Category: The Sons of Godwine

In this chapter, Harold has come back from his ineffectual meeting with the Northumbrian rebels and must relay their demands to King Edward and Tostig:

TOSTIG REMEMBERS

      Editha and I stood next to the wall watching as Harold entered the great hall accompanied by a group of men who were very nervous; the newcomers seemed reluctant to hand over their weapons as required by law. Finally they consented but stood in a little clump next to the door. I gasped, recognizing a few of them. They were some of the very thegns who undoubtedly murdered my household. Editha put a hand on my harm, shushing me.
Harold pulled away from them as soon as he could. He looked around for the king, then entered Edward’s presence chamber alone. I could see his face; it was drawn with worry lines. He was pacing the chamber when Editha and I came in behind him. Then he whirled around, expecting the king. He let out a big sigh when he saw me.
“Tostig,” he began. “Sit down.”
I refused. He wasn’t going to stand over me.
“Tostig,” he began again. “They are a rabble. They are ravaging the country around Northampton. And soon they will be moving on to Oxford.”
I looked at him in disbelief. “Then we must raise the fyrd,” I began hesitantly. “We need an army to put them down.”
The door slammed behind us. It was the king.
“What is this about the fyrd? What happened at Northampton?”
Harold kneeled before King Edward. “The rebels took you at your word,” he said. “They sent representatives to put their case to you in person.” He stood and looked over at me. “I could get nowhere with them.”
Edward looked troubled. “They will not accede to my demands? That they cease their ravaging?”
“For a short time. It appears they want to show you how powerful a force they are. I believe they are prepared to overrun East Anglia if you do not accept their terms.”
I stared at Harold, not believing what I was hearing.
“What are you saying?” I couldn’t help myself. “You let them dictate terms to you!” I could barely control my voice. For once, Edward did not stop me.
“Tostig,” Harold tried to cajole me in his most manipulative voice. “That’s why I wanted to prepare you for this. They were unruly, but they were united. They had many grievances. And more than that: I believe they have been plotting this rebellion for some time. Why else would Morcar be on hand to accept the earldom?”
My brother spoke out loud what I dared not think to myself. Before I had time to consider the consequences, he turned back to the king. “The men would present their complaints directly to you, in front of our assembly. I could not say nay.”
Editha had a hold of my arm. “Let them speak,” she whispered in my ear. “We must know what their plans are before we can foil them.”
My sister was always the voice of reason between Harold and me. I allowed her to pull me from the room. I stood aside as the king passed and my sister kept her hand on my arm. Edward made a majestic entry into the witan chamber with Harold; my sister and I followed. The assembly bowed to the king and the rebels came forward as one.
“Sire,” the spokesman said. “We come before you freemen born and bred. It is not in our blood to bow before the pride of any earl. We learned before our fathers to take no third choice between freedom or death.” He looked up at Edward, avoiding my eye.
“If you want to keep Northumbria in your allegiance, we insist you confirm the banishment of Tostig from our earldom and from the kingdom. If you persist on forcing Tostig on your unwilling subjects, we will deal with you as an enemy!”
At that, I lunged at his shaggy face, wanting to crush his throat in my bare hands. Harold grabbed me and forced my arms behind my back.
The bastard wasn’t finished. He bravely faced me while Harold held me firm. “We have already elected Morcar as our earl,” he shouted over the commotion. “You must confirm our election! If you yield to our demands, you will see what loyal subjects your Northumbrians can be, when ruled by a candidate of our own choosing.”
Staggered, I went limp in Harold’s arms. He let me go gently. I don’t think I believed what could happen—what was happening—until this moment. I stepped behind the king and used the back of his throne for support.
But the worst was yet to come. The hall was in an uproar, and Edward insisted that the Northumbrian deputation be removed from the room while their demands were discussed. At first, I had to listen to the same old accusations again, but Edward finally put a stop to that.
“Silence,” he shouted. “We are not here to determine why the Northumbrians revolted, but how to stop their depredations.”
That helped quiet the room down. “There is no justification for their illegal actions,” the king continued. “They have pillaged and killed my lawful subjects. They have risen up in rebellion against Tostig’s lawful rule. They must be punished.”
Finally! I stood straighter, more confident now that the king was in control.
Harold cleared his throat. “Sire,” he said, beginning slowly. “Are you speaking of civil war?”
Edward turned to my brother impatiently. “Call it what you will,” he said disdainfully. “These people must be chastised. They are in rebellion against their king!”
The room fell silent. Edward looked around at the witan. Where was his support?
I could feel myself losing patience, but I bit my tongue.
“Sire,” my brother ventured again. “What would you accomplish but more bloodshed? If you compelled the Northumbrians to take back the rule of Tostig, how would we enforce it?”
