IT WAS A hard winter, snow falling for days on end, rivers and streams and the water in the wells freezing over. Hakon stayed for a while, and Magnus took him hunting in the silent woods, although they could flush out little game from the deep white drifts that reached halfway up the leafless trees. But soon Hakon had to go back to Thorney, and Magnus sank into gloom, passing his days dozing by the hearth in the hall.
One dark afternoon a messenger walked into the hall, a young housecarl Magnus didn’t recognize. Magnus’s mother was sitting by the hearth too, sewing by candlelight, working on a small tapestry of Christ as a baby with his mother Mary. Gytha and Gunhild had been sent to stay in London with their grandmother, and the hall seemed even quieter for their absence. Magnus liked it that way.
“My lord Magnus? I come with a message from the king,” said the housecarl, stopping a few feet from the hearth. He had snow on the shoulders of his cloak and looked frozen. Magnus kept his eyes on the fire, the word king calling up an image in his mind of a sickly old man. But he remembered King Edward was dead and his father was king now, and suddenly he felt his heart start to pound in his chest.
“Speak, then,” he said. “What does my father wish from me?”
“He wishes you to go to Thorney, my lord,” said the messenger.
“Did he say why?” Magnus asked, and realized it was a stupid question. From the moment he had walked out of the feast in King Edward’s hall he had known there would be a reckoning, that he would be summoned by his father to explain why he had spoken that way before the great men of the kingdom. It had only been a matter of time. Magnus was surprised his father had waited this long.
“All I know is that he wants you there as soon as possible, my lord.”
Magnus thanked the messenger, and dismissed him.
“Don’t look so worried, Magnus,” his mother said with a smile. “Everything will be fine.”
Magnus wasn’t so sure. Yet he knew there was no getting out of it.
He left the next morning, riding alone, a weak sun shining in a cold grey sky. The roads were difficult because of the snow, so the journey took longer than usual, and he spent the nights in taverns, or other farms owned by his father. He arrived on the sixth day, and the guards at the bridge gate waved him through.
His father was in the Audience Chamber, sitting on his throne. He was wearing a rich red gown of the finest cloth and a circle of gold round his brow. There were others in the room – a couple of housecarls, several nobles and priests. His father was talking to Stigand, and looked up as Magnus entered. Their eyes met, but his father didn’t smile, and he carried on talking. Magnus stood in the shadows, waiting.
“Leave me now,” his father said at last. “I wish to speak with my son.”
The room quickly emptied, several of the men casting Magnus pitying looks as they left. He felt sick, his stomach churning, and he wondered what awful punishment his father had in store for him. When everyone was gone, his father beckoned to Magnus to come and stand before him. Then the new king leaned back and stared at him, an elbow on one arm of the chair, hand on his chin, a finger tapping his lips.
“So, Magnus,” he said after a while. “We did not part on friendly terms last year. Is there anything else you want to say to me? Or do you still feel the same?”
“I’m sorry, Father,” said Magnus. “I think I understand now why you had to do the things you did. I … I just wish you had explained it all to me a little earlier.”
“And what difference would that have made?” said his father. “You would still have been angry…” He paused, took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “But then I ought to have foreseen that, and what’s done is done. So I forgive you, as Stigand tells me I should. Apparently forgiveness is the mark of a truly Christian king. And what about you, Magnus? Do you forgive me for what I did to Tostig – and to your mother?”
Magnus met his gaze. “I forgive you for what you did to Tostig.”
His father frowned, and for a moment it seemed that he might lose his temper. Magnus couldn’t change the way he felt, though. He had to be honest, whatever the consequences. As far as he was concerned, his father had done his mother wrong, even if he thought it had been for a good reason. But his father just shook his head and looked resigned. “I suppose that’s the best I can hope for,” he said. Suddenly he leaned forward. “Do you still want to be my heir, Magnus?”
Magnus was taken aback. “I didn’t think you’d want me to be your heir, not after what I said,” he spluttered. It was the last question he was expecting to be asked. He had long since convinced himself the great future he had glimpsed had vanished like the snow melting in the fields, and that his father would choose another heir.
“I didn’t, at least not to begin with,” said his father. “Then I realized it took courage to stand up to me like that, and I thought perhaps I should give you another chance. But I need to know I can rely on you, that you won’t let me down again.”
“Of course you can, Father! Is there some way I can prove it to you?”
“Well, there might be something you could do…” His father stroked his moustache with a finger and thumb. “It would be difficult and dangerous, though.”
“That doesn’t worry me, Father. Tell me what it is and I’ll do it.”
“Very well,” said his father. “You can spy on Tostig for me.”
Magnus felt his face stiffen, his eager expression freezing. He couldn’t help thinking his father had set a trap for him and had just sprung it. “I’ve done that once already,” he muttered, “and you didn’t think much of what I discovered.”
“You’re mistaken, Magnus. I thought you did an excellent job of working out what Tostig was doing wrong. You just didn’t like the way I dealt with him.”
“But Edward sent him into exile. How can he still be a problem?”
His father gave a mirthless laugh. “I should have known my brother would make himself a nuisance wherever he is. It seems he managed to get most of his treasure out of York before he had to flee. The story goes that he had it hidden on some longships he always kept tied up in the river. He’s used it to hire more bought men and ships, and now he’s raiding the coast. Our coast, the coast of England.”
Magnus remembered the longships he had seen when he had ridden across the bridge in York. So his uncle wasn’t quite as simple and straightforward as he seemed. “Why is he raiding us?” Magnus said. “What does he want?”
“Revenge, of course. But he can’t invade and defeat me because he doesn’t have enough money for an army. He raids instead, stealing whatever he can, burning villages, killing farmers and fishermen and their families. Perhaps he hopes the people will think I’m weak and rise against me. Or maybe it’s part of some plan, an alliance with another claimant to the throne. That’s what I need to know.”
A silence fell between them. Magnus thought about Tostig, turning it all over in his mind. “But how would I do it?” he said at last. “What would I say to him?”
“You could take a ship and some housecarls who are loyal and know how to keep their mouths shut. Hakon will choose them for you. Then you just tell Tostig you’re on his side, keep your ears open and report back to me when you can.”
“But why would Tostig trust me? In York I let him know I didn’t agree with what he was doing in the North. And I am your son. I was there in Oxford when you told him he was being sent into exile. He saw me there with you.”
“That’s the beauty of it, Magnus,” said his father. “He did see you there – which means he saw how shocked you were. We can be sure he also heard all about what happened at the feast. As far as he knows, you hate me for what I did to him and to your mother. So he will trust you, whatever you said in York.”
“But can I trust you, Father?” said Magnus, the words forming in his mind and flying out of his mouth before he could stop them. He was sure his father would be angry this time – but the king leaned back in his throne and smiled once more.
“That’s up to you, Magnus,” he said. “I cannot decide that for you.”
Magnus thought for a moment. His father had clearly plotted everything out. But then perhaps that’s what kings had to do… And it occurred to Magnus that he should be taking care of his own future. Magnus loved the idea of being his father’s heir, and he couldn’t help feeling this was all like wading across a river – he had come too far to turn back, so he might as well carry on.
“I will do as you ask, my lord,” he said at last, and knelt before the king.
Two days later a great fiery star burned across the sky over England, almost turning night into day. The priests said it was an evil omen, that it meant war and famine and death were coming, and for a while the churches were packed.
But Magnus had already set out in search of Tostig.
