London May 1068
Alan and Anne sat at ease in comfortable chairs in the Solar of their London town-house at Holebourn Bridge, just outside the city walls at Newgate. The house had been substantially renovated and extended since their purchase of a bankrupt Englishman’s property the year before via Malachi the Jew. With them sat Alan’s English scribe Osmund. A slightly ferret-faced tall, thin and balding Englishman named Gareth was being shown into the room by Alan’s young servant Leof, who had been sent to the disreputable tavern in the Shambles called ‘The Dancing Bear’ to fetch the Londoner. Gareth was extremely unprepossessing, dressed in clean but poor clothing, but Anne had explained to Alan the importance of her relationship with the man who she had engaged as her spy after the failed assassination attempt made against Alan in late November.
It was Thursday the 28th of April 1068, three days before the Feast of the Ascension on 1st of May. King William’s wife Matilda was due to be crowned Queen of England on Pentecost, the 11th May. Alan and Anne had travelled south from Essex and arrived the day before after a leisurely two day journey from Thorrington in Tendring Hundred near Colchester, Anne and two maids travelling on a light cart in the beautiful spring weather.
“Thank you for agreeing to come to see me, Gareth,” she said, patting the small rotundity of her five-month pregnant belly.
“Congratulations, m’lady,” said Gareth in a gravelly voice that showed his origins near the wharves of London.
Anne nodded. “Thank you for a job well done before Christmas,” she said, referring to the fact that Gareth, unable to determine which of three important officials upset by Alan’s complaints on behalf of the English regarding financial abuses had attempted to assassinate him, had provided a warning by stabbing a long dagger into the bed next to the head of each as they slept and placing an arrow beside their pillow.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t find out which I was. I’m reasonably sure it was Ralph the Staller,” he said, referring to the earl of East Anglia. “One of his men left the hunt abruptly at about the point Sir Alan was shot in the back, but I wasn’t able to obtain confirmation.”
Anne smiled and said, “I heard that Bishop William wet himself when he woke and spent two days by the altar at St Paul’s, and Earl Ralph dismissed the captain of his Guard.” Gareth smiled and nodded in reply. “Anything further?” asked Anne.
“Not at this time m’lady. You’ve been out and about in the wilds, so I’ll keep my ear to the ground now that you’ve returned back to civilisation. Obviously m’lord will need to take suitable precautions. Wandering back alone from a tavern in the town late at night while the worst for drink would not be a good idea! We may have frightened them off, or we may have just frightened them a little and made ’em more cautious. My henchmen have been out and about since you returned yesterday, but have no results as yet.” He paused while Aidith the serving-wench delivered a pint of ale and waited until she had left and the door closed again. He took a pull of the ale, sighed in pleasure and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Anne then spent some considerable time questioning him on the current state of the convoluted politics of both the Norman royal court and the English nobles to bring herself up to date, before thanking him for his time and dismissing him.
“He’s worth every penny of?5 a month,” said Anne. Alan winced at the reminder of the cost, similar to that of buying a manor, but had to admit that due to the trading business conducted by Anne they could more than afford the cost. After all, she didn’t quibble about his spending funds to equip and maintain a small army.
** * *
Anne had arranged another poetry recital for Beltane Eve, the night of 30th April, one of the two times of the year when mortal rules were believed to be suspended and supernatural occurrences were most common. She decorated the Hall in an appropriate manner and had advised the guests that the evening would not be late, as that year the Feast of the Ascension fell on the following day. Sunset was due at 7.30 in the evening and she had arranged for the soiree to commence at 3 in the afternoon.
Once again she had arranged for half a dozen musicians, with flutes, pan-pipes, lutes, a tambour and a harp. Osmund would again perform, together with two other poets hired for the occasion. The program would include French, English, Roman and Greek pieces. Most of these the largely uneducated noble ladies attending would not understand the poems, but Anne’s music parties were quickly becoming ‘must go’ social occasions and invitations were gladly accepted.
This time Anne had concentrated on a different clique of women to those invited to her previous performances. On this occasion she had invited Hawise Sourdeval, wife of Stephen Count of Brittany; Beatrice de Builly, wife of Robert Count of Eu; Adelize de Tosney, wife of William fitzOsbern; Heslia Crispin, wife of William Malet and, the jewel in the crown of the evening, King William’s niece Countess Judith. Alice de Tosney, wife of Roger Bigod and Anne’s close friend was also in attendance, as were several English women of high status, including Erlina the wife of Thorkel of Arden, and Aethelu, the wife of Regenbald the Chancellor. Of particular note amongst the English ladies was Adelina of Lancaster, the newly married bride of William Peverel, who was a Norman and close associate of King William- Peverel being half-English himself with an English mother named Maud who had been the daughter of the noble Ingelric.
With the exception of Countess Judith most of the ladies of the Norman court were not used to fine dining. Usually the ladies stayed at home while their husbands roamed the countryside either fighting or attending on their duke. The noble husbands were used to campaigning and wouldn’t notice if they were served a boiled boot to eat, as long as it was cut up fine and had a sweet-tasting sauce. The fare that Anne had arranged was entirely of a different dimension. The guests were met by servants with cups of sweet white wine from the Loire. Mead and innocuously-presented fruit punches, heavily laced with white wine, flowed like water. Exotic finger-food was presented- savory pastries, candied ginger and orange, dried fruit and nuts; quiches, mushroom pastries, truffles, pates and individual Lorenz pies.
The musicians played quietly as the ladies chatted and become quickly more voluble as the alcohol took effect. When the recital began each of the performers presented an item in turn as the ladies sat quietly on the chairs provided.
After the initial set of performances the main course of the meal was served at a side-table, the ladies helping themselves to servings on small wooden platters. Bourbelier of wild pig; braised stuffed quail in white wine sauce; pork tarts with saffron; Picadinho de Carne de Vaca; Egredouncye; cold sage chicken portions, and other items.
The main bracket of poetry, lasting well over an hour, was followed by individual singing performances by several of the ladies, accompanied by the musicians, the singers including Anne and Alice de Tosny, who both had excellent voices. Two of the other ladies rose to stand by the musicians and after a brief discussion on music and tempos cast their inhibitions aside and let their voices soar.
Dessert was presented, made of various sugared pastries, individual fruit pies with cream and fried sweet items such as apple frictella, losenges fryes and cryspes. Then the, in the main slightly tipsy, ladies rose and took their leave to be home before dark — after all it was Beltane Eve and nobody wanted to be out after dark when the spirits were at large. Their escorts were hurriedly summoned from a nearby tavern where they had spent the evening, and the ladies perambulated home.
Still dressed in her finery Anne walked into the Solar, where Alan had spent the evening at first by the light from the glass-paned window and currently by candle-light. Anne insisted that her functions were female only get-to-know-you sessions where she could meet and build relationships with the important women at court, and the only men present were amongst the servants and performers. The ladies seemed to like the relaxed atmosphere and freedom from the masculine supervision of their husbands.
“Good party?” asked Alan, looking up from the book he had been studying. An empty platter at his elbow held the remains of some of the same food that the guests had eaten earlier and the wine jug was half-empty.
“Yes, thank you,” replied Anne. “A nice group of ladies, although in the main somewhat elderly,” said the eighteen year old, referring to ladies in their thirties. “There are some very astute women amongst them. Only a handful can read or write, of course, so the finer nuances of the poetry are beyond many of them, but they enjoyed themselves and at least could pretend to understand what was being said. What are you reading?”
