No sooner had Harold settled the affair of diplomatic notes through Will Trivett when trouble reared its ugly head in the north. The thanes of Northumbria, Edward’s rabble he would have marked for death, were again incited. Their teen-age earl Morcar, had attended the funeral of Edward and the coronation of Harold, but the independent north felt slighted that they had not been advised. They considered how successful their uprising had been over Tostig and were ready to rise again.

Stigand’s northern messengers returned to London to report the reaction of the north. Stigand reported to the King Harold.

“What? What do you mean they don’t recognize me?”

“Sire, you know the independence of the northern thanes. They feel slighted—‘no one asked me! Do I not matter? Do I not have a vote any more?’ They want to have their Viking say.”

“Damn! Edward was likely right! What do you suggest, Canterbury?”

“Sire, King Edward would have had a civil war over this, but you have always been a formidable debater and diplomat. Visit them. They’ve never had a regal visit.”

“I’ll do it!”

“Morcar! York! Send messengers. We will hold a lordly meeting in York in ten days. York have your scribes present a formal invitation not a demand. York, I want your advice. Who will be antagonistic? Who will be supportive? We will speak over lunch. Gyrth, you will be responsible for London and the palace while I am gone. Edwin, Morcar, leave for your fiefs today in preparation. I will follow in two days with Leofwine—ahh! The Bishop of Worcester and a small escort of house carls. Be certain your thanes are ready for a royal visit. I’ll not take along a retinue of butlers, servers, cooks and such.”

“Yes, Sire.” they replied in unison.

Edwin and Morcar nearly fell over each other to escape London. They couldn’t afford to be embarrassed by a poor reception of the King of England. They would make a plea to their thanes.

Harold threw the palace into turmoil. Travel of a king made for difficulties –not for the king, but for the organizers. Clothing, food, lodging, transportation, and travellers all had to be arranged in two days. Warnings had to be issued to the proposed stopovers. A king just couldn’t drop in. A king just couldn’t be dressed in any old shift. A king just couldn’t be fed any old food. Wolf the butler, and John the valet, were hard pressed to be ready. Harold’s answer was, “ My God, this is a rush trip; forget it.”

They were ready and the twelve soldiers, the Bishop of Worcester, Leofwine, King Harold and valet John set off at a canter for York. Travel went without a hitch. The forewarning by the messenger had prepared the thanes along the way. In spite of the wintry weather they were certain to reach York in five days. With three days until the meeting of the north, Harold had some time to mend fences. He spoke individually to some of the early arrivals gaining support, assuaging hurt feelings and emancipating egos. He stroked them so smoothly they couldn’t remember their complaint. On the tenth day the lords of the north met at York Minster.

The Archbishop spoke, “Lords of Mercia and Northumbria, Lords of England, King Harold and I welcome you in the name of the Father, the name of the Son , and the name of the Holy Ghost to this convention in York Minster. Let us pray,” and he launched into Our Father.

Bishop of Worcester in his red robe and mitre continued, “Your Archbishop of York has done a commendable job of organizing such a vast affair. We have called the gathering together to allay any misconceptions or fears you may have.

During the night of January fourth and morning of January fifth King Edward the Confessor was called to meet his maker. He was so pure of heart he was forewarned by God the Father. King

Edward, in a visitation by the Holy Spirit late January fourth recited his last will and testament before witnesses that included the leader of the Church of England, Archbishop Stigand. After expressions of concern and deliberation he charged Harold of Wessex with the difficult task of the defense and tending of our country England. Since the fifth of January was the Day of Epiphany, the Archbishops of York and Canterbury were obliged to press the Witan of England attended by Earls of Mercia and Northumbria to immediately select a king. By the laws of England and customs of the Church a coronation must take place on a feast day. If Harold of Wessex had not been crowned King Harold on January fifth, the ship of state would have been without a helmsman until Easter, April sixteenth . Just imagine leaving your estate leaderless for three and a half months and you will picture one one hundredth of the problems that England would face. The Witan and your representatives of the north agreed and a hasty coronation was held in West Minster Abbey crowning this man ,” and he indicated Harold.

