"I don't really care. Why should this be an issue?"
Edgar drummed his fingers on the armrest. He didn't see any reason why Canterbury and York should squabble over something so... Small. He wasn't even sure where the dividing line between the two of them even was.
"This is a church affair. Why do I need to get involved?"
Edgar nodded, and the squire handed it over to him. It was of Frankish make, shorter and more compact than those bows that the Welsh employed. A hunting bow, not made for war.
"Of course. You fought with the Earls and their Housecarls."
It was known to the King that Godwin had fought in the opposing army multiple times, though they'd never been close upon the battlefield.
"Share power? With a child?"
He visibly balked at the suggestion.
"Why would I do that? William did not do the same for me."
"I will see what candidates are available my king but the final decision will be your call." He says considering Frankia maybe, but Williams blood would be best.
"How have you found the early days of your reign Edgar?" He asked allowing himself to be more familiar in a private setting.
"I don't know who to trust. They all tell me they are loyal, but Mortain told me that many of the Normans would turn if William's son was to cross over the channel."
Edgar confided. He could count the people he knew to be trustworthy upon one hand.
"Some of them will betray me, sooner rather than later. I know it."
Godwin glanced at Edgar. By any English law, he was an Earl. Regardless, he eyed the target and drew the bow, unleashing the arrow. It hit wide, striking near the edge. He grimaced. "A throwing axe or a seax is better." Godwin turned to survey the Aethling, a man near his own age. "I was one of the commanders, Sire, and I was impressed by the Welshmen under my command and their bows, but I have no real talent for shooting."
Gerold sighed, "It is possible they will." In truth it was likely some would much rather have Williams kin on the throne. "I had hoped a marriage to Williams daughter would have settled matters, but never crossed the channel it seems. Now your best option is to show that you are a strong king and make it clear that moving against you will cost them more then it will gain. Many followed William out of loyalty, but not all. Some will be content with their land grants and support you since you secure their position."
"You're not William of Falaise, god preserve his immortal soul. You're Edgar of the West Saxons."
Odo rolled his eyes and shrugged with his left shoulder, throwing out the rhetoric.
"Another king being crowned from one of William's sons is more likely to keep your kingdom secure. Your kingdom."
The bishop made another pause while slouched a little in place.
"It appeases souls like mine, who fought to put my brother on the throne, and makes the future more certain."
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Edgar watched as the arrow hit the rounded edge.
"Yes, those bows are quite something. Not even the strongest men of our camp could draw them."
The Welsh delighted in watching the Normans struggle to draw the massive bows that they had brought with them. It seems the Welsh had unlocked the secret to some hidden strength.
"You should practice. I would have you hunt with me near Windsor."
It was the King's favourite hunting locale, located nearby a castle William had built. A handy spot to retire to after the day's exertions.
"As you say."
Nodded Edgar. Despite the recent rebellion, he felt he could trust his Saxon subjects much more than his Norman ones. A trust that stemmed from understanding.
"And how do I project strength? Remove my rivals?"
"I shall take counsel upon it."
Edgar affirmed, after a long pause. He'd soon figured out that this was an ideal response to give to a proposal you were unsure of without causing disappointment. And this was an uncomfortable conversation.
"Perhaps your point is worth considering."
"After the Wye, I found a man, a knight. One of those arrows punched through his shield, then his mail-clad chest and burst out the other side to strike deeply enough to badly wound the horse." It had been an absurd thing to find, to see that all that armour had proven worthless.
The Saxon ex-prince blinked, surprised by the offer. "I would be honoured, Sire." He nocked another arrow and let it fly, striking a little more truly this time. "Though I may be more use with a boar spear than a bow."
"After the Wye, I found a man, a knight. One of those arrows punched through his shield, then his mail-clad chest and burst out the other side to strike deeply enough to badly wound the horse." It had been an absurd thing to find, to see that all that armour had proven worthless.
The Saxon ex-prince blinked, surprised by the offer. "I would be honoured, Sire." He nocked another arrow and let it fly, striking a little more truly this time. "Though I may be more use with a boar spear than a bow."
