Housecarl (11 page)

The King totally ignored all of
us and walked, with his knights into the cathedral. I don’t know
about the others but I felt that we had been snubbed.  I
looked at Ridley and Wolf and they appeared to be unaware of any
problem. As I looked at the reddening ears of the Earl I knew that
I had been offended because my leader had been snubbed and everyone
in the kingdom knew that the only thing keeping Edward on the
throne was Earl Harold Godwinson.

We stood there for most of the
morning and then, when the king and his party did emerge, they went
directly to the King’s hall. The Earl spoke to Sweyn and then
followed them. Sweyn turned to us and I think I could detect a
subdued anger about his face.  I had come to know the man and
recognise his idiosyncrasies.  He was like me, unhappy that
our Earl had been treated thus. “You may stand down.  The Earl
is proud of you and the display you made.”

As we went back to the hall I
felt empty.  I was fighting for a man I could not
respect.  Even worse I would be fighting a man I did respect,
Gruffyd. And then, like a dream like vision it struck me.  I
was not Edward’s man I was Harold’s man and that made all the
difference for my leader was a man of honour and a man worth
following. Edward was merely a symbol of England but Harold was
England.

Winchester 1062

The Normans spoiled my
Christmas. They arrogantly prowled around the crowded streets,
always armoured and often mounted. We recruits could not understand
their words but some of the older men told us that they spoke
disparagingly about our ancient weapons, armour and tactics. We
considered it the height of bad manners to behave so martially in
the peaceful town of Winchester, especially at Christmas. There
would have been trouble had not Sweyn and Ulf passed on Harold’s
admonition to bite our tongues. I knew that he did not wish to
jeopardise his attempt to persuade Edward to go to war with the
Welsh and offending the Normans would do just that.  There was
one young Norman, a knight not much older than me who seemed to
enjoy intimidating the ordinary folk of the city. He was Guy of
Evreux and was even more arrogant than his fellows.  Matters
came to a head on St. Stephen’s day when I had emerged from the
small church we used.  I had gone to pray for my mother and
Nanna.  As I came out I saw the Norman knight riding through
the street. That was not unusual but he was not riding slowly as
one would expect in a busy town. Instead he was riding as though
across an open field, galloping. I saw an old woman and her son
crossing ahead of me towards the cathedral and I could see that Guy
of Evreux could ride them down.  Impulsively, and remembering
dear Nanna, I hurried to their side and took her arm for the ground
was muddy and churned up. “Here Mother, let me take your arm.”

She looked up at me in surprise
and then smiled. “Thank you, young sir.  That is very
Christian of you.” I understood her comment for many of the
Housecarls were not Christian and she was surprised that one
behaved in so thoughtful a manner. Rather than slowing up when he
spied us Guy accelerated and I could just see the grin on his
face.  I would not move and I made sure that I was on his side
of the couple.  I was not afraid for I remembered the attack
in Wales.  The horse would veer away, even if the warrior
tried to run us down.  I would not give him the pleasure of
seeing us run. I was also ready with my right hand to ward off any
blow and I kept my eye on the horse.  The knight was aiming at
us and, although the horse was trying to avoid us I could see that
the reins were jerking his head to strike me. I knew that he would
crash into us and I did the only thing I could think of, I punched
the horse as it drew close.  It immediately reared and veered
away throwing the young knight to the floor. I escorted the shocked
couple to the cathedral and noticed some of my comrades smiling at
me.

“Well done young Aelfraed. 
An interesting approach.” Osgar was leaning on the cathedral wall
but keeping an eye on the knight.  I saw him nod his head and
I turned to see the angry young man storming towards me, sword in
hand.

“You Saxon dog! How dare you
strike my steed. Defend yourself.” I had not known he could speak
our language until then.

I was, to my own surprise,
calmness personified and I spread my hands.  “With what Norman
cur? Unlike you we do not ride armed in a peaceful town at this
holy time of year.”

A crowd had gathered and I heard
the clatter of hooves as other Normans approached. Seeing them
emboldened the young knight. “Well go and get a weapon and then I
will teach you a lesson.”

“And why would you need to do
that Guy of Evreux?” The man who spoke was the leader of the
knights,  Odo of Mortain.  A powerful baron and  a
confidante of Duke William we had heard.

