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CHAPTER ELEVEN – THORNS WITHOUT ROSES

(Winchester, England, June 4, 1066)

Groaning in pleasure as the harlot Alaise de Mauny serviced him with her usual skill King Harold imagined Ealdgyth Swanneshalles providing him the intense delight of the French art plied by the seasoned foreign strumpet, his anger at Lady Ealdgyth’s recent actions mitigated by his unquenchable lust for her. As King Harold obtained his considerable peak, a knock came at the door to the royal bedchamber followed by William Malet’s cautious entrance into the rather distracted sovereign’s presence. Averting his eyes courteously, Malet saluted King Harold and informed him regarding the arrival of Bishop Wulfstan of Worcester for emergency counseling in wake of Lady Tilaflaed’s untimely murder, and the revelation of the exiled Earl Tosti as her and Princess Gwendolyn’s brutal dispatcher.

“Excuse me, my lord. You wanted me to inform you when Bishop Wulfstan had arrived. He is waiting to see you. Shall I show him hence, or tell him you’re ah, preoccupied with important matters of state?” Alaise de Mauny giggled, her dark eyes shining with salacious amusement as she rose from her knees and wiped her mouth and chin with cloth set upon a nearby table next to the bench where her and Harold’s clothing had been lain. Winking at William Malet she waved to the Norman, greeting him with a genial and somewhat embarrassing familiarity.

“Bon jour, Monsieur Malet! Mon Dieu, but it’s been quite awhile since we last enjoyed each other’s company, hasn’t it? I must say, my lord, I’ve yet to encounter another client capable of attaining as many peaks as you in harness, save perhaps His Majesty here, you are as matched a set of roaring horns as ever I’ve encountered in over ten years practicing of Venus’s torrid trade! Please give my warmest regards to your nephew Roger. Oh, and tell him if he’s still inclined to engage in ménage a trois and enacting the role of both sexes during such a congress, I’ve a new wench for him to meet, at the usual location. The price will be extra but the pleasure well worth the additional expense, I assure you. And lest I forget, my lord William, I’ve recently purchased a special dual-headed implement of Greek nature I believe will inspire you to obtain new heights of physical rapture, if I do say. Shall we make an appointment now or do you prefer to wait until later to contact me, mon cher ami?” William Malet blushed and gestured for Alaise de Mauny to cease discussion of such delicate matters before the King, the latter contemplating Malet with an intrigued curiosity as Alaise winked at Harold licking her lush scarlet lips and rolling her eyes in lascivious fashion as she began dressing in preparation for departure. When Alaise was ready to leave she held out her hand to Harold for payment, requesting a sum the King held as exorbitant to the indignant whore’s immediate and profane protestation.

“That will be two thousand shillings, mon seigneur. As agreed, oui?” King Harold frowned and shook his head at the outrageous price demanded, regarding the avaricious harlot with great resentment. Alaise de Mauny’s smile vanished at Harold’s balking, her face clouding with irate hostility at such unexpected reluctance.

“Two thousand, Madame? I think you’re overestimating the worth of your services a little, I daresay, as for that excessive amount I could purchase the pleasure of an entire Southwark stew! However as not to seem unappreciative of your gifts, Alaise, I’ll part with five hundred shillings for your labors. Generosity’s the prerogative of every Christian sovereign after all, be it for sex or for salvation’s sake.” Alaise de Mauny crimsoned and unleashed a torrent of abuse at Harold, her fists clenched and her teeth bared. The King withstood Alaise’s vulgar barrage with amused indifference, sharing a knowing glance of familiar contempt with a grinning William Malet.

“Va te faire foutre, Anglais connard de merde! Who in the hell do you think you are to cheat me, Godwinesson, you accursed fils de pute, by Christ and His saints, all of you cochons Anglais are naught save cheap inverts who can barely lift their standards without first having to ram their fingers up their filthy arses! Tu me fais chier, pousse-crotte encule, foutre le camp, un pete-sec! Sale con de merde, tu peux te le foutre au cul! If you think you can renege upon an arrangement with Alaise de Mauny, varlet, your head is truly up your arse along with your damned cock, fool! No man cheats me, no man! You’d best pay up at once, lest I take your family’s fortune with me to hang upon a tree as public warning to your fellow Anglais etrons! Now, Godwinesson, or you will most sorely rue the day you exposed that swinging sovereign staff in my presence, I promise you!” King Harold laughed, bowing in a mock-gesture of accommodation to the incensed whore. Turning to William Malet with a wry smile Harold indicated Alaise should be paid in full before departing, taking her hand and kissing it in a gallant smirking fashion. Alaise eyed King Harold with jaundiced satisfaction, lifting her hand to make an obscene motion to Harold as she left him to receive her fee from the royal purse.

“Very well, Madame, sheathe your claws and keep your fangs to yourself. Two thousand it is. Malet here will pay you from my privy coffers. Good day, Alaise, and keep that tongue of yours tart, for I’m certain I’ll be summoning it forth again to transport me unto rapture’s realm soon enough. William, show Madame de Mauney out and bring in Bishop Wulfstan. Oh, and has Belgifu arrived from Bosham to make report to me regarding my daughter young Gytha’s condition?” William Malet nodded, waving for Alaise de Mauny to accompany him for a full payment. King Harold donned his garments in preparation for his conference with the prelate, an old and trusted family confidant the Godwines often turned to in moments of crisis such as now faced the beleaguered monarch.

“As you command, sire. And yes, Belgifu’s arrived, but I must say something seems strange about the wench like she has some great tiding to unveil. A word of warning if you will. I’ll be back with Bishop Wulfstan in a minute.” King Harold finished dressing and sat on the edge of his bed, musing over Malet’s meaning and the additional trouble it implied, his expression wan and wistful. William Malet then returned with a tall thin cleric of seventy years, his thick beard white as winter snow and his large gray eyes bright with warmth and wisdom. Bishop Wulfstan of Worcester embraced King Harold with fondness as he had done since Harold and his siblings were children, eager as ever to offer the Godwines his assistance in their latest adversity.

