The Challenges of a King, page 8
‘Perhaps it was an oversight.’
‘Possibly, though could it be that she knew exactly what she was doing and wanted to delay the alarm for as long as possible?’
‘Are you saying she engaged in subterfuge to break her vows willingly and lie to the Church?’ gasped Robert.
‘All I am saying,’ said Stigand, ‘is that the facts are clouded at best, and we should be careful not to condemn anyone until the truth has been ascertained.’
‘Either way,’ interjected the king, ‘this cannot be allowed to continue. We need them caught and this whole situation brought to an end, no matter where the blame lies.’ He turned his attention back to Godwin. ‘Earl Godwin,’ he said, ‘no matter which way we look at this situation, it is clear that your son has brought shame not only on the House of Godwin but on the Crown, and I cannot allow that to go unpunished. His actions demand that he is arrested immediately and taken into custody until he can appear before the Witan. However, out of respect to your long-standing loyalty to the Crown, I will allow you time to find your son.’
‘Thank you, your grace,’ said Godwin.
‘I have not finished,’ said the king. ‘Time you will get, leniency you will not. Once you have left this hall, I will be arranging a proclamation to state that your son, Sweyn Godwinson, is to be declared outside of the law, and any man bringing him, or his body, to this court, will be given a purse of silver as a reward. That proclamation will not be issued for a period of three months, giving you plenty of time to find him and deliver my ultimatum.’
‘Which is?’
‘That he releases the abbess into the custody of the Church and leaves these lands on the first available ship. I care not where he goes, but if he returns without pardon, it will be to face the executioner’s blade. That is my decision.’
‘Your grace—’ said Godwin, taking half a step forward, but his objection was cut short by Bishop Stigand.
‘And a fair decision it is,’ said the bishop, staring at the earl. ‘And we welcome it as both sensible and lenient.’
Godwin stared at Stigand for a moment, realising that if his friend was backing the king’s judgement, then it was pointless seeking further clemency.
‘Well?’ said Bishop Robert. ‘What say you, Godwin of Wessex?’
‘Three months, you say?’ replied the earl, looking at the king.
‘And not a minute more,’ replied Edward. ‘If I have not heard that he was seen sailing from our shores by then, I will mobilise however many men I need to flush him from his hiding place and, if needs be, cut him down like a dog. My decision is final.’
‘So be it,’ said Godwin before bowing his head in acceptance.
‘Good,’ said the king. ‘This audience is now at an end, Earl Godwin, and I will pray that you can repair your family’s name.’ He got to his feet and left the room, followed by Robert of Jumièges. When they had gone, Godwin turned to Stigand.
‘Do you think he will carry out his threat?’ he asked.
‘I do,’ said Stigand, ‘for he has no other choice in the matter. If he had let it go, it would have sent a message to all men that it is acceptable to assault the Church without retribution. In fact, I would say you have been very lucky – if it were not for the fact that the king is married to your daughter Sweyn would already be a hunted man. Find him, and get him on that ship with all haste.’
‘We will,’ said Godwin, ‘thank you, your grace.’
‘Just finding him will be thanks enough,’ said Stigand. ‘Now be gone while you still have light.’
Godwin and Harold left the audience chamber and headed out of the palace towards the stables.
‘What now?’ asked Harold as they reached their horses.
‘I am going back to Bosham to gather our huscarls,’ said the earl, ‘you go and inform Beorn Estrithson of what has happened here. Ask him to bring fifty men and meet us in Hereford seven days hence. He and Sweyn have always been close, and if your brother won’t listen to us, perhaps he will pay heed to his cousin.’
‘So be it,’ said Harold, mounting his horse, and they headed out into the dirty streets of London.
Chapter Nine
Kent, September, AD 1047
King Edward and his wife stood on a hill overlooking the hunting fields of Kent along with the royal falconers. Down below, teams of beaters flushed birds from the undergrowth and no sooner had they taken flight than one of the handlers sent a hawk skywards to bring them down.
