Wolves in Armour nc-1

by Iain Campbell

  The dinner arrived and was placed on the large table, with the guests being seated. Anne made sure she was seated next to Alan and was sharing his trencher. They started with a bowl of pheasant soup, spiced with cinnamon, ginger and grains of paradise. This was followed by spiced veal pies, pork pies with saffron, cheese and pine nuts, green peas with almond milk and mint, fried broad beans with onions, chicken, veal and bacon stew with herbs, baked veal, with a variety of pastries and tarts made with fresh berry fruit.

  When Mae repeated Orvin’s comment, Anne gave a golden laugh and brushed a stray strand of auburn hair from her eyes. “Yes, he is a soldier, of sorts. He’s the lord of Thorrington Manor, not far from Wivenhoe- and of five other manors. We’ve come to work out with you what date would be convenient for you all to come to the wedding. We think that 30th of June or 7th July would be suitable.” That was news to Alan, but he didn’t demur- after all he had said the wedding should be as soon as possible.

  There was immediate pandemonium as everybody began to ask questions at once.

  “How long have you known him?”

  “Since February the 5th to be precise. I woke up to find myself in his bed, where I stayed for two months.” She related the story of her survival of the attack, medical treatment, her return home and a heavily edited version of the attack on Wivenhoe. “So he’s saved my life twice, and is the most accomplished man I’ve met He not only reads, he even owns books. He has his own small library, in English, Latin and Greek. And his English has improved so much that now you can hardly tell he’s French.”

  “Norman,” corrected Alan automatically. He’d quietly mentally drifted off into a world of his own. Hearing his own praises sung at length was not something he found interesting, although it did give him some insight into Anne and her views of him. He wasn’t sure how much was accurate and how much was for public consumption. He’d learned by now that Anne was, after all, a very complex person.

  “He’s also the owner of a fleet of trading ships,” continued Anne. Orvin’s eyebrows raised at this.

  “With a partner,” interjected Alan.

  “Only a sleeping partner so far, and that’s only been for nine days,” said Anne. Lora’s face turned beet-red at that. “But I’m sure I’ll be able to help with that and other business matters. We all learned how to turn two pennies into three in this household. And father, the good news is that you don’t have to pay a dowry this time! I still have the old one and have built on it.”

  The ladies gathered at one end of the room chattering about wedding preparations, the short time available until the chosen day. The consensus was for the 7th July, dresses and all sorts of other essential items and were gossiping freely.

  The men gathered at the other end of the Hall and did what all men do in these circumstances. They drank. Alan stood with Orvin, Raedwald and Garrett. Orvin downed his glass of wine in a gulp, before filling the glasses of each of them. Alan continued to sip at his refilled glass.

  “Four years in a monastery,” said Raedwald. “Why did you leave?”

  “I had trouble with some of the vows. I was only an oblate, not a noviate. Chastity was the main problem. They found me with one of the young women training to be a nun. I’d had some youthful problems before then but that was the final straw. Nothing to worry about Orvin! I’m a one-woman-at-a-time man and if that was any woman but Anne I’m sure she would remove my manhood with a blunt knife! Seriously, we’re well-matched. The only problem may be that she might be too self-willed and too intelligent for me, but those are issues we have to work out. I think that after her last marriage she’d put up with pretty well anything, although in the last year or so since Aelfric died she’s certainly spread her wings.”

  In a change of topic Garrett asked, “What about Hastings? Will you tell us about it?”

  Alan paused and rubbed his chin in thought before replying “No, I won’t. There were 15,000 men hacking each other to pieces in an area not much bigger than a cow paddock. There were over 5,000 dead. Bodies, and pieces of bodies, lying everywhere, individually and in piles. So much blood spilled that the streams ran red. No, it’s not something I want to remember, or which should be glorified.”

  “What about the battle at Wivenhoe?” urged Betlic.

