“Duke William, we need a council. We can’t afford to wait for things to unfold naturally. We must precipitate the action!”

“Oui.”

“I will summon Bishop Odo----Robert de Mortain----Roger de Mongomery----Roald de Bonnetable----and Reginald de Le Mans.”

“C’est Bien.”

“Come, my Lord, this funk will never do! You must lead.”

“Certainment.”

“Pardonnez-moi, My Lord,” and William fitz Osbern set off. Before his back was turned a fury in red flew from behind a pillar and wrapped both arms tightly about the Duke’s neck.

“Grrr! Grrr! Do you give! You’d better give!”

“Oh ho! My Lisa, I give!” and he hugged her and kissed both cheeks.

“My Poppa! What is your problem?”

“I’ve had some bad news, my Dear. Harold was crowned King of England.”

“And?”

“I was promised the Crown of England.”

“Well, tell Harold! He’ll likely give it to you. He gave me presents.”

“Lisa,” he chuckled, “you always show up when I feel forlorn. You change all that in five minutes and have me laughing.”

“What are daughters for Father?”

“To love their Poppa and relieve their hurts.”

“That’s what ladies always do, Father. They kiss the hurt away and make it all better.”

“Lisa, you are a ray of sunshine on a bleak day. Let’s go and see your mother.”

“Good idea. She’ll kiss it better and take you to bed.”

“Lisa!”

“Come Father! I know about these things!”

“Too damn much by the sound of it.” and off they went laughing.

The Duke’s council assembled in five days. Roald and Reginald from Maine had ridden hard on receiving the news. Men and retainers swelled the castle for the first meeting. William fitz Osbern could see the change in the Duke. His eyebrows were lifted, expectant and hopeful.

“Gentlemen, fitz Osbern will explain our position.”

“My Lords, all of you are aware that Harold Godwine’s son has been crowned King of England. It was almost indecent. They planted old man Edward, tamped him down and crowned Harold over him with Edward’s own crown. All of you were present at Rouen Cathedral May 14, when Harold swore his oath of fealty. He would be faithful to William, Duke of Normandy supporting him in deed, word and council; in peace or in war. He would remain true to William of Normandy until William of Normandy releases him. He swore on relics of the Cross, the Robe, the Blood and the Holy Bible. At his first trial he breaks his oath—a treasonous act.

“He has the Crown that should be ours!”

“Yes, My Lord,” and fitz Osbern continued, “We have a great investment in tools of war, men of war, and our army. We must have England and the spoils of war to recover our investment—not only Duke William, but you as individuals. For example: what should you do with two longboats Roald? To get England we must have a plan.”

Count Roger felt inclined to speak, “We have some plans already—weapons, men, training, horses, longboats.”

Duke William shook his head. “Roger, Tostig claims Harold can amass 25000 men. Three thousand are professional soldiers. Another nine thousand would be part-time soldiers and the rest would be farmers masquerading as soldiers. They are fierce warriors nonetheless. Ask any Viking raider how he fought the English. We have three thousand professional soldiers. How much support have you got from our Norman Counts?”

“Damned little!”

“Exactly! and how much support did Rupert get outside Normandy?”

“Less than Normandy.”

“Correct. We have much to do.”

Roger wasn’t ready to concede yet. “Well, what of the Church support, Odo?”

“It has not been forthcoming. We’ve laid our bribes. I’ve pleaded with superiors. As yet, the Pope offers nothing.”

Reginald rubbed his chin, “It’s a bleak picture you paint.”

“Yes, My Daughter Lisa suggested I just tell Harold I’m disappointed and want what is mine. She says Harold will likely give me the crown.”

All laughed.

“MY Lord, that may not be just a child’s foolish idea. We need time for preparation. We must cement our alliances. We must honor the Truce of God and certainly won’t be prepared before Lent. The diplomatic letter exchange would be face-saving. And, there’s one chance in Hell that Harold may respond.”

“Bishop Odo, as the learned man couldn’t you prepare a missive?”

“I’ll do it, my Lord.”

“I’ll carry it, Duke William.”

