“Good riddance!” said Mairin. “I know I must marry again, but at least we shall not be troubled by that pompous fool any longer.”
“Any candidates?” teased Brand.
“I think father means me to marry a Norman lord, and you a Norman lady, brother.”
“Harold will be England’s next king, sister. Even I see the way the wind blows. If Edward will not change the succession then Harold will forcibly take the kingdom.”
“And Duke William will take it away from Harold,” Mairin replied. “I agree with father, Brand. England cannot go on like this. Edward is the first Anglo-Saxon king of England in many years and he is actually half-Norman. England’s rulers have been Danish, Norwegian, Swedish. The northmen are forever squabbling over our land. It is time for change. We need a strong ruler, and I do not believe Earl Harold is that man.
“I do not trust a man who out of ambition puts aside his wife of many years to marry an enemy’s widow because he feels her brothers will be of service to him in his battle for England’s throne. Such behavior does not speak well of Harold’s loyalty. We cannot be certain that he was not behind the uprising in York that unseated a rival brother. Look who is put in his place. Morkar! A mere boy! A boy who can be used and manipulated. Earl Harold will never bring peace to England, Brand.”
“And you think William can?”
“Yes, I do. William is strong. With him upon the throne I do not believe outsiders will ever again attack us. That has been one of our greatest problems. We have been prey to all those seeking new lands. As for our people I believe that they will welcome the eventual peace that comes with the advantage of having a strong ruler.”
“You do not think the Normans who come with William will be seeking new lands? His army will be made up of a host of younger sons all eager to make their fortunes. I do not like Harold Godwinson, but at least he is English. I am not certain I want some foreign-born king ruling over me.”
“Duke William is a fair man. Father has always said so, Brand. He will not confiscate the lands belonging to those who support him. Only those who rebel against him.”
“Nonetheless,” said Brand, “for the first time in my life I am glad to live in this backwater on a small and not very tempting estate. With luck father and I shall be able to stay put until after the fighting, and then simply pledge our loyalty to the winner.”
Mairin chuckled. “Brother Bayhard always said I was the more intelligent, but I do not think it so, Brand. I think father would very much approve our staying clear of factional fighting.”
“We are safe for now, Mairin. Father’s first loyalty is pledged to King Edward. I can pledge no loyalty other than what my father ordains. As long as the king lives, and father remains in Constantinople, Aelfleah is safe.”
King Edward enjoyed a happy Christmastide at Westminster, during which time the great church he had spent his reign building was hallowed. This was done on the Feast of the Holy Innocents, December 28th. Shortly thereafter the king fell mortally ill. He died on Twelfthnight, January 5th. When word of his death was brought to all the four corners of England there was other news as well. The king had been buried immediately on January 6th, after which the mourners had allowed Harold Godwinson to crown himself king of England.
It was mid-January when word of this finally filtered into Aelfleah. The following dawn Brand and Mairin released the last two of Timon Theocrates’ black-and-white pigeons with a message capsule attached to a leg of each bird. The simple note was written in Mairin’s clear hand. Edward is dead. Harold crowned. Come home.
If either of the birds got through to Constantinople Aldwine Athelsbeorn would return by the spring.
Meanwhile like every other manor in rural England, Aelfleah anxiously awaited the outcome of Harold Godwinson’s piracy of the English throne. It was not long in coming.
Duke William protested that Earl Harold had broken a pledge made two years prior supporting William’s claim to England’s throne. Harold ignored the Norman ruler. It was a serious and foolish breach, for among the kingdoms in Europe a man’s word was neither given nor taken lightly. Those who might have been sympathetic toward Harold now questioned his honesty. William prepared for invasion while obtaining the support of the Holy Roman Emperor, Henry IV, and the pope.