For the past two hours, the royal couple had enjoyed some rare time together and had walked miles with the hunting party. The gamekeepers had bagged over a dozen birds as well as an unexpected deer that had broken cover well within reach of the hunting dogs – a welcome yet unexpected bonus.
The ground fell away before them, and they could see the village of Dover. Beyond them was the sea and, in the distance, the shores of France.
‘This will be a good place to rest,’ said the king to one of the servants walking behind him. ‘Set up the tent here, and we will stay a few hours.’
‘Of course, your grace,’ said the servant, turning away to make the arrangements.
‘So far,’ said Edward, gazing out across the sea, ‘yet so dangerously close.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Ealdgyth.
‘Over there,’ said Edward, ‘lies the home of so many who covet the throne of England. If it weren’t for the sea, this realm would constantly be at war with enemies from here to Rome and beyond.’
‘But not all are foes,’ said Ealdgyth, as two servants lowered the chairs they had carried on their shoulders from the caravan several leagues away. ‘We also have allies in Europe.’
‘Indeed we do,’ said the king, lowering himself into the chair and accepting a tankard of ale from a servant. ‘In fact, we received good news only yesterday about my cousin, William of Normandy.’
‘Really?’ said Ealdgyth, lowering herself into her own chair. ‘You did not say.’
‘It escaped my mind,’ said Edward.
‘How is the duke?’ asked Ealdgyth.
‘He is fine now,’ said the king. ‘But do you recall last year when I told you that his cousin, Guy of Burgundy, led a revolt against him?’
‘I do,’ said Ealdgyth. ‘You said he was ambushed and was lucky to flee with his life.’
‘Indeed he was,’ said the king, ‘and fled to the court of King Henry of France. Since then, they have been raising an army to attack the rebels, and yesterday I found out that not only did they meet in battle at a place called Val-ès-Dunes near Caen, but that William and the king heavily defeated the rebels despite being vastly outnumbered. According to the despatches, the young duke played an impressive part in the victory and led from the front, as all good leaders should.’
‘That is good news,’ said Ealdgyth. ‘I have met him once and he seems like a good man.’
‘He is,’ said Edward, ‘and even more so as he has had to fight for his position ever since his father died. I have lost count of those who have tried to manipulate or even kill him, but he has had good guardians, and at last, it looks like he is forging his own path.’
‘What happened to Guy of Burgundy? Was he killed?’
‘Apparently not,’ said the king. ‘He escaped to his castle in Brionne and has holed up there. William has laid siege and aims to force him out to settle the argument once and for all.’
‘He aims to kill him?’
‘If necessary, but it may not come to that. Once William’s ire has calmed, he may accept an oath of allegiance.’
‘I hope so,’ said Ealdgyth, ‘there is so much killing these days. Why can’t we just enjoy a few months’ peace for a change?’
‘Such is the way of the world,’ said the king. ‘There is little we can do to change it.’
* * *
In Hereford, Godwin of Wessex sat at a table in his missing son’s manor house, nursing a tankard of warm ale. His face was drawn and his eyes dark from lack of sleep, for since he and his men had arrived weeks earlier, he had insisted on leading the search for Sweyn himself, sometimes being in the saddle for days on end. Despite their efforts, there had still not been a single sighting, and he was rapidly losing hope they would ever be found. He poured more ale from the flask into his tankard, knowing full well that time was rapidly running out. If he could not find his son soon, Edward would release the proclamation and Sweyn would be declared an outlaw.
Behind him, the door to the hall swung open, and Harold and Beorn walked in out of the rain. A boy ran over to take their sodden cloaks as the two men joined the earl at the table.
‘Well?’ said Godwin, looking up. ‘Did you find him?’
‘We did not,’ said Harold, reaching for two of the empty mugs on the table. ‘But we have some information that may be of use.’