“A medical book, part of the Hippocratic Corpus. This volume is Of Regimen and of Dreams. Brother Leanian, the librarian at Colchester Priory, sent it to me shortly before we left Thorrington. It’s one of the books I found at Gloucester Abbey.” Alan sighed and closed the slim leather-bound volume. “I really have my doubts that disease is caused by the disruption of the blood causing humors in the body, or at least that the medicines and regimens recommended have any effect. Most of the volumes deal with practical matters such as how to reduce a broken bone, surgery, eye diseases and so on. Those are invaluable. As to the others, I don’t know. Brother Anselm, the infirmarer when I was at Rouen Abbey, had spent time with the Moors whilst a captive. They, or at least some of them, apparently believe that the body is sometimes affected by something from outside.”
“Like being taken over by an evil spirit?” asked Anne with interest.
“Not really, but I’ve never studied their books, or even had them explained to me. I can’t read Arabic anyway. It makes some sense, because we do know that a dirty wound will fester and a clean one may not, so outside influences do exist.”
The next day was Ascension Day and Alan’s whole household walked into the city to attend Mass at St Paul’s Cathedral at Terce rather than attending at the small local church of Church of St Edmund the King and Martyr, the latter of which was located outside the walls of Newgate and very close to the house owned by Alan and Anne. The huge stone-flagged nave was packed with the town’s citizens and Alan presumed that the many other churches in the town would be similarly crowded. The nobles were in the main attending at the service at Westminster Abbey with the king and his wife, who at the moment was still only a duchess. The service at St Paul’s was, other than the homily, conducted in Latin, and so was unintelligible to most of the congregation. Still, they could appreciate the singing, the pageantry and aura of holiness- and what you can’t understand is all the more impressive for many people. Bishop William himself presided over the service with several Canons doing most of the work. He noticed Alan at the altar when he was receiving the Host and gave him a baleful look.
Alan had come to enjoy his trips to London as they were something of a holiday from the duties that usually beset him, running his manors, training soldiers and dispensing justice in the Hundred- although he disliked the squalor and overcrowding of the city. It was a pity that looking over his shoulder for an assassin took the edge off his enjoyment. Still Alan was content to spend time quietly at home, in the Abbey library or wandering the city and enjoying its bustling nature, the range of arts and crafts represented by the various guilds and the incredible variety of goods available.
Anne’s advancing pregnancy somewhat restricted the shopping trips that she so loved, but meant that she had ample time to deal with the trading and shipping business she ran. The goods that had been in the warehouse in Fish Street on their last visit were long gone- sold, replaced and sold again. Her small fleet had begun to ply the seas for the season in early April after the spring storms had abated. At the moment the Zeelandt, captained by the Norwegian Bjorn, an elderly red-bearded man of immense experience, courage and good-humor, was sitting at the London docks unloading its cargo of fine Bordeaux wine. On its return trip it would carry ingots of copper and tin from the mine in Devon now partly owned by Anne, barrels of whale oil and salted or dried fish from Norway, barrels of Stockholm tar and bales of English cloth and wool. The goods from Norway and the Baltic had been brought south by another of Anne’s ships, the Birgitta.
Of the other ships in the small fleet, Birgitta traded with the Baltic and Norway, exchanging cloth and wool for preserved fish, whale oil and tar. Stormsvale plied back and forth between Haarlem, Ipswich and London, trading the other items in the inventory for dyes, fine lace and a variety of other continental goods. Apart from exchanging goods, each voyage also resulted in a profit of close to fifty percent. Anne was enjoying the additional time and the convenience of not running a manor ‘in the middle of nowhere’ and using this to best effect to have her business run like a machine. She’d taken the opportunity to employ as her business manager Jacob the Jew, formerly employed in Malachi’s business, and spent long hours with him at the office in the Fish Street warehouse attending to the books of account and establishing lines of credit for the transfer of funds. She’d made it clear that she expected to see him each Quarter Day for a full accounting, either at London or at Thorrington.
Sunday dawned warm and clear and the days were now becoming longer, with sunrise at half past four in the morning and sunset at half-past seven in the evening, giving nearly fourteen hours of sunlight. Alan had hired a punt to take them upriver for a pleasure cruise, just the two of them and the poleman. Being Sunday, they attended at the early morning service at the local Church of St Edmund at Prime and then departed from the stone steps by the river bank at Queenhithe about two hours later. They were leisurely polled upriver past Baynard’s Castle, located in the south-west of the city precinct, then past Westminster and into the relative quiet of the river beyond. Chelsea and Battersea passed slowly by. The river was flowing quite strongly and even close to the bank the boatman had to exert himself.
Anne was sitting at the rear of the boat facing forwards, wearing a broad-brimmed straw hat that Alan had insisted she don to protect her fair skin from the spring sun, and trailing her hand in the water. For much of the distance the river was lined with willows now in full leaf, and in places the woodland came down to the water’s edge. Anne exclaimed from time to time as she saw deer, and once a fox with a long red tail, coming to the water to drink, causing Alan who was sitting opposite her and facing backwards towards the boatman, to have to turn and look. Swans and ducks swam at the water’s edge or could be seen resting on the riverbank. On the occasional mudflat, or in the several swamps caused by low-lying land, wading birds could be seen.
They paused in the early afternoon for the mid-day meal at Putney, after a journey of five miles, leaving the punt to partake of the fare at a local tavern, washed down with ale in Alan’s case and apple juice for Anne. The return journey took much less time with the boatman mainly steering and allowing the current to carry them along. They arrived back at the Queenhithe steps just after five in the afternoon and, as Alan handed Anne out of the punt, it swayed alarmingly as they stepped out. He then he pressed into the boatman’s hand the agreed fee of three pennies. Anne gave Alan a kiss and thanked him for a wonderful day.
They walked past the Bishop’s palace, incongruously nestled between the two fish markets, where fortunately the fishmongers had already cleaned up for the day, and then up Bread Street to call in at a bakery as Anne was tempted by the sight of cream-cakes on display, along Chepe Street and out of Newgate to walk the short distance to their home at Holebourn Bridge.
Anne had arranged for Bjorn, the captain of the trading cog Zeelandt, to dine with them that evening as he was due to sail the following day and she was anxious to hear from him how his first voyage of the season to Bordeaux had proceeded. The old Viking was always a font of wonderful stories once his mind and tongue were lubricated with several quarts of ale.
Bjorn was a big bear of a man. Hairy, aged but still immensely strong, and as Alan could attest still very swift with an axe. His weather-beaten face was dominated by a large red nose and the bluest eyes Alan had ever seen, surrounded by wrinkles caused by years of staring into the sun. He was sitting waiting for them in the Hall, with the maid Synne sitting on his lap and seemingly enjoying his attentions despite the fact that the Viking was old enough to be her father. He released the woman with a sigh of regret, but received a look that promised an interesting night before Synne walked out of the room with a swing of her bottom.
Alan raised an eyebrow to Anne before he greeted their guest. “God Hael! I hope we find you well, Bjorn,” said Alan formally.
Bjorn rose from his seat, embraced Alan in a bear-hug and patted his back, and then turned to Anne. With more gentleness he also embraced her and then gave a kiss, a pat on the bottom and, after a step backwards, a pat on the belly. “Growing fat!” he commented with a smile. “Due late summer? I thought so!” he gave her another kiss, Anne giggling as the whiskers of his large red beard and moustache tickled. Bjorn clearly had a relaxed attitude of dealing with his employer, treating her like a favourite niece.
