Winter of Discontent

conflagration will burn down the house. At the moment the tar is heating and starting to bubble.” He took a gulp of ale and continued. “Talking about tar, I met a Norwegian merchant when I was in Bordeaux. He told me that last month he tried to buy Stockholm tar in Denmark. None was available for love or money. The Danes had bought every barrel available.” Bjorn noticed the frown and look of incomprehension on Alan’s face. With a sigh he continued, “It’s easy to see you aren’t a sailor, boy. The Danes have suddenly decided to refit their fleet. All of the ships at the same time. The captains of their longboats are all very independent-minded men. Why would they all decide to do that at the same time?”

Bjorn indicated to the servant to bring him another quart of ale and wiped the froth from his moustache. “That made my arse itch, so I called in at several French ports on the way back, instead of seeking a quick trip. That’s why I ran into problems off Penmark Rocks, being outward bound from Nantes. I met a ship captain from Haarlem, in North Holland, in a tavern. After I’d poured a few drinks into him, he told me that word was out in the Baltic for the ships to avoid the east coast of England this summer. The word is being passed by the Danes to those who are their friends.” By now the light of understanding had dawned in Alan’s eyes. Bjorn nodded. “The Danes are coming this summer, and in force. Perhaps as many as a hundred or more ships. I’d suggest you look to your defenses in Essex, boy. And stop having Birgitta and Stormsvale sailing into Colchester and Ipswich if you don’t want them sunk.”

It was typical of their differing areas of responsibility that Alan and Anne had different immediate concerns at this news. Alan’s thoughts turned to what would need to be done to protect his estates from attack. Anne considered how best to re-arrange the mercantile business to minimise any loss and to perhaps reap some profit. After discussion with Bjorn it was agreed that Birgitta, which plied the route from Ipswich to Narvik in Norway, taking copper, tin and cloth north to trade for whale oil, Stockholm tar and herrings (the fish being dried, salted, smoked or pickled) cease that route immediately. A disruption of the trade across the North Sea would mean higher prices for these goods in both directions, but only if they could be safely transported.

Bjorn suggested that one ship travel between Narvik and Flanders. Anne suggested Rotterdam or Haarlem, but Bjorn had advised that they were too far north and too close to the route that the Danes would take to raid England. He suggested instead Oostend, a small port town in northern Flanders. His reasoning was that the Danes were always raiding the East Baltic and if they were also to start large-scale raiding on England that they wouldn’t seek conflict with other countries. After all, they had to have somebody to trade with. He was sure that trade between Norway and Flanders would be left alone. The goods could then be carried across the channel from Oostend to London, a distance of about eighty miles by a second ship. Stormsvale was currently undertaking the Haarlem-Colchester-London route and could easily enough ply between Oostend and London, probably undertaking three voyages for each one that the other ships in the fleet undertook. With a crew composed of Norwegians and Flemings, whatever ship undertook the northern route could masquerade as belonging to either country, with probably Norway being the favoured choice. But that ship could not be Birgitta as she was well-known in the North Sea as being English. After discussion it was agreed that Zeelandt would sail under Bjorn between Narvik and Oostend, Stormsvale between Oostend and London and Birgitta between London and Bordeaux. The ballista would be removed from Zeelandt and placed on Birgitta. Bjorn would rely on bluff and pretence, rather than force.

“Is London safe?” asked Alan.

“From the Danes?” asked Bjorn, his forehead creased with thought. “No. England has no navy and nothing to stop the Danes from raiding where they wish. You’re right, they will probably raid London once, maybe twice, during the summer and take or burn every ship in the harbour. The city itself would be safe behind its walls, but your house here… Well, maybe it’s far enough away from the river. Considering that, it may be worth having Birgitta home-port at Southampton. That should be far enough away to be safe and it’s the closest port to the capital at Winchester, so the wine should sell easily enough. That spreads the risk to the ships as far as we can.”

