“My God, Paul, we just got this damn floor down. Couldn’t the old man have died before we laid the stone. Jesus! He has to be buried at the altar!, the most conspicuous place in the whole abbey!”

“He’s the King for God’s sake. He can be buried wherever he wants. Just dig! I’m not going to dig this grave myself.”

The two diggers set to the task to prepare the interment of Edward the Confessor. There would be no skulls to be turned out from under the new Confessor Abbey even though a church had been near to the site since 900. A young monk pressed the two to put their backs in the task.

“Come, you men, the body will be here before you are finished and if you are not, I’ll bury the both of you with him.” The workmen grumbled to themselves, but the shovels bent to the task.

Meanwhile, the body of the ancient king was being prepared for the grave. The body was washed; the face was shaved; the hair was cut and arranged. Two Edwardian coins were placed over the eyes and the body was anointed with oil. The dead king was clad in regal clothing chosen by Queen Edith. Stigand of Canterbury and the Archbishop of York blessed the Confessor and assured Edith her former husband would be sainted.

Funeral arrangements were quickly made. The Abbot of West Minster naturally wanted to deliver the service as he had long worked with Edward in the building of the Abbey. He met with stiff opposition from both archbishops and the bishops who were still present on Thorney Island. Stigand of Canterbury finally settled the matter by edict. He ordered the funeral procession allowing the monks of the Abbey the premier positions. Monks in sack cloth and ashes would lead the funeral parade. One would bear the cross, followed by the choir in chant. Individual monks would carry the regalia of office: the rod, the mace, the scepter and the crown, commissioned by Edward himself. Just before the bier marched a drummer and the Abbot would carry the thurible of incense. Six monks of equal size would bear Edward with secondary crown and sword from the palace to West Minster. Immediately behind the bier would follow the Archbishops of Canterbury and York, a procession of bishops the Queen and her attendants, and then the Lords of the land.

All agreed except the Queen. She would follow immediately behind the casket accompanied by the archbishops.

With that settled, the Witan assembled to consider the succession. It was not a case of , “The King is dead: Long live the King.” as the parliament had to select the successor. Fortunately, during the King’s illness they had had time for discussion and thought.

“Why are we in such a hurry?” questioned Leofwine.

“”My Lord,” Canterbury answered, “This is the Day of Epiphany. If the coronation is not held today, we will have to wait until Easter.”

“Why?”

Stigand shrugged, “Coronations are only held on feast days. Is there anyone not ready to proceed?” No one answered. “Good! There is no doubt about King Edward’s wish. I have reported to you verbatim his last testament and his wish that Harold Godwines’ son succeed him.” It wasn’t as clear as Stigand led them to believe. Edward had hedged and only given Harold the task of caring for the Queen and the foreign advisors of the court. It was close enough for Stigand, the witnesses and eventually the Witan. Harold wasn’t of royal blood, but he had , as subregulus, in the King’s name, ruled justly. He had a king’s bearing and healthy good looks. He hadn’t sought the throne and now he was being thrust upon it. The Witan believed him the best choice of the six possibilities—a capable patient man of strength. In fact, the others were not even considered. He would be crowned that day.

The family gathered at Trivett Vineyard. All of Thomas and Mary’s children were there, the three boys and the seven girls. And, the children’s children all twenty of them crowded about the family home. The vintners and neighbours nearby had come to pay their respects. Sir Richard and Joan, Sir Rupert and Elizabeth, Olan the archer, and Father Francis had come to offer sympathy and mourn with the family. Thomas Senior’s fletchers had dug a grave in the orchard in a spot chosen by Mary and the three boys.

Father Francis conducted a simple ceremony and not a dry eye could be found in the family or in many of the outsiders either. There was a great outpouring in every tear of love, respect, and honor for the patriarch of the Trivett clan. He and Mary had provided for every child. Every one except the bachelor William had a home and a loving family. They had had parental models of excellence in Thomas and Mary. Their children would have the same chances that they had had. They were self sufficient because of their parents, but they would sorely miss the jolly gentle father who hid behind the scowl of his bushy eyebrows. The neighbours bore the pine box to the final resting place and lowered the shrunken body of Thomas. Father Francis comforted the family and with the sign of the cross the box descended into the pit. Family members, crying quietly, took the shovel in turn and added a clod of earth to the grave in a final farewell to the father of the family. Mary waited. She sent everyone away and knelt beside the grave. Her lips moved in silent prayer as Thomas was committed to heaven or to hell.

