London - Edward Rutherfurd [62]
This was not to say that all Saxon women were downtrodden. Elfgiva knew some wives who ruled their husbands entirely. All the same, if he chose to use it, the law was on Cerdic’s side.
“The choice is yours,” he explained. “When this bishop comes here, you must be baptized with our sons. If you refuse, I shall feel free to act as I wish. It’s up to you.”
Indeed, as far as Cerdic was concerned, he was acting properly and morally. To Cerdic, the issue was very simple. As a loyal man of King Ethelbert, he had become a Christian, having been baptized earlier that year. However much he might feel sorry for her, as his wife Elfgiva’s duty was to do the same if he asked. The fact that they had loved each other as man and wife for so many years only made her refusal all the more disloyal. The more he considered it, the clearer it became to him: there was a right course and a wrong course; black and white. Elfgiva’s duty was clear. Whether anybody liked it or not, there was nothing further to be said.
That the Christian Church frowned upon both polygamy and divorce was something Cerdic did not know. But this was not his fault. The Catholic missionaries, although usually men of fearless courage and deep dedication, were also wise, and in the matter of ancient customs they usually followed a simple rule: “First convert them to the faith, then start to change their customs.” It would be many generations before the Church would be able to wean the Anglo-Saxons from polygamy.
The girl in question was young, the daughter of a fellow like himself with a fine estate not far from Bocton. “I’d thought of her for one of your sons rather than you,” her father had remarked mildly when Cerdic had called upon him the day before. This, indeed, was the arrangement the two men had privately come to. If Cerdic put away his wife, the girl should marry him; if not, his eldest son. She was a nice, sensible and pretty young Saxon who liked the ordered life of Kent, to which she so entirely belonged. She also agreed to be baptized.
I should have married a girl like that in the first place, Cerdic had thought to himself as he rode from Bocton towards Lundenwic. She’d never have given me trouble like Elfgiva, from her wild East Anglian shores.
She was young, too. Was that part of it? Hadn’t he suddenly felt youthful again, rejuvenated by the presence of this fresh fifteen-year-old maiden who might be his? Perhaps. Did he secretly fear the loss of his strength? No, he told himself, not for a long time yet. In any case, he reminded himself, if Elfgiva behaved like a proper wife, she had nothing to fear.
So it was, faced with this humiliating ultimatum, that Elfgiva listened and bowed her head. She did not even ask who the other woman was. She said nothing at all.
The day after his conversation with Elfgiva, Cerdic decided to deal with his sons.
In a way, he was rather looking forward to it. Although he was quite determined that they must submit, he would be disappointed if they did not show some resistance.
They’re young bulls, he told himself. But I dare say I can still master them. Now, standing before them, in front of his hall, he spoke sharply. He did not choose, at this stage, to tell them about his threat to their mother, but he explained about the arrival of the bishop and King Ethelbert’s request. “We are all his men,” he reminded them. “You will therefore take this new religion as I have.”
The four young men stood there awkwardly. He could see they had been discussing the matter amongst themselves, for now they all turned to the oldest, a stalwart fellow of twenty-four, who spoke for them.
“Is it really our duty to forswear our own gods for the king, Father?”
“The king’s gods are ours. I’m his man. The King of Essex has already promised to follow King Ethelbert,” he said, to encourage them.
“We know. But did you know that the King of Essex’s sons are refusing to follow their own father? They say they won’t worship this new god.”
Cerdic reddened. He had not heard this, but he saw the implication well enough.