“King Harold of England!”

Harold’s early contacts responded.

“Long live the King.”

Some of the assembly sheepishly followed suit. Harold rose with his royal regalia and strode to the pulpit. He mounted the three steps which raised him high above the multitude. He waited until they had recognized him above them.

“Lords of the Church, Lords of the country, this hallowed land England, I see many faces I recognize. I have dwelt with you and dealt with you over many years. We have been honest and forthright with each other and our word was our bond. I apologize for the almost indecent speed of my crowning. This was , as Worcester has pointed out, the law of the land. Secondly, I apologize for not consulting the north, but the time element dictated by Church and State did not allow it.

To you of the north, Lords Secular and Lords Temporal 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!

I, Harold of England, stand before you and beg your support in my coronation as King of England. What is your will?”

His leaders sprang up.

By the third call the whole meeting was afoot.

The Archbishop of York and the Bishop of Worcester reswore Harold with the oaths of coronation—to keep the laws, to keep the customs, to keep the peace and Harold kissed the Holy Bible. The assembly seemed satisfied and to a man they swore allegiance to Harold and became his liege men. The tempest in the York teapot was over.

Trouble in the Trivett teapot was not. Jo-Anne’s pregnancy was taking its toll. Her morning sickness began with a violence. She began throwing up with the mention of breakfast and couldn’t stop before two p.m. Up came last night’s supper? Up came yesterday’s lunch? It seemed that was the case anyway. Then she had dry heaves and bile. She was losing weight. Thomas was fretting. He had never witnessed this violent vomitting from anyone.

“Thomas, stop stewing about me! Morning sickness is quite normal for a young mother. I’ll soon be over it.”

“But Jo-Anne, it seems as if it will turn you inside out!”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Thomas. I’ll be fine.”

“I shall get you some help. One of the girls in the cottages can help you.”

“Thomas!”

“Jo-Anne, my mind is made up. I am going to be called to serve Duke William and I’ll not leave you alone.”

“Thank you, Sir Knight.” and she was gently swept into his arms.

The last letter had just arrived from King Harold when further distress troubled the council in Rouen.

“That was a wasted four weeks! Diplomatic marde de beouf! Roger!”

“My Lord?”

“Who in hell can I count as pro invasion of England?”

“Well, My Lord, you can depend on us and ---Roger de Beaumont---Walter Gifford----Hugh de Monfort----William of Warren----uh?”

“That’s ALL!”

“Well, they are definites.”

Anger—and silence—were palpable in the room. “Get THEM!” he screamed in a whisper.

“I’ll send the two Trivetts, MY Lord.” Robert said.

“Yes, assemble when they arrive.” and the Duke left the room.

Sir William Trivett was dispatched to Roger de Beaumont and Warren of Vermandois and Sir Thomas to fetch Hugh de Montfort and Gifford of Longueville . Their journeys should take no longer than three days and the return of the nobles should be accomplished in six . The Duke ,never long on patience, paced and fretted and cursed, but none of his actions shortened the counts arrival time. The last arrival signified the first meeting to Duke William. Walter Gifford hardly had time to dismount before he was ushered into the council meeting. The expanded council expanded by four were called to William of Normandy’s chamber.

“Gentlemen, do you know all of the members in this room?” The two representatives from Maine had to be introduced. “ It has been a month and a half since Harold of Wessex was crowned King. As you know, Edward the Confessor promised me the English Throne. Harold of Wessex swore a sacred oath of fealty on many Holy Relics and the Bible recognizing me as his liege lord. Therefore we passed a series of diplomatic notes with the pseudo king of England. He has ignored or sarcastically answered our charges. We have no choice, but to invade.” The newcomers exchanged looks of wonder or despair.. “We seem to be encountering stiff opposition to our plans. The inner circle has met with outright refusal and closed mouths. We seek your input, your advice.”

“Yes, My Lord,” all replied.

