LONDON AUGUST 1067
On the journey to London Alan was accompanied by Anne, two maids, Leof, Osmund, ten Wolves and ten huscarles. All the men were mounted and the women travelled in a light cart, and they made a leisurely journey with a halt for the night at Chelmsford. The second day was spent on the road through the Great Forest before they entered London through Aldgate at the east side of the city, travelled through much of the city and noted that the preliminary construction of fortified positions of The Tower, Baynard Castle and Montfichet Tower had been completed, with further work to strengthen their defences underway.
As a man who had spent most of his life in small country villages, with only a few brief years at Rouen and then Paris, and with his time in the former largely spent in the isolation of the Benedictine monastery, Alan was both uncomfortable and excited by being in London. Uncomfortable because he hated the crowding, the streets teeming with people bustling to and fro and the filth from discarded refuse and offensive industries such as tanning and dying. Excited because something was always happening and every stroll through the streets was a new adventure- if you survived it, particularly after dark.
The city proper, the area within the walls, was less than two-thirds of a mile wide along the river by a third of a mile deep from the river to the swamp and farms outside the walls to the north. Large areas of habitation outside the walls straggled along the roads from Westminster to the west and Mile End and Oldford to the east.
Southwark, on the south side of the river, was in Surrey and outside the jurisdiction of the officials in London, with the inevitable result that the buildings were largely ramshackle and there were large numbers of officially permitted brothels called ‘stews’.
The city itself, although crowded, was not in all parts excessively crammed and there were some open areas, particularly close to the Chepe market. There were other areas where land was vacant not by design but by accident as a result of fire. Almost all the buildings in and near the city were of wooden construction and most were thatched. With so many buildings so close together a spilled oil lamp or an unattended fire, whether it be a cooking fire, bread oven or forge, could get out of hand in moments and wreak havoc.
Most of the houses, in some places crammed closely together, were of two, three and sometimes four storeys in height. Many were filthy tenements into which the poor were packed one family to a room with sometimes ten people with barely space to spread a shared straw palliasse on the floor.
On his previous visit Alan had found the people themselves were also different. They were less deferential and more confident and assertive, almost cocky, even in their dealings with customers. Alan, who didn’t see himself as having an over-inflated self-opinion, frankly found it annoying to have a filthy young lad dressed in rags approach him in the streets to try to sell pies or other items and address him in a cheeky manner, almost as an equal. The ‘ladies of the night’ were equally bold in their marketing efforts, even during the day- and even when Alan was accompanied by Anne.
The streets were thronged with people hurrying to and fro. Costermongers selling from their carts. Stall-holders whose stalls blocked the narrow walkways on each side of the streets, causing pedestrians to have to walk on the roadway. In many places stalls were placed opposite each other, creating bottle-necks through which the pedestrians and traffic struggled. Shop owners, many with open-fronted shops and with trestle tables set up to display their wares, were seeking custom but keeping a close eye to ensure that prospective customers or passers-by didn’t purloin their goods. Baker-boys carried trays of pies, breads and sweetmeats on trays supported by a leather strap around their neck. There were touts for all sorts of businesses from taverns to tailors, barbers to ribbon-merchants, with a cacophony of voices as they all called attention to themselves and their goods or services.
Not only the ears and eyes were assaulted, so also was the nose. Sometimes the smells were pleasant, such as when passing a bakery, stalls selling cooked meats or in the Vintry. Most often the smells were offensive, such as on passing the premises of tanners, dyers or fullers, where vats of urine and chemicals gave off rank odours and passers-by paused to make a contribution of urine into pots placed by the footpath; the Fish Market and the Shambles with their stench of spoiled meat, blood and entrails and with rats, cats, curs and crows picking at the noisome heaps; rotten vegetables at the Vegetable Market in Chepe; and the ever-present excrement of people and animals that littered the streets, pot-fulls of night-soil being hurled from upper windows and often striking and miring those walking below.
They finally took rooms at the ‘Fox and Goose’ Inn in Watling Street, just near St Peter’s Church and close to St Paul’s Cathedral in the west of the city. The inn appeared well kept from the outside and Anne was satisfied as to its suitability after a brief inspection. The cathedral bells were ringing Vespers in the evening when Alan had finished his negotiations with the innkeeper to take eight rooms for 28 people, including meals, for a penny per person per a night. He then gave Leof a note to deliver to the St Paul’s Cathedral Minster office, with strict instructions to wait for a reply- and that when he returned he was to take a circuitous route through crowds and alleys to ensure he wasn’t followed. Alan gave him a penny, the first money Leof had ever owned.
Alan’s note was addressed to Bishop William of London, announced his arrival and indicated his availability for the following day, Friday. It was the first time that he had used his new seal-ring given to him by Anne.
As there were still two hours to sunset, Alan and Osmund, accompanied by four huscarles, rode the short distance along the Strand to the Westminster Palace to see if King’s Chancellor Regenbald was in residence. By good fortune he was, and when Alan and Osmund walked into his office the aged prelate rose to clasp forearms before inviting his guests to sit.
Alan had met Regenbald both at the royal coronation and in his subsequent discussions with the king and had a true liking for the old man, together with an appreciation for his perceptiveness, intelligence and quick wit. The cleric had been in charge of Edward’s writing office until appointed by William as Chancellor immediately following the latter’s coronation.
On handing over the bag of rolls of depositions Alan explained the problems being experienced with the Heriot charges in East Anglia in particular and his understanding that the problem was more wide-spread. Osmund gave a quick precis of each of the depositions that they had received from both Suffolk and Essex, and which ones had been referred to the sheriffs for investigation, referring to a summary list that he had drawn up.
Sitting with one leg up on a foot-stool Regenbald apologised for the bout of gout he was presently suffering, which was why he was staying in his chambers in the palace instead of riding home each night. “That and some current domestic discord,” he said pulling a wry face, a reference to the fact that like many English priests Regenbald was married. “Now, this lot is not going to make you any friends here at court at all, and won’t help your future prospects. Even the king is likely to be unhappy that you have raked up this muck. Odo and fitzOsbern are likely to be livid, as it reflects badly on their administration in the absence of the king. Firstly, are you sure you should be presenting them to me and not to the Lords Regent?”
“I’m quite happy handling things this way. Odo of Bayeux is the last person I would want to look at these pleadings. You are the King’s Secretary, the man who handles his correspondence. I want the king to have a look at this correspondence and not just have it quietly buried and forgotten. I expect that by the time the king returns most, if not all, of these complaints will have been favourably resolved by Earl Ralph, Bishop William and Engelric and the blame placed on over-zealous or corrupt servants and minor officials. You and I both know that in fact theft, corruption and extortion are currently running rampant in the kingdom, with the co-Lord Regent Odo of Bayeux being amongst the worst offenders- which in part is why he’s having so much dissent and protest in his own earldom of Kent. The English don’t like people abusing their office at the people’s expense. Some minor corruption is expected, but not blatant robbery and extortion.”
“And what do you hope to obtain?” asked Regenbald thoughtfully, looking over steepled fingers.
