Viking Enemy

by M J Porter

  Ælfhelm appeared to have sealed his fate with his King and sadly his sons were implicated along with him. Leofwine had always thought highly of Wulfheah and Ufegat; they’d formed a close group at the Witan that Leofwine had on occasion been a little jealous off. He’d have appreciated knowing that other men within the Witan had his back as these youths did for their father and their uncle, Wulfric. Now, if the gossips were to be believed, it appeared that even their careful networks of supporters would not keep them from their King’s wrath. And with the news that the aged Archbishop of Canterbury, Ælfric, had died, Leofwine felt the year ended on as dismal a note as it had started. He didn’t long for the coming year, knowing that it was going to be full of renewed attacks from Swein of Demark, and with his King on a warpath as well it promised to be anything but peaceful.

  1006 – Part 1

  The winter was long, cold and hard and the summer late in arriving. Even in the affluent home he kept they were reduced to eating what little could be found, slaughtering the skinny animals they could no longer feed and eating the stringy creatures.

  Leofwine laboured under no illusion in his home near Deerhurst about what the next year would bring. There were stories and counter-reports circling and somehow, even though he tried not to listen, they all came to his ears. His main cause of concern was for Ælfhelm, the northern ealdorman. He’d made no effort the year before to reach an accord with the King, and his sons were more often than not the subject of violent rumours. Keen warriors, the both of them, they’d turned reckless with the King’s lack of intent.

  He sought solace in the arms of his wife, discovering in her warm kisses and pliant body, the chance of finding oblivion from his worries. But it was never quite enough. He still woke from his hard-won slumbers to the weight of dread.

  With the coming Easter, he knew he’d need to bestir himself to action and make himself available to his King but dragged his feet, dreading the arrival of the King’s messenger more than he ever had before. Then the decision to act was taken from him, and he cursed his slovenliness.

  On a blustery March morning, the sound of horses at his gate alerted him to visitors. The men’s calls were reasonably civil to each other and he assumed it was a friend. The man who walked through his doorway, bringing with him a blast of chilly air, was in all actuality neither his friend nor yet his enemy. Eadric carried weight and muscles on his previously slimmer frame and his every step implied threat. His broad smile of welcome saved the expansive entrance he made from being a violent act as he flung open the wooden door and strode into Leofwine’s home.

  “Well met, Eadric,” Leofwine spoke, standing from his chair near the fire pit where he’d been playing a game of boards with Northman.

  “Well met, my Lord Leofwine. You’ve an excellent home here.”

  Leofwine took the compliment as it was intended.

  Eadric was busy surveying the interior of the property and the number of men who lay sitting, or sprawled, in an unruly formation around the fire pit.

  “The famine hasn’t been too severe here?”

  Leofwine heard his benign words, but understood behind them a criticism.

  “Yes Eadric, it’s been severe but with Ǽthelflaed’s careful management of food and animals we hope to make it through to the better weather.”

  Eadric was more intent on inspecting his home than listening to his answer, and Leofwine’s voice trailed off uneasily. Why had he come here? He’d entered the house alone, but from outside the noises of many men on horseback could be heard. Had the King sent him or had he come alone to enforce his will on the man who stood in the way of his ambitions?

  Beside him, Ǽthelflaed appeared and handed an elaborate carved wooden welcome drinking horn to Eadric. He grasped it within his huge hands as Leofwine introduced his wife. Eadric made no pretence of his appraisal of Ǽthelflaed, and she faltered slightly in her routine of welcoming guests.

  “And your children … they’re here somewhere?”

  Leofwine took a moment to steady himself: he shouldn’t let the man disconcert him. After all he was the older, more experienced man, more able in his role than this young upstart who was still to make his way at the Witan. That Eadric was working on gaining the King’s ear, and heart, should not distract from his self-belief.

  “Northman, please come and introduce yourself to Eadric, and you Leofric, you can come too.”

