’

  ‘Will you be staying with us much longer, cousin?’ asked William in a tone that invited him to leave.

  ‘As much as I find your hospitality most agreeable, I’m afraid I have pressing matters to attend to. I’m sure you’ll understand, my Lord.’

  ‘Indeed I do, Earl Tostig. It was a pleasure to meet you. Should you wish to visit us again, you’ll be most welcome at court.’

  ‘Thank you, Duke William, I’ll remember that. Goodbye.’

  ‘Goodbye, Earl Tostig. Skuli. Ketel.’

  As the trio, accompanied by a few housecarls, made their way back to their ships Tostig, appearing agitated, asked his sons what was their opinion of the Duke.

  ‘He’s very confident. I should think he’s very impressive on land,’ answered Ketel.

  ‘I’d agree with that,’ added Skuli.

  ‘Do you think his invasion plans will work?’

  ‘I think he’ll end up at the bo
ttom of the sea.’

  ‘And you, Skuli, what do you think?’

  ‘He could end up anywhere. The bottom of the sea is as likely a place as any. If the conditions are perfect when he leaves port and they remain so for, what, a whole day, then there’s a possibility it can be done. But if the wind changes or the sea grows rough, he could end up anywhere.’

  In the Norman court the talk was of nothing but Tostig.

  ‘Are you sure it was wise to turn down his offer of help?’ asked William Warenne, slightly concerned.

  ‘Oh, I accepted his help, sure enough.’

  ‘I don’t understand, my Lord,’

  ‘Did you see how offended he was when I refused his offer? It really hurt his pride.’

  ‘Yes, my Lord,’ replied Warenne, none the wiser.

  ‘He’s bound to take it out on someone.’

  ‘I see, my Lord. You think he might attack the English?’

  ‘He’ll soon be off the coast of England creating havoc, mark my words.’

  ‘Yes, my Lord,’ responded Warenne flatly.

  ‘You see, if Tostig raids along the English coast the alarm will go out. Harold will call out the militia, or whatever he calls them. If he does, that means they might be waiting along the coast for months before we arrive. Who’s going to work in the fields, bring in the harvest and all the other things that need to be done? And most of all, how can he feed the thousands of men he’ll need to guard the coast? They’ll last no more than a month, six weeks at the very most. After that they’ll desert, turn on the local population and each other. Then, when they’ve finished creating mayhem, they’ll go home. When we get there, they’ll be exhausted, starved; they’ll have deserted or simply returned to their huts.’

  ‘Brilliant, my Lord.’

  ‘I knew you’d think so.’

  Leaving Normandy in a foul mood, Tostig headed not to raid along the south coast of England but to Denmark to seek the help of his cousin, King Swein. Sailing across the North Sea, he found the welcome less than friendly. Swein was not open to persuasion; how could he help one cousin without making an enemy of the other? Besides, as far as he was concerned, Harold was the rightful king. After a week of Tostig’s best efforts to cajole him, Swein finally managed to make it clear he could expect no help from Denmark.

  So it was that once again Tostig sailed north, this time heading for Norway. It was an act of desperation. When Tostig was refused help by Swein, he was quite despondent but then he had a flash of inspiration. The old Gota River Treaty had appeared in his thoughts, as though from nowhere. He left Denmark, setting sail for Norway with the hope of persuading its king, Harald Sigurdsson, that there were rich pickings waiting for him in the south.

  Tostig arrived in Norway in low spirits, knowing this was his last chance to win to his side someone powerful enough to mount a successful invasion. Under a grey, rain-laden sky, he entered Trondheim. With Skuli and Ketel, he made his way with a small escort to King Harald Sigurdsson’s great hall. On the way, they passed a rubbish heap, upon which lay stretched out, facing the sky, the decomposing body of a man, a young adult by the look of him.

  Tostig noticed the sight had caught the attention of his sons.

  ‘It’s what they do with their suicides,’ he said flatly, in an attempt to calm them.

  ‘Thank heavens it’s not what they do to unwelcome visitors,’ Skuli replied in an attempt at humour.

  ‘Oh, they do that sometimes, too,’ replied Tostig dryly.

  ‘I’m really glad we came here, Dad.’

  ‘You might be, soon. In the meantime don’t look at any of the men for too long and don’t look at any of the women at all.’

  ‘Anything else?’

  ‘Yes. Whatever happens, don’t show any fear.’

  After being challenged by a guard, Tostig and his two sons were taken to Harald Sigurdsson, who sat impressively on his throne, looking every part the mighty Viking warrior. As he stood to welcome them, the full height of his six foot six inch frame was revealed. His blond hair hung loose, flowing down over the broad expanse of his shoulders. He was powerfully built and looked immensely strong. There was a resolution about his face too. His blue eyes sparkled with life, although something about them gave him, at times, a somewhat demonic look.

  By his side sat his queen, Elizabeth, a young beauty from Kiev.

  ‘Welcome, Earl Tostig,’ said the King. ‘I’ve been expecting a visit from you. Come here spying for your brother, have you?’

  ‘If that’s what your informants tell you, you’ll need to get some more reliable spies.’

  ‘Perhaps I’ll recruit you.’

