by M J Porter
The thought was a mar on his journey, which he’d faced with excitement instead of his habitual dread of meeting new people and enduring their silent questions and open stares. Surely everyone in England knew of his story by now, as Brunhild’s cold reception of him had shown. He realised he faced different difficulties now. His face was no longer the only issue: what he stood for as an ealdorman was.
****
The Reeve of Lichfield did not deign to show his face for nearly a week after Leofwine arrived. By the time he did appear with his small guard, his wife had been relegated to one of the well-maintained houses near their previous home, set aside for visiting officials of the King. It was a lovely little space, but Brunhild didn’t appreciate being displaced and was as unhelpful as possible. The only good to come from her removal from the house was that the servants who lived and served her refused to go, choosing instead to stay and serve the ealdorman and his kind, if stern, wife.
In a matter of two days, Ǽthelflaed had instilled order and respect amongst the handful of tired-looking servants, and they ran to do her bidding, cleaning and tidying as they went, and Leofwine slept a little easier in his bed fearing an infestation of lice less and less with time.
Leofwine also quickly discovered that where Brunhild had been ineffectual, her husband clearly had not been, and when the man made an appearance he was full of apologies and contrition for not having been there when they’d arrived. He’d missed the King’s messages as he’d been conducting a brief survey of the lands he was responsible for, having heard of the disturbances in the south.
He was a fiercely energetic man, skinny to the point of boyhood, although his head was almost bald. He rode a horse almost as long in the tooth as he was. Evidently the man loved his horse perhaps more than his younger wife, who he routinely shot disapproving looks at as she sat about her house doing nothing to maintain its comfort or his own, merely issuing commands to a select handful of servants who hated her. Leofwine quickly decided that he liked Eadred far more than he had at first thought he would.
While Ǽthelflaed settled to life in Lichfield, Leofwine and the majority of his men travelled and surveyed the major towns of Mercia. First they went to the ancient town of Tamworth where it was believed Penda, the great Mercian King, had housed his capital. Then they travelled to the border with the Danelaw, passed Repton and Breedon as far as Nottingham. The journey of over two weeks, at a leisurely pace, allowed Leofwine to meet the royal officials the King had utilised to run the lands since the death of the last Ealdormea. They were a varied and vivid selection, from surly fat gentlemen, grown rotund on the goodwill of the King, to men who were keen to see the land governed well for the King and who were pleased to see an Ealdorman who had military experience.
Oscetel was a constant companion on the journey, as was Finn, who made notes and wrote as Leofwine desired. There was so much to remember that he realised early on that he needed to have the details in writing, and he wanted someone else to remember annoying details for him. Finn proved to be more than able, although Northman and Leofric missed him as they made clear when he returned on a chilly evening and found himself harangued for stories and games. Finn took it all in good stead, enjoying being the centre of attention.
Leofwine was pleased to send a report to the King which detailed how prepared the area was if there was to be another incursion. Sadly, the news he received back from his King was less pleasant, and a dull vein of fear began to throb almost continuously within him.
He moved his family from Lichfield to the more defendable Tamworth, gifting Eadred back his home. He declined to take it, much to his wife’s disgust. He’d taken to living a less complicated life in his smaller house and had decided that he needed to be in constant attendance on Leofwine. Luckily he made it clear to his wife that she wasn’t involved in his relocation plans.
Wulfstan, Oscetel, Finn and Eadred regularly discussed the current situation, offering ever-changing opinions depending on the most recent news from the King. The people of the land were strangely calm, never resolved to the reality of a coming conflict, but aware that precautions had been taken and that warriors would and could fight for them. They had faith in their King following the Battle of Strathclyde, and not having heard of Swein of Denmark’s threat, they didn’t share in Leofwine’s fears.
****
The spring was fair and the summer glorious. Leofwine’s children flourished in their new and constantly changing surroundings, and a strange calmness overcame him. He allowed himself to be convinced that the peace he was enjoying would last, and he felt himself learn to laugh more easily as he fully relaxed for the first time in years.
He, like his people, prepared for an attack. He trained each day, often all morning or all afternoon, watching with amusement as Northman tried to join in, making a passable attempt at much of the training. Leofric was still far too young to train with the men and yet he had a fierce desire to be as old as his brother. He worked just as hard and for just as long, all three of them collapsing at the end of their respective days exhausted. Ǽthelflaed hid her own fears for her boys well and laughed along with them when they recounted in great detail their various feats.
Wulfstan was the young boys’ most virulent defender. He was convinced that the two were somehow prodigies who would make excellent warriors in only a few years. He spoke at even greater lengths of their instinctive fighting techniques, and as Wulfstan’s beard turned ever whiter, Leofwine couldn’t help but feel remorse that his own father was not here to play grandfather to the boys. At the same time, he was overjoyed to know that they had Wulfstan; his father would have approved of his oldest friend and comrade teaching his grandsons.
He was sent regular reports from Horic, often by Horic’s own sons, four of them now old enough to act in their father’s name. Unease coloured Horic’s messages. He thought it was too calm, too quiet and the longer it took for any major attack to happen away from the far southern lands, the worse he thought it would be.