  Northman had initially slunk away from the game board when his father had stood, but he now strode forward confidently, a wide smile on his young face. At ten years old he was a tall boy for his age, with unruly long auburn hair and intelligent eyes. Leofric at eight was younger and if possible, more confident than his brother. He had an easy demeanour with everyone and would sit and chat to any who would engage with him, from the oldest crone to the tiniest baby. Godwine was too young to be introduced to anyone. A robust toddler, he was playing with his nurse oblivious to the atmosphere in his home.

  Leofwine was proud of both older boys and watched with a wry smile of amusement as Northman offered this imposing stranger an arm clasp of friendship. His voice was high and youthful, but he carried himself well. Eadric smiled at the lads and much to Leofric’s disgust ruffled his hair.

  “And daughters? Do you have daughters?”

  “I do my Lord, just the one so far, but as you can probably see, there may be another on the way.”

  Ǽthelflaed flushed at his words, and Leofwine grinned at her, enjoying her obvious embarrassment.

  “I hope to have a large family myself – soon.”

  “Family is something to treasure. Do you have a bride in mind already? I was probably about your age when I first wed.”

  “I do, my Lord, and I just need to convince the King of my desires,” he said, watching Leofwine’s face intently.

  Leofwine kept the smile of pleasure on his face that talking about his family always inspired, but he felt his resolve slip a little at the news. At last Eadric was coming to the point, and it was clear that he thought it would upset Leofwine.

  “Well, the King chose my bride for me.”

  “So I’ve heard. Only I think, perhaps, I may be a little more fortuitous in my choice of a bride.”

  Leofwine didn’t need to look to Ǽthelflaed or his oldest son to know that they both bristled at the disdain in the words. He chose to bide his time, though; he was intrigued by where Eadric was going with his line of conversation.

  “One of the King’s daughters will, I hope, become my bride.” The smug grin on Eadric’s face was almost unbearable to look upon, and yet Leofwine managed to speak clearly.

  “They’re beautiful girls. I’ve seen them on more than one occasion at the Witan.”

  “The one I propose to take is a beauty, but she could look like the back end of an ox for all I care. All that matters to me is that she is the King’s daughter and that he’ll allow me to marry her.”

  Eadric drawled his words as he casually sat in Leofwine’s wooden chair adjacent to the fire pit. He’d not removed his cloak, and Leofwine admired that he could stand the sudden heat, while being perplexed by the intent behind the words.

  “The King had no daughters at the time of my marriage to be marrying them off, and certainly I’d not have wanted to wait until they were old enough to get married. As you know, Ǽthelflaed is the sole survivor of the old Hwiccan dynasty.”

  “A dynasty as dead as this land,” he droned.

  “Eadric, I’m unsure of the meaning behind your words. My land isn’t dead, and clearly my Lady is alive and well, and her children are the heirs of her body and this land.”

  “But they’re not related to our King.”

  “And neither are you,” Leofwine remarked, the words rushing forth before he could stop them.

  “I intend to be soon, and my sons will have a claim to the throne. Yours never will.”

  “I’ve never expressed a desire to be a king, or to have my children be kings.”

  “Then you don’t
seek enough for yourself and your children. Like this land, you are stagnant and will soon die back.”

  Leofwine’s anger was starting to coalesce at the sheer audacity of the man sat before him. What right did Eadric have to walk into his home and start belittling his accomplishments and those of his family?

  “Was there a reason for your visit today, Eadric?”

  Eadric laughed loudly at the strained words, “Yes and no, my Lord. Firstly, I came to see what of yours I should be coveting; and second, the King asked me to visit you and impress you with his need to see you at the Witan when it’s convened in April. I’d expected more of a welcome from you, but I see I may have been misinformed about your great hospitality.”

  Leofwine weighed the words again. Eadric was clearly saying something without speaking it aloud and as Leofwine sifted the words he finally realised what was being implied.

