1066: Year of the Conquest, and Beyond
A Trip Up the Meresea
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Eadward One-Eye pulled hard on the oars, propelling the boat forward in unison with the others. The River Meresea was sluggish and very wide so the going was easy. A couple of times they caught on sand bars and one of the sailors had to splash cursing into the knee-deep river to push them off. It wouldn't have been so bad but for the faint stink of shit, butchers' slops, and other waste coming down from Warington, Mameceaster, and a hundred villages of Cestrescir. The river was still water, but far from clean.
He pulled again, and again, arms bare despite the chill. Rowing over this distance was hot work, even when it had snowed last night. The day was bright and white, one massive blanket-like cloud filling the sky. The ship was already out of sight around the long bend, anchored just where the river met the sea. The captain refused to take her further in, it was well known by any captain worth his salt the Meresea was not for anything deeper drafted than a rowboat.
“How much farther, do you reckon?” Eadmund Haroldson asked him. The boy sat in the rear of the boat, in front of Eadward, not needing to row as he was a nobleman. His knees were pulled up to his chin and he looked comfortable wrapped in a great fur cloak.
Eadward looked over his shoulder at the next heave and just saw an endless track of brown water. To the sides he could make out swamp and fen. The river was two miles wide here. “I cannot say, my lord. Master coxswain!” Eadward called.
“Ho!”
“How much farther, do you reckon?”
“Till I drown or the cock rot do take me, I reckon.” The men laughed and cackled at his nasty humor, glad for this distraction from their toil. Eadward growled but said nothing. He could hardly afford to make an enemy of these sailors and their captain who would harbor and aid the fugitives. Though he couldn't see him the coxswain sensed his thoughts for he added, “I don't mean to fray you, my lord, and Thegn Eadward. I'd say we are another five miles or so from Rumcoven. Another hour or two.”
“Thank God. We are past halfway then.”
“Well past halfway. We can rest a minute if you like, I have good Irisc fire to share around if you like.” When assent was forthcoming the coxswain said, “Alright then, let's steer us to a shoal. Come full left now and we'll be there in a minute. Get ready to hop out and steady us if we need it, Albert, you lazy bastard. Come on now.” Soon enough they were stopped, flexing and massaging their aching shoulders.
The coxswain hopped out despite the stink and came over to the rear of the boat. “My lord,” he bowed and held the flask to Eadmund. The boy stared at it uncertainly.
Eadward took it and sniffed. “Phew, foul enough to be the real thing,” he grinned. “I need to drink it first. Not that we don't trust you, we just cannot be too careful.”
“As you say, Eadward,” the coxswain shrugged. “None of my business. It's very precious cargo we're carrying here. If anything happens to Cing Godwine, lord Eadmund would be next in our hearts.”
Eadward coughed and gasped on the whiskey, wiped his mouth. “I'd be spared your sarcasm, if you don't mind. I thank you for your help, but I doubt it matters much to you who is cing.” He handed the flask to Eadmund, nodding. The men each took a few sips, felt new warmth and vitality flood into their bodies. “By God, we'll make good time now.”
“I'm ready for a nap, I am,” the sailor named Albert said.
“Albert you lazy bastard!” the coxswain called from the front, now steering them again, peering suspiciously for shoals. “Only open your mouth to breathe!” To better gasp and heave.
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“It was a surprise,” Wulfstan, the fort commander at Rumcoven, said through a mouthful of stew. He spooned more into his mouth, chewed, swallowed. “Seeing men girded for war rowing up the river. Eadward Little—he's our boy here, just a bastard kid we take care of till he grows up and no doubt becomes one of us—anyway, Eadward would've shit himself if he saw you. Mind in the clouds about viking warriors and the like,” the man shook his head, chuckling.
Eadward exchanged glances with Eadmund and the other men who'd been on the rowboat. The sailors were eating on a bench in the barracks with the soldiers, but the thegns and lord Eadmund occupied most of Rumcoven fort's small hall. Eadward shook his head minutely at them and look back toward Wulfstan.
The commander was a wide man, and Eadward could see why from the way the man fairly inhaled stew. Still he held the spoon nimbly and could no doubt be just as graceful with a blade. Earl Eadwine of Mierce was many things, but a poor judge of skill he was not.
