Northman Part 2

by M J Porter

  Edmund took a moment to settle. Then he checked if anyone else was close enough to listen other than Northman, Leofric and Leofwine, his own men having retreated further back down the path they’d beaten through the flowering undergrowth.

  “I fear my trumpeting of Morcar and Sigeforth may well have caused them undue trouble. I’ve not seen my father since Christmas but rumours are flying that the king is unhappy with the pair, and for once I can’t say I blame him. I blame myself more, and I don’t know what to do.”

  “What have the thegns been doing?” Leofwine asked in all seriousness.

  “They were supposed to be growing their power base within their lands, but I fear they’ve been too open about their intentions.”

  “Or Eadric is watching them, or someone else, and feeding the information back to the king.”

  Edmund paused a beat then and looked at Leofwine as though he was throwing him a lifeline.

  “I’d not considered that, My Lord. I’ve been too concerned, and to be honest, angry with the pair to even reason through what might have happened.”

  “They seemed as though they were circumspect enough when I met them before,” Leofwine added reassuringly, and Edmund’s unhappiness lifted as little.

  “That must be it. They’ve professed their innocence to me but I was too worried to really listen to their words. They did say they’d only speak to family members and respected men from near their lands. Athelstan trusted them and I’d hoped to do the same.”

  “If you’ll excuse me for being a little blunt, My Lord, neither you or Athelstan hid your connections to the two men. It was only a matter of time before someone noticed what they were doing and connected it to you.”

  Edmund was nodding his head empathically, and Northman felt a moment of pity for him. Perhaps he wasn’t quite as adept at holding his head above water at the Witan as he’d thought. After all, he was the king’s son.

  “And what have you heard about the king’s intentions?”

  “I hear he plans to take them to task at the next Witan, and also that he plans on depriving them of their land, or banishing them. I don’t know what to do. I’ve warned them both, well I did when I’d stopped berating them for their inability to keep a secret, but they seemed unconcerned by what I said. Sigeforth has just married and he thinks only of bedding his wife, and making me king.”

  “And who did you hear it from? People you trust or just stray rumours that have been picked up and travelled towards you.”

  “Archbishop Wulfstan sent me a friendly worded message informing me that the king was keen to discuss events in Mercia with me.”

  “Well then the king is aware of what’s being said,” Leofwine surmised.

  “And the messenger who carried the note informed me that he’d overheard another messenger telling Eadric what he’d overheard a messenger in Ælfgifu of Northampton’s household saying.”

  His brow was furrowed as he tried to remember the exact chain of events that had led to him being made aware of the rumours.

  “But what was it that was said?” Leofwine pressed, not unkindly.

  “Ælfgifu is allying with Morcar and Sigeforth and between them they will aid Cnut in his return to England.”

  “Well that’s not very likely is it? Not if they’re allied to you. That can probably be dismissed. Anything else?”

  “Yes, my younger brother visited me in my hall and told me that father and Eadric can often be heard discussing how they’ll unite the Mercian nobility behind Eadric and a part of that might well involve demoting other members of the nobility.”

  “That sounds more like something the king would do. Anything to help his favourite gain more land and prestige,” Leofwine added a little sourly.

  “So who told you that the two were to be approached by the king?”

  Edmund shook his head in annoyance.

  “I can’t remember, I feel as though all I’ve heard for the last two weeks is one rumour after another.”

  “But it came from someone you trust?”

  “That I can’t remember. Probably and I don’t think we can disregard anything. The king, as we all know, can act irrationally when he feels threatened, and with Eadric goading him on I fear for the two of them, I truly do. I wouldn’t want them to come to harm on my account.”

  Northman was surprised to hear his probably future king speaking so, but in a good way. It was one of those things his father was so good at. Men were important to their society, whether he be the king or the pig farmer. No one could survive without the other. It appeared as though Edmund, unlike his father, understood that as well.

  “I would suggest you send word to them that they shouldn’t attend the next Witan and that they should see to their own safety and that of their families. That way we can all try and determine the king’s intentions when we meet at Oxford.”

  “They won’t do that. I’ve already approached them with my suggestion but they didn’t seem keen to oblige me on this. They want to be seen at the Witan.”

  Northman’s head turned to his father, curious about the emotion he’d find there. He’d lived through a number of Æthelred’s rash actions, the still talked about massacre of St Brice’s Day when he’d sent orders to kill any of Danish origins, a move that had been carried through by many keen to impress the king before he’d changed his mind.

  Then of course, there’d been the death of the old Ealdorman of Northumbria. Ælfhelm’s death had been firmly placed at Eadric’s feet and the disappearance of the previous ealdorman, Æthelred’s father in law was still whispered about in places. Many thought the king had perhaps learnt a little too well from his mother, now roundly accused of seeking the murder of her step-son so that Æthelred could reign in his stead, and although Leofwine had long since disputed the claim, saying his father had never believed it and that he’d actually been far closer to events, sadly the rumours persisted and every so often burst afresh into the political arena. Normally when someone wanted the king to do something he didn’t particularly want to do.

  His father looked pensive, even a little worried.