“Justice for these specific individuals whose legal rights have been abused. Hopefully a more temperate use of powers and less abuse of powers by the appointed officials. King William took an oath at his coronation that the laws of Edward would be upheld. At the moment it is as if a pack of wolves, Norman and English, are ravaging the country, the middle-thegns, poorer thegns and freemen, for their own benefit. If King William orders taxes are to be levied that is one thing. Private theft and extortion are another matter. The sheriffs need to be put on notice that they are expected to act and not either ignore or participate in financially ruining thousands of Englishmen,” replied Alan.
“Admirable sentiments, if perhaps overly virtuous,” rejoined Regenbald. “I actually meant what do you hope to obtain for yourself?”
Alan looked at him in blank incomprehension for a moment before replying, “Oh, I’m sorry! Of course you’re used to dealing with courtiers who only look to further their own benefit. The short answer is ‘nothing’. King William is likely to be annoyed at me for wasting his time and pointing out his poor choice of appointed officials. He may relish the opportunity to let those officials know that they are under scrutiny and perhaps punish one or two.
“Earl Ralph, the earl of East Anglia where I hold my own lands, will no doubt do whatever he can to make my life and that of my friends as difficult as possible. I don’t expect much trouble from Bishop William or Engelric as I can cause them more trouble than they can cause me. I hold my lands as tenant-in-chief from the king himself. I’m subservient to only one man under God, and I view this as a matter that God has given me to do as I must. William fitzOsbern will be angry with me because he brooks little intervention in what he does and he takes his appointment as co-regent seriously. He’s somewhat puffed up about his own importance and will reject any criticism. Odo will object to any interference in his own program of theft and illegal acquisition.”
Regenbald stroked his chin. “So a man who is honest, ferht and God-fearing, on a quest to protect the unwitting, with no thought of self-benefit- and indeed accepting that his own interests will be harmed.” Alan was not sure if the tone was astonished or ironic.
“I have no political ambitions and am happy with what I hold, which only the king can take from me. I’m sure that King William will not do that, if for no reason other than to use me as a weapon against those he wishes to keep in check,” confirmed Alan.
“You have obviously given this much thought and prayer and I salute your courage. As King’s Chancellor I have no higher office to look forward to and I will support your position. As an Englishman I object to the abuses that are taking place against my fellow-countrymen and I’m glad to see someone from what might be viewed as ‘the other side’ supporting the common folk. You have my regard, my best wishes and whatever assistance I can provide you- as I am Chancellor of England that may be of some assistance in ‘keeping those wolves off your back’. Now, it’s after dark and as the gates of the city will be closed for your return to your inn, I’ll provide you with an escort to ensure that the gates are opened for you. I look forward with expectation to your future involvement in politics in England.”
When Alan and Osmund arrived back at the ‘Fox and Goose’ they found a reply waiting from William, Bishop of London, brought by Leof. The reply, in a clerk’s hand, indicated he should attend at Bishop’s Palace near the cathedral at eleven the next morning. Leof was adamant that when he had returned as darkness was falling there was no way he could have been followed as he had dashed down Watling Street, past the shops in Gutter Lane, down Bread Street and back up Wood Street before sneaking in the back entrance of the inn.
Alan and Anne rose reasonably early at six in the morning the next day, although still two hours after sunrise and the opening of the city gates. It was about a twenty minute very careful walk with Osmund and four huscarles, not now in armour but still carrying swords and a haughty expression that cleared the street for the others following, through the crowded pavements and streets of Chepe Street to Bishopsgate Street.
There they met with the Jews, firstly with Gideon and then with Malachi, completing their financial arrangements quite quickly. Alan asked if they knew of any large houses for sale either within the city walls or along The Strand leading to Westminster. Malachi was of great assistance, saying that it was a suitable time to buy property and that he knew a number of Englishmen under financial pressure as a result of the Heriot who may be prepared to part with their town-houses at modest process, and he would send a list of possible properties the next day.
Back at the ‘Fox and Goose’ Anne was delighted to find an invitation from Edward’s widow Queen Edith, who had been confirmed in her lands and dower by William after his victory, to attend at a soiree that evening.
Alan, Osmund and Leof walked to the lavish apartments of Bishop William of London, part of the complex of St Paul’s Cathedral near Ludgate, arriving a little before the appointed meeting time. They were shown into a small antechamber and kept waiting… and waiting…and waiting. Alan heard the cathedral bells ringing Sext at noon before they were finally invited into Bishop William’s luxurious office. Another man, of average size, middle age and apparently of saturnine temperament sat in the corner of the room.
“Nice of you to see us! I was under the impression that you saw our meeting as of some urgency, but apparently not,” said Alan with his apparently detached voice hiding his annoyance. Osmund and Leof were used to waiting all day for their master’s pleasure, and until recently so had Alan. Now, with his improved station, he expected better manners from anybody except the king.
Neither of the men in the room, both dressed in clerical garb, rose to greet him, or introduce themselves. Without invitation Alan sat at a chair opposite the more richly dressed man and waved Osmund and Leof to a bench set against the wall, the only other seating in the room. “I presume that you are William, Bishop of London?” asked Alan in Norman French to the stoutly built man opposite him. “And who are you?” he asked the man dressed in a simple black cassock.
“Engelric,” was the brief reply.
“Well, it’s good to meet two of the defalcators of the king’s money at the same time. It saves time in the long run. You sent a message saying you wanted to see me, Bishop, I presume it is to discuss your theft? I regret that we have caused both of you to miss the Sext service at noon, but if you had been on time perhaps we could have completed our business in time for us all to attend the service,” said Alan in a calm but deliberately offensive manner, choosing not to use the usual honorifics for the Bishop of London.
Bishop William was clearly disconcerted by this direct approach and replied, “I had thought that it may be of benefit to discuss your allegations, perhaps without your servants…?”
“I have nothing to hide,” replied Alan brusquely. “They stay, or I go! You are quite welcome to have witnesses of your own.” Engelric waved a hand in negation.
“We seem to have started off on the wrong foot, which is unfortunate,” said Engelric in his high-pitched voice. “Would you care for a cup of wine?” After he had poured cups for Alan, the bishop and himself from a jug on a table in the corner of the room and handed them around, Engelric continued suavely, “I understand that you have been making allegations against myself, the good bishop here and Earl Ralph regarding our conduct of our duties in East Anglia, and we would like to overcome any misunderstanding.”
“I have made no allegations,” corrected Alan quietly. “What has happened is that over forty thegns and freemen of Essex and Suffolk have made written complaints addressed to the king and the Curia Regis, which I have agreed to pass along. Those involving allegations of obvious criminal activity, including those against yourself, the bishop and Earl Ralph, I have referred to the sheriffs for their investigation. Some involved threats and extortion that could not be delayed until the king returned. All of them I have also placed in the hands of the King’s Chancellor, who may investigate them in the king’s absence or await his return as he thinks fit. In conjunction with the King’s Regents, the Chancellor is of course the highest official in the land whilst the king is away from the kingdom.”
Alan noted the wince and pained expression on Bishop William’s face when he mentioned the handing of the documents to the Chancellor. Engelric kept a calm face and demeanour. “So what are these allegations against us?”
Alan said to Osmund, also in Norman French to show that the clerk understood what had been said, “Osmund, can you please give a precis of the allegations I have handed to the Chancellor?”