“He struck my horse and I
fell.”

One of the other knights
laughed.  “And you want to kill him because you are a poor
horseman?”

He reddened at that and pointed
his sword at me, “He has insulted me and I demand
satisfaction.” 

Odo’s voice was chillingly
threatening.  “Sheath you sword.  This is a holy day and
we will not spill blood.” He seemed to see me for the first
time.  “Housecarl what have you to say?”

“I was escorting the gammer,“ I
pointed to the terrified old lady and her grandson, “to the
cathedral and he rode in too fast.  Had I not struck the horse
then we would have been hit ourselves.”

Odo flashed his eyes at Guy, “Is
this true?”

“I was in charge of my
horse.”

“Were you young Guy of Evreux?
So much so that you were close enough for this man to hit your
horse.  Go back to the quarters and I will deal with you
later.” As Guy rode away I could see the look which he gave me and
knew that this was not over. “You have courage to stand and face a
charging horse but I would advise you to move a little quicker the
next time.” With that he turned and rode away his companions
clanking after him. 

I turned to see ten Housecarls
advancing on me, all of them cheering. “Well that is a Christmas
gift and no mistake.  Come Aelfraed, this Stephen’s day you do
not buy ale for we are all delighted that the Norman was humbled
so.”

“You are a fool!”

My uncle’s words sobered me up
in an instant. The day had been a blur of praise and banter from my
comrades.  When I had returned to the hall my uncle’s
glowering face had warned me of a storm. The drink had made me
bold. “Should I have let him knock down the old lady?”

“You should have bitten back the
pride that rose in your throat and hurried across the street. 
You deliberately provoked the knight.”

I became angry. “So we are to
bow down and kiss their arses are we?”

In answer Aethelward slapped me
backhanded across the face. “Do not speak to me like that ever or
you shall be sent back to Medelai in disgrace.”

I stammered my reply, “You
cannot do that I am one of Earl Harold’s Housecarls.”

“You are a housecarl because I
say so. Now you will not leave the hall again until we leave for
the borderlands.”

I thought about arguing but
behind his back I saw Ulf and Ridley their pleading faces willing
me to accept my punishment. I nodded. Ridley came over to me. He
could always hold his ale better than I could and he put his arm
around me. “Come along master let’s get you to bed.”

Ulf’s voice came from behind
me.  “Give him some well water to drink.”

As I swallowed the icy cold
water Ridley began to undress me. “You made your uncle angry. 
He was going to send you home until Ulf intervened and said that
you should be given another chance.”

As I began to sober up I
realised that I had almost lost my place in the shield wall; all
because of an arrogant Norman.  Uncle was right I could have
avoided the conflict but I wanted him to charge me so that I could
show him I was a better warrior.  It had been foolish and I
would apologise the next time I saw Aethelward.

Perhaps my foolish action
precipitated our early departure or perhaps it had always been
decided that we leave during the first week of January but whatever
the reason I was glad to be away from the confines of the hall. The
archers and mounted men arrived the day after St Stephen’s Day led
by Magnus of Wallingford the horseman and Edwin the Archer. 
Both had enough scars about them to suggest that they were no
strangers to the battlefield. Ridley and I were lucky that we had
our own horses for our gear.  Most of the men had to throw
their arms and armour in the back of a wagon. I had hoped that, as
we had a number of horses, we would be allowed to ride but Ulf had
put his foot down.  “We are the Housecarls and we all suffer
the same privations as well as the same glory.  We walk.”
Ridley threw me a look which told me that he thought I had been
foolish to bring it up and perhaps he was right. I had allowed my
combats and the training to make me feel more important than I was
and I still bridled at the arrogant Norman.  Perhaps walking
would be good for my humility.

As we left, in the early hours I
saw the Normans watching us; it irked me that they did so but it
made me march a little straighter and with a little more pride.
Soon, however, I realised that this would not be a glorious march.
We used the remains of the Roman roads whenever we could and for
the most part made good time but sometimes we came across stretches
where the locals had decided to use the cobbles for their buildings
and then we squidged through mud which sucked at our feet. We were
heading north westwards, towards the frontier town of
Worcester.  Hereford would have been closer to the Welsh but
it was still garrisoned by Aedgar’s Mercians. Most nights we were
able to sleep in a walled town for which we were grateful.  At
other times we froze on the ground. I was glad that I had brought
my wolf skin for it kept me dry and protected me from the cold. I
felt guilty that I had not told Ridley to buy one and I tried to
make it up to him by sharing on the really cold nights.

