by M J Porter
Chapter 11
AD1041
Leofric
Once more Leofric would cross the Narrow Sea on his king’s orders. A royal messenger had been sent on ahead, carrying letters from the king, addressed to Lord Edward. Still, Leofric knew that he was being sent to truly convince Edward of Harthacnut’s good intentions toward him.
Before Leofric had travelled to Sandwich, he’d taken the time to return to Lady Emma, unsure whether she’d known the king’s intentions or not.
“I see you come for my help once more,” Lady Emma had chuckled at his approach, and Leofric’s heart had sunk. Clearly, Lady Emma hadn’t been informed. Why, after all, would her son inform her that her other son was soon to return to England?
“My Lady Emma, I assume from your greeting that you’re unaware of the king’s intention to have me travel to Normandy and bring back Lord Edward.”
All joviality drained from Lady Emma’s face at the words, and Leofric was forced to leap to prevent her from falling in shock.
“My Lady,” Leofric called, hoping to recall her to her senses without seeking the aid of any others.
“It’s alright, Lord Leofric, I was simply surprised. I’m well now,” Lady Emma had stood on her two feet as steadily as she could, and yet Leofric had watched her anxiously.
She’d hiccupped with laughter.
“I’d not expected Harthacnut to understand the necessity quite so quickly. Are you to travel to Normandy?”
“Yes, the king has given me command of the expedition. Lord Ælfgar will ensure all is well in my absence.”
“So, the king both rewards and punishes you, all at the same time. He’s become adept at that, as his father was, before him.”
“Yes, he has. Tell me, what should I expect from Lord Edward?”
“Lord Leofric, I can’t answer that. My son is all but a stranger. We send letters, or rather we once did. He’s not trusted me since his brother’s death. I would caution you not to mention that you even know me.”
“I hardly think that possible. I’m sure that even in Normandy, they’re aware of events in England. Even as muddled as everything has been since your brother’s death.”
“Then, yes, you’re probably correct. I wasn’t welcome in Normandy, even when King Harald bid me leave England. Lord Edward ignored all of my entreaties for us to meet. My nephew’s son is too young to command any respect from his nobility, even without the stain of his bastardy. The king is sending you to a place that won’t welcome the interference of the English and Danish King, and moreover, is unsettled after the death of Duke Robert.”
“My nephew’s son is too young to rule, and others too keen to take what they shouldn’t. I’m not even sure that Lord Edward remains in Normandy. He may have sought the aid of his nephew, in the Vexin, or even of his sister, in Bolougne. You might be better to start searching there or even to visit Countess Godgifu’s lands in Buckinghamshire. I’m sure they’ll know more than even I do.”
Leofric had found Lady Emma’s words distressing, even if she seemed nonchalant. She’d spoken about her family as though they were all strangers to her. But then, perhaps they were. After all, as she’d said, she’d gone to Bruges, sought the aid of Count Baldwin of Flanders, and not her own children, when King Harald had ordered her banished from England.
“Then, I thank you for your advice.”
Leofric had turned as though to leave, but Lady Emma had called him back.
“Stay, just a moment longer,” she’d asked, surprising Leofric once more with her wistful tone. “So few people seek me out. It’s good to speak with someone who’s not my servant.”
“Are people really so fearful of being seen with you?” It had surprised Leofric, perhaps more than it should. Lady Emma had been at the hub of the web of patronage that had existed in the English court during her marriage to Æthelred and Cnut. To see her so abandoned since her return to England, was unsettling. It was a real sign that the world had turned full circle and those who’d dominated his youth were no longer influential.
“Yes, is the simple answer. Harthacnut can be a cruel man. You and Earl Godwine are protected by your position. Not everyone has such to keep them safe from a vengeful king.”
“Is that how you survive?”
Sadness had flickered in Lady Emma’s eyes.
“I suppose so. I’m his mother, and that garners me some protection, but never enough that I would dare meddle, or be seen too often in any particular person’s company. I would not risk it.”
