by M J Porter
“Leofwine, I fear I may not live through the battles to come, for there will be many battles. Before you left, I wanted to thank you. I’ve been a weak man during my time on this Earth, but I plan on making up for as much of it as I can in the coming months.”
Leofwine didn’t know what to say to the man he’d long since lost all hope and trust in. He was a figurehead, nothing more. He deserved some respect for what he had done. He had been an ealdorman for longer than Leofwine, and that was a feat worthy of celebration.
“I wish you well, and you have my thanks, Ælfric as well. You’ve been a consistent supporter of the king, and whether I approved or not, your loyalty is what counts.”
Ælfric extended his arm to him, and Leofwine grasped it before the man shuffled away. Leofwine felt a moment of premonition. This was a time of monumental change. Men who’d supported the king throughout his long reign would be lost in the next struggle, and the king himself may not make it. Change was coming, and Leofwine didn’t like it. Not one bit.
Chapter 34
AD1016
Northman
Mercia
He rode as part of Cnut’s advance force. As soon as they’d made landfall near London, Cnut had made it clear that he wanted to establish a base as near to his wife’s home as he could. Finally, the thought of meeting his son was guiding his steps. Northman tried not to think that it might have more to do with the refusal of the Londoners to open their gates for the Danish Prince.
Northman thought of his family. He would like nothing more than to see them again but he had a terrible feeling that whatever battle came might well be his last for he’d be fighting Englishmen and they’d be very keen to kill him for his traitorous activities. It wasn’t a comforting thought.
Cnut had sent some riders to scout the area, and they’d returned with news that the whole country was in a state of flux. Edmund was marching to confront them, and according to some reports, Uhtred of Northumbria and his father were going to combine their forces with Edmund’s own. With the combined power of the fyrd of Northumbria and Mercia, the native forces would far exceed Cnut’s own, even though they were massive.
Northman wondered when the attack would come, where the battle would be joined, and whether or not he’d be able to escape and mingle his way through the English lines so that he could seek out his father and return home? Suddenly, that was the only thing that seemed important.
As he rode his horse hard, he looked around at the terrain they galloped through, noting that the hills were still sheeted in the white snow while the lower ground was crisply frozen. It had been a cold winter and not the best time to be away from his warm home and an even worse time to be spending the night under canvas. He shivered despite his warm layers. It was only going to get colder.
His hopes and fears had become minuscule things, and for today it boiled down to only one thing; get to Northampton, see Ælfgifu and sleep under a roof with a hearth as opposed to a canvas with a drafty door.
He shivered again. He was fed up of being cold. It had been chill on the ships. Their welcome at London had been even more frigid, and now he rode through sheeting rain and sleeting snow. Winter was the time to be at home, not listening to a mad man who said that he must see his son, now.
Chapter 35
Winter AD1016
Leofwine
Near York
Damn it was bloody cold, he thought to himself as he waited patiently for Uhtred to catch up with him. He’d delivered the king’s message in a smoky hall filled with the delightful smells of a feast and Uhtred had jumped to defend his king, while his wife, the king’s daughter had shown nothing but concern for her recovering father and his untrustworthy ally.
Only two days had passed since then, and Uhtred and his men were readying themselves, promising that more would follow. No one wanted to be rousted from his or her warm homes during the chilly weather, but neither would they allow Cnut to take advantage of their disinclination. The men from Northumbria were used to cold weather, not admittedly as cold as in Norway, but they fancied it must be on a par with everything they’d ever heard about Denmark’s.
Leofwine was pleased to find them so keen to fight.
He’d cautioned Uhtred to ensure there were enough men left to defend Northumbria from attack either along its long coast, or the border with the Scots, not to mention a land attack from northern Mercia. Uhtred would have liked to laugh the caution aside, but there was something that made him hesitate and call his most trusted warriors to him. Between them, they’d decided how best to accomplish everything that needed doing without putting the defence of England as a whole at stake.
Uhtred was angry beyond words at Eadric’s duplicitous act. Leofwine knew the two men had long hated each other and for now, he was happy to let the hatred fester. Whatever had Uhtred working at such a quick speed was to be thanked and applauded.
For himself, he had his son Leofric with him and Oscetel and the rest of his men. Olaf and Orkning, sent home to be with their father Horic on his deathbed, would keep his home safe, and they knew enough of the Norsemen that they could be relied on to make a temporary alliance with them if there needed to be one. Leofwine’s name inspired trust amongst all of Cnut’s men. He was grateful for it and also a little rueful. He only wished the king’s name had been as inspiring. Cnut had painted a picture of a weak and useless king, with his throne already having been taken from him once, they thought it would be easy to do the same again.
Eadric might just have made it easy as well.
Still, there was Edmund and Uhtred and Ulfcytel, and they would fight to the death to stop Cnut claiming their land.
Leofwine rubbed his face with his gloved hand, the chill gloves rubbing uncomfortably over his wind-chapped face. He was too old and tired for this. The cold was in his aches and pains making every jolt of his trusty mount almost agony. He bore it for his king. Or did he?