Osmund unrolled a scroll and then spent nearly fifty minutes outlining the cases. Alan then said, “These are the few cases that we have received in a short period of time and have been asked to present to the king,” said Alan. “I’m sure that an examination of your own records, which no doubt the king and Curia will require, will reveal many more cases of abuse, extortion and overcharging, including my own for Wivenhoe. I suggest that you gentlemen, and Earl Ralph- and any other Relief Officers- may wish to review your records to correct any errors that your retainers may have made, but which of course reflect on you. How you will deal with the matters that involve you directly is another matter and for you to decide.”
“What do you want?” asked Bishop William abruptly. Engelric winced and looked away in embarrassment. “How much?” repeated Bishop William.
It took Alan several seconds for him to realise he was being offered a bribe in such a blatant manner. Before he could assemble his thoughts and reply, Engelric smoothly intervened. “What His Grace the Lord Bishop means is that you have of course incurred expense in pursuing the investigation of these false cases that have been brought against us- although if your clerk can provide us with details we will of course examine each instance to ensure that fairness and proper procedures have been followed. I’m sure that, like all of us, you would like some friends in influential places to assist you from time to time with the things you want to achieve. We’ve heard that you are in some financial difficulty yourself and have had to deal with the Jews and we thought that perhaps?100 would be adequate recompense for the time that you have spent on this issue.”
Alan waited a considerable period before he replied, causing Osmund to cast a raised eye in his direction. The delay was to collect his thoughts and regain control of his temper, before he replied, “I thank yourself and Bishop William for your concerns regarding my financial position. Perhaps that may be eased when Bishop William has a chance to examine the Relief amount levied on Wivenhoe, not as a favour to me but to remove the anomaly of the Relief charge being four times the value of the property. That’s just one of many instances of excessive Reliefs being set.
“The remainder of my land is of course not subject to Relief. My clerk will give your clerk a written precis of the inconsistencies and complaints that have come to my attention. I’m certain that on examination you will agree that many, if not all, of these complaints are justified, and equally certain that gentlemen such as yourselves will agree that the use of threats and extortion against poor thegns and freemen is not to be tolerated. Hopefully, this will cause you to carefully examine your records of all your activities in East Anglia, so that any other mistakes or abuses by your officers can be unearthed. I’m sure that the few that I have received are only a small portion of those that need review.
“As for my financial position, I can only say that my honour is not for sale at any price, whether it be?100 or?1,000, or more. I think that we now have an understanding of each other, which you may wish to share with Earl Ralph as he seems to think I should ride to Norfolk to meet with him- which I have no intention of doing. Now I thank you for your time and regret that you missed the noon-day service because of our meeting. I’m sure that your brothers will be expecting you in the refectory shortly for the mid-day meal.” Engelric and Bishop William would of course dine much more luxuriously than the provender at the table of the abbey refectory, but Alan felt there was no need to be unnecessarily rude- he was only rude where necessary- and he stood to take his leave with a promise for Osmund to have a summary of the depositions delivered next morning.
After a circuitous walk and the engagement of some men of the rougher sort outside a tavern to delay the men the bishop had sent to follow them, they arrived back at the ‘Fox and Goose’. Osmund, who had carefully been taking in the conversation verbatim, went to his room with a jug of ale and plate of food to record the conversation that had occurred whilst it was still fresh in his mind. Alan gave a summary to Anne, who expressed her thrills and outrages at the various twists and turns of the conversation as they were related to her.
In honour of Queen Edith’s soiree Anne decided that Alan should attend at a professional barbershop for a proper shave and haircut, instructing him not to have his hair shaved at the back in the Norman fashion and over-riding Alan’s objection that this was done as a matter of practicality as the chain mail coif of the hauberk caught the hair that was not protected by the padded cap worn under the helmet. “You’re unlikely to do any fighting for some time and you aren’t such a baby that a few pulled hairs should make any difference to you,” she scoffed. “To have the back of your head shaved in the Norman fashion makes it obvious to all that you are a Frank. I think you’d look dashing with longer hair and a beard, in the Saxon style!”
Anne also wanted to wear the matching gold coloured clothing, but the freshly-shaved and barbered Alan felt it impolitic to appear too ostentatious on their first journey to the city, like country black-birds pretending to be peacocks. He felt they should stay in the background until they had developed good relations with the Norman barons, many of whom were in Normandy with King William. Even though Queen Edith was seen as a strong supporter of the new king and had assisted him in gaining the submission of the West Saxon lands immediately after Hastings, it may not be wise to have better relations with the English nobility than that of the Normans.
Logic won out and Anne wore a tight-fitting dress of mid-green velvet, low but not immodestly cut at the front, and a similar coloured and highly-embroidered shawl completed the obligatory covering of the hair- a fashion that Alan always found disappointing as it prevented Anne showing off her long and lustrous auburn hair. Alan wore a tunic of black linen embroidered with silver, a tooled black leather belt with silver buckle, plain black hose and boots, with his head uncovered, revealing his red hair flowed almost to his collar. As it was a social occasion he was unarmed other than the small knife at his belt that he would use for eating- indeed Anne with the larger seax knife that denoted her position as a freewoman was better armed than he was. Like all the guests they brought two armed retainers, who left their swords at the door and were shown into a separate Hall to await the pleasure of their betters.
Queen Edith’s townhouse on the Strand was very large. They arrived just after the appointed starting time of an hour before Compline and entered the house forecourt as the sun was setting behind Westminster Abbey. The house backed onto the Thames and being upstream of the city the water flowing past was clean and unpolluted. Ducks and swans swam close to the riverbank and children were splashing and playing at the water’s edge.
The Hall that the doorman showed them into was quite large without being overly so. It was thirty paces by forty, well lit with lamps attached to sconces and with fresh rushes on the floor. Several tables had been placed against one wall and chairs and benches lined the other walls. When they arrived there were about a dozen other guests present and Queen Edith was just entering through another door with an arm linked with Eadnoth, the Steward of her late husband, who was a tall and elderly man. The queen was of medium height, 38 years of age and still showed the beauty of her youth. She was soberly dressed in dark red, heavily embroidered with gold. Alan was glad that Anne had not worn her gold dress as it would not have done for a simple country girl to have outshone her noble host.
Alan noticed Chancellor Regenbald standing with a somewhat flashily-dressed dark-haired woman of about 40 on his arm, and a boldly-dressed man of about the same age with long blond hair and a flowing moustache. Presuming on his acquaintance with Regenbald, Alan walked across the Hall towards him with Anne at his side, hand on his arm, and he introduced her to Regenbald. The Chancellor in turned introduced the other woman as Aethelu, his current wife, and the man as Cynebeald, his son by his first marriage. He pointed out his daughter Swanhild, who was talking animatedly in an adjoining group and then took Alan and Anne to that group, made introductions and asked Swanhild to take care of them for the evening as they were new to the city and had few friends.
Swanhild, a tall blond and shapely woman of about thirty-five, took the duty in good cheer and she and Anne were soon chatting together like old friends as she introduced the couple around and made a point to introduce Anne to a number of young women of around Anne’s own age.
