The Wind From Hastings (9 page)
Read The Wind From Hastings Online
Authors: Morgan Llywelyn
He was not bothered. “There is no need for you to speak at all,” he said. “Women's words have no weight with me. I inform you of my plans as a courtesy, nothing more. I assure you, madam, there is nothing you can do to thwart me!” His cold eyes flashed such a sudden, hot blue that I was startled. Was there some way I could thwart him, then? Was he warning me off? If I could find the way, how gladly would I see all Harold Godwine's ambitions reduced to rubble about his ankles!
“At Gloucester I will produce the ⦠token ⦠we carry with us, and sue for peace on behalf of all Griffith's former subjects. Then, if you like, it will be given Christian burial.”
My eyes threatened to fill with tears, but I dashed them away. I would not give this man the satisfaction
of doing me a favor! “Do what you like with it! It is Griffith no longer; nothing of him lives in that bloody relic you acquired with treachery! His soul is immortal, his spirit is safely housed in his children; you cannot use his empty shell to play games with my sympathy.”
of doing me a favor! “Do what you like with it! It is Griffith no longer; nothing of him lives in that bloody relic you acquired with treachery! His soul is immortal, his spirit is safely housed in his children; you cannot use his empty shell to play games with my sympathy.”
There was a certain grudging respect in Harold's eyes. “You have a strong heart, madam. Do you throw sons as brave as yourself?” His eyes raked my body from breast to hip and back again. “Yes, indeed,” he murmured as if to himself, “Griffith chose well. Three children in a short span of years, and all alive and sturdy. Two sons, and a body to bear many more.”
I stared at him in horror; his thoughts were too frankly writ upon his face. “You think I would bear you children! I would kill myself on the instant before I let you even touch me!”
His smile was amused. “Oh come, Edyth. There is little you could do to prevent me if I chose to take you here and now. At a word from me, guards would be here to hold you for me, if that were necessary. Though it would not be; I have taken stronger wenches than you.”
He leaned, perfectly relaxed, against the bulkhead of his ship. I could see that he was enjoying this crude play, and my hatred only spiced the pot. I determined to bite my tongue and give him nothing more.
“You are of a noble house,” Harold commented idly, “for the line of your father is as old and honored as mine. You have kinsmen whose alliance would be of much value to me. You might be valuable as a wife.”
I was as deeply shocked as I have ever been. Under the circumstances how dare he make such a vile suggestion! How could he hope to force me to share a marriage bed with him after killing my Griffith!
Besidesâmy thoughts ranged back over the yearsâwas he not already wed? In my girlhood I had heard something, surely, about a wife to Harold Godwine? And was there not a touch of scandal to the story? I struggled to remember.
“What you speak of is not possible!” I lashed out at him. “You have a wife already. Would you add bigamy to all your many sins?”
The fierce blue eyes clouded, and I saw that at last one of my own darts had struck home. “Keep silence! I commit no crimes against God or the Church! The woman of whom you speak was hand-fast to me only, we were never wed formally. She is of peasant stock; our children cannot sit on the throne.”
With that one statement he revealed to me the utmost reaches of his ambition. It was true, then; Harold Godwine did indeed intend to be King of England, and even his long-time relationship with the mother of his many children would not be allowed to stand in the way of that goal. A hand-fast wife was bound to her husband in every way but in the eyes of the canon law. Harold would put her aside to get heirs whose bloodlines were above reproach.
“And your children by her?” I asked, anxious to wound him further now that I had got my knife into him a little way. “What of them?”
He was quick as a cat, Harold. He stole my weapon and turned it against me in the winking of an eye. “And your own children, madam, what of them? Mark you well, they are in my custody and power. If I choose to execute them tomorrow as a danger to the Crown, no man can say me nay. Think on that, Edyth!”
He spun on his heel and left me alone, the echoes of his words resounding from wall to wall.
The weapon Griffith feared most was at my throat now.
From that moment on the boys were kept from me. Gwladys brought Nesta to me to suck, but I never saw Llywelyn and Rhodri. “They are safe, my lady,” Gwladys assured me. “I see them myself, and they ask for you and send you love.” But it was not the same as having my own arms around them.
A guard stood, night and day, where my every movement could be seen. I was allowed on deck each day
to walk and take the air, but only during such times as the boys were safely out of sight. When we put in at Gloucester and Harold went ashore, I was kept closely guarded belowdecks.
to walk and take the air, but only during such times as the boys were safely out of sight. When we put in at Gloucester and Harold went ashore, I was kept closely guarded belowdecks.