“Just a moment,” said Alan, as he quickly went to his office and returned with an earthenware quart crock and three small cups. As they sat down he bid Bjorn to down the small portion of ale remaining in his quart pot, and poured into a small cup which he set before Bjorn. He filled it and then poured a thimble-full into his own cup and the same into that of Anne. “From Finland. Aqua Vitae- ‘The Water of Life’,” he explained as he took a careful sip and winced. Just then Osmund wandered in and took a seat at the table.
“Thor’s balls! I haven’t had that for years! Drikke!” exclaimed Bjorn taking a deep pull that drained half of the cup at once. His face immediately turned red. Anne took a sip from her cup, blinked as tears appeared in her eyes and gave a small cough. “Good stuff!” continued Bjorn, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Alan hoped he wasn’t going to drink the whole jug, as even with Bjorn’s capacity it would put him into an alcoholic coma and he was due to sail next day. Bjorn filled his cup back to the brim, offered the jug to Alan and Anne, both of whom shook their heads, and to Alan’s surprise he then put the stopper back into the crock and placed it firmly on the table out of his own reach. Clearly he had drunk Aqua Vitae previously and respected the fierce spirit.
“How went the journey to Aquitaine?” asked Anne.
“Well enough,” replied Bjorn. “It was a little stormy on the way there, and the return took longer than I’d like. We were stuck in Lorient for over a week waiting for the wind so we could get around Finistere. Your Factor in Bordeaux is doing a good job. He’s importing spices and other luxury goods directly from the Moors. There are five-pound sacks of grains of paradise, saffron, ginger and cumin. There’s turmeric from further east for curries, together with black pepper, cinnamon and cassia. Nutmeg and mace. Damned expensive stuff. Costs nearly the same as gold, but that is the Factor’s worry not mine. I’m just transport. Not to worry! I store them ‘high and dry’.”
“Some of them are actually worth more than gold, particularly the saffron,” said Anne in a quiet voice.
“Do you know, we actually ate gold at a party last year,” commented Alan. “One of the dishes of food was gilded with gold leaf. How stupid can you be, to be that ostentatious just to impress people with how rich you are? It’s not as if it has any flavour.”
Bjorn shook his head in amasement at the antics of the nobles. “Just give me a good smoked pork hock to chew and a jug of the Aqua Vitae!” he replied.
“Any problems with pirates?” asked Anne.
Bjorn waved a dismissive hand. “No. After we sank that one last year using the big cross-bow and the fire-arrow, when they come out from Brest, Guernsey or Alderney they take one look at us, recognise who we are and take off like flying-fish.”
“Ballista and Wildfire,” corrected Alan automatically, and then asked, “Flying-fish?” certain that Bjorn was making a joke.
“Yes, there are fish that fly. Their fins are like little wings and when they’re being chased by bigger fish they jump out of the water and fly for… oh fifty paces or so. You see them mainly in warmer waters. You can catch them with hand-nets, or they may fall onto the deck. Very sweet eating,” replied Bjorn. The lack of a mischievous twinkle in his eyes made Alan believe him, no matter how outlandish the story.
Just then the servants brought in dinner. It was the simple but tasty fare that they preferred at home. In this instance beef and kidney pie, herb pork sausages and rabbit stew, with mustard vegetables and fresh bread. They were aware that Bjorn hated eating fish, as a result of his upbringing in Norway where there were few other sources of protein. Dessert was a variety of piquant cheeses with bread and fresh butter- Neufchatel, Roquefort, Gorgonzola, Cheshire and Romano, mainly imported from France or Italy- and dried or candied fruits and nuts. Bjorn reverted to ale after he had finished his cup of Aquae Vitae. Alan and Osmund drank a fine Bordeaux wine and Anne fruit cordial as she was making an effort to reduce her drinking due to her pregnancy.
“You promised last time to tell us about your journey to Vinland,” reminded Anne.
“Ah!” replied Bjorn. “That was a few years after the voyage down the Volga to Constantinople and back via the Levant, Greece, Italy and Iberia. I’d spent my gold by then and was again a sailor with little in my purse. It should’ve been enough to last me for life, but it’s surprising how a sailor can spend money,” he said with a smile. “That voyage was also with Knut Sweinsson, three longboats this time. It would have been in… oh about ’32 or ’33. I was twenty-five. We were promised that the voyage west would see us rich. Fucking liars! It was 250 miles west across open ocean to the Shetlands, then 250 more north-west to the Faeroes- both windswept desolate hell-holes. Why anybody would want to live in either place I know not- I thought Norway was bad enough. Then 400 miles north-west to Iceland. It was summer, so the weather was reasonable. Iceland is just a land of rocks and ice. Some grasslands in the south grazed by sheep.
“Greenland- another 1,500 miles west. It has some trees and vegetation. The local Norwegians farm cattle, hunt and trade seal and other furs and whale oil. There are native people there, broad flat faces and slanted eyes, who don’t cause any real problems. They’re nice enough people.
“Then Vinland. Sail south-west nearly 2,000 miles further and you can’t miss it. It’s fucking huge, but you do need to go some distance south down the coast to find reasonably hospitable conditions. There’s forests, grassland, lakes and wild animals. Deer, elk, seals, including one whose young has pure white fur. Lots of birds and fish. We had a good look around and couldn’t find signs of any minerals except coal. Nothing you couldn’t find a lot damn closer to home!
“In the recent past the Vikings had two settlements for a very brief period of a year or two. It is difficult to set up colonies so far away and when the natives, the skr?lingar, are very fierce. We spent the winter in Vinland and sailed back the next year, nearly starving and totally penniless. The natives in both Greenland and Vinland have nothing we want, and want nothing we have. They wear skins, have weapons of stone and bone and live in houses made of animal skins or pieces of wood. They have no money and no precious metals or jewels. They don’t want any trade, even if they had something to trade. At least the natives in Greenland don’t fill you full of arrows or try to stick a spear in your guts every time they see you.
“ Knut died in Vinland at our camp, killed by the skr?lingar, as were many of our men. If he hadn’t been, when he got back he would have gutted King Sveinn Knutsson like a fish for gulling him into undertaking the voyage by promising a rich land where you just had to bend over to pick up the gold pieces. Three ships and 210 men departed. One ship and 21 men returned, without a single silver penny to their name.”
Alan, Anne and Osmund spent the evening picking further details out of Bjorn’s capacious memory and enjoying the story.
On Tuesday 6th May the King’s Council, the Curia Regis, the Norman-dominated successor to the Saxon Witenagemot, was convened in the Hall at Westminster Palace as the bells of the adjacent abbey rang for Terce. Archbishop Stigand of Canterbury blessed those attending and intoned several prayers in Latin. Chancellor Regenbald called the meeting to order and began to conduct the meeting on behalf of King William, who sat on the raised dais next to Regenbald with Duchess Matilda his wife at his side.
The royal couple wore thick robes of red velvet together with, in William’s case, a small gold crown- and for Matilda a golden diadem. Alan was sure that they would spend an even more uncomfortable day than he, despite the padded cushions on which they sat. Already the room was warm and the atmosphere was rank with the smell of many unwashed bodies. With the heat, lack of ventilation and relative darkness in the Hall, Alan expected that the soporific effect would soon have most of those assembled nodding off to sleep. No agenda had been circulated or announced, but the front benches were packed with the king’s close associates, including Roger de Montgomerie, Hugh de Grandmesnil, Geoffrey de Mandeville, Richard fitzGilbert, William de Warrene, Count Stephen, Robert Count of Eu, William Peverel and Hugh de Montford, the English earls Waltheof, Edwin and Morcar, the English archbishops Stigand and Ealdred- and not least the king’s half-brothers Bishop Odo of Bayeux, Robert Count of Mortain and his cousin William fitzOsbern.