Leofwine had given up considering why he did what he did. The King was once more his friend and ally. Edmund looked at him as some saviour and yet Cnut also saw Leofwine and saw a friend, for all that he’d played him false with the geld and the promise to attack. Eadric was more than likely to blame for that so he was trying not to feel too harsh towards Cnut. It couldn’t be denied though that it would have been more pleasant if Cnut had waited until the king died. Then they wouldn’t all be shivering their arses off in the frigid weather.
His breath puffed before him, and Leofric sidled his horse over to him.
“Father, you look ill. Can I get you anything?”
“I’m not ill son, just bloody cold. Aren’t you?”
“Yes and also no. I think my rage keeps me warm.”
“I wish I still had enough rage to keep me warm.”
Leofric once more looked at him with worried eyes and Leofwine forced himself to be flippant.
“It’s nothing son that a warm bed and a warm woman wouldn’t heal.”
His son looked embarrassed at the reminder that his father was a man as well as his father, and savouring his small victory; he watched his son return to his cohort of friends and warriors. He was proud of Leofric. He was a good lad and would make a fine lord. He knew when to chastise and when to compliment, and he was beginning to read the political landscape as well. Not that it was an easy task at the moment. No, there were too many self-interested parties for the future to be gleamed with any security. Any one of the men who thought they knew what this time next year would bring was fooling himself. Each day, each month, each week, brought the opportunity for change.
Finally, Uhtred joined Leofwine, an apologetic grin on his face.
“We’re ready now my Lord Leofwine. Now, let’s go and find our future king and a little pig who needs sticking with as many blades as I can find.”
He kicked his horse to a gallop and set off at the front of the long line of his men. Leofwine estimated that at least five hundred mounted men followed their Lord. He shook his head in surprise. How co
uld Uhtred keep so many men armed and mounted during the harsh winter? And then he rethought. No doubt he had to. Uhtred was the ealdorman of Northumbria, a land constantly under threat from the Scots, the men of Strathclyde, the raiders and of course, any bastard from the south who decided they wanted to try their luck at governing the Northumbrians.
They found Edmund and the men of the fyrd with little difficulty in the northern lands of Mercia after barely two days of riding. He greeted them grimly. He had little or no news of Cnut. He had men searching for Cnut all over England, but as yet, none had found him, and Edmund was growing frustrated. Uhtred, eyeing the king-to-be with some interest, he was after all married to his sister, made a suggestion that had Edmund relaxing within moments.
“While we search for Cnut we should exact some revenge on Eadric.”
“What do you propose?” Edmund asked, his eyes dancing a little. Leofwine was firmly of the opinion that the men knew what the other was talking about.
“We’re close to his heartlands; we should raid and attack his property and his land. Not his people, if we can avoid it. But we should repay his treachery with a little bit of practice for the coming battle. For we will meet him in combat.”
Edmund, accompanied by his younger brother Eadwig had immediately agreed to the idea and had looked to Leofwine to see if he wanted to participate. Luckily, he’d promised to return to the king as soon as he was able. He preferred not to be involved in demolishing buildings that he’d once maintained or ordered to be built while he’d been Ealdorman of Mercia. He assumed that the two men were too young, or too forgetful, to remember that Mercia had once been his.
Leaving Leofric and half his men to support Edmund and Uhtred, Leofwine once more climbed on his horse and had him turn southwards so that he could inform the king of what was happening and ensure that he continued to improve. As he rode through his land, along roads, he’d traversed countless times throughout his life he felt melancholy once more. The feeling of change and impending doom were almost too tangible. He felt as though he could see it, see the land filled with men who spoke Cnut’s tongue, who thought as he did, who fought as he did and he feared for his children and the future.
He wondered how he could ever have thought that Cnut as king would be a good idea. How could he have thought that letting a man with the thought of blood lust foremost in his mind become the English king was a good idea, the way for England to survive complete and intact?
The king had been moved from Oxford to Cookham, a move that Leofwine took to be a good sign. The king was making himself more available to the marching army. He was now within spitting distance of the Thames, the path Cnut had chosen to attack England, and when Leofwine was shown into the king’s presence, it was, for the first time in months, not to find him in his bed, but rather presiding over the remnants of his Witan.
He greeted Leofwine effusively, a beaming smile on his face.
“I’ve had word that Cnut has retrieved his wife and has attempted to open the gates at London, only my people refuse to allow him access.”
“Does Edmund know?”
“Yes, I’ve sent messengers to have him turn this far south.”
“Good, we wondered why we couldn’t find him, but if he’s backtracked to London, then that would explain that. How old is the news?” Leofwine suddenly thought to ask, and the king looked at him intently.
“A few days no more. I think. Why?”
“Just a fear that he'll try to exploit any weakness he can find. I’d be happy to find he was in London. Overjoyed in fact, but I think we should have the information verified. We need to know he’s at London before Edmund and Uhtred turn this way.”
A flicker of annoyance flashed across Æthelred’s face but immediately he called for a rider, and relayed what he wanted to know. The rider flicked his gaze at Leofwine and nodded with understanding.
“I’ll go now, my Lord. I should return by tomorrow at the latest.”
