Fatal Rivalry: A General #Fiction #Novel by Mercedes Rochelle

Born and raised in St. Louis MO, Mercedes Rochelle graduated with a BA in Literature from the University of Missouri. She learned about living history as a re-enactor and has been enamored with historical fiction ever since. A move to New York to do research and two careers ensued, but writing fiction remains her primary vocation. Her first four books are historical novels about 11th century Britain and events surrounding the Norman Conquest. Mercedes now lives in Sergeantsville, NJ with her husband in a log home they had built themselves.

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In 1066, the rivalry between two brothers brought England to its knees. 

When Duke William of Normandy landed at Pevensey on September 28, 1066, no one was there to resist him. King Harold Godwineson was in the north, fighting his brother Tostig and a fierce Viking invasion. How could this have happened? Why would Tostig turn traitor to wreak revenge on his brother?

See the tumultuous events surrounding the Norman Conquest through the eyes of The Sons of Godwine. Harold and Tostig were not always enemies; it took a massive Northumbrian uprising to tear them apart, making one an exile and the other his sworn enemy. And when 1066 came to an end, all the Godwinesons were dead except one: Wulfnoth, hostage in Normandy.

For two generations, Godwine and his sons were a mighty force, but their power faded away as the Anglo-Saxon era came to a close.

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"Silence," King Edward shouted. "We are not here to determine why the Northumbrians revolted, but how to stop their depredations." That helped quiet the room down. "There is no justification for their illegal actions," the king continued. "They have pillaged and killed my lawful subjects. They have risen up in rebellion against Tostig's lawful rule. They must be punished."

Finally! I stood straighter, more confident now that the king was in control.

Harold cleared his throat. "Sire," he said, beginning slowly. "Are you speaking of civil war?"

Edward turned to my brother impatiently. "Call it what you will," he said disdainfully. "These people must be chastised. They are in rebellion against their king!"

The room fell silent. Edward looked around at the witan. Where was his support?

I could feel myself losing patience, but I bit my tongue.

"Sire," my brother ventured again. "What would you accomplish but more bloodshed? If you compelled the Northumbrians to take back the rule of Tostig, how would we enforce it?"

"Enforce it?" I exclaimed, no longer able to control myself. "What are you saying, brother?" I seized him by the arms and faced him, eye to eye. "We will enforce it with our soldiers!"

"We would have to lay waste to your whole earldom! Is that what you want?"

"If that's what it takes, then yes!"

"Tostig, aren't you listening? They won't take you back!"

This couldn't be my brother speaking! "I beggared myself for you," I spat. "For your endless Welsh campaign, so you could come home with all the glory! Is this how you thank me?"

My brother ignored my taunt. Leaning to one side, he tried to look around me at the king. "Think of what they are threatening, Sire. They are threatening to ravage Northamptonshire as we argue. Think of what they are doing to our country. I was there. It might be better to consider their demands."

I couldn't believe my ears! I tightened my grip on his arms.

"You can't be saying this!" I shouted in his face. "You must have instigated this rebellion! You! Who insisted I raise all the taxes! You knew what would happen! You must be in league with Edwin and Morcar! How could you turn on your own brother!"

The uproar continued, but Harold and I were locked in a private struggle. I stared him down; he was the first to look away.

"I swear!" he roared over the noise. "I swear to you that I knew nothing about this rebellion."

"We already know what your oath is worth," I growled. I doubt anyone heard me except Harold and King Edward.

But Harold was busy pointing up in the air and calling for attention. "I am willing to call oath-helpers to prove my innocence. I have witnesses! I swear I am innocent of this accusation!"

"All right, all right," Edward consented. "That will not be necessary. Now, sit down."

I didn't agree with the king. I didn't move. "My faithful brother." I spat the words. "Support me in this, else you will lose my loyalty forever."

The Sons of Godwine: A General #Fiction #Novel by Mercedes Rochelle

Born and raised in St. Louis MO, Mercedes Rochelle graduated with a BA in Literature from the University of Missouri. She learned about living history as a re-enactor and has been enamored with historical fiction ever since. A move to New York to do research and two careers ensued, but writing fiction remains her primary vocation. Her first four books are historical novels about 11th century Britain and events surrounding the Norman Conquest. Mercedes now lives in Sergeantsville, NJ with her husband in a log home they had built themselves.

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About the Book

Earl Godwine had great plans for his children. But he didn't understand his sons. And they barely understood each other.

This is England in the days of Edward the Confessor, when Godwine and his sons tower over the other great families. Harold emerges as the power behind the throne and would soon become king. Tostig rules the north as Earl of Northumbria. They control all the earldoms except one.
What could go wrong?

We see tumultuous events of the mid-11th c. through the eyes of Godwine's sons. Harold's story is all about Harold, but his brothers see things differently. Their remarks are tinged sometimes with admiration, sometimes with skepticism. Alas, Harold’s rise in fortune is not blameless and sometimes those closest to him must pay the price of his fame.

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Once William and Matilda were seated, the Duke pointed to the table in the center of the hall. "Go, my friend, and take your place by the Bible."

My heart went out to Harold as he calmly stepped down and put his hand on the Bible. I knew how uncomfortable he was, but one could never tell to look at his face. He gazed at William impassively.

