Northman Part 2

by M J Porter

  As the long afternoon wound on and on, more and more candles were lit, so that when the tedious ceremony was finally completed, they stepped outside into full dark, confused by the sudden shift from light to dark. Leofwine stumbled through the church doorway, and once more cursed his injury that meant he couldn’t survive without his hound. Behind him, Eadric broke into loud laughter, and Leofwine growled in annoyance as Eadric loudly relayed news of Leofwine’s fall to the king and any other who would listen. The king, for once, was noncommittal in his response and a small glimmer of hope burst in Leofwine’s chest. Perhaps after all the king had learnt to appreciate the small gestures of those who didn’t need rewarding for his or her every action.

  Chapter 9

  AD1014

  Northman

  London

  The Witan had been convened for the day after the rededication to Æthelred and Northman felt uneasy. Eadric had spent the previous evening fawning upon the king and filling his head with details of how he felt the king should now proceed. Northman was deeply uneasy about what those were.

  Eadric screamed for war, demanding that the king called together his forces and used them to drive Cnut from his temporary stronghold at Gainsborough. He had some of his men keeping a close eye on Cnut’s every movement and the accord that the Danish usurper had reached with the people from the ancient kingdom of Lindsay had Eadric well and truly riled. They should have looked directly to him, not to Cnut. They should have sought his protection before they made any pledges of support to Cnut.

  And so the evening had progressed, and by the end of it, despite Eadric’s annoying whine, he somehow seemed to have turned the king to his point of view. While the King had initially preached that they should reach a peace with Cnut, by the end of the evening Eadric’s viewpoint was holding sway. Eadric had begun his tirade early, and although the king had clearly been unhappy to be discussing war when he’d only just regained his land, Eadric's view soon ruled the evening. Even Thorkell, who until now had been a quiet shadow at the king’s side, was demanding war. The new Olaf too looked keen to engage Cnut in battle.

  Thorkell fascinated Northman. He was a huge giant of a man, his presence impossible to ignore even when he wasn’t directly taking part in any of the conversations in a room. Throughout the religious service yesterday, Northman had watched him with interest, almost unable to tear his eyes away from him. He’d seemed out of place within the Church even though he was a Christian in name at least. He knew the words of the prayers and bowed and bobbed his head in all the correct places.

  He was adorned with many armbands, shining bright or dull silver in the glow of the candles, depending on how old they were and his clothing was functional and yet well constructed at the same time. His hand seemed always to hover near where his sword or hammer should be, and the rippling muscles of his chest and his arms showed clearly through anything he wore, even when he had a beautiful fur cloak around his shoulders. He seemed to convey menace with his very appearance, and yet, in direct contradiction, he also carefully considered every word he spoke, as though he knew that there were some who would only act at his first words and he didn’t wish to make an incorrect decision.

  He’d not made any form of oath to Æthelred the day before, and his failure to do so had been noted by many. As Northman had walked through the feasting hall the previous night, he’d heard murmurs about Thorkell. Many were unsure of his intentions now.

  He was the only one who’d stood by the king when Swein had stolen his throne, and he was the only one who’d gone into exile with the king. Even now Northman didn’t know why he’d done so. Some spoke of a violent disagreement between Swein and Thorkell and Thorkell’s desire to not place himself in harm's way. But if Northman had learnt one thing from the years of attack England had endured, it was that the northmen were flighty in their allegiances and that it was as easy to break an alliance as it was to re-forge one. And now, now he had no idea what Thorkell hoped to achieve.

  Olaf was an unknown as well. He was more of an age with Cnut than any of the other great men within the room, and he seemed unable to sit still. He was always moving, or talking, or drinking or eating. He spoke some Anglo-Saxon but preferred to speak in Danish, and to many of the Englishmen in the room the fact he was talking the language of Cnut was a clear sign that the king shouldn’t ally himself too closely with him. The fact that he brought shiploads of men with him was also upsetting many of the Englishmen. It was as if they had only swapped one Danish overlord for two.

