Viking Enemy

by M J Porter

  Other than Athelstan, none of them had yet seen a real battle. He wondered if it was time to call his King to account for his plans but when, on the following day, signing second on a royal charter awarding him land, his thoughts were banished in a swell of self-congratulations. Perhaps there was the possibility after all that his King would see him as the premier ealdorman and seek out his counsel more and more often.

  With his King wed and the geld paid to the raiders who’d been harassing the South since the year before, Leofwine rode for home, hopeful that the raiders were gone for good and that whatever Duke Richard had demanded of his King would come to nothing. He couldn’t have been more wrong. According to reports received from the King, the raiders left gloating over their massive hoard of treasure and as a parting shot they set fire to every religious house and manor they came upon as they retreated to their ships in the far south. The King’s anger was immediate and as Leofwine later discovered, with the threats from Duke Richard hanging over him and some minor attacks from Swein of Denmark and Lord Leofsige, the King’s patience with all things Danish ceased. In a moment of blind panic he ordered his Reeves to rid the country of all people of Danish blood outside the Danelaw by killing them where they stood. Leofwine’s instructions arrived too late for him to carry out his King’s orders on November 13th and by then the King had recanted of his anger. But it was too late. Many Danes were murdered at the King’s hands including Lord Pallig and his wife, Swein’s sister.

  When Leofwine learned of the terrible atrocity, he demanded that masses be said for the souls of the dead, and also for those of the English people. He didn’t think that King Swein would be pleased when news finally reached him during the winter season. Where normally, he would have let his men rest throughout the dark time of the year, he insisted on drills and the riding of the borders. He spent his days assuring those in the Danelaw that the King’s words had been taken out of context by over-zealous young men, keen to do their duty for their King, and he prayed, and he prayed that the birth of his fourth child would not occasion another conflict-inspired name.

  1003

  The year began with a scream, the clang of swords on shields and a death. When Leofwine looked back as the year turned from bad to worse, he couldn’t quite decide which event affected him the deepest. Clearly, the birth of another lusty baby son was fantastic news, and he thanked God for his bounty by arranging for more land to be set aside for the monastery at Deerhurst, but it was all marred by the death of his faithful Hunter. She’d looked ill for much of the winter and often he’d been forced to leave her behind, taking with him one of her children that he’d half-heartedly been training to replace their mother.

  But planning for the future and accepting that she was gone were two entirely different things. He’d not invested enough time into training his new companion dog, and it showed.

  His young children had aptly named the dog Hammer, after a lengthy and long-running debate after his birth two years before. Northman and Leofric had insisted on a ‘proper’ name for the dog but had then proceeded to spoil him and make him more pet than Hunter had ever been. Even before Hunter had been called upon to be his eye, she’d been a dog of activity, not prone to spending any amount of time seeking attention.

  Hammer loved his children, as he saw them, and tolerated Leofwine and his commands when he must. He was the opposite of any dog Leofwine had encountered, keen to growl at the master and a playful puppy in the hands of the master’s children. To curb his frustration with the dog, he finally announced that Northman was old enough to escort him as he went about his duties. Northman was ecstatic, but Leofric and Ealdgyth didn’t share in the joy and Ǽthelflaed grew tired with their constant moaning and bewailing that their dog had been stolen away by their father.

  His own frustration high, having tripped over yet another obstacle the damn dog had failed to alert him to, he told the children he would get them their own puppies provided they trained one of them to help him. Ǽthelflaed laughed at him then – the first time he’d heard her relax since the birth of their son – and she queried whether the new child would have his own dog too. When the entire litter had arrived from the old farmer that Leofwine had initially sought advice from when first training Hunter, his household descended into happy chaos that, surprisingly, Hammer calmed and took charge off.

  Ealdgyth sat for hours grooming her small puppy, whereas Northman had his and his father’s dog to be, outside undergoing a harsh training regime that he’d devised himself. Leofric squirrelled away with his own puppy and the one for his new brother, and belatedly Leofwine realised that the two brothers were in competition to see who could raise the best-trained puppy.

