The Promises of a King, page 10
* * *
After Macsen had left to take the news back to the Welsh king, Harold walked over to stand beside Aelfgar, who was filling his tankard from a jug on a nearby table.
‘I take it you are not happy with the agreement,’ he said, filling his own tankard.
‘It is not the agreement I found distasteful,’ said Aelfgar, ‘but the way I was treated as if I was not there.’
‘It was nothing personal,’ said Harold, ‘it was just important that we stopped Gruffydd without resorting to warfare.’
‘Why, did you not say there would be rivers of blood?’
‘I said what needed to be said,’ replied Harold. ‘All I need to do now is convince the king.’
Aelfgar turned to stare at Harold.
‘The king does not know?’
‘How could he? I acted in the moment, but when I tell him what we gained, I am sure he will be agreeable. It also allows us to reunite our earls in preparation for what Gruffydd does next.’
‘So what about me?’
‘You have to remember that it was you that caused all this in the first place,’ said Harold, ‘but nevertheless, I think I can get your banishment overturned.’
‘How?’
‘By telling the king you were instrumental in negotiating this peace.’
‘You would do that?’
‘I would. Your father is not in the best of health, and when he dies, you will be the next Earl of Mercia. We need you back in England.’
‘And what about in the meantime? Am I to be locked away like a forgotten blade?’
‘On the contrary, I am confident I can get you reinstated as the Earl of East Anglia. I know it is not what you want, but I think that if you want to come back into the fold, it is the best you can expect.’
‘I have no other choice, do I?’ said Aelfgar.
‘You do not,’ said Harold. ‘Take the offer and come home, Aelfgar. England needs you.’
Aelfgar downed the contents of his tankard once again before regarding Harold.
‘You drive a hard bargain, Harold Godwinson,’ he said, ‘but I have seen enough killing to last a lifetime. You have a deal.’
Chapter Eleven
Bosham Harbour, 11 Months Later
Edyth Swanneck stood on the wharf, watching as her husband walked down the gangplank. He had been away for many months, but, at last, her prayers had been answered, and he had arrived safely home. Despite wanting to run and embrace him as soon as his feet hit the boards of the quay, she held herself back, knowing that with so many eyes watching, she risked admonishment. Impatiently, she watched as Harold greeted the harbour master and his waiting officers, exchanging pleasantries and sharing the relief of getting home after such a long journey.
It had been almost a year since Harold had brokered peace between King Edward and Gruffydd of Wales, and though there had been a few incidents, notably when the new Bishop of Hereford had gotten himself killed at Glastonbury by thinking he could lead a holy crusade against Gruffydd, the peace had largely held.
When Harold had returned from Hereford, she had hoped to spend some time with him, but those hopes were quickly dashed when King Edward resurrected his command for Harold to travel to Hungary with the aim of bringing back Edward Ætheling, the proposed new heir to the throne. Now, after many months away, Harold was finally back, and Edyth knew that at last, her family would once again be together.
Harold finished talking, and when he turned to walk towards her, Edyth could contain herself no longer, running forward to embrace her husband.
‘Whoa,’ laughed Harold, as she threw herself into the embrace, ‘hold yourself, woman, I have not risked death in foreign lands only to be crushed by my wife upon my return.’
Edyth lifted her hands to hold his head still while she kissed him full on the lips.
‘Oh Harold,’ she said, ‘I have missed you so much.’
‘And I, you,’ said Harold. ‘Where are the children?’
‘They are waiting at the house.’
‘Why did you not bring them with you?’
‘Because I wanted just a few moments of peace between us before the mayhem the children will undoubtedly bring.’
‘Aye, that they will,’ laughed Harold. ‘How have you fared these past few months?’
‘We have been fine,’ said Edyth. ‘Little Ulf was ill for a while with the ague, but he is well now. What about you, how went the journey?’
‘It was good,’ said Harold. ‘I have seen some interesting places and dealt with even stranger people, but overall it was very successful.’