Those who were not present was of as much interest as who were. Edgar the Aetheling, the last of the line of King Alfred, had fled north to Scotland with a number of nobles, including Maerle-Sveinn who had been sheriff of Lincolnshire under Harold and who had previously been confirmed in that position by William.
Apart from Matilda, two women were in attendance on the front row of seats. Queen Edith, widow of Edward the Confessor, and King William’s niece Countess Judith. Behind them sat the lesser lords, including Roger Bigod, Hugh fitzGrip, Ivo Taillebois and many other Norman lords, together with the many Norman and English bishops and middle-level thegns such as Tovi, sheriff of Somerset, Thorkel of Arden and Eadric of Wiltshire. Alan sat amongst this august group. Behind again sat a rabble of assorted persons whose position at such proceedings was at best questionable.
Proceedings started with a rambling discussion of disputes between several bishoprics as to land, offices and privileges. King William and the duchess sat and listened to the sometimes heated arguments for an hour or so, before rising to leave at a suitable break. All present stood as the couple walked into a side-room arm-in-arm, the diminutive duchess appearing very small alongside her husband. There was a general break for a few minutes while some of the others, particularly in the front ranks of the nobility, also chose to retire. A few of the more conscientious left scribes to take notes of important points for their later attention.
At about eleven in the morning, as the second of the ecclesiastical disputes was about half-heard, Alan gently lifted the head of a quietly snoring Roger Bigod from his shoulder and leaned him back in his chair before rising to squeeze down the row of Curia members and out into the corridor outside. A flunkey directed him to first the garderobe where he relieved himself, and then the refreshment rooms. As a member of the Inner Council Alan was entitled to join the ‘rich and famous’ in the room set aside for their use, and entered to help himself to food and drink, both of fine quality. He noted several of the mighty lords either standing or sitting together and chatting, or in some cases leaning back asleep on chairs. Out of interest he called into the room set aside for the lesser lords, largely still unoccupied despite their relatively greater numbers. The flunkey advised there was no room set up for the hoi polloi- if they required refreshment they could leave the premises and apparently nobody would care whether they returned to cast whatever vote they may have.
The second case was winding up as Alan returned to the Hall. He didn’t bother waking Roger to ask him his opinion and voted based on what he had heard so far, the case seeming quite simple.
There appeared little logic in the way that matters were presented to the Council, or whether the king was in attendance in the chamber or not. His comings and goings didn’t appear to be determined by the seriousness of the matters at hand. Knowing the administrative abilities of both William and Regenbald, Alan could only assume that the muddled presentation was deliberate.
After a break for a leisurely luncheon, the king was in the chamber when the issue of rulership of Northern Northumbria was discussed. This land had long been ruled by the Bamburgh family, with a line of earls going back to the time of Alfred the Great and beyond. Whilst there would hardly have been a person in the Chamber who was unaware of recent events, Chancellor Regenbald ran through the details to be entered into the written record being taken by several scribes. The appointment by King Edward of Earl Tostig, Harold’s brother, his rejection by the northerners due to his alleged depredations, his subsequent revolt and dispossession which led to the Norwegian invasion the month before the other invasion led by William, Tostig’s death fighting beside the Norwegians at Stamford Bridge against his brothers, the appointment the year before by William of the Englishman Copsi from Yorkshire as earl and his prompt murder just five weeks later, almost as soon as he set foot north of the Tyne, by Osulf of the Bamburgh family- this taking place at Newburn.
Copsi’s murder was particularly reprehensible in that when the house where he was staying had been attacked he had fled to a nearby church for sanctuary and his attackers had burnt the church down- Osulf himself decapitating Copsi as he sought to escape the building, raising the bloody head in triumph on the steps of the burning church. Osulf had in turn died in the autumn, apparently killed by a band of robbers.
Regenbald announced that it was the king’s decision to appoint Gospatric, son of Maldred and of the Bamburgh family, as earl of Bamburgh. Alan wondered privately how much the purchase of this position had cost Gospatric. Nobody saw Copsi’s murder as an expression of anti-Norman feeling. His crime had been to be a Yorkshireman in Northumbria- and the men of the north hated the southerners at least as much as they hated the Normans.
Regenbald also announced the king’s decision regarding changes in the clergy. Wulfwig, the bishop of Dorchester-on-Thames, had died and now Regmigius, a French clergyman from Fecamp, was appointed. Godric, the abbot of Winchester, was deposed for ‘salacious activity’. His replacement was another Englishman, Aethelwig the abbot of Evesham. Abbot Beorhtric from Malmesbury was moved to Burton and replaced with a Frenchman named Turold, who was also from Fecamp Abbey.
Next followed several cases regarding disputed ownership of land. Beorhtsige of Foulton and Brune of Tolleshunt, both from Essex, lost their land as they could not produce the landbocs and their predecessors had died at Hastings. Westminster Abbey lost Kelvedon Hatch, as its donor Aethelric had fought against King William before his coronation. The abbot of St Benet’s Holme in Norfolk, Aefwold, was exiled for organising the defence of the east coast at the request of Harold, and his men Eadric and Ringulf lost their lands and were exiled with him. The meeting petered out late in the evening, largely as everybody of any influence had already departed to their quarters.
The next morning the Curia resumed with the announcement that Bishop of Wells Giso had been restored the manor of Banwell in Somerset, which had been taken from him by Harold. Next Regenbald dealt with the revolt of Exeter in the west, which had been resolved only a few weeks previously. Again, all those present knew the details, as both Norman knights and English thegns paid close attention to politics.
After the announcement of the geld tax that year, Exeter had revolted and ejected the sheriff and his men from the city. In reply to the king’s formal demand for submission, the citizens of the town had been ill-advised enough to seek to bargain with the king. This was probably due to the presence in the town of Gytha, the widow of Earl Godwin and mother of Harold, who had considerable influence.
William’s response had been swift and firm. Despite the season being mid-winter, Exeter had been besieged and surrendered after eighteen days. Other than encouraging the citizens to surrender by blinding one of the hostages the town had given and mutilating another by removing his nose, King William had shown remarkable clemency- perhaps because it was clear that the revolt had little support amongst the English in the south-west. Many of the local thegns had responded to the call to arms to fight on the side of the new king. Also Queen Edith, widow of King Edward and a firm supporter of King William, had interceded on behalf of the town, which formed part of her dowry. Gytha and her party had fled the town before its surrender, most of the noblemen taking ship to Ireland to the court of King Diarmid of Leinster.
Whilst there was nothing of news in this recitation, the political outcome soon became clear. Rougemont Castle had been constructed in Exeter and was entrusted to Baldwin de Muelles, brother of Richard fitzGilbert, and he was appointed sheriff. Brian of Brittany was given command of a force of soldiers to be based at Wells. Robert of Mortain received the manor of Bishopsgate and given permission to erect a castle. The Bishop of Coutances, Geoffrey de Mowbray, was made Port-Reeve of Bristol.
It had been immediately after the Exeter revolt that Edgar the Aetheling and his party had fled north to Scotland, presumably because they expected to be implicated.
After a protracted midday meal, the Curia resumed its hearings during the afternoon. Alan thought the process something like trying to find small jewels in a bucketful of sand, with lots of dross and the occasional gem that made it all worthwhile.
