Viking Enemy

by M J Porter

  Angrier than he’d ever been, Leofwine left the King as early as he could; it was clear he’d not listen to reason and Leofwine resolved that where his King might fail, he would not. He’d guard the land and the people entrusted to him and he’d do it well. The King could play his foolish games; Leofwine didn’t have to be a party to them.

  1002 – Part 1

  Leofwine had steadfastly refused to attend the Witan during the winter months. The raiders had gone to ground on the Isle of Wight again and provided they didn’t raid during the winter months, Leofwine was prepared to leave them there. He realised that with the better weather they’d venture out from their hiding places and try to steal again.

  Messengers had raced between Leofwine and the King for much of the winter. The King was not angry with Leofwine for absenting himself, accepting that he was busy in the Mercian lands that he had retreated to after his aborted attempt to sway the King. The King’s easy acceptance of the pitiful excuses offered by Ealdorman Pallig infuriated Leofwine who thrust himself even more wholeheartedly into keeping the Mercian and Hwiccan lands secure against the raiders.

  There had been no news or further threats from Swein of Denmark, but Leofwine knew that the man had not forgotten his threat or his intent.

  Then the King did something that caught Leofwine completely off-guard. He called his ealdormen to him at Winchester on a cold and frosty February and before them all announced that he was to marry again – the young sister of the Duke of Normandy. The King smirked at his ealdormen, especially Leofwine, or so he felt as he imparted the news. Ǽthelred said he’d given the matter much thought even though his wife was barely cold in her grave. Pallig looked discomforted by the news and Leofwine smirked in his own turn to see Pallig’s plans a little thwarted.

  Leofwine was unable to stop the smile of joy from spreading across his face. This was a bold move by the King and one he hoped would have shocked all the men in the room. By allying himself so closely with Normandy he was putting a stop to the raiders using Normandy as a staging post on any trip to attack England. And by getting himself a new wife, the King was ensuring that his family line would continue to grow. Already he had six sons and four daughters to marry well, but he’d clearly decided that more would be better. Leofwine admired the man’s resolve before remembering that he’d had little to do with the raising of his children, leaving that to his own mother, Elfrida, until her eventual death the previous year.

  “My congratulations to you,” said Leofwine. He spoke genuinely to his King at the first opportunity, clasping his arm.

  “With thanks, Leofwine. I must say I’ve long envied you and your choice of wife. I hope that Emma, as she will be at the Court, will prove to be more to my taste. I’m not yet an old man and shouldn’t be alone in my bed each night.”

  Leofwine smiled wildly, “Indeed not, my Lord. But your first wife did produce fine sons for you.”

  “She did, she did, and I’m proud of all my children. I did, to be honest, consider allowing Athelstan to have the girl, but I’m not minded to give him such an advantageous bride just yet. He’s too often away to truly appreciate a woman in his bed, as I will.”

  Leofwine laughed along with his King. He’d been a good and faithful husband to his bride, even if he’d preferred his mother’s word to his wife’s. Ǽlfgifu had never had the ear of the King other than in the bedchamber and had always played second place to his domineering mother.

  The wedding would take place with all haste, and the King expected all the ealdormen and their wives to attend. However, before the wedding could take place the Witan was rocked by a controversy that shocked Leofwine, even with his low expectations of Ealdorman Leofsige.

  Leofsige had not escaped the ravages of the year before unscathed. His lands might not have been attacked, but his support for paying the raiders off had earned him the scorn of many, as had his allying with Pallig. Even when the King had decided that it would be best to buy off the raiders after Leofsige’s protracted discussions with them during the winter months, the situation had not improved.

  When the King, in the early months of the year, decided that his country must pay more in taxes towards its defence, and must pay the majority of the new geld for the invaders, he instructed his Reeves to collect a higher rate of tax than previously. Leofsige reacted with dismay, even though he’d been instrumental in the plans. He lashed out at the Reeve who’d been given the unfortunate task of collecting from him. And that had not been the end of it. In a shocking twist of events, Leofsige had viciously attacked the man, leaving him battered and dead on the floor of his hall, the rest of the inhabitants and the Reeve’s guard too shocked to intervene before it was too late.

  In an instant, Leofsige went from the ealdorman the King most mistrusted to being a criminal.

  The news rocked the country. Leofsige had long played the part of less than faithful ealdorman, and as Leofwine’s discussion with him the year before had proved, the boundaries between what was his and what was the King’s had blurred with each passing year. Still, he’d been in power since 995, the same year that Leofwine had gained his ealdormany, and his abrupt departure, totally unexpected as it was, caused a huge hole to open up in the way the country was guarded and managed.

  At the hastily convened Witan to sentence Leofsige for his crime, the unease amongst the small number of remaining men was palpable. Outside the joys of early summer might be rolling across the land with the promises of warm weather and new crops, but inside the King’s hall the atmosphere was icy, and not even the King’s impending wedding thawed the tension.