Alan noted something peculiar about the group. There were women of all ages from 16 to 60 and many men over 40. Other than two or three young clerics in their distinctive monk’s garb and tonsures, there were barely a handful of men of fighting age. As he chatted with them he found that most of these few had been wounded at Stamford Bridge, or had otherwise been fortunate enough to miss the battle of Hastings by being overseas or on the western border fighting the Welsh. There were probably two women for every man present.
The side-tables had been filled with plates of finger-food. Eggs stuffed with fish roe; smoked salmon on toast; pickled herring on rye-bread; mini-mushroom pastries; quiche; pork pies; chicken pasties; small sausage rolls; small meat pies; sage and parsley tarts; mushrooms stuffed with cheese; Lorenz pies with minced meat, pine nuts, currents and cottage cheese gilded with gold leaf. This was the first time that either Alan or Anne had eaten gold. Available sauces in separate jugs were melted spiced cheese sauce, carmeline sauce, garlic with walnuts and onions, jaunce, mustard and several types of chutney.
A separate table carried platters of small cakes, various sweet fruit tarts, custard tarts, fried almond pastries with honey and half a dozen different fried or baked pastries coated with sugar. There were platters of a dozen types of cheeses from soft Brie, Neufchatel, Roquefort, Gorgonzola and Emmenthal to the harder cheeses including Cheddar, Cheshire, Parmigiano and Romano.
The guests helped themselves, placing the morsels of food on small wooden plates and eating with their fingers as they chatted. Most of the ladies were drinking mead or fruit juices, either alcoholic or non- alcoholic, or sweet white wine. The men drank either pints of ale or cups of fine red wines from the Loire or Bordeaux. Harp and lute players were quietly playing music in the background.
Eventually Regenbald collected Alan and Anne and took them to the small group where Queen Edith was sitting with half a dozen others and introduced them.
“Anne, my dear, so nice to meet you!” said the Queen. “We so rarely see new faces these days. Such a beautiful and, if I hear correctly, literate young lady. And Sir Alan, I do believe you are the first Norman to attend one of my soirees. It’s so hard to find a Norman noble who is literate and not totally consumed by making war!”
“It’s a hard life to train to be a knight, Your Grace,” replied Alan. “Training as a warrior begins at eight years of age and leaves little time for learning social graces or book learning. I had a more diverse childhood and adolescence before I became a soldier, and I’m glad finally to have the time to read almost as much as I would like. I must say that I prefer the iambic meter of Greek poetry to the alliterative of English poetry. In some of the English poetry I have read, which is not a great deal, I have found the story hard to follow. The Dream of the Rood for example, where I found the second part, where the Cross tells its own story, was difficult to plod through. Andreas is a good, enjoyable story and well-told. I’ve only recently started to study English poetry of course.”
“You read English? That must be unique amongst your nobles,” said Edith with a tilt of her head.
“And he writes it, as well of course Latin and French, and also Attic Greek,” added Anne. “Alan has his own library and has been giving me books as presents.”
“I would love the opportunity to learn Arabic and read some of their great works, particularly on medical sciences, but that would take years and require me to travel to the distant lands of the Moors. Now with the responsibilities of wife and land that is no longer possible,” said Alan wistfully.
“And your marriage. Presumably arranged by your lord?” asked the Queen.
Alan took Anne’s small hand in his and replied, “No, it is a love match. I found an injured creature in my forest and took her home to cure. I fell in love immediately, but it took some time and effort for her to make her choice. She’s not the most biddable of women,” he concluded with a quick look at her out of the corner of his eye.
“Ah, yes, the Battle of Wivenhoe. My thegn at Wix, Adamnan, has told me about that, although he was not present of course. From what I hear 400 untrained fyrdmen under your leadership defeated 800 trained Danish warriors with minimal casualties to themselves, and you invoked God to rain fire from the skies to destroy your enemies. And then you let the thegns of the Hundred receive the head-money from the sale of the slaves, while at the same time rescuing hundreds of English captives from a life of slavery. The sort of thing that poems and sagas are written about!” said the Queen.
“It wasn’t quite like that, Your Grace. Numbers were nearly even. I had been training the fyrdmen from my own estates and they were quite useful by then. And we had the advantage of surprise and ambush.”
“And fire?” asked Eadnoth.
“And fire,” confirmed Anne. Neither she nor Alan elaborated. That was an advantage that they wanted to keep to themselves in case of future need.
“And now he has become the champion of the poor oppressed English thegn and freeman, opposing the tyranny of corrupt officials including the earl of East Anglia!” interjected Regenbald, who then went on to explain the reason for Alan’s current journey to London.
“That will hardly make you popular with the Normans,” commented the Queen.
“Well, technically all three are English,” replied Alan.
“Technically, my foot! Two are French and you’ve pointed out the abuse that Normans all over the south of England are engaging in. You intend to follow this through?” demanded the Queen.
“With a formal complaint to the Curia Regis when the king returns, if necessary,” replied Alan. “But I doubt that will be necessary. I expect the complaints will be resolved as ‘administrative errors’ by junior officials within the next few weeks and one or two minions may be punished as examples. If it means that these three officials, and those in the other shires, take their duties more seriously and are less outrageous in their abuses, I’ll have achieved what I set out to do. I may be unpopular with the Normans, but I doubt that anything will come of it. I certainly don’t expect any thanks from King William.”
After a pause the Queen said, “I envy you your love match. It’s something that few achieve, especially nobles- and you are now of the nobility. In Edward’s time you would have been called a King’s Thegn. My own marriage was a loveless thing. Edward married me when I was 16 and Edward was 42. The Witengemot insisted that the king marry and produce an heir and deemed me, the daughter of Godwin, the strongest and best of the earls, as most suitable.
“The English, or at least the people of Wessex, wanted and still want a king who can claim descent from the great King Alfred. All his descents were killed or went into exile when Cnut became king. Edward was the son of Ethelred and went into exile in Normandy. His brother Alfred returned to England in 1036 after the death of Cnut, but was blinded and soon died. That is a deed oft ascribed to my father, but it was done by others at the behest of the sons of Cnut.
“My father arranged the return of Edward in ’41 and when Harthacanute died Edward was crowned. That was two years before our marriage. Edward was a quiet, pious and kindly man, but quite erratic- with no liking for war and little aptitude for administration. After 25 years of exile in Normandy he was at least half-Norman and had many Norman ways and friends, which didn’t endear him to my father or the people. He had little interest in ruling and effectively my father ran the country, except for the year when he was forced into exile and Edward sent me to the abbey of Wherwell. Godwin returned a year later and died soon after in ’53, when Harold took over the administration of the kingdom.
“Duke William visited in ’51 when t duke was 23 years of age, while my family was in exile. The line of Alfred was weak and the few princes had died young with no children, except another Edward, a son of Edmund Ironside. He was sent into exile and had a son Edgar, the current Aetheling. When it became obvious there would be no heir from my union with Edward, the Witengemot searched and found Edward, known as ‘The Exile’ and persuaded him to return to England from Hungary- and I understand it took some considerable persuasion as he saw himself as Hungarian. Like most of his line he died young, leaving Edgar the sole remaining prince of the line of Alfred. Edward took the boy in and treated him as his natural heir. However, Edward was very quick with his promises of who he intended should succeed him, giving them to all and sundry.