After Bjorn had left Alan and Anne slipped quietly into the nursery to see baby Juliana. Alan smiled in satisfaction to see the chubby girl, now with auburn hair like her mother, fast asleep and sucking her thumb.

The next day, Holy Saturday, was supposedly a day of prayer, rest and reflection. However, Bjorn had told Alan and Anne that both Zeelandt and Stormsvale were in the port and intending to unload into the warehouse on Fish Street that day, so that the crews could enjoy the celebrations of Easter Week starting on Sunday. As Bjorn had put it, “Sailors aren’t much good at praying unless there’s a storm or pirates are coming up astern.”

Alan rose early and penned a letter to the Chancellor Herfast advising of what they had heard and their conclusions, well aware that management of intelligence information comprised putting together disparate pieces of information to form a picture. Leof was dispatched to deliver the letter to Herfast’s office at Westminster.

Later Alan and Anne strolled arm-in-arm through the relatively uncrowded city streets towards the docks near the bridge. The air near the docks was considerably less fetid that usual, with most of the noisome trades such as tanning and fulling being closed for the religious holiday period, and to walk past those workshops without breathing the stench of urine and faeces made a pleasant change. At the docks the usual smells of mud, rotting vegetation and piles of discarded refuse overpowered the clean scent of salt air.

Both Zeelandt and Stormsvale were alongside the dock, and with the tide being out the decks were much lower than the wharf. Both ships had windlasses standing on the wharf, being used to lift the barrels from the ships and onto heavy wagons standing nearby on the wharf, which were then trundled off to the nearby warehouse. The large tun casks, each of over 250 gallons, were winched up by the windlass, whose arm was then swung across to allow the cask to be placed onto a wagon. The wagon was then hauled away and at the warehouse it drew up alongside a ramp onto which the barrel was rolled and pushed down the ramp and into place in the storage areas. With only fifty casks per ship the unloading process would not take long, except for the few smaller casks of precious spices and olive oil carried by Zeelandt. Before sailing the ships would be loaded with other goods from the warehouse, mainly bales of cloth and iron-bound wooden crates containing ingots of copper and tin.

The captain of Stormsvale was provided with instructions to undertake a single voyage to Narvik. There he was to fill up with as much whale oil as possible, tar if it was again available, and return as quickly as he could. No space was to be wasted on herrings. Preserved fish of one type or another were always available from somewhere, but whale oil for lamps and tar for caulking ships could only come from the north. Anne was sure that within a few months the price for those commodities would be sky-high due to scarcity. Zeelandt would also head north for its next voyage. Anne’s Jewish business manager Jacob was present, Easter of course not having any significance to him. Anne sat with him in the small and dingy office at the warehouse and provided instructions as to the change of trade arrangements, and the change of crewing so that most of the Norwegian, Flemish and Dutch sailors were on Zeelandt, and for Jacob to take ship to Oostend to make arrangements there for the use of the facilities of that port instead of Haarlem.

When back at the house at Holebourn Bridge Alan and Anne ate a mid-day meal that was again simple and plain, and unusually sat alone instead of with several members of the household with them. The reason for that soon became obvious when Anne smiled quietly at her husband and said, “I haven’t had the opportunity to tell you of my own news. You are to be a father again in November.”

Alan had been taking a gulp of ale and nearly choked, spraying ale- but managing to turn his head to avoid hitting Anne. “Praise be to God!” he said, taking her hand across the table and kissing it.

“Hopefully a son this time,” added Anne.

Alan waved his free hand in a dismissive motion. “It matters little,” he said, although both knew that was not true. “As long as both you and the child are healthy. You know how delighted I am with Juliana.”

Anne smiled again in appreciation of the comment but knew that her main function in life was to produce at least two, preferably more, healthy boys as heirs. Girl children were only useful to built political relationships through marriage, and cost a significant amount in dowries.

After the Easter Vigil, the whole household attended the Easter Mass at St Edmund’s Church just outside