“Ah, Hal, it’s good to see you again, my son. Please accept my heartfelt sympathies for such terrible loss of your dear and virtuous kinswoman Tilaflaed, and your fair stepdaughter Princess Gwendolyn, may Almighty God have mercy upon their poor souls. And of course I’m very sad that the responsibility for their odious slaughter must rest with Earl Tosti, heaven help him. You don’t seem to be having much luck with your family relations since you became sovereign, alas. Please, Harold, tell me how I may best serve you in this dark hour of most urgent need.” Harold just smiled and gestured for Bishop Wulfstan to be seated at a nearby table, disappearing into the royal wardrobe to fetch a flagon of wine and two cups. Upon returning the King sat across from the old and esteemed cleric, pouring for himself and Wulfstan as he began their conversation.

“True, my dear old friend. Between Edith’s malicious machinations, Aldgyth’s treachery, the estrangement between me and Ealdgyth, Mother’s ancient scandal being exposed, and now Tosti demonstrating himself as an even more despicable beast than even his worst foes would’ve dared imply, it’s indeed an understatement to observe the present division within the house of Godwine as being unprecedented. However, I’ve called you here to receive your venerable perspective on certain decisions events of late have now prompted me to embrace, decisions I feel confident will yield positive results for this kingdom and my family ere long. Your cooperation will prove key to the success of my current ventures, noble Wulfstan, a cooperation I feel no need to fear might be withheld.” The Bishop nodded in affirmation, raising his cup in earnest display of his desire to assist Harold. The King reciprocated, quaffing deeply to Wulfstan’s slight concern.

“You might want to take care in your drinking’s pace, Hal. You’ll need to keep your head to confront the manifold challenges before you, God knows. And of course I’ll do whatever I can for you, in accordance with reason and conscience.” King Harold grinned and took another sip of wine at Wulfstan’s qualified reply, his expression ruefully amused. Bishop Wulfstan waited to hear the King’s brief with disciplined but rising tension, sensing he was about to be rendered privy to some unsavory royal ruminations.

“Reason and conscience, Bishop? The first thing one realizes when one assumes a crown is that neither of those exalted concepts bear much relevancy to the necessary conducting of one’s practical statecraft. When has any monarch legitimate or not failed to find his best and prudent shields to be expediency and dissembling, pray? One doesn’t rise to become Caesar without a fair number of hostile right arms being struck off, nor an imposition of sovereignty’s sanguine severity on one’s own kin if such proves resistant to proper homage’s rendering. Is not this so, my lord Bishop?” Wulfstan felt a thrill of dreadful anticipation tremble his aged frame at King Harold’s pointed conclusion, wary of responding without due consideration and caution. After a few moments the concerned and conscientious cleric endeavored to gently refute Harold’s rather cynical declaration, observing to his growing anxiety the look of fixed resolute indifference that Harold evinced in evident reaction to Wulfstan’s rebuttal.

“With all respect, Hal, I believe you’re overstating the case owing to your admitted difficulty of personal circumstances. After all, your immediate predecessor managed to reign in Christian fashion, for the most part, as have many other upstanding sovereigns of history, and our modern era. Morality and monarchy aren’t as remote and irreconcilable as your adverse experience may suggest, Harold. Of course, a conscious and consistent effort to retain one’s sense of integrity is critical to the human let alone political success of any royal character, in particular when dealing with such doubtless daunting dilemmas as those you now face. You must trust in your own true heart, Harold, which represents the sublime voice of God within your nature. Do not allow any mantle of mere worldly power to corrupt the more worthy majesty of your mortal soul’s natural estate. Remember the ancient wisdom, veritas vos liberabit. “The truth shall set you free,” my son, if you’re sage enough to accept it and then act according to the light of its better judgment.” King Harold answered Wulfstan’s advice with sarcastic skepticism, draining his cup and quick refilling it to imbibe further. The Bishop received Harold’s tart retort with tranquil equanimity, determined to guide the troubled monarch to the path of higher grace.

“The truth, Wulfstan? Let’s review it as it now stands, shall we? My mother’s an adulteress and murderess whose actions have steeped me in illegitimacy’s sordid disgrace, my sister hates me and has labored restlessly to confound and undermine me in every way at every turn, I’ve a treasonous brother who’s a butcher of women and two wives I’m at odds with, one of whom is surpassing of Jezebel in her evil harlotry and deceit, another brother is at this instant mad from grief and a sister-in-law abroad is engaged in my wanton slandering, and the fine Christian you mentioned, my esteemed royal predecessor? It was with his deliberate contrivance I was made the pawn of grasping foreign ambition, it was by Edward Aethelredsson’s wicked collaboration with his bastard cousin that England is now left thus imperiled and my own sovereign standing subject to such damaging controversy as to permit the possibility of armed invasion landing on its shores! And that’s not the very worst that sanctimonious old varlet has deigned wrought by his vicious malice’s foul feting as I shall imminently inform you, Wulfstan! The truth? I shall tell you the plain God-cursed truth of matters, my good Bishop! To date I’ve been surrounded and assailed by bristling thorns without roses but God as my witness, Wulfstan, I’m resolved to now pluck the baleful biting briars from my bones and cultivate my garden anew in the image of fabled Eden, casting the loveless leeches of loathsome familiarity unto the fires of lethal justice! Mark me well when I say I shall spare neither kindred head nor crowned cunt my stern dispatch to restore peace and respect unto my house, even if the Godwine tree’s left sundered of blighted branches!” Bishop Wulfstan raised his hands in an attempt to calm the agitated Harold, hopeful still of persuading the distressed and embittered sovereign to heed reason’s enlightening clarion. Harold glared at Wulfstan in stubborn sullen resentment, his emotional intensity augmented by alcohol’s inflammatory influence.

“Please, Hal, I pray you, don’t make rash decisions in haste. You don’t want to worsen the predicament before you, remember. What your house and the realm require now most of all is unity in the face of external enemies, and igniting civil contention surely won’t help that cause. Better to employ reconciliation through forgiveness and understanding, I believe, than to cling in false pride and bitter inflexibility to a fruitless stance that can only weaken yourself and England at the most critical instant in your fortunes, perhaps with fatal consequences.” Harold responded with disgust to Wulfstan’s pious entreaty, gulping more wine and hurling the emptied cup to the floor. Bishop Wulfstan frowned, vexed at Harold’s display of temper but poised enough not to react in an antagonistic fashion.