‘I am sick of hearsay and rumour,’ said Godwin. ‘Every day we hear that someone knows somebody that may know where he is, and every day that information turns out to be useless. We have knocked on the door to every manor house in the west of England, but Sweyn remains as elusive as a wolf.’
‘That’s because,’ said Harold, dropping into a chair opposite his father, ‘we have been searching in the wrong place.’
Godwin stared at the two young men.
‘Are you saying he has already fled to France?’ he asked.
‘No,’ said Harold. ‘We have heard this very morning that Sweyn is currently staying in a manor not far from here.’
‘But you said he is not in England.’
‘He is not,’ said Beorn. ‘He is in Wales, enjoying the hospitality of Gruffydd ap Llewelyn.’
Godwin was shocked. It had always been a faint possibility, but they had never taken it seriously due to the continued aggression of the Welsh towards anyone English.
‘Are you sure about this?’ he asked.
‘As sure as we can be,’ said Harold. ‘There is a man in the next village who occasionally scouts for him, and he said he served alongside Sweyn when he campaigned with Gruffydd against King Rhydderch. The scout said he led Sweyn to a manor house several leagues inside the Welsh border a few months ago but was sworn to secrecy.’
‘And was there a woman with him?’
‘He could not say, only that there was a covered cart that he was not allowed to see inside.’
‘That must be it,’ said Godwin, ‘the place he is living. We need to go there straight away.’
‘Father,’ said Harold, ‘think about what you are saying. If we cross the border with an armed patrol, the Welsh will fall upon us like a winter’s storm. We need to think of some other way.’
‘Like what?’ asked Godwin. ‘The three months is almost up, and there will soon be a price on his head.’
‘I know,’ said Harold, ‘but to ride into Wales invites even more trouble. Sweyn enjoys Gruffydd’s patronage at the moment, so at least he is safe where he is. Perhaps all we need to do is wait until he tires of his situation and comes out of his own accord. In the meantime, we tell the king he is hiding somewhere in Wales, and we are still seeking a way to get to him. At least that way it will give us some more time.’
‘But he will have to come out sometime, and when he does, there will be a line of men from here to London waiting to claim the bounty.’
‘I do not see what else we can do,’ said Harold, ‘short of me riding in there alone to see if I can reach him.’
‘No,’ said Godwin. ‘I am already on the verge of losing one son, I will not lose another. This scout you spoke of, can he get a message to him?’
‘He can,’ said Harold, ‘and we have brought him with us. He is in the kitchens getting something to eat.’
‘At least that’s something,’ said the earl. ‘Let us get some rest, and tomorrow morning draft a message to Sweyn. Well done both, your efforts will not go unrewarded.’
The three men finished their drinks before heading to their quarters. It had been a hard three months, but at least they now knew where Sweyn was. All they had to do was decide what to do about it.
* * *
The following morning they met again in the hall, this time joined by the scout Harold had mentioned the previous night.
‘Hywel,’ said Harold as the scout entered, ‘help yourself to some food and take a seat.’ He indicated a pot of broth sitting to the side of the fire.
‘Thank you, my lord,’ said Hywel. ‘I have already eaten.’
‘You are a Welshman, are you not?’ said Godwin, carrying his own bowl over to the table.
‘I am, my lord,’ said Hywel, ‘born and bred in Gwent.’
‘So why do you live in Hereford?’
‘My father fell out of favour with the king of Gwent many years ago, so we had to flee. We had family in Hereford and have been living here ever since.’
‘Yet you have served as a scout for his son recently?’
‘I have, my lord,’ said the scout, ‘but he does not know my background. I have already explained all this to your son, Sweyn Godwinson.’
‘So I understand,’ said Godwin, ‘but he has not shared that information with us. I need to understand the relationship between you and the Welsh.’
‘I have no loyalties to anyone in particular,’ said Hywel, ‘only to my family. But I am an honest man, and whoever pays my purse will be served without question or fault.’
‘Did you take my son into Wales a few months ago?’
‘I did, my lord. I know the people there and was able to arrange a safe passage to the manor he had been loaned by King Gruffydd of Gwynedd.’
