Viking King Page 16

  Ælfgar was not alone in being unable to look away from the atrocious injuries inflicted on the men of Bamburgh. There were nineteen bodies, all of them with mortal wounds, mostly to the neck, but also to the stomach. Ælfgar was not unconvinced that at least two of the bodies hadn’t been buried while the men yet lived, for their mouths were gaping open and filled with soil, the eye that remained seeming to scream for assistance.

  But, there was no sign of Earl Eadwulf’s body, and neither was there any means of determining who had killed these men, or even who they had been.

  All jewels, weapons and armbands had been snatched from the dead. All that was left was the white-cold marbled flesh, speckled with brown, dried blood, and the black of the soil.

  “Fuck,” Ælfgar all but exploded.

  He’d killed men before, but they’d always been his enemies.

  “What do we do with them?” Wulfstan was leaning on a spade, sweat pouring down his face in dirty lines. He’d stripped his mailcoat and tunic from his body, and his skin, touched by the sun, was a stark counterpart to the bodies before them.

  “I’d sooner return them to their families, but the corruption is too great. I’d not take this back to them. The wounds are bad enough, but to see the bodies in such a state would be too traumatic.”

  “So, we rebury them?” Ælfwine pressed.

  Ælfgar could tell that Ælfwine was keen to be away from the bodies, and he felt the same.

  “Yes, we do, but we all stand as a witness to these terrible deaths if we have the need to. But, check, one final time, that there’s nothing to tie these murders to Earl Siward.”

  A mumble of agreement greeted Ælfgar’s words, as he handed his spade to Æthelheard, bending to pick up his own discarded weapons belt. He felt naked without it, but the work had been too cumbersome to keep it on.

  As he did so, a flicker of light caught his eye, and Ælfgar pounced forward. What had he found?

  Scrabbling in the dirt, Ælfgar’s filthy fingers dug around something that had been repeatedly stepped on top of, forcing it ever deeper into the soil. Then a disgruntled grin touched his lips.

  In his hand he held a small piece of silver, no doubt knocked from a larger item, but on its surface, for all to see was a rendering of a crow, and all knew that Earl Siward’s emblem was that of a crow.

  Ælfgar had his proof. But what he chose to do with it now was another matter entirely.

  Unhappily, Ælfgar watched his cousins and the other men as the gruesome site was refilled.

  He’d seen enough of the dead since Harthacnut became king, and there hadn’t even been a bloody war. Yet, he couldn’t help thinking that this was only just the beginning.

  What did Harthacnut honestly have planned for England? And how would he ever look Earl Siward in the eye again, knowing he was no better than Ealdorman Eadric, King Æthelred’s murdering ealdorman?

  Chapter 13

  AD1041

  Leofric

  Leofric stepped from the ship into the growing dusk.

  Lord Edward had already stepped ashore, hesitantly, as though worried even now that treachery had been arranged. At his side, Ralph was more relaxed, his constant questions about England finally seeming to be at an end now that he was standing on her land. Leofric appreciated that they’d been a means for Ralph to distract himself from the terrible sea voyage they’d endured.

  No matter Leofric’s words of encouragement, Lord Edward was still anticipating betrayal. Leofric was aware that Ralph had been instructed to seek sanctuary at his mother’s properties if anything should befall his uncle. As much as Leofric had assured there was no treachery, Lord Edward was not prepared to accept those words. Not yet.

  And the storm that had blown them off course hadn’t helped.

  As Leofric picked out those who waited to greet him on the harbour front, he knew the problems of the day were not at an end.

  “Come, My Lord, there’ll be food and ale inside the reeve’s hall. It’s been a rough crossing. It’ll be good to feel the ground stable beneath our feet.”

  Leofric infused his voice with warmth as he led the way toward the welcoming lights of the reeve. The look on Ælfgar’s face, standing to the side of the shipmen busy about their work, worried Leofric. What had happened in his absence to make his son dash to Sandwich?

  Only then did Leofric’s heart sink, as he noted who else waited for him on Sandwich’s harbour.