“No, I think not, Robert. Let’s send the youngest Trivett. He spent the Brittany campaign with Harold and made a good impression on the Saxon. We have much to do here in Normandy, Robert, and I can use your help.”

The war council went to other matters while Odo began to compose the diplomatic note. A page was dispatched for Sir William Trivett. Will was not to be found in the castle or the garrison. Squire Jean in the armory told the lad Will had collected his bow and suggested the butts or clouts. The lad swore, broke into a trot and jogged to the range. Will and Olan were engaged in a competition. Money was about to change hands. Olan stood to reap the few coins Will had left. With two arrows to loose Olan was up by two in the target.

“Let’s try the last two on horseback.”

Olan laughed, “Come on, you welcher, just give me your coin if you can’t shoot.”

“I could outshoot you with one arm tied behind my back.”

“Is that why you’ve missed the target? I thought it was just poor shooting,” he smiled.

“All right! All right!” and Will nocked an arrow.

“Sir William! Sir William! The council would see you immediately.” yelled the boy from the top of the hill.

“Sacre bleu! That’s too bad, Olan. I figured I had your coin in my pocket.”

“So you are going to weasel out of our bet?”

“You heard the young man. Immediately! The powers can’t do without me.” Will began to gather his equipment. Almost faster than the eye could see, Olan loosed two arrows. Thunk! In the middle of the target. Zzzt! Thunk! The second had sheered the fletching off the first and entered the same hole.

“Much better, Olan. If you keep that up, I”ll make an archer of you yet.” and both competitors laughed. Will caught the page by the hand and slung him up behind the saddle.

“Hang on Lad. Au revoir, Olan.”

“Come back anytime. Your money is good for my health.”

Will’s laughter was carried on the wind.

“My Lords, Sir William Trivett.”

“Come in, Trivett.”

“Yes, My Lord,” as he bowed to the council.

“How is it you have a surname, Trivett? Not many have.”

“My Lord, I thought that obvious. We are an important family and I wouldn’t want to be confused with just any old William,” and he hid behind a broad smile.

The council smiled at the jibe, but William of Normandy cautioned. “Don’t be too free, Sir William Trivett. I made you and I can unmake you!”

“Sire, does that mean you are my father?”

“Mon Dieu! To be young and foolish again. Tell him Odo.”

Odo was still smiling at the repartee. “Sir William, I am preparing a diplomatic message for Harold, Godwine’s son. We want you to deliver it.”

“Yes My Lord Odo. Should I know the contents?”

“No. That is not necessary. You will deliver it directly into the hands of Harold of Wessex. It will be sealed with the wax of Duke William and the oilskin pouch will be sealed by me. Be ready to leave within the hour and make haste to Dives to take passage on the first boat.”

“Yes, My Lord.” Will wouldn’t jest with Odo. He hadn’t the same sense of humor as his brother.

“Return to this room for the pouch when you are ready.”

“Yes, Bishop Odo.” Will backed out of the room and made for the garrison. It would not likely be a pleasant journey in the third week of January. He searched out warm clothes, some his mother had woven out of wool. He found some oilskins to turn back the salt water. He selected his best clothing for his audience with Harold and protected them with oilskin. Of course he knew it was Harold of England not Harold of Wessex. Another adventure—well, at least he liked Harold. He selected his weapons which included his gift from Thomas, the throwing knife.

Off to the kitchen he flew, slipped through the door unnoticed, sidled up behind and unsuspecting Cook and grabbed her about her ample waist. “Enchantez, My Beauty!” She jumped in alarm.

“Oh Christ! He’s back!”

“No, no MY Dear! It is not the Son of God. It is only I, Sir William.”

“What do you want, you leech?”

“Just your love, My Dear.”

“Not today, Will. I haven’t time.”

“C’est bein! Cook, could you spare a bundle of food for a traveller. I’m off to see the Saxons.”

“Give me ten minutes, Will.”

“Thank you, My Love,” and he kissed her cheek. “I will return.”