At mid-morning on Thursday, after the hearing of a further land dispute, Regenbald announced that judicial powers in Mercia, except in Cheshire (which was firmly in Earl Edwin’s grasp) would be given to Aethelwig, the abbot of Evesham. Evesham was an abbey much favoured by the Mercian earls, so this of itself shouldn’t be of much concern to the earls, mused Alan, but it certainly showed the king’s lack of favour to the earl of Mercia. The next announcement came as something of a surprise. Roger de Montgomerie was to be appointed earl of Shrewsbury and given leave to build a castle, the land to be carved out of Earl Edwin’s holding. The making of earldoms out of the larger scirs of the major earls was not without precedent, but the scowl of Edwin’s face and that of his brother Morcar showed their feelings about this announcement.
That evening Alan had arranged for several of the middle-level thegns and knights to attend at Holebourn Bridge for dinner. The Normans were his good friend Roger Bigod, Ivo Taillebois, Robert le Blond, Bernard de Neufmarche, who held land near Alan’s demesne in Hereford, Roger of Arundel and William de Courseulles. Roger of Arundel and William had recently profited by the grant of manors following the Exeter revolt. The English thegns attending were Thorkel of Arden who was the sheriff of Warwickshire, Aetheldred of Yalding in Kent, Godric the Steward who had charge of royal manors in Essex, Norfolk and Suffolk and Sigar of Thriplow in Cambridgeshire. There was also an older man of slightly higher rank, Eadnoth the Staller, sheriff and the King’s Master of Horse in Somerset.
They were a relatively young group, most of the Normans in their twenties or thirties, with the English on average slightly older. They spoke Norman French, which most Englishmen of quality could speak fluently as most were well-travelled and had journeyed overseas to the continent, usually several times. The men were a little reticent at first, the English and Normans not being known to each other.
“An interesting day at Council,” commented Roger Bigod as a conversation-starter, taking a sip from his cup of wine and setting it back down on the large table around which they all were seated. He paused and nodded to Alan, saying “Nice wine! From Bordeaux? I thought so. Very nice!” The others had at their elbows, according their preference, wine, ale, cider or mead. Anne sat at the head of the table with a jug of fruit juice. Beside her Osmund held a pint jack of ale.
“Indeed,” replied Eadnoth. “I rather think that the king set a few cats loose in the pigeon loft today. I think that Earl Edwin was less than happy with the effect of the charters on his position.”
Alan shrugged and said, “Well, I can understand William’s position. He invades the country, wins by force of arms and is crowned king. He receives the homage of the country- well, most of the country. Then Eustace of Boulogne, who led the Norman right flank at Hastings, leaves the country in a huff- then comes back and attacks Dover castle before fleeing again. An invasion by the Welsh and some renegade Englishmen in Shropshire lays waste to that shire and Herefordshire. There’s the trouble in the north involving Copsi. Then Gytha, Godwin’s widow and Harold’s mother, incites rebellion in Exeter. The Aetheling and many of his party take horse and flee to Scotland. Presumably they were involved in the revolt. The thing I found surprising was that King William neither burnt Exeter to the ground nor demanded much in the way of recompense.”
Eadnoth put his pitcher of ale on the table and wiped his moustache before he said, “That was probably because I and others made it clear to the king that the revolt had little general support in the west, and indeed little enough support even in the town. Myself and a number of other thegns brought men to fight with King William; also Queen Edith used her position and influence on the king.”
“The king seems concerned about the defection of the Aetheling,” said Ivo Taillebois, who held land in the mid-north. “That’s not surprising considering William treated him so well. He’s not only confirmed him in his previous extensive lands, but also gave him new lands and honours. It seems that it’s going to make the king more suspicious of the English in the future and may be why he’s started to clip the wings of the earl of Mercia.”
“As you said it’s probably not surprising, but also probably not helpful,” said Godric. “We all saw Edwin’s face and that of his brother Morcar. I’d be surprised if we’ve heard the last of those changes. It’s a cycle- the more the English show their discontent, the more caution William shows and the more he favours you Normans. That just makes the English even more discontented, and William reacts again.”
“I wouldn’t trust those bastards from the north myself,” growled Eadnoth, like a true Southerner. “Tostig convinced Hardrada and his Norwegians to invade. Then Edwin and Morcar didn’t march south to support Harold at Hastings. Those events together meant that Harold lost at Hastings. If the Northumbrians and Mercians had shown loyalty, William would still be a duke sitting in Rouen Castle. Now, if they show him the same lack of loyalty… well, the king doesn’t strike me as being a very forgiving man and I would expect that the Northerners will suffer his wrath.”
“As will we Southerners,” said Aetheldred. “We’ve already had enough problems in Kent caused by Odo. The English still hold most of the official positions in the royal administration. The church is still largely controlled by men of English birth and those Frenchmen who are of the clergy here in England were largely appointed by King Edward, not William. We have three sheriffs in this room, two English and one Norman, which is about the average. Most of us middle-level thegns, and those geburs who hold and work the land, are largely unaffected. A significant uprising, or a long period of disturbance and lawlessness, can see all that swept away. We’ve been invaded many times before and accommodated our conquerors, eventually ending up once again in control of our own destiny.”
“So lie back and enjoy being raped?” asked Anne.
Godric winced at the imagery and replied, “Not enjoy, but endure. A rape is a transitory matter. Afterwards one may be emotionally or physically scarred, but life can go on more or less as before.”
“But if you struggle too much the rapist may decide to stick a knife in your ribs in response to your biting his hand or kicking him,” agreed Roger Bigod.
“Queen Edith agrees,” added Alan.
“A very, very sensible woman,” commented Eadnoth with several slow nods. “If resistance was possible she’d be in the front rank carrying the flag of Wessex. It’s not, and she recognises that fact and does what she can to help her countrymen. Her intervention at Exeter was essential in avoiding wholesale bloodshed- after all, the town belongs to her.”
The conversation drifted away from politics as the food arrived, delivered to the table on large wooden platters from which the men helped themselves, placing their food onto their bread trenchers, cutting with the knives from their belts and using their fingers, or where necessary a carved spoon, to eat. Alan shared a trencher with Anne and cut her food for her so she could maintain her air of decorum and cleanliness, which is hard to do if the sleeves of your dress are soaked to the elbows with the juices of food or gravy. The chosen fare was relatively plain, as the men were all experienced soldiers rather than courtiers. As it was a Thursday they could eat boiled or roast meats of beef, swine and lamb; herbed grilled capon with yellow pepper sauce; several dishes with exotic spices for the more adventurous; pork rissoles with green garlic sauce; Daguenet peas with ginger, currents and honey; braised parsnip with onions, cheese and spices and Makke beans with onions in red wine. Dessert was candied orange, fresh apple pie with cream and gingerbread. Loaves of fresh wheaten bread were placed on the table with pots of freshly churned butter, the guests helped themselves by cutting off hunks with their knives.
The servants kept bringing the drinks and the men kept emptying the jugs. By the time dessert had been finished the jokes and stories had become ribald, and Anne rose, bidding their guests good evening, and motioned for Aidith the serving-maid to follow her, leaving the further care of the guests to Aidith’s father the butler Aitkin. Although the men were married, and given their ages probably more or less happily, a buxom wench serving at table was likely to end up with her bottom pinched black and blue.
Darkness fell a little after half past seven that evening and the men chatted amiably on, telling taller and taller stories as the cups of wine and pints of ale disappeared. Finally, at about ten the guests called it a night, all deciding that they would leave at the same time so that they only had to pay one bribe to the guards at Newgate to get back into the city as the gates had closed at dusk. The going rate was a silver penny, but if they left individually the guard captain would receive a shilling in total. Like all the well-to-do who had seen hard times, they didn’t want to waste money.
Alan knocked on the Solar door. “They’ve gone,” he advised. “Would you care to come out?”
