The Heavy Crown
Bath, England - April 1137
Lord Berold sat with Lord Harold in the privy council chamber awaiting the King as the Norman Duke eyed his friend with great question, “Come now, sir...you mean to tell me that you spent a fortnight longer than expected in Lancaster and no thing of import occurred?”
Harold kept to his scribbling on some parchment, “No thing but the advancement of His Grace to the Duchess, my Lord.”
“You hold a fine tongue, my Lord Harold,” Berold continued to look on him with suspicion, “You would say that it only be used to speak kind words of the King and not some other? I should think your words might be spoken in less time than that.”
The Duke of Gloucester looked up without expression, “She enjoyed talk of the court, sir. It would seem that she is lonely to the north.”
“It would seem that she is,” Berold offered a large grin, “And you just the man to give her company.”
Harold ignored him but Berold had not time to dig any further as the chamber door opened and the King entered, “My Lords...I be sorry in my tardiness, but my Lady wife the Queen is once more under the weather.”
Both Dukes stood and bowed to Eadward and Harold looked on as he raised himself once more with a concerned face, “I hope it no thing serious, Your Grace.”
Eadward bade them both sit as he took his chair at the head of the table, “It is merely a lingering ailment that has plagued her for some time. We be not so youthful these days, my Lords. Sadly, she is to bed this day to gain her rest. I had need to look in on her before I met with you.”
“I shall pray for the Queen to find her health,” Berold crossed himself with a kind eye.
Harold followed with a nod, “And I have sent for your daughter to join with me here to Bath, Your Grace. I be certain that some time spent with good Hereswith will boost the Queen’s spirits.”
“Very kind of you both,” Eadward kept a pensive look but gave nod in return, “Yet there is still business to be done so let us have at it. You would excuse the absence of the rest of the council for I have them tasked elsewhere at the now.”
“Quite so, Your Grace,” Harold pulled a note from his papers, “And I am told by Lord Bishop Cearl that he makes some progress with the Bishop to Wells in that tax matter.”
Eadward stood to pour himself some ale, “I knew that he was just the man.”
“And I am told that Lord Bishop Cytelbearn does make some progress with these heretics still to York, Your Grace,” Berold watched after him, “Surely they will cease their evil ways in due time.”
Harold too kept an eye to the King’s back, “A pity for that young Duchess that she should continue to see such in her lands.”
“Aye...” Eadward turned to look on them both, “...I quite agree. She being naught but five and her man Mayor Æthelwæld has enough before him. I would wish that land sound before young Cynethryth does find her marriage to my son.”
Berold shared a brief look with Harold before turning back to the King and finding careful words, “On that subject, Your Grace...I fear that I must tell you of some poor news.”
“Something to the north?” Eadward eyed Lord Harold, “I read from your words that the Lady in Lancaster was a friend at the now. Do not tell me that there has been some collusion between her and the men of York.”
Harold held up a hand, “Not at all, Your Grace...the Lady Ada was most effusive in her praise of your person and I do believe that I left her quite charmed.”
As Berold offered a sly look to his friend, Eadward took his seat once more with a slight smile, “That is fine. A nice bit of business to Lancaster, my Lord.”
“Yet, I should think you must needs hear my Lord of Normandy, Your Grace...” Harold gave nod but kept a serious eye, “...for what he has to speak will be most difficult to your ears.”
“Indeed, Your Grace...” Berold kept tall in his seat as Eadward offered a questioning gaze, “...this would bring you disappointment, I be certain, but trust that I have vetted all sources and there can be no mistake about it.”
Eadward looked to him with some impatience, “Then you would tell your King what you think he does not wish to hear.”
“It is your nephew...Lord Eadweald...” Berold remained cautious.
“Jesu!” Eadward cursed, “What has he done now?!”
Lord Berold put a hand to the table before the King and gently broke the news, “It is not so much what he has done but what he has plans to do...a plot that does bring no thing good for the realm or your person, Your Grace.”
“He plots against me?” Eadward looked to both of his Dukes with concern.
“Nay, Your Grace...” Harold answered first before Berold finished.
“He would find plot to see the Duchy of Northumberland named his as he now holds the county there. I should think it no thing good for you, nor the Lady of York.”