“The current situation is the fault of my late husband’s refusal to bed me and produce heirs, because of his hatred of my father. I was willing enough, out of duty not love, but he preferred celibacy to security of the realm. Had we had a son soon after we were married, he would now be 22 or so and would have been elected last year as king instead of Harold. Harold was not of the royal blood and would not have been chosen had there been any other realistic choice- the Aetheling was just 13. Indeed the Norman invasion would not have occurred as the alleged promise of kingship would never have been made. Edward was weak, lax and easily manipulated, more concerned about the state of his soul than the state of his kingdom.
“There are only four noble families in England. The houses of Wessex, Bamburgh, Leofric and Siward. With Harold dead, Gyrth would have made a good king and been able to organise a defence of the realm, but he also fell at Hastings. Edgar and Morcar are little more than children, with no experience. Waltheof is the same.
“It’s been a bitter year for my mother Gytha and myself. We’ve seen four of the five sons of Godwin die within a year; Tostig betrayed his people and fought for the Norwegians against his brothers and was killed at Stamford Bridge; Harold, Gyrth and Leofwine were killed at Hastings. Only Wulfnoth remains, and he’s been a captive of William’s since Edward delivered him up to William fifteen years ago.
“So that is why, after my brothers died, I supported William, and still do so. Whatever the cost that may be suffered by my people, it’s less than would be the cost of opposing him- should the Aetheling’s party ever have the guts to recommend a single course of action and stop thinking of their own advantage. England is in a state of paralysis. It is as powerless to defend itself against William and his Normans as a flock of sheep against a pack of wolves. We must survive and salvage what we can.
“One change I’m glad was made was Esgar the Staller, who was until recently the sheriff of Middlesex. He’s a slippery snake of a man. He fought against William at Hastings, then returned to London and organised its temporary defiance against William, but then turned up with the others at Berkhampstead to make his submission, apparently expecting to be able to retain his position. William has retained quite a few of the officeholders under Edward and Harold, but whoever advised him on this point did well. Esgar was both corrupt and untrustworthy.
“As for me, I have had enough of these troubled times and I’ll soon retire to the nunnery at Wilton, where my friend Godgifu is the abbess. I retain, and will retain, the lands that were my dower for my marriage. How I will leave them in my Will I do not yet know. I’ll tell my thegn at Wix, Adamnan, to follow your lead in all things in Tendring Hundred.”
Alan was thoughtful about how personalities and the effects of history influence the present.
After a moment Swanhild asked Alan, “What kind of man is William? I hear that you have met him and had dealings with him.”
After a moment’s pause Alan replied, “He’s hard- as hard as iron and quite ruthless. Meticulous; he plans and considers everything in detail. Autocratic and unable to accept any criticism or lack of loyalty once sworn. His will is law. Suspicious- remember his past. There were many attempts to murder him as a child and his guardians had to keep moving him to ensure his safety. One was killed in William’s own chamber as he sought to protect him.
“From the age of 19 he’s dealt with rebellion within Normandy and invasion by France, both of which he overcame. His father Robert died when William was seven. He was a bastard son and that is something about which, while he acknowledges, he is sensitive of and will not allow others to mention in a derisory manner. Not because he is ashamed of that fact, but because he sees such comments as showing contempt for his current position and what he has achieved. He has great pride in what he has achieved, both in Normandy and England, and rightly so. He’s a superb general and a good administrator. He’s very intelligent. Although not well-lettered, he can read and write both Latin and Norman French, but is no scholar. He’ll listen to advice before he makes a decision, but not afterwards.
“He’s personally pious and I believe he intends to keep the oaths he swore at his coronation- if the English keep their oaths. He rules with an iron hand, rewards loyalty even when those receiving the rewards may not be worthy. That means that much of the land has, and will be, parcelled out and given to his friends and supporters.
“As I’m amongst friends tonight, I can instance his half-brother Odo of Bayeux who was appointed as a bishop at the age of 14. That’s not usually an age by which you can have shown sufficient devotion to God and sufficient learning to be elevated to such office. Another is Geoffrey Bishop of Coutances. Both are more used to leading troops into battle than leading a religious service. Odo is using his position as co-regent in William’s absence to enrich himself.
“William punishes disloyalty severely. He’s a complex man, but one who possesses the three most important characteristics of a king. Strength; intelligence; heirs. He has three sons.”
Edith nodded her agreement of this assessment.
“Perhaps the ending of the war of the Angevin succession and being confronted by Fulk, the new Count of Anjou, will give William something else to occupy his time. I believe that Fulk intends to contest William’s claim and power in Maine,” commented Eadnoth. “How would William react to an uprising amongst the English?” he continued.
“I believe that Edward had a deathbed dream that a year and a day after his death devils would come through the land with fire and sword and war?” said Alan. Queen Edith nodded. “Many see that as already happening, with the Normans being the devils. If there was a revolt, or serious opposition to William, that dream will come true and the devils of war will lay waste any part of England that opposes William’s will. I pray to God that the Aetheling’s party do nothing stupid and maintain their sworn loyalty, or there will be a blood-bath like nothing England has seen before.”
On that sombre note Queen Edith rose and announced that the highlight of the evening, a recitation of the saga of ‘The Battle of Maldon’ as a remembrance of the days of English greatness, would now be given.
An old bard, well dressed and with long white hair, moustache and beard entered accompanied by a younger man carrying a harp. The guests took seats around the room and, with a strum of the harp, the old man began the story, reciting from memory.
Byrhtnoth was an ealdorman of Essex who in 991 intercepted a Viking raiding force led by Olaf Tryggvason just outside Maldon. The Vikings had landed on an island which at ebb tide was joined to the mainland only by a narrow land bridge of sand and mud. The bard described Byrhtnoth’s great height, his strength despite his age of nearly sixty. Byrhtnoth’s forces were outnumbered and the levy comprised mainly of farmers, with the bard describing how Byrhtnoth had to teach them to hold weapons and stand in line of battle.
The hero’s speeches of patriotism and honour were quoted at length. The might of the Viking raiding force at over 2,000, and their prowess as warriors, were also recited at length. The Viking Olaf addressed the Saxons, promising to sail away if he was paid with gold and armour from the lord. Byrhtnoth eloquently refused. As Olaf’s men could not force their way across the narrow land-bridge guarded by the Saxons he sent word asking Byrhtnoth to allow his warriors onto the shore. Byrhtnoth, out of pride or recklessness, agreed. The subsequent battle was described virtually blow by blow, with the Vikings overwhelming the Saxons and Byrhtnoth himself being killed, apparently cut down while being attacked by three Vikings at once. The saga drew to a close with a flourish of patriotic bravery and self-sacrifice.
There was great applause and a crowd gathered around the bard to express their appreciation. Alan and Anne rose from their seats and were standing quite close to Queen Edith and Eadnoth. “I noticed that you were squirming around and being uncomfortable during the recitation,” commented Anne.
At that moment Regenbald’s son Cynebeald and another Englishman of about Alan’s own age, who had previously been introduced to Alan as being named Wigstan came up. Wigstan clapped Alan on the shoulder and asked, “What did you think of that performance?”
