“Thor’s balls! I haven’t had that for years! Drikke!” exclaimed Bjorn taking a deep pull that drained half of the cup at once. His face immediately turned red. Anne took a sip from her cup, blinked as tears appeared in her eyes and gave a small cough. “Good stuff!” continued Bjorn, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Alan hoped he wasn’t going to drink the whole jug, as even with Bjorn’s capacity it would put him into an alcoholic coma and he was due to sail next day. Bjorn filled his cup back to the brim, offered the jug to Alan and Anne, both of whom shook their heads, and to Alan’s surprise he then put the stopper back into the crock and placed it firmly on the table out of his own reach. Clearly he had drunk Aqua Vitae previously and respected the fierce spirit.
“How went the journey to Aquitaine?” asked Anne.
“Well enough,” replied Bjorn. “It was a little stormy on the way there, and the return took longer than I’d like. We were stuck in Lorient for over a week waiting for the wind so we could get around Finistere. Your Factor in Bordeaux is doing a good job. He’s importing spices and other luxury goods directly from the Moors. There are five-pound sacks of grains of paradise, saffron, ginger and cumin. There’s turmeric from further east for curries, together with black pepper, cinnamon and cassia. Nutmeg and mace. Damned expensive stuff. Costs nearly the same as gold, but that is the Factor’s worry not mine. I’m just transport. Not to worry! I store them ‘high and dry’.”
“Some of them are actually worth more than gold, particularly the saffron,” said Anne in a quiet voice.
“Do you know, we actually ate gold at a party last year,” commented Alan. “One of the dishes of food was gilded with gold leaf. How stupid can you be, to be that ostentatious just to impress people with how rich you are? It’s not as if it has any flavour.”
Bjorn shook his head in amasement at the antics of the nobles. “Just give me a good smoked pork hock to chew and a jug of the Aqua Vitae!” he replied.
“Any problems with pirates?” asked Anne.
Bjorn waved a dismissive hand. “No. After we sank that one last year using the big cross-bow and the fire-arrow, when they come out from Brest, Guernsey or Alderney they take one look at us, recognise who we are and 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.