‘Tell me,’ said Harold, ‘does he have any of his huscarls with him?’
‘He does, my lord, about twenty trusted men, and his second, Owen of Hereford.’
‘No women?’
‘Not that I could see, though the cart was covered and I did not see inside.’
‘If I needed to go there,’ said Harold, with a glance towards his father, ‘could you take me?’
‘I cannot, my lord. I swore to Earl Sweyn that his location would remain a secret, and I am a man of my word.’
‘What if I told you his life was in danger and he needed to be warned?’
‘As I said, I gave my word and will stand by my oath. I am, however, happy to take a message to him for a price. I can be there by nightfall if I leave now.’
Harold glanced at his father, receiving a nod of approval in return.
‘Then that is what we must do,’ said Harold. ‘I want you to ride immediately and tell Sweyn he has to return here to meet me. Tell him it is a matter of life or death, and if he does not come, he could be dead within weeks.’
‘I will pass the message,’ said Hywel, ‘but it may help if he was to know more about this threat?’
‘Alas, I cannot share it with you,’ said Harold. ‘Just impress upon him that this is no idle matter. His life is at risk and he has to meet with us, if only for an hour.’
‘I will do what I can,’ said Hywel. ‘The price will be two silver pennies upfront and another two if I return with the earl.’
‘If you return with the earl, I will double the purse,’ said Godwin. ‘Just bring him back.’
Harold handed over the two pennies and watched as the scout left the hall.
‘We have done what we can,’ Harold said eventually. ‘Now we must wait.’
* * *
Five days later, Harold and his father were near the stables examining the legs of a lame horse. The stable hands had been nursing it back to health after it had suffered a fall during a hunt. Luckily no bones had been broken, and it now seemed the horse would make a full recovery.
‘Lift the leg,’ said Godwin, bending over to examine one of the rear hooves.
As he did, Harold heard a commotion at the manor gates and turned to see three horsemen riding into the courtyard.
‘Father,’ he said, tapping Godwin on the shoulder. ‘Look.’
Godwin stood up and turned around. At the far side of the courtyard, the three men were dismounting, and though he did not recognise one, the other two were known to him – the scout, Hywel, and his son, Sweyn Godwinson.
‘Put the horse to pasture,’ he said over his shoulder to the groom before wiping the filth from his hand on a rag hanging on the stable wall.
‘At last,’ he said to Harold. ‘Come, let us get this done.’
The two men walked across the courtyard, meeting the three new arrivals halfway.
‘Hello, Sweyn,’ said Harold as they neared.
‘Harold,’ responded the earl with a nod, ‘you seem to be coming here more and more often these days.’
‘Trust me,’ said Harold, ‘the situation demands my presence. We were beginning to wonder if you would come.’
‘Your man here was very persuasive,’ said Sweyn, ‘and said something about my life being on the line. Is this true?’
‘Perhaps we should discuss this inside,’ said Harold. ‘There are things best left unheard by those who would wish you ill.’
Sweyn turned to Godwin.
‘Hello, Father, you look tired.’
‘Age is a burden that grows heavier by the day,’ said Godwin, ‘not helped by the fact that I have wasted almost three months looking for you.’
‘My life is mine to live as I see fit,’ said Sweyn, ‘there was never any need for you to come here.’
‘We will see about that,’ said Godwin. ‘But Harold is right, these things need to be discussed in private.’ He turned to the scout. ‘You have my gratitude, Hywel, and your work here is now done. Report to the steward and tell him to pay you what you are owed. It has already been authorised.’
‘Thank you, my lord,’ said the scout. ‘If you ever need anything else, you know where I am.’
As Hywel turned away, Godwin addressed the second man alongside Sweyn. ‘I know not your name, sir, but I request that you make yourself scarce for a few hours. You will find food and ale in the kitchens.’
‘His name is Owen,’ interrupted Sweyn, ‘and he stays with me.’