‘So you found the Ætheling?’
‘Aye, we did. It took some persuading for him to come with us, but in the end, I think the Crown of England was too much a temptation.’
‘Is he with you?’ asked Edyth, looking over his shoulder.
‘He is,’ said Harold, ‘but in truth, we saw little of him on the return journey. He spent most of the time hidden away in his wagon on the land journey and, when it came time to board the ship in Flanders, insisted on one that had a cabin on deck.’
‘How very strange,’ said Edyth. ‘I wonder why he did that?’
‘Who knows?’ said Harold. ‘But you can judge for yourself tonight.’
‘Is he coming to our house?’
‘He is. I invited him to stay the night before he goes to London in the morning. Is that a problem?’
‘Of course not,’ said Edyth, ‘I will make the arrangements. Anyway, enough talk of weird foreigners, let me look at you. You have gotten thin these past few months – I need to fatten you up.’
‘In truth, I have missed the simpleness of our fare,’ said Harold, ‘and look forward to sharing a table with our family.’
‘Then lucky for you, I have arranged just such an evening. Come, let me take you home. It has been far too long a wait.’
* * *
Later that evening, Harold walked into the hall to be met with a chorus of shouts and greetings from his huscarls and staff. At the far end, his children gleefully chased each other with hand-carved wooden swords and maces, a gift from their father after his journey to Hungary.
Edyth followed him in, having spent the entire afternoon with her husband in their chambers. The table in the hall was laden with all sorts of game birds and vegetables, as well as a roast swan as a centrepiece.
Harold walked around the room, greeting each one of his huscarls individually before returning to sit at the head of the table alongside his wife. On his left, an empty chair indicated someone was still missing.
‘We need to wait until Edward arrives,’ said Edyth. ‘I have sent the steward with a gentle reminder – I hope that is acceptable.’
‘It is,’ said Harold. ‘What do you think of him?’
‘I only met him for a few moments,’ said Edyth, ‘but in truth, I am not impressed. He lacks the basic skills of social interaction, and his skin is as yellow as parchment. I believe he is sickening from something.’
‘Perhaps,’ said Harold, ‘but do not judge him on his manners, his country is far different from ours, and they do things differently there.’
‘That may be the case,’ said Edyth, ‘but there is no need for rudeness.’
‘Just be patient,’ said Harold. ‘I am sure he will soon adjust to our ways.’
‘My lord,’ said a voice, and Harold turned to see the steward standing beside him. ‘The gentleman sends his apologies,’ continued the steward, ‘and has requested that he dines alone in his quarters.’
‘Did he say why?’ asked Edyth.
‘He proclaims illness,’ said the steward, ‘but assures me that he will be fine after a good night’s rest.’
Edyth turned back to face her husband.
‘See what I mean?’
‘Let it go, Edyth,’ said Harold. ‘The man has travelled far, and anyway, after tomorrow, he will no longer be our problem.’ He picked up his goblet and got to his feet. ‘My lords,’ he announced, ‘my ladies, loyal friends. It is good to see you all again. The journey was long, with no little danger, but God has watched over my men and me, and saw fit to return us home. There will be plenty of time for reflection, but tonight there is only one thing on my mind. And that is that this feast is long overdue. Let the celebrations begin.’
With the room echoing to the sounds of cheering, Harold drained his goblet before leaning down to kiss his wife. It was good to be home.
* * *
Several days later, Harold walked along a corridor in Westminster Palace to the king’s chambers, having brought Edward Ætheling to London. The new heir to the throne was currently being escorted to his newly furnished quarters, and Harold had continued without him, keen to give an account of the journey to the king. As he neared, he saw a familiar figure walking towards him, and his face broke into a grin.
‘Archbishop Stigand,’ he said, recognising his old friend, ‘well met.’ The two men embraced before standing apart and looking at each other.
‘It has been a while,’ said Stigand. ‘Are you well?’
‘I am,’ said Harold, ‘and glad to be home. It seems life as an archbishop is agreeable to you – never have I seen you look so healthy.’