“To hell with forgiveness and understanding, Bishop! I’ve a kingdom to defend from being usurped by false pretenders assisted in their base efforts by traitors on my own ground and I’ve neither time nor any inclination to turn my already raw cheeks to the blows leveled against me! Therefore, I’m ordering you to Dover, where you shall inform my sister Edith she is to be tried on capitol charges of treason, adultery, conduct unbecoming a royal consort, and accomplice to murder, with the sentence of death attaching to all guilty verdicts. If the queen dowager wishes to avoid the scandal and potential doom of such legal proceedings Edith shall need to admit her culpability in encompassing my past compromising by the Bastard of Normandy and to forging the testament in her late husband’s name currently in circulation nominating Earl Tosti as King Edward’s royal heir. Edith will sign a formal statement and make a public declaration that will establish me unequivocally as Edward’s chosen inheritor and she shall also retract all her other charges recently laid against me as being completely invented and insubstantial. That’s Edith’s final choice, Wulfstan, full cooperation or condemnation. Save your implorations to reason for her, if you will.” The Bishop gasped, unable to conceive of Harold truly proving serious in his ultimatum to his own sister, an anointed Queen of England. Desperate to sway Harold against such irrevocable and devastating folly Wulfstan reminded the glum brooding monarch of how such fateful action could serve to harm the King and England as much or more than Edith.

“Harold, you’re not making any sense! You cannot put Edith on public trial, it’s unheard of, and it would only raise more problematic issues than it would ever resolve, mark me! If Edith’s actions and motives are placed under such a damning scrutiny, your own sins would likewise be subject to a similar examination, to no good end for you, your family, or this kingdom! Do you want to have your own perhaps less than moral policies of the distant and recent past put under glass of possibly incriminating inspection, do you? Remember, your enemies would delight to unearth every privy skeleton you’ve taken pains to bury these last fifteen years or so, Hal, and the damage of such evil exercise wouldn’t be limited to your own person! Think of your dear children, Harold, and of your duty to England and its noble reputation ere you embark on any careless course of public discrediting regarding your own blood, lest the injuries inflicted fall upon you to England’s ultimate expense!” King Harold scoffed at Wulfstan’s plea, unmoved. Rising from the table to pace about in aggravated indignation, Harold reiterated his decree of merciless intent concerning Queen Edith, his tone harsh and cold with pent vengeance.

“My mind is quite set in this, Bishop. Edith has undertaken to impose grave evil upon me, and England, with deliberate criminal malice. So far as I am concerned, her hour of supreme payment for such willful malignancy’s at hand unless she repents and accommodates me as I demand. If my sister obliges me, I’ll allow her to retire in relative honor and peace to Wilton abbey for the duration of her natural span. If Edith does not submit, however, I swear by Our Lord Christ the only further indulgence I shall grant her is perhaps to be beheaded rather than hanged upon conviction. Nemo me impune lacessit, Bishop. I shall not be denied, by anyone, for by God’s grace and my own merits I am the King, and so I shall remain if I need feed the fertile fields of our great country with the scarlet deluge spurt from its adversaries’ severed veins, foreign and domestic! That’s my last word upon the subject, Wulfstan. Don’t try to dissuade me further.” Harold’s quoting of Scotland’s royal motto inspired Bishop Wulfstan to query the King concerning the fact of Earl Tosti’s enjoyment of a safe refuge at King Malcolm’s court, implying it would be an injustice to indict Edith as an alleged facilitator of Tosti’s slaying of Tilaflaed on the word of Tosti’s captured henchman, Copsi, a disreputable character whose testimony would be steeped in certain controversy owing to his desire to survive, and eager willingness to perjure himself for sake of his skin’s undeserved sparing. Harold smiled in a smug fashion as if he had some covert guarantee no doubt would attach itself to Edith’s culpability.

“Since you’ve deigned refer to our neighbor to the north, Hal, may I ask what steps are being taken if any to secure Earl Tosti’s repatriation to us so he might be made to accept responsibility for his own atrocious action? In my view and I daresay much of England’s and all Christendom, it would be held a violation of proper decency and legality for Edith to suffer the stigma of such condemnation for complicity in Tosti’s barbarous crime solely on the word of a third party who will be perceived as having at best indirect, and perhaps false intelligence regarding her alleged awareness and approval of her brother’s abominable butchery, and who will be seen as a villain in his own right willing to advance the most outrageous lies to redeem himself from the penalty for his criminal service to Tosti. If you’d demonstrate yourself a sovereign of true justice, then you must endeavor to bring the known murderer of Lady Tilaflaed and Princess Gwendolyn to account or else you’ll be regarded as punishing Edith for the sins of a brother she might in fact be blameless for.” King Harold sat down at the table after retrieving the cup from the floor, an amused expression of anticipation on his face. Refilling his receptacle Harold then informed a shocked Bishop Wulfstan of his success in garnering his outlawed brother’s imminent surrender by his sovereign Scottish counterpart.

“You needn’t fear my brother shall escape justice in this instance, Bishop. I’ve sent word to King Malcolm regarding his sheltering of Earl Tosti and we’ve made an amicable arrangement of great mutual profit. In exchange for yielding Tosti to my custody, I’m wedding my daughter Gundrada to young Prince Malcolm, offering the duchy of Northumbria as her dowry. Also, I have requested Queen Ingiborg approach her uncle Harald Hardrada as an intermediary for me so I can obtain one of the Norseman’s daughters as my next royal consort. Once I attain my divorce from that whore Aldgyth, I’ll join my house to Norway’s and seal the formal alliance between us against the Bastard. Let’s see how well the prospect of confronting my Huscarls and the veteran berserkers of Hardrada sits with Duke William and his nobles. Not bad maneuvering, is it, good Wulfstan?” The elderly cleric whistled in appreciation concerning the scope of Harold’s cunning, impressed by the King’s encompassing design. Harold flashed a broad grin of self-satisfaction at Wulfstan’s reaction, but it faded when the Bishop presumed to raise a few questions regarding its possible frustration.