Fortunately, one of my guards felt sorry for me. It was he who brought me news of the world beyond our prison ship. “Harold Godwine has put in to Gloucester and glory, my lady!” he exulted. “News of the subjugation of the Welsh has already reached here; the people are drunk with excitement, and it is said Harold will be proclaimed Vice-King by the Council!”
“What does it mean, Vice-King?”
“It ranks above the title of atheling, my lady. It is a sure sign of King Edward's favor and forgiveness.”
Forgiveness? “Why should Harold Godwine seek the King's forgiveness?”
“It was his father, Earl Godwine, who tortured to death King Edward's brother Alfred many years ago. Even when Edward married Godwine's daughter he could not find it in his heart to forgive that, for all his piety and charity. Although the Godwines rose to power until they controlled the Witan itself, the curse of Alfred's death has ever hung over them. Mayhap this new Welsh peace will put an end to the bitterness at last. King Edward has much to be grateful to Harold and his brother for.”
Murder and treachery; it seemed they ever ran in tandem with power and the struggle for it. Would that be the legacy of my sons, elegant Llywelyn and sturdy little Rhodri full of chuckles?
Harold Godwine came to me again, but he did not come alone. This time he brought with him two of his men, one of them Gareth of the ax. I smiled when I saw that.
“Are you so afraid of me you need protection, you murderous son of a murderer?”
Harold's expression did not change. “You have a savage tongue, Edyth. Mayhap I will take the time to cure you of it, and of all the foreign ways you learned
with your Welsh Prince. But there is not time for that now. I came to tell you that I ride for Worcester tomorrow with the Bishop Wulfstan.”
with your Welsh Prince. But there is not time for that now. I came to tell you that I ride for Worcester tomorrow with the Bishop Wulfstan.”
“What concern is that of mine?”
“None,” he said shortly. “But I thought you might like to know that I have divided Wales between Griffith's half-brothers, and they have all sworn fealty to Edward and to me. I go to tell my Lord King of these things and receive his blessing.”
I did not ask him about the head. I did not ask him for word of my children. I asked him nothing; I gave him a face of stone.
“I have been undecided as to what to do with you,” Harold continued, gazing at the wall above me as if I were of no consequence. “Your brother Edwin sits in Mercia now, know you that?”
I shrugged. Indifference is a woman's weapon, better than none.
“And your brother Morkere is come of age as well, and makes known his claim to land and title. Mercia is the only territory of great size in all England not under my influence, Edyth; I would like to feel that Earl Edwin has some reason to support me in the event of an attempt on the throne by some foreign usurper.”
“I can assure you there is little love lost between me and my brothers,” I informed him. “If you plan to hold me hostage to insure my brothers' allegiance, you make a mistake.”
“I plan to do no such thing,” Harold assured me.
“I doubt it will be necessary. If my judgment of his character is aright, I think Edwin will come to me in time. But I think it would be wise statecraft to keep you under my thumb, nevertheless. I should not like Griffith's widow and his wolfpups set loose in the countryside. I would not feel my back was safe.”
“So you will stay awhile with me, as my guest, Edyth. I hope that will be satisfactory with you?” He did not bother to listen for an answer. “And at such time
as your brothers seek a star to follow, perhaps we shall all be one happy family, eh?”
as your brothers seek a star to follow, perhaps we shall all be one happy family, eh?”
“Your guest!” I said contemptuously. “You mean your prisoner!”
“I mean what I said. Youâand the children, of courseâwill stay with my mother, the Lady Gytha, at one of our houses. I can assure you that you will have every comfort save only the ability to leave when you like. I would not show disrespect to a fallen foe's widow, Edyth. Griffith was a brave man and a worthy opponent; I want you to know that I am.aware of that and I honor him for it.”
“We don't need your honor! We don't need anything from you!”
“Nevertheless, madam, you will take what I give,” said Harold.
On the morrow, preparations were begun for us all to depart the ship, Harold and his men riding north, and I to be met by a party of Saxon housecarles who would take me to Harold's motherâand the start of my imprisonment.
An armed guard walked me from the dock to a place where two covered litters awaited us. I was seated in one before they brought my sons from the ship; looking through the draperies I could see them. Nesta stirred in my arms, and I clutched her close to me, looking down at her little face in the rosy half-light that filtered through the cloth.
