Winter of Discontent

take off like flying-fish.”

“Ballista and Wildfire,” corrected Alan automatically, and then asked, “Flying-fish?” certain that Bjorn was making a joke.

“Yes, there are fish that fly. Their fins are like little wings and when they’re being chased by bigger fish they jump out of the water and fly for… oh fifty paces or so. You see them mainly in warmer waters. You can catch them with hand-nets, or they may fall onto the deck. Very sweet eating,” replied Bjorn. The lack of a mischievous twinkle in his eyes made Alan believe him, no matter how outlandish the story.

Just then the servants brought in dinner. It was the simple but tasty fare that they preferred at home. In this instance beef and kidney pie, herb pork sausages and rabbit stew, with mustard vegetables and fresh bread. They were aware that Bjorn hated eating fish, as a result of his upbringing in Norway where there were few other sources of protein. Dessert was a variety of piquant cheeses with bread and fresh butter- Neufchatel, Roquefort, Gorgonzola, Cheshire and Romano, mainly imported from France or Italy- and dried or candied fruits and nuts. Bjorn reverted to ale after he had finished his cup of Aquae Vitae. Alan and Osmund drank a fine Bordeaux wine and Anne fruit cordial as she was making an effort to reduce her drinking due to her pregnancy.

“You promised last time to tell us about your journey to Vinland,” reminded Anne.

“Ah!” replied Bjorn. “That was a few years after the voyage down the Volga to Constantinople and back via the Levant, Greece, Italy and Iberia. I’d spent my gold by then and was again a sailor with little in my purse. It should’ve been enough to last me for life, but it’s surprising how a sailor can spend money,” he said with a smile. “That voyage was also with Knut Sweinsson, three longboats this time. It would have been in… oh about ’32 or ’33. I was twenty-five. We were promised that the voyage west would see us rich. Fucking liars! It was 250 miles west across open ocean to the Shetlands, then 250 more north-west to the Faeroes- both windswept desolate hell-holes. Why anybody would want to live in either place I know not- I thought Norway was bad enough. Then 400 miles north-west to Iceland. It was summer, so the weather was reasonable. Iceland is just a land of rocks and ice. Some grasslands in the south grazed by sheep.

“Greenland- another 1,500 miles west. It has some trees and vegetation. The local Norwegians farm cattle, hunt and trade seal and other furs and whale oil. There are native people there, broad flat faces and slanted eyes, who don’t cause any real problems. They’re nice enough people.

“Then Vinland. Sail south-west nearly 2,000 miles further and you can’t miss it. It’s fucking huge, but you do need to go some distance south down the coast to find reasonably hospitable conditions. There’s forests, grassland, lakes and wild animals. Deer, elk, seals, including one whose young has pure white fur. Lots of birds and fish. We had a good look around and couldn’t find signs of any minerals except coal. Nothing you couldn’t find a lot damn closer to home!

“In the recent past the Vikings had two settlements for a very brief period of a year or two. It is difficult to set up colonies so far away and when the natives, the skr?lingar, are very fierce. We spent the winter in Vinland and sailed back the next year, nearly starving and totally penniless. The natives in both Greenland and Vinland have nothing we want, and want nothing we have. They wear skins, have weapons of stone and bone and live in houses made of animal skins or pieces of wood. They have no money and no precious metals or jewels. They don’t want any trade, even if they had something to trade. At least the natives in Greenland don’t fill you full of arrows or try to stick a spear in your guts every time they see you.

“ Knut died in Vinland at our camp, killed by the skr?lingar, as were many of our men. If he hadn’t been, when he got back he would have gutted King Sveinn Knutsson like a fish for gulling him into undertaking the voyage by promising a rich land where you just had to bend over to pick up the gold pieces. Three ships and 210 men departed. One ship and 21 men returned, without a single silver penny to their name.”

Alan, Anne and Osmund spent the evening picking further details out of Bjorn’s capacious memory and enjoying the story.

On Tuesday 6th May the King’s Council, the Curia Regis, the Norman-dominated successor to the Saxon Witenagemot, was convened in the Hall at Westminster Palace as the bells of the adjacent abbey rang for Terce. Archbishop Stigand of Canterbury blessed those attending and intoned several prayers in Latin. Chancellor Regenbald called the meeting to order and began to conduct the meeting on behalf of King William, who sat on the raised dais next to Regenbald with Duchess Matilda his wife at his side.