On the night of the 24th of April there appeared in the sky what some called a long-haired star, and others called a comet. For seven nights it blazed so brightly across the skies of Europe and England that it could even be seen during daylight. Tides were abnormally high and there were great showers of shooting stars on at least three nights. Both women and animals gave birth prematurely in the hysteria surrounding the phenomenon. Some felt the comet portended the end of the world. Others interpreted it as God’s obvious displeasure with Harold Godwinson’s usurpation of England’s throne. They said the comet was being used to light William of Normandy’s way to victory over Harold. The pope obviously agreed for he publicly declared his support for Duke William, and excommunicated Harold.
The comet disappeared as quickly as it had come, but Harold’s troubles were just beginning. Suddenly his brother, Tostig, arrived on the Isle of Wight where he was greeted warmly, and given ships, money and provisions. Meanwhile Harold gathered about him a huge army with which to repel William when he came. All of England waited poised.
At Aelfleah, however, there was a celebration to welcome home Aldwine Athelsbeorn. He had wisely stopped at Duke William’s court first and sworn his fealty. Since Edward’s death, Aldwine was free to pledge his loyalty to whom he chose.
“You English are always swearing me fealty,” said the duke wryly, “but once you gain the safety of your own shores you deny me.”
“Am I the only Englishman to swear to you since the death of King Edward?” the Thegn of Aelfleah asked.
“No,” said William, “you are not.”
“And do you distrust the others also, my lord?”
The duke chuckled. “I can see why my cousin Edward sent you to Byzantium. You are clever, Aldwine Athelsbeorn.”
“I am also a man of my word, my lord. Norman blood runs in my veins also, but even if it didn’t I would still think you the best king for England. There is no advantage to my having come here for my holding is isolated and unimportant. Although I have always been happy with Aelfleah, I doubt any among your followers would want my poor lands. I am not a man of ambition, and I seek nothing of you, my lord. I might have hurried home through Flanders, as did my five companions, but I chose to come and swear my loyalty to you, and if you will accept it, I will never betray you.” Then the thegn knelt, bowing his head in submission to the duke.
William of Normandy nodded almost imperceptibly. Looking down at the bowed head his hard, handsome face softened a little, and he said, “I accept your loyalty, Aldwine Athelsbeorn, and that of your son and family. I am grateful for it. I shall need good friends when I come to England. Rise now, and go in safety.”
The thegn rose to his feet, and bowed again to the duke. “I shall look for your coming, my lord,” he said. “When will I see you again?”
“I plan to be crowned in London by Christmas at the latest, Aldwine Athelsbeorn. You and your family are invited to my coronation.”
When the Englishman had departed the duke turned to his single companion, saying, “Well, Josselin, what do you think?”
“He seems sincere, my lord William, but one can never really be certain. If, heaven forfend, you lose in your battle to Harold Godwinson, I suspect he would as quickly swear his fealty to Harold.”
“That, my young friend, is called survival,” laughed the duke. “I shall find lands for you in England, Joss. When you must defend your own holding we will see how firm your ideals are. I will wager you quickly learn the fine art of compromise yourself.”
The younger man smiled. “I have decided upon a motto for my crest,” he said. “What do you think of Honor Above All?”
“That you set your descendants an overly ha
rd task,” replied the duke. “Do not, my young friend, feel that because of the circumstances of your birth you must strive harder.”
“Haven’t you, my lord?”
“Touché, Joss. Perhaps I have at that, but there comes a time when a man must stop berating himself for something that was not of his making. It is true that you and I were both born out of the bonds of holy wedlock, but both of our fathers loved our mothers, and they recognized our births. Neither of us has really suffered the stigma of bastardy other than that occasional taunt from someone not even worthy of our notice. If Raoul de Combourg had been married to your mother when you were conceived, could he have loved you any more? I think not.”
“Still,” said Josselin de Combourg, “the circumstances of my birth have made it impossible for me to reap any gain in Brittany. My younger, legitimate brother is my father’s heir. I pledged myself to your service over twenty years ago, but were you not bound for England in the spring I should yet be landless. A man without lands is nothing, my lord William.”
