HAROLD GODWINSON

The Last Saxon King

by Barry Upton

Due to be published at the end of 2023, here is a preview of the early chapter.

I know what they say of me.  All of them, even my own family.  That I am self-seeking.  That I am ruthless.  That I will stop at nothing to get my desires.  But their “ruthless” is my “determined”.  I have a solemn duty to ensure that this land of ours, this England, remains a Saxon land; that it will never again be subject to the whims and taxes of a foreign king.  We have had our share of Viking warlords.    I will fight them with the last drop of my blood.  We have had enough of their heathen ways.

And now there is talk of a Norman invasion, as if England deserved no better than a bastard Duke.  And all because of a promise made by a weak king in a moment of brain-fever.  No! It is time that England became what it truly is – a Saxon Kingdom.  And who better to bring it about, than a Saxon Earl; and am I not the best, the most noble and the bravest of them all?

Let them say what they wish to say.  Let them call me ruthless and self-seeking, but I am Harold, son of Godwin and I am destined to become King of England.

TIDES

– What makes the sea move?

It was a reasonable question from a young boy who grew up in the rolling hills.  My brothers laughed at the question.  Harold wasn’t even the oldest of us!  That was Sweyn.  But that never stopped him from acting as though it were he and not Sweyn who was the most senior.  He was seven years old when I was born and my earliest memories of him are of a sometimes kindly, but more often teasing older brother.  I saw little of Sweyn who seemed to spend much of his time in the company of local monks, memorising great chunks of the bible, even learning the skills of illustrated writing.  By the time I was old enough to explore the estates, learning to shoot an arrow, to kill a wild boar, to bring down a deer, Harold was already at the court of King Cnut.  Three of us, brothers by birth but not by inclination, all led separate lives: the church, the court and the estate.  There were times however when all three of us were together. 

I was still very young, five or six, I think, but I remember a visit to the wide-open stony beach a few miles south of our home at Senlac.

– It is never still.  It is like a strange and restless animal.

Sweyn made no reply.  He was alongside the King who had invited his loyal earls and his younger son to join the royal party.  Harold who was selecting stones to hurl into the water, watching them bounce on the surface.

– What a dolt you are, Sweyn.  The sea is not an animal.

I had him there.  Of course, it was an animal.  Look how it moved, how it roared.

– It is you who are the dolt, big brother.  What can it be if not an animal?  See how it moves; listen to the roars; feel its power.

But Harold wandered further down the beach looking for thinner and smoother stones.  I could hear his laughter coming back up the beach.  I felt my mother’s hand take mine and pull me back away from the water.   And she shouted across to Harold.

– Tostig is no different from you at his age, Harold.  Give him time to grow, to understand.

But Harold was out of earshot or pretended to be.  She brought me back up the beach and replaced my boots which I had removed earlier to keep them from the waves.  The king sat on a giant chair out of reach of the water.

– The king has asked us to join him, all of us.  He has a lesson for us.

King Cnut was a mighty man – or so he seemed to my childhood self.  When he was standing, he was head and shoulders above other men, and his strength was well chronicled.  His thick woolly beard and the crown perched above his brow made him twice as imposing and I always felt afraid in his company.  Father, Harold and Sweyn stood alongside him, among the other earls and their sons.  I wanted to tell them to move further back for the sea creature was getting ever closer.  I pulled at mother’s hand.

– Can the king not see what is happening?  The sea is getting closer and soon it will bite his toes.

This brought laughter from everyone, none louder than Harold, and I felt the colour rise in my cheeks.

– Be gentler with the boy. 

It was Cnut who had spoken.  I looked up at him and he beckoned me towards him.  Father had often spoke of the king; of how he was not an old man, but he would not live much longer.  He had travelled far and wide across the seas, even to the coronation of Conrad, the Holy Roman Emperor, to whom we said prayers every day.  All this travel, father had said, had weakened him, put a strain on his heart.  Soon the kingdoms would pass to Harthacnut, his eldest son who was in Norway attending to the rebels there.  Father had said that Harthacnut would make a good king, a strong brave soldier, unlike the king’s younger son Harold.  He has a reputation for running away.  I didn’t think running away was such a bad thing so long as he was a fast-footed runner.

– I am a king, Tostig, but I recognise the wisdom in your words.  This sea, this water creature has so much power.

– But you are a mighty king.  You have more power than anyone in this land, more power even than this creature.

– See how wise the boy is.  He recognises the power and greatness of his king.  I used this creature of his, rode on his back to this very spot where we stand.  I led an army of Vikings, two hundred ships and one thousand men, and became King of England.  And all on the back of this wild sea creature.

– If you ordered him to retreat, he would be too afraid to bite your toes!  You are king not just of England, but of Denmark and Norway too.

– And once of Scotland, but that is another story, eh, boy?

From Harold, I had heard the stories of Scotland.  The wild men from the north had raided again and again far to the north, and Prince Harold had led the English soldiers with little success.  Eventually the king had given up the claim he had.

– Who can resist you, mighty king?  Who can stand against you?

There was more laughter, until Cnut silenced it by raising his hand high.  The waves were creeping closer, and I looked at the King’s soft leather boots.  They would be ruined unless he ordered the sea to halt.  Slowly, sedately, majestically King Cnut stood.  He was a tall man, but his shoulders were a little bent, and his eyes showed something of the strain it must be to be a king.  He turned his back to the water and looked instead at the sea of faces

– The boy has guessed my purpose.  What wisdom comes from your boy, Godwin.

