Northman Part 2

by M J Porter

  The room was a hushed bustle of activity, but Oscetel noted his arrival immediately.

  “My Lord?” he queried.

  Glancing around him to make sure that no one overheard them speak he beckoned Oscetel closer,

  “The serving girl, if that’s who she was, has just shared some troubling news.”

  “And what is it?” Oscetel pressed.

  “The fleet have declared Cnut as their king and plan on returning to Denmark to enable him to take Harald’s throne.”

  Concern knotted Oscetel’s brow.

  “Does that mean that he’s forgotten about England?”

  “I doubt it. I imagine it means he wants both lands, as his father had before him.”

  Oscetel thought about that for a moment, as he watched the body of that very person being cleaned and made ready for transport.

  “Ambitious isn’t he?”

  “Yes, and it might not be to our advantage.”

  “Then what should be done?”

  “I don’t know. I'd like to know if Cnut had arranged for the girl to speak to me or whether it was merely her attempt at winning my favour.”

  “Shall I seek her out and question her?” Oscetel asked, it seeming to be the best way to find the answers to their questions.

  “No,” Leofwine replied heavily, “we’ll seek out Cnut instead and find out the truth of the rumours. If he is going to Denmark, then I can’t work for his advancement here. The men will not like it if the new king is so often absent from the country and indeed absent from the very beginning.”

  “And if he’s going to Denmark?”

  “We’ll send word to Æthelred, and quickly at that before Eadric can. Perhaps one of the men or a few of them could keep a close eye on him. I’d much prefer it if news of Æthelred’s reinstatement came from all four ealdormen and not just the one who causes the most problems.”

  Nodding at the words, Oscetel signalled for three of the most trustworthy of the men to come to their side. Leofwine offered a smirk of welcome to Horic’s son; he was a mirror image of his older father.

  “Orkning can you rush to follow Cnut and arrange a place for us to meet him with his father’s body? Ask him if we can also arrange to speak to him. And Lyfing, can you and Ælfhun stay as close to Eadric and his men as possible. We want to know if he sends word to Æthelred, and if he does, one of you will need to follow the messenger and the other rush back to inform us. We may need to intercept the messenger.”

  The men nodded at their instructions and left without so much as a word. Leofwine watched them go with interest. They represented two sides of the same coin; success and defeat; Cnut and Æthelred. He genuinely wondered which one would win and whether he’d survive this new storm.

  Chapter 3

  AD1014

  Northman

  Deerhurst

  Still clutching his head, Northman looked at his brother in shock, wondering if he’d heard the words correctly.

  “Swein’s dead?” he queried, just for his sanity.

  “Yes, yesterday morning,” Leofric spoke concisely, removing his winter clothing and stepping closer to the blazing fire.

  “And Cnut is king?” he asked, just to be sure he understood why his brother was here. He stumbled his way to the fire, fingering his swelling head gingerly.

  “It’s not quite that simple,” Leofric muttered, gratefully taking a cup of warmed mead from the servant who’d stirred at the noise of the boys in the great hall.

  “It never is,” Northman responded darkly, stifling an ouch as he dug his fingers too far into his bruised head.

  “What are you doing?” Leofric asked him, finally noticing his brother’s inattention with annoyance.

  “I hit my head before you came in,” he offered by way of explanation and then pointed towards Wulfstan’s chair. “On Wulfstan’s chair. I must have nodded off while I was beside it.”

  Leofric gave him an appraising look but didn’t grill him for any more details, of which Northman was pleased.

  “So, explain to me from the beginning. What did he die from?”

  At his words, a flurry at the door preceded the arrival of the household warriors who’d accompanied Leofric. Northman rose on seeing Olaf and padded over to him, a grin on his face. Olaf returned the smile with a knowing look and returned to the fireside with him.

  By now his mother had also awoken, and she and her two servants were seeing to the comfort of the men.

  “Have you heard then?” Olaf asked, and Northman nodded and shook his head at the same time.

  “Only part of the story. Come sit with Leofric and me, and mother,” he called softly over his shoulder to her, and she raised her eyebrows questioning at him as he beckoned her over. “I think you should listen to this conversation as well,” he offered by way of explanation, and with a few more directions to the servants, Æthelflæd made herself comfortable on one of the wooden stalls, and everyone turned their attention to Leofric.

  He paused a beat, taking a mouthful of warmed mead and then he began from the beginning.

  “Father has sent me home to tell you all that king Swein has died from a wound he gained in battle many months ago.”

  Northman was amazed at the news and noticed the same shock was mirrored on his mother’s face.

  “Then who is king now?” she asked first, her response almost identical to Northman’s only moments ago.

  Leofric shrugged in response.

  “I don’t know. No decision had been reached when father told me to leave. But Cnut has left, recalled to the ships by the commanders.”

  Northman could feel all the possibilities running through his mind. Æthelred, Cnut, Athelstan or even Edmund. Any of them could become king. But they’d have to be chosen by the Witan. Immediately his eyes narrowed, and he glanced at Leofric suspiciously.

  “Does father ask me to return to Eadric’s side?”

