This is my first aar so please be kind folks, I hope you enjoy it.
I am using CKDV with the Improvement pack installed.
I am using CKDV with the Improvement pack installed.
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Chapter One
The Shock of Defeat
part one
Christmas Day 1066
The coronation was over and the crowds had begun to leave the cathedral, the dead bodies had been largely cleared from the streets and doorway, a bloody accident brought about by overzealous guards startled by the cries of the acclamation. Wulfnoth stepped across the threshold into the sunlight and blinked, the sky was clear and though it was bitterly cold the sun beat brightly down; it would, in other circumstances he supposed, be a lovely winters day. He looked about him at the city, London, capital of England, the city of his birth nonetheless, it was good to back in London, to be back in England, he had dreamed of just such a return frequently over his fifteen years as a hostage in Normandy, fifteen years captivity as a surety of his brothers word; yet his brother was dead now, all his brothers were dead now, and the man who had killed them was anointed and shortly to sit upon the throne that had been Harold’s.
Harold.
Wulfnoth could hardly remember him, they had spoken briefly two years before when Harold had crossed to Rouen to try to negotiate for his freedom, the negotiations had failed, Duke William would not countenance the loss of such a valuable hostage. They had spoken briefly but his brother was like a stranger to him, gone was the man he had known, quick to laughter or a jest, the man Wulfnoth had spoken too was hard, unyielding, as if all the softness had been warred out of him. Wulfnoth wondered whether his brother had already taken the decision to make a bid for the throne when King Edward died, even then in 1064.
For all the good planning had done him, dead on Senlac, crushed beneath Norman warhorses, Leofwine and Gyrth around him slain; if I had been in England would I too be dead on that hill? Wulfnoth thought, if I had been in England would the day have gone differently, would my brothers be still alive?
“Excuse me my Lord” a voice interrupted his thoughts, “ but are you the Lord Wulfnoth, son of Godwin?”
Wulfnoth turned and stared at the man, no more of a boy, who was addressing him, the lad was thin and clean shaven, or perhaps he had not yet grown his first beard, he seemed to be of sixteen years in age; Wulfnoth did not recognise and the boy spoke French with an accent, heavy and northern, from his speech Wulfnoth could tell he was a Saxon. “Yes, that is I” he replied, “and you are?”
The boy bowed, “I am Estmond, son of Eadwin the Earl of Mercia, I have been sent as my father’s representative to the coronation, my father and uncle, that would be Morcar, the Earl of Northumbria, have yet to present themselves and wish assurances of their safety before they come south, so they sent me. I’m a hostage I suppose now if nothing else, so we have that in common.”
A forward youth this one, Wulfnoth thought, “a pleasure to meet you Estmond Eadwinson” he said, “and your reason for seeking me out?”
“Estmond leaned forward conspiratorially and said in a low voice, “I bring news of your family, those who survive, and words of encouragement from my kin, the house of Leofricson acknowledge only one true ruler of England, and that is your brother’s infant son, Harold, we shall play the loyal noble to the Bastard until the time is right for the restoration.”
“And why would your family be so loyal to mine?” asked Wulfnoth suspiciously, he knew too well the ways of the Duke of Normandy, this could be some trick to ensnare him in some alleged treason, a convenient excuse for his execution.
The youth smiled, “you may not have known, but my aunt, Ealdyth, was married to King Harold, they had three children together, two legitimately, twins born not long before Harold’s death, Harold and Ulf they are called, nephews to my father and uncle, cousins to me, rightful heirs to England’s crown.”
It made sense, by God it made sense, Wulfnoth was caught by a terrible desire to trust the boy, to place his life in the hands of the northern earls, and above this a longing to hear who of his kin he had left, to know that he was not the last of his family. “You said you had news of my relatives?”