“Indeed, Hal, it seems your strategy wants for little in its inclusive character. Still, you must exercise due wariness considering whom you’re dealing with. King Malcolm and Lady Ingiborg always look to their own interests, and even if Malcolm honors his bargain by surrendering Tosti and accepting Gundrada, you may just be purchasing more trouble than it is worth by bestowing Northumbria upon a Scottish prince. Remember, it would be easy for Malcolm to establish your daughter at court and then allow Tosti to make a convenient escape, foiling you with that brazen impunity you and he boast immunity from suffering. Also, it may not please Hardrada to permit his daughter to become your new wife, as I’ve heard he is considering pressing his own claim on this realm’s sovereignty in accordance with the formal agreement struck between his predecessor Magnus and Harthecanute. I’ll wager Tosti’s petitioning Malcolm and Ingiborg to provide him safe passage to Oslo as speak, that he may appeal to Hardrada’s belligerent nature and ambition in order to set the Norseman against you and Normandy alike. And so far as divorcing Aldgyth goes, Harold, that’ll be easier imagined than actualized, I fear. She is duly crowned, and won’t yield her royal position without a serious battle likely resulting in a most savage and protracted civil war. And of course she carries your heir, at least according to her account of matters. It’s said Aldgyth’s put a bounty of a thousand shillings upon the head of her Welsh captain, so who knows if Morgan ap Meurig will long survive to cast Aldgyth in the damning role of adulteress? Not to mention the fact her brothers Morcar and Edwine possess considerable power to support the Queen, as does Lady Godiva. I’ve heard whispers Godiva is reaching out to Lady Agathe’s faction to form alliance against you, in event you attempt to take a new bride. No, Hal, it won’t be easy to realize your grand strategy’s accomplishment, and indeed I daresay the odds are well against its coming to fruition, I regret to observe.” King Harold reached across the table to grip Bishop Wulfstan’s arm, his tone abruptly intense in demanding. Wulfstan received the King’s fervent admonition with curiosity, intrigued by Harold’s unusual resort to superstition.

“My plan can and will succeed, Wulfstan, if you tender it an official endorsement of divine attribute, old friend. And all you have to do is employ your pulpit at Worcester to inform your credulous congregation concerning the appearance of certain entities to you in dreams for sake of imparting you heavenly instruction regarding the righteousness of my reign and the iniquity of my enemies. I intend to speak with other high prelates of the land, Bishop, to persuade them it would be in their best interests and that of the Church in England to afford me full cooperation in preserving this realm’s independence by acclaiming me unconditionally to be the one true choice of God to serve as this devout nation’s consecrated sovereign. That varlet Stigand will demur of course, but if enough of your clerical brethren back me, Wulfstan, I’ll be able to depose the dog as he’s long deserved and install a far better and holier individual to sit in England’s highest see. Who knows, Wulfstan? My choice could fall upon you, Archbishop of Canterbury.” Wulfstan flushed at the outright cynical corruption displayed by King Harold and rejected his proposition with unhesitating ferocity. Harold darkened at the Bishop’s sanctimonious scolding, regarding Wulfstan with scornful resentment.

“You’re truly your dissembling and impious sire’s creation, Harold Godwinesson, if only by crafting influence rather than natural crimson, by the sacred crown of Our Savior! I’d expect a proposal as devious and profane as that you’ve deign advance from the immoral genius of Earl Godwine, but I would have held you to a much higher standard of dignity and integrity, Harold. Besides which, since when have you any use for the employment of such supernatural agencies to further your private agenda? You’ve always scoffed at the popular notion of ghosts existing to haunt and advise the living, haven’t you, unless some recent experience as yet unelaborated has led you to reconsider such hitherto robust skepticism? Well, has it, Hal?” The King scowled at Wulfstan’s implication, at first declining to reply. After a few moments, however, Harold arose to resume his prior pacing clearly divided regarding some inner secret’s unburdening. Wulfstan stood and went to the King, placing a hand upon Harold’s shoulder in a gesture of encouraging impetus to speak. Sighing, Harold turned to face the Bishop, wary but willing.

“It’s true what I have heard then, Harold. About the visitations that are said to have plagued you at Corfe castle during your interview with Lady Agathe. And King Edward did utter a dark prophecy before death, didn’t he, my son? Please, Hal, you know you may confide in me. Tell me what happened, so I may counsel and comfort you in the full light of proper understanding.”

Harold hesitated, but was about to relate his troubling encounters with spirits and the ominous forecast of King Edward when a knock came at the door, followed by the urgent entrance of a quite excited Roger Malet. Surprised to see his sister’s betrothed the King bid the youth make a quick and complete report.

“Roger! I’d not expected to see you today, lad. May I assume Aelfgyva’s with you, or is she still tending to my daughter with Lady Ealdgyth? What’s the matter, young man, you seem as if aflame with some strange agitation. What’s wrong, has something happened that I should know about? Speak, Roger Malet, what’s occurred to bring you so animated into my presence, tell me, boy, now!” Roger Malet took a deep breath before responding to the King’s dictate, his face all pale with anxiety. Harold and Wulfstan waited upon Roger’s word, tense in anticipation.

“My lord Harold, your Excellency, I … Two reports of equal, if perhaps opposing importance await your attention. The first one concerns your wife and daughter, sire, the Lady Ealdgyth and young Gytha. They’re … gone, your Majesty. Belgifu and Aelfgyva are here now to explain the purpose behind their flight abroad, a secret journey that in all frankness I must admit I’ve helped facilitate for very good reasons, I assure you. The second – Ah! My lord Harold, please! Let me continue, it’s imperative!” King Harold seized Roger Malet by the front of his scarlet tunic and shook him in outraged indignation, requiring Bishop Wulfstan’s immediate intercession to spare Roger the brunt of Harold’s wrath. Standing firm between the irate sovereign and the trembling Norman with his hands outstretched to maintain their distance, Wulfstan advised King Harold to rein his anger while admonishing Roger Malet to complete his assignment with due haste.

“Peace, Hal, don’t waste your energy in chastising a mere messenger, control yourself so you may learn the full details behind what young Malet tells you! And you, Roger, tell us what else you have to say, and be swift in it ere His Majesty proves beyond my capacity to restrict further!