‘The role has its benefits,’ said the bishop, tapping his stomach, ‘and the sin of gluttony is hard to resist, but God helps me in my struggles.’
‘He is obviously not helping you enough,’ laughed Harold, looking at the bishop’s stomach, ‘but I am sure he has a purpose. Have you come to escort me to the king?’
‘Alas, I have not,’ said Stigand, ‘in fact, I have come to tell you he is indisposed and cannot grant you audience, at least not today.’
‘Why not?’
‘He is gravely ill,’ said the archbishop, ‘and nobody is allowed inside his chambers except his physicians.’
‘Is it serious?’ asked Harold.
‘For a while, we thought so,’ said Stigand, ‘but he seems to be pulling through. Give him a few days, and I’m sure he will want to speak to you. What about the Ætheling, is he with you?’
‘He is and has been taken to his quarters.’
‘His family?’
‘They have also arrived,’ said Harold, ‘though the Ætheling insisted they sailed on a different ship in case of disaster.’
‘A sensible decision,’ said Stigand. ‘What is he like?’
‘I will leave you to make your own judgements,’ said Harold. ‘Suffice to say, he is not what I expected.’
‘A damning statement in itself,’ said Stigand, ‘but we waste time. Come, we have much to talk about.’
He turned away and walked down the corridor towards one of the antechambers.
Harold’s brow creased slightly as the bishop’s manner seemed to suggest that he had something on his mind. Once inside, Stigand closed the door behind them and bid Harold sit at a table.
‘I have taken the liberty of assuming that you haven’t eaten yet,’ he said, indicating the tray of cheese and sweetmeats on the table. ‘Please, help yourself.’
Harold wandered over and sat on one side of the table before staring at his old friend.
‘Bishop Stigand,’ he said, ‘is everything well with you? You look burdened with worry.’
Stigand locked the door before walking over and sitting opposite Harold.
‘Something has happened,’ he said eventually, ‘something that could have grave consequences for England.’
‘Go on,’ said Harold.
‘When the king was at his worst a few days ago,’ continued Stigand, ‘he flitted in and out of consciousness. For much of the time, I sat with him even though he often did not recognise me, such was his fever.’
‘And?’
‘During one of these occasions, he mistook me for Archbishop Robert of Jumièges and spoke to me as such. During that conversation, he asked me something that made my blood run cold.’
‘Which was?’ asked Harold, picking up a piece of cheese.
‘He asked me if William of Normandy had accepted his invitation to become his heir.’
Harold’s hand stopped halfway to his mouth, and he stared at the archbishop in shock.
‘Are you sure?’ he asked.
‘Certain,’ replied Stigand, ‘he spoke as clearly as you do now.’
‘What does it mean?’
‘I’m not sure,’ said Stigand, ‘but if we take it at face value, it can only mean that when the king was heavily influenced by Robert of Jumièges, there was an offer made to William of Normandy to become Edward’s heir.’
‘Surely it was the ramblings of a sick man?’
‘I thought so,’ said Stigand, ‘but to make sure, I engaged with him in the conversation and got the impression that the offer was actually made sometime when your father was in exile.’
‘How can you be so sure about the date?’
‘Because he also referred to the fact that the country was well rid of the Godwin family.’
‘But if this is true,’ said Harold, ‘why would he send me all the way to Hungary to bring back the Ætheling?’
‘I’m not sure,’ said Stigand. ‘I can only assume he has had a change of heart and is looking for a way out from his offer.’
‘If this did indeed happen,’ replied Harold, ‘and he is now reneging on his promise, he risks invoking the wrath of William, and that man is rapidly gaining power and influence in Normandy.’
‘I agree, but if the Witan supports Edward in his choice of successor, namely the Ætheling, then William would be foolish to take any action to force his claim.’
Harold fell quiet as the news sank in. He did not know much about William, only that he was growing a reputation in Normandy as a powerful man with ambitions far exceeding those around him.