Estmond nodded, glancing around to ensure no one was within earshot he said, “yes, the house of Godwin alas has been scattered to the four winds, King Harold’s twin boys are in Ireland, safe for the time being, their sister is in Denmark with my aunt; your brother Tostig too had children, two boys Ketil and Skuli, strong lads I am told, they are with the Ynglings in Norway. But they will be brought to England eventually, when it can be done safely, and you yourself taken north.”
Taken North! To be free of the Norman, to be with his brothers son’s! “Myself taken north? But I am watched night and day by the Dukes men.”
Estmond smiled slyly, “yes, but I am not merely a hostage, no I am more then that, and part of my purpose here is to get you free and heading north. Trust me Wulfnoth, all will be well.”
With another smile Estmond walked away and merged with the crowd. Wulfnoth watched him go but his was lifted, he had something that he had not truly had for fifteen years and something only that morning he thought he never would have again; he had hope.
The Shock of Defeat
part one
Christmas Day 1066
The coronation was over and the crowds had begun to leave the cathedral, the dead bodies had been largely cleared from the streets and doorway, a bloody accident brought about by overzealous guards startled by the cries of the acclamation. Wulfnoth stepped across the threshold into the sunlight and blinked, the sky was clear and though it was bitterly cold the sun beat brightly down; it would, in other circumstances he supposed, be a lovely winters day. He looked about him at the city, London, capital of England, the city of his birth nonetheless, it was good to back in London, to be back in England, he had dreamed of just such a return frequently over his fifteen years as a hostage in Normandy, fifteen years captivity as a surety of his brothers word; yet his brother was dead now, all his brothers were dead now, and the man who had killed them was anointed and shortly to sit upon the throne that had been Harold’s.
Harold.
Wulfnoth could hardly remember him, they had spoken briefly two years before when Harold had crossed to Rouen to try to negotiate for his freedom, the negotiations had failed, Duke William would not countenance the loss of such a valuable hostage. They had spoken briefly but his brother was like a stranger to him, gone was the man he had known, quick to laughter or a jest, the man Wulfnoth had spoken too was hard, unyielding, as if all the softness had been warred out of him. Wulfnoth wondered whether his brother had already taken the decision to make a bid for the throne when King Edward died, even then in 1064.
For all the good planning had done him, dead on Senlac, crushed beneath Norman warhorses, Leofwine and Gyrth around him slain; if I had been in England would I too be dead on that hill? Wulfnoth thought, if I had been in England would the day have gone differently, would my brothers be still alive?
“Excuse me my Lord” a voice interrupted his thoughts, “ but are you the Lord Wulfnoth, son of Godwin?”
Wulfnoth turned and stared at the man, no more of a boy, who was addressing him, the lad was thin and clean shaven, or perhaps he had not yet grown his first beard, he seemed to be of sixteen years in age; Wulfnoth did not recognise and the boy spoke French with an accent, heavy and northern, from his speech Wulfnoth could tell he was a Saxon. “Yes, that is I” he replied, “and you are?”
The boy bowed, “I am Estmond, son of Eadwin the Earl of Mercia, I have been sent as my father’s representative to the coronation, my father and uncle, that would be Morcar, the Earl of Northumbria, have yet to present themselves and wish assurances of their safety before they come south, so they sent me. I’m a hostage I suppose now if nothing else, so we have that in common.”
A forward youth this one, Wulfnoth thought, “a pleasure to meet you Estmond Eadwinson” he said, “and your reason for seeking me out?”
“Estmond leaned forward conspiratorially and said in a low voice, “I bring news of your family, those who survive, and words of encouragement from my kin, the house of Leofricson acknowledge only one true ruler of England, and that is your brother’s infant son, Harold, we shall play the loyal noble to the Bastard until the time is right for the restoration.”
“And why would your family be so loyal to mine?” asked Wulfnoth suspiciously, he knew too well the ways of the Duke of Normandy, this could be some trick to ensnare him in some alleged treason, a convenient excuse for his execution.