The duke nodded his agreement. “If there were no English throne, Joss, I should find an estate somewhere with which to reward you for your loyalty to me all these years. I owe you much. Had you not been my messenger and bolstered Matilda’s confidence during the years I courted her, during the years that the pope refused us permission to wed, I do not think she would have had the strength to wait. There were others who would have seen her wed elsewhere. In England you shall make your fortune, my good and true friend. I shall need you there for I have not many friends such as that humble thegn, Aldwine Athelsbeorn.
“He is not a man of the court, but my cousin Edward wrote that in a world where so many men are not what they seem, Aldwine Athelsbeorn was exactly as he appeared. An honest man. He is also a skilled negotiator. We may eventually make use of him, but for now I wish him Godspeed in the last days of his long journey home.”
Aldwine Athelsbeorn did not know of Duke William’s blessing upon his journey, but the same day that he left the duke’s court he embarked for England. Within three days he rode across the little Aldford river and through his own gates. He had seen as he came from the coast the open preparations for the coming war, but in Aelfleah’s valley there were only preparations for the spring planting. The meadows held a bumper crop of lambs who gamboled in the spring sunshine. There was peace here, and he was relieved.
A young lad had seen him as he crossed over the river, and dropping his hoe the boy ran toward the manor house shouting as he ran, “The lord comes! The lord is home!”
Eada ran from the house, and seeing her, Aldwine spurred his horse. He leapt from the big beast’s back as they met and caught her up in his arms, kissing her soundly. Mairin came from The Forest with a basket of new herbs and roots but upon seeing her parents, she dropped her basket and ran to greet her father, almost colliding with Brand who had hurried from the fields where he had been supervising the serfs. Hugging, laughing, and weeping with their joy they moved into the house. Eada called for food and drink to be brought to her husband.
“What news?” demanded Brand, unable to wait even though his mother sent him a reproving look.
“Preparations for war, of course,” replied the thegn. “It’s evident everywhere. I stopped in Normandy to pledge my fealty to the duke.”
“Do they prepare for war in Normandy, father?” Mairin asked.
“Aye, and God help England if they resist.”
“But it is said that Harold Godwinson has a larger army than the duke,” said Brand. “How can the duke hope to beat such great numbers?”
“Harold Godwinson is a fine warrior, but William of Normandy is a better one, Brand, and he is a leader to whom men flock. From all over the French kingdoms, from Brittany, from Flanders, from Aquitaine and the Languedoc men are coming to join his army for he inspires loyalty. He has endless monies and great resources, and in the end he will prevail. I but pray it is sooner than later for the sake of England and her peoples.”
“What will you do, father,” said Mairin, “if Harold Godwinson calls for the Fyrd to be raised? How can you not go?”
“Once again I thank God for Aelfleah’s isolation. But if we are called, I shall find myself too ill from my long journey, and unable to answer Earl Harold’s request. As for you, my son, you will then be forced to remain here protecting Aelfleah as I will be unable to do so. Remember, Brand, there is nothing dishonorable in refusing to commit a foolish act even if everyone else around you does. There are those who will speak of honor and duty in this matter, but having pledged my fealty to Duke William, it would be dishonorable for me to fight against him. Our duty, Brand, is to your mother, your sister, our people, and to Aelfleah.”
All during the summer of 1066 England waited for the invasion to come. Though William of Normandy was more than ready the winds would not cooperate and blew steadily from the wrong direction. Earl Harold had indeed called for the Fyrd to be raised. They learned it from a traveler passing through the valley. No one, however, had come to Aelfleah. In the invasion hysteria they had been overlooked. Along the coast facing Normandy the English army waited and waited for the attack that never came.
The army that had been raised from the Fyrd, which was a local militia under the command of its various thegns, grew restless. Many had come from a great distance and as the summer wore on the local people grew tired of feeding the great horde of men who did nothing but eat, drink, wench, and polish their weapons. Then messages began to arrive for the waiting thegns from their wives. It was harvest time, and there were no harvesters.
