by M J Porter
His brother looked relaxed but also on his guard. His clothes were those his wife and mother had stitched for him, and around his neck, his small family cross-gleamed in the sunlight. It was both a visible sign of his faith and also a reminder to him of who his family were. Their father had given it to him many years ago, and although when he was at home, he didn’t wear it apart from on special occasions, it appeared as though he wore it now as an emblem, a reminder to himself.
Eadric was speaking eagerly to Northman and his brother, Ælthelmær, gesturing as he did so. Leofric wondered what he was so riled about; nothing of note had been said at the Witan during the day.
Leofwine left the hall then, his steps measured as he relied on his hound to guide him. He hesitated barely a heartbeat when he saw Northman but enough that Leofric noticed it although he doubted anyone else did.
Eadric immediately stopped whatever he was talking about and instead a slow smile spread across his face. Leofric stifled a groan. Surely after all this time he’d grown tired of trying to add salt to the wound that lay between Northman and his father. Clearly, he hadn’t. He meandered his way towards Leofwine and even Leofric unwittingly tensed at what was about to happen. Leofric strode from his place behind the church and walked calmly towards his father, his steps slow and measured. There was no need to give Eadric the satisfaction of knowing that he was purposefully trying to contain any unpleasantness.
Oscetel, standing behind Leofwine, noted Leofric long before he joined his father. His eyes lightened a little but other than that he stood as alert as he normally did. Eadric was doing all the talking, but Leofric heard only the words king and heir and knew that the ealdorman of Mercia was trying to goad Leofwine.
“Father,” he interrupted, noticing the annoyed glance from Eadric with some satisfaction. “Apologies for interrupting, but the queen has asked to see you.” It was a lie, of course, but it was possible that Emma would wish to speak with Leofwine and if nothing else, it made Eadric pause in his conversation and glare even harder at Leofwine. If there were one thing that could be relied on, it would be that Eadric would never factor into his manipulations that Leofwine was not without his supporters at the Witan. There was a reason that he’d retained his position for over twenty years.
‘Apologies my Lord Eadric,” Leofwine said, “as pleasant as our conversation is, it appears I’m needed elsewhere. Good day.”
They all walked away from Eadric with a smooth gait. Leofwine didn’t rush to do as anyone demanded, even the queen and Leofric, of course, knew that he’d lied and that the queen didn’t wish to see his father.
Once within his rooms, Leofwine turned a gleaming eye on his son.
“I see you’re feeling better.”
Leofric nodded a little sullenly at the mild rebuke, but Leofwine didn’t say anything further.
“You know son; I’ve been dealing with Eadric for a long time. You don’t need to rescue me from his verbal assaults.”
Oscetel was grinning from his seat where he was removing his boots. Clearly, he’d been cautioning him, not complimenting him for intervening when he’d caught his eye earlier.
“Apologies, I just thought it would be better for you and Northman if you didn’t have to verbally spar with each other.”
Leofwine’s face crinkled at those words.
“Northman and I have been doing the same since he went to live with Eadric as a boy. Neither of us needs saving from Eadric, but for all that, you have my thanks. I didn’t want to have to speak to him. That’s why I left the meeting so slowly. And now to more pressing concerns. Has anyone heard anything about the king’s intentions towards the Mercian thegns?”
Oscetel made a brief show of refilling his jug from the supply within the room, making Leofric wince a little, as Leofwine grinned, and then he spoke.
“As Edmund said, there are rumours and counter rumours everywhere. The king is clearly planning something, but no one knows what it is. But Leofwine, I’ve heard that the final decision may come down to Eadric.”
“Why would the king allow Eadric to decide? If it’s treason, it’s treason against the king not against Eadric.”
“That’s what I’ve heard,” he said, shrugging as he regained his seat. “There are more rumours about the king’s health. Emma is doing her best to keep the rumours at bay but there have been herb women and men visiting the king, and he took to his bed all last week.”
“And what do they say is wrong with him?”
“Emma says a mild cold, nothing more, but others say that he struggles to breathe and sometimes coughs so violently he can’t regain his breath.”
“So how is he able to stand and attend the Witan now?” Leofric pressed, intrigued, for if the king was as ill as they were saying he should be in his bed and probably, secluded away from anyone else so that the contagion didn’t spread.
“I’d say sheer bloody determination or; he wasn’t as ill as I’ve heard.”
Leofwine was silent as Oscetel spoke, but he jumped to his feet on that pronouncement, startling Cyneweard from his position at his feet.
“I think I’ll seek out the queen, after all, she is looking for me,” he said with a thinly veiled glance of amusement at his son. “She’ll answer my questions if I ask. Leofric, you come with me, and Oscetel, perhaps you and the men could mingle with the other household warriors and see what you can find out.”
Oscetel groaned a little at that; he’d spent most of the night before mingling with other men who commanded their Lord household troops, and Leofric had heard him complaining about its tediousness.
“I know, but if we know what’s going to happen, or what might happen, we can ensure we take steps to either be involved or be as far away as possible from any altercations.”