Go on, boy, speak, and report upon that other tiding of significance you bear.” Roger Malet did as Wulfstan decreed, careful to stay well out of range of Harold’s temper. The King stewed and glared at Roger Malet with intimidating displeasure, his heart furious with betrayal.

“Thank you, your Excellency. The other intelligence I have to advance is related to the first, but a development of total spontaneity on the part of whom it concerns. It seems Lady Agatha, your betrothed of two years past, sire, she’s … here. At Canterbury, it’s said, under the formal protection of Archbishop Stigand. She arrived with an attendant just yesterday for what reason precisely no one has yet revealed. Of course one can speculate intelligently regarding the girl’s purpose under the circumstances and the Archbishop’s I daresay, but the fact is the daughter of Duke William is now established upon English soil, doubtless to your ultimate advantage, sire, wouldn’t you say?” King Harold gasped at the word of Agatha’s presence in his kingdom and trod about the bedchamber, lost in thoughtful calculation concerning how he might profit from the unauthorized exchange of critical pawns. Bishop Wulfstan sought to emphasize a positive perspective regarding events, hopeful that war between Harold and his rivals might now prove avoidable given the bold actions of women from both sides of the Channel.

“It’s often said that God gives and takes in equal measure, Hal, but in this case the Almighty I believe has deigned in His divine wisdom to bless you and Duke William alike without depriving either of you anything, thank heaven! By grace of these simultaneous travels across the sea upon the parts of your inspired kinswomen respectively, the possibility of a peaceful resolution of your differences has now been abruptly renewed, if both of you are noble enough to place the interests of your realms above your own personal ambitions! Be grateful for this sublime intervention and seize its fleeting opportunity to engage in negotiations that shall serve to guarantee a tranquil and prosperous coexistence between England and Normandy, Harold, I implore you! If you fail now to grasp the slender thread afforded you by these unexpected but potentially golden endeavors of Christian gentlewoman avid to preserve their men from battle’s mortal judgment, the folly be on your head, and Duke William’s, Hal, I warn you!” King Harold halted to contemplate Wulfstan with what the old cleric hoped was sincere sober consideration. The King then indicated for the Bishop and Roger Malet to accompany him for conference with Belgifu and Aelfgyva.

“Come with me, please. We mustn’t keep my wife’s woman and my good sister waiting.” As the Bishop and Roger followed after Harold, they exchanged a passing glance of mixed emotion, neither knowing how Harold would react to events. Proceeding down a long stairway leading to a winding corridor the trio arrived before the entrance to the royal palace’s Great Hall, climbing the small set of steps to pass through the large oak door into the vast central chamber where the Lady Aelfgyva and Belgifu sat patient at one of the many tables within, with an angry William Malet hovering about looking at them with extreme disapproval. At King Harold’s appearance William Malet approached and saluted, offering Harold earnest apology for the role his nephew had played in effecting the secret departure of Ealdgyth and young Gytha from Bosham.

“I’m truly sorry, Harold, for my nephew’s foolish involvement in Lady Ealdgyth’s departure from England without your knowledge or permission. I didn’t know of it myself until Belgifu’s arrival with Roger and Aelfgyva to reveal the guarded fact of her mistress’s covert sailing to the Continent. Ealdgyth’s played us all for fools it seems out of a misguided faith she could bargain for peace with Duchess Matilda upon your and England’s behalf. Well, at least we’ve Agatha to balance the board, so to speak. I can have the girl removed from Canterbury and bring her hence if it pleases you, my lord, that you might speak with the ardent young maid to discover how best to utilize her presence here to your greatest profit, and pleasure, perchance.” King Harold smiled in cold stirring at William Malet’s lascivious insinuation, recollecting how ripe Agatha had been for sensual plucking at their last brief encounter. Bishop Wulfstan reminded Harold he couldn’t violate Agatha’s sanctuary at Canterbury without risking grave consequences.

“With respect, Harold, if you’re considering Agatha’s forcible excision from Stigand’s private custody, I’d reconsider. Sanctuary is not to be transgressed upon lightly, least of all when it’s the Primate of all England who’s granted it to the young lady. Better to send a trusted emissary for a formal interview with the girl in demonstration of a due deference to ecclesiastical and moral law than yield Stigand and your enemies yet another means by which to impugn you, correct?” King Harold reflected upon Wulfstan’s sound counsel and nodded in agreement. Declaring the Bishop his envoy Harold dispatched Wulfstan to Canterbury for the purpose of Agatha’s assessment, and her deft lawful extraction from Stigand’s grasp.

“A most wise and prudent suggestion, Excellency. Very well. I decree your immediate travel to Canterbury as my personal intermediary. Talk to Agatha and get a fair sense of her. Learn her expectations so I may be enlightened as to how best manipulate her for my own purposes. I seem to recall hearing somewhere that if a person enjoying sanctuary can be moved to request removal from such sacred protection, or, if they can be proven endangered rather than shielded by such an arrangement, the sanctuary may be lifted without legal or moral repercussions. Knowing Stigand I’m certain you’ll have no problem establishing his alleged protection as being a menace to Lady Agatha, and thereby manage to convince the girl to abandon Canterbury for my secular embrace in short order. Thank you, Bishop. I’ll expect to receive a favorable report from you in about a fortnight, or thereabouts. Good day, Wulfstan, and God speed.” The Bishop started to speak in protest at the embassy, but decided to accept the assignment out of desire to ensure all propriety was upheld regarding the question of Agatha’s ultimate residency and possession. As he started to withdraw Lady Aelfgyva approached and hugged him, inquiring about his health and a rumor she’d heard concerning recent occurrence at his see.

“Good day, Excellency, it’s so pleasant to see you again. How fare you, my lord Wulfstan? You look well. Tell me, is it true what I heard about the foundling girl left at the door to your church in Worcester the Sunday before last? How scandalously intriguing! Do you have any notion as to the identity of the parents, my lord? I’d heard the infant was swathed in a woolen cloak implying of a possible noble lineage. Can you confirm this, Wulfstan, and offer me any further details regarding the incident, perhaps?” Before the Bishop could reply King Harold’s stern edict insisted upon the cleric’s hurrying to his mission at Canterbury to Lady Aelfgyva’s vexation. Aelfgyva glared at Harold with sullen resentment, wary of provoking her brother’s anger but at the same time inclined toward calculated defiance.