  Much to everyone’s surprise Hammer took his responsibility as surrogate father to the five puppies very seriously and by the time the raiders’ attacks were well under way, Leofwine felt as though he commanded an army of dogs and children as well as men. He was proud of his sons. They would make good commanders of men one day if their puppy training were anything to go by.

  The clang of swords on shields had come from his men, who’d not taken a single day off from their training during the short winter days. There was a palpable air of unease amongst his people ever since the massacre of the Danes on St Brice’s Day. Something was coming, and they knew, as Leofwine did, that it would be Swein-shaped and not pleasant.

  Swein of Denmark didn’t hesitate in his efforts to avenge his sister and brother-in-law. Whether the men had seen eye to eye in recent years was something that Leofwine could never determine, but one thing was clear: it was all the excuse the King of Denmark needed.

  Swein’s attacks on Wilton and Salisbury the following day were carried out ruthlessly and without warning. He and his men bypassed Southampton and stole horses and marched or rode as fast as possible across the open expanse of land until they reached their targets. The fyrd, under Ealdorman Ælfric, had not even assembled when the towns lay in burned ruins. And still Swein sent no word to the King of his intentions or demands.

  King Æthelred, secluded with his heavily pregnant Queen in Woodstock, was far from the atrocities committed during the two days of rampaging. When Ælfric belatedly arrived with his men and the men of the fyrd, he was more than happy to negotiate than face the wrath of the twenty shiploads of men that Swein of Denmark had with him.

  Leofwine, too far away as usual to do more than hear the news after the events had occurred, cursed the King and Ælfric in equal measure. Ealdorman Ælfric was spineless; he always put himself first, and his King and country second. While Leofwine was prepared to accept that he’d faced the enemy more times than any other and could draw on that experience, he held it as no excuse for Ælfric’s actions. He might well have seen friends and relatives die but really, did he want to save himself only for others to experience the same pain?

  Leofwine was disheartened to hear that Lord Leofsige was with Swein. The former ealdorman was making good use of his knowledge of England to enable the Danish King to attack to maximum effect. Salisbury and Wilton, a mere day’s ride from the King’s usual haunts of Cookham and Wantage, were a personal threat that Leofwine didn’t miss.

  Swein’s next move was also heavily infused with meaning, for he fled back to his ships and sailed straight for Exeter, part of the new Queen’s dower lands. As she heaved her King’s son from her belly, her Reeve treated with the King of Denmark and let him take her town. The Queen, unpopular simply because the King found her so appealing, became the subject of scorn. Rumours spread the length and breadth of the country that the Duke of Normandy, unhappy with Æthelred’s attempts to rid the country of the Danish, had instructed his sister to allow Swein of Denmark to take her lands as a blatant attempt to throw the country into further upheaval.

  Leofwine didn’t listen to the rumours that summer. He had no time. He and his men vowed to protect the land of the Mercians and the Hwiccans, and they spared no energy in ensuring the safety of the people as they grew and then harv
ested their crops for the coming winter. He kept in constant contact with his King, but not once did he journey to the King’s Witan, content to allow messengers to run between him and the court. While Swein no longer scared him, news of the carnage he caused as he passed almost unimpeded through the Western lands as if he were punishing the land and the people for the deaths of his sister and her husband, was unhappily received.

  Leofwine wanted to send a message to Æthelmaer, entrenched as he was in the lands his father had held, but he knew it would be foolish to risk the lives of his men on an errand that would accomplish little. The King hadn’t called out the fyrd of the Western provinces, and now it was too late to do so. Leofwine prayed each night for those he feared slaughtered at the hands of the raiders, especially the churchmen, and every night, nightmares filled his dreams and drove him to the comfort of his wife’s arms.

  He loved her more thoroughly that year than he ever had, each sexual encounter tinged with a little sadness as if they both realised it could well be the last time that they kissed and held each other as tenderly as Swein came ever closer to their homeland.