  “No, in fact, he made it very clear in the short time we had together, that that’s precisely what he doesn’t want to happen. You’ve been gone long enough. We all know that. He only wanted you informed.”

  Nodding with a distracted look on his face, the conversation between his mother and brother washed over him.

  “What does your father suggest we do?”

  “He didn’t give any instructions at all.”

  Æthelflæd narrowed her eyes as she looked at her second oldest son.

  “He is waiting to see what will happen next?”

  “Yes, and also no. I think he’s unsure what the best course of action is, and we all know that he promised Æthelred that he’d work for his reinstatement.”

  “So he’ll recall Æthelred then?” she pressed.

  “I don’t know,” Leofric responded, clearly annoyed with the complicated nature of their conversation. “All I know is that Swein’s dead, Cnut is gone and Eadric looks like a cat who licked the cream.”

  “I bet he just does,” Northman muttered darkly, recalled to the conversation by Leofric’s words. “I’m amazed he’s not demanded Æthelred’s return.”

  “I think he’s tried to, but with Cnut’s sudden departure it's hard to make any decision.”

  “I should come back to London with you,” Northman uttered, standing decisively.

  “No, you shouldn’t,” his mother cautioned. “You’ve only just returned home. Mildryth … ,” she said her voice trailing off, and Northman knew at that moment that she was right. He’d been home for a handful of days. He needed to spend time with his wife and his son and his new baby. He sunk back to his stool.

  Olaf looked at him with understanding on his face.

  “You need to stay here. Leofric and I can return to London, keep an eye on things. If I have to, I can weave my way back into Eadric’s affections.” Olaf spoke with no enthusiasm for the project, but Northman knew that he’d do it all the same. Anything for his friend.

  “That would be best,” his mother said, taking the decision away from him. “Your fath
er,” and she looked at Leofric, “and Leofwine,” she said turning to Olaf, “will do what he can to stay on top of the situation, he always does, but we must be ready to act if things go awry.”

  Nodding in agreement, Leofric yawned wildly, and Æthelflæd smiled at him.

  “Now the pair of you. Bed and sleep. We’ll wake you later. Nothing’s going to happen today that you can have any effect on.”

  Olaf yawned along with Leofric, and laughing at each other; they stumbled to bed, the other men following their example and curling in corners where they knew the slowly waking household would not disturb them.

  When no one remained but Æthelflæd and Northman she fixed him with a stern eye.

  “Northman,” she began, and he looked at her keenly, “you’ve done more than enough for your father and your king. This time, you must see to your family, your wife and your children. Your father would do the same.”

  Northman felt his face flush a little with the intensity of her stare. It was almost as though she could hear his thoughts.

  “I know mother, you’re right. But still, I feel I must once more shadow Eadric.”

  She sighed softly at his words and reached forward to stroke his forehead as though he were still a young child.

  “You must forget what you were conditioned to do from such an early age. Your loyalty is to your family, and your wife, not your uncle and not, right now and pray no one hears me say this, to your king, whoever that is. My family have given too much already. You just claim back what is yours.”

  Her words made perfect sense to him, but the scenarios running through his head of how Eadric would ensure he benefitted most from the more than probable recall of Æthelred caused Northman to fear for the future. He and his wife would be fine; he knew that, but his father, and his mother and his brothers and sister. He could not allow Eadric to take any more petty grievances out against them.

  Moodily, he leant back on his stool, forgetting that it had no back, and tumbled, all arms and legs into an untidy heap at his mother’s feet. Æthelflæd stifled a smile at his angry face, but Northman took the inopportune moment to release some of his frustration, smiling and laughing along with her.

  “How did you injure your head?” Æthelflæd asked as she helped him to his feet, with the aid of his old hound that was enthusiastically licking his face as though he were a prized pork knuckle.

  “I must have nodded off while sitting by Wulfstan’s chair, and I knocked my head when Leofric arrived.”

  Æthelflæd eyed Wulfstan’s chair intently at his words.

  “You’re not the only one too scared to sit on it,” she offered by way of an explanation. “I don’t think anyone has yet sat within it, not once, and neither will anyone move it, even though it blocks the heat from that quarter of the room.” She pointed as she spoke, and Northman noted that there was an additional supply of furs stacked up against the chair, far more than anywhere else within the hall.

  “I imagine it’s comforting,” Northman offered, fingering his bruised head and bruised arse to ascertain the damage he’d done.

  “Yes, and also no. It’s a daily reminder that he’s no longer here, and it makes it harder to heal, but yes, it’s also a comfort to know that we can still talk to him.”

  Northman looked at her in surprise,

  “And do you still … talk to him?” he asked, trying to replay in his mind if he’d ever seen his mother and Wulfstan in conversation.

  Æthelflæd laughed at the incredulity in his voice.

  “I’m not sure what you heard about Wulfstan and me. I can assure you that while we may not have been friends from the beginning of our acquaintance with each other, I soon learned to trust him with many of my secrets and worries, and I still do, as does everyone in this house.”

  Northman lapsed into silence, aware that his mother didn’t expect him to speak further, but comfortable with him if he did. And maybe now was the time to get the answers to some of his questions.