  ‘You can recruit me if it’s my brother you’ve a quarrel with, but to a purpose other than spying.’

  ‘Tell me about it while you join me at my table.’ Sigurdsson indicated for Tostig and his sons to be seated and called for food and drink.

  ‘So, Tostig, why do you come to visit me?’

  ‘Because you have a claim to the throne of England.’

  ‘The Gota River Treaty,’ Harald replied.

  ‘Yes. I can make arrangements for the nobility of England to support your claim.’

  ‘Why would you want to help me, Tostig?’

  ‘Because by rights I should be Earl of Northumbria.’

  ‘And why aren’t you?’

  ‘Because of my brother’s boundless ambition; an ambition that would stop at nothing to grab the throne, even if it meant siding with his own brother’s enemy.’

  ‘I thought it was Edward who banished you?’

  ‘It was, but he was forced by circumstance.’

  ‘Couldn’t the same be said of your brother?’

  ‘No. It was just the excuse he needed to grab power for himself. He planned the whole thing, the rising in the North, everything.’

  Tostig paused for a second. ‘Why don’t we join forces?’ he continued, more calmly. ‘An earldom for a kingdom, surely that’s fair exchange? Think of it, if I were your ally, conquest of England would be an easy matter. Later, should matters of state bring you back to Norway, if you chose, I could rule the entire country for you in your absence. Soon, you would, as the King of two great countries, have the wealth and the manpower to finally overcome Swein and Denmark. Times would be the way they were under Knut, with all three countries united under one great king, one great emperor.’

  Tostig could see how much the idea appealed to Sigurdsson.

  Harald suspected Tostig had little support in England, but thought twenty ships and the crews to man them might come in useful. Besides, even if only a few people came out to help him, so much the better. He could easily take care of Tostig later, but for now the picture he had painted of Sigurdsson as the new Knut formed a dazzling vision in his mind’s eye.

  ‘Tostig, I will discuss this with my council. Now you and your sons are my guests. Eat and drink heartily.’

  So Tostig and his sons did as the King bade them, while the court discussed their guest’s proposition. First to speak was Ulf Ospaksson, the King’s oldest and most trusted friend.

  ‘My lords, I would commend you to forget any ideas Earl Tostig has about capturing the English Crown. He is, after all, an Englishman and it is well known that the English have a dreadful reputation for unreliability. Who is to say when our fleet arrives in England our esteemed guest would be there to meet us?

  ‘If he has support in England now, who is to say he will have it in the future? But what if he does have support and his English allies turn out to support him? How many will there be? Will they stay if the fighting gets rough?

  ‘As many of you will know, the English have many good fighting men; housecarls just like here in Norway. They have a formidable reputation and each one of them, it is supposed, is worth two of ours.

  ‘Finally, if we are to launch an expedition against the English, our best chance is this summer. The English king is new to the throne and I understand has problems with Duke William in Normandy who is, as I
speak, preparing to invade. Do we really want to raise a huge army to cross the sea in force and suffer all the problems that would entail, and with what chance of success?’

  Ulf Ospaksson left the questions to hang in the air, looked around the hall then took his seat.

  ‘Does anyone speak against Ulf Ospaksson?’ asked the King.

  ‘I do.’ It was Skule Kongsfostre who spoke. Skule was a close friend of Sigurdsson’s son, Olaf. He had taken a liking to Tostig and besides, he was a young warrior with a reputation to make. Now that the war with Denmark was over, he had to look elsewhere for glory.

  ‘Everyone knows of Ulf Ospaksson’s bravery, how he and Ragnvald Brusesson saved our king’s life when he was a youth and took him on the great adventure, which led to his being our king today. Against all the odds they rose to power and position. Who could have seen when King Harald, no more than a youth, was dragged from a ditch, wounded and exhausted from fighting a lost battle, that he would one day be king?

  ‘A warrior cares not for the odds; a warrior cares for glory. Ulf Ospaksson says the English are unreliable; if so, they will be so much easier to defeat. If no Englishman turns out to help us then how much greater will be the glory? And how much richer will we be with fewer to share the plunder?’ Skule paused to let his message drive home.

  A loud chorus of agreement greeted his last remark.

  ‘It looks as though the court agrees with Skule, father,’ Olaf remarked.

  Sigurdsson replied, turning his attention to Tostig, ‘It looks as though you’ll have some company when you next return to England.’

  ‘I’m glad that’s your decision. When do you think you will be ready, my Lord?’

  ‘Around August, I expect.’

  ‘Good. That will give me plenty of time to raise men in Flanders.’ And, he thought, my money won’t have run out.

  ‘Well, now we have decided, let me tell you of some of my previous victories in the Mediterranean,’ said the King.

  Sigurdsson liked nothing more than to tell of his adventures as a young man. Everyone at court knew them off by heart. Now Sigurdsson had a fresh audience, he could tell them all anew.

  ‘You know, there was one time when I was a general fighting for the Emperor of Byzantium in Sicily; all the major towns were prepared for my arrival. They knew my reputation, you see. They were ready for direct attacks or sieges but there was one thing they were not prepared for. You know what that was?’