  His young son grew well and strong, cocooned as he was in the heart of the Mercian lands, and Leofwine wished more than once that he could offer the same for all the people of the English territories.

  1004 – Part 1

  The winter months stopped the raiders from carrying out any further attacks, but they kept their camp on the Isle of Wight, a constant threat to the King and his people. Leofwine wondered how Swein of Denmark could govern his lands when he was never there. And then Leofwine questioned who Swein could trust enough to protect those areas for him. Perhaps Swein was luckier in his choice of ealdormen than his own King.

  Ealdorman Ælfric grew more and more adamant that Swein must be bought off; and Æthelred was more and more adamant that he shouldn’t be. The King decried the enormous wealth they’d already expended on the raiders and insisted on a new coinage being issued that showed him in warrior stance. He demanded that the royal officials spread the word of his military prowess and remind anyone who would listen that they’d had a great victory only four years before.

  Leofwine hoped that no one reminded the King of the defeats that the last four years had also bought about.

  The King seemed unhappy with all of his ealdormen, calling them to task for minor infractions that had never been censored before, and Leofwine grew uneasy. His King was planning something, and he wondered what it was. Would the King finally decide to replace all the ealdormen with his sons from his first wife, or would he pick new ealdormen from amongst the royal officials at court?

  But then the King received good news that seemed to restore his faith in his ealdormen. Swein moved his arena of attack from the far south to the lands of the East Angles, raiding Norwich and burning as he went. With Ealdorman Leofsige gone, Æthelred had not named a replacement for the area, but had made the decision to have Ulfcytel, an accomplished but young warrior, stationed in the area with his household troops and the King’s backing to raise the fyrd if and when needed; and to treat with the enemy, if necessary. And that was exactly what Ulfcytel did and with quite dazzling results.

  Initially caught unprepared, Ulfcytel had sought peace with the Danes. Swein, by all accounts, had laughingly agreed, with Lord Leofsige at his side clearly enjoying the discomfort of his countrymen. When Swein subsequently broke the agreement, Ulfcytel reacted with stunning clarity of vision, raising the fyrd and meeting him in battle at Thetford.

  Ulfcytel, a member of the Danelaw political elite, had been a skilled warrior since he could hold a sword; his endeavours had often been the subject of praise in the past, and this time he excelled himself. Rumour had it that Swein of Denmark only escaped with his life because those of the men tasked with destroying Swein’s ships while they raided inland failed to carry out the order promptly, allowing Swein and his men to escape in the remaining half the ships they’d arrived in.

  It was a pity that Swein survived to continue his concentrated attack on the English lands, but it gave the English people heart to carry on with their efforts. As Leofwine had discovered two years before when he’d met the man, the English people realised that Swein was a man, not a God, fallible if the right conditions prevailed.

  The King called together his fractured Witan and Leofwine entered the great church at Wantage with some trepidation. The King could surely not allow the current situation to continue.

  He wasn’t surprised to discover the church almost bursting with men and women, come to pay homage to the King and hear his words about the raiders.

  Ælfric, the old and wizened Archbishop of Canterbury, was rumoured to have made the journey, even at his great age, to show his support for his King. When Leofwine entered the preternatural calm of the church he was not surprised, therefore, to find the man there and surrounded by as many of the leading churchmen as Leofwine had ever seen before.

  Wulfstan of York had also travelled to support his King, and Godwine, the new bishop of Lichfield, had journeyed with Leofwine from the Mercian lands, taking advantage of their joint trip to discourse at length on the King and the state of the country as a whole. The churchman had not alluded to the great massing of churchmen that was going to take place at the Witan and Leofwine felt unhappy that the man had thought the information not worthy of sharing. He’d worked hard to develop a good working relationship with his predecessor but clearly he would need to build a new relationship if he was to share his secrets with his ealdorman.