  Leofsige was defiant as he stood before them all, attempting to explain his actions, his face dripping with sweat and his clothing damp below his armpits. Leofwine eyed him with distaste as he lied and floundered through his testimony,

  “My Lord King, my apologies that my actions have brought such disrepute to your name and my own reputation. I intended no such things, and I’d not malign the name of the dead man, but he did draw his weapon in my home.”

  There were cries of “Liar” from the family of the Reeve, and the men of the Reeve’s household were called upon one by one to testify that the ealdorman had lied. Leofwine was unsurprised to find that Leofsige had no oathgivers to support his case and that he called on no one from his family to help him.

  It was clear that while he protested his innocence, he was resolved that his King wouldn’t find him innocent. Normally, the judgement handed down would have been one of death, but he was the King’s ealdorman, or at least had been. In the end, the King decreed he be exiled, with or without his family as they saw fit, and all the land the family had owned would be transferred back to the King. He also had to pay the man’s death fine both to the King and the family of the dead man.

  Leofsige thanked his King for his leniency and left the Witan without another word, escorted on his way by the King’s household troops, tasked with ensuring the man left the country as he should.

  Leofwine couldn’t decide if the decision were a good one or not. Leofsige knew much of the inner workings of the land. Penniless and landless he’d easily find succour amongst the raiders, and perhaps Swein of Denmark would welcome him with open arms. But he didn’t wish the death of the man either, and it was clear that he needed some form of punishment.

  Before he left for good, Leofsige and Pallig had a brief conversation, unheard by any others, but witnessed by Leofwine who wondered what they discussed. Was it just a parting of one-time allies or was it something more?

  1002 – Part 2

  As the quickly convened Witan drew to a close, the King was left visibly deflated by the experience with Leofsige. With a tired countenance, he called Leofwine to him.

  “Leofwine, this business … it weighs heavily on my soul and yet I know I couldn’t have acted any differently.”

  “No, we can’t countenance murder of men acting in your name. I’m afraid that I always found Leofsige to be too keen to act without due cons
ideration.”

  A fatigued smile graced Æthelred’s face, and he grinned scathingly at the words. “Too true, but it did make him an interesting man to have around if a bit of a liability.

  “Anyway, to the crux of the matter …” His tone had changed, hope colouring his voice. “His unexpected banishment from the Court leaves me with an issue that I hope you’ll be able to solve. It was Leofsige that I’d arranged to collect my new bride from her brother. I’d hoped that you would do the honours in his place. Before you interrupt me, I appreciate your concerns; your last overseas trip was not that pleasant.”

  Leofwine held back his flare of anger at the King’s casual mention of his disfigurement and almost death.

  “But, you’re the one man I can trust to send. Pallig has shown himself unworthy, and I don’t wish to tempt fate by sending him over the seas where he may, or may not, meet up with Swein of Denmark. Ælfric is no longer a young man and has always been keener to see to his own needs. And, of course, it would give you the opportunity to use your ship again.”

  The King ended his speech on a wheedling tone, and Leofwine smiled a little to be reminded of his beautiful ship. The King was correct. He didn’t get to use it much and hadn’t travelled anywhere out of sight of his homeland since his return from the Outer Isles.

  Still, he didn’t look forward to a voyage away from home, across a sea known to be a hunting ground of Swein and his men. Neither did he relish the idea of having to tell Ǽthelflaed and Wulfstan, but it was good to know that the King wanted to make such a public affirmation of his trust in him. With a heavy heart, he spoke, “My King, it would be my honour to collect your bride for you, and as you say, it would be good to use my ship. When should I depart?”

  “As soon as possible; I’d arranged with the Duke to collect her when the winter storms passed.”

  “I’ll seek out my shipmen and ask them for their advice and depart accordingly. I’ll send word when we leave so that you can know when to expect us to arrive.”

  Æthelred grasped Leofwine’s arm, “You have my thanks. Your steadying presence is always to be welcomed.”

  Leofwine was, as always, taken aback by the King’s praise but before he could comment further, the King had turned away, dismissing Leofwine from his thoughts.

  ****

  The day he set foot in his ship again was a stunningly still, bright day. He was relieved to see the vast ocean so calm, but his shipmen commented darkly about it being a bad sign. He ignored the men, as he felt the almost forgotten but memorable roll of the waves beneath his feet.

  Ǽthelflaed had taken the news surprisingly well. Wulfstan hadn’t. He’d insisted on coming with Leofwine until he’d been convinced that Horic was the man for the job. With the Mercian lands needing to be managed in his absence, Oscetel couldn’t be spared. He was tasked with overseeing Mercia, while Wulfstan was to watch over the Hwiccan lands with the aid of Horic’s sons. Horic’s oldest son was a fine man, and Leofwine was keen to advance him where he could. He was also astute enough to take orders from Wulfstan even when he didn’t agree with them, and then make any changes necessary.

  Having ensured his affairs were in good order should the worse happen, Leofwine felt fairly confident as the ship was oared into deep water. Ǽthelflaed and his children hadn’t come to see him off, instead staying in the house in Lichfield where he knew they were well guarded and far from the attacks on the Southern coast.

  The King hadn’t come either. He’d stated that if it was too dangerous for him to cross the sea to meet his bride it was also too dangerous for him to venture near to the coast. Leofwine had agreed – almost.