  Lady Emma. Why had she come to Sandwich? The king had intended to meet his brother at Hurst Spit. Had the king not informed her of that? Had she come to Sandwich thinking that Lord Edward would return here, as it was where he had departed? Leofric had no idea, and it only made his task harder.

  “My Lord, your mother is here,” Leofric sidled up to Lord Edward and spoke the words beneath his breath. Leofric knew the news would displease Lord Edward, who had been murmuring to Ralph.

  “You said she wouldn’t be here,” the curt response told Leofric all he needed to know.

  “And that’s what King Harthacnut told me. I apologise. It can only be by chance. We weren’t even meant to come ashore here.” He and Lord Edward remained uneasy about each other, polite but distant, all at the same time. Leofric felt he needed to defend his actions.

  “I don’t wish to see her. Not yet.” Lord Edward’s force remained devoid of emotion, but the words were enough.

  “That might not be easy to arrange. Your mother is not a woman to thwart. Perhaps a brief welcome, and then you can eat in peace.”

  In the half-light of the coming night, Leofric couldn’t see Lord Edward’s face clearly, but he did hear the audible sigh of resignation.

  “Very well, and then, you’ll ensure she stays away from me. I don’t wish to speak with her in any great detail until after my meeting with King Harthacnut at Hurst Spit.”

  “Very well, My Lord.” Leofric agreed with a bow of his head, although how he would fulfil that promise was beyond him. But he wanted to hear Ælfgar’s news and found it easier to acquiesce.

  At the end of the harbour, where Harthacnut had taken the acclaim of the English people when he’d returned to England only the previous year, Lady Emma waited. She was all but alone, in a flicker of the last light of day.

  Leofric could tell she was uneasy. Perhaps she wished she’d not come to greet Lord Edward but was unable to move away, not now she’d been noted.

  He felt a tendril of sympathy for her.

  She’d birthed many children, and not one of them was close to her now. Not even her daughter. Leofric had always thought that daughters and mothers would be close. Certainly, his mother and sister had been. Perhaps Ralph would act as a go-between for his mother and grandmother. Maybe Lady Emma would have more success with the youngest generation of their family.

  Lady Emma could blame her husbands or circumstances, but really, her ambition had always ruled her, and she’d paid the ultimate price in failing to achieve any of her hopes.

  Leofric came to a stop before her, trying to convey with his eyes that this was not a good decision. Lady Emma only had eyes for Lord Edward, and it was almost as though she didn’t see Leofric as she drank in the sight of her son. Leofric had no idea of when the two had last met but assumed it was many years before.

  He sighed softly, the sound going unheard below the gentle breeze that buffeted the shore, unlike out at sea where a fierce gale still blew. This was going to become uncomfortable.

  Lady Emma swept into a deep curtsey, her dress pooling around her legs, her head lowered as she greeted her son in the way she thought most suitable.

  “Lady Mother, this is unseemly. I’m no king. Stand to welcome me, if I must greet you the moment I step foot in England.”

  Lady Emma stood, her face betraying no emotion. Leofric knew her well enough to appreciate that this was hard for her just from the rigid stance she employed.

  “I wanted to be the first to welcome you on your return to England.”

  Stood slightly behind Lo
rd Edward, Leofric couldn’t see his face but noticed his body stiffen at the words.

  “It’s a better welcome than last time I came here, but then, I come on my brother’s invitation, not your own. Now, it’s late, and I would sooner eat and rest before I journey to meet the king. The sea voyage has been less than pleasant, and I understand I must take another yet.”

  Leofric winced at the complaint in Lord Edward’s voice and looked away from Lady Emma. He didn’t want to see any hurt in her eyes.

  “Of course, My Lord Son. As I said, I merely wished to welcome you. I’m sure your half-brother has more lavish plans in place for you when he greets you. I had expected to find Harthacnut here, but clearly, I am wrong. But it has meant that this first, awkward meeting, has been held away from the sight of the court.”

  Lord Edward paused, to give her words consideration, and Leofric thought he might thank his mother, but instead, his response was cold. “I bid you a good day.”

