Enchantress Mine (27 page)

The duke nodded his agreement. “If there were no English throne, Joss, I should find an estate somewhere with which to reward you for your loyalty to me all these years. I owe you much. Had you not been my messenger and bolstered Matilda’s confidence during the years I courted her, during the years that the pope refused us permission to wed, I do not think she would have had the strength to wait. There were others who would have seen her wed elsewhere. In England you shall make your fortune, my good and true friend. I shall need you there for I have not many friends such as that humble thegn, Aldwine Athelsbeorn.

“He is not a man of the court, but my cousin Edward wrote that in a world where so many men are not what they seem, Aldwine Athelsbeorn was exactly as he appeared. An honest man. He is also a skilled negotiator. We may eventually make use of him, but for now I wish him Godspeed in the last days of his long journey home.”

Aldwine Athelsbeorn did not know of Duke William’s blessing upon his journey, but the same day that he left the duke’s court he embarked for England. Within three days he rode across the little Aldford river and through his own gates. He had seen as he came from the coast the open preparations for the coming war, but in Aelfleah’s valley there were only preparations for the spring planting. The meadows held a bumper crop of lambs who gamboled in the spring sunshine. There was peace here, and he was relieved.

A young lad had seen him as he crossed over the river, and dropping his hoe the boy ran toward the manor house shouting as he ran, “The lord comes! The lord is home!”

Eada ran from the house, and seeing her, Aldwine spurred his horse. He leapt from the big beast’s back as they met and caught her up in his arms, kissing her soundly. Mairin came from
The Forest
with a basket of new herbs and roots but upon seeing her parents, she dropped her basket and ran to greet her father, almost colliding with Brand who had hurried from the fields where he had been supervising the serfs. Hugging, laughing, and weeping with their joy they moved into the house. Eada called for food and drink to be brought to her husband.

“What news?” demanded Brand, unable to wait even though his mother sent him a reproving look.

“Preparations for war, of course,” replied the thegn. “It’s evident everywhere. I stopped in Normandy to pledge my fealty to the duke.”

“Do they prepare for war in Normandy, father?” Mairin asked.

“Aye, and God help England if they resist.”

“But it is said that Harold Godwinson has a larger army than the duke,” said Brand. “How can the duke hope to beat such great numbers?”

“Harold Godwinson is a fine warrior, but William of Normandy is a better one, Brand, and he is a leader to whom men flock. From all over the French kingdoms, from Brittany, from Flanders, from Aquitaine and the Languedoc men are coming to join his army for he inspires loyalty. He has endless monies and great resources, and in the end he will prevail. I but pray it is sooner than later for the sake of England and her peoples.”

“What will you do, father,” said Mairin, “if Harold Godwinson calls for the
Fyrd
to be raised? How can you not go?”

“Once again I thank God for Aelfleah’s isolation. But if we are called, I shall find myself too ill from my long journey, and unable to answer Earl Harold’s request. As for you, my son, you will then be forced to remain here protecting Aelfleah as I will be unable to do so. Remember, Brand, there is nothing dishonorable in refusing to commit a foolish act even if everyone else around you does. There are those who will speak of honor and duty in this matter, but having pledged my fealty to Duke William, it would be dishonorable for me to fight against him. Our duty, Brand, is to your mother, your sister, our people, and to Aelfleah.”

All during the summer of 1066 England waited for the invasion to come. Though William of Normandy was more than ready the winds would not cooperate and blew steadily from the wrong direction. Earl Harold had indeed called for the
Fyrd
to be raised. They learned it from a traveler passing through the valley. No one, however, had come to Aelfleah. In the invasion hysteria they had been overlooked. Along the coast facing Normandy the English army waited and waited for the attack that never came.

The army that had been raised from the
Fyrd,
which was a local militia under the command of its various thegns, grew restless. Many had come from a great distance and as the summer wore on the local people grew tired of feeding the great horde of men who did nothing but eat, drink, wench, and polish their weapons. Then messages began to arrive for the waiting thegns from their wives. It was harvest time, and there were no harvesters.