  The king called his advisors together inside the hall where only a handful of months ago he’d made the decision to abdicate. Northman wondered if he understood the potency of his actions or whether it was simply that apart from Wulfstan’s church there were few rooms where everyone could be comfortably accommodated.

  The king was finely dressed and had apparently taken as much care with his appearance as he had yesterday. He was escorted into the hall by not Eadric or Thorkell, but by his eldest son, Athelstan. Northman watched Athelstan. He seemed to have lost much of his robustness and for a frightening moment he wondered if Athelstan was ill. Indeed, his normal frame appeared to have shrunk, and his eyes were dark shadows on his pale face. The sudden change seemed even more worrying when compared to his younger brother who walked with him. Edmund was as well as he’d always been, his every move almost as menacing as Thorkell’s, his muscles prominent under his tunic, the power contained within him seeming to spill over with every step.

  Northman desperately wished he could speak to his father about what he suspected, but they were currently estranged, playing the part of violent enemies for Eadric’s benefit. He knew his father would have been carefully watching everything, but he might have missed this change in Athelstan. Searching the room he tried to meet his father’s eyes but Leofwine stayed firmly focused on his conversation with Ælfric, and Northman finally stopped his futile efforts before Eadric noted it. Eadric might have welcomed him with open arms when he greeted the king on his arrival in England, but he knew he’d just as quickly discard him again if he suspected anything was not as it seemed.

  The room was half filled, the five ealdormen in attendance along with a select few of the other members of the Witan. A small body of his adherents, Morcar amongst them, surrounded Athelstan while Eadric’s brother was another who was attracting much attention from the remaining minor noblemen milling around.

  The king quickly called the assembly together, and without reference to Swein’s brief reign and welcome death, began to conduct business as if nothing had happened to prevent a meeting of the Witan for the last few months.

  Northman was pleased and alarmed in equal measure. The men needed rewarding for recalling the king, but it appeared as though the king was not of a mind to do so. There was bound to be some unhappiness from the assembled men and women if the king didn’t say something to acknowledge their support. Northman wondered what he had planned for he was an astute man, he must surely know that his supporters would want rewarding, they always had been in the past, and nothing would have changed. But perhaps the king had finally, after over thirty years as a king decided to act the part and trickle out the rewards to those who remained the most loyal.

  Eadric was sat beside Northman, his posture alert and intense, and he listened to everything the King said. Thorkell sat on the other side of Eadric and Northman wondered if they ever spoke of Eadric’s treachery at Oxford and Thetford or whether events had become so confused that neither could remember who had done what. Certainly, he was curious to see how Ulfcytel and Thorkell would manage this uneasy alliance. Ulfcytel was still wounded by Thorkell’s massacre of his people and desecration of his land. They would make extremely uneasy allies if they could ally at all.

  Certainly, Ulfcytel was aware that the King was honouring Thorkell by allowing him to sit amongst his ealdormen. Northman had the worrying thought that perhaps the king planned on giving Thorkell the position of an ealdordom. He wondered, if he did
so, whose land he’d take, or share out, as he had once done to his father when Eadric had been given the ealdordom of Mercia. He sincerely hoped that his father would not become a victim once more.

  Abruptly Northman noticed that Eadric was standing having been given permission by the king to speak.

  “My Lord and fellow councillors,” he began, his voice rich with self-satisfaction to find himself addressing the members of the Witan again. “We must take action to prevent a recurrence of the calamitous events that have so recently befallen our lands and our king. We must act to ensure it never happens again. I demand, here and now, that everyone in this room, ealdorman, king’s thegn, bishop or abbot, ascribes a document that will forever prevent a king from the lands of the Northmen from ever claiming our land again. We must write it into the laws of our land. We must all vow and swear an oath that will stop this terrifying series of events from ever happening again. All of us.”