“A good meeting?” asked Anne, as Alan took her into his grasp and started to hum a tune, after a moment adding the words as they began to dance in the Hall, ignoring the servants clearing up. Once the rhythm was established Alan replied, “Yes, a good opportunity to talk and establish relations between people of different cultures. You take the lead, you’re better at it and I’ve had a few cups.”
Anne sang quietly, just for the two of them, as they moved together around the open floor, before they proceeded hand in hand up the stairs to the bedroom.
On Saturday 10th May the spy Gareth called to see them in the late afternoon, slipping in quietly and presenting himself unannounced in the Hall. Alan made a mental note to chastise Ranulf, the man in charge of the guard.
“God Hael, m’lord and m’lady!” Gareth said in his gravelly voice as he lowered himself onto a bench at Alan’s waved invitation.
“What information do you have for us, Gareth Haroldson?” asked Anne.
“Bishop William, Engelric and Ralph the Staller appear not to be actively plotting against you at the moment. However, Earl Ralph is looking to further his control of East Anglia. Men in Norfolk, Suffolk and Essex who have held freely in the past are being pressed to hold under him and are being offered his ‘protection’ in return. A few who have declined have had problems with ‘robbers’ raiding their villages. I’m aware that he dislikes the influence you have in Tendring and I think that you can expect some action on his part at some stage in the not too distant future. I’ll keep a close eye on him and his actions on your behalf.
“The main news relates not so much to your immediate interests, as it is high politics. You know, of course, that King William has taken steps to reduce the earl of Mercia’s influence and to increase his own control of that region, and that Edwin and Morcar are unhappy about that. Also that the Aetheling and a number of nobles fled to Scotland last month, and that it’s not a long distance from Scotland to Northumbria. The three Northern earls, Edwin, Morcar and Gospatric, met with some of the Aetheling’s agents- and also those of Bleddyn of Wales and the Danish King Swein Estrithson. The word I hear is that they are talking about inviting the Danes to invade.”
“In which case we shouldn’t have too much to worry about,” said Alan as an aside to Anne. “Swein hasn’t won a battle yet! He kept losing to Harold Hardrada and his Norwegians. His claim to the throne is that his uncle was Cnut, who seized the English crown by invasion.”
“You’ve said a number of times that the English should accept the Norman conquest because they wouldn’t be able to win in a battle against the Normans,” said Anne thoughtfully.
“That’s true. I’ve said it oft enough that I don’t need to go through the reasons again, but the main fact is that none of the available English leaders can beat William.”
Anne replied, “I wouldn’t be as dismissive about their chances as you are. What if either Edgar the Aetheling or Earl Waltheof grew a spine? Yes, they’re both young, but William was even younger when he started his fight to assert control of Normandy.” Before Alan could interject Anne waved him to keep silent with a small movement of her hand. “I know that you’ll reply that Edgar still couldn’t beat William. But what if William wasn’t there? What if he dies? His sons Robert, Richard and William are all around ten to twelve years of age.
“Which son would rule which lands? Who would act as regent? Matilda? FitzOsbern and Odo? Look what a bad job those two have done running England for only six months while William has been away! Robert of Eu and Robert of Mortain would be too old. The French and the Angevins would be lining up to attack Normandy, and the Danes and Norwegians to attack England. I’d suggest that the Norman control of England could be wrested away with one hunting ‘accident’ or one cup of poisoned wine, because without William the Norman barons would all go back to squabbling and fighting amongst themselves! King William is the mortar that binds the Normans together. Remove the mortar and the building collapses.”
Alan frowned in deep thought before nodding. “You’re right. Both myself and the other Normans have always thought as if he’ll always be there. Even apart from assassination, there’s always the vagaries of life; a storm at sea or a fall from a horse. I’ll have to stop being so arrogant and presumptuous.”
“Those are traits that you share with many others, my dear. And not all of them are Normans,” said Anne patting his arm.
The next day was Pentecost, the 11th May and by co-incidence a Sunday. It was also the day of Matilda’s coronation. At Westminster Morning Mass was said by Archbishop Stigand at Terce. The prelate entered dressed in his richly coloured and decorated vestments and moved towards the altar at the head of the procession of senior clerics, behind an acolyte swinging a golden censor creating a cloud of incense. A second acolyte carried a heavily illuminated bible on a red cushion and a third carried a large cross of gold.
Ealdred, the Archbishop of York, and a plethora of other bishops in their mitered hats followed in a long line behind the cross and moved to a line of chairs placed at one side of the Sanctuary. The Nave of the huge stone church was filled to capacity with nobles and their retainers, and the rear of the Nave was a packed mass of ordinary citizens. The common folk didn’t usually attend High Mass at the abbey, but they had been encouraged to come and see their new queen.
Apart from the king and his queen to be, the congregation was standing as no chairs or pews were provided. The choir was in elaborately-carved wooden stands on each side of the Nave located just before the Sanctuary and just beyond the two Transepts. In the Sanctuary the altar rail glistened with gilding and the large altar, covered in a white cloth embroidered with gold, was ablaze with light from many candles in golden candlesticks. Beautifully carved and exquisitely painted statues of Jesus, the saints, Mary and the Infant Jesus were in their places in the fore-part of the Nave, the Transepts, Choir, Ambulatories and the Sanctuary. Over the altar towered a massive figurine of Christ Crucified, made of wood and gesso.
Despite the light streaming through the stained glass windows, illuminating the religious scenes depicted on the windows, the interior of the abbey remained dimly lit. Alan mused that there must be hardly a see or abbey in England whose bishop or abbot had stayed at home, and there were also substantial numbers of Norman clergy in attendance. The English included both archbishops, and most of the seventeen bishops- Durham, Winchester, London, Wells, Cambridge and many more, including all four of the monastic sees of Christ Church Canterbury, Old Minster Winchester, Worcester and Sherborne. The Normans included Geoffrey of Coutances and the bishops of Caen, Rouen, Ely and Pointiers. Also present, of course, was Odo of Bayeux, the king’s half-brother. There were too many abbots and abbesses, priors and prioresses to conveniently count.
The Benedictine monks in the choir chanted alternately through the antiphon while the congregation was sprinkled with lustral water. Then followed the Acts of Penitence, the Kyrie (sung in Greek), Gloria, the Liturgy, and so through the familiar steps of the service. The whole service was spoken or sung in Latin or Greek, who caused no difficulty for the Normans, due to their familiarity with the service even if they didn’t understand the words, or the more educated of the English. A regiment of priests attended to distribution of the host at seven altars, three altars in each transept and at the high altar. The high altar was used by the clergy and the assembled nobles, and the side-altars by the hoi polloi.
Alan could not help but mentally compare this theatrical performance with the simple ceremonies that would be taking place, conducted in English, at this moment in the manor churches at Thorrington and Staunton.
Finally, after the Dismissal, the candles on the altars were extinguished and the archbishop and his deans and acolytes departed in procession. The remainder of the clergy and the congregation stayed in their places awaiting Stigand’s return and the coronation. Two ornate chairs were placed before the high altar, slightly to one side.
After several minutes Stigand returned, dressed in different and more ornate vestments. He was joined by Archbishop Ealdred of York, Wulfstan the bishop of Worcester, William the bishop of London and Odo the bishop of Bayeux. King William and Matilda rose in dignity from their seats at the front of the Nave and proceeded, after making obeisance before the altar, to be seated facing the crowd. Matilda’s tiny body, barely four feet two inches tall, was dwarfed by that of her husband, who was a man of above average height and solid build. During this time the Benedictine monks had been singing various religious musical pieces in plainchant.