"It has been some time since I have hunted boar."
He'd seen one brought down before by his uncle's men, though that was many years ago now. The King was yet to come face to face with such an animal himself.
"We'll have it your way. We shall ride to Windlesora tomorrow. I don't like staying near London for long."
The Thames created an almighty stink, and though Westminster was further from the river the stench occasionally drifted towards the Palace.
"That is no easy choice. Some will see mercy as a sign of weakness. Others will see it as strength. You must make choices on your own, and decide how you want to rule. Make it clear that they are relying on you to maintain their power." He looks down and frowns, "If Williams kin crosses the channel none will rise up if they think they will not benefit from his rule more then they benefit from yours."
Gerold knew the Saxons would be staying with Edgar if that happened, but the Normans would not all be trustworthy.
"As you wish, Sire." How Godwin felt about this he wasn't sure, he found himself liking Edgar, but disliking his associates, manners and policy. He was supposed to be a Saxon, but he showered his Norman followers with the wealth that rightfully belonged to his Saxon vassals. "London is truly a hellish, foul place. Eoferwic and Tamworth are far more pleasant cities, in my own humble opinion."
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"There's no need to be involved if his grace wishes, i just wanted to hear a different opinion on the matter, and as you say it is just a minor matter." Apparently the king was disinterested in the ecclesiastical affairs of his realm. He'd decided to drop the matter to please his king, there was no point in stressing the point here. He'd learned that after all these years
"Has there been any news about Curthose, if i may inquire?" Curthose needed to be rid of, stigand didn't want another Norman on the throne, they didn't bring him profit enough.
Veritas Temporis Filia
Whilst Gilbert de Clare was in Goodrich with his Uncle, Richard de Clare took this opportunity to seek an audience with the King.
Section Editor ES • Librarian • Local Moderator • Citizen • CdeC
”As you say. It will be hard to keep everyone happy. Impossible, even.”
Agreed Edgar. Somehow he would have to unite Saxon and Norman under one English king.
”I prefer the countryside, myself. I’ve become accustomed to enjoying the outside upon horseback.”
The King had acquired a keen taste for horse flesh in the past few years.
”I shall build a hunting lodge near Eoferwic, I think. For when I get tired of the south.”
He had enjoyed his time in York, and the north was at the heart of his Saxon support.
”Still dying. God preserve him.”
Edgar crossed himself. As far as he knew, Robert was still lying comatose in Westminster, showing no sign of recovery.
“Why?”
De Clare is admitted into the audience chamber at Westminster, not long after the Christmas celebrations had taken place. Edgar had worn his great-uncle’s crown for the occasion, but the jewel encrusted regalia had once again been replaced with a simple golden circlet. The Baron is called before the throne, where the King waits upon the dais.
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"Not at all."
Replied the King. He'd been entertaining a few noblewomen beforehand, and they now waited in the background for the King to conclude his business with de Clare.
"You are well?"
He asked, politely.
"A wise notion, Sire." Truthfully, Godwin didn't know what else to say. He'd come out petition the confirmation of his title, and instead found the King attempting to befriend him. He was bemused, to say the least.
-----
The next day, Godwin arrived with his boar spear slung over his shoulder, and waited for the King.
A hunting party had begun to gather outside of Westminster Palace, just after the rising of the sun. Normans and Saxons alike waited on horseback for the King to appear; the new King’s household, men who had served William and the northern Earls alike, minor nobles who had entered into Edgar’s favour. The houndmaster has rounded up the dogs, loyal wolfhounds bred to catch and kill whatever dwelt out in the forest. They would ride from west from London, into Berkshire, and begin their chase in the surrounding forests. The King was usually a late riser, but he appeared earlier than usual (though still after all the others had assembled) to greet those who would join him upon today’s hunt. His dogsbody followed close behind, burdened with both a hunting bow and a hefty boar spear.
“Morning, Godwin. Ready to find this boar?”
Edgar trotted over to the eldest of Harold’s sons, looking sprightly.