“Enforce it?” I exclaimed, no longer able to control myself. “What are you saying, brother?” I seized him by the arms and faced him, eye to eye. “We will enforce it with our soldiers!”
“We would have to lay waste to your whole earldom! Is that what you want?”
“If that’s what it takes, then yes!”
“Tostig, aren’t you listening? They won’t take you back!”
This couldn’t be my brother speaking! “I beggared myself for you,” I spat. “For your endless Welsh campaign, so you could come home with all the glory! Is this how you thank me?”
My brother ignored my taunt. Leaning to one side, he tried to look around me at the king. “Think of what they are threatening, Sire. They are threatening to ravage Northamptonshire as we argue. Think of what they are doing to our country. I was there. I heard how uncompromising they were. It might be better to consider their demands.”
I couldn’t believe my ears! I tightened my grip on his arms.
“You can’t be saying this!” I shouted in his face. “You must have instigated this rebellion! You! Who insisted I raise all the taxes! You knew what would happen! You must be in league with Edwin and Morcar! How could you turn on your own brother!”
The uproar continued, but Harold and I were locked in a private struggle. I stared him down; he was the first to look away.
“I swear!” he roared over the noise. “I swear to you that I knew nothing about this rebellion.”
“We already know what your oath is worth,” I growled. I doubt anyone heard me except Harold and King Edward.
But Harold was busy pointing up in the air and calling for attention. “I am willing to call oath-helpers to prove my innocence. I have witnesses! I swear I am innocent of this accusation!”
“All right, all right,” Edward consented. “That will not be necessary. Now, sit down.”
I didn’t agree with the king. I didn’t move. “My faithful brother.” I spat the words. “Support me in this, else you will lose my loyalty forever.”
Harold blanched. “Tostig,” he pleaded. “Give me time.”
“Sit, Earl Tostig,” the king remonstrated. “You must control your temper.”
I took a deep breath and backed away. It was then that I noticed the silence in the room. Frustrated, I sat down. My sister came up behind me and put a hand on my shoulder. That helped calm me a bit. For a moment.
One of Harold’s under-chieftains stood up. “Sire, it would be very difficult to raise an army so late in the year. How would we provision ourselves?”
“We cannot campaign in the winter,” another shouted.
My brother’s minions all murmured their agreement. Another stood up. “What good would it do for England if Wessex was to make war on Northumbria?” He turned around, nodding his head as others shouted that he was right. Someone else called out, “Why should we support a cast-off earl?”
I stood up at that, but Edward stood too, pointing in my direction.
“I do not call out the fyrd to support a cast-off earl. I call out the fyrd to support my Royal authority!”
It made sense, though I was a little dismayed to be so discounted.
“Those traitors need to be punished!” Edward’s voice was starting to sound like a whine again. I hated when he lost control. I took a step down and approached the assembly, trying my best to sound reasonable.
“King Edward speaks true,” I proclaimed in my most authoritative voice. “All the injured and dead are our countrymen.”
People started shouting at me, brandishing their fists. I bellowed back, to no avail. No one would listen to me.
“I command you to call out the whole force of England to my Royal Standard!” the king ordered, screaming over my head. Nobody heard. Nobody answered.
My arrogant brother just stood there, arms crossed, and waited for the noise to die down. In disgust, I went back to my seat.
Edward collapsed into his throne, his energy spent. After another few minutes, Harold moved to where I had been standing.
“The king requests that we call the fyrd,” he said to a restless but quieter crowd. “But we all would abstain from a civil war.” He turned and looked at me and I narrowed my eyes, glaring at him. “Our father would not do it fourteen years ago. It’s no different now. Our enemies across the sea would attack us at the first opportunity.”
Another stood up. “Even if we forced them to take Tostig back, who is to stop them from rebelling again?” Harold watched while the shouting started all over again.
My brother finally turned to King Edward. “Some of the rebels have crossed into my brother Gyrth’s earldom. They are headed for Oxford. I propose we call a witenagemot of the whole realm, and stop the renegades there before they progress any farther south. Then we can negotiate further.”
The king had sunk further into his throne. My advocate. My supporter. Edward nodded, looked away and waved his hand, granting Harold the power to call his assembly. I knew the signs. The meeting was finished. So was I.
As the crowd made their way out of the assembly hall, I went up to Harold. He didn’t want to look at me but he couldn’t help himself. He was drawn to me like a moth to a flame; my ire was such that he couldn’t avoid me, though he knew my righteous anger was going to burn deep. We’ve opposed each other before, but not like this.
“Brother,” I said to him. I couldn’t keep the threat from my voice. “I hope you bestow some sense on my Northumbrian traitors. Because if you do not, I swear to God Almighty that you will regret it for the rest of your life.”
Not trusting myself further, I turned on my heel and headed for the king’s personal door. Turning, I looked back and saw my sister, standing and glaring at Harold. At least she was on my side.

