The Second Lost Tale of Mercia: Ethelred the King

The Second Lost Tale of Mercia:

Ethelred the King

Jayden Woods

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2010 Jayden Woods

Edited by Malcolm Pierce

“
[Ethelred] was perhaps the only
thoroughly bad King among all the Kings of the English of the
West-Saxon line; he seems to have been weak, cowardly, cruel, and
bad altogether. He was always doing things at wrong times and
leaving undone what he should have done, so that he is called
Ethelred the Unready, that is the man without rede or
counsel.”

--Freeman, Edward. Old English History for
Children pg. 190

*

Corfe-Gate, Dorset

978 A.D.

Ethelred watched longingly as his
half-brother strode with his men to the exit of the stronghold.
They looked so handsome, regal, and powerful. Their spurs chimed
over the cobbles as they walked, their soft tunics rippled in the
breeze, and their cheeks glowed with the pleasure of fellowship.
King Edward, walking in the middle, was in fact the smallest of the
men, and yet he was the center of their attention and devotion. The
sixteen-year-old king had grown to fit his beautifully embroidered
boots, and the crown seemed to glitter more brightly on his
auburn-haired head than it ever had on their father’s.

The king stopped suddenly and turned to look
at Ethelred, as if he had sensed his younger brother’s stare.
Ethelred stepped back a little, hiding in the shadow of a stone
column, and gulped.

“Ethelred?”

Ethelred could see the smiles gathering on
the faces of Edward’s soldiers. They wanted to laugh at him, and
they were only holding it in because he would have been king, if
Edward was not. Remembering this made him straighten up a little
and lean into the sunshine.“Yes, what is it?”

Edward strolled closer, hands on his hips.
Ethelred noticed for the first time that the king was getting a
nice, cherry brown beard on his chin. Ethelred touched his own chin
self-consciously; at barely eleven years of age, he was far from
being able to grow his own.

“Ethelred, I think you should come hunting
with us!”

Ethelred blinked at his half-brother in
shock. Could he really mean it? Or was he mocking him somehow?
Ethelred glanced nervously at Edward’s companions. Were they all
playing some sort of big joke?

“Well?” Edward leaned down, planting a
thickly-gloved hand on Ethelred’s shoulder.“Don’t you want to?”

“What, uh …” Ethelred shifted on his feet,
suddenly conscious of how far Edward had to lean down to look him
in the eye.“What sort of game will you hunt?”

“Game?” Edward straightened up, letting him
go and shrugging.“Whatever game the hawk finds for us!”

“Hawk?” Ethelred’s eyes glittered with
jealousy. He had always wanted to hunt with a hawk.

“That’s right. We don’t have a plan, little
brother. That’s the fun of it.”

Ethelred gulped. The notion was exciting, but
it also made him nervous.“Mother says a servant should be sent out
first, to find the game and—”

“Damn that.” Edward curled his lip and spat
to the side.“And damn your mother.”

Ethelred flushed despite himself. Edward had
never gotten along with his step-mother very well, but normally he
remained polite about it. Ethelred didn’t want to argue with
Edward, but could he let an insult like that slide? He glanced
nervously about, uncertain of what to do once more.

“Come now, Ethelred, do you want to come or
not?”

“Yes.” He felt his heart swelling within
him.“Yes. Yes, I will!”

“There’s a good boy.” Edward knocked his fist
against the younger boy’s shoulder.

Ethelred’s limbs tingled with excitement as
he joined Edward and the tall, proud soldiers on their walk
outside. A warming breeze kissed his cheeks and he took a deep,
happy breath. He saw the horses already saddled and pulled from the
stables, waiting for their noble mounts to ride them into the
forest. He looked out at the sharply rolling hills and chalky
cliffs surrounding the Corfe-Gate stronghold and felt almost like a
king surveying his kingdom. He would join Edward and his men on the
hunt!

“Ethelred? Ethelred! What is going on?”