A clatter of hoofs sounded from the High Street and was met with a mighty cheer. By that sign I knew that Harold Godwine was riding through the streets of Gloucester as a hero. Then my sons came up and were put into the other litter. A wall of housecarles closed around us, the litter swayed, and we began our journey.
A
S HAROLD GODWINE was Earl of Wessex, he controlled all that portion of land in the south of England from West Wales to the English Channel. The Godwines owned a goodly number of houses throughout the countryside, and as it was Harold's intention that I should be in his mother's custody (he called it “safe-keeping”), he was sending me to her residence of the moment at Chichester.
S HAROLD GODWINE was Earl of Wessex, he controlled all that portion of land in the south of England from West Wales to the English Channel. The Godwines owned a goodly number of houses throughout the countryside, and as it was Harold's intention that I should be in his mother's custody (he called it “safe-keeping”), he was sending me to her residence of the moment at Chichester.
Our way lay through the southern shires, a land I had not seen before, and very different from the sunny Anglian marshes. We traveled through peaceful green valleys and wooded pastureland where swine grazed; we crossed rolling meadows and skirted hills that were ridiculous in comparison to the mountains of Wales. All about us lay a rich and fertile land, readily obedient to the plow, and I began to realize the wealth of the Godwines.
One midday we stopped at a river fording to break our fast with bread and cheese, and the boys' escort allowed them to play for a little while at the edge of
the woods. Llywelyn and Rhodri had won the hearts of their guards, and often I saw the rough housecarles playing gentle games with the little fellows, games which were surely not a part of their orders.
the woods. Llywelyn and Rhodri had won the hearts of their guards, and often I saw the rough housecarles playing gentle games with the little fellows, games which were surely not a part of their orders.
But on this day the guards' vigilance must have slackened, for the adventurous Rhodri had vanished into the dark mouth of the forest before anyone missed him. I was watching Gwladys mutilate a perfectly lovely loaf of bread when of a sudden there came a wail of pain and outrage. Guards or no, I was on my feet in a twinkling and running toward the trees.
“Mama! Mama!” Rhodri came stumbling toward me, his chubby little arms outstretched and his face reddened and scratched by brambles. I scooped him up and held him tight against me, feeling the little heart race like a rabbit's. One of his escort reached us and tried to take him from me, but no one could have done so at that moment.
“Are you hurt? Did an animal attack you? God, child, are you all right?”
Rhodri went on wailing and sobbing, but the answer came to me in the calm voice of my elder son, standing patiently to one side. “It is the stinging nettle,” said Llywelyn. “I told him it was in thereâit is everywhere aboutâbut he wouldn't listen.”
I began to laugh with relief. The Saxon guard, unable to understand Llywelyn's explanation, looked vexed, so I made a quick translation for him. Then he laughed too, a thing which changed Rhodri's tears of pain to tears of rage. No doubt he felt his grave injury was not properly appreciated!
Rhodri was allowed to ride in my litter the rest of the day, and I endeavored to make up to him the grave insult to his dignity. Gwladys lacked a salve for stinging nettle, it not being much of a hazard in the mountains, so we were grateful for the supply of some from the purse of one of the housecarles.
By such small adventures did we approach Winchester.
A great city, Winchester, with some seven thousand souls, a cathedral and a market justly famed. Once it had been the capital of all Wessex, but times had grown portableâthe center of his land was wherever Harold was. Still, the city thrived and attracted produce and pilgrims, and I would have muchly liked to see it.
A great city, Winchester, with some seven thousand souls, a cathedral and a market justly famed. Once it had been the capital of all Wessex, but times had grown portableâthe center of his land was wherever Harold was. Still, the city thrived and attracted produce and pilgrims, and I would have muchly liked to see it.
To my great disappointment, we left the High Road before we caught more than a glimpse of the town ahead of us, and we skirted it altogether. Only later did it occur to me that perhaps there were those in Winchester who might have been willing to aid the widow and children of the Welsh Prince; perhaps Harold still feared my dead husband's power. It comforted me to think so.
Each night we slept at a house belonging to the Godwines or one of their thegns. As we traveled farther and farther from the land of the Cymry, there grew in me a great sense of isolation from my heartland, and the sight of my children was more dear to me every hour. I hugged Nesta to me so tightly betimes that she cried, and Gwladys would scold and take her from me.
We passed through the shires at harvesttime; at one small farm where we stopped for water they were celebrating the feast of Harvest Home. A ceorl came out of his cottage and invited us to join in their merrymaking.
“Please, Osbert!” I begged the housecarle who captained our party. “It would be a treat for the children!”