Alan paused for a moment’s reflection before saying, “As a theatrical performance, I must say that the bard is a master of his craft. He told the story for over an hour without a pause other than to sip ale, which he also built into the presentation. As I mentioned before to Queen Edith, I’m personally not overly fond of the alliterative style. I find the emphasis in each part of each line distracting from the story, and the use of metaphors or kennings for the sake of maintaining form a sign of poor composition. My preference is for the classical style of the Greeks and Romans.
“If your reference was to the content of the ballad, I would have to say that this is one of very few heroic English poems or sagas. What I say next will probably be offensive to you, but is the truth.” Alan was aware that Queen Edith and her small group of hangers-on had turned to listen to the conversation. “Most of the sagas recited here in England are of Norse origin. ‘Beowulf’; ‘The Fight at Finnburgh’; several others.
“The Battle of Maldon is an interesting story and one of the few English sagas. But it is a story of a lost battle. Byrhtnoth threw away his one advantage that could keep his village or town secure. His duty was to protect Maldon. When he lost, although not mentioned in the saga, the town would have been pillaged and burned. The old and the young children would have been slaughtered. The women raped and ravished, and together the surviving young men and women would have been carried away to slavery in Norway.
“A battle won is a terrible thing. I have experience of that. I imagine that a battle lost would be many times worse, not least because of the effect on the local people. Again, at the risk of offending you, there are no English sagas of victories won, because you always lose. In the last 200 years, excluding the Danish kings, I could count on the fingers of one hand those Saxon kings who understood war and who could adequately protect your lands. In fact since Alfred the Great I could probably only mention Edmund Ironside, who died young after only eight months as king, and Harold Godwinson, who was king for a similar period, who had any idea how to defend the country. Instead you choose to buy off the invaders, which worked sometimes, but at what cost?”
Queen Edith interjected quietly but forcefully, “The last year it was paid, in ’51, the Danegeld cost?82,500.”
Alan nodded and continued. “?82,500 a year. That is an amount that is simply beyond comprehension. It would have paid for a lot of soldiers and ships- an army and a navy that could defend England. The fact is that you English have chosen not to defend yourselves. It was easier to pay the enemy off. That was not the attitude of Byrhtnoth, who preferred to fight to the death. Other lands have chosen to become military in their economy and outlook. England has chosen not to do so, and that is why, over the last few hundred years, those countries that see being a warrior as an honourable occupation and who are prepared to move and expand have seen England as a ‘soft’ target- because you lack the will to defend yourselves.
“Vikings, Danes and now Normans have invaded and taken over your country. If and when you take defence seriously and are prepared to accept new methods of warfare instead of those that are 200 years out of date, you may be able to adequately defend yourselves. Individually your warriors are as brave and capable as any in the world. What they lack is discipline, training and leadership. Vikings, now Norwegians, Danes and Normans see warfare as a way of life, something to be embraced and encouraged. You English react to this, but invariably lose because your army is a levy that does not know how to fight. I’m addressing that problem in Tendring Hundred. England cannot survive unless that approach is adopted generally, although I am sure that the Norman lords have no intention of training their English minions in war as they will be afraid that this will be used against them.”
There was the sound of slow applause from one person, Queen Edith. “I wondered if I was being too subtle having Aelfric recite The Battle of Maldon, intending to have people draw a connection with the battles of last year, except that Harold wasn’t as stupid as Byrhtnoth and gave away no advantages. There are a number of men here who are, or have been, professional warriors. The only person here who seems to have heard my intended message is a foreigner who fought on the other side. All the rest of you were carried away unthinkingly by the patriotism and heroism of the story. The real story is that you only fight a battle you can win and there is no heroism in losing or death. Ask Edith Swan-Neck what the battlefield of Hastings looked like the next day, and how her lover was so disfigured by his wounds that she could only recognise him by a tattoo. Could Harold have won at Hastings?” she asked Alan.
“Definitely! The outcome was in doubt right until Harold fell. Until that moment the English could have won,” replied Alan. “Even then, had Leofwine or Gyrth still been alive to command the army, they could have either won or forced a draw and continued the fight- which with more English warriors arriving was all that the English had to do. William had to win, and win that day, or the invasion was lost. Even after Harold fell the Royal Huscarles, the thegns and their huscarles fought on… and on… and on. They had to be killed to the last man. The killing was still going on when it was fully dark. We Normans could not believe their braveness or stubbornness,” replied Alan.
“Better to be dead than run and disgraced. They also fought to the last at Maldon. And Harold had told them to stand and fight,” said Regenbald.
“Their braveness, stubbornness… and their stupidity,” replied Edith. “That is precisely my point and the point I sought to make in tonight’s saga. It’s because of that pride 2,000 manor halls have lost their thegns, men who could have lived and continue to lead the English, who will now be ruled by Normans. Any chance of effective English resistance died with them. By their pride they failed their villages and their country. Had those professional warriors survived along with just one of our generals we could have continued to resist. Instead England chose suicide that evening,” said Queen Edith harshly.
“Now, if you ladies and gentlemen will excuse me, I think that it’s time to retire,” she continued. “There will be an escort of guards to accompany you to Ludgate and I have arranged with the captain of the guard to have the gate opened to admit those of you who are residing in the city. Unless you wish to spend the night here, I suggest you make ready to leave shortly.” With a regal nod Queen Edith strode from the chamber.
The following morning Alan and Anne examined the list of properties that Malachi had as promised sent around to them, a dozen in all. Being a Sunday, the 22nd of July, there was little else to do after attending Mass at the nearby St Peter’s Church and they wandered around the city looking at each house from the street.
Feeling much safer with Bishop William and Engelric now knowing that the depositions had been delivered to the Chancellor, Alan was content to walk abroad with just two bodyguards as security against the usual cut-throats that inhabited every city.
Despite having a population of some 10,000 crammed within the city walls, with the closure of the shops and markets for Sunday the city was surprisingly lacking in hustle and bustle and the people who still thronged the streets moved more slowly and with less urgency. As they knew Jews work on Sundays, that afternoon they sent Leof to Malachi with a list of the eight houses they wished to inspect, suggesting Tuesday as being suitable. That evening Malachi sent a note in reply confirming that one of his retainers who was familiar with the properties would arrive at eight in the morning on that day to conduct them to the various properties.
The next morning, Monday, Anne and Alan visited the two glassmakers in the city, both workshops being near each other on Ropery Street near the river.
The use of glass was rare and it was explained to them that there were only three glassmakers in England, two in London and one in York. Alan explained their needs. Four large windows each about six feet high by four feet wide for one side of the Hall, eight smaller windows about four feet square, four for the opposite side of the Hall above the height of the guest rooms and four for the private rooms at the end of the Hall. Finally they needed eleven small windows about two feet by one foot for the ten guest rooms and the bathing room.
The transparency of the glass was not of particular concern as the purchase was for the purpose of allowing in light, not beautiful creations like the stained glass windows that both workshops had under manufacture. They settled on a price with a master-glassmaker from Paris named Renier, an elderly man who had migrated to England ten years before and whose broad-sheet glass was of higher quality than that of the other workshop, which Renier described as being operated by a former employee.
