The Bastard King (28 page)

When the moment came for the Archbishop to ask the assembly whether they would accept him as their king, Harold listened eagerly. There was no questioning the enthusiasm of the response. The shout that went up in the Abbey proclaiming their loyalty was fervent enough to please even him.

He wished that William could have been there to hear it.

Harold swore the oath required of him. He would work with all his heart, body and soul for his people. The ceremonial axe was passed to him and the assembly prayed that he would hold the crown of the Angles and Saxons in all honour and govern his people in peace, or should war arise defend them with all his might.

The new King was then anointed and the crown placed on his head.

After the High Mass of consecration the company repaired to the palace where a banquet awaited them. Harold the King took his place on the dais and Edith sat beside him.

He would have the whole world know that he regarded her
as his Queen and he expected all to accept her as such.

The feasting was not as merry as was general on such occasions. The old King was so recently dead, and for Harold it seemed as though a shadowy figure presided over the hall: the irate figure of the Duke of Normandy rattling the bones of long-dead saints.

Harold was realizing that it was not only from Normandy that he must look for trouble. His brother Tostig had always been jealous of him. He had been a favourite of Edward's and had clearly hoped he might have been nominated for the crown. It irked him that he was the younger brother. The fact that he had been driven from Northumbria rankled. It seemed almost certain that he would come in arms against his brother.

The North of England which was Danish in outlook would not willingly accept a Saxon King, and Harold expected trouble from Edwin and Morcar. Trouble from the North; trouble from Normandy; and somewhere in between mischief-making Tostig. Tostig loved drama; he was a born adventurer; it was possible that even more than a crown he wanted an exciting life. It had been so when they were boys. Where Tostig was there was trouble. Brave, courageous, brilliant fighter that he was, he was unpredictable, without loyalty, swaying to whichever side would give the greater excitement which his adventurer's heart craved.

He was married to the sister of the Duchess of Normandy – an ill-conceived match.

Which way to turn? How could he be sure? There was only one thing of which he could be certain and that was that he must be ready to face attack from any direction.

The first threat came from the North. Edwin and Morcar were massing against him. He was ready; but what if while he were fighting in the North, William of Normandy landed in the south?

He called the Witan and put the case to them.

They were behind him to a man. They knew the threat which hung over them from Normandy and were determined
with him to have no Norman on the throne. William's reputation was well known. He was one of the most skilled generals in the world; he was ruthless and determined. Spies reported that already he was planning an attack. There must not be civil war in England.

There was a possibility that peace would be kept and Edwin and Morcar turned from enemies to allies. They had a sister.

‘I know of her,' said Harold. ‘She is the widow of the Welsh rebel chieftain whom I slew in the service of King Edward.'

‘A widow, my lord.'

‘What of this?' said Harold fearfully, half guessing.

‘If you married her, you could win her brothers to your side. It is being said that this is a condition they are asking in return for peace.'

‘Marriage!' whispered Harold.

‘It is sometimes the duty of kings to marry where they have no will to,' was the answer.

‘I must consider this.'

‘Marry this woman,' he cried to Edith. ‘The idea is repulsive to me. How can I marry the widow of a man whom I have slain?'

‘She seems to be ready to forget that.'

‘She! She will hate me. It is her ambitious brothers who would force the marriage.' He took Edith's hands and looked into her well-loved face. ‘My only love, my queen,' he said. ‘How could I marry this woman?'

‘The Witan decided it is necessary.'

‘Am I not the King?'

‘Kings keep their crowns by the will of the people, Harold.'

‘You, to urge me to this marriage!'

‘It would be but for form. She would have the title of Queen and her brothers would be placated. It would make no difference to us.'

‘That is something I would not tolerate.'

‘Let us consider it then. What if Edwin and Morcar strike in the north?'

‘Then I shall take an army and defeat them.'

‘And William, knowing you are engaged in the north, chooses that moment to land.'

‘You echo the Witan, Edith.'

‘Because it is clear that this is what could happen. You must marry this woman, Harold.'

‘I see that you are right,' he said. ‘But what when she is here . . . in my palace . . . What then, Edith? What of you?'

One of Edith's great attractions was her placid temperament. It was never more evident than at this moment.

‘That is a matter we must deal with when it comes,' she said. ‘For the moment our great need is to turn your enemies of the north into your friends.'

The next day Harold announced that he would marry Aldgyth, widow of Gruffydd the King of Wales whom his armies had recently slain during the Welsh rebellion.

Delay was dangerous, it was decided. Edwin and Morcar hinted that they wanted immediate action. Harold had made promises to the Duke of Normandy which he had not kept. The Earls of the north wanted to see the promises made to them carried out.

In the midst of the preparations Harold's sister Elfgiva died. Some thought this an evil omen as Elfgiva was she who had been promised to Normandy. She was buried quietly lest the idea grow that her death could be construed as some sort of judgement that had grown out of the anger of saints whose bones had not been treated with due respect.

Without further delay Harold was married to Aldgyth.

There was no question of consummating the marriage. Aldgyth was well aware of his relationship with Edith, and she knew that he had married her because her brothers had demanded it.

But she was the Queen and her place was on the dais beside him. She would never forgive him for making her a widow for, although his may not have been the hand which had slain her husband, it was his men who had done so.

The marriage had been forced upon them both, and she, no more than he, wished it to be anything but in name only.

She eyed the beautiful Edith Swanneshals with disdain, although she did feel a pang of envy for that incomparable beauty; and it had to be admitted that Harold with his fair good looks and Edith with her calm beauty were as handsome a pair as could be seen through the country.