“No master.  It is not
right for you are noble and I am not.”

“But Ridley we are brothers in
arms.  We fight and die together.”

“Aye and that is a good thing
but it is my own fault that I did not use my pay wisely as you
did.  Fear not master I am tough and I will survive.”

As we passed through many of the
Roman settlements I was amazed that they had built in stone all
those years ago and yet now, hundreds of years later we still built
in wood.  They had indeed been a wondrous people who could
build such roads and such buildings. When we reached the old town
of Aqua Sulis I took Wolf and Ridley to explore the deserted baths.
“They went in water? They deliberately made themselves wet?”

“Aye Wolf, although from what I
was told the water was hot as were the rooms.”

He shook his head.  “Do not
mock me Aelfraed.  How could they make the rooms hot?  I
can see no fires.”

I pointed to the floor. “They
heated air and warmed the floor.”

The two of them could not
comprehend just what the ancient Romans had achieved.  The
broken aqueducts were just one of the many things which were alien
to them.

It was a relief to reach
Worcester which had fine ramparts, a garrison and, most
importantly, a warrior hall so that we would be warm at night. I
went with Ridley to find stabling for our horses and to see what
damage had accrued over the long journey. Fortunately my oil had
protected mine and, after we had cleaned Ridley’s I gave him some
of the precious liquid to protect his. Aethelward did not waste any
time in discovering what lay beyond the frontier. He and Magnus of
Wallingford led the mounted men each day, first north and south and
then gradually west.  Ulf drilled the archers and the
Housecarls so that we could fight as a unit. Once again we were
left in no doubt that our role in a two line shield wall was to
protect the archers but for once I didn’t mind. I remembered how
effective Ridley had been when attacked on the road and anything
which whittled down the enemy before we met was fine by me. When we
were in wedge I found that we were still in the rear rank but that
was now the sixth rank.  We would be much closer to the fore
in any fight. Whenever we could we practised with spear and axe to
hone and perfect our skills.

After three weeks of training I
was becoming bored and yearned for action.  I envied the
horsemen who rode out each day and returned empty handed. At least
they had been doing something more productive than practising
endlessly.  When action did come it came not from the west but
from the east and it was not the Welsh but it was the Mercians.
Whilst we had been in Worcester we had gained the friendship of the
garrison there. Largely Mercian they were the retinue of the son of
the Earl, Edwin.  Edwin was not like his father and distrusted
the Welsh.  Harold and Aethelward must have had some inkling
of the discord otherwise we would have been sent to Longtown or
closer to Hereford. It seems that Aedgar had aspirations on the
English crown but Harold’s power meant that could never be. 
Edwin on the other hand was content to be in Mercia and saw the
advantage of a strong England and a weak Wales. I did not know what
messages had passed from one to the other but it seems, looking at
it now, that there must have been an agreement from Edwin to use
his fort.

One morning in early March,
Aethelward did not lead out the horsemen instead Magnus took half
of them and the rest were gathered, along with the archers at the
gate. We wondered if we were to be left behind again when Ulf
addressed us. “We march.”

It was to the point but it took
some by surprise and they had to race back in to the hall to gather
their weapons. We marched behind the horsemen, who were spread out
before us as scouts and ahead of the archers.  I had thought
that we would have crossed the river and headed west but, instead,
we headed north. Although we were the largest host I had ever
marched with I knew that the one hundred and five of us were but a
small band of warriors and I wondered, as we headed up the old
Roman road, what was the purpose of this march. We headed north up
the Stour valley.  I had a little idea of what lay ahead and
my only worry was the Mercians.  Were we going to ally with
them?  It would have made sense.  The garrison had told
us that few men supported the idea of an alliance with the Welsh,
Gruffyd’s ambitions were well known. When our scouts galloped back
to tell us of the approach of a Mercian standard we relaxed. When
Ulf roared, “Wedge!” we were stunned although our training took
over and I found myself in the middle of the rear rank of the
thirty Housecarls. Behind me I could hear the archers stringing
their bows and, ahead of us Aethelward and his scouts moved
steadily forwards.