Ethelred’s heart sank quickly. The voice
belonged to his mother, Alfryth. She stormed from the stronghold,
her silken veil and black robes billowing in a gust of wind. Her
scraggly brown hair blew against her face, splitting her scowl like
so many cracks.

King Edward turned to face her, his men now
behind him. He hooked his thumb on his swordbelt, as if resting it
there, but Ethelred could not ignore how close his hand came to the
hilt of his sword. He said nothing, only glared at her through his
cherry lashes.

Desperately, Alfryth turned her fierce gaze
on Ethelred.“Son, where are you going?”

“I’m going hunting, mother.” Ethelred stuck
up his chin.“Hunting for whatever game we may come across.”

“No, you’re not.”

Ethelred stiffened. He looked to Edward for
help, but the young king had only eyes for Alfryth, and those eyes
were full of hatred.

“You have matters to attend to,” Alfryth
insisted to Ethelred.“Matters for Ealdorman Alfhere.”

Butterflies fluttered in Ethelred’s stomach,
and he saw Edward’s hands curl into fists. When their father,
Edgar, died a few years ago, various nobles and clergymen had
disagreed on which of Edgar’s sons should become king. Ealdorman
Alfhere had supported Ethelred’s right to the throne, as the son of
Edgar’s latest wife, but Ethelred had been only seven years old.
Naturally, most men had supported Edward instead. Though the wise
men had come to a peaceful decision, no doubt it was hard for
Edward to forget Alfhere’s opposition to him.

Alfryth smiled sweetly, seeing the fear and
doubt in her son’s eyes.“As you know, these matters are important,
my son. Much more important than a young boy’s fancy to fill his
days with hunting.”

“Young boy’s fancy!” cried King Edward. He
took a step forward, and Ethelred tensed with nervousness. Edward
was generally a nice fellow, best demonstrated by how kindly he
treated Ethelred, a boy that most would consider his rival. When he
got mad, however, he got very mad; and usually he got the maddest
about issues concerning his step-mother, Alfryth.“Hunting is man’s
work, a man’s way of practicing for battle. A woman like you
wouldn’t understand, of course. Right, Ethelred?”

Ethelred stood frozen, afraid to look at
either of them.

He did, however, glimpse his mother’s smile,
remaining firmly on her face as if everything was going according
to plan.“I suppose I would not understand. And in any case, I
wasn’t trying to discourage you from engaging in such
...‘practice,’ my lord. Some men must practice for engaging in
battle. Others must practice for
leading
men to battle. My
son, Ethelred, will be doing the latter, and so he does not need to
go riding about in the forest.” She held out her hand to
Ethelred.“Come on, then, son.”

But Ethelred ignored her completely. He could
not tear his eyes away from Edward, who wore such a vicious scowl
on his face that it brought to mind the horrific depictions of
bears on some of the stronghold’s tapestries.“Why ... you ...
filth-ridden ...
BITCH!
”

And then he lunged forward, and Ethelred
cowered, as if expecting to be stricken by whatever tremendous blow
Edward seemed about to deliver. But after a moment, he found he was
only stricken by a fierce silence, and looked up to see that Edward
had stopped himself. He stood with one arm lifted, panting for
breath, his fingers inches from Alfryth’s throat and curled as if
already gripping it. But he restrained himself, and stared blazing
into her eyes. Though she stood unflinching, the fear in Alfryth’s
own gaze was horribly apparent.

At last Edward lowered his arm. He took a
deep breath and straightened his tunic. He looked around at his
wary soldiers and his cowering half-brother Ethelred, and a
dramatic change came over him. He forced a lilted smile on his
still-reddened face.“What a waste of time. We have game to
catch.”

His soldiers relaxed visibly and continued on
to their horses. Alfryth remained standing at the door of the
stronghold, chin lifted in triumph, her dark wimple fluttering in
the salty breeze. Edward cast Ethelred one last glance before
departing.

“Maybe next time, brother,” he said. But his
voice was sullen, and Ethelred did not think he expected a next
time, in truth.

