If news came of a raid, even if it was just a single boat with a few men creeping in, looking for gold cups and virgins, he would answer it. His reeves and thanes across the country knew he would forgive them a great deal – but not if he heard they’d ignored a call of that kind. If they had only six servants, they were expected to ride out in arms. A single bonfire on a hill might bring forty or sixty men from miles around. It helped to bring us peace, I think, that we came so quickly with iron in our hands.
Edgar seemed to spend his life riding north and south and everywhere his fancy took him. Every king I have known has taken a court and a council around the country. It is the only way to remind some folk they are ruled at all. Yet I swear Edgar was never out of the saddle. He and his most dangerous thanes were all whip-thin, like the hunting hounds he took out whenever a good stag or a boar was reported. For news like that, the king would pay a gold coin, so half the country kept a lookout for him – either for Vikings or for deer.
On one such trip, the king cornered a pack of wolves against a fallen tree they could not leap. He’d been roaring and galloping after them, and suddenly there they were, jumping right at his horse and making the beast rear in terror. That had been deep in Wales and he decided that very night on a novel scheme. From that point on, he offered to excuse the Welsh the gold they dug from the mines each year, in return for four hundred head of wolf. The Welsh lords shook his hand and I am sure those men were delighted by that bargain. Though he was their feudal lord, they did not pay him another penny for twelve years.
There were fewer wolf attacks after that, which is all he’d wanted. In a sense, Edgar had paid the Welsh to make their own roads safer, though they should have done it themselves. As I say, he was a clever king. There was a reason he was known as Edgar the Peaceful – though it was for his reign, not his own manner. If you’d met him, you would have looked away from those cold, grey eyes. Edgar was not a man to cross. I knew that after what happened to his great friend, Allwold, in the sixth year of the king’s reign.
I had met Allwold many times, though I did not know him well. As archbishop, I had a vote on the Witan council and I was jealous of my right to it, after so many years gazing in from the darkness. I put my name to witness laws and deeds and new thanes made by Edgar’s hand. I understood Allwold to be a loyal fellow, a friend of the king’s from years before, perhaps even from childhood by the way they talked and laughed. Allwold was not a clever man, however, not at all. He was as sword-thin as the others Edgar trusted, but there was very little actual thought in him.
I felt no envy of that friendship. I would like that to be clear. Edgar had given me more than I had ever dreamed of as a boy, so that my life had become three parts ritual and incense, with staff and palaces available to me. Even the king rose as I entered a room. Of course, I knew Edgar showed respect to the Church I embodied rather than the man, but it was still gratifying.
I do not wish it to seem as if we were gossiping, but in the midst of a dinner after a long day of petitions and judgements, Allwold said he’d heard of a great beauty in his part of the world. He described her in terms that would have suited a swan or perhaps a milk cow better than a potential queen, but I could see Edgar’s eyes gleam. He seemed ready to go charging off into the night to see this wondrous young woman, but there was still a crowd waiting to see the king and he had promised the Witan six days, with only one complete. I saw him wrestle with the demands of duty and carnal interest. I was pleased when he slumped in his chair and waved a hand.
‘You go, Allwold. Seek out this fine-bosomed bird and see if the talk of her is true. If she is beautiful, tell her I am in need of a queen. If not, give her a gold coin and beg her pardon. It will be a fine quest.’
Allwold thumped his fist on the table and swore he would do it. He looked at me as he did and I could see he was considering asking me to join him. I shook my head. Not only was I no judge of female beauty, I was longing to get back to my forge. I had spent months polishing rubies to fit the crown I would make, studying with master jewellers until I could produce work as fine as any of them. I had asked Edgar how soon he would be crowned and he’d looked away and said I should take all the time I needed. A crown could not be rushed, he said.
I do regret not going with Allwold, now. I had to hear from Edgar what happened. I relate it here because it reveals much about the king.