"My friends and nobles," said William, getting up and pacing before the assembly. "Earl Harold would return to England, despite my protests. But ere he leaves, I have asked him to swear an oath, before my assembled Lords." He turned to face Harold, who had already broken into a sweat. No mention of an oath was ever made in my presence.

"I would have you swear, my Lord Harold, that you will espouse my daughter Adeliza as soon as she is of marriageable age."

That was all right; he had offered to do so. After a moment, Harold said, "I swear."

"Secondly, I would have you swear to give up to me, this day, your castle at Dover, so that I may garrison it with Norman soldiers." The corner of William's mouth turned up into an almost unnoticeable sneer. He must have known this was impossible. Even if he would, Harold had not the power to give up a royal castle.

Harold looked up at the ceiling, sighing. "To this also I swear," he said evenly.

"And thirdly, lastly, I would have you be my man in England and uphold my claim to the throne of my friend King Edward upon his demise. In return for this, I swear to give you all the highest honors in England, and allow you to retain your earldom."

So William hadn't given up on his design for the English Crown. I was glad I had warned my brother. He stood silent for a long while. I don't think anyone really expected Harold to keep this promise. But if he didn't, he would damned as an oath breaker.

"Swear," shouted William, filling the room with his voice.

I hated Duke William at this moment, with all my heart. Shaking his head, my brother obeyed. "I swear," he said quietly.

"Speak the words, Harold."

"I swear to be your man in England and speak up in your support. Now let me go."

Harold started to walk toward me when William called "Wait" in a harsh voice. My brother stopped and waited.

Suddenly, Duke William summoned a man forward who was sitting next to Count Alain le Rouge. "Walter, pull the linen from the table, and bid your countryman to come forward."

Harold walked slowly back to the table. I know he was dreading a wretched surprise.

Hands shaking, that other man obeyed then turned away, burying his face in the cloth. My poor brother sank to one knee. William turned triumphantly to the assembly.

"See the holy relics of the Saints of Normandy," William blared. "Earl Harold has sworn his oath on their bones. Take heed, all of you!"

Godwine Kingmaker: A General #Fiction #Novel by Mercedes Rochelle

Born and raised in St. Louis MO, Mercedes Rochelle graduated with a BA in Literature from the University of Missouri. She learned about living history as a re-enactor and has been enamored with historical fiction ever since. A move to New York to do research and two careers ensued, but writing fiction remains her primary vocation. Her first four books are historical novels about 11th century Britain and events surrounding the Norman Conquest. Mercedes now lives in Sergeantsville, NJ with her husband in a log home they had built themselves.

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About the Book

Harold Godwineson, the Last Anglo-Saxon King, owed everything to his father. Who was this Godwine, first Earl of Wessex and known as the Kingmaker? Was he an unscrupulous schemer, using King and Witan to gain power? Or was he the greatest of all Saxon Earls, protector of the English against the hated Normans? The answer depends on who you ask.

He was befriended by the Danes, raised up by Canute the Great, given an Earldom and a wife from the highest Danish ranks. He sired nine children, among them four Earls, a Queen and a future King. Along with his power came a struggle to keep his enemies at bay, and Godwine's best efforts were brought down by the misdeeds of his eldest son Swegn.

Although he became father-in-law to a reluctant Edward the Confessor, his fortunes dwindled as the Normans gained prominence at court. Driven into exile, Godwine regathered his forces and came back even stronger, only to discover that his second son Harold was destined to surpass him in renown and glory.

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Canute's housecarls—his personal fighting force—had eventually settled into their own section of London, near the king's residence, complete with barracks, brothels, and alehouses. It was to one of the latter that Ulf directed Godwine, to celebrate his good fortune.

But the Saxon had something on his mind that was more important than celebrating. With his new status came an elevation in rank that placed him almost on a level with a Jarl. Surely this must bring him closer to wedding the woman of his choice. He tried to drink the ale that Ulf shoved into his hand, but the liquid tasted bitter to him. Godwine was not really thirsty; it was time to screw up his courage now before his companion was too far gone in drink.

"Ulf," he said earnestly, putting a hand on the Jarl's arm. Jesting with an old acquaintance, it was a moment before Ulf gave Godwine his full attention.

"Eh? What is it?"

"Ulf, there is something I must ask you."

"Well, out with it lad. We have some heavy drinking to do."

"It is about your sister."

Grimly, Ulf put down his mug. "I hoped I was imagining things. Godwine, do not press me on this."

"Ulf, if I am to be an Earl, does that not make me worthy of her suit?"

The Jarl slapped his hand on the table. "Curse you, man, are you mad?"

Godwine's eyes flashed. "I have never been more serious in my life. I love her."

"Godwine, you are my friend. Else I would throttle you for your insolence. Mind your place. Earl or not, you are the son of a Thegn, and son of a Thegn you will remain. She is not for you."

Ulf did not seem to notice he had attracted an audience. But Godwine did and pushed the mug back into Ulf's hand. "I understand you all too well, Ulf. I am good enough to be your friend, but not your brother-in-law."

"Now, do not take it that way. I am very fond of you and wish you well. How does my sister take your suit?"

Frowning, Godwine did not answer.

"I thought so. Forget about her, lad. She is too proud, too haughty. Why do you think I have not married her off yet? She has not found a man good enough for her."

Thinking the issue closed, Ulf ordered more ale. He was soon so immersed in conversation with the others, that he didn't notice Godwine slip out the door.