As silence fell Archbishop Ealdred approached the Lectern and gave a speech lasting for some fifteen minutes extolling the importance of the position of queen, the vice-regality of the position, Matilda’s own virtues of integrity, honour, decency and dignity- together with the fact that she had already given the king several heirs. Archbishop Stigand led the congregation in a series of prayers for her continued health and the assistance and support she would bring to her husband the king. As she was not to be crowned monarch, the ceremony did not proceed as a coronation as such, but rather as a crowning. Matilda and William rose and then knelt side by side at the high altar. Matilda was anointed with chrism and blessed by Stigand, who then raised a small golden crown high in the air before placing in on Matilda’s head. After several more prayers William and Matilda rose to face the crowd and the shouts of ‘Vivre la Reine! Vivre le Roi!’ rent the air, repeated many times.
With Matilda’s hand on William’s arm they proceeded at a sedate pace out of the side entrance in the North Transept, closest to the palace located just to the east of the abbey. After they had departed the assembled clergy rose and exited via another side door to the west and into the Cloisters, before the congregation began to disperse. Most departed out of the main doors to the south, but the members of the Curia and other notables had been invited to a feast to be held in the Hall of Westminster, part of the palace, and they also departed via the northern exit.
It was a walk of just a few paces in the sun before they entered the expanse of the Great Hall. The massive open space with its high vaulted ceiling was already thronged with the rich and important of the kingdom. Anne was fatigued after standing for so long whilst pregnant and her back hurt, so Alan found her a chair against the wall with a small group of other ladies and went in search of Regenbald the Chancellor. He found him in conversation with Roger de Montgomerie and Robert of Eu, together with some lesser nobles, and eventually managed to whisper in his ear that he needed a word in private. After several minutes Regenbald took his leave from the others and directed Alan into a small room near the Exchequer.
“And what can I do for you, young man?” asked the Chancellor.
“The king may well be aware of this already, but I have heard word that there’s been a meeting between Earl Edwin of Mercia, Earl Morcar of Northumbria, Earl Gospatric and agents of Edgar the Aetheling, King Swein of Denmark and King Bleddyn of Wales,” advised Alan.
“The king indeed has a good information network, which reports through me, and is aware of this,” replied Regenbald. “Indeed, these men have also been on contact with others including King Diarmid of Ireland, King Malcolm of Scotland and the illegitimate sons of Harold who fled to Ireland. However, I do thank you for your information and your concern,” he said, clapping Alan on the shoulder. “It’s nice to have some loyal men in the kingdom! The king is, of course a past master at politics and knows how to deal with disloyalty and outside invasion threats, based on his time as duke. Extra information, or confirmation of what we have heard elsewhere, is always welcome, so please pass on whatever information you receive.”
Alan inclined his head in acknowledgement of Regenbald’s compliment. “What’s he going to do about it?” he asked.
“Give them enough rope to hang themselves,” Regenbald answered with a wry smile. “The real problem would come if Philip of France invades Normandy, or Fulk invades Maine, while William is busy here in England. Fighting a war on two fronts would be difficult.”
“I don’t understand why men who have retained their wealth, power and prestige would risk it all. Cospatric will have just paid a fortune to buy his earldom, which he risks throwing away. It’s not as if anybody except either Edgar the Aeltheling or Swein of Denmark would be crowned king. Edwin, Morcar and Cospatric would still remain earls.”
“But they would have more influence and be given more lands, here in the south. After all Godwin was ‘just’ an earl, but he ran the kingdom because King Edward was so weak. I think that these crows expect to be able to exert similar influence over Edgar. The men of the north hate King William and the Normans, but it’s not personal. They would hate any English king from the south also, except possible the Aetheling. Harold they accepted because he went north with a small force and negotiated with them- but they still revolted against him, even his own brother Tostig. That’s been the curse of the English for so long, the inability of its noble families to see beyond their own interests and to loyally support the monarch. There are many more who have accepted the situation and come to an accommodation. These are mainly men of lesser station, but also apparently Earl Waltheof, and your friends Thorkel of Arden and Eadnoth the Staller who both have enough lands to qualify as barons even though they do not formally hold that station. Now if you’ll excuse me, the king and his new queen will shortly be making their entrance into the Hall and I’m expected to be there to act as Master of Ceremonies.”
A thoughtful Alan returned back to the Hall, where he saw Anne sitting with a number of her new-found friends and sipping a cup of fresh apple juice. By now the Hall held probably 500 people, mainly standing and chatting while they awaited the arrival of the royal couple. A group of musicians, flautists, players of the lute, dulcimer, tambour, drums, cithara, pan pipes and the long straight trumpet began to play near the middle of the Hall. A choir also began to set up, awaiting their turn to perform.
With no prior announcement the king and queen walked in through a side door that came from their private chambers in the palace, accompanied by several flunkeys. They were still wearing the rich robes used for the Coronation and wore their crowns. Conversation ceased as all quietly bowed or curtsied to the royal couple, who walked arm in arm to the high-table which had been placed on a raised dais. William waved to the musicians to continue and slowly conversation resumed around the Hall. The great Norman lords and their ladies, Roger de Montomerie, Geoffrey de Mandeville, Hugh Grandmesnil, Robert of Eu, Hugh de Montford, William Warrene, William Malet, and of course his half-brothers Odo of Bayeux and Robert of Mortain and his cousin William fitzOsbern, attended on the royal couple. The men and their wives were tied by close bonds of kinship and marriage and it was like a family reunion. The young English earls Morcar, Edwin and Waltheof eventually were brought forward to make their obeisance to both the king and the newly-crowned queen. Here gathered on one dais were the men who held nigh on three quarters of the land in England that was not in Church hands.
Anne espied Queen Edith, the widow of King Edward, talking near the dais with Countess Judith, the king’s niece, Hawise Sourdeval the wife of Stephen Count of Brittany and Alice de Tosny the wife of Roger Bigod and a good friend of Anne. Presuming on her acquaintance with them Anne took Alan by the arm and led him to the group. Alan was introduced to those he did not know, and kissed them all on the hand with impeccable manners. The ladies were much taken by the young, tall, handsome man with flowing red hair and fine but understated clothing of black silk tunic and hose embroidered in silver thread and wearing sensible black half-boots, instead of the foppish and garish clothing and footwear adopted by some of the younger courtiers. At twenty years of age Alan and his wife- two years younger, auburn haired, shorter than her husband by a head, her slim figure temporarily spoiled by being five months pregnant, and dressed in a specially made dress of Hunter Green velvet that artfully sought to disguise her condition- made a striking couple.
Just then William and Matilda left the dais and started to circulate, immediately gravitating to the Englishwoman whose support after Hastings had been instrumental in having William accepted and crowned as king. William, while a hard man, recognised his obligations and he genuinely liked the 39 year old daughter of Earl Godwin who had been King Harold’s sister. Edith dipped into a curtsy, as the others in the group either curtsied or bowed according to gender. William reached out and took Edith by the hand before she had hardly started her obeisance, raised her up and introduced her to his wife.
Matilda still retained her beauty, despite her 37 years. At 4’ 2” she was as tiny as a doll, dwarfed by her husband, who at 5’ 11’’ was taller than average and solidly built. Her elfin face showed intelligence, grace and determination. She was polite and well-spoken. She was also three months pregnant with her tenth child by William- not her least contribution to the monarchy. This would be her fifth child in six years and Alan wasn’t sure how she and William had managed to have enough time together to achieve this over the last few hectic years.
