Enchantress Mine (26 page)

With a surprised yelp he released her, his blue eyes glittering. For a moment they stood staring at each other. She could see that he was bleeding. Then turning from him she forced herself to walk slowly from the Hall. The look she had seen within those blue eyes bespoke murder, and she was hard pressed not to show fear.

“Hellcat,” he called after her, “you have marked me as your own by that impetuous act!”

Stopping she turned to face him. “When you ride from Aelfleah tomorrow, Eric Longsword, do not return. There will never be a warm welcome awaiting you here from me. I will kill myself before I ever become your bride! No! I will kill you!”

His dark laughter echoed about the room. “Woman,” he said, “you but whet my appetite!”

W
hile Mairin and her family had been in Byzantium Earl Harold had conquered Wales in the name of King Edward. Gryffydd, the King of Cymru, as the people of Wales called their land, was murdered. Technically Harold’s hands were clean of the deed for Gryffydd’s own men had lured him into ambush to brutally slaughter him. It was whispered, however, that the earl had made it known he would reward those who saw to Gryffydd’s death. Harold had then forced Gryffydd’s queen, Edyth, into marriage. Edyth’s father had been Aelfgar, Earl of Mercia. Brand had seen that his father knew all of this.

Several weeks after their return to Aelfleah, they learned that Harold had arranged to have built a hunting lodge at Portskewet in Wales in the hope of entertaining the king. When it was ready, Caradoc, the son of the dead Gryffydd, brought a force of men to Portskewet on August 25th, St. Bartholomew’s Day. They totally destroyed the lodge, killed the retainers there, and made off with all the wealth meant to impress the king.

As if Harold did not have enough trouble grasping at the slippery succession, all the thegnes in Yorkshire and Northumberland met in hastily called session. With one voice they outlawed Earl Tostig, Earl Harold’s youngest brother, choosing in his place to be their earl the younger of Earl Aelfgar’s sons, Morkar, whose loyalty was to Harold. Then they killed all of Tostig’s retainers that they could find, both Danish and English, seizing all of Tostig’s weapons, gold and silver.

Again there were the soft voices suggesting Earl Harold did not care that his brother, and his brother’s family were forced to flee England to take refuge in Flanders with William of Normandy’s father-in-law. Tostig had been a great favorite with King Edward and now that he was gone, the ailing king had no diversions from his wife and her retainers, all of whom lobbied for Harold Godwinson to be named England’s heir.

“He has no royal blood,” the dying king maintained, and refused to make any public preference.

Just before Mairin’s birthday, on October 27th, the eve of St. Simon and St. Jude’s Day, the king granted Harold’s request that his brother-in-law, Morkar of Mercia, be granted Tostig’s earldom. The northerners had anticipated Morkar’s confirmation while waiting for the king’s decision. At Northampton they pillaged the area, indulging themselves in a bout of burning, killing, and cattle stealing before returning to their own homes.

One afternoon a messenger arrived at Aelfleah in the form of a traveling monk. He brought word that Eric Longsword’s family, loyal to Tostig, had suffered in the uprising. Both his parents had been killed and his lands confiscated. Eric had gone with Earl Tostig to Flanders. He would, however, eventually return to England when his earl did. As Thegn of Denholm, he was offering for Mairin’s hand in marriage.

Brand laughed. “The man is bold,” he noted, “but he is also a fool to think I would allow my sister to wed with one of Tostig’s outlaws. Thegn of Denholm, indeed! The lands are no longer his nor, I doubt, will they ever be again. He would be wise to return to service with the emperor in Byzantium.”

“Poor man,” said Eada sympathetically. “I will pray for his parents.”

“Good riddance!” said Mairin. “I know I must marry again, but at least we shall not be troubled by that pompous fool any longer.”

“Any candidates?” teased Brand.

“I think father means me to marry a Norman lord, and you a Norman lady, brother.”

“Harold will be England’s next king, sister. Even I see the way the wind blows. If Edward will not change the succession then Harold will forcibly take the kingdom.”

“And Duke William will take it away from Harold,” Mairin replied. “I agree with father, Brand. England cannot go on like this. Edward is the first Anglo-Saxon king of England in many years and he is actually half-Norman. England’s rulers have been Danish, Norwegian, Swedish. The northmen are forever squabbling over our land. It is time for change. We need a strong ruler, and I do not believe Earl Harold is that man.

“I do not trust a man who out of ambition puts aside his wife of many years to marry an enemy’s widow because he feels her brothers will be of service to him in his battle for England’s throne. Such behavior does not speak well of Harold’s loyalty. We cannot be certain that he was not behind the uprising in York that unseated a rival brother. Look who is put in his place. Morkar! A mere boy! A boy who can be used and manipulated. Earl Harold will never bring peace to England, Brand.”

“And you think William can?”

“Yes, I do. William is strong. With him upon the throne I do not believe outsiders will ever again attack us. That has been one of our greatest problems. We have been prey to all those seeking new lands. As for our people I believe that they will welcome the eventual peace that comes with the advantage of having a strong ruler.”

“You do not think the Normans who come with William will be seeking new lands? His army will be made up of a host of younger sons all eager to make their fortunes. I do not like Harold Godwinson, but at least he is English. I am not certain I want some foreign-born king ruling over me.”

“Duke William is a fair man. Father has always said so, Brand. He will not confiscate the lands belonging to those who support him. Only those who rebel against him.”

“Nonetheless,” said Brand, “for the first time in my life I am glad to live in this backwater on a small and not very tempting estate. With luck father and I shall be able to stay put until after the fighting, and then simply pledge our loyalty to the winner.”

Mairin chuckled. “Brother Bayhard always said I was the more intelligent, but I do not think it so, Brand. I think father would very much approve our staying clear of factional fighting.”