After some more minutes of dining, Wulfstan devouring and the other men poking into their bowls nervously, Eadward decided to act. The man would obviously not be more forthcoming. Just as he was about to speak, however, Eadmund did. “Wulfstan, you know the reason for our flight. Our cingdom has been overcome by a foreign menace for the time being. Our forces were undone and we must flee to maintain our freedom. Only with the freedom to raise funds and gather men can we free our people.”
Wulfstan pushed his bowl aside immediately and locked his fingers together. “Go on, my lord.”
“We are searching now for our cing, my brother Godwine. We know he lives. Good Eadward here saw him with his own eyes—with his own eye, I mean,” the boy blushed, to which the men burst out laughing, tension somewhat dispelled. With a grin he went on, “Your lord, Earl Eadwine, fled with him to the safety of his lands. With the Norse cing descending on us from the north we were cut off, we took ship and rounded the country to come here. My men and the sailors rowed all day to arrive here and are bone-tired. What are your instructions from Earl Eadwine, and more importantly where is our cing?”
Wulfstan tapped his fingers together, frowning. For a moment he said nothing, staring into Eadmund's eyes. At last he looked down, sighed, then back up again. “Don't be alarmed by what I have to say, my lord. Earl Eadwine's intentions changed about a week ago. It's been twenty—twenty-one?—days since the battle near Gegnesburh—”
“Twenty-two,” Eadward interrupted, shrugging apologetically.
“Twenty-two then,” Wulfstan waved his hand. “Twenty-two days it's been. It took Earl Eadwine about half a month to read the lay of the land, realize salvation wasn't forthcoming, that the best way would be to submit to the Norse cing.” Eadward and some of the others scoffed and muttered curses, but to be honest he wasn't too surprised. “Yes, yes, I know. Anyway no doubt he'll turn on the Norse with Godwine's return. I think the Hard-Ruler has many of his own countrymen to reward with lands and wealth, none will be left for my lord Eadwine. When Godwine comes back, Eadwine plans to do well from it.”
“When Godwine comes back—so he's gone somewhere, and you know where?”
Wulfstan nodded, took a gulp of ale. “Didn't see him myself, but word is Eadwine gave him good thegns and use of ships from Lonceaster, to reach Irland. This I heard but a few days ago, no idea where he went on the island but it's not so big. Eadwine can at least pretend to submit to Harold, naturally Godwine can't.”
Eadmund nodded slowly, rubbing the soft flaxen hairs on his chin and cheeks. His eyes looked hollow, but at least they weren't teary. “I had hoped to see my brother in a day or two. Still, it is not so far to Irland.” Wulfstan nodded knowingly, pulled his bowl back toward him. Gladdened by this new information, much better than being left in the dark, the others relaxed and dug ravenously into their meals.
An hour later night had fallen. The men had gone off one by one to find spots in the barracks, bellies warm and full, eyelids heavy. Some of the sailors slept too while others had gone down into the town to see if they could find a woman or two. The dining table and chairs in the hall were removed, replaced with a bed. “It's a small enough fort,” Wulfstan had explained. “This is the only real bed in the place, and it's mine...well, tonight it's lord Eadmund's.”
Only Wulfstan and Eadward still sat up by the embers in the kitchen. Whatever body part was turned away from the fire got cold fast, so they kept turning and shifting. “My God, no disrespect to our lord Eadmund, but I wish I was in that bed, and with one of the village girls under the covers. I know one down there, fat tits like a cow's udders. Beautiful.”
Eadward grimaced at the vulgarity, but he bore it. He had a feeling Wulfstan used humor when he was ill at ease. What was he hiding here? Wulfstan shifted his body, Eadward had to turn his head to see him with his one eye. Wulfstan coughed. “Honestly I would sleep now, I've been up and at it all day, but I've grown so used to a bed. I figure I won't be able to fall asleep at all unless I'm more tired.”
“Sensible,” Eadward nodded. “Reminds me of the aftermath of the battle. The Norse didn't beat us, but we did have to march carrying more than fifty pounds of supplies all day, with our bruises and wounds.”
