Northman Part 2

by M J Porter

  An uncomfortable silence fell, and Leofwine looked at the men before him; the six of them. He didn’t feel as though the combined knowledge would serve England well now that it had no king.

  Cnut spoke first,

  “My father is dead. He has commanded the ship-army to me. All of the ship-army. Not one of my men will move without my say so.”

  So spoken, he rounded the wooden writing table in the room and sat in a comfortable cushion backed chair. He looked every inch the noble king then, and Leofwine could, for the first time since Swein had asked him to make him king, actually visualise him in that position.

  “Is that a threat?” Eadric quibbled immediately, his voice devoid of all respect.

  “Not a threat, just the truth,” Cnut replied, firmly meeting Eadric’s eyes. He didn’t like Eadric, not one bit. “And of course, I have my allies in the Mercian lands.”

  Eadric’s eyes glinted dangerously, for that was most definitely a threat.

  “Do you want to be king of England?” Ulfcytel asked into the tense atmosphere.

  “Of course I do,” Cnut spat. “My father won this land for me, and I intend to keep it.”

  “But we have another king already who can take your father’s place immediately,” Uhtred offered.

  “Ah, if you mean Æthelred, I’m surprised that any of you would want him back. He was a terrible king, and I’d be better than him. Is it because you’re all related to him by marriage that you want him reinstated?”

  “No Cnut, it’s because he’s a member of our native royal family. His family have ruled the lands of Wessex for nearly two hundred years and the area of the English for almost a hundred. He’s our king by right of his birth,” Leofwine cooed.

  “Birth should mean nothing. Surely it’s better to have a strong king who can keep your land safe, than a weak king who’s only king by virtue of his birth?” Cnut asked a little arrogantly.

  Leofwine restrained himself from pointing out that Cnut was only in his current position because of the nature of his birth, and that he was now the heir to the land of Denmark precisely because of his birth. It was pointless to fuel his bubbling anger further.

  “What your father did in conquering our land through force does not legitimise your claim,” he said, trying to convince Cnut of the truth of the matter.

  ‘Then I need to conquer you again?” Cnut asked with malice shining from his eyes, a challenge in his voice.

  “That remains to be seen,” Eadric spoke now, his tone filled with contempt and Cnut’s eyes flashed dangerously. If Eadric didn’t watch what he said there was going to be all out war in this tiny room.

  Luckily Ulfcytel interjected at that point,

  “There should be no need for further engagements. The new king can and will be decided upon peacefully.” His voice was firm but calm as he flicked his gaze between the two men.

  “It is, Cnut, the role of the Witan to make decisions as to who will rule as king when there is no obvious choice. Your father circumnavigated these rules but still, he had to seek our agreement to enable him to rule. You’ll have to do the same.”

  Cnut’s face darkened further as Ulfcytel spoke. He’d apparently not considered this when he was threatening the very men who ruled in the Witan.

  “The ealdormen are the king’s representatives, and that is all, chosen by the king and maintained in their position by the king. Is that not so?” Cnut asked Leofwine, his voice showing his confusion.

  “Yes and also no. The ealdormen, governing as they do the old Saxon kingdoms almost in their entireties, Mercia, Wessex, the East Angles, Kent and Northumbria, speak for the people of those lands and serve as the king’s voice in their areas of power. Yes, they have the position at the hands of the king but they are also advisors and must speak their mind, and in this strange situation, we must protect the people and the kingdom.”

  “So you see me as a threat?” he snapped, his eyes glowing with the reflected light of the orange braziers.

  “It’s difficult to know what you are,” Leofwine answered honestly. On the bench, the three men shuffled uncomfortably but offered no words to counter what Leofwine had said.

  “You do command a great host of ships which only two months ago were ravaging our people and our land,” Ulfcytel pointed out, not unkindly, but with no warmth either.

  “And only two months ago you were bowing your knee to my father, and begging him to stop attacking your lands,” Cnut countered aggressively.