“But you speak with me?”
“Well yes, Lord Leofric, I do, but you’ve always managed to straddle the divide between two warring parties. You have your oaths and your loyalty to the crown of England to keep you safe. I don’t benefit in quite the same way.”
Leofric had inclined his head.
“I’ll resolve to meet with you more often in the future, and not to demand answers to unsolvable problems, but rather, just to talk, about the past, and maybe the here and now.”
Lady Emma’s face had lifted in a small smile.
“I should like that,” she’d confirmed, but then her smile had dropped away. “Now, go and find my son. It will be interesting to have two sons in England at the same time. That’s never happened before.” While she’d tried to make light of the prospect, Leofric hadn’t been blind to her fear.
It seemed neither of them was ever two old to face their worries.
While Leofric made his way to Sandwich, to take a ship to Normandy, he had Otryggr ride to Countess Godgifu’s estates in Buckinghamshire. He hoped they might know the whereabouts of Lord Edward.
When Otryggr returned, as they waited for the tide to turn, Leofric found the wait to have been a good idea.
“The steward believes that Lord Edward is visiting Countess Godgifu, in Bolougne. Apparently, Lord Edward has struck up a friendship with his younger nephew, Ralph. The two are without a kingdom to command, unlike the older nephew, who rules in place of his father.”
“Then we’ll travel to Bolougne,” Leofric announced to his waiting ship, and the ship’s captain had the good grace to look pleased with the prospect. In contrast, he’d been scowling ever since Leofric had told him they’d travel to Normandy.
“There’s a fine market in Bolougne and none of the bloody fighting,” the ship’s captain confirmed, setting to his tasks with more readiness than before.
“Then I’m pleased that you’re pleased,” Leofric muttered under his breath, his mind heavy with the best way of approaching Lord Edward.
How would he even start such a conversation?
Not that Leofric had long to determine the best approach. The ship journey took less than a day, the wind driving the ship onwards, while the shipmen lounged on their war chests. By nightfall, Leofric had announced himself in Bolougne as the King of England’s ambassador and ensured many people knew of his intention to peacefully seek out Lord Edward.
With the sunrise, came a messenger, smartly dressed and deferential in his comportment, the sheen of cleanliness emanating from him. It made Leofric feel dirty even though he’d only been on his ship for one day.
“My Lord, Earl Leofric, I’ve been sent by Countess Godgifu. She would welcome you in the reeve’s hall this afternoon.”
“Please thank Countess Godgifu and inform her I’ll attend.”
Leofric still had no clear idea in his mind of how he would go about making his request. Much would depend on how he was received. While Lady Emma had told him to make no reference to his friendship with her, if it could be called that, Leofric doubted that her son and daughter were ignorant of it.
If they were as perceptive as their mother, it was highly likely that they might have a good idea as to why Leofric even wished to speak with Lord Edward.
Leofric thought back, trying to remember if he recalled Countess Godgifu from her childhood. She would be younger than him, but not by more than a decade. She had been raised at King Æthelred’s court, before his ex
ile, and her own exile and marriage. When Cnut had become king, she’d been taken from England to Normandy. Leofric knew all this, and yet he still couldn’t place her in his memories. But then, much of that time was a riot of confusion in his mind.
His accurate recollections were of Swein’s death, and then Æthelred’s death and then the execution of his brother. Little else had seemed important, and certainly not the peripheral characters of the court.
The messenger returned, with a small force of armed warriors on horseback at what Leofric deemed to be the correct time. With a glance to Orkning, inviting him to come with him, Leofric mounted the horse that had been provided for him.
The ship’s captain watched him with curious eyes. Yet, the man could be relied upon, even if he had spent the majority of the morning bartering over a mound of smelly furs from the northern kingdoms. He was determined to take them back to England, despite Leofric’s protests.
