Viking Enemy

by M J Porter

  Some here called themselves Powysian’s and some English, and the King of Powys and the Ealdorman of Mercia had allowed the situation to remain as it was. There was little point in making an English man look to the Powys King if he didn’t want to, and vice versa the same situation applied. There was no point stirring up trouble with the unruly border dwellers. They really were a law unto themselves.

  “Ealdorman Leofwine,” King Llewelyn spoke first, “it’s good to finally put a face to the name.”

  “Indeed, it is. But before we proceed, how should I address you?”

  The Welsh King spoke his language without hesitation and Leofwine was again relieved. He knew that the Ancient Britons had their own tongue they spoke, but Llewelyn was proficient in his tongue.

  “Just Llewelyn, Leofwine – that will suffice while we’re away from the court. I suppose that if we ever meet under more formal circumstances, we must revert to King and Lord, but for now, my name is adequate, as I hope yours is?”

  “Of course, you honour me, and you have my thanks.”

  “But now to business; it’s not the nicest summer day and I fear rain will be falling on us soon, and so let us discuss what we need to consider and then I, at least, can return home.” He spoke quickly and concisely, and Leofwine warmed to the man even further.

  “As no doubt you’re aware, my King finds himself under attack from the King of Denmark. I know that you too suffer from some attacks from the lands of the Irish, and I wished to speak to you about your intentions regarding the attacks.”

  The King of Powys raised an eyebrow at him, clearly admiring his forthrightness. “If you ask if we intend to attack them, then I can tell you that I don’t intend to. They’re an annoyance, but they’re like smoke and air: one moment before me and the next, vanished. The lands around here are riddled with caves and valleys where it’s easy to hide. Even my own people don’t know the full extent of the places they inhabit, but it makes it impractical for me to attack. As such, my intentions are to drive them from my land when they attack and, regrettably, that does mean they’re herded onto your own lands if they make it this far.”

  “And you wouldn’t be willing to redirect them?” Leofwine asked.

  “No, not if it puts the lives of my own warriors and people at risk. I just wish them gone. I don’t care where.”

  “And would you be happy if we extended the same courtesy to you?”

  Llewelyn laughed joyfully,

  “I’d not be the happiest, I admit, but again we both have no loyalties to the other and so, yes, I’d accept it. But we’d do our best to get them back on your side of the border.”

  Leofwine smirked at the man’s honesty.

  “Would it, perhaps, be best to have my men stationed here?”

  “Probably, but then you’ve many more warriors than me,” Llewelyn indicated by pointing to the team of troops and squires who were busily setting up a camp on the Mercian side of the massive earthen rampart that ran as far as the eye could see. Leofwine had spent some time examining it in detail.

  It seemed such a simple device, built so long ago under the orders of the then Mercian King, Offa. The organisational skills it must have taken to accomplish, the men and women who must have laboured to dig so deeply into the muddy earth, spoke volumes as to how sophisticated the long dead King’s administration must have been. And it was successful too. It did what it was supposed to do. Even now, Llewelyn and his men eyed it with distrust and didn’t attempt to bring their horses too close to it.

  “And if they cross into your land, what would you have my men do?” Leofwine probed further, watching expressions flit across Llewelyn’s face as he either chose his words with care or decided on an actual answer. The men behind him stirred on their horses as his silence dragged on, and Leofwine noticed that a small wind had picked up and was scattering the piles of detritus being dredged up from the bottom of the dyke. Still, he waited patiently, as he would for his own King. Llewelyn might not be his king, but he deserved respect nonetheless.

  Finally, Llewelyn sighed deeply, “Well, I think you’ve the right of it after all. I will station some of my own men near to here as lookouts for any raiders who may come our way. It would be counter-productive if your men banished them from your lands, and the buggers simply made merry on my own. And now that is settled, I must ask you for news of this Swein of Denmark and why he desires your lands, and you specifically, as much as he does.”