  “And what assurance do I have that if I take you as my king, you’ll govern the same way that your father intended. None at all Cnut and everyone in this room knows only too well that you are not, and never have been, the man your father is.” Ulfcytel’s voice dripped with scorn and anger combined. Leofwine was surprised to find that Ulfcytel had taken the ravaging’s of Thorkell and Cnut so much to heart. But then, they’d once threatened his lands, his people and his wife. It was to be expected.

  “You have my personal assurance that I will rule as my father would have. Why would I wish to undermine all the work he did here, the battles that ultimately led to his death. He conquered this land and your people and now, as is right and correct, it should become my kingdom. Let me assure you all that I don’t want to make you my enemy but neither will I tolerate losing what my father lost his life to gain.”

  “Are you trying to frighten us into making you king?” Eadric asked, taunting the youth, his eyes ablaze with condescension.

  “There’s no need to intimidate or frighten. You know the men I have at my command, even now, waiting in their ships and ready to come to my aid. Their commanders sit in the hall over there.” Cnut responded, leaning forward keenly in his chair so that his elbows rested on the archbishop’s desk, as he inclined his head towards where his father had died.

  “If that’s not a threat then I don’t know what is,” Eadric responded triumphantly, turning to gaze at Ulfcytel and Uhtred, as though he’d accomplished some monumental task. Leofwine held his frustration in check. Clearly, both Eadric and Cnut had every intention of being as belligerent as possible.

  “We need to discuss this rationally,” Uhtred intervened, standing and walking towards Leofwine. Leofwine was surprised by the show of unconditional support for his actions, and Eadric’s eyes narrowed in annoyance.

  At his feet Hammer stirred a little, standing stiffly to see who stood with his master and Uhtred bent slightly to allow the beast to place his muzzle within his open hand. Leofwine managed to mask his surprise at such a total show of acceptance only because he’d been watching how he acted for most of his adult life.

  “Are you saying this is not rational?” Eadric asked mockingly, but he elicited no rise from Uhtred.

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Uhtred muttered darkly, looking at Ulfcytel questioningly.

  He stood abruptly and walked towards Leofwine as well,

  “I agree. I apologise for my outburst. It’s difficult to see an ally where an enemy once stood, and vice versa,” he offered as an afterthought, as Eadric bristled at the obvious.

  In his seat, Cnut looked at the three men arrayed before him with a calculating expression on his face.

  “Gentlemen,” he began, his tone more conciliatory than it had been in the whole time that had lapsed since his father’s death. “I apologise for my behaviour. As I’m sure you can imagine, I’m distressed by my father’s untimely death. We may not have always been close, but I respected and honoured him, as he did me. We must arrange a fitting funeral for him, here in England, and we must ensure that no matter what, there is a smooth transfer of power. If it is not me that you seek as king, then I will take my men and leave here as soon as possible. But I will return next summer or the summer after because I believe this land is mine to claim. If you take me as your king now, obviously you’ll not have to contend with any more attacks on your people and your land.”

  Leofwine allowed the reasoned words of Cnut to sink in before he formulated a respon
se, but then Uhtred answered for him.

  “Your honesty is appreciated, and we would all thank you for that. Sadly, you’ve not touched on any oaths we’ve already pledged to our previous king. Your father took oaths from us, but these don’t extend to you, sadly, and this means that our familial ties must be considered as well as the general good of our people.”

  “You’d really have him back because you are related to him?” Cnut asked incredulously.

  “How is it different to what you ask of us now? You want us to make you our king because of your blood tie to your father.”

  “I want you to make me king because I should inherit, as would your old king’s sons if he was now dead instead of my father. I understood that was how the laws of inheritance worked in your lands.”