Chapter 23
AD1015
Northman
Oxford
Northman was uneasy. Eadric was clearly up to something, but for once and perhaps more worryingly still, he was keeping silent about it all. Not even his brother seemed to know what he was involved in and that worried Northman even more. Eadric had been with the King almost exclusively since he’d returned to his side on receiving one of Eadric’s increasingly irate messages. He’d come straight to Eadric where he was attending upon the king at Wantage and had been greeted with a condescending, “at last,” and hadn’t been included in any of his confidences since.
Seeing his father and brother at Oxford was seriously making him consider returning to their allegiance once more. Certainly, he was accomplishing nothing here no matter how hard he tried.
Seeing the king had given Northman a scare. It was all well, and good discussing who would succeed him when it appeared hypothetical but facing the king when he bore the ravages of illness and age so openly made it all more real. One way or another, and it would be soon, Northman would be swearing his allegiance to a new king of England, and who that might be was exercising Eadric, the king, and also the queen.
Emma was suddenly in constant attendance upon the king. Sitting with him throughout the day and having her children come before their father at regular intervals. The king enjoyed the company of Edward and Alfred, and even Northman found the two boys engaging company, but they were just that. Boys and only boys. They didn’t have the presence that Cnut had and neither did their appearance cause any to bow their knees to their possibly future kings. No, Northman was convinced that no matter what the queen might think, it wouldn’t be either of the boys who was crowned king after their father.
She was still trying her hardest, insinuating herself into conversations taking place between the king and Eadric, and she often had a steady stream of messengers reporting to her. Æthelred appeared still and stagnant in contrast to her constant activity, even though he was scheming with Eadric and still had Thorkell as both his companion and a constant reminder of the ship army he had at his command, at least for now.
Northman wondered if Thorkell knew what Eadric and the king were plotting. He co
uld do with knowing one of Thorkell’s men a little better, but they all shied away from talking to him. No matter that Eadric was the king’s firm favourite; he and all his adherents were not deemed suitable acquaintances for the Norseman and his men. That had been made very clear to Northman on more than one occasion.
“What do you think they’re up to?” Olaf whispered under cover of passing the mead jug to Northman and nodding his head vaguely in the direction of the king and Eadric, where they sat together at the front of the king’s hall, feasting.
“God above only knows,” he said just as softly. “But I don’t think it’s a good sign. They’re going to do something, and I’ve not got a clue what it is.” His frustration filled his voice even though he’d tried to hold it at bay.
“I don’t think it’s just you Northman. I don’t think anyone knows what they’ve got planned, and you’re not the only one to think that they’re up to something. I’ve heard his brother trying to extract some information from that young lad he has as his servant, but the lad knew nothing either. Not that he’s the brightest, but he does have to spend far more time with Eadric than any of the rest of us.”
“Do you think it concerns Morcar and Sigeforth?”
“It’s bound to. They’re not being very careful with who they’re seen talking to, and even Emma was berating Æthelred for failing to act against them. She fears that they’re allying with Cnut’s wife’s family and that could be catastrophic for her, especially now that Æthelred is ill.”
Northman turned his attention back to the other people in the hall. He’d not taken an active interest in what the two Mercian men were doing, but as he watched them now, he saw that they were ostentatiously trying to enjoy themselves and that they were surrounded by men who’s loyalty the king already questioned.
Æthelmær from the Western Provinces sat amongst them, he looked a little out of place, as he was far older than the rest of the men. While he might have held out the longest against Cnut, it was unclear whether Æthelred had forgiven him yet or not for finally submitting to the Danish king. His father had almost revered Æthelmær’s father and had once spoken very pointedly to Northman about how the skills of a father might not be passed onto the son, and also that king’s might not always want to continue to give their support to one particular family on the death of the father. It had been a warning and a caution. Northman shouldn’t expect to replace his father no matter how good a man he was.
Æthelmær was a prime example of that. His father had been a wise man, a great man. A writer and a man of God but his son just didn’t quite have the same skills. He didn’t inspire loyalty in men in the same way and neither could he play the king or the other great men of the land. Instead, he was one of the men who could be played and moved around at will to do another’s bidding.
No, Æthelmær had finally been given his father’s position years and years after his death, but even then the king didn’t give him anywhere near the same respect. It was no surprise to see him with Morcar and Sigeforth. It seemed to Northman that he’d normally be found wherever trouble was brewing.
Uhtred and Ulfcytel weren’t with the two thegns, but men from their households were. Like Leofwine, they’d decided to keep an eye on the two hot-headed men. Or unlike Leofwine, they were keen to be seen with the men making the most obvious statements about the future king of their country.
Northman was surprised to see his brother sitting with the Mercian thegns, but it was obviously a ploy by their father. He sat attentively, pretending to drink and eat as the other’s did, but his eyes were alert, peering into the heart of the conversations taking place around him and he was making himself scarce. If Northman hadn’t known it was his brother by his very posture, he would have just morphed into the men around Morcar and Sigeforth.