Not until that moment did Ethelred comprehend
the true extent of his loss. He realized that Edward had sincerely
wanted to hunt with him. Until now, Ethelred had still been afraid
that it was all some sort of prank—or at least a way to make
Ethelred humiliate himself. He had been so desperate to join the
king and his men that he had agreed despite these instincts. But as
Edward trudged away, he actually seemed disappointed—disappointed
that Ethelred wasn’t coming along!

Despite himself, he felt tears prick his
eyes.

“Ethelred, what is wrong with you? Come
inside.”

“But Mother, I want to—”

“You don’t get to do what you want. If you’re
to be king then you’ll have to do a great many things you’d rather
not do.”

“I don’t want to be—!”

“
Silence!
I don’t care!” She grabbed
his wrist fiercely, then pulled him inside.

He was even more surprised when she led him
to his room and told him to stay there.“But I’m supposed to speak
with Ealdorman Alfhere!” he cried. Then, when she scowled at him,
his face scrunched up helplessly.“Aren’t I?”

Her expression tore between pity and
disgust.“I’ll handle him myself, son. You stay here and practice
your reading.” Then, as an afterthought,“Also, consider why your
father’s wise men chose Edward to be King over you, even though he
was not my son. Think on it long and hard.”

She slammed the door behind her, and though
the chill of winter had supposedly lifted from Engla-lond, he
shivered.

As his mother had suggested, he stayed in his
room and read. He also pondered over the matter of the
witenagemot’s decision to choose Edward over himself. He thought it
made practical sense for anyone to choose the older of the two
boys, considering how young they had been at the time, and the fact
that no one else of royal blood had been available. On top of that,
Edgar himself had said before his death that he wished Edward to
succeed him. But on the other hand, Ethelred was the son of
Alfryth, the present queen: he really should have been next in
line. He wondered whether the wise men’s choice to put Edward on
the throne had been any fault of his own. Then, filling with shame,
he remembered the story of his own baptism.

When the Archbishop Dunstan had held him
underwater and offered the holy sacrament, baby Ethelred had
defecated in the water. Dunstan had pulled him out and handed him
away, crying out with disgust.“By God,” declared the bishop,“this
will be a miserable man!” Ethelred’s ears burned with embarrassment
whenever he heard that story retold, but he also felt anger. He had
been a baby at the time. He had no control of such things.

As he stayed in his room according to his
mother’s wishes and read the Holy Gospels, he tried to gather
encouragement from them. He wondered whether everything that
happened on earth was truly God’s will. If so, what power did he or
anyone else have to change it? He thought that perhaps he was still
too young to understand; adults never seemed to question this
paradox, so surely he must be missing something. In any case, he
found it comforting to believe that his father’s witenagemot had
chosen Edward by God’s ordinance. If God orchestrated everything,
that meant the matters were no fault of his own, at all—especially
not the fault of a helpless baby.

Ethelred’s scholarly pondering helped the
time to pass, at first. But after the sun peaked and fell westward,
thrusting its last orange beams through his window, he found
himself growing restless. He looked out at the sharp hills of
Dorset, their slopes undulating with varying hues of green, brown,
and gray. He wondered what a thrill Edward must now feel, riding
with his soldiers while a hawk flew overhead and the wild pigs and
deer fled in fear. How great it must feel to be a king!

He shook his head of these thoughts,
remembering Alfryth. Sometimes, Ethelred’s own mother frightened
him, and he preferred Edward’s temper tantrums to her mysterious
ways. Why had she insisted that Ethelred stay home today? Did she
simply not want the two boys to feel like brothers? Or did she
place so little faith in Ethelred she assumed he would humiliate
himself?

Or was something else going on
altogether?

He felt a strong sense of foreboding like
cold water in his belly; but at the same time, he felt hunger. Had
the time not already passed for the night meal? He realized with
surprise that the light was waning outside, and yet no one had
summoned him to the dining hall. What was going on?