Like the others, Osbert was not unmoved by Griffith's little princes. “Very well, my lady, but mind you, it is a favor. Don't try to take advantage!”
What possible advantage could I have taken of such an opportunity? A helpless woman with small children, guarded on every side and lost in the heart of a strange country. I must confess the thought occurred
to me, but it was too formidable an undertaking for me to consider seriously.
to me, but it was too formidable an undertaking for me to consider seriously.
Harvest Home was the triumphal occasion of the year. To people who lived entirely by the efforts of their own hands, it was more important than Easter or the Christ Mass, I think. A corn dolly was made from ripe grain, dressed and decorated in a cunning fashion, and the farmers gathered round her to sing and dance. There was nothing of Christianity in this tradition, it was the ancient custom from pagan times, and I saw Llywelyn watching with wide eyes.
Osbert dropped on one knee beside my son to explain the ritual to him, and for that moment Osbert was almost as dear to me as lost Madog or Owain.
“They will sacrifice something, a sheep or an ox, and its blood will be sprinkled on the ground to insure next year's harvest.”
Llywelyn's quick mind had begun to grasp the Saxon language, although I had never spoken it to him in Wales, but his tongue stumbled badly over the words. As a gesture to Osbert, however, my noble boy did try to answer him in kind.
“The blood ⦠it will make things grow?”
“Aye, son, that is the belief.”
Llywelyn pondered a moment, then asked a question which stopped my heart and froze Osbert's smile upon his face.
“My father's blood; I saw it, on the ground. What will grow from that?”
Osbert shoved the little boy toward me, not unkindly, and turned his face away.
The countryfolk shared their feast with us, a bounteous spread of beef, bacon and wheaten cakes. Reed baskets were piled with eels and lampreys. There were golden mounds of cheese and butter, and in addition to mead we were offered stout ale and perry in wooden cups. They did not know I was widow to an enemy, but had they known it I am certain they would have treated me just the same. Simple people in robes
of goat hair and rough wool, on that day their joy was so great it overflowed and must be shared with everyone. Joy is like that. Sorrow is a solitary indulgence.
of goat hair and rough wool, on that day their joy was so great it overflowed and must be shared with everyone. Joy is like that. Sorrow is a solitary indulgence.
And so we came to Harold Godwine's seat at Chichester. Or rather, I should say, at Arundel, for it was there that the greatest of his manor houses stood. Even from a distance the size of it was impressive, looming through the trees. We had come down an open way between two vast forests, and as we neared the sea the wind swept to us like a familiar friend. For the first time in many days Gwladys smiled, for a moment, but the smile was wiped from her face when she saw Arundel rising ahead.
“It is a fearsome place!” she groaned.
“Nonsense. It is a manor hall, such as the one where I was born. And there is no need to be a-tremble, Gwladys; they will not eat us. The country roundabout is adequate to feed the Godwines very well.”
My brave words to my servant were from my lips and not my heart; the sight of Arundel frightened me as well. In truth, it was much larger than my father's hall at Thetford, and it was fortified somewhat as Rhuddlan had been.
We approached between two watchtowers, and the men who came to meet us were all armed. Osbert made his report to their captain, then servants came from within the hall to unpack us and escort us inside.
“The Lady Gytha, is she here?” I heard Osbert inquire of a porter.
“Aye, she is in her chamber and has not been out all the morning. Doubtless she will greet her guests when the mood strikes her.”
That did not bode well for our welcome!
Harold Godwine's hall was as big as the hall at Rhuddlanânay, biggerâand its richness was that of a king. Or a man who intended to be king. The timbered walls were stoutly made and chinked, and the sea wind was shut out by a magnificent array of tapestries, some as high as two spearshafts. Purple and
crimson and blue, fiery with gold threads, they took my breath away.
crimson and blue, fiery with gold threads, they took my breath away.
One had only to look at the number of feasting tables to realize the size of this vast household. And each table was draped with linen, after the Irish fashion, and covered with a wealth of gold and silver plate.
The fire which blazed night and day upon the hearth at the center of the hall was fed by wood unfamiliar to me, and the smoke was different from our sea-coal fires at Rhuddlan. I had come to yet another world, more hostile than any before, and I squeezed down inside myself and was afraid.
I was taken to a pleasant enough chamber, although it had neither hearth nor window, and there I slept on the first featherbed in all my life. An uneasy sleep under Harold Godwine's rooftree. Nesta slumbered on my breast, Gwladys lay at my feet, but no one shared the darkness inside my skull.
