“So all the effort has been a waste of time,” commented Alan.
“Not… really,” replied Regenbald thoughtfully, his blue eyes glinting over the lip of the mug as he took another sip of mulled ale. “You’ve made three firm enemies, and two of those are the Bishop of London and the earl of East Anglia, so they are of some importance. But you also gained a reputation amongst the few Normans who are not here to rape the country, and the English in the middle and lower ranks. Not that their opinion counts for much, but being something of a folk-hero will give you some protection. Obviously the individuals you helped received benefit from what you have done and will be grateful- however much assistance that may be.
“Given that the matters didn’t proceed to the Curia, William didn’t have to make a choice and I’m sure that if your actions result in a reduction in the excessive depredations against the lower classes he’ll not be displeased, even if he is not overly bothered either way. It’s one thing to shear the sheep and wait for the fleece to grow again. It’s another thing to shear it and also cut off one leg. The sheep would die and you lose the next ten years of wool production. Moderation needs to be shown by the lords. Hopefully your shedding light on what was happening in Essex will reduce some of the excesses. ”
“And the Heriot?” queried Alan.
“It’s part of your Norman law that a Relief has to be paid when a property is passed on. English law had a similar requirement with the Heriot. The king is applying that to all properties held by those who did not actively support him before Hastings. What he and the Curia say is the law, is the law. I know your reservations and share them. What is fair and just, and what actually happens, are very different things and always have been. Nobody says life is fair,” he concluded with a shrug.
“So Alan has incurred the wrath of three powerful men and walks in fear for his life, for nothing?” asked Anne.
Regenbald gave a wry smile. “More than three men! They have powerful friends and many retainers. But also not for nothing- they also have powerful enemies, who now will be more positively inclined to your family. You helped the individuals concerned and have made it likely that abuses will be less blatant in future. And the English will of course love you. Or at least they would if you weren’t a Norman, so perhaps a better word would be ‘respect’.
“You’ve probably gained as much as you’ve lost. Indeed if you had to make enemies these were probably the ones to make as they have relatively little influence. You can’t make friends without making enemies of those who oppose your friends. But I’d suggest that in the future you keep your head down and your mouth shut unless what you’re doing is part of a well thought out plan to advance your own political interests. There’s little benefit in being popular with the English, who either have no power or who are viewed with suspicion. Do you want Edwin and Morcar as your allies? No, I didn’t think so. No sane man would in the present circumstances, even if they weren’t so young and unreliable.
“Stay in the good books of King William, fitzOsbern, de Grandmesnil, Robert of Mortain, Robert of Eu, de Montgomerie and the like. Also Odo of Bayeux, if you can stomach him. Most of them are good enough men, although self-centred and mainly concerned with their own advancement. All are completely ruthless, of course. Iron hands in iron gauntlets.”
“And do you recommend Alan pursue a policy of advancing himself?” asked Anne.
Regenbald gave another small smile before he replied. “No. Neither of you are ruthless enough. You literally have to be prepared to sell your own children, and to sell your integrity, honour and decency. You have to cheat, lie and kill. Better to be a big fish in a small pond, than a medium-sized fish in an ocean full of predators. If nothing else, it’s safer. Now, I’ve heard a whisper on the grapevine from the English that you are a general of no small ability, with your own army,” continued Regenbald.
Alan frowned and then gave a wry smile of his own. “Well, we didn’t beat the Danes by holding a drinking contest,” he replied modestly.
“How many men?” demanded Regenbald.
“If they all come if called, and by that I mean every fighting man in Tendring not just my men, 500 men- about 100 horsemen. All trained and fully equipped- now, not when we fought the Danes,” replied Alan proudly.
“A small army indeed. And the stories of you calling the clouds to rain fire?”
“Yes, we did that. Very useful, but it makes a hell of a mess,” answered Alan cryptically.
Regenbald raised his eyebrows in query and waited for further details, which were not forthcoming. With a pout of annoyance he decided that he’d have to wait and get that information elsewhere. “Formidable,” he said with a nod. “I can understand why you keep that quiet, as many would see your being able to raise as many men as the earl of East Anglia as being a threat, let alone having God provide fire-support for you.”
“Power comes at the point of a sword,” replied Alan with a smile. “And God had nothing to do with it.”
“No! Power does not come at the point of the sword. Not unless you have 5,000 of them- and in the right place at the right time. Power comes from the political influence you can wield and who are your friends and allies, and the money you have available to bribe and suborn others. It comes from the information your spies can obtain and what you do with it. And how many swords you can muster,” lectured Regenbald. “500, or even 5,000, swords in Essex are of little use to you here in London today. In two weeks, if you have them camped outside, maybe- but not today. Power is made up of many components, and as I said before you don’t have the ruthlessness to wield power effectively. So keep the extent of your strength a secret.”
