Winter of Discontent

of clear land, mainly where wooden buildings had been destroyed by fire and the ruins demolished.

Alan always felt almost claustrophobic in the narrow streets, hemmed in by a mass of humanity and hardly able to see the sky. Whether he found the noise or the smells of the city more offensive was a moot point. There was a constant hubbub of noise. Costermongers, stall-holders and touts shouted their wares or services. Beggars stood or sat at busy corners displaying sores and missing or deformed limbs and crying for alms. Gangs of street urchins called and shouted as they ran through the alleys and side-streets. The bellow of oxen; braying of donkeys; the whinnying of horses pulling wagons; the creak and rattle of cartwheels; the clang of church bells from a myriad of churches, many ringing in isolation as their priests and congregations chose to interpret time slightly differently to that announced by the bells of St Paul’s Cathedral when they announced the Vespers service.

Whilst the noise was almost constant, the smells varied. Always present was the smell of unwashed bodies, rotting household rubbish thrown onto the street and human and animal excrement. On passing premises occupied by fullers, tanners or dyers the particular stenches of their occupations became dominant, principally the smell of urine or animal faeces. At the Chepe markets were the smells of rotting fish and vegetables, blood and offal. The road passed north of the square where St Paul’s Cathedral stood, but the spires of the church and the looming bulk of Montfichet Tower and Baynard’s Castle could be glimpsed through gaps in the buildings. Having passed through the city they eventually exited the walls at Newgate, crossed the wooden bridge over the Holebourn stream and a few minutes later were at their London house in Holebourn.

The party dismounted in the yard and stood stretching tired and aching limbs. The stable-boy Tiw hurried out. From his red eyes Alan could tell that the young lad had obviously been crying, but he appeared beside himself at the opportunity to care for the horses of the traveling party. A slightly-built woman of medium height with long black hair, well dressed in an ankle-length gown of brown wool with an embroidered hem, stepped out of the doorway and gave a grave nod of welcome. This was Jemima, Jacob’s wife, who Alan and Anne had met only twice previously. Next to her stood a middle-aged man, by his dress also Jewish. Two burly Englishman also appeared, and then the cook Wilda peered through the doorway.

“Good evening,” said Jemima in her quiet voice. “Welcome to your home. I’ll send somebody to fetch Jacob. This is Tomer, my brother-in-law. You two men, help Tiw with the horses.”

Once inside they saw the maid Aidith, who gave a quick curtsey and disappeared into the Buttery to fetch jugs of ale and food for the weary travelers.

The ten men-at-arms, led by Edric, sat at one table in the Hall, while Alan, Anne and Osmund sat at another and Alan gestured for Jemima and Tomer to be seated. The servants who had traveled from Essex, including Bisgu the wet-nurse who was holding baby Juliana, sat at a third table.

Without being asked Jemima said, “Three days ago, in the evening after dark, a group of thugs forced their way into the house. Aitkin and Aidith were inside. Wilda was in the town and Tiw was sleeping in the stables. They ransacked the house for valuables. Aitkin gave them what money you had left in his care, but they were unsatisfied. They raped Aidith, and when he tried to prevent that Aitkin was stabbed to death. Although she was beside herself with grief, Aidith sent Tiw to Newgate to raise the alarm with the guards and to tell Jacob about what had happened. With Aitkin dead she couldn’t think who else to tell. Jacob asked me to come and care for Aidith and arranged with Gareth for him to lend some men to provide security. Aidith, Wilda and myself tidied up the mess- there was quite a lot of breakage. It would appear that the thieves took about thirty shillings and some gold and silver items. They made quite a mess in the buttery, as they smashed the barrels of what wine and ale they couldn’t carry off and the room was awash.”

“Thank you for your assistance,” said Anne with genuine appreciation that the family of her Jewish business manager would put themselves out in such a way to be of assistance.

Just then a tall thin balding man with a ferret-face and wearing nondescript clothing slipped into the room. It was Gareth, Anne’s spy. Presumably he was trying to show his competence by arriving just after they had and without being summoned.

“Good,” said Anne. “You’ve saved me the trouble of sending for you. What happened?”