“Certainly not for your son, Your Grace,” Harold finished the thought.
“God’s balls!” Eadward shouted before draining his cup and slamming it to the table, “The little idiot...if only my Lady sister had taken the cane to him!”
Harold was quick to stand and fetched the pitcher of ale to refill the King’s cup as he attempted to calm him, “Your Grace...Lord Berold has done well his research and yet the plot is only half-baked at the now. It is not yet a thing done. We did speak before that it would be no thing good for this Lord to find his land to the north and now we begin to see his true ambition.”
“And while I know that I need not remind Your Grace...” Berold followed, “...Lord Eadweald does continue to consider himself the true heir to Godwin. Once one ambition be settled, there will be another.”
“I would throttle him between these hands were he here before me!” Eadward squeezed his fingers in the air with a deep frown.
Berold gave an approving nod, “You would be well within your rights to do so, Your Grace.”
“And yet...” Lord Harold placed the pitcher to the table and sat once more, “...there be other methods to cease his ambition.”
Eadward looked to his Chancellor with a stern eye, “Indeed...I would strip him of his lands and title! I would see him rot in a dungeon to no longer vex me so!”
The two Dukes shared another look with each other before Harold gave nod and Berold put a finger to the table, “Your Grace...I may tell you that there is some other consideration. While you might be rightfully angered by this action...this plot considered...the look of it may not be to your best interests in the whole. An overt reaction to this action may harm your reputation even if a just act.”
Harold followed, “What my Lord of Normandy means to say, Your Grace...outright revocation of land and title would surely anger your other Lords and as you be no tyrant, there be no reason to give any sense of such. There are other means.”
“Do not think me unknowing, my Lords,” Eadward looked to his drink and found some calm as he pondered before looking to his Dukes, “I did do this work for many a year. Yet what is to be our plot? What pretext would we find to see this land of Northumberland taken without undue scorn?”
Both of the young Lords looked to each other with some question at first before Harold held up a finger, “Perhaps some illegality to the Lady Æthelflæd’s will, Your Grace. The land itself is held unrightfully so it would be to your person to make judgment at the end.”
Eadward picked up his cup and took a sip thinking about it before responding, “The Lady held no other descendants. I like it not, but the land is fairly his.”
“Mayhap then a matter of state, Your Grace,” Berold suggested, “Rather than to outright punish, you may attempt to impress upon the Lords the sure security of the realm, these lands being so close to Scotland. Allow Lord Eadweald some few keeps to the area, but the title as Earl of Northumberland as well as his ducal status...it may be provocation to the Scots. I be certain that this would pass muster within York. It may even impress the Lady to Lancaster, though our Lord of Gloucester here may speak to that.”
Harold ignored the grin given to him by Berold and looked to the King, “I do believe that Lord Berold speaks it true, Your Grace. A campaign to convince your great Lords over the safety of the realm will be better received than a punishment.”
“And yet punishment is what is wished,” Eadward looked to him with a sharp eye, “They will know it true. You are young, my Lord Chancellor...never look past what is before you.”
“Your Grace...it is a just punishment,” Berold looked to the King with certainty, “Yet I would back it as I think I may speak for Lord Harold here.”
Harold gave nod, “Indeed, Your Grace...I may back you for such security concerns as would Lord Berold. Your Lady wife and her people to East Anglia...surely Lord Æthelmær...”
“...And I be certain that York would find it in their interests,” Berold finished.
Eadward looked to them both with a mixture of irritation and an impressed eye, “So I am to wait to find my justice? Is that what you tell me?”
“Allow us to find your pretext, Your Grace,” Berold answered as he looked to Harold.
Harold looked to the King with certainty, “We would be sure that your word is sound when the time does come to exact this sentence. I assure you, Your Grace...it is for your betterment.”
The King kept a sharp eye to his Lords, “My betterment would be to see this man laid low for I tire of my petulant nephew...yet you are both correct. The look of it is all important so I will task you with this. Yet do not tarry for I will act if needs be. If Eadweald should succeed in his plot, then it will be much the harder. And I say to you...I shall never recognize him as Duke of Northumberland.”
“You shall not find need, Your Grace,” Berold answered quickly, “This I promise.”
Harold gave a swift nod in agreement, “Never, Your Grace. I do so swear.”