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One of the reasons given for the Northumbrian rebellion against Tostig in 1065 was the mysterious murder of Cospatric (or Gospatric) at the Christmas court in 1064. The assassination has been pinned on Queen Editha, Tostig’s sister, and it has been said that she ordered this killing in her brother’s interest. I always thought this was a strange accusation to be made against Tostig, since it seems that he didn’t know about it ahead of time. It’s also interesting that, since it was apparently common knowledge that Editha ordered this murder, why wasn’t she  held accountable (except by historians). What happened here?

The first thing I had to do was unravel just who this Cospatric was. There is plenty of confusion over this name, because there were two Cospatrics (or Gospatrics) from Northumbria, both associated with the house of Uhtred (or Uchtred) the Bold, ealdorman of Northumbria assassinated by Canute’s order in 1016. The murdered Cospatric was a direct descendant of earl Uhtred by his second wife Sige. The second Cospatric who became earl of Northumberland 1067-1072 was descended from Uhtred’s third wife Aelfgifu through his mother. This made him half-nephew of the murdered Cospatric. He was also cousin to Malcolm III because his father Maldred was brother to Duncan I.

When Macbeth killed Duncan in 1040 and became king of Scotland, Prince Malcolm and relatives presumably took refuge with Earl Siward. It’s probable that young Cospatric was among the refugees, since his father was brother to the late king. Presumably he was raised in Northumberland and maybe even Bamburgh castle. On the other hand, the elder Cospatric was apparently displaced from Northumberland to Cumberland by Earl Siward when the Dane became earl in 1041; this was allegedly in compensation for losing Bamburgh.

From what I can gather, there was no love lost between the two Cospatrics, especially if the younger became an adherent of Tostig, which he apparently did. It was this Cospatric who traveled to the continent in Tostig’s party in 1061 and bravely put himself forward as earl when they were set upon by robbers after a papal visit. He risked his life so Tostig could get away. Unfortunately, in Tostig’s absence Malcolm III overran all of Cumbria, expelling the elder Cospatric who apparently compensated himself by taking back Bamburgh castle. Now it was younger Cospatric who was displaced.