Leofwine could not offer any words of comfort to his man. In his deepest fears he agreed with the man and in the end Horic’s messages became an unwelcome reminder of what was to come as the summer progressed.
And then, finally, as the season reached a hot, sticky zenith, word came from the King of a terrible battle in the southern lands. The message from the King soberly recounted those who’d died in the fight. While the King made it clear that the raiders could not in any way call it a victory, for their losses had been great too, the death of so many more men who Leofwine either knew personally or by reputation grounded him abruptly.
To read the names, so stark on the vellum, suddenly put their predicament into perspective. The King’s High Reeve of Hampshire, Ǽthelweard was dead; Leofric of Whitchurch was dead; High Reeve Leofwine, his own namesake, was dead. And the church had suffered as well: Godwine of Worthy, the son of Bishop Aelfsige, was dead and so was his thegn, Wulfhere. In one battle five of Hampshire’s best warriors had fallen. Leofwine scanned the names over and over again as fear took him and he suddenly worried that one of his friends, or someone else he knew, might have perished in the battle.
The most worrying of all was that those five named would only have been those thought most worthy of mentioning. Alongside them, many other warriors and men of the fyrd would have perished as well. Leofwine imagined the churches of Hampshire echoed with the cries of mourning and grief.
The raiders were far greater in number than in recent years. Not since Olaf of Norway’s last raid had so many attacked in one go. Leofwine feared that Swein of Denmark was behind the assault, as how else could the raiders have coordinated themselves so well? The King agreed, and called his Ealdormen back to him at the Witan. If the Ealdormen could not come themselves, they were to send a representative who was allowed to act in their name and make decisions accordingly.
That little comment at the end of the summons worked as intended. When the Witan assembled before the King and his highest reli
gious men, all the five ealdormen were present, including Pallig. Leofwine eyed him with curiosity. Leofwine was desperately trying not to judge Pallig by his brother by marriage, but still he was convinced Pallig looked a little too smug, as if he was enjoying the King of England’s obvious discomfort at the hands of countrymen he’d allegedly put aside in favour of Æthelred and England.
Ælfric was incoherent with shock at the devastation his lands had seen. The Battle of Dean, coming as it had done after a war of attrition between the two opposing sides, had beleaguered Hampshire. Ælfric had called on the fyrd, and the King had sent more of his troops and still the stalemate, for that was all it was, had been too hard won.
The King was sure they would attack again, but was unsure of where. He’d undergone a complete reversal of opinion since his victory last year. He wanted his army to be proactive and seek out the raiders and drive them from his land, and he was no longer reliant only on his ealdormen. He’d deputised his Reeves to lead their own troops and the men of the fyrd. Leofwine assumed he deemed the Reeves more able to deal with purely practical considerations such as provisioning the fyrd and outthinking the raiders. Leofwine worried though because they’d not had the same military training as the ealdormen and those of the Witan who waited patiently, for the time when an ealdormany would become free. Positions within the Witan were not guaranteed purely by hereditary, just as the linear descent of the throne was not guaranteed either. There were many men many vying for few positions. Any battles and deaths that resulted allowed the King to promote men of military means, but the Reeves were more men of administration. Unlike Ragnor, who Leofwine had met at the start of the summer, not all of the Reeves had trained with sword and shield as young boys. They might only have come to the King’s attention through an opportunistic mention by someone else, and they might only have been a man intent on collecting taxes; fighting wars was for warriors, not men who could count.
Leofwine wondered at the King’s reversal of policy in the southern lands. Why had he sent him to replace the Reeves of Mercia and yet was keen to rely on his Reeves throughout the Kent and Southern areas? He could only reconcile it when he looked at Ælfric and the many failures that had occurred under his leadership. He was a little uneasy, though. Had the King set him up to fail or was it a mark of his skills? He played with the idea but could find no logical explanation no matter what spin he put on current arrangements.
1001 – Part 3
The King called his ealdormen swiftly to order, promising a long service of remembrance for the fallen when decisions had been made.
Ælfric of Hampshire begged his King to consider paying off the raiders as they’d done before but Æthelred was deaf to the idea. Pallig agreed with Ælfric, warning the King in dark tones that the raiders would not leave of their own accord. They’d either need to be driven from the land, with all its easily portable wealth, or would have to be bought off.
Leofsige of the East Saxons also cautioned against further military actions. He said the fyrd were not well armed enough and the men of the household troops unused to sustained attacks. Æthelred visibly bristled at the intended slights to his management of the country’s military might.
Of the ealdormen only Leofwine and Ælfhelm of Northumbria did not join the call for a purchased peace, but luckily they were not alone; many of the churchmen did not call for peace either, saying that until there was a named and known force behind the attacks, it would be unproductive to offer a payment to the raiders. They appeared to be such a disparate lot that there was no guarantee that the payment would work. In all likelihood, the English could raise a huge sum of money to pay the raiders to go away only to have another group arrive expecting the same treatment.