The coming of Earl Tostig on the Isle of Wight caused momentary excitement particularly when he sailed into the Humber with sixty ships. Mercia’s young Earl Edwin came with a large land force, and drove Tostig off. Aldwine Athelsbeorn, hearing of the battle, smiled grimly and said, “Englishmen fighting Englishmen. This is what Harold Godwinson and his brothers have brought us to. There will be worse to come, you may be certain. Tostig has gone to Scotland, but you can be sure we have not heard the last of him.”

In September Harold Godwinson was finally forced to disband his army. It was obvious that William of Normandy would not be coming to England this year, and the harvest would not wait any longer. The good weather was almost over, and the winds had kept William at bay all summer. Soon the waters that separated England and Normandy would be too unpleasant to navigate and only the heartiest fisherfolk and traders would venture out upon that choppy sea.

Just as the army returned home the King of Norway, Harold Hardraade, decided to press his tenuous claim to the English throne. Joining with Earl Tostig, he swept down the Yorkshire coast. Young Earl Morkar sent to his brother, Earl Edwin, for help. This time a call to arms arrived at Aelfleah.

“We must go,” said Aldwine Athelsbeorn.

“But why?” Eada demanded. “Did you not say you would not answer the fyrd?”

“I said I would not fight William of Normandy, but this is not William. It is that damned savage Norwegian, and Tostig! How can I refuse Earl Edwin’s call to aid his brother? I am a Mercian, and it is Mercia’s earl who asks my help. Brand and I must go.”

Brand was beside himself with excitement. He was past twenty, but had never had the opportunity to participate in a battle. Joyfully he prepared his weapons, sharpening his sword blade, honing his spear, while his mother grimly checked his chain mail to be certain that it was in good order.

Mairin took Dagda aside. “Go with them,” she begged. “I know that it has been many years since you have smelt the winds of war, and I do not ask you to fight, but stay near them, Dagda. Bring them safely home.”

Dagda did not ask her what she saw in the runes she had cast although he had seen her spread the stones upon their velvet cloth three times. He knew he would come back safely because Mairin would have warned him if he needed to take extra care.

In the days following their departure the women of Aelfleah manor completed their chores as if in a daze. It had been many years since their village had been touched by war. The old women shook their heads and told terrible tales while the young women fretted for the safe return of husbands and lovers. They arose at first light, and sought their beds shortly after sunset. Each found comfort in sleep. Mairin did not.

At York a great battle was fought, and the Norwegians triumphed. There was terrible slaughter of the English forces. Dagda gathered together those of Aelfleah’s people who were alive and recalling his old battle skills, he circumvented the Norwegians and led them all home to their quiet valley. Seeing the look on Eada’s face as he gave her the body of her only son for burial, he realized the futility of war, and wept with her.

As they stood by Brand’s grave he said to Eada, “If it is any consolation, I can tell you that Brand was as brave and noble a warrior as any I have ever seen. It was an awful battle for his baptism of fire. More skilled men than he lost their lives.”

She nodded silently, and he knew his words had brought her a small measure of comfort. He was grateful she did not ask the circumstances of her son’s death, for Dagda did not think he could relate the truth to this gentle woman.

Mairin, of course, had asked him, and he had told her that as Brand knelt over his injured father he was struck from behind by a helmeted warrior who then disappeared back into the thick of the battle. He told her of the look of total surprise that filled Brand’s blue eyes in the instant of his death.

“You cast the runes thrice,” he said. “Did they not warn you of this tragedy?”

“You know how hard it is for me to see things relating to those closest to me,” she answered him. “I asked the runes if father and Brand would return home. Thrice I asked, and three times the runes said they would return. It did not occur to me that Brand would be dead, and father mortally wounded. If I had been more specific I might have warned them.”

“Then it was their fate,” replied Dagda. “You are not to blame. How could you have known?”

Aldwine Athelsbeorn lay dying in his own bed. He called for Eada, Mairin, Dagda, the priest from the village church, and as many of his people as could crowd into his bedchamber. Gathering the last of his strength he told them, “My son is dead, but my daughter lives. It is she that I designate my heiress. It is she to whom I leave all my worldly goods, my lands, and whatever wealth I have managed to accumulate. Do you swear to me that you will give her your fealty?” He fell back against his pillows, and for a moment his eyes closed. Then they opened and focused sharply on the people about him.

