Winter of Discontent nc-2

by Iain Campbell

  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 h
ad 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.