Wulfstan sat, silent. He took a flask out of his coat pocket, a cousin of the coxswain's. He took a sip, grimaced, handed it to Eadward. “It doesn't sit well with me, the earl's turning cloak.”
“Nor should it,” Eadward shook his head, drank, gasped. “I can tell anyway, you are a man of honor.”
“Honor....” Wulfstan took the flask back. “Honor gets men killed, you know.”
Eadward shrugged. “Death in honor gets a man remembered, and the love of God in the hereafter. Life in dishonor is immeasurably worse.”
Wulfstan said nothing, took two sips. “I-I'd come with you to Irland, if you'll have me.” Eadward's eyes widened, he sat up straighter. What was this? He said nothing, only took the flask from Wulfstan and closed it. “I've said too much already.” Wulfstan made to stand.
Eadward grabbed his sleeve and tugged him down. “You haven't said anything untoward.” He patted the man's arm. “Come now, you'd truly honor us by coming to us with Irland?”
“Honor...you?”
Eadward nodded. “All the men in my lord Eadmund's service are honest. You would only add to our honor by being another honest man under arms with us. As Earl Eadwine has broken his feudal ties with England's rightful cing, I see no reason not to accept you.” Eadward stared into the man's face, silently begging the secret to come out.
Wulfstan looked down, then up, then down again, mouth working. “I—I—I have something to tell you...which you will not like. It's—just rumors, that I've heard, that one of the men here heard, understand. It's hard to credit, probably nothing, but...you...you know how our lord is....”
Eadward peered at the man, amazed at his emotion. Wulfstan's face was red as a beet, and he could not look Eadward in the eye. “By God, Wulfstan, what is it?”
“Ahem, it is, the rumor that is, is that Earl Eadwine somehow, ah, k-killed Cing Godwine, and—”
A crash and splintering wood. Eadward stood, heaving cold breaths. He saw his stool was gone. He looked back and saw heaped legs and the broken disc of its seat. A guard blundered into the room holding a spear in front of him. He stared at the two men, confused.
“Nothing, Aethelstan. My guest's stool broke. How many times do I have to tell you to keep everything here in good repair?”
Aethelstan blinked rapidly. “Uh, my apologies commander.” He rushed into the room and gathered the broken pieces. “I'll have it fixed up, and all the others checked.” The commander just nodded and Aethelstan hustled out, glad to avoid another tongue lashing. Now Wulfstan looked to Eadward.
“No!” Eadward breathed, still in shock.
“As I told you, a rumor, very hard to credit. Just a possibility, much as I hate to think of it. I didn't want to say anything in front of lord Eadmund. Even after knowing him five minutes I could tell, he loves his brother very much.”
Eadward nodded absently, eyes still wide. “They are no Cain and Abel. The very opposite. I've served the House of Godwine twenty years now and I can tell you, the only unfraternal one was Tostig, the traitor.” Eadward chewed his cheek, trying to absorb what he'd just heard. “Where is this man who heard the rumor? I must speak to him.”
Wulfstan shook his head morosely. “I overstepped my reach. I made inquiries with some reeves, abbots, and the like. Soon enough word got back to Earl Eadwine. A few days later the man was gone. Deserted or taken...I know not. For letting a secret out or spreading vicious gossip...I know not. I hope to God it is not true.”
Eadward stood, thought. “When was this, that you heard the rumor?”
Wulfstan shrugged. “Maybe a week after the battle. The battle was a Sunday, right? I know the man came to me after mass the following Sunday. He must have felt guilty with the information.”
“The battle was Monday, the day after, but no matter. Where did he hear the information?”
“I asked, but he could not say. I had a feeling he made it up, this man was a bit odd,” Wulfstan spread his hands. “What could I do, torture him?”
Eadward shook his head and passed his hand over his eyes. “What a blow you have dealt me, Wulfstan.” Eadward made his decision at that moment. This man would obviously serve well if he would reveal such information. “I will ask lord Eadmund for you to accompany us. I'm sure he will say yes. You are too brutally honest, and a true Aengliscman.” Eadward clasped his shoulder briefly in camaraderie. “Now get some rest, you have a lot of rowing to do tomorrow, and we'll make sure you pull your weight.”
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