  “Was it always father’s plan to do as he did? With me, I mean?”

  “It was never your father’s plan. You know that in your heart, and he never expected you to take it all so seriously. You’re grown now, a husband and father yourself, you must know the wrench it caused us both to part with you.”

  “But other children are fostered?”

  “Of course they are, but always with people who are honoured by the association, like Horic and Agata for instance, not by people who mean only harm for your family. Fostering is a wonderful way of ensuring that your children experience life with another family, learn to see the world with slightly different eyes.”

  “Was it me then?” he asked, not sure what he meant by the question, but understanding flashed across his mother’s face.

  “I would make you feel better by saying that no it wasn’t you, but you need to understand the truth of your actions. It was you. You could have left; anytime you wanted to. In honesty, Oscetel was explicitly told when you first travelled to Eadric’s that he was to bring you home if you showed any signs of unhappiness or unease, or specifically asked him to. And when you didn’t ask, then your father vowed to bring you home after Eadric’s marriage, if you asked him to. All you ever needed to do was ask.”

  “But it’s also not you. It’s your honour and your family’s reputation, and the legacy of your father and grandfather. All these things have conspired to keep you from my door for seven long years.”

  Northman appreciated the simplicity of the answer, and although he’d liked to have reacted angrily and called her a liar for her implication of himself, he knew that she was correct in her summing up of the last years of his childhood and the first years of his manhood. He had chosen to go to Eadric’s. He’d been scared and worried, but he’d never thought that he wouldn’t go. His argument with his father at Wulfstan’s death had been the last vestiges of his childhood pouring out of him, his last chance to blame anyone other than himself. But he knew himself better than that.

  “I still wish I’d not gone,” he whimpered softly, and his mother took his hands within her own far smaller, and far more worn ones.

  “And we wish it too. Not a day goes by that we don’t. I like to think of the good, though, if you’d not gone you’d never have met Mildryth and made me a grandparent when I should still be only a mother.” She laughed softly as she spoke, a faraway look in her eyes.

  “She's a beautiful woman,” he offered, “and I love her.”

  “You’re lucky to have married first and foremost for love. Your father and I didn’t have that immediate connection. It took him nearly being murdered by Swein for my true feelings for him to make themselves known.”

  “And your true feelings for Wulfstan,” he re-joined, enjoying the slight pursing of her lips as he spoke. Wulfstan had made no bones of Æthelflæd’s annoyance with him upon their return from the Outer Isles, and even now, years later, Northman had the suspicion that his mother wasn’t aware of how widespread he’d shared his accounting of the day of their return. Somehow, his mother thought it was a secret that Wulfstan had taken to the grave. She was very wrong.

  “I’d still have met her,” Northman countered now, considering carefully if that was true or not. “I don’t know how, or where, but we were meant to be together, and so we would have been.”

  “That’s a beautiful thought,” his mother said, her eyes a little glazed with memories.

  “I often wonder what our lives would have been like if Swein had not attacked your father. Would I have realised I loved him anyway, or would we have lived in an alliance of minds, and not hearts? I don’t know, but as you say, I hope I would have loved him anyway. Now, as my son, I command you back to your bed. You have a wife who’ll need you in the morning and a son who has even greater need of being worn out so that he, at least, sleeps the night through.”

  Northman took her chastisement in good nature and stood to return to his bed. Just before he turned his back on his mother he stopped and laid
a kiss on her forehead.

  “Thank you,” he said, “for being my mother, no matter what.”

  She gulped back a sob at his unexpected affection and shooed him from the room. At the door to the room within which Mildryth slept, he turned and looked at his mother. She was sitting before the fire, intent on something she saw in the flames, while silent tears dripped down her curved cheeks.

  Chapter 4

  AD1014

  Leofwine

  London

  Orkning returned quickly to tell him that he’d managed to catch up with Cnut and had arranged for them to meet early the next morning. He nodded to show he understood and felt a slight piece of his tension slide away. He needed to speak to Cnut again; that was a surety. What resolution he’d reach with him he had yet to see.

  Oscetel was aware of his consternation and kept himself and anyone else he could, away from his brooding Lord, and Leofwine appreciated it. He needed to run through scenarios in his head, work out the best course of action for the future of the land. And through it all, he was under-minded by the niggling thought that Cnut was the best hope for the future. He despised himself for the thought, but every time he thought of the ageing Æthelred back on the throne his stomach hollowed and a moment of panic almost embraced him.

  Swein had released him from his immediate demands to see Cnut crowned, and he was pleased about that, and also a little slightly deflated by it. While he’d baulked at Swein’s demands, they now seemed to offer him a way forward. If only Swein had been firmer, exacted an oath from him, he felt he’d be more able to deal with the future. Being faced with such a monumental decision went against everything he’d ever tried to do. It was one thing to act with the backing of the king but quite another to act to bring someone to that kingship!

  Eventually, his head pounding and his stomach empty, he ate a sparse meal letting the wall of sound in the great hall block his nagging thoughts. Checking to ensure that Swein’s body was ready to be moved in the early morning light, he slept briefly, waking when Oscetel came to tell him it was time to leave.