“Roger de Beaumont, what do you know?”

“My Lord, I am ready to support you in whatever action you deem necessary. I will supply the ten knights required by law and see to their arms and food supplies.”

“Thank you, My Lord. Why is your neighbour balking at the same arrangement?”

“My Lord, he contends his fealty oath does not include foreign wars. He will not supply knights or infantry to fight outside of Normandy.”

“Nowhere is it written where knights will serve.”

“Walter Gifford?”

“I too, support you in all endeavors, My Lord.

“But?”

“Border estates do not wish to strip their defenses. If they supply you with men for an invasion, who protects their resources here in Normandy? Anjou and Brittany could roll up Normandy before them.

“Hugh de Montfort, what is your view?”

“My Lord, long have I backed you in Normandy wars and skirmishes. This skirmish will be no exception. You can count on my 10 knights and 20 archers.”

“And what do you hear?”

“My Lord, my neighbors question the worth of the island. There isn’t a decent metal mined except tin. They grow course crops. There isn’t a decent vineyard in the whole country. Their buildings are brush and mud and cow manure. The naysayers contend the profits are not worth the risk.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask William of Warren?”

“My Lord, any land in England would likely be better for crops than mine. I will support your incursion strictly on the basis of greed. I need better land. You can count on me.”

“Good, and what says the detractors?”

“My Lord, we are far from the sea, landlocked. We have no experience with water craft. The sea is dangerous and the Channel gets unpredictable weather. The dissenters of the interior consider an invasionary fleet a disaster waiting to happen. None of them are willing to risk such an adventure, loss of money and loss of life.”

“Gentlemen, I appreciate your honesty and forthright attitude. I am discouraged, but not disheartened by your words. I am open to suggestions.”

That surprised his regular staff.

“My Lord.”

“Yes, Hugh?”

“May I point out that you have not answered any of the questions we four have raised. We didn’t ask for answers and you only asked for questions, but the key to enlisting the aid of the detractors is to answer their concerns.”

“How? And Where?” questioned Robert de Mortain.

William fitz Osbern intervened. “ I suggest we in committee decide the most pristine solution to the arguments and canvas our barons.”

“We can’t visit them all as a group and in a one-on-one encounter you can’t overcome a prejudice.” concluded Roger.

“My Lords, let’s bring them all to Rouen. We will deal with them all at once, answer all their concerns, and unite them behind an invasionary force.” Odo suggested.

“Bishop Odo, you might unite them in opposition too!” warned Hugh de Monfort.

“Time is an element,” the Duke decided, “We will prepare answers. We will have a general meeting in ten days in Rouen Cathedral. Send out the messengers.”

A number of riders were assembled. Each was provided with some of the Duke’s regalia and a selected route to follow. The job of organization fell to Odo, the charging of the riders to Roger de Montgomery and some of the delivery fell to Thomas and William Trivett.

“My Lord, you are summoned by your liege lord, Duke William of Normandy, to attend a general meeting in Rouen Cathedral, Wednesday, March 1, 1066, concerning the state of the Province.”

Off they went. It would be a new way to begin Lent.

“Gentlemen, Lords of Normandy, welcome to Rouen Cathedral, We were pleased to see you at services this morning for Ash Wednesday to show your humility before God and your recognition of the consequences of sin. The next seven Wednesdays will measure your dedication to God and the Church.

However, you were not summoned by the Church nor its minions. The matter before you is temporal and of concern to your liege Lord of Normandy, Duke William.”

“Thank you, Bishop Odo,” and William stood before them, “and thank you ,Gentlemen, for your attendance in this Lenten season. It is a pleasure to me to see the faces of Normandy and the many friends

and compatriots of Norman campaigns of war. You have always stood behind me to defeat our attackers or enemies. It is a pleasure to have such dependable allies. I salute you.”

There was some mumbling and some grumbling in the throng.

“Our crops have been blessed with exceptional growing weather. Our trade has been at an all time high. Our guilds report great demand on their skills. We are economically sound.”