  Uhtred looked pained at Cnut’s entirely accurate summing up of the prevailing situation, and Leofwine wondered, not for the first time, how they would resolve this seemingly impossible quandary. What Cnut said was true, and in speaking to Leofwine of his wishes, Swein had effectively written his own will, as witnessed by the archbishop and himself.

  Eadric had sunk back to his place on the bench, watching with amusement as the three men argued with their consciousness’s. He’d apparently made his decision, and it was to get Æthelred back. He just seemed to be sitting and waiting for everyone else in the room to realise the same thing.

  But would they?

  For all his oaths, Leofwine was torn. Swein, for all his unwelcome attentions, had been imbibed with a definite “kingly’ aura that Æthelred had always lacked. The kingdom had felt peaceful under his short reign, and he was if he was honest with himself, angry that the little piece of calm they’d endured was to come to such an abrupt end.

  But if he gave his support to Cnut would the peace continue or would Æthelred and his sons rise against someone they would see as a usurper?

  Cnut was waiting for a response, more patiently than normal, but Leofwine had no words to offer.

  The silence hung thick and heavy in the air, almost tangible and still the men didn’t move or speak.

  A quiet knock at the door startled them all, and Leofwine strode towards it, wondering who would disturb them now.

  Wrenching open the door, he was greeted with the frightened face of his second oldest son.

  “Apologies father, but I have important news,” he heaved, out of breath from running to find his father and possible future king. “It concerns Cnut,” he offered by way of an explanation, and Cnut was on his feet and walking towards Leofric immediately.

  Cnut’s face was grim, his demeanour sorrowful, and Leofwine had the distinct feeling that he’d already given up his hopes of acceding to the throne peacefully.

  “My Lord Cnut,” Leofric offered respectfully, and Leofwine was pleased that he’d not faltered in his speech to the man who may, or may not, be their future king.

  “Yes Leofric,’ Cnut responded immediately.

  “Your men have sent word that they’re leaving and they wish you to join them.”

  Cnut’s eyes closed briefly in annoyance. He paused for barely a heartbeat and then he was all action again.

  “My thanks Leofric for bringing me the news so quickly. I’ll move quickly to reassert my control over them. Until then, chose who you will to be your king, Leofwine, but remember, I know my father extracted a promise from you, and I will see you fulfil that oath.”

  With that, he swept from the room leaving in his wake an unsolved problem and a bemused Leofwine. No matter what anyone else said, Cnut would make a good king. He was decisive, keen and happy to deal with more immediate issues first.

  A scuffle in the hallway and Cnut was back,

  “Leofwine, could you please see to my father’s burial. I fear that my men will need my full commitment for the immediate future and I’d not see him abandoned where he lies. I will return for him in three days, can you make the body ready to be transported.”

  “I’d be honoured my Lord,” he said bowing his head, surprised to see that he meant it.

  Behind him, the three other men milled about as no decisions had yet been reached. Leofwine looked at all the men and turned to his son, still standing there waiting for further instructions.

  “Leofric, I need you to go home and tell Northman what’s happened. He should probably return to London, but tell him he doesn’t have to.”

  Leofric straightened his posture at his father’s words and glanced at him knowingly.

  “You think Eadric will recall Æthelred?” he whispered.

  “I know he will. It’s just a matter of whether all the ealdormen and the churchmen agree with the decision. I imagine that when I let him out of here, he’ll be gone to Normandy in a heartbeat.”

  “And you want Northman to shadow him as he’s done in the past?”

  “No, I don’t. Make that clear to him. Please. But, and we both know this, he’ll want to do it. He’ll feel it’s his duty. And he’ll be angry with us if we don’t tell him at the earliest opportunity.”

  Leofric nodded at his father’s words.

  “And what will you do?” he asked in a whispered rush.

  “What I’m oath sworn to do, I imagine,” Leofwine responded giving his son the first honest answer he’d allowed himself since Swein’s death.

  Leofric for all his young years looked at his father with understanding and comprehension mixed together.

  “You always do the right thing, father, remember that.”

