The Rose, the Dagger, and the Axe Part II.
There must have been an air of almost invincibility among the Saxon nobility through the invasions up until the royal assassination. None of the nobility had been seriously wounded or captured and even the defeat at Woking seemed to be at worst a set back. One assassin’s dagger changed all that. When the name Godwinson stopped being a shield of invulnerability, it must have hit home that even Harold was mortal.
-Dr. Steve Haroldson, A Brief History of England Chapter 8: The Invasions
While Haroldson’s work remains one of the most complete works about early English history, the word brief in the title notwithstanding, it suffers in one critical way. He applies too much human emotion to the story. This is not intrinsically wrong and in several cases his guesswork is probably more or less spot on, however at the end of the day it remains just that, guesswork. This is very apparent when he talks about warfare in Saxon England and when he talks about the House of Watters.
-Dr. Linda Hwicce, excerpt from her review of Dr. Steve Haroldson’s book “A Brief History of England”
All of the wind that had left Waltheof’s chest when he heard the news had rushed back a second later when Harold burst out of the door in a night gown swinging his sword looking for something to kill. Another succession crisis was the last thing England needed at this moment. “Who died, my liege?”
Harold’s mad eyes landed on Waltheof for a second, his sword coming up to point at his chest clearly about to shout for Waltheof’s arrest until he saw the tightly wrapped cloak and the bright red cheeks. “My brother. My brother, Leofwine was murdered. An assassin slipped a poisoned dagger into his chest in his sleep. The man was caught and stabbed with his own dagger. After the promise of a quick death he said he was hired by my brother Gyrth. Tostig tries to take my throne and then another brother tries to kill the last of my brothers. Is this the legacy of my father and brother-in-law?”
Without a word Waltheof changed his expression into something that condemned the actions of the murderous brothers but gave sympathy to the King’s plight. ‘It makes sense. Gyrth is Leofwine’s heir and the two are second and third in line for the throne behind young Godwin.’ Waltheof mused to himself. “I will take a detachment of guards and arrest your brother for you, my liege. The King’s Justice will be carried out.”
His march through the main hallway of the royal apartments was purposeful. Waltheof’s cloak had been replaced with his marshal’s cape, and other rainments of his office. With four guards he did not think Gyrth would give him much trouble at all. Forcefully he knocked on the door. After a bit of rustling Gyrth finally roused himself and came to the door looking very tired and confused. “Gyrth, by order of the king you are to come with me. You are under arrest for the murder of a member of the royal house.”
“Wha-what? What are you talking about? Murder? Leofwine?”
“I don’t have time for this. Come with me and try to sort it out with someone who can change your position and cares.” Waltheof motioned to the guards to take Gyrth and drag him away. It was sort of pathetic in a way really when one thought about it. This man is feigning ignorance at something he very clearly did.
The sun was bright as the court gathered in the courtyard of the palace. Gyrth stood in shackles as Harold started to rattle off the charges. “Gyrth Godwinson, Earl of Norfolk, Thegn of Suffolk, Norfolk, and Essex, you have been charged with fratricide, murder of a member of the royal house, and with treason to the throne. Each charge carries the penalty of death. Do you have any last words?”
Gyrth’s head raised and he did what he could to look proud and regal though he was in chains and his nightwear, “You are making a mistake brother. Only you and Tostig have anything to gain from my death and the death of Leofwine.” Such a bold statement could not go unanswered of course. Waltheof watched as Gyrth was pushed onto the headsman’s block; the man was a professional with a sharp axe, it only took three strikes to sever Gyrth’s head from his body.
“Bonjourno, siamo la Società Della Rose. As you would say we are the Company of the Rose. I am Chiaffredo di Padua, Comandante Della Rose.” The man said with a deep bow. “We are here at your king’s summons. We have a Bastard to kill do we not?”
“Yes, that is about it. I am Waltheof of Northampton, and commander of the army.” Waltheof replied in Latin, proving both that he was not an uneducated savage and to stop the man from continuing to try unsuccessfully to speak English. “Your men will make up about two thirds of the force and will be most of the center which will be directly commanded by me as well as me being the overall commander. Are those terms agreeable?”
“Yes, commander. They are quite agreeable.” di Padua replied with a smile.
The Italians had hardly gotten settled when a small group of soldiers came from the north flying the flag of the Earldom of Norfolk. Harold met them at the gates. “Tostig. What are you doing here, why should I not kill you, and why are you flying that flag?”
Tostig was a small man with a famous sly grin that he now used, “My dear brother and liege, I am here only to have you confirm what is mine. When Leofwine died, Gyrth became Thegn of Kent. When Gyrth died, I inherited all our good brother’s possessions.”