The youth smiled, “you may not have known, but my aunt, Ealdyth, was married to King Harold, they had three children together, two legitimately, twins born not long before Harold’s death, Harold and Ulf they are called, nephews to my father and uncle, cousins to me, rightful heirs to England’s crown.”
It made sense, by God it made sense, Wulfnoth was caught by a terrible desire to trust the boy, to place his life in the hands of the northern earls, and above this a longing to hear who of his kin he had left, to know that he was not the last of his family. “You said you had news of my relatives?”
Estmond nodded, glancing around to ensure no one was within earshot he said, “yes, the house of Godwin alas has been scattered to the four winds, King Harold’s twin boys are in Ireland, safe for the time being, their sister is in Denmark with my aunt; your brother Tostig too had children, two boys Ketil and Skuli, strong lads I am told, they are with the Ynglings in Norway. But they will be brought to England eventually, when it can be done safely, and you yourself taken north.”
Taken North! To be free of the Norman, to be with his brothers son’s! “Myself taken north? But I am watched night and day by the Dukes men.”
Estmond smiled slyly, “yes, but I am not merely a hostage, no I am more then that, and part of my purpose here is to get you free and heading north. Trust me Wulfnoth, all will be well.”
With another smile Estmond walked away and merged with the crowd. Wulfnoth watched him go but his was lifted, he had something that he had not truly had for fifteen years and something only that morning he thought he never would have again; he had hope.
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Chapter One, Part two
Leinster, Ireland
Early 1067
“Is that the man then?” asked Tadhgd Duhghaill, scratching his bearded chin thoughtfully, “he doesn’t look like he has the bollocks to try
such an obvious act of defiance.”
Maelcolm Horsehair, captain of the Lords guard replied swiftly, his urse flavoured by his scotch upbringing, “nonetheless Lord spymaster, that is the man, he was found in the nursery of the young lords, a naked seaxe in his hand, his arm raised to gut the boys; lucky my men came in when they did.”
“Yes lucky that,” Tadhgd mused, “very fortuitous one might say, almost providential, a random check on the princes was it?” He let his tone hint at the hidden meaning behind his words.
“Well as to that” Maelcolm said swallowing deeply, he paused and sighed before continuing, “well as to that it was less a random search then it was...” he paused again, “...then it was that witch woman that the Lord seems so fond of.”
Yes, Tadhgd thought, the witch woman, she had been much in his thoughts of late, she greatly troubled him; men whispered that Lord Diarmait heeded too much of the counsel of this mystic, that her word, or rather her dreams were taken to much to heart. Had he not been so loyal to the word of his lord then Tadhgd would have longed to be done with her, to kill her if needs be. How he wished that that woman had never been found washed up on the shores of Ireland; Vanamo she said her name was, and whence she came from she would not speak. “Say no more of her” Tadhgd said, “I would not use my breath upon such matters.”
Maelcolm nodded, “as you say my lord, but nonetheless she dreamed that the boys were in danger and so they were.”
“Enough” Tadhgd said sharply, “do we have any more against this man, what is he called, what is his lineage?”
“He claims to be Breton, name of Conan son of Bohemond; I don’t think he’s lying, he has been with your men for near enough a whole day now, I doubt he would even conceive of lying.” Maelcolm coughed, “excuse me, a chill is upon me, not soon enough to spring I say. When we searched his rooms we found several large bags of Norman silver coins, it seems to me that this was his payment for the deed.”
“Has he given the name of his employer up to us yet?”
“He has my lord, he says he was paid the coin by a man in Cornwall who called himself FitzOsbern, on the orders of Duke William by all accounts. He had received half the payment and was due to get the rest after the deed was done and he returned to Cornwall. “
“We have everything we need of him then, have him sewed into a sack and thrown of the cliff, best to get rid of him at once.”
“Yes my Lord” Maelcolm said and took his leave.