“We won’t be if we have to buy any more longboats,” grumbled a sotto voice in the back.

“My advisors suggest our fine showing is due to our peaceful climate. Since 1052 the Province of Normandy has not had a petty dispute within its borders which is largely due to our family-like aristocracy and no little bit of fine rule.”

We have fought three major battles with Anjou, Maine and Brittany to defend our borders from aberrant attack. All is secure and peaceful.

Now, as all of you are aware a problem has arisen. In 1052 I had occasion to visit Edward the Confessor, King of England. He was so impressed with our state of Normandy, he promised me the Throne of England to fashion in the mode of Normandy. That Throne and Crown of England on the death of Edward was usurped by Harold of Wessex.”

The eldest, Count of Caen, interrupted. “I understood, My Lord, Harold was elected by their Parliament.” A general hubbub followed.

William raised his hand for quiet. “That has to be proven, Caen. Moreover, Harold of Wessex swore an oath of fealty to me before many of your number on Relics of the Holy Church and the very Bible of this cathedral. He has perjured himself in accepting what is not his.”

“So!” shouted a voice from the center.

The Duke frowned, “So, I want what is legally and spiritually mine.”

“Do you think Harold is going to give it to you?” and many laughed at the wit. The Duke singled him out for future reference. This was not going the way the Duke or the council had figured.

“I need the help of Normandy to depose this liar and thief. He controls an army of twenty-five thousand men.”

“May I point out, My Lord, that under the laws of Normandy our indebtedness to you in troops does not extend beyond our borders. I will supply my ten knights for Normandy—but not for England.”

“That’s right! Why should we! Lose my good men!” could be heard in the stir.

Another stood up. “And what of the English. Do you think they will come over to us? Ask any Viking; he hates to fight the Saxons with their battle axes. They will be fierce and determined in defense of their country and homes.”

“No one has defeated Normandy!” the Duke iterated.

“Conan didn’t do such a bad job!” a detractor pointed out. The Duke reddened. This meeting was getting out of hand.

“This does not start with me.” William strove for control. “The Godwines were responsible for the murder of Alfred, brother of King Edward.” The Duke just failed to mention that Harold was only ten years old when Alfred was killed. “It was the Godwines who expelled the Normans from Britain and refused to compensate the Duke of Boulogne for the outrage he suffered at the hands of a peasant in Dover.” But, it was too late and his arguments fell on deaf ears.

“My Lord, the most important consideration of this whole matter you have neglected to mention.

All looked at the new speaker. “How do you expect to get an army to England to fight?”

“You have seen my fleet of longboats. You have paid taxes in support of these vessels. I can transport ten thousand men and enough horses for the knights in these boats.”

“Not my knights!” someone shouted.

“Nor my horses!” said another.

“These are very fine ships!” countered the Duke.

Another stood, “I don’t think there is a sailor among us here today.”

And another, “The English Channel is the most contentious bit of water in the world and the wind is generally west and north at this time of year.”

Another, “How do you expect to row with horses aboard ,and men, or will you teach the horses to row?”

And again, “If you can’t row and you can’t sail to windward you’d better attack Spain.” And laughter broke out once more. William waited for some semblance of order.

“Duke William will this be a surprise landing of your armada or will Harold be fully informed of your intentions?”

“Obviously, Harold has informants,” that William thought might be here today, “and we have exchanged diplomatic notes.”

“So, we would be forced to fight our way ashore.”

“Possibly. But, we can do this.”

“My Lord,” Caen reentered the fray, “is it pride, anger, or greed, the sin that drives you toward this disaster?”

“It is injustice, My Lord Caen!”

“And what can you offer us?”

“I offer you land, plunder, and power. It is yours for the taking.”

“My Lord, I have land and money. It appears you offer death and destruction.”

William, Duke of Normandy strode from the cathedral. Quickly, William fitz Osbern jumped to his feet trying to save the day. “MY Lords, we meet again tomorrow at ten a.m.,” he shouted above the babble.