This much I gathered from the excellent book by William E. Kapelle: The Norman Conquest of the North. However, the murder itself has never been satisfactorily explained. We know that Cospatric traveled to the Christmas Court, presumably to complain about Tostig. We know he was killed, supposedly on the order of the queen.  The rest is pure conjecture, which I have attempted to explore in my novel, FATAL RIVALRY, Part 3 of The Last Great Saxon Earls. Did Cospatric make some threats against Tostig? Did Editha feel the need to silence him to protect her brother? There must have been a cover-up, but how did historians catch the thread of this conspiracy? Tostig apparently didn’t benefit from the murder, for less than a year later his earldom went up in flames along with his title. Young Cospatric probably accompanied Tostig into exile, for he lost his seat in Northumberland to Oswulf—appointed by Morcar, Tostig’s replacement. Editha, of course, was sullied by this suspicious killing. It doesn’t look like anyone came out ahead.

But young Cospatric knew how to land on his feet. After the conquest, in 1067, even though he was William the Conqueror’s hostage he was able to buy back his earldom. Alas, he squandered it by joining Eadgar Aetheling’s rebellions. William officially stripped him of his earldom in 1072 and he fled into exile, eventually to be taken in by Malcolm III, who granted him the castle and lands at Dunbar.

 

Most of us lament the fate of Harold Godwineson (or Godwinson), last of the Anglo-Saxon kings killed at the Battle of Hastings. But how many know about his younger brother Wulfnoth? Born about 20 years after his famous sibling, Wulfnoth was whisked away as hostage for his father’s good behavior when he was only about 12 years old. In all the confusion surrounding Godwine’s return from exile in 1052, he was probably kidnapped by the Archbishop Robert of Jumièges, who fled from London with the rest of Edward’s Norman allies. Robert turned over Wulfnoth and cousin Hakon to William, claiming (in one version) that King Edward had declared the Norman Duke as his heir, and sent the boys along as guarantee of his pledge. Presumably the Duke did not investigate the validity of this promise. Why should he suspect the word of an Archbishop?

Poor Wulfnoth was in quite a fix. After all, he was the youngest son and hence, expendable. At the time he was abducted, his father was striving to get his position back. Earl Godwine probably didn’t even know his son was missing until after the fact. How culpable was the King? Could Godwine accuse him of betraying his trust? (Wulfnoth was Edward’s hostage, after all.) Not likely. Would Godwine have written to Duke William offering to pay a ransom for his son? Wulfnoth was not likely ever to know, and his father died the next year, which must have seemed like a catastrophe to the lonely youth.

I’ve read some Victorian-era historians who bemoan the innocent prisoner kept under lock and key. But I suspect his confinement was more in the nature of a high-ranking son of a noble, raised in the ducal household to ensure the loyalty of the father. The captive son would be treated like a squire or even a member of the family, provisionally allowed to roam free with the understanding that he would not try to leave. Or at least, I hope this is how Wulfnoth was treated, for he never deserved his fate. I can only suspect the boy was a powerful negotiating tool for the Duke, just in case the opportunity arose. And if King Edward really did offer William the crown, of course he would keep the boy as security. There should have been no reason to put him in a prison cell.

When Harold made his fatal oath to support William’s claim to the throne in 1064, once again Wulfnoth had to stay as surety for his promise; it seems that his fellow hostage Hakon was not as important, and William let him go home. Once Harold took the throne, I wonder if William was tempted to kill his hostage? If the Duke was as nasty as he is made out to be, surely one would have expected him to take his revenge. But he didn’t. In fact, Wulfnoth was the Duke’s hostage until the day William died; on his death bed, a repentant William the Conqueror released all his hostages.