Allwold went to the area where he’d first heard the rumour, going from village to village, then house to house, looking for the ‘dark beauty’. Those two words alone seemed enough for farmers and old men to point further down the lane, or across a field.
When he found her, he was smitten on the instant. He discovered her as she was picking apples, with a flush on her cheek to shame the ripe fruit. Allwold declared he was a king’s thane and that he would marry her and feed her grapes and have sixty servants tend her – all before he had asked her name.
Her name was Audrey of Wessex and she was of a fine bloodline, daughter of a shire ealdorman. I believe her father had died by that point, leaving the family a little closer to poverty than they might have liked. Either way, the dashing young Allwold swept her into his arms, down the road to her village church to be married, and into the long grass before the sun set, the way I heard it.
There were some who later claimed that she remained a virgin, despite his attentions. As one who met both Audrey and Allwold, I would say that was very unlikely.
Quite how Allwold thought he would get away with such a rash act, I do not know. He did not mention the king’s offer to her, for fear it would eclipse his own. Yet Edgar was expecting him to report back to the Witan. Allwold spent barely three days with his new wife before he came to his senses. He took her to a manor house he owned and left her there. Allwold then went galloping across country, in a fine sweat to reach the king before the end of that council.
I was there for his return to Winchester, though I was busy with Brother Justin and the plans for the new cathedral in Canterbury. We had cleared the site and built a small chapel nearby in the interim. It is my least favourite part of any great build, somehow. It feels as if we have taken stability away, that we have summoned chaos into the world.
In that chaos, I heard Allwold had returned. I left Justin with his compasses and lead markers and went to the king’s side. The guards allowed me to enter, of course, announcing me as I swept in. They say it is a grand thing to be king. As I wrote so many months ago, it is better to anoint them. I did not have to go out riding on patrol, for a start.
Allwold was sweating, I noticed, as I took a seat. Edgar turned away from him and there was a look of honest puzzlement on his face. Yet he was always patient with his friend.
‘So she was not the great beauty you heard reported. Why would such a thing be said, then?’
Allwold shrugged. He was as stiff as a board. I knew in that moment he was guilty of something.
‘People can be cruel, my lord. Or perhaps they meant another.’
‘If they meant another, you did not find her. I’d have thought you’d still be searching.’
‘No … no, Audrey is the one they meant.’
‘But no beauty, you said. A plain woman.’
‘Very plain,’ Allwold replied with more confidence, feeling himself on safer ground. He wasn’t, though.
‘Yet you married her, this plain woman. This very plain woman is now your wife.’
Allwold’s eyes had widened, so that I could see the whites of them. His plan had fallen apart with just a few sharp questions. I know now that he’d intended to put Edgar off with talk of an ugly woman, but the king was not a fool.
‘Yes, my lord,’ Allwold said, as if he could not quite take a full breath.
‘I see,’ Edgar said. ‘You were so taken with her plainness that you married her that very morning.’ There was a coldness to his manner, but he smiled even so. I believe he did see.
I watched as the king stepped off a dais and laid a hand on Allwold’s s
houlder.
‘My friend, I am sorry I missed the service. I will make it up to you. I will bring the hunt to your door and stage a great wedding feast for you.’
‘Your Highness, there is … n-no need for …’
‘It would be my honour, Allwold. Go now and tell your new wife the king is coming. This council is at an end. I will be with you by noon tomorrow.’
I watched Allwold leave and I saw in him the look of a condemned man. He was a fool, and fools should always tell the truth to kings.
38
Consumed with curiosity, I accompanied King Edgar into Kent, where Allwold had his lands. The king had summoned only his favourite huntsmen and companions. They rode good horses, and dogs milled and yelped around us, baying whenever something went crashing through the undergrowth. Dogs and men went out and rejoined us, all panting and red-tongued, cheerful and savage. Before we had ridden twenty miles, they had speared two wild pigs and heaved a small doe across a saddle-horn.