Will collected the diplomatic pouch, his attire and cook’s life-saving food package, mounted his charger and was off to Dives. With Will’s good fortune a merchant was off with the morning tide bound for the English coast. The captain even agreed to ferry Will’s charger for a price. Besides this luck, a stalled warm front had followed de Gourney’s storm and a mild, but steady southwest wind would propel them to Kent. Within two days they landed in Dover and with some time for sleep, Will rode for London. The Dover- London road was a sea of mud after the winter rains. To save his horse, he took his time to cover the eighty miles, but within the week he had ambled Rouen to London. At the old Roman wall to the city, he was challenged by a guard of house carls, the first indication of increasing vigilance.

“Halt! Where are you going?”

Will had to forego a retort or even quip. “ I am Sir William Trivett, knight and messenger of Duke William of Normandy. I carry a diplomatic message for King Harold from Normandy himself.”

“Let me see it.”

“Then I would have to kill you my good man.-- Instead, you send your commander in charge of this unit.”

A monstrous fellow in leather and chain link carrying a deadly looking battle-axe approached. “What’s the trouble here, Morgath?”

“This fellow claims to have a message for King Harold from the Duke of Normandy. I asks to sees it and he offers to kill me.”

“You can read, Morgath?”

“No, Sergeant.”

“Then why would you want to see it? Now young man, tell me your story.” Will repeated his introduction. “Show me your packet, please, Sir Knight.” Will brought forth the oilskin sealed with the wax and signet ring of Odo. “Morgath, take the gentleman to Thorney Island. Keep close watch on him and don’t come back dead.”

A sulking Morgath and a smiling William rode through the crowded city past St. Pauls and West Minster Abbey and finally to King Harold’s palace. They were challenged. “Where are you going with this Fop?, Morgath?”

“He’s a messenger for the King.”

“I am Sir William Trivett of Normandy. I carry a diplomatic pouch for King Harold. Please announce me.” After a series of checkpoints, Will and Morgath and two alerted sentries reached Wolf, the butler.

“Wolf, I would see King Harold. I have a message for him from Normandy himself. You have nothing to fear from me, my friend. I was King Harold’s squire during his sojourn in Normandy. I am Sir William Trivett.”

“Wait here, Sir.” Wolf looked down his nose and left them. In twenty minutes he returned. With nose in the air and haughty tone Wolf directed, “Sir William, King Harold said he was pleased some irate father, mad beserker or jealous husband had not chopped off your misbegotten head. He will receive you tomorrow at ten a.m. You will follow me and I will find you accommodation and Morgath will tend to your steed.

“You remind me of Hugh.”

“Pardon?”

“Hugh is a butler too. He used to have the same manner and tone as you. He even beat me until I cracked him in the testicles with a six foot ash staff.” One of the guards snickered and got a leveling look from Wolf.

“These two steely gentlemen will accompany you.”

“Thank you, Wolf, but I’d really rather have a pretty wench beside me.”

“That’s not possible. We don’t supply Saxon maids for foreigners!”

“Haven’t they got the same fittings as other women? Oh! I don’t suppose you’d know that.” and Will began to whistle. The guards smiled broadly and Wolf steamed, his face red. As they reached the door Will continued. “I want to thank you, Wolf: you are a real prince. Now it’s late. I’m hungry and I’m covered with your London-Dover road. Find me some food and a tub of hot water like a good butler. You wouldn’t like a Hugh encounter.” Wolf fumed, but Will’s will was done.

Precisely at ten a.m. Will, clean, rested, fed and disarmed was summoned to the throne room. Harold roared,” Get in here you piece de marde! What are you doing to my butler? What are you doing in England?”

Will bowed deeply, “Sire.”

“Get up, you little queqe!” and Harold pounded him on the back and hugged him. “The last time we saw you, you were hanging your backside over a ship in York.”

“Yes, Sire.”

“Well, speak up.”

“Your butler. Sire, is too officious.”

“All butlers are too officious. Don’t threaten them; it ruins their officiousness! Are you married yet?”

“No, Sire, there are too many ladies to please, but I’m enthralled with Sir Rupert’s daughter Elizabeth.”

“Can’t get her in bed, eh?”

“Thomas is married, Sire, with a child on the way. He married Sir Richard’s daughter.”

“Thomas is a home body! Well, what are you doing here?”