There was no laughter now.  And I felt proud.  Especially when the king told my father that I was wise.

– I have come to show you how powerful is your king. All of you stand behind me, a little way.  All except young Tostig.

He turned back to the water, stretched his hand out to me and I took it.  I know he must have felt the shaking, but he held it in his strong grip, and gradually I relaxed.  And all the time the sea climbed closer.  He saw my eyes looking first at the sea, and then at my new boots.

– What is it, boy?  Are you afraid that the king cannot halt this tide?  Are you afraid for your boots?

Then he dropped my hand and held both of his arms outstretched, towards the encroaching tide.

– You are subject to me, as the land on which I am sitting is mine, and no one has resisted my right to its lordship with impunity. I command you, therefore, not to rise on to my land, nor to presume to wet the clothing or limbs of your master.

I clapped my hands in delight.  Now we shall see the power of King Cnut.  This creature will have to turn back.  But the sea kept rising and drenched the king’s feet as well as my own.  Soon it was up to his shins, and I felt the water through the knees of my breeches. He took my hand again and together we walked backwards until we were out of reach.  I was dumbstruck.  I could say nothing.  And in that I was not alone.  No-one spoke.  This creature had advanced against the king without any retribution, showing no fear of his majesty.  Eventually we were on dry stones again, and the king returned to his throne which had been carried back onto drier ground.  The king stayed standing, turned to his prince and his earls and called out above the crashing sound of the sea behind him.

– Let all the world know that the power of kings is empty and worthless, and there is no king worthy of the name save Him by whose will heaven, earth and the sea obey eternal laws.

And it was Sweyn who shouted the first Amen.

As the son of an earl, whose family was kin to the king himself, I grew up in the midst of intrigue.  Harthacnut had not returned.  It was Harold who explained it all to me.

– And what is a regent?

– It is someone who rules in the king’s place?

– And Harold is the regent?

– Yes.

– Then who is the king?

– Harthacnut.  He is the eldest son of the late king, so he will inherit the title.

– But if he is not here…

– That is why Harold sits on the throne.  Until Harthacnut returns from Norway.

– And if he doesn’t return?

– That is a good question, Tostig.  For a young boy!

I had heard my father and brothers talk together.  When Cnut died, they had all assumed that the chosen heir, Harthacnut would become king in his place.  But he was still in Norway, fighting Cnut’s enemies.  They thought that Harold “Harefoot” was a poor substitute for his brother but because he was next in line there was nothing else for it.  I heard what they said, and remembered it, but at the time it seemed confusing.  Father took me on his knee and tried to make it clear, but he was too impatient for my questions, so it was left to brother Harold.

– We are Saxons, descended from a long line of noble families, and now our family sits amongst the highest in England.  We are loyal to our king, of course we are, for they give us the power.  But we want this country of ours to return again to its Saxon roots, and we are the family to do it, when the time comes.

– But kings are born to rule, is that not so?

– It is, little brother, but it doesn’t have to be.  It would be better if the wise men of our country, The Witan, took the decision for themselves, so that we are not left with an absent king and a weak regent in his place.

I understood the words, but their meaning was not at all clear then. 

There were regular meetings of Wessex earls. They came to our house in Senlac and talked long into the night, long after I was in bed, but the mornings were often full of the discussions that had been held, and I picked up morsels, like crumbs spread on the table.  Harefoot had been made king, after two years of waiting for his brother to return.  It seems that the same seas that had brought his father to power had brought his stepbrothers to fight against him.  My father had stood by the king – however unsuitable he was – and in a fierce battle, the rebels were beaten back into the sea and those that survived fled across it back to Norway.  Alfred, one of the king’s stepbrothers was captured by my father, and he was brought to Ely where he begged mercy from the king.  Blinded and dying of his wounds, Alfred’s body was thrown into a ditch, as a clear lesson to others who might try to seize power. Edward, the dead prince’s brother had escaped and sailed to join his mother, Queen Emma at Antwerp where he would be sheltered.  It was not uncommon for the king to summon my father to court at Westminster.  I remember one such time, when Harold and I accompanied him.

– So, Godwin.  It is you I must thank that I still sit safe on my throne and English men and women rest easy in their beds.

– We earls of Wessex have always been loyal to our king.

– And in return you have profited much.  You have risen to be among the greatest in the land.

– We are loyal, and we receive the king’s gifts as reward for our constant, unwavering support.

– Then I have a task for you.  I will follow my father sooner than I had hoped.  I have had a premonition of my own death, and I want to be sure England remains with my father’s blood.  There are many abroad who will seek to take the kingdom from us. King Magnus of Norway, or Edward, son of Edmund Ironsides, with the support of Harald Sigurdsson.  And others lick their lips across the sea.  Find my brother.  Tell him England needs him at home.  He must take his rightful place as king when I am dead.

Later, in the bedroom I shared with my older brother, I wanted to know more.

– I thought father didn’t like this king.

– It is not about liking or not liking, Tostig.  You will come to understand this.  We must retain our place in the world, keep our power in England.  And most importantly, keep the Northern invaders away.  Our father is Kingmaker.  It is in his hands.

I was beginning to understand how things worked.  I was, after all, nearly ten now, and I was learning fast.  Harold Harefoot was only king because my father and others like him had supported his claim.  Better a fool in England than a warrior abroad, is what my father had said.

My brother sailed for Norway.  He was going to meet Harthacnut; his mission was to bring the true king back to England.