  “We suffer with our people, as the King does. We don’t take what is not ours or demand that we’re fed by the farmers at their expense. We all work for our food and our health. I’d suggest it’s a lesson you might benefit from. You’re welcome to join us for a meal, but the portions will be slight. The weather is yet too cold to know when we’ll have our early harvest.”

  Eadric stood abruptly. “There is no need, but my thanks for your offer. I’ve not travelled far today, and I’d not want to ‘take from your people’ as you say. Good day to you, my Lord, and I look forward to seeing you and your sons and wife at the wedding – whenever it may be.”

  With a curt nod to Ǽthelflaed, Eadric swept from the room, leaving in his wake confusion and anger in equal measure. Leofwine wandered to the doorway Eadric purposely left open behind him, allowing the chilly wind to penetrate deep within the room, and watched him mount his huge black horse and turn back towards the open road. He travelled with only four other warriors and a handful of squires, his arrogance in his superiority showing even in his small war band. Leofwine considered what would happen if they were ever attacked for there were too few to mount a meaningful counter-attack, and the thought did not disappoint him.

  At the gate, Eadric stopped his horse and wheeled it around to face Leofwine. He raised his hand in a gesture of farewell and kicked his horse to a canter. The beast lurched forwards, and the echo of Eadric’s loud laughter could be heard ringing through the chilly air.

  Leofwine called his men to shut the gate and stomped back inside to the warmth of the fire, left partially smoking in the breeze from the open doorway. He closed the door with care and instantly Ǽthelflaed was at his side.

  “What was all that about?”

  “I think that was a message from the King that I need to be a little more compliant with his wishes. That man Eadric, he’s dangerous.”

  “Why did he ask about the boys, and about Ealdgyth?”

  “He was just making a very pointed comment that he thinks he’s to marry into royalty, nothing more. Don’t worry.”

  “I’ll not worry when you don’t worry. Until then, I suggest you remember that we’re a partnership. You might be the ealdorman, don’t interrupt me.”

  He’d opened his mouth to speak but shut it again.

  “But I am your wife and your representative when you are serving the King. If I could be the ealdorwoman, then I would be.” She grabbed his arm as she spoke, gripping it tightly. “I may not wield a sword, but I have my powers and skills. Do you wish you’d married into the King’s family?”

  Her voice shook slightly as she spoke and while he meant to respond angrily, he instead, closed the gap between them and lowered his head so that he could kiss her angry red lips. The kiss was brief but passionate.

  “No, I don’t wish I’d married into the King’s family. I married you, and I’m happy and content.”

  “Only happy and content,” she said, a slight smile on her worry-etched face.

  “You could maybe make me more than happy and content,” he whispered against her lips, and she laughed a sweet girlish chuckle.

  “I could, yes, I suppose. But I will not. I carry your child within me already, and I think that might be all the proof you’re going to get today of my love for you. We’ve more important things to do.”

  He groaned at the reminder that he had responsibilities and a household to run, but he stole another kiss before Northman could announce loudly that really it was disgusting when old people kissed. Leofwine cuffed the boy around the head good-naturedly and sent him outside to train with the men on the hard packed surface that now surrounded his home. The mud ruts were frozen into place and precarious if you didn’t look where you were going.

  He ran happily to the task, and Leofwine pensively watched him go. Eadric’s interest in the boys, unwelcome as it was, opened up a possibility regarding one of their futures that he’d not considered before. It was just a pity that he was starting to detest the man and could not imagine sending one of his sons into his domain, even if he was to rise in the King’s confidences, as he intimated he would.

  1006 – Part 2

  Leofwine attended the King at his Witan, as demanded. He found him short-tempered and quick to anger from the moment he entered the royal house at Enham.

  The King airily gave the churchmen permission to hold their own meeting and to discuss who would replace the dead Archbishop Ælfric of Canterbury. As soon as the men of God had retired to their counsel, the King began a long monologue on the state of his land and the state of his ealdormen.