It was a light and breezy day, yet the king’s men wore cowled mail shirts that stretched right to their knees, with a padded jacket over all. Over that hood of iron rings, they wore simple helmets of polished steel. We resembled a war party more than a hunt on a fine day. I do not think that was by accident. Edgar was in the heart of Wessex, and though there could be brigands and thieves on any stretch of road, he could have gone lightly armed to Allwold’s home. Instead, his thirty men wore iron.
Poor Allwold had understood he was in real trouble. Racing home before us, he knew he had to tell the entire sorry tale to his new wife. Yet when the moment came, he merely paced up and down, growing more and more nervous. In the end, he waited until King Edgar’s dust could be seen on the road and the hunt was coming down his drive.
In a torrent of words, he told his new wife what he had done. He pointed to the dust rising and begged her to make herself plain. If she rubbed dirt into her cheeks, wrapped herself in old clothes, pissed on her skirts, anything, she might still save him from the king’s anger.
Audrey rushed away to the private rooms at the back, while in his yard, we all saw him come out, red-faced and breathing hard as he knelt to the king.
Edgar dismounted, leaping down easily, though he too wore mail. The wyvern of Wessex was gold on his surcoat, I remember.
‘Where is this new wife of yours, then? Show me this dear woman who caught your heart in her skirts.’
He spoke lightly, but there was no lightness in him, if you understand me. I dismounted outside, though I was the only one who did. The others waited as if they expected to be called upon to charge at any moment. There was no laughter or talk amongst them. Though they had known Allwold for years, their loyalty was all for Edgar.
The king refused when one of them offered to go in with him. He did not fear Allwold, or perhaps Edgar wished to test his courage, I don’t know. When a young man has never known the pride of a father, he will sometimes push on, to show himself he is not afraid. I think there was a touch of that. Edgar’s father had been murdered, but the son would still duck his head and enter a home without a flinch. Outside, we waited.
King Edgar accepted a cup of wine warmed on the hearth with herbs. He did not drink from it, so he said later. It was one thing to scorn attack, but he was not so trusting as to be made a fool.
The king asked to see this Audrey and then waited, ignoring every attempt Allwold made to draw him into talk. As one who stood outside in the silence, I can say it felt like an age to me. I stroked the nose of my horse, which was very pleasant to the touch. I wondered if anyone had ever made a bag or gloves from that part. I had seen a purse fashioned from a bull’s scrotum that was very useful, lacking seams as it did that might have let in water.
When Audrey appeared, curtsying to her royal guest, she had combed her hair into great lustrous locks. Her face shone, Edgar said later, though with youth or pride it was hard to say. She wore the best dress she owned, which was dark red and of some fine cloth. A gold pendant hung from her throat.
She was exquisitely beautiful, with fine teeth and neck, lips she had bitten red, and wide, dark eyes that seemed to find wonder in the young king.
Allwold sagged as he came in. I’m told she didn’t even look at the man who had married her. Her eyes and her blushes were only for Edgar. Oh, she’d understood what Allwold had done, all right. Her beauty was her rebuke.
Yet she was married – and that was where Edgar showed his bloodline, or so I believe.
He stood and bowed to her, taking a hand in his and kissing it.
‘My lady, your husband did not do you justice,’ Edgar said warmly. He turned a colder look on his friend.
‘Well, Allwold, I came to hunt. Come out with me now.’
The earl made no protest, as I heard it. He knew the end was upon him and he only nodded rather sadly to himself as he went out.
Outside, I was still there to see King Edgar come back to the sunlight, with a miserable-looking Allwold at his side. I began to make preparations to mount once again and King Edgar’s attention drifted over to me.
‘We’ll be riding rather hard and wild, Your Grace. Perhaps you should remain. If you would be so good as to instruct the servants to gralloch and prepare the meat we have brought, I will return before too long.’
That ‘perhaps’ from Edgar was an order from anyone else. In truth, I was relieved. I have never been a great rider and I was not then as young as I’d been at Brunanburh. My hands ached when I hammered with them and the knuckles seemed stiff in the winters. Age takes all, in the end. It is the same for everyone and I do not complain. In that, we are all equal.