  Leofwine felt a faint flush envelop his face. He’d not expected to be questioned by the man, but felt that he should offer an explanation. He could feel Oscetel’s eyes on him, and he wondered what he thought. Did he remember the state that Leofwine had returned home in from the Outer Isles? He’d surely heard the stories about the event. Horic, while he didn’t enjoy recounting his tale of how he’d saved Leofwine and Olaf that night, could be called upon to offer his own version of events if he was drunk enough. For once, Leofwine was pleased that Horic and Wulfstan were absent; it would allow him to speak of his injury in the way that he wanted to, without interruptions and recriminations.

  Turning back to Llewelyn he spoke, “I’m afraid the personal enmity between Swein and I stems from my being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and of course, my personal involvement with my King, Æthelred. When I escaped from the burning hall where Swein was attempting to slay Olaf, I set in motion a chain of events that I’ve not yet been able to counter.

  “Swein of Denmark holds me responsible for Olaf’s wealth, which he negotiated without consulting Swein, although he’d also been a part of the raiding party. Swein wished to stop Olaf from ever reaching Norway, but he was unable to, and Olaf became the king of lands that he thought of as his own, and which he still either desires or lays claim to. I’m unsure whether he now counts himself as King or not of Norway. Events move too fast for me to keep track.

  “As to his hatred of the King, that has a similar basis as it was the King who negotiated with Olaf of Norway. As to why he wishes to claim our lands, I think wealth holds the key to that. I know little of the way the Northern kings tax and govern their people, but my man Horic, from the lands of the north, has alluded enough to the state of affairs there that I’ve reached my own conclusions. England is rich in land, portable wealth, people and good farming land; it’s surrounded on almost all sides by exposed coastal areas and we are, believe it or not …” and here Leofwine felt a self-depreciating smile tug at his tight face, “… quite peaceful in our intentions.”

  Llewelyn had listened attentively as he spoke, nodding his head with understanding and smiling along with Leofwine’s final comment.

  “However peaceful you are, my Lord Leofwine …” the use of his title alerting him that the words Llewelyn would now speak were serious in their intent, “… I can assure you that those warriors you have are well skilled and well armed. We do not enjoy engaging with you English but sometimes we must. You’re not better at combat than us, but you are different. I always think the raiders attack in a similar way to my own people. Perhaps that’s why we are so much more successful at driving them off.”

  Leofwine let the sting of his remarks ease before he spoke.

  “We all have our own ways, I suppose. It’s just a matter of learning how to defeat them. You and your countrymen have a habit of melting away into the mists and caves of your homeland, whereas mine have a habit of standing and fighting. While the raiders, well, they love nothing more than to retreat to their vessels and sail for home. I wonder who of us all will ultimately be successful.”

  Now Llewelyn shot Leofwine a stern look at his neat summing up of affairs and let the comments float away in the summer breeze.

  “All I can say is that I don’t envy you and your King the constant bombardment. But that is all for now. I’ll return home, and I hope that we have little contact over the coming months. However, I assume I can always be assured that any messengers I send will be safe in your lands and that they will find you either in Lichfield or
at one of the King’s palaces.”

  “Of course, Llewelyn, and you have my thanks for agreeing to meet with me in person.”

  “In person is always best. Messengers can sometimes cause more problems. Good day to you, and Leofwine … good luck. And one more thing: keep that oaf of a man Eadric away from my borders; he’s none of your charm and a mouth that can only utter depravities. I’ll not treat with him as I do with you.”

  As Leofwine was bowing to acknowledge the words the King spoke, he felt the thud of horse’s hooves. Leofwine raised his head and watched him with interest. Perhaps they had more in common than he had at first realised. He wondered if there was a way he could exploit the King of Powys’ hatred of Eadric to his advantage.

  “Well, my Lord,” Oscetel called loudly, breaking Leofwine’s train of thoughts, “what do you think of him, and do you think your trip was worth all the trouble?”