  Without pausing, Lord Edward swept beyond his mother, and Leofric was forced to rush to keep up, with barely time to offer a welcome to Lady Emma himself. But in that time, he saw her entire body sag, and knew the meeting had been hard on her, and also disappointing.

  There were to be no tears of reunion. In fact, it was barely a reunion at all.

  But Ralph hesitated, and Leofric left him. Perhaps he was a kinder soul than his uncle, or maybe he was merely curious. He would have heard a great deal about his grandmother. No doubt Ralph would like to make his own assessment of her.

  Leofric noted that this didn’t seem to bother Lord Edward, and that surprised him. Was the king’s brother that most rare of people that could hold his own animosities and not expect everyone else to share in them? It would make a nice change to the recent run of kings if that proved to be the case.

  Lord Edward was silent at his side when Leofric quickly caught up to him, and he remained reserved. In front of them, some of the shipmen had lined the route to the local hall in respectful silence, providing a warmer welcome for the king’s half-brother than his mother had. Leofric hadn’t ordered the men to provide such, but he approved all the same and caught the eye of the ship’s captain to let him know as much.

  It had been a rough sea crossing from Bolougne, and they’d been driven far off course by the winds that had sprung up when they were almost within sight of England. This was the first port that they’d managed to direct their wayward ships into. Tomorrow, provided the winds lowered, they’d have to return to the correct meeting place at Hurst Spit.

  Leofric sought out Ælfgar in the press of shipmen, keen to know what had troubled his son so much that he’d come to Sandwich. But he failed to spot him, and so turned back to Lord Edward, keen to hustle him inside so that he could track down Ælfgar

  “Here, My Lord. You’ll be welcomed inside. I must seek out my son. I’ll introduce him to you.”

  “Very well, but hurry Lord Leofric. I’m a stranger here, with only Ralph for company, and I don’t much like it. I’ve endured too many friendless meals in my time already.”

  Bowing, Leofric saw Lord Edward safely inside and into the clutches of the reeve of Sandwich, and then turned back to face the harbour. Ælfgar stepped from the shadows and rushed to his side.

  Leofric squinted at his son. Again, how had Ælfgar known where he’d come ashore?

  “I saw the ships,” Ælfgar hastily answered. “I realised you would never make it to Hurst Spit, and hoped this would be where you finally managed to land. Anyway, it’s good. The king waits at Hurst Spit, so we can talk without him knowing of our meeting, for now.”

  Leofric absorbed the words and appreciated that Ælfgar’s news must be urgent.

  “Come inside quickly. Lord Edward is not a patient man,” he instructed Ælfgar, determined not to earn his future king’s enmity quite so soon.

  “I need you to know something first,” Ælfgar’s voice was little more than a haunted whisper.

  “Then tell me, immediately, and you can greet Lord Edward. He’s not at all like Harthacnut or even Alfred. I find him to be a strange man.”

  Ælfgar looked distinctly uncomfortable but leaned close to his father.

  “Earl Eadwulf is dead. Murdered, they say, by Earl Siward on the king’s orders, while under a safe passage given by the king.”

  “What?” Leofric felt his eyes open wide, as he gazed at his son, trying to determine the truth of what he said.

  “Earl Eadwulf is truly dead. Earl Siward will rule his kingdom in his place.”

  “And the king gave the order?”

  “That’s not commonly known, but it seems to be the truth. There was a survivor. He came to me at Coventry.”

  Leofric felt his face bleach of all colour, as realisation swept over him of how he’d been manipulated by the king.

  “Do you believe he sent me to Bolougne so that he could arrange the murder of the earl? He knows I would never give my approval to such an act, not after what happened with my brother.”

  “I can’t see why else he would have chosen you to bring Lord Edward home. Yes, I know he said it was because you knew Lord Alfred, but any other could have begun the dialogue. It didn’t need to be you.”

  “Damn the man,” Leofric complained, his thoughts fracturing on too many problems happening at the same time. “But come, I must introduce you to Lord Edward, and we’ll speak of this when he sleeps.”