  Again Alan shook his head. “That’s too fresh in the mind and again too many died, many burned most horribly at my command. No! No battle stories! Despite what the warriors say, there’s no glory in battle- just blood and death and pain. If you want you can ask Anne, she was standing by me as we watched the engines at work, but I very much doubt she wants to remember the event either. Or the aftermath of caring for the dying and wounded.”

  “Anne was at the battle?” demanded Orvin.

  Alan smiled. “I told her to stay in the Hall. It was her village, so do you think that she would obey instructions?”

  “Well, I certainly hope that she’s more happy with you than she was with Aelfric,” said Orvin. “That was the biggest mistake of my life. I was newly entitled to be seen as thegn-worthy, having just completed the required voyages. She was fourteen. Aelfric seemed suitable and held significant lands. It seemed an appropriate match.”

  “You can at least be sure that I won’t physically and mentally abuse her in the way that Aelfric did. I’ve never beaten a woman yet. She’ll do well enough and be happy, as will I. She even made me pay off my leman and send her away- even before she arrived in my Hall! You’ve a remarkable daughter, not least after what she has gone through with her spirit unbroken. Now if you’ll excuse me, we’ve been in the saddle since daybreak this morning and I think that it’s time my affianced and myself retired. We’ll see you in the morning. Not too early!”

  Rescuing Anne from the chattering women they walked arm in arm up the stairs to the small bed.

  Next morning they rose late and, other than the servants, the house was empty. Orvin and Lora had attended the Prime service at St. Stephens Church and had still not returned home, probably visiting the house of a fellow parishioner. Being Sunday the servants expected Orvin to spend the day at home as the warehouse would be closed for the day.

  “You know, being in a city with proper churches, we really also should be more observant,” suggested Anne. “It’s one thing to go to church a couple of times a week in a small village when that’s all the services there are, but here most of the churches hold four services a day.”

  Alan agreed readily enough, but specified he wanted to attend the Holy Trinity Priory, just north of the city walls, and not necessarily every day as he didn’t expect to sin often enough to need absolution that frequently. He ignored Anne’s muttered comments about fornication being a sin. Dressing appropriately, well but not ostentatiously, and with Anne having her hair covered and wearing a simple dress with a high neckline, they took the short walk along Brook Street to the priory.

  The paved streets were littered with refuse and they had to pick their way between piles of excrement, animal and human, and garbage thrown in the street. It had been some time since heavy rains had flushed the waste down the gutter in the centre of the road and into the river.

  The town was busy with people bustling along the streets. Women were on their way to the marketplace. The poor, middling and well-to-do all went about their business. Hawkers were crying their wares from stalls and barrows in the streets, seeking to sell items as diverse as haberdashery and meat pies. Every few paces they were accosted by somebody trying to sell something. Taylors’ and dressmakers’ touts stood outside their shops trying to inveigle customers to enter. Beggars cried for alms. Children and street-urchins shouted as they ran and played. One street was nearly blocked by a crowd watching a cock-fight and noisily urging the birds on.

  After passing out of the North Gate the priory bells began to ring for Sext, marking mid-day, and they quickly ascended the stairs to the chapel.

  The chapel was surprisingly spacious and reasonably well attended with a congregation of about 100 present. Alan
mused that they had perhaps been attracted by the benches installed for the use of the congregation, instead of the usual situation where the congregation either stood or knelt for the duration of the service.

  The choir of twenty monks were already present and singing a quiet plainchant when Alan and Anne took their places on a partly empty bench near the middle of the church. The prebend was standing to one side of the nave dressed in lavish vestments while the altar-boys lit the many candles on the well-appointed altar, and afterwards lit the incense in the censer. A light cloud of sweet-smelling smoke rose into the air. The service included High Mass in Latin and was simple and moving, Alan feeling both fervour and peace as he received the sacrament, looking up at the large carved gilded wooden figure of Christ Crucified positioned above the altar as he received the Host.