  “Why have you come to me?” he asked into the silence. Edmund looked a little taken aback by the question.

  “I thought … I understood that we had an agreement about who would be king next. I thought you would help me with this as my two other allies are part of the problem.”

  Leofwine stared at Edmund, his face a little unreadable.

  “You don’t expect me to dissuade the king from whatever he plans on doing then?”

  “No,” and now Edmund relaxed a little in his saddle, seeming to understand that Leofwine’s question didn’t stem from a desire to not help but one where he wanted to protect himself.

  “I came to inform you and see if there was any way you could impress upon the men that Æthelred is no newborn pup to be played with. I don’t think they realise the enormity of what we hope to accomplish.”

  Leofwine barked a laugh. “With the king still alive, what they plan and plot is treason, whether they’ve been overheard or whether they’re being watched, they must take more care. I suggest you speak to them again, perhaps have them in your own rooms at Oxford for the Witan, and certainly, make sure they know they’re not to do anything that isn’t part of their normal routine when they’re at the Witan. And tell them to stay away from Eadric and his men. Have them stay together, and have some of your own men shadow them. That way you can always tell the king that you too have heard rumours of their intended support for Cnut and you want to keep an eye on them.”

  Edmund was nodding almost hungrily at the advice.

  “My thanks Leofwine, it feels so good to talk about my fears and worries rather than ride around with them circulating in my head.”

  “You must be careful as well, My Lord. If the king realises how involved you are, you’re life will be in danger as well. I suggest you stay as far away from Eadric as its possible to be. I’d also suggest that you don’t go dashing all
over the country to see me yourself either. You should have sent a messenger, a man you trust above all other, you must have the odd one or two, and that way the king wouldn’t hear of our meeting like this. He’s more than likely going to question you on it, and I would suggest that in order to stay his attention on this one occasion, you inform him that you came to deliver part of Athelstan’s bequest that has only just come to light. A sword, or a shield or a piece of jewellery. Anything.”

  Northman watched his father with interest. He always seemed to be thinking one step ahead of everyone else, almost as though he could look at the king and the circumstances surrounding any current issue and decipher how the king would react. It was an invaluable skill and one Northman thought he should spend more time acquiring.

  “Now, to make this rushed canter look a little less rushed, I suggest you join the hunt and stay the night in my hall. Perhaps you could even have a long conversation with my sons about battle or women or some such, and make it loud enough that any within your own company or those within my own who may be treacherous, can report back to Eadric and his spies.”

  Edmund’s face broke into a rare grin at that, looking once more like a young boy keen to hunt and show off his skills.

  “With thanks for your kind offer. I’ll do that, and my apologies for interrupting you.”

  “It’s no problem, My Lord, but come, we must have something fit for a king for our dinner, even if our king to be is the one catching it.”

  Leofwine took that as an excuse to leave and return to the hunt, whilst Edmund rode back to his troops and told them of the new plan. Half of them turned and rode back towards Deerhurst whilst the others remained with him, and Leofric turned to Northman.

  “Do you think the king would move against the two men?”

  “If Eadric can fabricate enough evidence he’ll do whatever Eadric suggests, and he’s more bloody unpredictable than Æthelred.”

  “Are you going to go back to Eadric, keep an eye on him?”

  Northman’s heart sank at that. He’d managed not to think it the whole time Edmund had been spewing his worries and half formed fears, but now that Leofric had put voice to it, he knew that he should consider it. No, he knew that he should just do it.

  “I don’t know. I might not be able to prevent anything he does. I’ve watched him like a hawk and still he’s done things that have taken me by surprise.”

  Leofric peered into his eyes, and Northman felt a little uncomfortable until he said.

  “You should stay. Father and Edmund can deal with Æthelred. You should stay and be with your family.”

  With his wisdom imparted, Leofric convinced his horse to follow the beaten down path into the woods. Northman was left watching his brother’s retreating back, surprised by what he’d said. He’d expected him to tell him to go, to put the country before himself, to put stopping Eadric above everything else. That was at least what he’d have said if the situation had been reversed. Pensively, he turned his horse home. He suddenly had a need to hold his wife and tickle his children.

  Chapter 22

  Leofric

  Summer AD1015

  Oxford

  The heat was stifling in the hall, and Leofric shifted on his chair in discomfort again. He wasn’t the only one doing so, although he felt as though everyone else could sit still for longer than he could. He was tired, his head pounded from too much mead, and the words of the men of the Witan were flying over his head without making any impact. They discussed weights and measures, gelds and the quality of the harvest and the pigs, all things that Leofric knew he should care about but couldn’t bring himself to at that exact moment. He wanted a long soak in a cold bath and to drink the bath water when he’d finished. Anything to banish his thirst.

  Before him his father was still as stone, even Cyneweard refrained from banging his tail on the wooden floor. Damn the dog. A good tail wag would have moved the still and dusty air and made breathing a little easier in the heated air. He feared he might be sick at any moment and had to keep closing his eyes and counting to ten to still his rapid heart rate. He couldn’t do anything about the sweat beading his face.