  As he spoke his eyes purposefully rested on Uhtred and then Ulfcytel, finally coming to rest on Leofwine. His eyebrows rose, and his tone was dripping with a combination of rhetoric and self-righteousness. Northman felt himself quake a little internally. Eadric was not good at winning without vaunting it over his adversaries.

  The words he spoke elicited a muted response from the assembled crowd, and Northman noted that the king seemed to shrink a little at the less than robust response to Eadric’s demands. Northman minutely shook his head in anger. The King still appeared to have little appreciation for the feelings of his councillors.

  Leofwine was on his feet before Eadric had sat, his face pensive as he bowed to his king and turned to face the members of the Witan.

  “Ealdorman Eadric speaks brave words for our land, and I would love nothing more than to agree, wholeheartedly with what he says, but how are we to define a Northman? How are we to say who should and who shouldn’t rule? If you’ll excuse my words my Lord,” and here Leofwine turned to look at the king, “your family have ruled this land for nearly two centuries, and in that time many, many changes have taken place. While you are currently rich in sons and heirs, I fear what will happen if one day in the future that is not the case. Our people have intermarried with men and women from the northern lands, and I see no reason why in the future, a royal match may not be made between a king of our lands and a daughter of the noble houses in the northern lands. Are we saying here that any issue from such a union would not become a king?”

  Eadric rushed to his feet, his face flashing with anger,

  “Ealdorman Leofwine, you take my meaning to extremes. Everyone here knows that I speak to ensure that that bastard Swein’s children do not claim our throne.”

  Still standing, Leofwine spoke,

  “I do no such thing Eadric. We mustn’t make hasty decisions that might one-day cripple our future kings. We need to exercise as much caution in our actions now as we always have.”

  “Leofwine, not everyone shares your love for the Northmen,” Eadric spat, but Leofwine ignored the jibe, instead swiping his hand over his damaged eye in an unspoken reminder of how much he’d suffered at the hands of Swein.

  He continued to speak,

  “The Northmen haven’t gone away just because Swein is dead, and we should not cast into law something that might well further infuriate them. Remember, Cnut is still in England.”

  Eadric had returned to his seat but continued to glare at Leofwine as he stayed at the front of the hall. There were murmurs up and down the room, but no one else spoke, not even the king, until Thorkell laboriously gained his feet, his size dominating even in the large space of the hall.

  He nodded thoughtfully to Leofwine, and turned to Æthelred,

  “May I speak my Lord?” he enquired in his deep voice, his accent adding dullness to the words he spoke.

  “Of course Thorkell, please do so,” the king gestured with an open hand but a frown on his face.

  “Cnut is a subtle adversary, and the next step must be to drive him home to Denmark. We should be talking about mounting an attack, but, if everyone would feel better knowing that no Norseman is ever to take the English throne, then the law should be passed. Or perhaps it should be a little more precise. Perhaps it would be better to say that no Danish king can ever lay claim to the throne again.”

  His words were greeted with an instant bubble of conversation and Northman wondered if by making it only apply to the Danish, Thorkell had won the instant support that Eadric hadn’t. He didn’t turn to look at Eadric because he didn’t need to. He was well aware how angry Eadric would be at having his suggestion greeted with such little support.

  A few raised their voices in agreement, and now Æthelred relaxed a little in his seat. This solution appeared much better.

  “My Lord,” Ulfcytel was on his feet now, “I think any prohibition will, one day, cause some difficulties, but for the time being, I believe that it will send a clear message to Cnut that he is not to be our king. That, combined with the force we must send against him at Gainsborough, will make our position clear.”

  Northman was surprised by the edge to Ulfcytel’s voice, and even more surprised to hear him speak of war so soon after Æthelred’s reinstatement.

  “You think a war will be necessary?” Æthelred queried with interest.

  “Yes my Lord, and the longer we linger here, the more time he’ll have to consolidate his position. We must attack him, and sooner rather than later. Now that you are once more, King, he must physically see that we are not prepared to tolerate his incursions any further. His father lost the throne. It is not the son’s to take.”