  As they walked back into the town Alan nodded to the guards at the gate and received a similar acknowledgement. “We should go to confession while we’re here,” he said. “I find it hard to confess anything to Brother Godwine, who is a hypocrite who probably sins more than I do. If you can find out from your mother when Confession is heard at St. Stephens I can make an appointment. After the last few months I have quite a lot to confess and it’ll take a while. It’s hardly fair to the priest to do it during the normal confessional time.”

  A pot full of night-soil thrown from an upper storey window narrowly missed them and as Alan looked up in anger he stepped in a pile of rotting vegetables, afterwards trying to clean his boot on the stone of the street gutter.

  On the way back to Carr Street Alan called in at the ‘Fox’s Head’ inn to ensure that his men had found accommodation and were, within reasonable limits, behaving themselves. The ‘Fox’s Head’ was a lower class inn and catered for cheorls and soldiers, with adequate but plain food and with the guests sleeping on the floor of the Commons or in the dormitory upstairs.

  Arriving back at Carr Street Alan left his shoes at the door with an instruction to Rinan to arrange for their cleaning. Inside Orvin and Lora were sitting down to a relatively simple meal of soup, beef stew with herbs and fresh fruit, washed down with ale, as Sunday was the cook’s day off. After the meal Lora, as a result of her early start of attending church services, retired upstairs to her bedroom for a nap and Alan learned that she and Orvin no longer shared a bedchamber.

  Orvin took them to the room he used as an office. There was a large heavy wooden chest in the corner, a large table covered in pieces of parchment, with quills and an ink-pot and a jug of wine. Four chairs were placed around the table.

  “Now, I believe in keeping accounts current,” said Orvin in a businesslike manner. “?327 less ten percent is?294 and eighty pennies. Will you want it in cash? One of the problems of trade in England is the only currency is pennies, and 70,640 pennies are a real nuisance to transport- you’ll need a wagon. I can arrange French gold marks if you prefer, but I get charged a half-percent discount by my money-man. Or I can arrange payment through the Jews.”

  “Payment through the Jews? You mean you would borrow the money?” asked Alan in confusion.

  “No, no! Most of my wealth is tied up in goods going from one place to another or sitting in warehouses. Cash causes problems because it’s hard to store, earns nothing while it is sitting there and is more easily stolen than say a ton of wool or cloth. I deal with several of the Jews here in Ipswich, and also in London and York, and lend them my spare cash. Where do you think they get the money to lend to gentiles? It’s from people like me. They pay me a modest rate of interest, fifteen percent a year, and charge a higher rate when they lend it out. They bear all the risks of non-payment by the borrower and the difficulty and cost of recovery if necessary. Of course you only do this with relatively small amounts such as your current amount, and usually spread it amongst several moneylenders. One of my moneylenders, Solomon, also has businesses in Colchester and London. He’s as honest as any of them- which means to say very honest. If you want some money in cash and the rest available for you to draw on whenever you need it, I can arrange that with him. That way you would only need to ride up to Colchester to pick up what money you need, or you can access your money here or in London. He also has contacts on the continent, but making money available overseas costs a five percent discount.”

  “We probably only need say?50 in cash at Thorrington. If Solomon has say?50 at London,?100 at Colchester and the rest here at Ipswich, that should be adequate,” said Anne thoughtfully. “I can’t see us needing more than 1,000 shillings in cash.”

  “Fine,” said Orvin. “I’ll take you to see Solomon tomorrow. He’s working today of course, but I keep the Sabbath, our Sabbath, whenever possible. Otherwise Lora gives me three kinds of hell. I’ll give Anne the names of several other Jews, so you don’t have ‘all your eggs in one basket’ if something goes wrong. Any investment, even putting the cash under the bed, carries some risk.

  “Now what is this about the trading ships?” he asked as he poured each a cup of wine. Alan sipped in anticipation and was disappointed. Orvin smiled at his expression and commented, “You can’t have Bordeaux every day or you get spoiled. This is a cheap light red from Anjou.”