The King listened attentively to all the suggestions and debates, and Leofwine wondered how he could stand to hear such useless suggestions from his ealdormen. It was clear that a further attack was needed, and it was self-evident that the fyrd and the King’s ship army needed to be involved.
“My King, I must speak,” he interjected into a long-winded speech from Leofsige on the perils of attacking. Leofsige cast him a look of annoyance, but the King turned to Leofwine with evident relief on his face,
“Yes, my Lord Leofwine, please go ahead. I’d like to hear something of substance.” The King’s words caused Leofsige to blanch.
Leofwine nodded to acknowledge the words, “We can’t stand by and offer no further attack against these … these thieves and raiders. They take what’s not theirs, and they terrify our people and our religious houses. I know our losses have been grievous, and I mourn those men who’ve given their lives, but we must not allow their deaths to be for nothing.”
In the background, he heard a few murmurs of assent, and the King smiled slightly. Leofwine continued, spurred on by the tacit agreement within the room,
“We need to build on these sparks of victory, and we need to drive them from our shores. Our forebears were able to hold them at bay, and that was before they had the might of the combined land of England at their beck and call. The people of the Mercian lands don’t long for a fight, but they do strive to protect what is theirs, as I’m sure the men of all the other old kingdoms do as well.”
Leofwine could see Athelstan and his aged grandmother, Elfrida, nodding along as he spoke. Calls from other members of the King’s Witan could be heard raised in agreement. The King let the men talk amongst themselves for some time before he restored them to order.
“I think my Lord Leofwine has the right of it. We know that the men who attack us are based in the far South. We must call out the fyrds of Hampshire and those of the Western lands. We must plan patrols and monitor the raiders every movement. We must have the ship army trail them and see where they go, and seek out the commanders who direct their endeavours; and we must have an efficient way to communicate with each other.”
At the King’s words, those who were in accord cheered so loudly and for so long that Hunter skulked away in terror and would only return to Leofwine’s side when the King’s hall was quiet again. As he tried to tempt his errant hound back to him Leofwine laughed, giddy with the knowledge that he’d stirred the King to voice desires that the majority of the men agreed with.
There were some dissenting voices from amongst the King’s ealdormen, and Ealdorman Pallig looked decidedly uncomfortable at the thought of leading English men against his former countrymen. Leofwine thought little of it. He was, after all, now the King’s man and his actions must mirror those of the King, and if they didn’t Leofwine was sure that the men of the fyrd would act as they should. They’d not take lightly to being asked to contravene the wishes of the King and his people. As far as Leofwine could tell, Pallig was not beguiling enough to stir the actions of the men of England to counter the King’s express orders.
“I ask for suggestions from you all, and will reconvene the Witan this evening after our mass of remembrance. We must act as quickly as the raiders.”
Again, there were cheers of acquiescence and Leofwine grinned. It was always this way with him: thinking about the future filled him with fear and dread; decisive action filled him with a resolve that could not be knocked, no matter what.
The men of the Witan broke off into small groups to discuss the situation at greater length. A large swathe of the men clustered around Leofwine, shouting out their ideas and passing different suggestions back and forth. As the conversation swirled around him, Leofwine was only just able to glimpse where Ælfric, Leofsige and Pallig stood huddled together, surrounded by their own small group of followers. They were casting anxious glances at their King and his sons, who like Leofwine, had a large group of supporters around them.
Indicating to Wulfstan that he was to listen to the men who supported the decision to take military action, Leofwine walked purposefully towards the three dissident voices. Pallig watched him with mild interest, whereas Leofsige openly glared, his fury at the turn of events marking his face with angry red splotches. He’d ne
ver been the most attractive of men and now he looked positively ugly.
“My Lords,” Leofwine began respectfully, with an incline of his head.
“My Lord, half-blinded with power, Leofwine,” Leofsige retorted, spitting his words in his anger.
Leofwine raised his eyebrow at Leofsige’s childish retort.
“I’m sorry you so blatantly don’t agree with the ruminations of the Witan and the King. But, I must ask, what else can we do?”
“We can pay the greedy buggers, and they will sod off!” Leofsige’s response was instantaneous and Ælfric nodded emphatically in agreement.
“You’ve not watched them ravage your land, rape the women and the church and burn your crops. If you’d seen them in action, then you’d not want to face them in battle. They’re lethal.”
Leofwine barely hid his disgust at the man’s cowardice,
“Obviously, my Lord, I’ve never encountered them ravaging my lands, but I’ve faced them in battle, and my blindness, which you so kindly alluded to, was provided at the hands of one of the Northmen. I’m not a swaddled babe to call for something that I don’t understand.”
“Of course not, Leofwine, you’re an honourable man who’s seen battle, faced death and lived to see another day.” Again, Leofsige spat in disgust as sarcasm marred his words.
“It’s a great pity that none of the other ealdormen are quite as honourable, and stupid, as you, my Lord. You blindly …” he barked a laugh at his unintended pun, “… follow your King and act as he asks. Do you not know how little he trusted you when you returned, how much he wanted to replace you? For God’s sake, man, he cast your pregnant wife from the comfort of his protection when you were reported as being dead. The King has no love for you. He sees you as a tool, nothing more.”