“His Excellency doesn’t have time to waste trafficking in idle gossip with you, ‘Gyva. He’s the crown’s vital business to conduct at Canterbury. You, meanwhile, have much explaining to do, I daresay. However, I’ll begin by hearing Belgifu’s doubtlessly ingenious rationale for her recent facilitation of treachery against me. So, Madam, tell me. Why shouldn’t I throw you in a cold dark cell at Dover, where your orifices may be stretched to impose rueful remorse upon you for earning my displeasure by your devious treasonable action?” Belgifu confronted King Harold without qualm, her calm confidence impressing Harold by its firmness of conviction. Producing a bound parchment from her gown’s pocket Belgifu handed it to the King for perusal, explaining Lady Ealdgyth’s motivation for journeying abroad with young Gytha and setting forth the terms her mistress had instructed her to deliver to Harold plainly admonishing him against interference with Ealdgyth’s endeavor.

“There’s no treason involved in Lady Ealdgyth’s enterprise, my lord. Your good wife merely takes practical advantage of an unsolicited offer of personal conference with Duchess Matilda of Normandy for the sole purpose of averting an unnecessary conflict between realms over a crown not held by either noblewoman to be worth its weight in gold let alone gore. My lady tenders an apology for her alas unavoidable obscurity of intention, Majesty, but points out your own attitude of implacable stubbornness concerning policy regarding your contention with Duke William and the best means by which to mitigate against Normandy’s anticipated hostility left her little choice in the matter. Ealdgyth opposed young Gytha’s enforced nuptials with Emperor Henry, as Gytha herself did, and my mistress had no desire to bear chronic witness abroad to her daughter’s great conjugal unhappiness while you perchance lost sovereignty and skin to needless war’s gruesome toll, thus when Matilda’s offer of a meeting to discuss a potential peaceful union of houses came her way, Lady Ealdgyth lost no time in determining to garner the most of the unique opportunity fortune had granted her.” Harold unrolled and scanned the parchment with a crimson expression of angry indignation, casting an accusatory glance at Aelfgyva who blushed and then averted her gaze. Belgifu continued with her report, her tone growing irritating in its smug condescension to King Harold’s incensed perception.

“According to the source that heard Matilda’s proposal first elaborated at Witham manor the Duchess offers her eldest son Robert as a husband to young Gytha, in exchange for Ealdgyth’s willingness to advance Matilda’s daughter Agatha to you as your next royal consort. Ealdgyth wishes you to understand however that though she accepted the Duchess’s invitation she has no intention of relinquishing her status as your proper wife. Thanks to the critical information our source has supplied her with regarding Duchess Matilda and her less than immaculate past Lady Ealdgyth is confident she’ll prove able to elicit major concession from the Duchess and thereby secure an arrangement guaranteeing of truly lasting peace between England and Normandy. My mistress therefore entreats you not to attempt to impose any hardship or undertake any effort to frustrate her present embassy, Harold. If you fail to heed Ealdgyth’s admonition, I ought warn you she’s given me orders to make public certain unsavory facts regarding your prior relations with Lady Matilda your own kinswoman Lady Aelfgyva witnessed, and will confirm, without hesitation. The ultimate decision of course rests with you, my lord.” King Harold frowned in offended exasperation at Ealdgyth’s presumptuous ultimatum, quite skeptical of her prospects and fearful for the safety of Ealdgyth and his daughter in Norman custody. Turning to query Aelfgyva, whose blush deepened under the smoldering stare of her aggravated brother, King Harold motioned for his sister to step aside for a private conference, Aelfgyva obliging Harold in tenuous fashion, her anxiety and vigilance intense.

“What the hell is going on here, ‘Gyva? Is this how you repay my intercession on your behalf concerning the wicked accusations of that slut Bionda in the confessional, regarding your alleged sexual indiscretions with her? When that lecherous priest attempted to extort you into his bed on threat of exposing your supposed Lesbian exploits with the little tart, and you came weeping and wailing to me to forestall your reputation’s ruining by such a false but sensational lie, did I spurn your hysterical petition, did I, sister? You were terrified Roger Malet would be repulsed by your implied perversion, proven or not, and disavow his passion and engagement with you, you feared you’d be left with no alternative but to seek obscurity behind cold and lonely convent walls to be spared the ignominy of vulgar public gossip and innuendo should you be so much as tainted with the salacious brush of Sapphic scandal! I helped you without question or delay, didn’t I, sister, I accomplished that lewd priest’s swift banishment and sufficient chastisement to remain silent on the subject and consigned your accuser to the contemplative confinement of Wilton under severe restriction, didn’t I, “Gyva? I supported you in your hour of crisis, and I seem to recall a vow of yours not long hence promising me a similar reciprocation of fair allegiance. Yet here you stand, prepared to abrogate such solemn oath and assist in my sovereignty’s outrageous flouting by my own wife’s mortifying defiance. So again, Madam, I ask you. What the hell do you think you’re about here, damned ungrateful wench?” Lady Aelfgyva bristled, embarrassed by the resurfacing of her suppressed episode of misinterpreted intimacy, and furious to be upbraided by Harold for following her conscience in tendering righteous support to Lady Ealdgyth in her valiant exercise to prevent a war between England and Normandy. Shifting from one foot to the other Aelfgyva proffered King Harold a shallow self-serving in his estimate though Aelfgyva held it rational and acceptable given the prevailing circumstances and the perceived difference between the situation she’d faced and that Harold had created through his mistreatment of Lady Matilda.

“Damn it, Hal, you cannot compare my aiding of Ealdgyth or your defending of me against a vicious lie’s imperiling of my virtue with what you did to Lady Matilda, the moral gulf between your actions and mine is completely impassable! I had every right to protection from the wicked perjury spread against me by Bionda, and the menace that degenerate Father Gervais represented by his sordid ultimatum of carnal submission, and I helped Ealdgyth take flight for your sake and England’s, not for my own personal profit! What comparable rationale can you give for abusing Matilda in such an odious and underhanded fashion as you did, right before my appalled eyes? I swore that I’d support you, Harold, true, but not at the expense of my dignity and integrity, and I never said I would lie for you, never! If I’ve foiled your plans, well, then they deserve to be thus frustrated as just compensation for Matilda’s unwarranted suffering at your hands!” Harold made to respond but Aelfgyva denied him such prerogative, her complexion crimson with a fierce fury as she lashed out at him in aroused indignation. The King decided to let Aelfgyva’s spiteful rage vent itself in full ere he answered it as her spoiled outburst merited.