The coming of Earl Tostig on the Isle of Wight caused momentary excitement particularly when he sailed into the Humber with sixty ships. Mercia’s young Earl Edwin came with a large land force, and drove Tostig off. Aldwine Athelsbeorn, hearing of the battle, smiled grimly and said, “Englishmen fighting Englishmen. This is what Harold Godwinson and his brothers have brought us to. There will be worse to come, you may be certain. Tostig has gone to Scotland, but you can be sure we have not heard the last of him.”
In September Harold Godwinson was finally forced to disband his army. It was obvious that William of Normandy would not be coming to England this year, and the harvest would not wait any longer. The good weather was almost over, and the winds had kept William at bay all summer. Soon the waters that separated England and Normandy would be too unpleasant to navigate and only the heartiest fisherfolk and traders would venture out upon that choppy sea.
Just as the army returned home the King of Norway, Harold Hardraade, decided to press his tenuous claim to the English throne. Joining with Earl Tostig, he swept down the Yorkshire coast. Young Earl Morkar sent to his brother, Earl Edwin, for help. This time a call to arms arrived at Aelfleah.
“We must go,” said Aldwine Athelsbeorn.
“But why?” Eada demanded. “Did you not say you would not answer the fyrd?”
“I said I would not fight William of Normandy, but this is not William. It is that damned savage Norwegian, and Tostig! How can I refuse Earl Edwin’s call to aid his brother? I am a Mercian, and it is Mercia’s earl who asks my help. Brand and I must go.”
Brand was beside himself with excitement. He was past twenty, but had never had the opportunity to participate in a battle. Joyfully he prepared his weapons, sharpening his sword blade, honing his spear, while his mother grimly checked his chain mail to be certain that it was in good order.
Mairin took Dagda aside. “Go with them,” she begged. “I know that it has been many years since you have smelt the winds of war, and I do not ask you to fight, but stay near them, Dagda. Bring them safely home.”
Dagda did not ask her what she saw in the runes she had cast although he had seen her spread the stones upon their velvet cloth three times. He knew he would come back safely because Mairin would have warned him if he needed to take extra care.
In the days following their departure the women of Aelfleah manor completed their chores as if in a daze. It had been
many years since their village had been touched by war. The old women shook their heads and told terrible tales while the young women fretted for the safe return of husbands and lovers. They arose at first light, and sought their beds shortly after sunset. Each found comfort in sleep. Mairin did not.
At York a great battle was fought, and the Norwegians triumphed. There was terrible slaughter of the English forces. Dagda gathered together those of Aelfleah’s people who were alive and recalling his old battle skills, he circumvented the Norwegians and led them all home to their quiet valley. Seeing the look on Eada’s face as he gave her the body of her only son for burial, he realized the futility of war, and wept with her.
As they stood by Brand’s grave he said to Eada, “If it is any consolation, I can tell you that Brand was as brave and noble a warrior as any I have ever seen. It was an awful battle for his baptism of fire. More skilled men than he lost their lives.”
She nodded silently, and he knew his words had brought her a small measure of comfort. He was grateful she did not ask the circumstances of her son’s death, for Dagda did not think he could relate the truth to this gentle woman.
Mairin, of course, had asked him, and he had told her that as Brand knelt over his injured father he was struck from behind by a helmeted warrior who then disappeared back into the thick of the battle. He told her of the look of total surprise that filled Brand’s blue eyes in the instant of his death.
“You cast the runes thrice,” he said. “Did they not warn you of this tragedy?”
“You know how hard it is for me to see things relating to those closest to me,” she answered him. “I asked the runes if father and Brand would return home. Thrice I asked, and three times the runes said they would return. It did not occur to me that Brand would be dead, and father mortally wounded. If I had been more specific I might have warned them.”
“Then it was their fate,” replied Dagda. “You are not to blame. How could you have known?”
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