“We are safe for now, Mairin. Father’s first loyalty is pledged to King Edward. I can pledge no loyalty other than what my father ordains. As long as the king lives, and father remains in Constantinople, Aelfleah is safe.”

King Edward enjoyed a happy Christmastide at Westminster, during which time the great church he had spent his reign building was hallowed. This was done on the Feast of the Holy Innocents, December 28th. Shortly thereafter the king fell mortally ill. He died on Twelfthnight, January 5th. When word of his death was brought to all the four corners of England there was other news as well. The king had been buried immediately on January 6th, after which the mourners had allowed Harold Godwinson to crown himself king of England.

It was mid-January when word of this finally filtered into Aelfleah. The following dawn Brand and Mairin released the last two of Timon Theocrates’ black-and-white pigeons with a message capsule attached to a leg of each bird. The simple note was written in Mairin’s clear hand.
Edward is dead. Harold crowned. Come home.

If either of the birds got through to Constantinople Aldwine Athelsbeorn would return by the spring.

Meanwhile like every other manor in rural England, Aelfleah anxiously awaited the outcome of Harold Godwinson’s piracy of the English throne. It was not long in coming.

Duke William protested that Earl Harold had broken a pledge made two years prior supporting William’s claim to England’s throne. Harold ignored the Norman ruler. It was a serious and foolish breach, for among the kingdoms in Europe a man’s word was neither given nor taken lightly. Those who might have been sympathetic toward Harold now questioned his honesty. William prepared for invasion while obtaining the support of the Holy Roman Emperor, Henry IV, and the pope.

On the night of the 24th of April there appeared in the sky what some called a long-haired star, and others called a comet. For seven nights it blazed so brightly across the skies of Europe and England that it could even be seen during daylight. Tides were abnormally high and there were great showers of shooting stars on at least three nights. Both women and animals gave birth prematurely in the hysteria surrounding the phenomenon. Some felt the comet portended the end of the world. Others interpreted it as God’s obvious displeasure with Harold Godwinson’s usurpation of England’s throne. They said the comet was being used to light William of Normandy’s way to victory over Harold. The pope obviously agreed for he publicly declared his support for Duke William, and excommunicated Harold.

The comet disappeared as quickly as it had come, but Harold’s troubles were just beginning. Suddenly his brother, Tostig, arrived on the Isle of Wight where he was greeted warmly, and given ships, money and provisions. Meanwhile Harold gathered about him a huge army with which to repel William when he came. All of England waited poised.

At Aelfleah, however, there was a celebration to welcome home Aldwine Athelsbeorn. He had wisely stopped at Duke William’s court first and sworn his fealty. Since Edward’s death, Aldwine was free to pledge his loyalty to whom he chose.

“You English are always swearing me fealty,” said the duke wryly, “but once you gain the safety of your own shores you deny me.”

“Am I the only Englishman to swear to you since the death of King Edward?” the Thegn of Aelfleah asked.

“No,” said William, “you are not.”

“And do you distrust the others also, my lord?”

The duke chuckled. “I can see why my cousin Edward sent you to Byzantium. You are clever, Aldwine Athelsbeorn.”

“I am also a man of my word, my lord. Norman blood runs in my veins also, but even if it didn’t I would still think you the best king for England. There is no advantage to my having come here for my holding is isolated and unimportant. Although I have always been happy with Aelfleah, I doubt any among your followers would want my poor lands. I am not a man of ambition, and I seek nothing of you, my lord. I might have hurried home through Flanders, as did my five companions, but I chose to come and swear my loyalty to you, and if you will accept it, I will never betray you.” Then the thegn knelt, bowing his head in submission to the duke.

William of Normandy nodded almost imperceptibly. Looking down at the bowed head his hard, handsome face softened a little, and he said, “I accept your loyalty, Aldwine Athelsbeorn, and that of your son and family. I am grateful for it. I shall need good friends when I come to England. Rise now, and go in safety.”

The thegn rose to his feet, and bowed again to the duke. “I shall look for your coming, my lord,” he said. “When will I see you again?”

“I plan to be crowned in London by Christmas at the latest, Aldwine Athelsbeorn. You and your family are invited to my coronation.”

When the Englishman had departed the duke turned to his single companion, saying, “Well, Josselin, what do you think?”

“He seems sincere, my lord William, but one can never really be certain. If, heaven forfend, you lose in your battle to Harold Godwinson, I suspect he would as quickly swear his fealty to Harold.”

“That, my young friend, is called survival,” laughed the duke. “I shall find lands for you in England, Joss. When you must defend your own holding we will see how firm your ideals are. I will wager you quickly learn the fine art of compromise yourself.”

The younger man smiled. “I have decided upon a motto for my crest,” he said. “What do you think of
Honor Above All
?”

“That you set your descendants an overly hard task,” replied the duke. “Do not, my young friend, feel that because of the circumstances of your birth you must strive harder.”

“Haven’t you, my lord?”

“Touché, Joss. Perhaps I have at that, but there comes a time when a man must stop berating himself for something that was not of his making. It is true that you and I were both born out of the bonds of holy wedlock, but both of our fathers loved our mothers, and they recognized our births. Neither of us has really suffered the stigma of bastardy other than that occasional taunt from someone not even worthy of our notice. If Raoul de Combourg had been married to your mother when you were conceived, could he have loved you any more? I think not.”

“Still,” said Josselin de Combourg, “the circumstances of my birth have made it impossible for me to reap any gain in Brittany. My younger, legitimate brother is my father’s heir. I pledged myself to your service over twenty years ago, but were you not bound for England in the spring I should yet be landless. A man without lands is nothing, my lord William.”