“You held me unto no firm promise of unconditional reciprocation when last you assisted me, brother! Indeed, I think you only helped me to avoid a public injury to the family and your own precarious position, and not out of any abiding sentimentality for me! You think I‘m some naïve child you can bully and manipulate, a timid wench you can maneuver like some helpless pawn in your incessant scheming for power, but I’m not, Harold, and neither is Lady Ealdgyth! If you’d seen her face when Aelffrid delivered Matilda’s diary in which the Duchess had chronicled your foul mistreatment of her, along with the unsavory details of manifold mortal sins terrible in their cold fact’s revelation, Hal, you’d tremble to confront your good Lady ever again, having broken her heart through the plying of Edward the Exile’s covert murder at Matilda’s unwilling hand by means of that nefarious assault it was my great misfortune and shame to observe! How you live with yourself is an absolute enigma to me, Harold, but don’t imagine for a moment you’re going to make a haunted ruin of my conscience as you have your own for I’ll have none of it, you hear, none, never, never!” Harold stiffened at such withering excoriation, and grabbed Lady Aelfgyva hard by the right arm, squeezing her slender limb until she cried out and sank upon one knee in anguish and apprehension. Roger Malet advanced in alarm at the King’s deliberate excruciation of his beloved, but William Malet moved to intercept him, waving him back in stern warning to not attempt Aelfgyva’s extrication.

“I’ll tell you precisely what you will and will not have, young lady, or else you can join your Aunt Edith at Dover, in company of all the rest of those fool enough to dare thwart my pleasure! You’re my sister, a Godwine, girl, and as such you owe instant and absolute obedience unto me as this family’s head, understood, and as the sovereign of this realm as well! You’re now going to serve me exactly as I command you without question, Aelfgyva, or I swear you’ll spend your days in solitary mourning for your sacrificed happiness deep in the bowels of a dark comfortless cloister! Now, regarding this diary of Matilda’s. You say Aelffrid brought it to Bosham to give to Ealdgyth, and that it contains description of crimes committed by the Duchess? Where did it come from and what evils are documented within its pages, pray? And what did Lady Ealdgyth propose to do with the incriminating testament? Speak, sister, or your arse will be saddled for a trot to the convent at once!” Belgifu interceded for Aelfgyva, easing her from Harold’s panging grip and replying to the King’s queries in her blunt candid fashion. Aelfgyva rushed to the arms of Roger Malet, who held her close as she shook and wept, contemplating Harold with bold and intense animus.

“If you please, my lord, I can report Aelffrid stated Lady Judith had originally yielded her the Duchess’s diary for covert presentation to Lady Torfrida, most likely as a measure of protection in the event Judith found herself subject to her sister’s possibly hostile whim. The tome records a fair number of serious moral trespasses encompassed by Matilda, including the murders of her husband’s mother Lady Arlette, her royal uncle, King Henry the of France, and Count Geoffrey of Anjou. There’s also a mention of her having disposed of a certain Cardinal Ugolini while in Rome some years ago after having engaged in adultery with him, and possibly Robert Guiscard.

In addition, she apparently colluded with Lady Torfrida in ridding the latter of her first husband just as Laura de Fiennes now maintains. Countess Biota is indicated as another of her criminal accomplices, lending credence to the rumor of Matilda being liable for the deaths of Biota and Walter after the Norman annexation of Maine. We were all quite shocked at the revelations of Matilda’s villainy but Lady Ealdgyth, to her credit, perceived the diary as a practical lever for securing vital concessions from the Duchess, hence the agreement to confront Matilda on her native soil. I can assure you, Harold, Ealdgyth’s agenda in sailing abroad is entirely unselfish. She wants only what’s truly best for you, your family, and England. Peace with honor, if you will.” King Harold sighed, walking about the Great Hall in brooding analysis of the situation. William Malet inquired as to location of the conference and regarding the proposed means by which young Gytha and Lady Agatha were to have been exchanged in wake of any agreement’s accomplishing. He also asked Belgifu to articulate how Ealdgyth intended to employ the diary safely to extort critical acquiescence to her demands from the Duchess, his own knowledge of Lady Matilda’s character filling him with dreadful foreboding regarding the feasibility of such a dangerous audacity’s embrace.

“If you please, Belgifu, where is this meeting between Ealdgyth and Matilda to transpire and how were young Gytha and Agatha to switch countries? I presume Agatha’s current arrival was not timed as her mother or Ealdgyth anticipated, correct? Also, I’m curious to comprehend how Ealdgyth thought Matilda’s diary would be used to obtain the Duchess’s kneeling to her demands as my own personal experience of the Lady Matilda bids me inform you that for your mistress to have even assumed she’d prove successful in plying the Duchess’s extortion demonstrates a very perilous ignorance of Matilda’s person surprising in light of their prior acquaintance. Trust me, I know Maud, if Ealdgyth tries to enforce her to render concessions on pain of her past’s exposure, the Duchess will send Madame Swanneshalles back here in bits floating upon the tide, and place young Gytha in a brothel to suffer the ignominious consequences of her mother’s mortal mistake. In my estimate we must be ready to launch a rescue endeavor in event Ealdgyth incurs Matilda’s displeasure, or else find some way to induce Ealdgyth to terminate her embassy of her own will ere it concludes in damning disaster.” Harold stopped pacing at William Malet’s sober counsel, shaking his head in silent rueful concurrence. Belgifu answered the Norman directly, trying to disguise the wave of acute trepidation that had enveloped her at William Malet’s discouraging assessment of Ealdgyth’s prospects.