‘It is a worry,’ he said eventually, ‘but at the moment, it is nought but the ramblings of a sick man. Perhaps we should wait and see what Edward says when he is well.’
‘I agree,’ said Stigand, ‘but I thought I should mention it, for if Edward dies without a declared heir, then who knows how William will react.’
‘Even if it is true,’ said Harold, ‘will his claim be considered by the Witan?’
‘Possibly,’ said Stigand, ‘especially if the conversation was witnessed by Robert of Jumièges.’
‘But he has been exiled.’
‘Even so, he is still a man of God and was respected by many. If Edward dies and William presses his claim before the Witan can agree the Ætheling as a successor, then the throne of England could be decided based on little more than the promises of a king.’
* * *
Several weeks later, Harold was once again in London, though this time on much more pleasant business. The king had made a complete recovery and had managed to get the full approval of the Witan for his newly proclaimed heir, Edward the Ætheling.
Many of the nobles had hesitated at the choice, but with nobody else available, the feeling had been that at least he had the royal bloodline and that with the support of the Church, he alone could avoid a potentially devastating civil war. In addition, Edward Ætheling’s own son, Edgar, was now in England, a fall-back option in case anything untoward happened to the king or his father.
With the succession plans settled, Harold could concentrate and indeed celebrate the latest good news to come out of the palace: that his brother, Leofwine Godwinson, had been awarded the Earldom of Kent, an important award that added strength to the House of Godwin. Consequently, the whole family had taken up residence at their manor in Southwark, ready for the celebrations.
‘Are you ready?’ Godwinson asked his wife.
‘Aye,’ she replied. ‘Tell the grooms to bring around the carriages.’
One of the servants ran from the room as everyone gathered their cloaks against the chill of the evening.
‘Yet another earldom for the House of Godwin,’ said Harold to Leofwine. ‘Father would be proud. Make sure you lead with strength and respect.’
‘I will,’ said Leofwine, ‘it is just a shame that Tostig will not be present.’
‘You know he would if he could,’ said Harold, ‘but he has things to take care of in Northumbria.’
‘I hear the people are unhappy with the way he rules,’ said Leofwine. ‘Is that true?’
‘He has issues, that much is true,’ said Harold, ‘but he is a good man and will soon come to his senses.’
‘He has to,’ said Leofwine, ‘otherwise the Scots could take advantage and just march straight into England.’
‘That will probably never happen,’ said Harold, ‘but it is a point well made. Now come, this is going to be a good night.’
Before Leofwine could respond, the door opened, and one of Harold’s huscarls burst into the room. Everyone turned to see what was happening and listened in horror as he shouted across the hall.
‘My lord, I have terrible news. Edward Ætheling is dead!’
Part Two
Chapter Twelve
Westminster Palace, September, AD 1062 – Six Years Later
Harold sat in one of the king’s audience chambers along with Edward and Archbishop Stigand, picking on sweetmeats and a high-quality wine that had been brought back from Rome by one of his brothers. The mood was relaxed, more like comrades than monarch and subjects. Over the past few years, Edward had grown to trust Harold far more than he had ever trusted his father, Godwin of Wessex. In fact, the relationship between the throne of England and the Godwin family was so good that when Leofric of Mercia had died a few years earlier and his son, Aelfgar, had taken over his earldom, the king had lost no time in offering East Anglia to the one remaining Godwin brother without such a title, Gyrth Godwinson. This hugely important decision meant that apart from Mercia, the Godwin family were now in control of all England and second in power only to the king.
Not everyone was happy with the situation, but with Harold enjoying such a close relationship with the king, there was little anyone could do about it. Aelfgar of Mercia in particular still held a grudge and, despite being warned yet again about liaising with the Welsh, rekindled his relationship with Gruffydd of Wales, becoming a close ally and trading partner. So strong was their affiliation that, in order to foster an unbreakable alliance, he arranged the marriage of his daughter, Alditha, to the Welsh king, confirming their bond.