Tadhgd frowned and left the dungeon, he was troubled indeed, only by some great twist of fortune had the children been saved, and he had charged with their protection. Leinster was not safe enough for them, they couldn’t remain here. He made his way to the Lord’s quarters and knocked on the door.
Entering he found Lord Diarmiat, seated by the fire, a cup of wine in his hand though he was not drinking from it. Without turning around Diarmiat said “I know why you are here Tadhgd.”
Bowing low Tadhgd approached his lord and said, “my noble Lord, if you know this then you know what I am going to say.”
“Yes I know and I cannot do it. I will not turn those children over to the Norman, he would kill them both, have no doubt about it.” Diarmiat turned in his seat to look at his spymaster, “yet also I know that I cannot keep them here, you have not failed in your duty Tadhgd, no man could keep those children safe here if they were wanted dead.”
“Then my Lord, why not give them up? Surely it cannot be just their lives that concern you, noble as that would be surely my lord is motivated by more pragmatic concerns.”
Diarmait smiled, “yes it is true I have more concerns.” He rose and crossed to his desk, from a drawer he pulled a parchment sheet. “This in my hand” he said “is a letter from Earl Eadwin of Mercia, uncle to those boys, he is preparing the ground for their return and ultimately the crowning of the eldest one, of Harold, as King of England after the deposition of the Norman usurpers. In return for my support now, he offers me an extensive earldom in the new England, Cornwall, Devon, and Exeter to do with as I wish. This is too great a prize for me to turn down, however much it might cost me now.”
It was indeed a great prize, a large earldom in a wealthy kingdom, it would be enough indeed, Tadhgd reasoned, to tip the balance in Ireland, enough to enable Diarmait to make himself himself high king.
“But” Diarmait went on, “they cannot be kept safe here, nor can they yet return to England. So I am sending them to the Isle of Man, to be kept at the court of my vassal there, it is a safe place far from the Norman kings meddling, closer to Lancaster and the English supporters, none may enter the island without permission if the ports are guarded well. From their they shall be raised into instruments of my enrichment, and their kingdoms redemption.”
“A good plan my lord.”
“It is isn’t it, but they shall not be going alone, you shall accompany them, there is no man in the world I would trust more with their safety then you.”
“I thank you most gracious Lord.”
“But you shall have a familiar face with you as well. I have decided to send Vanamo to Man with you, she has proven herself interested and valuable in the preservation of those children. You all leave in two days.”
Tadhgd’s blood ran cold, how could he tell his lord that he believed that it was the Vanamo woman who was the greatest source of danger to the princes? How could he explain his concerns when he didn’t understand entirely even himself? He could say nothing other then what he did say and swallow all his doubts as he did so.
“It shall be as my lord commands” he said.
Leinster, Ireland
Early 1067
“Is that the man then?” asked Tadhgd Duhghaill, scratching his bearded chin thoughtfully, “he doesn’t look like he has the bollocks to try
such an obvious act of defiance.”
Maelcolm Horsehair, captain of the Lords guard replied swiftly, his urse flavoured by his scotch upbringing, “nonetheless Lord spymaster, that is the man, he was found in the nursery of the young lords, a naked seaxe in his hand, his arm raised to gut the boys; lucky my men came in when they did.”
“Yes lucky that,” Tadhgd mused, “very fortuitous one might say, almost providential, a random check on the princes was it?” He let his tone hint at the hidden meaning behind his words.
“Well as to that” Maelcolm said swallowing deeply, he paused and sighed before continuing, “well as to that it was less a random search then it was...” he paused again, “...then it was that witch woman that the Lord seems so fond of.”
Yes, Tadhgd thought, the witch woman, she had been much in his thoughts of late, she greatly troubled him; men whispered that Lord Diarmait heeded too much of the counsel of this mystic, that her word, or rather her dreams were taken to much to heart. Had he not been so loyal to the word of his lord then Tadhgd would have longed to be done with her, to kill her if needs be. How he wished that that woman had never been found washed up on the shores of Ireland; Vanamo she said her name was, and whence she came from she would not speak. “Say no more of her” Tadhgd said, “I would not use my breath upon such matters.”