Regenbald popped a dried date, imported from Iberia and placed with others in a bowl on a table near his elbow, into his mouth with an expression of delight. The platter contained various delicacies, nuts and dried apple and pear, candied fruits and the more exotic dates.
Alan tilted his head to one side in reflection and nodded to show he had absorbed and accepted the advice. “I have enough land to satisfy my family’s requirements for the next generation. If and when it arrives,” he added with a smile to Anne. “And enough money to do what we want. We live simply enough, although comfortably. Once bought, luxuries like comfortable chairs, glass windows and fur cloaks last virtually indefinitely- as do the swords and armour we took from the Danes at Wivenhoe.”
“You’re saying that you don’t need more money! Either you are very wealthy or simple in the mind!” said Regenbald with a snort of amusement.
With a smile Alan replied, “Simple in needs, and with a wife who is an excellent money-manager and has a wealthy family.” He cast a warm look at his wife.
Aethelu spoke up for the first time, “The value of a good wife is often overlooked. Anne does you proud. Her involvement with the ladies of the royal court, both Norman and English, is very clever. Wives have no power to make decisions, but those women from prominent families know as much, if not more, than their husbands about politics and their views will affect what the lords decide to do. They’re politically knowledgeable and important advisers, even if they are not in the Chamber when the matters are discussed. They also have the time to plot and plan. Most have been traded as children to form or strengthen alliances and are expected to have their children do the same. They are also, almost without exception, strong characters who refuse to sit quietly in the background. Matilda of Flanders is an excellent example. A physically small woman with a strength and character as strong as her husband the king, and so well regarded by him that he was prepared to face papal disapproval to marry her. Going to war against a family with whom your wife is friendly is not an option that many lords would be prepared to consider lightly.”
After that the conversation drifted off into general matters, while a supper of smoked meats, sugared fruits, cheeses, fresh warm bread and butter was served.
The next afternoon Anne called to see Malachi the Jew, spending some time closeted with him.
Several hours later she arrived at a disreputable inn called ‘The Dancing Bear’ in the Shambles. Six of her huscarles, armed but unarmoured, stood nearby just out of hearing, receiving many a look from the other patrons and certainly acting as a damper on the talk and behaviour in the Commons. Osmund sat with her at a table near the fire, a pint of poor and sour ale standing untouched in front of him and a cup of poor mead on the table before Anne. Out of respect for their health Anne had not ordered any food.
A slightly ferret-faced, tall, thin and balding Englishman named Gareth sat opposite them, dressed in clean but poor clothing, with a half-empty pint of ale on the table and a meat-bone in his hand, at which he from time to time sipped or gnawed respectively.
‘So, Gareth, what I require is information from the important houses, noble and non-noble. Norman and English. Not just here in London, but wherever the household may move. You come highly recommended and as such it’s not my place to tell you how to obtain such information. As I understand it you earn a good income from purveying information, which belies your appearance. I don’t necessarily need exclusivity of information, but that information that directly affects my interests I expect not to be provided to those with contrary interests. Obviously, the fact that I have certain information is not to be known. I would comment that suborning those who serve at table is a relatively cheap and effective way of getting good information. Corrupting the clerks is more difficult, but possible. However, you’d know more than I about these matters. I particularly want full details of what happens in the houses of the Bishop of London, Engelric and Earl Ralph the Staller. I’ll pay you?5 a month initially, and we can review that as your network grows. Agreed? Good. Now I want to make a particular point…
Two days later William Bishop of London awoke and disengaged himself from the lithesome young man on the bed alongside him. He then stared in amazement at the poniard dagger with its long thin blade plunged deep into the bed beside him. A hunting arrow lay on the bed beside the dagger. Within a few minutes Engelric and Earl Ralph, in their respective houses, woke to similar silent messages. Anne had not been able to ascertain who had attacked her husband. If she had, the dagger would have been plunged into the body and not left as a warning. Still, she was sure that all three would understand the communication.
On Christmas Day 1067 King William stood at the altar of the Winchester Cathedral, knelt for several minutes and then moved to his position near the choir. The great lords of two lands, the barons, earls and the lords who held under them, took their turn at kneeling at the altar, including Alan. Later they attended the feast arranged by King William.
Two days later Alan and his party rode north towards the Welsh border.
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Wolves in Armour nc-1 Page 44