“A group of thugs from Chepeside appears to have singled out your house for some reason. Why I can’t say, as there be more worthwhile targets both inside and outside the city walls. I’ve identified who they are. Do you want to question them?” asked the spy in his deep gravelly voice.

“No,” replied Alan. “You ask them whether anybody put them up to this, and then dispose of them all. Make a point that my property and my people are to be left alone. That’ll be cheaper than providing guards here all the time.”

Gareth nodded his understanding of the instruction and rose to leave. “Thank you for your assistance,” said Anne.

“No problem, m’lady. It’ll be on this month’s bill I send to Jacob. I’ll get to work then! I’ll see you tomorrow evening.”

Shortly afterwards Wilda the cook emerged from the kitchen and whispered in the ears of the maids Synne and Esme. They left with some reluctance to assist with serving, as they were Anne’s personal maids and not serving-wenches. The hurriedly prepared meal of herbed mutton and vegetable stew with rye-bread was tasty, washed down with the ale that Jemima had bought from a local tavern and wine that Jacob had sent from the business warehouse. Afterwards, with a platter of dried fruit, cheeses and nuts on the table, Anne called in Wilda and spoke to her regarding who she could recommend as a new butler to run the household. After some thought she made several suggestions, which Osmund noted down for further action. Then, weary to the bone, Alan and Anne retired to the bedchamber upstairs.

Next morning Chancellor Regenbald proved that Gareth wasn’t the only person with a good spy network, as a message arrived quite early with an invitation for Alan to lunch with the Englishman at his chambers in Westminster.

The proximity of Westminster Palace was one of the reasons that Alan and Anne had chosen to buy a house outside the city walls and to the west of the city. Rather than bothering to undertake the tack-work required to ride the short distance, Alan chose to walk with two men-at-arms in company.

He was ushered into the Chancellor’s chambers, where Regenbald was sitting on a cushioned chair with his left leg raised and supported by a padded stool. With him was another man, elderly and plump with a hawk-like nose and wearing clerical garb. Regenbald waved Alan to a seat, as he carefully placed a cup of wine on the small table next to him. “Sorry not to greet you properly. Gout!” he said indicating his foot. “Congratulations on your martial efforts this year. William fitzOsbern was impressed- and with his experience and ability he’s not a man who is easily impressed. Firstly, let me introduce Herfast, who is replacing me as Chancellor in a few months. He’s a Norman monk, but not a bad fellow for all that! I invited him over to meet you and have the chance to have an informal chat with you as a member of the king’s Curia and a man with some interesting ideas and ideals, We can go into that shortly. I hear that you have had some problems with your town-house?”

“Yes, but hopefully those will be resolved today,” replied Alan.

Herfast nodded and said, “Yes, Master Gareth is a very capable man and I’m sure that you won’t have any further problems- at least from that gang. Do you think it was motivated by your political foes?”

Alan stroked his small neat beard thoughtfully. “No, I don’t think so. My relations with Bishop William, Earl Ralph and Engelric have improved and we seem to have reached a mutual ‘live and let live’ position without harassing each other. If it was politically motivated it would have been directed against me personally. I think it was just one of those things that happen, although I’m in a position to make sure it doesn’t happen twice!”

With a nod of understanding Herfast continued, “You’re probably right. I just wanted to express my sympathy and have a bit of a chat.”

“I hear that it’s been a busy summer for the king and fitzOsbern, but living out in the wilds we haven’t necessarily heard all that has been happening,” observed Alan.

“That’s true,” replied Herfast. “You know that Harold’s bastard sons raided Bristol and Somerset and were driven off back to Ireland, being opposed mainly by the local English fyrd. The Scots have been raiding Mercia and Northumbria in force. The Western Marches have seen raids by the Welsh and Eadric cild- not as bad as last year but still both destructive and distracting. The Northumbrians and Mercians continue to be a problem. Groups of armed men, who they are calling the ‘Wildmen’ or ‘Greenmen’, raid a few manors or villages and kill a few loyal men before disappearing back into the hills or forests when Earl William approaches. Hit and run tactics.

“So all in all, things are a mess at the moment and King William is running about like a blue-arsed fly. That’ll