  At that Leofric left quietly and Leofwine turned back to face the intrigued faces of the other ealdormen.

  “Cnut is gone to quell his shipmen,” he offered by way of an explanation.

  “Will he be back?” Eadric sneered into the tomb cold silence that greeted his words.

  “I suppose that depends on whether his men take well to him now being their commander,” Uhtred offered, apparently aggravated by Eadric’s tone.

  “And in the meantime?”

  “We must decide what is best for our land and our people, and I don’t think it’s an easy decision.”

  Uhtred was shaking his head, and Ulfcytel looked concerned, only Eadric was unaffected by the news of Cnut’s desertion of them.

  “We should sleep on it. Meet tomorrow. Everyone is here. The country is at peace. Nothing will happen if we take a day to consider,” Leofwine reasoned. None looked pleased with delaying the inevitable, but the two men who’d decided to stand with Leofwine looked happy to have half a decision reached. Eadric, however, did not.

  “Why should we wait? We should recall our king now.”

  “A day will make no difference,” Uhtred reiterated while Eadric flashed angrily red.

  “He’s your father by marriage, grandfather to your youngest children. Why would you not recall him?”

  “Because I don’t wish to return to war,” Uhtred responded turning his back on Eadric as he did so. “Tomorrow morning we will meet here again, and we’ll have reached a resolution. Until then, no one should tell anyone of Swein’s death, and by no one Eadric, I mean you.” His words were uttered without emotion, lending, even more, menace to the implied threat. But he didn’t wait for a response, striding from the room, Ulfcytel following on behind him.

  Leofwine thought to make his exit as well, but Eadric’s words floated to him from his position on the wooden bench,

  “You have the most to lose if Æthelred returns, and we all know it. And so does Æthelred.”

  “And you have the most to lose if he doesn’t.” And with that, he swept from the room. Eadric could say nothing he didn’t already know.

  Chapter 2

  AD1014 February

  Leofwine

  London

  When he found Oscetel, he quickly laid out his plans for the removal of Swein’s body. It was not to be done without honour, but it needed to be done quickly and without arousing too much suspicion. Leofwine didn’t enjoy the subterfuge that was necessary but knew that it was necessary, at least for now. It
wouldn’t help anyone’s bid for the throne if panic ensued.

  Oscetel had news as well. Leofric had ridden out only moments ago with a small force of five of the fastest horses and household troops. Cnut had almost in the same moment, boarded his ship and was being rowed down the Thames to where the rest of the ship army was slowly retreating. Without their king they’d voted with their oars and demanded that Cnut either come to them or they’d return to his brother in Denmark, possibly stranding Cnut in a land that was potentially hostile to him. Somehow, though, the majority of the English people didn’t know that Swein was dead.

  “Is it common knowledge that the king is dead, or is there time yet?”

  “Few know, and those that do can be trusted. The archbishop, of course, is aware, and he’s informed some of his followers and those who need to know but the household troops of most of the men know nothing, and it’s best to keep it that way. With so many armed men in such a confined space, anything could happen. How did Eadric take the news?” All the while they spoke within the crowded palace, they were aware of the gazes of people on them. They might not know what had happened, but most knew that something monumental had happened.

  “With his usual smirk of amusement.”

  “I was more than enjoying his disgrace,” Oscetel commented sourly, forcing a smile to Leofwine’s grim face.

  “You weren’t alone. I can assure you.”

  With no further words, Oscetel left the room, going to carry out his less than pleasant task. Leofwine felt that he should help as well but realised that he’d be more hindrance than a help and so resolved himself to a moody stare into the fire, Hammer at his heels.

  He sat and was quickly served with food and drink. Turning to thank the serving girl he noticed that she watched him intently. He quirked an eyebrow at her, and she rushed to whisper in his ear.

  Concerned to hear such words coming from her mouth, he abandoned his meal and strode back towards the room where Swein had only recently died.