About cockcrow a page came to me. “The Lady Gytha bids you God's day, and asks that you come to her chamber,” the lad intoned in a piping voice.
“Dress me well, Gwladys! The violet silk, if it will hold together for one more wearing, and Griffith's medallion on my breast. I would not have this woman think me beneath her station!”
I might have spared myself the effort, and my violet gown the final wearing which saw its seams give way forever. Gytha, Lady of Godwine, thought everyone beneath her station, and it would not have made the slightest bit of difference had I worn gold samite and a crown of diamonds.
“You are Edyth the Saxon?” she began straightway, eyeing me up and down.
“I am Aldith, widow of Griffith ap Llywelyn!” I replied with some hauteur.
“There is no more Griffith Llywelyn, and his kingdom has sworn fealty to my son! Therefore you are once more a Saxon, and his vassal. You would be well
advised not to vaunt your Welsh connection here; it is of no importance to us.”
advised not to vaunt your Welsh connection here; it is of no importance to us.”
I found myself speechless with rage and could only stand a-tremble, glaring at the woman, until I had my tongue under control. The things I would say on my own behalf could not be said, for my children's sake, but the effort to bite them back cost me dear. I contented myself with taking her measure with my eyes, but I was not reassured by her looks.
A powerful matron, broad-hipped and gray of hair, Gytha was still in the strength of her maturity, and the remnants of beauty lay in her bones. The Danish accent still flawed her Saxon speech, and her eyes were Viking eyes, sea-watchful and savage. Her body had born a litter of warriors; I saw them in her face.
“I am not your willing guest, madam,” I said coldly, “but I must insist you grant me the dignities of my station.”
“Your station is whatever my son decides,” she replied. “But I do not dishonor a guest, willing or otherwise, so you have no need to insult my hospitality by demanding fair treatment.”
Our relationship was not well begun.
That night I had a dream, a nightmare, which was also a memory and a foreboding. I saw again the road from Gloucester to Winchester and that place of evil omen we had come upon. We had ridden for many miles through a lush and smiling countryside, dotted with ceorls' cottages and tapestried by late summer roses. And then, of a once, our way opened out onto a great drear plain, almost level, but with low-rising sweeps.
The spot was the extreme of desolateness, especially in the gathering twilight. The plain was dotted with mounds and fallen columns of stone, ancient tumuli beyond the telling of man. Druid circles, the housecarles whispered among themselves, and the pious made the sign of the cross.
A cold, sad wind was blowing as we paused on the
Salisbury plain and looked at the ruin they call Stone Henge. No one spoke; even Gwladys fell silent with the hush of the place. I felt then a sense of timelessness, of deeds long past and deeds yet undone, and I felt that my small life had no part in any of it. The stones watched, uncaring, and kept their secrets. The clouds raced over us to their rendevous with the night, and a chill struck into my soul I thought I should never lose.
Salisbury plain and looked at the ruin they call Stone Henge. No one spoke; even Gwladys fell silent with the hush of the place. I felt then a sense of timelessness, of deeds long past and deeds yet undone, and I felt that my small life had no part in any of it. The stones watched, uncaring, and kept their secrets. The clouds raced over us to their rendevous with the night, and a chill struck into my soul I thought I should never lose.
All this came back to me in my dream that night in the hall at Arundel. That same sense of doom no man could avoid, that same cold. It was said that blood sacrifice had been done at Stone Henge, and not the blood of cattle and pigs, either. In my dream the scent of blood came to me again, and I thought it blew to me from the future.
Gytha did show me one kindness: a mother herself, she understood my need for my children and did not keep us apart, though I doubt not that was her son's intention. They made the adjustment better than I; at least Rhodri did, and for the baby one home was very like another. Llywelyn was another matter. Very much his father's son, he had a tendency to worry a thought until he had got all the meat off its bones. I cannot count how many times he asked me the same questions.
“When will we go home, Mother?” “If Father is dead, am I Prince of Gwynedd now?” “Will I fight for Wales when I am older?”
Other books
Fire in the Blood by Robyn Bachar
A Fatal Waltz by Tasha Alexander
The Boss and Her Billionaire by Michelel de Winton
Second Sight by George D. Shuman
The Land of the Shadow by Lissa Bryan
The Red Queen Dies by Frankie Y. Bailey
Orient Express by John Dos Passos
Eye Candy by ReShonda Tate Billingsley
Sons of Liberty by Adele Griffin