  However, Athelstan and Edmund had journeyed with him to the Southern shore. Leofwine wondered what dark thoughts they harboured at the thought that they might soon have new siblings with a claim just as good as their own to the throne. But whatever their thoughts were, the young men kept them to themselves, and only on rare occasions said anything that could be deemed a criticism of the King.

  Athelstan had grown in stature and reputation since the battle of two years before. He’d commanded the men well when Leofwine had observed him, but now those who served in his household troop were almost in awe of him. Leofwine was sure that all the men would lay down their lives for him, and he did worry that none would gainsay him either. Leofwine knew only too well how important it was to have men serving you who could, on occasion, disagree with you and offer sage words of advice.

  Edmund, he didn’t know well. He’d seen him and spoken to him at the Witan but he’d never seen him tested in battle. He was the spitting image of his brother in all ways, and Leofwine didn’t doubt that within a year or two, he would have the huge muscled build of his brother to match. Both young men were keen swordsmen, and Leofwine was pleased that he was on the same side as them as he watched them spar with each other.

  Horic was joyful to be on board the ship again. He insisted on rowing along with the men and had them all joining him in rowdy songs that Leofwine wished he didn’t understand. Ælfric, the ship’s captain, chortled with glee at Horic’s antics and allowed the men most of the morning to acclimatise themselves to the seriousness of the endeavour they’d been given.

  They did not sail alone either. On either side, two ships from the King’s army flanked Leofwine. Leofwine had worried that any absence from the fleet would be detrimental to its ability to protect the coastal regions. Now as he watched the ships fly through the water to either side of him, he felt comforted by the knowledge that he travelled not only with sixty men who swore allegiance directly to him as their Lord but a further two hundred who did to the King, and by association, Leofwine, while they were away from England.

  Leofwine thought the ships, gleaming in the early summer sun and with new brightly coloured sails to power them if needed, looked magnificent as they plunged through the gentle waves. Only Horic’s raunchy songs made them appear anything less than a lethal force of Æthelred’s. Hopefully, there were none close enough to hear of what Horic sang.

  The journey was a short one, almost over before it had begun. With no sign of any enemies, Leofwine jumped from his ship onto the harbour at Cherbourg to be greeted by men the Duke had sent to welcome him.

  They were not a huge party of men, but there were enough in excellent, rich clothing to make Leofwine think that the Duke was keen to establish far better relations with his King. They welcomed them in their own language before escorting him, Horic and a handful of men, to an enormous wooden church built a short way inland – and here was where the problems started.

  Leofwine, alert as ever, became suspicious when he noticed the huge number of horses tied up outside the Church. He wondered why the Duke would need so many men to protect him from a handful of English men. Entering the large wooden structure he soon had his answer and he barely had time to even acknowledge his surroundings.

  As his own King would do, the Duke was seated at the front of the Church on an ornately carved wooden chair. Men of the Church surrounded him, and those Leofwine assumed helped him maintain order in the land.

  The Duke was a good-looking young man, with intelligent eyes and a casualness that belied the power and wealth at his fingertips. At his side, on a less ornate chair, sat a young pale woman, her hands held protectively over her slightly bloated stomach Leofwine supposed carried the Duke’s first child. The Duke and his Duchess had not been married long, but it already looked as though their marriage bed was fruitful.

  However, in active attendance on the Duke was a face Leofwine had hoped never to see again – the disgraced Ealdorman, Leofsige. He wore a huge grin on his rotund face, and he also held his hands protectively over his fat belly as though he was trying to hold all the excess in, or so Leofwine thought a little snidely.

  With him was another face that Leofwine had never actually seen before other than in his nightmares. Without any introductions being made he was sure that Swein of Denmark stood before him. He too was a huge man, well built, e
ager and well skilled enough to strike fear into the hearts of any who went against him. While he carried no weapons within the Church, his physical presence was threat enough. Leofwine stared at him openly with interest.

  His face, covered with a long beard and dropping blond moustache, was elongated with a sharp mouth and well-formed nose. Leofwine noted bitterly that his face bore no scars from his many battles.

  He was laughing and talking to Duke Richard as was Leofsige as if they’d been friends for many years. A silence quickly descended as Leofwine’s presence was made known around the room with a hush of whispers. With no hurry, Leofsige and Swein bowed their way out of the Duke’s company.

  Leofwine, with Hunter at his heel, strode confidently to where the Duke sat. He couldn’t let his fear, or his horror at seeing the man he thought might be Swein of Denmark, distract him from the duties the King had given him. He stopped before he reached the slight platform upon which the Duke sat and bowed his head,

  “My Lord Richard, I am Leofwine, ealdorman of King Æthelred, and I’ve come to claim his bride for him.”

  The Duke rose from his chair to step forward and clasp Leofwine on the arm.

  “Well met, my Lord Leofwine. It’s good that you’ve managed to make the journey so early in the season. I’m sure my sister …” and he stopped to point out a slight girl, looking intently at Leofwine and his dog, “… will be pleased to know that her husband-to-be is so keen to marry.”