Within the hour the procession left the palace on Thorney Island for West Minster Abbey. The solemn drumbeat coordinated the steps of the entourage. Not a tear was shed. There were no children. Edward was father of none. His wife and queen was a faithful companion who honored her husband in a loveless marriage. She did a queen’s duty accompanying the bier. Edward’s crowned head and enrobed body was viewed by the populace. The coffin would be closed at the Abbey. The service at the altar was shared by the Abbot, Canterbury and York and ashes to ashes, dust to dust the body of the King was interred by the priestly pall bearers. Before the church had cleared, the grave diggers were back with their shovels. The screech of the steel on the stone drew a few departing glares and the tamping of the soil echoed the drumbeat of the funeral march. Soon the stone slab would cap the grave and the altar would be prepared for another ceremony.

The neighbours and vintners commiserated with the family and Mary, and took their leave. Then the family, since they were not the ones dead, bundled up their children and left to deal with life. Will, with a hug and kiss for mother rode off with Elizabeth and her father Sir Rupert. Thomas went to the stable to retrieve their horses and the two soul mates, Mary and Jo-Anne were left alone in the yard.

“Will you be all right, Ma Mere?”

“Mais oui, Ma Chere. Have you told Thomas yet?”

“Told Thomas!” she exclaimed in shock.

“You are pregnant aren’t you, Ma Chere?”

“Ma Mere, Mary, how could you know? I have just found out myself!”

“I don’t know Jo-Anne. Hear of a death; hear of a birth is the old saying. I’ve always been able to know important things in advance. Thomas and the boys teased me about clairvoyance. Have you told Thomas?”

“Not yet, Ma Mere. He was so torn by his father’s demise. That gradual death was very trying on Thomas.”

“He was always a sensitive child.”

“I will tell him tonight.”

“You have made him a King, Jo-Anne. In this time of sadness you have given Thomas and I a reason to live.”

The King elect, Harold of Wessex, bathed and anointed went to confession in the chapel with Stigand dressed in a new shirt and a golden coat of silk open at the breast. He wore fine hose but by convention no shoes. Then with the lords of the church and the lords of the land, and accompanied by common folk he mounted his charger and rode from the palace to West Minster—the King’s See. The pulpit had been hastily decorated with cushions and cloth of silk and gold. The ancient throne of English kings sat in the midst of the adornments.

The Abbot of West Minster met Harold of Wessex at the door to the Abbey and greeted the procession. The Abbot carrying the Cross, the Prior carrying the Scepter and the eldest monk carrying the Rod led Harold down the red carpet of the center aisle of the nave. The Archbishops followed by the bishops, followed by the lords trod the carpet while the choir of the Abbey sang in greeting. Harold took his seat on the Throne of England. Stigand, Archbishop of Canterbury, came forward and bid Harold rise.

Facing the east he began, “Lords of the Church, Lords of the Land, People of England, Harold of Wessex stands before you and begs your support for his coronation as King of England. What is your will?”

He turned to the south and repeated the question and the congregation answered

Facing the west the Archbishop echoed his request.

“Lords secular and Lords temporal, people of England you shall be witness to the crowning of the King. You have found him worthy of your support. You will swear an oath of fealty to your new monarch, the honest, just, intelligent soldier, Harold of Wessex.”

Harold arose and is strong bass voice began his oath:

“Lords of the Church, Lords of the Land, and Citizens of England, in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost I dedicate myself to the Throne of England, the peace of the land, the well-being of the populace, the laws of England and justice and mercy for all, So Help Me God!”

Canterbury took up the Crown of the Confessor in glory and justice and on the altar blessed it in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost and placed it upon Harold’s head.

The Archbishop of Canterbury came before Harold for the swearing of office.

“Will you hold guarantee and keep the laws and the customs granted to your people of old by devout and rightwise kings beforehand, and will you swear to uphold the laws and customs and the liberties of the glorious King Edward to the people and the clergy?”

“I shall.”

“Thou shall keep full peace and accord in God and to the church , to the people and to the clergy?”

“I shall do.”

“Thou shall keep in all these domains rightful and every rightwiseness and discretion with mercy and truth?”

“I shall do.”

“Grant thou all rightful laws and customs to behold and that thou wilt defend and strengthen and maintain them to the worship of God after all your power?”

“I grant and behold it.”

“Then My King, I become your liege man of life and limb and truth and earthly honors bearing to you against all men that love, move or die, so help me God and the Holy Dame.”

The Abbot of West Minster with the King offered the bread and wine on the altar and the King received the Sacrament of both flesh and blood. When he returned to the throne the Archbishop of Canterbury stepped to the pulpit.

“Lords of the Church, Lords of the Realm, Citizens of England, do you accept this worshipful prince the right heir of the realm to have as your King, subject unto him to obey his commandments?”