Northman raised his cup to his mouth, his eyes on his brother, and he wished himself sat beside him. Life was a strange thing, always twisting and turning, and right now, a little bit of ordinariness would have suited him.
The feast swirled around him, and he ate and drank as quickly as he could, signalling to Olaf that he should do the same. He wanted to sneak away, spend some time on his own and while Eadric was with the king it was the perfect opportunity.
Chapter 24
AD1015
Leofwine
Oxford
It was Edmund, somehow he’d known it would be, who came to him hurried and terrified. But he’d had no idea that the king would have been quite so brutal and so irrational.
Leofwine was in his friend’s hall, long since having walked away from the feast in the king’s hall that the king and queen had been presiding over together. It would have been better to say the queen was presiding over it. The king had barely eaten and hardly spoken, other than to Eadric.
Edmund came with three of his most trusted warriors, alert and battle ready, banging on the front door in the still of the night. At their appearance, Oscetel had commanded Leofwine’s men to do the same, but Leofwine had waved their eagerness aside.
“My Lord, I fear I was right and wrong in all the wrong places.”
Leofwine hadn’t been asleep, but he had been still and enjoying some silence for the first time since arriving in Oxford. He was making use of his friend’s hall although he wasn’t in Oxford at the time having been called away on urgent business.
“What’s happened?” he asked bluntly, wanting to know so that he could begin to plan, as he must.
“Eadric, he’s murdered Sigeforth and Morcar.”
Leofwine jumped to his feet at that.
“What do you mean murdered? They weren’t to go anywhere near him how could he have done so?”
“I don’t know, but I’ve seen the bodies and know it happened. They were covered in blood.”
“When did this happen?”
“Tonight, not long ago. Eadric is raising an ear-splitting noise at the king’s palace. To anyone who’ll listen he says that he called them to his private rooms to ask them if they still supported Æthelred or not, and when he confronted them they tried to kill him, so he killed them first.”
Leofwine was pacing by now, trying to process what Edmund said.
“What has the King said?”
“Nothing, he’s in his bed. Emma won’t let anyone see him. She says he’s tired and ill after the strain of the Witan.”
“And what about at the palace? What’s happening now?”
“Eadric has taken charge. He’s not letting anyone leave, or anyone arrive. His men are everywhere. I got out because your son was at the front gate and he said it was imperative that I be allowed out. He looked terrible.”
“I’m sure he did. Now, sit, and calm down. Your life is not in danger, and neither is anyone else’s. This was a move by the king to terrify those he fears plot to remove him or his heirs from the throne.”
“You think he knew what Eadric would do?”
“I imagine he told him to do it. We’ll know more when the Witan meets tomorrow. No doubt they’ll be something said.”
“You seem very calm, My Lord,” Edmund almost accused.
“No, My Lord. I’d prefer to be incoherent with rage, but I must find out all I can, piece together what happened, and decide how best to tackle the next few days. The king will be watching us all, and he might wonder why you came running to me, or he might not. We need to think about this carefully.”
Oscetel had managed to find some mead by now and was sharing it amongst the men who’d been woken from their slumbers by the banging on the door. They were milling around in a half confused state, aware that Oscetel had asked them to arm themselves, whereas Leofwine had not. Those who shared Oscetel’s concern had made themselves scarce, guarding the front gate of the hall. Leofwine let them do as they must. They were probably right to be alarmed.
“The king will be watching, or, I imagine it more likely that Eadric will be waiting to see who panics and who doesn't, who raises their voice and who questions any supposed evide
nce they might have. Tread carefully Edmund. You and Eadric are known to be opposites and the king is, sadly, more likely to believe Eadric than you.”
Edmund slumped to a stool before the flickering night fire, placing his elbows on his knees and resting his head on his hands. Leofwine thought he looked ill.
“It’s all my fault,” he mumbled.
“Don’t be a fool. How can it be your fault? You didn’t make Morcar and Sigeforth act as they did, and you certainly didn’t make Eadric murder them.”
“It feels like I did?”
“That’s your emotions speaking, and I don’t blame you for them, but it’s not your fault, and you need to remember that.”
“I can’t believe the audacity of the man. How can he just kill two people and think he’s going to get away with it!”
“He’s killed before, with the king’s agreement.”
“But … well, I didn’t think he’d ever do it again.”
“The king’s getting old and desperate, and he’s trying to please Emma.”
There was more noise from outside, and Oscetel disappeared to find out what was happening. He returned with his face stony.
“A messenger from the king demanding your attendance my Lord.”
Leofwine held his gaze for a moment.
“Who came?”
“One of Eadric’s men.”
He did nothing else but nod as he absorbed the information.
“We will go. Edmund, you come with me. Tell the king that you came to inform me of events as a matter of urgency. That you were worried and wanted to ensure I had my men deployed to protect the king.”
Edmund said nothing but nodded as he stood and made himself ready to return to the place of slaughter.