“Try not to be seen or be caught,” the king cautioned and Leofwine noted the aggrieved look on the riders face. He was a man he recognised. He’d served the king for years.
When he returned two days later, his face was grim.
“My Lord,” he rushed into Æthelred’s presence, “Cnut left London a week ago. The rumours say he’s travelling north.”
Æthelred glanced at Leofwine when he heard that, and Leofwine felt a stirring of unease. Had they been played for fools after all?
“I think he’ll have gone north, to Uhtred’s lands. He knows that Uhtred is coming south for him. I imagine he’s slipped past him. We must send to Uhtred not to come to London.”
The rider nodded at the direction and turned to leave.
“You need not go,” Leofwine cautioned.
“No, I want to. Better that than sitting here wondering what the bastard’s up to.”
Chapter 36
AD1016
Northman
Northern Mercia
They were keeping to the east of the country, not within sight of the ship army, but close enough that if they needed to, there was the possibility of a retreat to the ships at the coast. Each commander of a ship had been told to keep the captain with that ship. That way they could snake their way up the coast, keeping level with the attacking force. It was a good idea and showed how Cnut and Thorkell had learnt from mistakes made before when they’d attacked England.
Cnut understood that Edmund was keeping to the central regions and the western lands. He’d smirked when he’d been told the news, and only later had Northman worked out why. It was just possible that Edmund was lying waste the lands of his brother-by-marriage. That would be retribution indeed against the contrary bastard.
At some point, Eadric realised the same and he demanded that Cnut allows him the command of his men to reclaim his lands. Cnut refused and earned Eadric’s hatred. Sadly it wasn’t enough to have him run back to the English, but Northman reckoned that if he took the time to make constant snide remarks to Eadric about it then it was only a matter of time before Eadric left Cnut once and for all.
While Edmund and Uhtred attacked the west; Cnut called the fastest riders to him. He planned on rushing up the eastern side of the country and taking Northumbria while it was devoid of its ealdorman. Northman unhappily was part of the advance force, as was Eadric. Thorkell was to protect Cnut’s son at Northampton, while the majority of the army was to hold Mercia or follow Cnut north.
Northman was called into service as a guide, but once the Mercian lands were left behind he was of little use.
“Cnut, my Lord. I apologise, but I don’t know the lands well now.”
“I understand, and my thanks for your help this far. I know the lands this way. I’ve been here before. Only we landed not far from here. I’d not have been able to get to here via the horses, but now I’m here, I can be my guide.”
Northman fell back from his place at the front of the vast army and settled himself close to Eadric. Eadric hadn’t spoken to him for the last day, and he was enjoying the peace and quiet. He could tell how unhappy he was, but he had no intention of making him feel any better. He’d got them all into this, and it was his duty to either get them out again or accept his role and do his best for his men. Northman knew that he’d do neither. He wondered if Eadric was scared of the decision he’d made? Here they were, riding to Northumbria to claim the lands of Uhtred and Eadric couldn’t help but be thinking that Cnut might well do the same to him. Or could he? Northman cast a sideways look at Eadric’s sullen face. He only wished he knew exactly what he thought and why he did?
It took only three days to reach York and what a sight it was. Uhtred had taken no chances; he’d left many men to guard the entrance to his kingdom. Cnut rode to see if the news his outriders brought him was correct, stunned to see the army that waited patiently outside York. How could Uhtred have known what he’d planned? How? They’d travelled stealthily and with no advance force. Unless Uhtred had the power of foresight, t
his attack should have been a complete surprise for the Northumbrians.
Cnut managed to hide his surprise and annoyance well, and when he ordered the men to make camp and prepare for battle the next day, Northman knew that he wasn’t going to let anything stand in his way. There were rumours that he’d promised Northumbria to Erik and as Erik had accompanied him north, it seemed likely that it was the truth. Having come so far, Cnut was not about to turn back now.
Northman too journeyed to the outskirts of the settlement at York, keen to see the defences with his own eyes. He had a feeling that this standing army was the work of his father, and that pleased him. It was good to realise that Leofwine knew Cnut almost as well as he did Æthelred.
The next day the battle was brief and barely bloody at all. Somehow Uhtred had been informed of Cnut’s position, and he arrived when the two sides had barely begun to engage and sent a message to Cnut asking him to meet with him, and arrange a truce.
Cnut did just that and somehow gained Northumbria through far more peaceful means than he deserved when Uhtred swore allegiance to him and gifted Northumbria to him. Northman only heard of events after they’d transpired and his hopes that Cnut would be repelled were dashed. When Cnut rode into York, as it’s Lord and King, he did so with splendour and his normal openhearted way. He greeted the people. He spoke with the people, and he made them all feel special and valued and as though having Cnut as their king now was the most natural thing in the world.
To Uhtred he showed his true colours, or rather Eadric did. In a shocking repeat of what had happened to Morcar and Sigeforth, York woke the next day to terrible news. Uhtred was dead, murdered some said by Eadric, and then the news became somehow less important when messengers arrived from archbishop Wulfstan for Uhtred. The king was dead. Edmund was now king and Cnut’s rage roared around Uhtred’s old palace, as he stormed from the place desperate to claim the whole land of the English as his own.