  Oscetel’s face held genuine interest and Leofwine shrugged an answer. “He seems to be a man of honour, but that is much to say after only a brief conversation. I just hope he holds true to his words regarding the raiders. Now, we must discuss whom we’ll trust to stand a guard here and not irritate the man. His agreement was, I think, more hard-won than that brief exchange indicates. He’s clearly thought long and hard about the raiders and Eadric. I’m curious as to who he currently counts as his greater enemy.”

  “I’d think Eadric, my Lord. There have been comments from the men that you might not be aware of. The closer we come to his alleged ancestral lands, the greater the hatred of him seems to become. He’s not a good ally for the King, as you’ve implied before. But, he is beguiling to those he wishes to gain from.”

  “You tell me little I hadn’t already suspected, but you have my thanks all the same. Everywhere I turn there seems to be an enemy. It tires me Oscetel. And then it angers me …”

  “And then your wife takes you to bed and calms you down,” Oscetel interjected.

  “Yes, she’s certainly a calming force. But what do you think?”

  “I think you’re correct in your summing up of England and yourself in particular. The King is not a bad king, but his judgement can be poor. He surrounds himself with men who don’t have this country’s best interests at heart. He whines and moans when planned actions don’t go as he’d hoped.”

  “He has active and influential churchmen at his side; Wulfstan of London and York is a man who gains respect wherever he goes, and his words are always listened to carefully. He has sons and daughters aplenty and yet he doesn’t use the boys as the tools they could be, and then he stirs up more trouble by marrying again and having more sons. It’ll not end well, my Lord, and it is all in his remit to prevent and yet he doesn’t. Æthelred is his own worst enemy and you, my Lord, it pains me to say, are his tool – and a misused one at that.”

  Leofwine looked anywhere but at Oscetel as he absorbed the words he spoke. There was little new in his summation of past events, and he was certainly not the first person to tell him the King saw him as only someone to manipulate. At least he’d been a little more sensitive in the vocalisation of his thoughts than Eadric, but still it stung.

  Of all the King’s ealdormen, he was the only one who worked for his King and with the people paramount in his thoughts, and it did him little good. The King may well no longer see him as an invalid and may have made him Ealdorman of Mercia, but it was an uncomfortable position to be in. Mercia was safe from attack, mostly, with little chance for great battles that would reach his King’s ears, and he felt that it robbed him of the opportunity to excel for his King while at the same time keeping him too busy to attend the King as often as he’d like.

  Annoyance warring with satisfaction over his agreement with Llewelyn, Leofwine turned his mind to more pressing matters. Did he want his lands overrun just so the King would respect him a little more? It was a sobering thought.

  1006 – Part 6

  Leofwine jumped from the back of his horse, anger infusing his every footstep over the dry summer grass that surrounded his home in Lichfield. He’d recognised the horses that milled around his home the moment he’d been able to see them, and his joy at being home had quickly turned to fury. What was Eadric doing in Lichfield?

  As he strode purposefully through the open front door, he heard a murmur of voices, some raised more angrily than others, and he was greeted with the sight of his wife, clearly roused from an afternoon slumber with her new child, arguing forcibly with an insolent-looking Eadric. He lay sprawled across the wooden benches close to the fire.

  Ǽthelflaed’s face was flushed with annoyance while Eadric drawled responses to her sharp questions. Behind him, he heard the welcome footsteps of Oscetel and noticed belatedly that Wulfstan was in attendance on his wife.

  “Eadric,” he called loudly. Both Eadric and Ǽthelflaed had been oblivious to his entrance for all that it had not been quiet. “What brings you to disturb my wife?”

  Eadric fastened Leofwine with an annoyed glance, apparently unhappy that he’d returned to interrupt whatever it was he was doing.

  “My Lord Leofwine, it’s nothing for you or your wife to worry about. Just a little matter for the King,” he drawled, looking anywhere but at Leofwine.

  “And if it’s such a little matter, why have you roused my wife from her birthing bed?”