Maelcolm nodded, “as you say my lord, but nonetheless she dreamed that the boys were in danger and so they were.”
“Enough” Tadhgd said sharply, “do we have any more against this man, what is he called, what is his lineage?”
“He claims to be Breton, name of Conan son of Bohemond; I don’t think he’s lying, he has been with your men for near enough a whole day now, I doubt he would even conceive of lying.” Maelcolm coughed, “excuse me, a chill is upon me, not soon enough to spring I say. When we searched his rooms we found several large bags of Norman silver coins, it seems to me that this was his payment for the deed.”
“Has he given the name of his employer up to us yet?”
“He has my lord, he says he was paid the coin by a man in Cornwall who called himself FitzOsbern, on the orders of Duke William by all accounts. He had received half the payment and was due to get the rest after the deed was done and he returned to Cornwall. “
“We have everything we need of him then, have him sewed into a sack and thrown of the cliff, best to get rid of him at once.”
“Yes my Lord” Maelcolm said and took his leave.
Tadhgd frowned and left the dungeon, he was troubled indeed, only by some great twist of fortune had the children been saved, and he had charged with their protection. Leinster was not safe enough for them, they couldn’t remain here. He made his way to the Lord’s quarters and knocked on the door.
Entering he found Lord Diarmiat, seated by the fire, a cup of wine in his hand though he was not drinking from it. Without turning around Diarmiat said “I know why you are here Tadhgd.”
Bowing low Tadhgd approached his lord and said, “my noble Lord, if you know this then you know what I am going to say.”
“Yes I know and I cannot do it. I will not turn those children over to the Norman, he would kill them both, have no doubt about it.” Diarmiat turned in his seat to look at his spymaster, “yet also I know that I cannot keep them here, you have not failed in your duty Tadhgd, no man could keep those children safe here if they were wanted dead.”
“Then my Lord, why not give them up? Surely it cannot be just their lives that concern you, noble as that would be surely my lord is motivated by more pragmatic concerns.”
Diarmait smiled, “yes it is true I have more concerns.” He rose and crossed to his desk, from a drawer he pulled a parchment sheet. “This in my hand” he said “is a letter from Earl Eadwin of Mercia, uncle to those boys, he is preparing the ground for their return and ultimately the crowning of the eldest one, of Harold, as King of England after the deposition of the Norman usurpers. In return for my support now, he offers me an extensive earldom in the new England, Cornwall, Devon, and Exeter to do with as I wish. This is too great a prize for me to turn down, however much it might cost me now.”
It was indeed a great prize, a large earldom in a wealthy kingdom, it would be enough indeed, Tadhgd reasoned, to tip the balance in Ireland, enough to enable Diarmait to make himself himself high king.
“But” Diarmait went on, “they cannot be kept safe here, nor can they yet return to England. So I am sending them to the Isle of Man, to be kept at the court of my vassal there, it is a safe place far from the Norman kings meddling, closer to Lancaster and the English supporters, none may enter the island without permission if the ports are guarded well. From their they shall be raised into instruments of my enrichment, and their kingdoms redemption.”
“A good plan my lord.”
“It is isn’t it, but they shall not be going alone, you shall accompany them, there is no man in the world I would trust more with their safety then you.”
“I thank you most gracious Lord.”
“But you shall have a familiar face with you as well. I have decided to send Vanamo to Man with you, she has proven herself interested and valuable in the preservation of those children. You all leave in two days.”
Tadhgd’s blood ran cold, how could he tell his lord that he believed that it was the Vanamo woman who was the greatest source of danger to the princes? How could he explain his concerns when he didn’t understand entirely even himself? He could say nothing other then what he did say and swallow all his doubts as he did so.
“It shall be as my lord commands” he said.