“As I understand it, lord Malet, the conference shall take place on the holy ground of Fecamp abbey for the security of my mistress. Your own kinswoman Lady Beatrice shall be present, and in event of firm and fair consensus between Ealdgyth and the Duchess, assume responsibility for young Gytha’s guardianship until Lady Matilda can arrange transportation for her daughter from Fecamp, after the girl has been returned there from the safe custody of her grandmother the Lady Alix of Ghent. At least this was the strategy I was informed of prior to this day’s sudden altering of plans. Lady Judith was to greet Ealdgyth in her sister’s company as well and I can but assume that’ll prove quite uncomfortable for our estranged kinswoman in view of Judith’s responsibility for apparently stealing the Duchess’s diary for doubtless hostile purposes. As for my mistress’s precise intention regarding the utilization of Matilda’s diary to achieve her ends, all I was made to know was that Ealdgyth was inclined to employ possession of the diary and knowledge of its contents as a last resort, not her primary tactic of negotiation. She doesn’t underestimate Lady Matilda by any means, I can assure you. I thought the chances of concord’s happy attainment to be good, but now, in light of Agatha’s early appearance upon our shore, I don’t know what is to be expected, truly. Perhaps you may be right, my lord Malet. Maybe we must consider how it will be possible to redress my mistress’s well-meaning but imperiling misstep ere it results in a terrible fate for her, and her daughter.” King Harold expressed agreement with the opinions of William Malet and Belgifu and unveiled his ingenious and shocking strategy to capitalize upon Agatha’s unexpected possession in a manner that would render Ealdgyth’s mission accomplice to his agenda. Lady Aelfgyva gasped at her brother’s devious design, being unwillingly involved in Harold’s duplicity in a fashion both dangerous and to her mind utterly deplorable.

“You’re both quite astute in your reckoning of the situation, and fortunately I’ve conceived of a proper plan to institute for the sake of encompassing our stated objective. Aelfgyva, you are to sail to Normandy in the company of one of my envoys, and upon reaching Caen deliver to Duke

William a private message concerning Matilda, his good wife. You shall inform the Bastard that soon his fair daughter shall be wed unto my son Edmund and that my sister Edith and Earl Tosti will be brought to trial shortly upon capitol charges. For my part I’ll make certain to send word to Ealdgyth and the Duchess regarding your mission. That should bring their little tete-a-tete to an abrupt end, yes? Oh, and you can tell the Duke I have his wife’s attendant safely in custody as I do the same for her mistress. I trust you understand your mission and are prepared to serve your house and country without any reservation, sister?” Aelfgyva paled and then reddened at Harold’s cold and heartless imposition of such onerous duty on her, but before she was able to articulate her immense indignation and vociferous objection to being employed in such a base and despicable manner, Roger Malet begged the King to grant his accompanying of Aelfgyva, swearing she would obey his order. Aelfgyva stared at her betrothed speechless, perplexed at Roger’s craven display of meek accommodation and resentful of his presumption to speak on her behalf. Roger Malet ignored Aelfgyva, resolved to protect her, and their romantic fortune from Harold’s spiteful malice.

“If you’ll be so kind as to allow me to escort Aelfgyva to my homeland, Majesty, I assure you she will prove herself your good servant, and England’s, on my solemn word as a gentleman, my lord. Come, Aelfgyva. We’ve a journey to prepare for, ma cherie.” Aelfgyva started to protest, but Roger Malet seized the outraged Englishwoman and swift clamped his hand over her mouth, virtually dragging her from the Hall and an amused King Harold’s proximity. Belgifu observed the scene with contemptuous disapproval, unable to resist sarcastic commentary concerning the King’s disreputable conduct.

“Your sire Earl Godwine can rest a bit easier, Harold. As of this moment the distinction he’d held as being the most egregiously self-serving bastard this poor land or indeed any other has yet produced now passes to you, and I doubt you’ll need fear its yielding in the near or distant future.

If it pleases you, your Majesty, I’d like to go now. I have the Lady Ealdgyth’s business to attend to if you don’t mind.” King Harold bowed low in a mock-courteous fashion, directing Belgifu to wait for William Malet’s escorting ere she departed. Belgifu curtsied, wary but compliant.

“Of course, ‘Gifu. Please wait for William Malet to see you back outside, I’d like a word with him first. Thank you.” At Belgifu’s withdrawal Harold issued orders to William Malet regarding both the attendant’s disposal, and his selection of an appropriate ambassador to accompany Lady Aelfgyva abroad. William Malet laughed at Harold’s choice, appreciating its tart inspiration.

“Take Belgifu to Dover and have her confined with the rest of those who’ve betrayed me, and I’ll make certain word reaches Ealdgyth concerning the wench’s fate. Then I want you to inform Brihtric Meaw I’ve a special assignment for him. I’m sure he’ll prove most eager to undertake a mission that reunites him with Matilda, his maiden harlot of bygone days, don’t you? Roger can go along as well, but must defer to Brihtric at all times, as must my good sister. You’ll make my will clear to all concerned, William. When Wulfstan returns here with Agatha from Canterbury, I’ll want you present to ease the girl’s anxiety through the reassurance only a fellow countryman can provide. I’m quite certain she’ll be inclined to speak more freely before you as well. I want to know everything possible about the plans of the Bastard and his cunning consort, so I may be empowered to deal their hostile intentions a final decisive blow. That’s all, William. You may go and thank you for your unwavering loyalty.” William Malet saluted but tarried in the King’s presence, contemplating him with cautious curiosity. Harold discerned Malet’s sentiment, and nodded in permission for his lieutenant to give it voice.

“You know Prince Edmund’s harboring great animus against you for the way you’ve treated Ealdgyth and has vowed in public to avenge his mother’s sore abusing. He’s also engaged unto Lady Gladthryth whom he sincerely loves. As a favor, Hal, tell him of your decree yourself. If he hears it from me or anyone else hell will come to England in a hurry, and I’m in no great rush to burn.” Harold flashed a wan grin at William Malet’s wry advice and gazed in a nearby mirror. For a fleeting instant Harold beheld the image of his father or so it seemed, such a deceptive and disturbing distortion of identity deepening the dilemma of Harold’s divided soul and driving the tense sovereign to pursue anew the profane solace afforded by public sex’s easy purchase.

CHAPTER 12