They watched intrigued as Renier by way of demonstration heated a mass of glass in the first furnace and blew it into an elongated shape with a blow-pipe. He then reheated it several times in the second furnace and then, while the glass was still hot, cut off both ends before cutting the resulting cylinder with shears and flattened the sheet onto a heated iron plate and then allowed the glass to slowly anneal in the third and coolest furnace to avoid it cracking.
Renier explained that the resulting piece of glass would be about one foot square after being trimmed, and that the windows would need to be made of a number of panes fitted into a wooden frame, which could then be opened or closed depending on the wish of the owner to admit or exclude outside air. On discussion with Renier Alan and Anne decided that the slightly greenish soda-glass would be acceptable, being the cheaper alternative both because of the materials and the greater ease of handling at lower temperatures.
Renier accepted Alan’s measurements and the piece of knotted cord on which they had been made, but specified that he would send an apprentice to take final measurements before the project began. The apprentice would accompany them on the journey home, and departure was arranged for Friday the 27th July. Delivery and installation was promised within six weeks and Alan paid a fifty percent deposit to seal the bargain.
They also arranged for a sheet-metal worker from Walbrook Street to travel to Thorrington and finally fix the problem of the leaking chimney.
****
Promptly at eight in the morning on Tuesday a young man in his early twenties, whose clothing and very appearance were those of the arch-typical Jew, presented himself at the ‘Fox and Goose’, advised that his name was Joshua and took them to the houses that were of interest, methodically from west to east, beginning at The Strand approximately a mile west of the city walls at Ludgate, Holebourn Bridge outside Newgate, then into the City to Coleman Street, Broad Street (where they had a meal at an inn, carefully avoiding ordering pork), then on to Bishopsgate Street and Harp Lane before swinging back to the west and visiting Friday Street and Carter Lane and so back to the ‘Fox and Goose’ at about six in the evening. There Joshua left them with encouragement to visit Malachi the following day and an assurance his master would be available all day.
Footsore from walking, Alan and Anne sat in the inn Commons to eat and drink, sharing a trencher and ordering meat pottage, pork and egg pie, spinach tart, spiced chicken stew and an apple pie with cream.
They discussed the relative merits of living inside and outside the city. Convenience, closeness to markets, the nearness to the palace at Westminster of the properties outside the city walls, their mutual dislike of the crowdedness and filth of the city and the effect that the shortness of the winter days would have on the opening and closing times of the city gates. In winter the gates would be open for less than eight hours a day.
Eventually they decided that they were most likely to be out of the city when the gates closed and that the house at Holebourn Bridge, just outside Newgate, offered the best compromise of location, size, features and cost. It was, like almost all of the houses in the city, of wooden construction and relatively elderly, requiring some repair. It had six bedrooms, a large Hall, Solar, servants’ quarters in the attic, stabling for a dozen horses and a large out-house capable of conversion into guards’ quarters. Anne made the comment that all the houses they had inspected had been vacant of their owners, but with most necessary staff present- as if Malachi had already foreclosed on the properties.
Next morning Anne insisted that they not hurry down to Malachi’s chambers, but keep him waiting so as not to seem to anxious to seal a bargain. She decided instead to go shopping and requested Alan’s presence and that of six guards.
It was that morning that Alan found something he detested about Anne. He hated going shopping with her. His idea of shopping was to know what you wanted, find it, bargain an agreed price and leave.
In London Anne was in a shopper’s heaven. Entire streets were devoted to the selling of single types of product. This morning she was, for some reason, seeking ironmongery, and the additional guards were there to be used as pack-animals. She started at one end of the row of shops and carefully examined iron and copper cooking pots and pans, cooking utensils and a whole range of items that Alan had no idea as to what they were. From time to time she would ask his opinion, which she invariably ignored.
After an hour, being driven insane by her shopping methods, as she returned to shops previously visited and like a true merchant’s daughter began to bargain down to the farthing, Alan discovered the secret to going shopping with a woman. Stand there, nod occasionally, detach the brain and think of something else.
Eventually, now down to two guards as the other four had been dispatched back to the ‘Fox and Goose’ weighed down with purchases, she decided that it was time to have a meal and then visit Malachi in his chambers.
It was early afternoon, about an hour before Nones, when they arrived at Malachi’s office and were ushered in virtually immediately. Their host poured them an excellent wine into wonderful ruby-coloured glasses. The glassware was imported from the Levant, he commented.
Anne asked if Malachi was aware of any other properties for sale and expressed some interest in the house at Holebourn Bridge, seeking the asking price.?20 said Malachi, immediately beginning a selling spiel about the spaciousness of the property, its excellent location, stabling, strong construction and so on.
Anne responded with concerns about is age, pointing out at length the extent of repair worked needed, the rising damp, dry rot, need for the roof to be re-thatched, repainting and the need for substantial alterations to meet their needs.
Malachi had a list of tradesmen who did excellent work at modest prices, the quality of whose work he could personally attest. Anne pointed out that for?20 they could buy a manor in Middlesex within five miles of the City at Chelsea or Kensington, with two or three hides of land, which would be just as convenient for attending at Westminster and which would actually produce an income instead of merely being an operating expense.
Alan hadn’t thought of that before and was genuinely keen on the idea, saying that if he visited those villages tomorrow he was sure that a visit to the local tavern in each village would produce the names of a number of land owners who had the right of sake and soke and who couldn’t afford to pay the Heriot and needed an urgent sale.
Anne thought that was an excellent idea and suggested to Malachi that they meet on Friday, before the Jewish Sabbath commenced in the evening, to discuss whether they still had any interest in the Holebourn Bridge property.
Seeing what he had thought to be a certain sale evaporating before his eyes, Malachi gritted his teeth and said that the lowest he could go would be?12 and at that price the owner would be losing money. Anne had Malachi confirm that, although outside the city walls, the property was classified as part of the city and that no Heriot was outstanding or payable on it, and then accepted the offer, instructing Malachi to have his lawyer draw up the necessary deeds and that the Heriot clause was to be included in the deed- which was something else that Alan had not considered. Anne collected the list of tradesmen from Malachi and they left the thoroughly crestfallen Jew in his office after making arrangements to meet at Sext the next day to complete the documentation and finalise payment.
Back at the ‘Fox and Goose’ Anne took Alan upstairs and made fierce love to him, thoroughly roused by her success. As they lay entwined afterwards Alan asked, “Why not Chelsea or Kensington?”
“Because, my love, any of our London friends would expect to be able to invite themselves along whenever they felt like it and use it as a hunting lodge. If you want any time to yourself you have to be either in the City or at least half a day’s ride away,” she replied in a lecturing voice as she fondled him into hardness for preparation for another bout. When they eventually rose, ready and ravenous for the evening meal, Anne sent Leof off to Renier the glassmaker to arrange a one week delay in their departure, to Friday the 3rd of August.
Next morning, Thursday, Anne spent in Threadneedle Street with Alan and four huscarles, examining ribbons, sewing threads and bolts of cloth, items of haberdashery, hats, and lace kerchiefs to cover her hair. At least the parcels sent back to the inn this morning were much smaller and lighter. Both that day and the previous day Alan had found several shops in which he was interested. Book copiers, apothecaries and a shop that dealt in specialised instruments suitable for surgery. Specialist saws, scalpels, surgical spoons and hooks, clamps, retractors and the like, apparently imported from Iberia. Anne wasn’t interested and wandered out after a few minutes, making Alan realise that he’d have to arrange his own shopping expedition.