  Anne replied, “Alan captured the longships after they had raided Colchester and had emptied the best of the items from the warehouses there. There’s no doubt that they, the trading ships and the cargo belongs to him by right of salvage- it was more than one day after they were stolen by the Danes. However, I thought it made sense to avoid potential claims by the former owners by disposing of both the ships and cargoes overseas as quickly as possible, before anybody except a few of Alan’s household knew about it.”

  “That was sensible,” commented Orvin. He picked up several pieces of parchment and, not sure who to give them to, put them between Anne and Alan. “This is the inventory. May I congratulate you on your very significant wealth, assuming that the ships make harbour. This will make you one of the wealthiest merchants on the east coast. As instructed, my factors will sell the cargoes and ships, buy new ships and cargoes and choose the best crews they can, both from your existing crews and whoever else is available. There will be a substantial surplus in cash, because the items you are selling are very high-value, so you’ll need to think about what to do about that.”

  After a pause he continued, “While there are always risks of pirates and storms, the best part of the shipping business is you never make less than thirty percent on the value of the cargo and there are no tithes and no geld to pay.”

  “I’m not really comfortable about all this merchant business all of a sudden. I haven’t even got used to the idea of being a landowner yet! Also, you know that the nobles hate the merchant class. I can see now that it may because individually you merchants are at least as wealthy as the nobles, but have none of the responsibilities!” said Alan hesitantly.

  “That’s no problem! Nobody needs to know about your business interests. You can use my business as a ‘front’ if you like. For a twenty percent commission,” replied Orvin.

  “Ten,” said Anne firmly. “And I keep separate books, separate warehouses and ships. No intermixing of cargo.”

  Orvin sighed at the way that his daughter was taking blatant advantage of him, and then asked, “Where do you intend to base? Ipswich is the main trading centre for the east coast between London and York.”

  “Ipswich to start with, or possibly Colchester, although it’s just had its vulnerability pointed out,” replied Anne. “We may need a factor in London or at the capital at Winchester to handle some of the luxury goods.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t say York. The Northerners area strange lot and still live by the Danelaw rather than the Laws of Wessex. I can see trouble brewing up there, and beyond.”

  “I think I can do something about the vulnerability of our ships in and near Colchester,” said Alan thoughtfully. “Where are the ships usually attacked?”

  “Usually near their home port. The people you are dealing with won’t attack
your ships near their own lands, or on the way to or from, because they know that nobody would trade with them again. Ships are rarely found by pirates on the high seas. Whoever it is- the Danes, Norwegians, Irish, Flemings or French- come and seize the ships off our ports, where they are concentrated into a small area, or in particular areas such as near the Channel Islands. They leave their own trading ships alone, of course,” replied Orvin.

  “The Normans don’t have a fleet. Would the merchants of Ipswich pay for a small fleet to protect the estuary area?” asked Alan.

  “Why? That is what the geld is for,” replied Orvin.

  “Yes, but you just said that the merchants aren’t paying any geld, other than what is levied on the city,” said Alan sarcastically.

  Orvin laughed. “Yes, you’re right. I did say that. How big a fleet do you envisage?”

  “I thought four or five ships.”

  “I don’t think that would be enough to discourage anything more than individual pirate boats. With those numbers you’d have only one or at most two ships at sea at any time. Any organised expedition is usually five or six ships packed with Danes, and they are very good sailors and fighters. The ships you took from them you seized on land or by surprise. Coming on them on the open sea would be another matter altogether,” said Orvin discouragingly.

  “I’ll perhaps have a trial run at Colchester, based at Point Clear just opposite Brightlingsea, and see if my ideas work out. I’m thinking of using a ballista and fire arrows on each of my boats. Can you find me fifty sailors who have guts and fire in them? Particularly say five men who would make good and reliable skippers?”

  Orvin shrugged his scrawny shoulders and replied, “I don’t see why not. The going pay rate for a coastal sailor is half a shilling a week and a captain a shilling a week.”