  All in all, a great swathe of bowed head greeted Leofwine on entering the Church. The men took up two full rows of chairs at the front of the church. Leofwine wondered if the King had summoned them or if they’d come voluntarily, but then Hammer cut him up short and he stopped abruptly, unsure what had upset his hound.

  The dog had improved no end when tasked with keeping order amongst the herd of dogs Leofwine now commanded, but still on occasion something untoward would make him forget all his training. Leofwine bent down and offered the dog a few words of encouragement and Wulfstan gently nudged the recalcitrant dog with his thigh. Hammer walked a little more confidently into the room full of men he’d never met before.

  The King hadn’t yet arrived but his vast collection of sons formed a band of support almost as extensive and broad as that of the churchmen. By comparison, the group of three ealdormen would make a dismally poor showing and Leofwine’s unease grew as he took a seat near the front of the church. The conversation swelled around him but he paid little attention, instead seeking out Ealdorman Ælfric and Ealdorman Ælfhelm, but neither man had arrived yet.

  Leofwine instead turned to the King’s sons and caught the eye of Athelstan. He was sat quietly with his brothers, barely speaking, but impeccably dressed in a finely embroidered cloak clasped together by a dull red gem that reflected the candles from the altar. He nodded and smiled at Leofwine before turning away to glance at the rows of young and old men alike who served the King as his royal officials.

  One of the men caused Athelstan to stare openly, and Leofwine turned to glance at the man. Vaguely he recalled the well-built young man, his youthful face unmarked by any battle scars and his auburn hair neatly trimmed. His clothing was not the best quality and yet he sat with confidence that spoke of some inner calm. Leofwine speculated as to why Athelstan marked him out so openly.

  When Athelstan turned back to meet Leofwine’s eye, his eyes were hooded. Clearly, there was some unspoken message there.

  He turned aside to Wulfstan sat calmly beside him talking to Horic.

  “You see that young man over there, in the row with the royal officials. He has a young face, auburn hair and his clothes are a little rough.”

  Wulfstan turned slowly to look where Leofwine indicated, making it appear as though he only turned to scan the crowd behind him.

  “Yes, I see him.”

  “Do you know who he is?”

  Wulfstan nodded as he turned back to face the front
of the church,

  “Yes, he’s a bit of a rising star in the King’s confidence. I’m sure I’ve mentioned him before. He’s Eadric. He heralds from some long-dead and obscure royal line in the Mercian lands.”

  Beside them, Horic too scanned the crowd,

  “Ah yes, I agree with you. That is Eadric. He’s … a keen individual.”

  Leofwine turned an amused expression on Horic, “And what do you mean by ‘keen’?”

  “Oh, you know. The King could tell him to swallow his own tongue and he probably would. I’ve heard that he has made it plain to all who will listen to him that he plans on gaining the ear of the King and reclaiming whatever misbegotten part of Mercia he claims as his own.”

  “I’ve heard the same, Leofwine. He’s certainly worth watching out for. Why do you ask?”

  Leofwine explained that Athelstan appeared to have pointed him out to him.

  “I’m not surprised,” Horic muttered, “that’s one of the other rumours flying about. He and Athelstan don’t exactly see eye to eye and being so close in age it’s clearly grating on Athelstan that the King sees Eadric as someone worth cultivating, whereas the King stole the bride intended for him.”

  “Is he really so high in the King’s favour.”

  “Yes, he is. He seems to be magnificent at insinuating himself into situations that are none of his concern.”

  Again Leofwine caught Athelstan’s eye and nodded to him to show his message was understood.

  “I think we might need to have a little chat with the young man.”

  Beside him, Horic offered a short bark of laughter and then all the men scrambled to their feet as the King and his wife walked into the church.

  The King, finely dressed and looking younger than ever before if that was possible, walked with his petite Queen, a radiant smile on his face, as his young son Edward was carried in beside them. The King had dressed to complement his wife, but Leofwine couldn’t help but note that it drew attention to the age gap between the pair of them. As young as the King now looked, it was clear to see that he was double the age of his bride. She would have been far better suited to his eldest son.