When they were gone, I was left alone with a small pile of carcasses. I wrapped the reins around a post and knocked on the door. The house was much larger than my father’s had been, perhaps three times the size, with walls and even corridors within.
‘Hello?’ I called.
I saw her then, when she came. I almost flinched at her beauty, which I cannot explain. Some women are so fair of face that men will follow them and gaze upon them, drinking them in. She was one of those, and yet I was a priest and an abbot, an archbishop as well as a man. I had still not been restored as treasurer, though Edgar had appointed me bishop of London, which brought me great prestige in that city.
I will not describe Audrey as I might a prize heifer, with talk of lips and teeth and ears and clear skin that knew no pox. She listened, I will say that much. When Audrey wished to flatter a man, she listened as if the whole world could fall and she would not care, as long as he spoke. I saw her do that to Edgar, but also to me. With me, she took one look at my tonsure and my gold ring and decided I was one to encourage. I could almost see her make the calculation, so that I was not fooled or drawn in. While Allwold’s servants dragged the animals away to be skinned and disembowelled and jointed, I took a seat and we waited together for the hunt to return.
I look back now and realise I talked for a long time, as the sun certainly moved across the sky outside and the shadows lengthened. I told her of my childhood in Glastonbury and even how I had fallen from a cliff and broken a man under my weight. I made her gasp and laugh, and I could hardly believe the way old words tumbled out of me. I had almost to bite my tongue in the end, before I ruined myself. Such is the power of a beautiful woman’s attention on a man. Thank God they do not know, most of them. Audrey did, though. She knew exactly.
We heard the hunt long, long before we saw even the dust of them on the long road leading to that estate. The dogs barked in constant chorus, never ceasing while they ran. The men rode much faster than before, at least to my eye when I went outside. Believe me, it is a difficult thing to remain seated while the king and thirty horsemen come thundering up to your door, never mind that baying pack.
Edgar dismounted, looking grim. In turn, I looked for Allwold in the crowd, but I could not see him. I think I’d known, from his expression. The man had been resigned to his fate, almost at peace.
‘My lady,’ E
dgar said. ‘I am very sorry. I’m afraid there was an accident. Your husband was killed in the deep woods.’
She did very well, I think, looking back. There were tears and a hand held to the mouth. There was a gasping prayer for his soul. They had left Allwold’s body at the boundary of his land, rather than bringing him to his door like a bad surprise. Audrey walked out to where her husband lay sprawled in the grass, his ribs all red on one side where a boar spear had pierced him.
I went with them, wondering whether I should remain quiet, or whether duty demanded I should speak out. A king was writing his own tale as I stood there, bending the arc of the world towards him. I chose to say nothing, in the end. I had not seen the events of the deep wood. Perhaps another man would have cried out against it, or condemned the king in front of them all. Edgar was my friend and I did not.
There had to be another period of mourning. Allwold’s body was interred in the family tomb and his weeping widow waited an entire month before accepting the king’s hand in marriage. Her beauty had played a part, of course, but it was not the whole of it. When I look back, it was her ruthlessness that made her fate. Women are soft-hearted creatures, most of them. How many would have heard Allwold’s plea and gone to make themselves plain? All but one in ten thousand, perhaps. She had given oaths at her marriage, and in that moment when he laid his foolishness before her, she had broken them all. For the fourth time in my life, a woman crossed my path. From Aphra and my Beatrice, to Queen Elgiva, to Queen Audrey, in the end they brought me only pain, only trouble. Audrey was the worst of them. Yet her fairness hid her from my sight.
I cannot understand why it should be so, but men link beauty and goodness together. An ugly woman is more likely to be called a witch, though it makes no sense at all. What form would evil take if there was any choice? It would be fair, and sweet and soft to the touch. It would not be withered fruit.