Alas, Wulfnoth’s freedom was short-lived. William Rufus is said to have rushed to England to claim his patrimony, taking Wulfnoth with him. Having a Godwineson on the loose was too risky for the Norman heir; the last thing Rufus needed was a new rebellion with a puppet figurehead. Of course by then, Wulfnoth had been a captive so many years he had no friends in England, no property, nor any family left; they had all fled the country and his sister Queen Editha had died in 1075. So he wasn’t much of a threat, and the new king was content to confine Wulfnoth to Winchester, where he may have become a monk at the cloister. He died in the year 1094.

It’s interesting to me that the least dramatic and least talked-about Son of Godwine is the only one to have survived the events of 1066. In my world of historical fiction, this gave him the opportunity to compile the remembrances of his brothers and finish the chronicle begun by his sister Editha. In her words: I preserved my real story, and intend to pass it on to my last surviving brother Wulfnoth, who can prepare it for a future chronicler not hostile to our house. Who is that chronicler? Myself, of course! You can read all about it in FATAL RIVALRY.

 

If the mid-eleventh century is dominated by any theme, the rivalry between the great houses ranks close to the top. When Edward the Confessor became king, England was dominated by the Three Great Earls: Godwine of Wessex, Leofric of Mercia, and Siward of Northumbria. Edward made it his policy to leverage one (or two) against the other, which usually held him in good stead.

When Godwine died in 1053, Harold stepped into his shoes with hardly a ripple. But once old Siward died in 1055 and Leofric followed in 1057, the balance of power had shifted. Tostig was awarded the earldom of Northumbria and Aelfgar, Leofric’s son, was given Mercia (though he proved much less effective than his father). Gyrth and Lefowine split the earldom of East Anglia. So by 1057, the house of Godwine controlled all of England except Mercia. Poor Aelfgar must have felt himself at a huge disadvantage, which probably goes a long way toward explaining his alliance with Gruffydd ap Llewelyn, Prince of Wales (and thorn in King Edward’s side). But this didn’t last long either, for Aelfgar expired in December 1062. He was survived by two sons, Edwin and Morcar (or Eadwine and Morkere), and a daughter, Ealdgyth, who was married to Gruffydd.

So Edwin became the next Earl of Mercia, though apparently his early years were pretty uneventful. Gryffydd was on the run, and there is no indication that Mercia interfered in Welsh politics at this time. Presumably Edwin took back his sister after the Prince of Wales was killed by Harold Godwineson in 1063 (she is the same Ealdgyth, or Edith, who married Harold around the time he became king). In 1065 he was to become involved in his brother’s unlawful acquisition of Northumbria, with Welsh fighters in tow. Where did they come from?

Tostig’s tenure in Northumbria lasted 10 years, but in October of 1065 his disgruntled thegns rose up in rebellion while the earl was in the south with the king. It was well planned, and Tostig’s 200 housecarls were wiped out before they were able to mount an effective resistance. The rebels broke into the treasury, raided the armory, killed any and all of Tostig’s supporters, then declared a Witan to choose a new earl. This was not a legal procedure, for only the king was entitled to elect an earl. But the Northumbrians were jealous of their privileges and intended to compel King Edward to accept their decision. Morcar was their choice, and apparently he was elected unanimously. He just happened to be within calling distance and quickly swore himself in; needless to say, many historians believe he had secretly agreed to become earl during the planning stages.

Why did the Northumbrians choose an outsider and an inexperienced leader, at that? Perhaps this was the very reason: what better way to control a puppet ruler? Everyone knew that Morcar was the best candidate to antagonize the house of Godwine. But also, the men from Northumberland and the men from Yorkshire (north vs. south in the earldom) didn’t exactly get along; it’s a good possibility that Morcar was a compromise candidate, acceptable to all. Regardless, he took his place at the Witan and proceeded to lead a very disruptive mob south to confront the king. They plundered their way though Tostig’s lands so as to do the most damage to their declared enemy—even taking hundreds of captives.