  His father had warned him, even Oscetel had spoken to him about his excessive drinking last night, but Leofric had been enjoying himself with the other young men of the Witan, making hyperbolic statements about their prowess in battle and with women. Always so shy in the past, too much mead had made him seek the company of others his age.

  Leofric had known it was all lies, but it had been good to laugh and drink and think of nothing significant. Now it seemed like such a stupid thing to have done. Perhaps he’d never drink again. No, he would never drink again; he couldn’t take this much pain in his head again.

  The atmosphere in the rest of the hall last night had been acidic, everyone watching everyone else as though their every movement could damn them either as a traitor or a follower of the king. His father had been on his best behaviour, his movements measured and still. Even Northman, sat beside Eadric and now back as one of his acknowledged followers, had managed to not make a wrong move.

  Since Edmund’s visit before Easter, Northman had been treating him with more respect, as though amazed that his baby brother was now a man in his own right and one who could be relied upon to make good decisions and act in the best interests of everyone. Last night he’d apparently failed to do any of those things, and although he’d begged his father to let him stay in his bed, Leofwine had been implacable. Either attend the Witan or return home, immediately.

  Leofric had growled and groaned, receiving no sympathy from anyone, not even the hound, as he’d attempted to clean himself up from the degradations of the night before. Now he wished he’d opted for the option of going home and facing his mother’s rage at his behaviour. Anything had to be more pleasurable than enduring this tedium.

  A tap on his shoulder and he turned his pounding head to see a grinning Oscetel wordlessly passing him a jug and cup filled with cool water. He almost didn’t believe what he was seeing but grabbed both things quickly before Oscetel could change his mind. Making as little movement as possible he splashed the water down his parched throat, and hastily refilled the cup. He continued the motion until all the fluid was gone, and then he turned to return the items to Oscetel. His father’s commander took them in silence and returned them to their hidden place beneath his stool. Leofric had a dark thought that he’d had them there the whole time and wouldn’t it have been better to give them to him when the damn Witan started, but as his head pounded a little less, he was too relieved to think of any revenge. If he could rely on Oscetel now, then hopefully he could depend on him if he ever did anything as stupid again.

  Slowly as the day dragged, his head cleared a little, and he became more aware of the conversations taking place between the king and the men. Or rather, of the conversations not taking place. It seemed as though everyone was very carefully choosing their words, and that, Leofric thought, might have more to do with the appearance of the king and the rumours running through the Witan that he was ill than anything else. Certainly, he looked paler than normal, and he’d lost weight from his tall frame. His hair had turned grey since he’d last seen him, and that probably wasn’t helping his case, but even his speaking seemed a little slurred. He’d have to question his father about it later.

  That meant that despite what Leofwine had warned might be the main topic of conversation, the loyalty of the English people to their king, no one had yet spoken out against those who they suspected might be helping Cnut. Not even the birth of the Danish prince’s son had been mentioned.

  On their journey to Oxford, Leofwine had cautioned all of his men and his son that they were to be extra heedful over any conversations they had or overheard. If anyone mentioned the Mercian thegns, Leofwine wanted to know. If anyone spoke of Cnut, Leofwine wanted to know. And he asked them all to be mindful of making any comments that might be misinterpreted by someone loyal to Æthelred or Eadric. Not, he
said, that they weren’t loyal to their king, but apparently, they all knew a little more about Leofwine’s thoughts, and about Erik’s journey to Deerhurst than could be deemed safe for them. Even if Leofwine had given no help to Erik or Edmund.

  As the morning wound its way towards the afternoon, Leofric found himself watching the king keenly, looking for any other sign of illness, and he received it when Emma, sitting beside Æthelred although in a lower position, leant her head towards him and the king brought the proceedings to an abrupt end.

  With a smile that could only be termed as held firmly in place, Emma escorted her husband from the church and the rest of the men and women began to turn and make conversation with each other. Leofric hovered close to his father, waiting to speak with him even though he was engrossed in a conversation with Uhtred. Impatient to feel some fresh air on his face, he wondered from the hall, nodding his welcome to those he knew and tried not to meet too many eyes so that he didn’t have to stop and make conversation with them.

  Outside the day was warm and bright with a faint breeze. He stood around the side of the church and just concentrated on breathing in as much air as he could, letting it fill his chest and finally banish his nausea. He was still contemplating never drinking again when he saw Edmund leave the church with his brothers and make their way towards the king’s hall. They, like him, didn’t stop and speak to anyone and Edmund walked with some speed. Leofric idly wondered what he was doing.

  Snatches of conversation reached him from those disgorging from the Church. He heard the odd word; king, Cnut, Æthelred, attack, succession but nothing sparked his attention until he saw Eadric and his brother.

  Northman had left Deerhurst not long after Edmund had visited them close to Easter. He’d gone with heavy steps, but he’d gone all the same, despite what Leofric had cautioned him. Leofric was still angry with his brother for that. It wasn’t as if Northman could stop Eadric, and in the past, all he seemed to have done was give up his childhood and adolescence to watch a man who’d still managed to work his mischief unheeded. Leofric couldn’t shake the feeling that his brother thought too much of himself. It was time to let others scrutinise Eadric’s every word and action. Northman had a family to raise.