  “It’s not I who has forced her to meet with me. You must ask that old fool Wulfstan if you want answers.”

  Wulfstan was working hard to contain his rage where he stood behind Ǽthelflaed, and Leofwine felt a moment of pity for his old friend. It was one thing to know you were getting old, but quite another to have it so publicly shouted aloud.

  “Well, I’m here now so perhaps, Eadric, you would do well to inform me of your intentions!” Leofwine spat, his annoyance growing with every breath he was forced to take in Eadric’s presence.

  “It was merely something the King suggested, and I thought I should come and see if it met with your approval.”

  Reining in his anger at the news that this was another sign of the King meddling in his affairs, Leofwine indicated that Eadric should continue.

  “The King and I were discussing your ever-expanding family, and the King happened to mention that perhaps one of your sons should become my squire. When I mentioned to Wulfstan there, that I had come to collect the boy, he was most unhappy about the arrangements.”

  Leofwine bit back the bile that had formed in his mouth, “And you would expect him to just hand over my son at your words?”

  “Well, they are not my words, they come from the King.”

  “Why? Has the King ordered that my son becomes your squire?”

  “Well, not exactly, I suppose it might not have been an order. But certainly, I didn’t think that the plan wouldn’t meet with your approval. Now quick, get the boy packed. I have other matters to attend to.”

  Taking a calming breath and grateful that Wulfstan saw to Ǽthelflaed’s care by sitting her in a comfortable chair as far from Eadric as it was possible to be, he considered his response.

  “Eadric, if you had the intention of taking my son as your squire, then really you should have communicated the news to me. There is much to discuss before I could let him leave with you.”

  Eadric’s hooded eyes turned to glare at Leofwine before settling on the suddenly small shape of Northman, who sat huddled next to his mother, his face a mask of misery.

  “It’s an honour for the boy. You shouldn’t stand in the way of his advancement. Even if you don’t seek honours for yourself, I’d have thought you’d be pleased that a man such as I, such a close confidant of the King, would wish to take in one of your runts.”

  “I’ve not said it’s not an honour, nor have I said it is. What concerns me is your presumptuous manner of laying claim to him without consulting me.”

  “My Lord, I sent a messenger to you when you were on the Borders. He informs me that you didn’t let him give you the entire message.”

  “H
e didn’t carry a message about my son, and you well know it.” Leofwine could feel his words coming faster and faster as his anger grew at the audacity of the man. “And even if he had, I’ve been away, in service to the King. How would I have had time to return home and discuss the situation with both my son and my wife?”

  “Leofwine, you’re the master here; your family should do as you say. What is all this about discussions?”

  “I’m master here, thank you Eadric, you are correct. However, my children and my wife are allowed their opinions. I’d hope that garnering the view of others was something that you pursued in your house.”

  Eadric laughed a little at the words. “Then you are very mistaken. I’m the master of my house, and my wife, when she is my wife, will do as she is bid. As will my children. Now is the boy to come with me or not?”

  “No, he’s not. He’s too young and your arrival too soon. I’m happy to converse further about him becoming a squire in your household, but nothing more. And now, as you’re clearly busy with other business, I suggest you leave. I’ll discuss this at the next Witan. Good day, Eadric.”

  Leofwine moved backward to stand beside the open door, indicating that Eadric should step through it. Eadric took his time rising from his chair and with a last, insultingly languorous, appraisal of Ǽthelflaed, he walked past Leofwine.

  “You’ll regret this, my Lord, I assure you of that,” he muttered darkly as Leofwine slammed the door shut on his departing back and then fought for composure. Silence reverberated around the large hall, the only noises coming from where Eadric could be heard shouting commands at his men to “bloody hurry up” and “no, the boy wasn’t joining us”. Only when the sounds of the horses’ hooves over the hard-packed earth had faded to nothingness did Leofwine move, and then it was to both crush his wife and his son in his embrace. Ǽthelflaed shook in his arms and Northman had dirty tears streaking his face.