As for Harold, the crown had brought him little joy. Often he brooded on how different everything might have been if he had never been shipwrecked on the coast of Normandy. If he had made no promises to William he would have been free to turn his attention to the north, and subdue Edwin and Morcar instead of having to placate them with his distasteful marriage.

There came news from William.

It was with trepidation that Harold broke the seals.

William wrote reasonably. He knew that Harold could not have forgotten an oath taken with such solemnity and sworn over the dead bones of saints. He understood how, on the death of Edward, he had been put into the position which he now held.

William was ready to forgive if Harold would immediately put right the wrong he had done. It could be simply arranged. He would send his sister to Normandy that the marriage. William had arranged for her should take place; his own affianced bride Adelisa should come to him. He would fortify Dover castle on William's behalf and publicly renounce his crown.

On receipt of this command Harold cried out: ‘I'll not be dictated to by the Norman bastard. What right has he to the throne of England? No greater one than mine and I have been elected by the Witan and I have their pledged support.'

He answered William somewhat jauntily, implying that he had no intention of complying with any of the demands save one. If William so wished he would send the dead body of his sister to Normandy.

He was now firm in his intention. He would fight to the death to hold what he had.

At the Easter celebration Harold appeared in public in his crown – a handsome figure of a man, kingly in his bearing. The people cheered him. How different from pallid Edward! He was a great commander, a just man; his love for Edith of the beautiful swan neck pleased their romantic notions; his marriage with the less attractive Aldgyth showed them that he would put duty before pleasure.

They were pleased with their King, although rumours reached them that across the channel the fierce Duke of Normandy was seething with rage.

Then a terrible fear came to the nation for there appeared in the sky what many of them believed to be a sign of God's anger. A flaming body – as big as the moon – with a long tail appeared in the sky.

People stood about looking up at it, expecting the skies to open and God to appear in his wrath.

They were sure that God was angry.

Edward was dead and there was a new King of England – a King who had sworn away his kingdom on the bones of saintly men.

Was this why God was angry?

In the north it was seen. It was a warning, said the men of the north. Old men said that their grandfathers had seen it blazing in the sky and it was always followed by invasion. The Danes had come in their hordes and ravaged the homesteads; they had plundered the riches of the land and taken the women. It was a sign of God's anger.

It hung over Westminster, said some. It was God pointing to what had angered him. It was God's fingers, some said. It was a sword, said others.

It meant that there would be war and a disaster in the land.

The men of the north said it was a sign to them to rise for the comet hung over the north.

In the south they said it meant disaster for the King for it hung over the palace. In Normandy they were saying it was a good omen because it hung over Normandy and it was God showing the Duke the way.

Its presence was interpreted by people according to their mood, and the fact that the Normans regarded it as a sign of God's approval and the English as a sign of his anger was an indication of the mood of the people.

At night as soon as darkness fell the comet blazed in the sky.

Harold and Edith watched it from the window.

‘What does it mean?' asked Harold. ‘What can it mean?'

‘It
is
like a sword,' said Edith. ‘It could mean that William will come and you will defeat him.'

How she comforted him! He smiled at her and thought of Aldgyth whom he had married; and he thought of his vow to William of Normandy and said in anguish: ‘Oh God, what have I done?'

He looked at the comet. ‘Go away,' he said. ‘I beg of you go away.'

And after seven days and nights had come and gone the comet was no longer there. But men and women continued to talk of it.

THE COMET HUNG
over the castle of Rouen.

‘By God's Splendour,' cried the Duke, ‘this is a sign. God is on our side. He has set a sword in the sky as sign. I am to go and take that which was vowed to me.'

Harold's insolent reply had come to him. His sister was dead, but he had married Aldgyth; and he had been crowned King of England.

He must show Harold that he, William, was not to be crossed and that he would not stand meekly by while others took that which had been promised to him.

He shut himself into his chamber; he wanted no one to interrupt him; not even Matilda. She respected his mood for she knew that his head was full of plans.

He was going to cross the sea and conquer England but he
needed ships and men; and he needed to know that the whole of Normandy stood with him.

He must state his case to a council of his vassals; he must tell them that he needed their help. They had sworn fealty; now was the time he could demand it.

To demand was not wise. There had been trouble enough in Normandy. What he needed was a united Normandy even as Harold needed a united England. Trouble on the home front could destroy them both.

He thought first of men whom he could trust. There was his Seneschal William Fitz-Osbern, son of that faithful man, who so many years ago had been done to death in the bed in which they had lain together. There were his two half-brothers, Arlette's sons by Herlwin, Robert, who was now Count of Mortain, and Odo who was the Bishop of Bayeux.

He summoned these three men to him and told them that he was determined to take England and he wanted every influential baron and knight in Normandy behind him.

‘They will need to be persuaded,' said the Bishop.

‘Persuaded to do their duty!'

‘Ay, persuaded,' added Odo.

‘They must be reminded of their oaths of fealty.'

‘Which,' pointed out the Bishop, ‘applied to the defence of Normandy.'

‘Come,' said the Duke impatiently, ‘are they such dullards that they cannot see what this could mean to them?'

The three men looked at each other and William said to Fitz-Osbern, ‘I charge you with this duty. You will summon them all and make clear their duty to them.'

The Seneschal said he would do what was required of him.

‘And with all speed,' added William. ‘I grow impatient.'

Fitz-Osbern forthwith summoned a meeting of the barons. They knew for what purpose they had been called together. Harold of England had sworn a sacred oath to their Duke which he had flouted. He had promised to help him to the throne of England and had taken the crown for himself; he had agreed to marry the Duke's daughter and had now married another woman. The honour of Normandy was at stake.