  Æthelred watched Ulfcytel carefully as he spoke, and Northman looked to see how the rest of the Witan were reacting to the East Anglian’s words. Whereas Eadric’s suggestion had caused a wave of comments to be shared between men sitting shoulder to shoulder, the idea of driving Cnut from the English lands was more universally acceptable. Each and every man was nodding his agreement. Northman felt a moment of premonition. He’d not expected a return to war quite so soon, and he didn’t think that a renewed attack on Cnut would be the end of it all.

  “There must be agreement about attacking Cnut,” the king said, having gauged the audience himself. “If everyone agrees then I'll nominate Eadric and Olaf to take their forces to Gainsborough.”

  At his side, Northman felt Eadric still. He’d clearly not been expecting that.

  “Thorkell will go as well, for he knows the way the young pretender thinks and fights and will rid our land of the menace once and for all.”

  Thorkell was nodding thoughtfully, having finally reclaimed his seat after standing at the front of the assembly since he’s first stood to mouth his suggestions. No conflict clouded his face at the thought of meeting his foster son in battle, and Northman wondered if all the men of the northern lands were as stoical, if that was why alliances were made and broken quite so easily?

  His father was notably quiet from his place at the front of the hall, but Northman was unsurprised. His father thought highly of Cnut and was conflicted about the future. He also seemed to realise something that no one else in the hall did. Cnut was not to be denied. He was a dominant force, and while he might have temporarily retreated, for now, he stood at the head of a massive ship army, and the men of the ship army were pledged to him and would fight to the death for him as they had his father before him.

  Northman himself was unsure how he felt. He had fought against Thorkell in East Anglia and now found himself going into battle with him. The sudden change in loyalties that the king had made was unsettling, almost as though nothing was set in stone anymore. Northman uneasily felt that anything could change. After thirty years of almost perfect calm and a failure to take any initiative, the king was suddenly bucking the trend, and Northman didn’t think that the king was skilled enough to play more violent men at the game of popularity.

  As was expected of him, and however unwilling he truly was, Eadric stood at the words of the king and bowed to him, acceptin
g his commission and turning to look at the men before him. Northman looked at the faces of the other ealdormen. Ulfcytel wouldn't look at the king, whereas Uhtred was glaring at Eadric. Neither of the two men trusted Eadric, and they had no cause to.

  Leofwine was the only one looking at the king, and his expression was the blandest that Northman had ever seen it. And that was not a good sign. Still, he stood and spoke, as the king was expecting him to.

  “I second the agreement, my Lord, and hope that Cnut and his men are quickly dissuaded from ever returning to our lands.”

  His words were treated with a chorus of approval from the lesser councillors, and the king nodded in delight. This was the greatest show of vocal support he’d yet received, and yet Northman wondered how it would translate into action.

  Chapter 10

  AD1014

  Northman

  London

  Eadric paced the room in agitation while his brother looked on with disinterest. Northman glanced hastily between the two men but kept his peace. The Witan had broken up a short while ago, men going to feast and discuss the future now that the outlook was a little more settled, but Eadric was outraged and making no attempt to mask it.

  He’d played the dutiful ealdorman to his king for as long as it took him to reach the safety of this small room and now he marched angrily, unsure where to put himself. Northman had a flashback to his young son doing something similar when he was thwarted and worked hard to keep his face blank. Eadric was waiting for someone to lash out at and Northman didn’t want to be on the receiving end of his anger.

  “Bloody ungrateful git,” he was muttering over and over again as he worked himself into a fevered state of agitation. Northman was assuming that he was talking about the king, and his request that Eadric lead the attack against Cnut, but it was always possible that he was upset about something else, although Northman thought not. Eadric had been quiet and fidgety throughout the rest of the proceedings, and Northman well knew his desire not to be in the front line of any attack.