Queen Edith introduced the others in the group who were not known to Queen Matilda. Matilda smiled at Anne and patted her arm in a sisterly fashion and took a step back to peer up at Alan. “You, Sir, I have heard of from my husband. He describes you as his most…interesting…vassal, and something of an enigma. I thank you for saving the life of my husband, but this seems to be but one of a number of interesting feats- not least marrying against the ban imposed on such matters!”
Alan smiled easily. “Given the example of yourself and my liege, I was sure that this would cause no problem. Like yourself and the king in your time it was something we wished to do, and at least we didn’t have to face papal disfavour!” William gave a bark of laughter and Matilda grinned. “And I paid a penance of six longboats,” concluded Alan.
Matilda nodded, still smiling. “Cheaper than our having to endow two abbeys! But yours was a generous gift to the king, and an example of one of those things I was referring to before. Overcoming an invasion by the Danes all by yourself!”
Alan laughed. “My queen, I didn’t have the resources to man the ships, and they do no good sitting rotting on the beach. It is better to have the king think he owes me a favour! We all need those favours at some time, and it did distract him from the question of our marriage!” Here he put his hand on Anne’s arm and continued in a somber tone. “As to the Danes, I wasn’t standing in front of them all by myself. The sheriff of Essex was sitting safe behind the walls of Colchester while Lexden and Winstree Hundreds were devastated. Villages were burnt; women were raped. Men, women and children killed. Thegns were impaled and tortured to death. None of the ‘civilised’ rules of warfare apply in such cases. Every man in the south of the Hundred came, and most of those from the north and east, even the slaves came with what they had- except the men from fitzWymarc’s villages. They wielded sword, bow, spear, hay-forks and sharpened sticks. They fought for their very lives and those of their families, and they fought well. We planned, set an ambush and defeated a larger force of professional warriors- at considerable cost. We took the longships and rescued hundreds of English captives being carried into slavery,” he concluded.
“That’s the dichotomy I was talking about,” replied Matilda. “Just about every man I know would be crowing about his victory. You are concerned more about those lost. And fitzOsbern tells me you had a recent successful action in Wales, which has his admiration as all he manages to do is lose men in ambushes. How did you manage that?”
“Well, I must say that I am rather more proud of that raid than of the defensive battle at Wivenhoe,” said Alan modestly. “I run a really good ambush myself. As for the success in Wales? I obtained good information about their land and where their men were. I made sure they didn’t know where we were or what men we had available- we arrived secretly and struck immediately. My men are well trained. We cut up a large Welsh raiding force a couple of nights before, which substantially reduced the men they had to oppose us. We went over the border like an Act of God- fast and hard, with a clear plan and clear objectives. I had a firm talk to Idwallon, the Cantref lord, and he understands the need to leave my lands alone.”
“Didn’t your intercepting the Welsh raiding party alert them to the presence of your men?” asked Edith.
“None returned to tell, my lady,” replied Alan dryly. “That was part of Idwallon’s lesson. One of his sons fell in the raiding party.”
“And William tells me that you think we need a navy?” asked Matilda.
Alan nodded. “The Irish raid our west coast. The Norwegians raid Northumbria and the Danes raid East Anglia. All do so several times each sailing season. They come over when they get bored at home and going raiding is the national pastime for all of them. Fifty longships, spread between Chester and Bristol in the west and York, Ipswich and Colchester in the east, can stop those raids by making it too costly for them. Fifty ships would also allow us to harry any invasion fleet if the Danes come. Otherwise we just sit on the land and try to guess where they are going to land next, always arriving too late.”
“That would be too damned expensive,” said William. “50 ships at 30 or 40 men each is 2,000 men.”
“And the cost of the ships. Merchant ships are useless and we need longships, and the cost of swords and cross-bows,” agreed Alan. “Still, you’re receiving a lot in port taxes and the geld this year will bring in what…?50,000? More? The merchants can be levied to contribute to the cost.”
William scowled at being told how to spend his money and looked away. “Come, my dear. The servants are bringing out the food and setting up the tables and we’ve some others to talk to.”
Matilda smiled at Alan and Anne. “I look forward to having further discussions. And I’ve heard how wonderful your music soirees are, my dear,” patting Anne’s arm. She chatted with the other English ladies in Anglo-Saxon for several minutes, being of English descent she could speak the language fluently although with a Flemish accent, before allowing herself to be led away.
“How much would it cost?” asked Queen Edith with interest, also in Anglo-Saxon English.
“Probably?10,000 to buy the ships and weapons. That’s a once off expense that could probably be halved by having the ports contribute a certain number of ships each, together with those lords who have their demesne close to the sea. Many of the Norman lords donated substantial numbers of transport ships a couple of years ago. The ongoing cost would be less- 2,000 men at a shilling a week, say just over?5,000 a year.”
Edith reached out and patted Alan’s arm. “It’ll never happen, my dear man. The idea is good and the cost is modest- but William is a soldier not a sailor and he’s not used to living on an island. He has a continental frame of mind and doesn’t think in terms of protecting coastline or shipping. He’ll increase the town garrisons, even though that won’t work and will be just as expensive. It’s a good idea, though not likely to be adopted. Now shall we go and sit at table?”
The meal was a typical Norman feast, with fairly simple food and lots of it- heavy on boiled and roast meats and vegetables, beef, pork and chicken. Here at the table of one of the ‘high and mighty’ they had additional delicacies such as peafowl, duck, swan and venison, roasted or braised in broth. The food was relatively simply prepared and presented with a range of spiced or herbed sauces and gravies. At this table at least there were fine French wines from the Loire and Bordeaux, red and white, and the ever popular honeymede and ale. The men and women at Edith’s table were mainly English middle-level thegns, sheriffs, household officials and their wives, all known for their loyalty to King William. Apart from Alan there were also several other Normans including Roger Bigod and his wife Alice, William Peverel and his newly married wife Adelina of Lancaster, Bernard de Neufmarche and Aubrey de Vere.
“My lady, last time we spoke you mentioned you were considering leaving public life,” said Alice.
“That’s true,” replied Edith. “I’ve had enough of public life. I married Edward in ’45 and, apart from the year he forced me into a nunnery when he exiled my father, I had to deal with the tribulations of a husband who was a weak king and interested in little other than religion. Twenty years of a loveless marriage to a celibate man who hated me because of my father and what he did to Edward’s brother. I was willing enough, for the sake of the kingdom, but he would have none of it. A man with little interest in the kingdom he ruled, or its people. I did what I could to ensure proper rule. On Edward’s death my brother Harold was crowned, and within nine months he and three of my other brothers were dead. Last month my mother Gytha Thorkelsdottir, Godwin’s widow, encouraged the people to revolt, including my own town of Exeter.
“I’ve had enough and done enough! Godgifu is a friend of mine and is abbess at Wilton. I’ll take the veil and retire into a quiet and contemplative life in comfortable surroundings. I’ll bestow some of my lands on favoured servants, such as Azur here, and some on the abbey, while retaining a few to provide life’s comforts until I bequest them in my will- after all, I have no children. England needs only one queen, and that’s now Matilda,” she concluded.
“Perhaps if you left that decision for a little while, my lady,” suggested Alan. “Your intercession in the conflict at Exeter last month was important both for its people and the kingdom. Both the king and the people respect you. Difficult times lie ahead.”
At that Edith’s head jerked around and she looked Alan in the eyes. She nodded at the truth of what he said as she had her own sources of information as well. With a reluctant sigh she said, “You’re right. Perhaps a few more months, in addition to the past 22 years, should be easy enough compared to what I’ve endured in the past. Now, enough of these matters! Let’s listen to the music and talk of inconsequential things!” she commanded.