I Am the Chosen King by Helen Hollick Read Free Book Online Page B

proud, her gold coronet reflected the flickering of the many torches set about the walls. The rubies in her necklace sparkled blood-red. “We have yet to discuss the matter of your marriage,” she said. “A king must take a wife, A king must have sons.”
    “A king must rule his people and serve God,” Edward retorted. “I do not wish for a wife.”
    Earl Godwine spoke, placating. “Lord, is it not your duty—”
    Edward rounded on him with venom. “Do not remind me of duty sir! It is you, and the traitors you breed for sons, who need reminding of duty!”
    Godwine, and Harold beside him, both reddened, both unintentionally glanced up at Emma.
    Hurriedly Godwine said, “I am not responsible for my son Swegn. He is earl under your orders, Sire. He acts against Wales in your name.”
    “With an army of men paid for by my mother?” Edward strode towards Emma, his face contorted by rage. “And where will they march, I wonder, when Swegn has finished playing his game of shadow-chasing in the Welsh mist? To East Anglia? To join with this new bishop who is a lick-spit to you—to swell Norway’s army when Magnus comes, at your invitation, to try the fit of my crown?”
    Emma reacted immediately. “Do you seriously think I would prefer one who is not of my own blood as king? For all that our opinions differ, you are my son. Magnus is not.” With practised skill she returned to safer ground. “Is it not wise,” she said, her tone patronising, “to stem the menace that is repeatedly harrying our Welsh borders? Give the Celts free rein and there will be no end to their audacity.”
    Edward conceded the point, but added with a snarl, “I would have preferred to have been consulted.” His mother was the taller by more than a hand-span, he needed to look up to stare into her eyes. “I will let your new-trained lapdog run on his leash, madam, but I warn you, and you, sir.” He spun around to face Godwine, his slender finger pointing accusingly. “I warn you, if Swegn fails to subdue the Welsh, if he wastes the lives of English men and the coin of my treasury, then he and you will reimburse me for his incompetence.”
    Edward departed, stumbling down the dais steps in his haste to leave. Emma sank into her chair, a brief sigh escaping her lips. Her son tired her so. Swegn would not do well in Wales, he was too brash, too angry to plan properly, but she needed men such as he loyal to her, to be indebted to her. Swegn, unlike his father—or his brother Harold—would never be troubled by his conscience. And if Magnus should indeed consider securing England for himself, should cease his drunken boasting and act upon his rumoured threats…? Well, Emma would need the rash, the ambitious—and the indebted—to ensure her own safety. Could she perhaps retain her position of Queen Regent under Magnus? A pity it had to be Swegn who had agreed to be her sworn man at Wilton, not the more reliable and competent father, but Godwine might change his mind if the Vikings decided to come raiding next spring.
    ***
    Edward sank gratefully on to the embracing comfort of his bed, his arm shielding his face. “Fetch me wine, Robert,” he ordered in a frail voice. “I need wine to swill the foul taste of my mother from my mouth.”
    Robert Champart was already pouring, for he well knew how tense Edward would be after yet another confrontation with that wretched woman. He disliked Emma, judged her guilty of the sins of murder, avarice, treachery and, although it had never been proven, adultery. She would be accountable for that, if not to the justice of this world, then most certainly to the final judgement of God.
    For her part, Emma considered Robert, former Abbot of Jumièges, a zealously religious man of middle years, to be arrogant, conceited, hypocritical and repugnantly over-ambitious. There was something suspicious, she felt, about him. Why had he been so eager to leave behind the quiet contemplation of a Norman abbey to become