Somewhere around Northampton, the rebels paused, though their marauding continued. At this point they were joined by Edwin and a contingent from his earldom, supplemented by a large number of Welsh fighters. This new alliance seemed a little suspicious to many historians. Emma Mason in her “THE HOUSE OF GODWINE” proposed that there might be a connection between Edwin’s Welsh followers and the destruction of Harold’s new hunting lodge in Portskewett a few months before. Could it be that the attackers were on their way to join in Edwin’s “great rebellion that was about to break out”? I find this suggestion to be almost irresistible. Is it possible that Edwin and Morcar were hoping to build a whole new northern state, to bring England back to the days of the Danelaw?

In the end, the Northumbrian rebellion was successful and the rebels forced Harold Godwineson—Edward’s spokesman—to accept their demands. They refused to take Tostig back, and went so far as to insist on his outlawry. The king reluctantly agreed to allow Morcar to remain as Earl, and presumably they went peaceably back home, having satisfied their destructive impulses.

Earls Edwin and Morcar were not destined to enjoy their status for very long. I’ll continue their story in my next blog entry.

Emerging from the long shadow cast by his formidable father, Harold Godwineson showed himself to be a worthy successor to the Earldom of Wessex. In the following twelve years, he became the King’s most trusted advisor, practically taking the reins of government into his own hands. And on Edward the Confessor’s death, Harold Godwineson mounted the throne—the first king of England not of royal blood. Yet Harold was only a man, and his rise in fortune was not blameless. Like any person aspiring to power, he made choices he wasn’t particularly proud of. Unfortunately, those closest to him sometimes paid the price of his fame.

This is a story of Godwine’s family as told from the viewpoint of Harold and his younger brothers. Queen Editha, known for her Vita Ædwardi Regis, originally commissioned a work to memorialize the deeds of her family, but after the Conquest historians tell us she abandoned this project and concentrated on her husband, the less dangerous subject. In THE SONS OF GODWINE and FATAL RIVALRY, I am telling the story as it might have survived had she collected and passed on the memoirs of her tragic brothers.

This book is part two of The Last Great Saxon Earls series. Book one, GODWINE KINGMAKER, depicted the rise and fall of the first Earl of Wessex who came to power under Canute and rose to preeminence at the beginning of Edward the Confessor’s reign. Unfortunately, Godwine’s misguided efforts to champion his eldest son Swegn recoiled on the whole family, contributing to their outlawry and Queen Editha’s disgrace. Their exile only lasted one year and they returned victorious to London, though it was obvious that Harold’s career was just beginning as his father’s journey was coming to an end.

Harold’s siblings were all overshadowed by their famous brother; in their memoirs we see remarks tinged sometimes with admiration, sometimes with skepticism, and in Tostig’s case, with jealousy. We see a Harold who is ambitious, self-assured, sometimes egocentric, imperfect, yet heroic. His own story is all about Harold, but his brothers see things a little differently. Throughout, their observations are purely subjective, and witnessing events through their eyes gives us an insider’s perspective.

Harold was his mother’s favorite, confident enough to rise above petty sibling rivalry but Tostig, next in line, was not so lucky. Harold would have been surprised by Tostig’s vindictiveness, if he had ever given his brother a second thought. And that was the problem. Tostig’s love/hate relationship with Harold would eventually destroy everything they worked for, leaving the country open to foreign conquest. This subplot comes to a crisis in book three of the series, FATAL RIVALRY.

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Like much of the eleventh century, the fate of Harold’s children is somewhat vague. We have a pretty good idea about the immediate years after the Battle of Hastings, but with the exception of Harold’s daughter Gytha we don’t exactly know what happened to them.

Harold’s long relationship with his handfasted wife Edith Swanneck produced five or six children. Godwine, the eldest, was named after Harold’s father. Then we have Edmund (named after Edmund Ironside?), Magnus, Gunhild and Gytha. The youngest son, Ulf, was probably from this marriage, but some historians think he was the twin brother of Harold from his father’s second marriage to Ealdgyth, sister of Edwin and Morcar and (uncrowned) Queen of England.