  The only kind words he had to speak regarded Archbishop Ælfric who’d bequeathed him his best ship and sailing equipment, complete with sixty helmets and sixty coats of mail. Leofwine was astounded at the generosity of the Archbishop before he remembered that on his own death, he would also have a ship and its complement to pass on to someone. If he didn’t have children, the King would be the most obvious choice.

  “My Lords and Gentlemen,” the King began, his tone caustic, his sarcasm evident, “it’s come to my attention that there are those amongst you who work against me; those who don’t like my policies, and instead of coming to me with their disillusionment, work to undermine my reputation. I’ve decided that it’s time to act. As I was punished last year by God with the death of my beloved son Ecgberht, I’ve decided that in this case, it’s the sons who will be punished for their fathers’ sins.”

  Leofwine winced at the anger in the King’s voice. It was barely contained, and although Leofwine could appreciate the King’s grief at the death of the boy and how it might have made him lash out at those who displeased him, he greatly feared what he was going to say next.

  “Ealdorman Ælfhelm of Northumbria is to be deprived of all his lands that belong to me, and his sons will, on my wishes, be blinded.”

  There were audible gasps of shock from those at the Witan and Leofwine found himself on his feet before he could stop himself. He needed to protest. He knew what it was like to live without sight. He couldn’t let others suffer the same fate.

  “Please sit, Ealdorman Leofwine. I don’t wish to hear your sniffling attempt at diffusing the situation, and any appeals to my better nature will fail. So please sit!” The King’s voice was low and even, deadly in its delivery.

  Leofwine sank into his chair, looking around in disgust at those who cheered the King’s words. He also hastily sought out Ælfhelm and wasn’t surprised to discover he was not in attendance.

  “As you will all no doubt realise, none of the men I speak of are here to have judgment passed on them. Instead, I’ll reward whosoever can carry out my wishes. All I ask is that you act in my name, and carry out only my wishes, nothing further. Ælfhelm should be brought to me, to stand trial for his treason, and his sons should be brought here as well. I wish to see the effects of their punishment on them.”

  A few of the young men who were royal officials were talking excitedly amongst themselves, but it was Eadric who stood abruptly at the King’s words and strode from the hall in a jaunty style. The King smiled tightly as he saw him leave.
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br />   “Ah, I see there are some who realise that my actions are not to be debated. I only wish there were more of you who would act as Eadric does.”

  There was a muffled throb of conversation as the impact of his words was felt, and Leofwine noted a few other men rush from the Witan. As his eyes swept across the now sporadically empty seats, his eyes came to rest on Athelstan, sitting tall and erect, his face a perfect mask hiding all his emotions. Belatedly Leofwine noticed the space next to him, where in the past Ecgberht would have sat. He wondered why Edmund, the next oldest brother, did not sit there, and then he turned away in shock. Of course, the King must have decreed that his place not be taken.

  All the King’s sons sat quietly, eyes tightly forwards and focused on their father. They must have been instructed on how they should act.

  “And Wulfric,” the King’s voice was low, “do not think for a moment that your association with Ælfhelm has gone unnoticed. You’re to be deprived of all your lands and you’ll never step foot inside this Witan again, now be gone.”

  Wulfgeat, from his seat behind Leofwine, looked up in shock at his King and Leofwine felt instant pity for him. He’d been the only one brave enough to face his King, and while he might be escaping with his life for his troubles, he would have no means to support himself.

  “My Lord …” he began, stuttering in shock as he slowly stood to face his King, his face graven with fear and worry.

  “Don’t gainsay me, Wulfgeat. Be gone before I change my mind and blind you too, or worse – and don’t be thinking of joining Swein of Denmark and his men either. If I hear that you’ve betrayed me not once but twice, I’ll have you killed wherever you are – and don’t think I won’t.”

  Ǽthelred held the gaze of Wulfgeat for a long, slow heartbeat and then Wulfgeat clattered noisily from the palace hall, his feet sounding loudly in the sudden silence of the room.