“I’m a diplomatic messenger, Sire. I have a communiqué from Normandy himself.” Will brought forward the wrapped document. Harold inspected the unbroken seal of Odo and the seal of William of Normandy and removed the note.

“Do you read?”

“Yes, My Lord.” and the message was thrust back in Will’s hands.

Earl of Wessex

Subregulus of England

Duke William of Normandy, your liege lord, accepted your oath to support said Lord in deed, word and counsel. You swore to aid said Lord in peace or in war, to keep him safe from harm or capture and to speak or be silent in his support. You must remain true to William, Duke of Normandy.

Thus you swore in front of countless witnesses and on numerous relics of God’s Son Jesus Christ, and the Holy Bible May 14, 1064.

The Church and Pope holds sanctions against the breaking of these oaths and the full weight of Christendom may be brought to bear on a miscreant.

Duke William of Normandy

Bishop Odo

“Well, My Lad, that was a mouthful. And, why do you expect I got this warning.”

“Sire, I am not to know these things. I’m just a lowly messenger.”

“Come Will. Only you and I will know your surmise.”

“Yes, Sire. William of Normandy expects your crown. He would have you abdicate in his favor.”

“True. He covets the English Throne. I should be angry about the slight, Earl of Wessex, but I’m not. I will prepare an answer in consultation with the senior members of the Witan. Will you carry it back to your master?”

“Yes, Sire.”

“By the way, Will, where is your weapon?” From the folds of his shirt Will drew the throwing knife. “I thought so.”

“Dismissed. Will ,until ten a.m. tomorrow. Go and practice with my house carls if you wish, but leave my women alone.”

“Yes, Sire.”

Will had no desire to practice with any Saxon Axeman. Will spent his day gleaning bits of information for the Duke. He had almost conquered a bed-mate when Wolf summoned her for duty. Will slept. At ten a.m. Will accepted a diplomatic pouch from Harold and good wishes for a safe journey. Harold had arranged Will’s plus horse’s passage on a merchant vessel out of London and following de Gournay’s route he made his way back to Rouen. Within the week he presented himself and pouch to the Norman council.

“My Lords,” and he bowed.

“Take it Odo and read it aloud.” Odo checked the seals.

Duke William of Normandy

Bishop Odo

King Harold of England is well aware of his oath of fealty sworn before many Normans and his brother Wulfnoth.

He draws your attention to the second item of his oath. “I shall support him by deed, word, and counsel EXCEPT in deference to the wishes of Edward of England.”

Edward of England on his death bed before witnesses: Edith, Queen of England: Stigand, Archbishop of Canterbury: Robert Fitz Wimark of Normandy and Harold Regulus selected Harold Rex as his successor. Harold has filled that role.

Secondly, by law and custom, the King of England, an English citizen, is elected by the Witan, the Grand Council of England. They were of one accord in electing Harold Rex, King of England.

We also recognize that in 1052 the Duke of Normandy swore an oath of fealty to the King of England. So, without doubt, you will be pleased to recognize the Legal Lord of the English Realm, King Harold of England.

Harold Rex

Stigand, Archbishop

“Nom du chien!” Duke William shouted. “I told you the deference to Edward would be trouble!”

“My Lord, we had no choice.”

“Marde de beouf! This is your fault, Odo!”

“My Lord, we may try one more gambit to avoid the war.” Odo suggested.

“What?”

“When Harold was here in 1064 he made a pet of your daughter Lisa. He suggested before witnesses he would marry her.”

“That was in jest, you Fool!”

“Yes, My Lord, but it is also evidence of a broken promise to the Church.”

“I wouldn’t want my daughter married to that swine.”

“Nor I, My Lord, but it adds to the case to present to the Church.”

“All right. Send Trivett back with a note. I don’t like this.”

“Yes, My Lord. However, if he agrees we get the throne by default”

This time Will travelled in a new longboat directly to London. Harold wasted no time. Will hardly had time to settle when he was back on the vessel.

“No! I won’t marry your daughter at twelve years of age!””

William was twice as angry in refusal than if Harold had agreed.

“I’ll tramp that Batard in English MUD!”

“Yes, My Lord!”