From the first, we don’t know what happened to Edith Swanneck. Legend has it that she was brought to the battlefield to identify King Harold’s mangled corpse, based on marks that only she would know. After that, she presumably accompanied the body to Waltham Abbey for burial, but we know nothing further after that. Where were the children all this time?

We know that Gunhild took refuge in Wilton Abbey, a favorite establishment of her aunt Editha (Edward the Confessor’s wife). Perhaps Gunhild was already settled at the Abbey for her education and thus remained there after the battle. Years later, she left the Abbey in the company of Count Alain le Roux, Lord of Richmond, who was the recipient of many estates belonging to her mother. It seems that she had little vocation for the veil and took advantage of an opportunity to go back to her own lands. She and Alain lived together until his death, and afterwards she took up with his brother, Alain le Noir who inherited the estates. After le Noir’s death, she disappears from the records.

The three eldest sons of Edith may well have accompanied their mother to Ireland. Diarmaid of Leinster, the same King who sheltered Harold Godwineson back in 1051, is said to have welcomed Harold’s sons in their exile. It’s also possible that they went to Exeter, a stronghold of the Godwine family where their grandmother Gytha resided. Exeter became a focal point of local rebellion; King William took this threat seriously enough to lay siege to the city for 18 days in the winter of 1068. Apparently the besieged were not in agreement, for they capitulated to William while Gytha, accompanied by her allies, fled to the island of Flat Holm in the Bristol channel and stayed for many months.

The Irish King permitted the sons of Harold to recruit a fleet of mercenaries and invade England on two separate occasions; the last invasion proved a costly disaster in manpower and Magnus was probably killed. It’s possible that Gytha waited until it was clear that her grandsons’ cause was hopeless before leaving Flat Holme for good and traveling to Flanders. She may have entered a convent at St. Omer. Or she might have gone back to Scandinavia, where the presiding King of Denmark was her nephew.

It was thought that Godwine and Edmund probably went to Scandinavia as well, along with their sister Gytha. If they thought King Swegn would help militarily, they were destined to be disappointed. Our knowledge of their fate disappears after this, but Swegn was able to use his influence to set young Gytha up in a royal marriage. Her new husband, Vladimir Monomakh, prince of Smolensk was said to be handsome and rich, and she lived, in apparent contentment, until 1107.

Ulf, surprisingly, ended up a hostage in William the Conqueror’s court. Whether he was captured after the Exeter siege (which would make him a son of Edith Swanneck) or captured as a baby in Chester (which would make him a son of Ealdgyth) is unknown. He stayed in captivity until King William’s death in 1087, when he was released into the custody of Duke Robert, who knighted him and set him free. By all indications Ulf wisely stayed on the continent and has been identified as Loup Fitz Heraut (Wulf son of Harold) whose signature has been found in charters.

This leaves us with young Harold Haroldson, son of Queen Ealdgyth and heir to the throne if all had gone differently. Ealdgyth was heavily pregnant by the battle of Hastings, and afterwards her brothers Edwin and Morcar whisked her off to Chester for safekeeping. It is thought that the child’s uncles might have had it in mind to use him as a figurehead in a future bid for the throne, but they never got that far. When Ealdgyth found herself with no defenders, she is said to have fled to Ireland with her son. After he grew up, Harold apparently found his way to Norway.  In 1098 he accompanied King Magnus III Barelegs on an expedition to Ireland, but all traces are lost after this point.

It is ironic that Godwine and his clan, once the most powerful force in England, should be reduced to historical footnotes in two generations. And it’s even more ironic that through his daughter Gytha and her son (Mstislav I Vladimirovich the Great), Harold’s blood still flows through the royal houses of Europe all the way to the present day.