Leofric knew the ship’s captain wouldn’t be happy until he got the best deal possible. Leofric had resigned himself to standing in the prow for the entire journey back to Sandwich. Hopefully, the captain’s bartering would take less time than the negotiations he was about to begin, but he was far from convinced. The captain was a stubborn old man. He had to have been to have survived for so many years.
The ride through Bolougne showed Leofric a busy coastal settlement, where the smell of fish and seawater never seemed to be far away. Yet, Bolougne also seemed prosperous, and Leofric was strongly reminded of Sandwich. Both harbours profited from trade with each other.
The reeve’s hall materialised in front of Leofric. It was just on the outskirts of the settlement. Perhaps it was as far away from the smell of the sea as it was possible to go while still having a full view of the harbour and the ships that came and we. Leofric didn’t miss, as he dismounted in the forecourt, that there was a good selection of valuable horses in the stables. Countess Godgifu had come to Bolougne, but not alone.
The messenger escorted Leofric and Orkning into the great hall, built of blackened wood, but in good condition, with smoke billowing from hidden smoke holes into the cloudy sky above them. While the two door wardens pulled the door wide, Leofric caught Orkning’s eye, and the nod he received in reply was the reassurance he needed that all really did seem to be as it appeared.
There might be good horses in the stables, but what warriors there were numbered only about twenty. All seemed interested in what was happening, rather than concerned.
Inside the hall, several tables had been laid out. Around one of them sat a small party of men and women, and Leofric’s eyes were drawn to the woman. He gasped in shock, a smirk touching his face when the woman met his eyes squarely, standing to greet him.
“Lord Leofric, I take it? I need not ask you then if I look like my Lady Mother.”
Leofric shook his head, an apology forming on his lips.
“There’s no need. I’ve been told it many times in my life, and while I might prefer not to be told I resemble my mother, there’s really no denying it.”
“Countess Godgifu, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Leofric began, but she swept his formal opening aside, and instead turned to those who escorted her.
“Come, sit with us. This here is Lord Edward, I imagine you see the resemblance in him as well.”
Leofric turned to meet the same eyes that had once looked at him from Lord Alfred’s face. They resembled not Lady Emma but rather King Æthelred. He gasped once more, a flood of unexpected emotions threatening his façade of courtliness.
“I’ve been told many times that I share the look of my father, and of course, my brother. It’s good to finally meet you,” Lord Edward was somewhat shorter than Leofric, as he stood to offer him the warm clasp of one warrior to another. However, it was like seeing a double of a man he’d been forced to bury.
“I confirm that both are correct. You do look like Lord Alfred and King Æthelred. I almost wish I didn’t know how much you resembled your brother, but I’m pleased that I came to know him, even if only for a short amount of time.”
The mood was instantly sombre, and Leofric cursed his foolish words when Countess Godgifu glanced at him, her lower lip trembling.
“We mourn our brother, but we have you to thank for not allowing him to die alone and abandoned. We can never repay you for such kindness.” With a visible effort, Countess Godgifu tried to dismiss the sombre mood that had infected them.
“And this, as I’m sure you can tell, is my son, my second son, Ralph. Walter remains in Vexin, with his youngest brother, Fulk, to bolster him.”
Leofric glanced at the young man, who also stood and bowed quickly, struck by just how alike his grandfather he looked.
“I’m pleased to meet you, Ralph. I knew your grandfather well, and I still know your grandmother.” Ralph grinned, no hint of courtly pretensions about the youth, and Leofric felt the tension ease from his shoulders. This meeting could have gone very poorly, but it seemed they were prepared to be cordial. Whether they would remain so when Leofric explained his real purpose remained to be seen.
Ralph reminded Leofric of the rest of Æthelred’s children, and it was easy to see the family likeness between Ralph and Lord Edward. They shared the same light hair and high forehead as King Æthelred, and Leofric could almost imagine it was over twenty years ago, and he sat watching the king and his older sons converse. It was a strange experience.