  “Then you should know that Coventry is almost in rebellion, just like Worcester. My Lady Mother is much enraged. I don’t know what she’ll do in my absence.”

  Leofric grimaced. He had his opinion on what his wife might do, and he knew it was highly likely.

  Damn Harthacnut for sending him from England’s shores at such an unsettled time.

  “My Lord,” Leofric bowed before Lord Edward, where he’d settled beside the raging hearth. This was a small feast. There was little formality to it other than that provided by the reeve and his family who’d coped admirably on finding themselves suddenly hosting the king’s brother in their midst.

  As Leofric approached, he heard Lord Edward speaking to the reeve, but their conversation consisted of little more than comments on the weather, and it was young Ralph who seemed more at ease. Lord Edward almost looked relieved when Leofric stepped into view. That surprised Leofric who’d decided that the king’s brother thought little of him, other than some respect for the assistance he’d provided to Lord Alfred.

  “This is my son, Lord Ælfgar. You won’t have met before, but he might prove to be a friend to you.”

  Lord Edward gazed at Ælfgar, who bowed his head low, his hair unruly from his ride in the wind, and then stood smartly before the king’s brother, while Lord Edward squinted in the gloom of the room.

  “Come, sit with me, and eat. You’re right to think we might become friends, for I certainly need friends in England. To date, I’ve none other than Ralph, my nephew.” Ralph and Ælfgar quickly greeted each other while Leofric settled on a handy chair, and Ælfgar found a small bench and pulled it close to the hearth.

  Around them, the men who’d escorted them to England were crowding inside the hall, but of Lady Emma, there was no sign. Leofric spared a thought for her. The day had been cold, and her welcome had been poorly received. Worse, she’d been entirely excluded from Harthacnut’s welcoming committee for her son, and she was well aware of it by now.

  Ælfgar was speaking of his family to Lord Edward. “My mother is Lady Godgifu, and my wife, Lady Elgiva. I have two children, and another on the way.”

  “Sons?” Lord Edward finally seemed to relax at such an open display of friendship. Leofric considered all his son had just told him, while the conversation rumbled on around him.

  “Two sons,” Ælfgar tried his best to hold Lord Edward’s attention, and Leofric was grateful.

  Why, he considered, would the king have chosen to act against Earl Eadwulf now? It had been three years since the murder of Earl Ealdred. King Harald had been content to allo
w Ealdred’s brother, Eadwulf to rule Bamburgh.

  Bamburgh had held apart from the rest of England for too long for Harald to consider claiming it then. It was a proud kingdom, and while it worked with Earl Siward, there’d been no need to do anything to change the relationship.

  Was this a decision made by Harthacnut, or had Earl Siward forced the king’s hand? Earl Siward was an ambitious man. Perhaps it was he who hadn’t wanted to consider a future where the marriage he’d contracted brought him no landed gains. Leofric was reminded of Earl Siward’s appearance at Harthacnut’s coronation. It had been a statement of his intent. Was it now starting to come to fruition?

  Earl Ealdred’s death had been a matter of a long-running and bitter family feud with those responsible for the murder of his father. While it had been a shock, Leofric had hoped that the matter would be at an end, with both sides satisfied that justice had been served.

  Earl Ealdred’s brother had succeeded him, and he’d been acceptable to all. Or at least Leofric had thought he had been. Perhaps it hadn’t been what Earl Siward had hoped would happen. No doubt, Earl Siward had imagined that Earl Eadwulf’s death would just be considered another part in the long-running dispute. And one that he’d finally bring to an end.

  All the same, Leofric didn’t consider it the right time for the king to be making such statements about his kingship. A general feeling of unease ran throughout Mercia, as the new problems in Coventry highlighted, and no doubt within East Anglia and Wessex as well. The last thing they needed was for the people of Bamburgh to ally with the King of the Scots because the English king had given his earl permission to kill their earl. Moreover, it had been done while Earl Eadwulf travelled under a safe passage given by Harthacnut.

  Was it possible that Harthacnut was attempting to start a war with the King of the Scots? The thought chilled Leofric to his very bones as realisation struck.