A chorus of “Ayes” echoed throughout the room.

“Father,” he continued, “will you swear to any who ask that it was my last wish that the lady Mairin be my heiress?”

“Aye, my lord,” said Father Albert. “I will so swear upon the blessed body of Christ crucified, and upon the tears his holy Mother Mary shed.”

“Mairin, my daughter, will you keep my fealty to Duke William?”

“Aye, father.” The tears coursed down her cheeks. The knowledge that she was losing the wonderful man who had rescued her and who had become her parent was incredibly painful.

“And you will care for your mother?”

She nodded, reaching out to take Eada’s hand, unable to speak now.

He fastened his dimming gaze upon Eada. A weak smile lit his face. “Ahh,” he said, “you are as beautiful now as the day I first saw you in your father’s hall. Protect Mairin. Love each other after I am gone as you have loved each other in my lifetime.”

“Do not leave me, my lord,” Eada wept. “What is there for me without you?” She was visibly paler.

“There is our daughter, Eada! You cannot leave her to fend for herself. She needs you! It is not God’s will that you come with me. You have been the best, nay, the most perfect of wives. Never have you disobeyed me. This is the hardest task that God has ever set for us both—to go on without each other—but surely it is meant to be else he would not ask it of us. If you love me you will do this for me.” He fell back again amid the pillows of his bed, ashen, his breathing now rasping painfully.

“I love you,”
she whispered. “There was never anyone but you, and though it pains me I will obey you, my lord, in this last thing.”

He smiled faintly at her. Then he said, “I love you too, my true heart, but I must go. Brand awaits me. He is even now calling to me.”

She saw the life flee from his eyes, and she fell upon his chest sobbing. For over twenty-five years she had shared his life, and now he was gone. She was alone. Then she felt Mairin’s hands gently drawing her away, and held in her daughter’s embrace she realized that she was not alone. The greatest gift that Aldwine had ever given her was on an autumn day long ago when he had come home from London with a giant of an Irishman, and the most beautiful girl-child that had ever been born in his keeping. Now he had put them into each other’s keeping. She looked up at her daughter saying, “How do we go on, my child? I feel that you are wiser than I.”

Mairin sighed. “I suppose,” she said, “that we begin at the beginning, mother. We will bury father next to Brand, and then we will continue as we have always done. The harvest must be completed. None of what has happened today will prevent the winter from coming this year. If I am to feed and protect our people we must gather in all the foodstuffs that we can.” She turned to the priest. “Father Albert, we will bury my father tomorrow after his people have paid him their respects. You will put in the church book that on this Michaelmas Day, in the year 1066, Aldwine Athelsbeorn joined his Lord and that it was a sad day for all his people of Aelfleah.”

Those at Aelfleah did not learn until weeks later that on the same day that Aldwine Athelsbeorn had died, William, Duke of Normandy, had landed at Pevensey. Several days later the decisive battle for England was fought at Hastings, and Harold Godwinson was killed along with his brothers Leofwine and Gyrth.

In London Archbishop Aldred and the townspeople attempted to place the child, Edgar the Atheling, the last in the line of Wessex kings, upon the throne. Earls Edwin and Morkar swore fealty to the child. In the end, however, the archbishop, the young Edgar Atheling, Earls Edwin and Morkar, and the influential citizens of London, capitulated to William of Normandy. They gave him hostages, and swore their loyalty to him. William in return promised to be a good king to them, but he also allowed his men three days’ plunder to punish the English for their resistance to his claim of sovereignty.

At Aelfleah none of this was known, for the very isolation that had protected the manor over the years also made it the last place in Earl Edwin’s domain that news arrived. On St. Hilda’s Day, the eighteenth of November, Mairin was returning from the woods with a party of young girls with whom she had been nutting. Having taken on her father’s heavy responsibilities she had found little time for levity and had needed this respite from more pressing manor business. She rarely had time to ride Thunderer, who was restless from inactivity. Now as they came laughing and chatting from the woodland they saw a party of armed and mounted men just coming across the ford in the river. The village girls stopped. Eyeing the men warily they then looked to Mairin for direction.