But there the similarities ended, for Ralph had the physique of a warrior, and Lord Edward didn’t. It seemed Lord Edward had never lifted a sword, shield or seax in anything other than practice.
The complete opposite of the war-minded Harthacnut, Leofric held out the hope that if Harthacnut did perish, England would be plunged in a peaceful reign under Lord Edward.
“How is my Lady Mother?” It was Countess Godgifu who asked. Whether it was just to be polite or through genuine interest, Leofric was pleased that they needn’t try and ignore Lady Emma.
“She’s returned to England, but under reduced circumstances, and little regarded by King Harthacnut.”
The news seemed to worry Countess Godgifu, a frown forming, whereas Lord Edward showed no emotion on his blank face.
“And what is it that King Harthacnut wants with his half-brother and sister?” It was again Countess Godgifu who spoke, and Leofric risked a glance toward Lord Edward. Was he so unused to politics that he couldn’t even hold this conversation without his sister?
Leofric knew better than to make a snap decision.
“The king, as you know, has yet to marry. There is some unease about what would happen in the event of his sudden death. The king needs an heir.”
“And so, he thinks to entice my brother back to England?” Now incredulity touched Countess Godgifu’s voice, the words threaded with outrage.
“My Lady, he does, yes. Lord Edward and yourself are the only family that King Harthacnut has left.”
Countess Godgifu’s blazing eyes burned into Leofric’s, and he felt uncomfortable under her intense scrutiny.
“And he sends you because of your intervention on our brother’s behalf?”
“Again, you are correct.” Leofric thought of offering a more detailed explanation, but he refused to condescend. Countess Godgifu and her brother clearly had an understanding of events in England, for all few remembered the existence of King Æthelred’s youngest children.
“Peace,” Lord Edward spoke the words to his sister, a hand on her arm. “It’s not Lord Leofric’s fault that he speaks these words. He’s merely doing his king’s bidding. Let’s be grateful King Harthacnut was far-sighted enough not to send our mother.”
Countess Godgifu looked disgruntled, but subsided under her brother’s gaze, while young Ralph merely looked intrigued.
“Why does King Harthacnut not call on his cousins? I know Svein rules in Denmark, but what of Beorn.”
“The king is aware that King Harald and Beorn were allies, and of course, Beorn has no English blood at
all.”
“Neither does Harthacnut.” Countess Godgifu pointed out the obvious, but Leofric didn’t respond. It was true. Lady Emma was a Norman by birth, Harthacnut’s father, Danish. If being born English was at stake, then by rights it should have been Lord Edward who was king. But of course, Lord Edward was only King Cnut’s step-son, even if Harthacnut was at pains to overlook that fact.
Leofric wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting from Lord Edward, but it wasn’t this. He’d made little or no response, as though the request meant nothing to him, and of them all, it was only Countess Godgifu who seemed to have any opinion on the matter.
“What would the king give me if I returned to England?”
This was more like it.
“I’m unsure of his exact intentions. I know he would restore land to you, so that you could support yourself in the manner of the king’s heir, and that he’d involve you in the running of the country. But I’m not sure to what extent. The king relies heavily on his Danish allies for support, those he brought from Denmark with him, especially Lord Otto.”
“Then he bypasses his earls?” Countess Godgifu asked the question with outrage. She was not ignorant of the role of the witan, something Harthacnut could on occasion be accused of doing as it didn’t exist in Denmark.
“He doesn’t bypass his earls, but I suppose it would be true to say that he trusts none of us, not wholly.”
“Not even you, Lord Leofric?” Countess Godgifu taunted him, but he allowed it.
“Not even me. I was, after all, a supporter of King Harald, and I would never deny it.”
“And yet you were a close ally of King Cnut? Why would you do such a thing?” Leofric hadn’t expected to be asked such a straight question, and at his side, he felt Orkning stiffen in surprise.
Leofric looked into the six eyes and made his decision.