The royal couple wore thick robes of red velvet together with, in William’s case, a small gold crown- and for Matilda a golden diadem. Alan was sure that they would spend an even more uncomfortable day than he, despite the padded cushions on which they sat. Already the room was warm and the atmosphere was rank with the smell of many unwashed bodies. With the heat, lack of ventilation and relative darkness in the Hall, Alan expected that the soporific effect would soon have most of those assembled nodding off to sleep. No agenda had been circulated or announced, but the front benches were packed with the king’s close associates, including Roger de Montgomerie, Hugh de Grandmesnil, Geoffrey de Mandeville, Richard fitzGilbert, William de Warrene, Count Stephen, Robert Count of Eu, William Peverel and Hugh de Montford, the English earls Waltheof, Edwin and Morcar, the English archbishops Stigand and Ealdred- and not least the king’s half-brothers Bishop Odo of Bayeux, Robert Count of Mortain and his cousin William fitzOsbern.

Those who were not present was of as much interest as who were. Edgar the Aetheling, the last of the line of King Alfred, had fled north to Scotland with a number of nobles, including Maerle-Sveinn who had been sheriff of Lincolnshire under Harold and who had previously been confirmed in that position by William.

Apart from Matilda, two women were in attendance on the front row of seats. Queen Edith, widow of Edward the Confessor, and King William’s niece Countess Judith. Behind them sat the lesser lords, including Roger Bigod, Hugh fitzGrip, Ivo Taillebois and many other Norman lords, together with the many Norman and English bishops and middle-level thegns such as Tovi, sheriff of Somerset, Thorkel of Arden and Eadric of Wiltshire. Alan sat amongst this august group. Behind again sat a rabble of assorted persons whose position at such proceedings was at best questionable.

Proceedings started with a rambling discussion of disputes between several bishoprics as to land, offices and privileges. King William and the duchess sat and listened to the sometimes heated arguments for an hour or so, before rising to leave at a suitable break. All present stood as the couple walked into a side-room arm-in-arm, the diminutive duchess appearing very small alongside her husband. There was a general break for a few minutes while some of the others, particularly in the front ranks of the nobility, also chose to retire. A few of the more conscientious left scribes to take notes of important points for their later attention.

At about eleven in the morning, as the second of the ecclesiastical disputes was about half-heard, Alan gently lifted the head of a quietly snoring Roger Bigod from his shoulder and leaned him back in his chair before rising to squeeze down the row of Curia members and out into the corridor outside. A flunkey directed him to first the garderobe where he relieved himself, and then the refreshment rooms. As a member of the Inner Council Alan was entitled to join the ‘rich and famous’ in the room set aside for their use, and entered to help himself to food and drink, both of fine quality. He noted several of the mighty lords either standing or sitting together and chatting, or in some cases leaning back asleep on chairs. Out of interest he called into the room set aside for the lesser lords, largely still unoccupied despite their relatively greater numbers. The flunkey advised there was no room set up for the hoi polloi- if they required refreshment they could leave the premises and apparently nobody would care whether they returned to cast whatever vote they may have.

The second case was winding up as Alan returned to the Hall. He didn’t bother waking Roger to ask him his opinion and voted based on what he had heard so far, the case seeming quite simple.

There appeared little logic in the way that matters were presented to the Council, or whether the king was in attendance in the chamber or not. His comings and goings didn’t appear to be determined by the seriousness of the matters at hand. Knowing the administrative abilities of both William and Regenbald, Alan could only assume that the muddled presentation was deliberate.

After a break for a leisurely luncheon, the king was in the chamber when the issue of rulership of Northern Northumbria was discussed. This land had long been ruled by the Bamburgh family, with a line of earls going back to the time of Alfred the Great and beyond. Whilst there would hardly have been a person in the Chamber who was unaware of recent events, Chancellor Regenbald ran through the details to be entered into the written record being taken by several scribes. The appointment by King Edward of Earl Tostig, Harold’s brother, his rejection by the northerners due to his alleged depredations, his subsequent revolt and dispossession which led to the Norwegian