At noon they met with Malachi and his lawyer. Alan and Anne both carefully checked through the deeds of the house at Holebourn Bridge, going back to its original grant from the Crown and the current deed, all written in English, including the clause that no Heriot was outstanding or payable on it and the standard clause that the vendor, an Englishman named Ealdean from Croyden in Surrey, knew of no defects that had not been disclosed. Ealdean had already signed and sealed the deed, properly witnessed by a priest, so presumably Ealdean had either been somewhere closer than Croyden or had been sent for last night. All was in order and Alan and Anne signed the authority for Malachi to debit their account by the sum of?12 and Malachi produced a receipt signed by Ealdean, again witnessed, for that amount.
Business transacted, they returned to the ‘Fox and Goose’ and sent Leof and two of the huscarles on errands to the carpenter, bricklayer and thatcher recommended by Malachi with instructions to the tradesmen to meet them at the house at Holebourn Bridge at Prime early the following morning. They then walked the half-mile to their new house to introduce themselves to the servants and conduct interviews.
They had noticed on their previous visit that the house had been kept reasonably clean and they had bought it fully furnished. It had a butler of about 30 years of age, a cleaning maid of about 15, a stableboy of about 12 and a female cook of about 35. The butler’s name was Aikin and had been with the previous owners for the five years they had owned the house. The maid was his daughter Aidith and the stableboy his son Tiw. They shared one room in the servants’ quarters in the attic. The cook was a fat and bad-tempered woman called Frithswith who lived with her family in the city.
Anne said, “You’re each employed on for a trial period of one week. Aitkin get some good wine and ale for a dozen hungry men. Frithswith, do the same for food- if you want to keep your job you’d better make certain you show off your cooking skills for the next week. Aitkin, order firewood for the kitchen and the fire for winter and make sure it’s stored in a dry place. Get hay and oats for a dozen horses for a week. Tiw can muck out the horses and the men can look after them this time. After this visit, if you are retained, when we are in residence you can hire an extra stable hand, a serving maid and a scullery maid.
“Aidith, it looks as if you know your job as you’ve been keeping the place tidy. I have my own personal maid and will usually have a second maid. They can help with the work around the house. Aidith, you move into your own room in the attic. It’s not fitting for you to be sharing a room with your brother and father. Air all the rooms, particularly the bedrooms and the beds. Get some men to remove all the old rushes on the floor and scatter new ones.
“Aitkin, get the rat-catcher in- today. I’ll order linen and have it delivered here tomorrow for when we move in. Aidith, there will be ten huscarles, all young and full of their own self-importance. They’ll be told to leave you alone and it is up to you to repeat that to them if one of them gropes you without your permission. If they do so, you tell me. You aren’t employed to put up with that and I want to hear of any problems. Whether we retain any of you depends on how you perform this week, so I expect you all to be at your best.”
The tradesmen were present on time next morning. Anne had each of them spend the morning taking a full inventory of the work to be done on the house, including wood to be replaced because of dry rot, weathering or insect attack, brickwork needing attention and the whole of the building to be painted inside and out. Anne and the carpenter sketched out plans to convert the outhouse into a barracks for a dozen men. Then Anne returned to the City to buy mattresses, bed linen, towels, drapes and those items the previous owners had removed, including ordering a large bed to be made for the main bedchamber by a cabinet-maker in Wood Street, extra storage boxes, benches, tables and chairs.
The following morning the tradesmen were back and they provided detailed specifications of the work they proposed be done. This Anne and Alan adjusted to remove some work they felt was unnecessary, and prices were agreed. Half was to be paid on commencement on Friday 3rd August and the balance on completion, to be no later than All Saints Day on 1st November when Alan and Anne intended to return.
The horses were led into the stables by the huscarles, to the great excitement of Tiw, who clearly loved the animals and spent all his time fussing over them. A series of carts drew up making deliveries and Anne spent the afternoon making payments from the cash that they had withdrawn from Gideon’s office. By evening, when they had settled in, the house had been changed from being semi-derelict into something with some degree of vibrancy. Anne was sure that when they returned in three months that the property would be virtually unrecognisable.
****
Anne spent a large part of the next week shopping. Alan spent a morning going through three apothecary shops to refill his supplies of medicines and an interesting couple of hours visiting the medical instruments shop, having the different instruments explained to him and making a number of purchases. The two bookshops that the city boasted held little of interest to him except a relatively plain copy of the Bible that Alan intended to donate to the Wivenhoe church. Brother Cuthbert, the librarian at the abbey, was most helpful. He examined most carefully the list produced by Brother Leanian, the librarian of the Colchester Priory, promising a number of works missing from that list including two more chapters of Hippocrates’ Corpus and some works of Galen, and was most interested in the three chapters of the Corpus not in his library. Alan’s personal library continued to grow by this means.
He also spent a day at the Saturday livestock market at Smithfield, which was quite near to their house, purchasing twelve chargers, six stallions and six mares, for delivery at Aldgate on Friday morning at Terce. Next was a visit to Wood Street to purchase from the bowyers the 22 crossbows that were the entire stock of the seven shops, and an order for 10 more from the best of the bowyers to be ready on the 1st of November, with a 20 percent deposit paid in advance.
They spend several days wandering through the winding streets of the city. A person could barely walk a dozen paces without being accosted, and in the crowds was the every-present risk of the attentions of a cut-purse waiting to relieve the unwary of their money. For this reason Alan and Anne both rarely walked abroad in the city without at least two burly huscarles with them, one close ahead forcing a passage through the crowd and the other close behind to watch for trouble. In Anne’s case she frequently also had Tiw the stable hand or Leof the page, or sometimes both, with her to carry her purchases.
There were many spectacles to be seen as one walked through the city, with something always happening. This may be a group of barefoot flagellants walking through the city, beating themselves and each other with thorn branches or short leather whips; those guilty of some misdemeanour such as adultery standing in the double stocks located in the square outside St Paul’s Cathedral, being pelted with rotten fruit or other filth as punishment for their sins; cock-fights, with a crowd of 100 or more spectators standing in a circle, shouting and betting as the birds leapt and struck at each other with beak and spurs, feathers and blood flying; bull-baiting with a tethered bull struggling to protect itself from the attack of a small pack of hounds; puppet shows and mummer’s plays; religious processions on the days of the many saints, many processions quite small with just the congregation of one of the many dozens of small churches scattered throughout the city.
Finally, on the 3rd August after meeting with the tradesmen and making the agreed payments, Anne met with the house staff and advised Frithswith that she would not be retained as cook as both her culinary skills and temperament were lacking. The cook was paid off and Aitkin instructed to find another cook to commence when they returned, with Aitkin being given a purse of pennies for the next three months wages for himself and his children. After leaving the house they collected the apprentice glassmaker and the metalworker, who rode on a small cart pulled by a donkey that carried the purchases which to were being taken to Essex. They departed from Aldgate at mid-morning, each man leading a spare horse, on what would be a leisurely but uncomfortable two day ride to Thorrington. It had started to rain heavily.*