“That would be too damned expensive,” said William. “50 ships at 30 or 40 men each is 2,000 men.”
“And the cost of the ships. Merchant ships are useless and we need longships, and the cost of swords and cross-bows,” agreed Alan. “Still, you’re receiving a lot in port taxes and the geld this year will bring in what…?50,000? More? The merchants can be levied to contribute to the cost.”
William scowled at being told how to spend his money and looked away. “Come, my dear. The servants are bringing out the food and setting up the tables and we’ve some others to talk to.”
Matilda smiled at Alan and Anne. “I look forward to having further discussions. And I’ve heard how wonderful your music soirees are, my dear,” patting Anne’s arm. She chatted with the other English ladies in Anglo-Saxon for several minutes, being of English descent she could speak the language fluently although with a Flemish accent, before allowing herself to be led away.
“How much would it cost?” asked Queen Edith with interest, also in Anglo-Saxon English.
“Probably?10,000 to buy the ships and weapons. That’s a once off expense that could probably be halved by having the ports contribute a certain number of ships each, together with those lords who have their demesne close to the sea. Many of the Norman lords donated substantial numbers of transport ships a couple of years ago. The ongoing cost would be less- 2,000 men at a shilling a week, say just over?5,000 a year.”
Edith reached out and patted Alan’s arm. “It’ll never happen, my dear man. The idea is good and the cost is modest- but William is a soldier not a sailor and he’s not used to living on an island. He has a continental frame of mind and doesn’t think in terms of protecting coastline or shipping. He’ll increase the town garrisons, even though that won’t work and will be just as expensive. It’s a good idea, though not likely to be adopted. Now shall we go and sit at table?”
The meal was a typical Norman feast, with fairly simple food and lots of it- heavy on boiled and roast meats and vegetables, beef, pork and chicken. Here at the table of one of the ‘high and mighty’ they had additional delicacies such as peafowl, duck, swan and venison, roasted or braised in broth. The food was relatively simply prepared and presented with a range of spiced or herbed sauces and gravies. At this table at least there were fine French wines from the Loire and Bordeaux, red and white, and the ever popular honeymede and ale. The men and women at Edith’s table were mainly English middle-level thegns, sheriffs, household officials and their wives, all known for their loyalty to King William. Apart from Alan there were also several other Normans including Roger Bigod and his wife Alice, William Peverel and his newly married wife Adelina of Lancaster, Bernard de Neufmarche and Aubrey de Vere.
“My lady, last time we spoke you mentioned you were considering leaving public life,” said Alice.
“That’s true,” replied Edith. “I’ve had enough of public life. I married Edward in ’45 and, apart from the year he forced me into a nunnery when he exiled my father, I had to deal with the tribulations of a husband who was a weak king and interested in little other than religion. Twenty years of a loveless marriage to a celibate man who hated me because of my father and what he did to Edward’s brother. I was willing enough, for the sake of the kingdom, but he would have none of it. A man with little interest in the kingdom he ruled, or its people. I did what I could to ensure proper rule. On Edward’s death my brother Harold was crowned, and within nine months he and three of my other brothers were dead. Last month my mother Gytha Thorkelsdottir, Godwin’s widow, encouraged the people to revolt, including my own town of Exeter.
“I’ve had enough and done enough! Godgifu is a friend of mine and is abbess at Wilton. I’ll take the veil and retire into a quiet and contemplative life in comfortable surroundings. I’ll bestow some of my lands on favoured servants, such as Azur here, and some on the abbey, while retaining a few to provide life’s comforts until I bequest them in my will- after all, I have no children. England needs only one queen, and that’s now Matilda,” she concluded.
“Perhaps if you left that decision for a little while, my lady,” suggested Alan. “Your intercession in the conflict at Exeter last month was important both for its people and the kingdom. Both the king and the people respect you. Difficult times lie ahead.”
At that Edith’s head jerked around and she looked Alan in the eyes. She nodded at the truth of what he said as she had her own sources of information as well. With a reluctant sigh she said, “You’re right. Perhaps a few more months, in addition to the past 22 years, should be easy enough compared to what I’ve endured in the past. Now, enough of these matters! Let’s listen to the music and talk of inconsequential things!” she commanded.
CHAPTER FIVE
London May 1068
Alan had arranged for his seneschal Robert to come to London from Herefordshire to report progress at Staunton and Alan’s other manors on the Welsh border. They met at the house at Holebourn Bridge, where Robert would be staying together with the four men who had ridden with him. He arrived in the late evening two days after the coronation, tired and dirty from the road.
After bathing and changing his clothes Robert met Alan and Anne in the Hall. The day was warm and the central fire wasn’t lit. Light streamed in through the rare and expensive glass windows. Sitting at the table Robert drained a quart of ale to settle the dust in his throat before switching to wine, a red of reasonable quality from the Loire. Alan had arranged for food to be placed on the table and Robert helped himself to first an apple and then fresh bread, butter and aged cheese. The evening meal would not be for another hour or so, but Robert was fatigued and hungry after his travel from Oxford that day, a distance of 60 miles, and the previous day of travel from Staunton to Oxford.
“So, how progress matters?” asked Alan.
“Reasonably well,” replied Robert. “The winter hasn’t been too severe on the border, not like I hear you had in Essex. That was fortunate, given the there was hardly any food and most of the houses were damaged. We’ve got the new Hall and stables completed. The men are sleeping in the Hall until the barracks is built. The trench for the fortifications has been started. Obviously the villagers have had to spend most of the last month ploughing and sowing.
“Because of the food situation Father Siward gave a dispensation from Lenten eating restrictions. People needed every morsel of food they could get from anywhere to avoid starving. The people have been taking fish from the river, as you allowed, and also the garrison has been hunting wild cattle, boar and deer in the forests for their own use and to provide to the villagers- so they didn’t have to poach. It’s no use forbidding what is going to happen anyway, as a man will do anything rather than see his family go hungry, but if we kill the game at least the villagers don’t get into the habit. That and the wagons of grain and flour that you provided from Gloucester kept the wolf of starvation from the door. The Welsh have been behaving themselves, at least in our area. I understand they’re still active up in the north. That’s given us the respite to survive and rebuild.”
“The bad news, I’m afraid,” announced Alan, “is that William fitzOsbern advised me that we’re required to do our knight’s service at Chester and support his expedition against the North Welsh in Rhufoniog and Rhos, in Gwynedd. I tried to get him to agree that our raid into Brycheiniog counted as our military service this year, but he wouldn’t have it. We’re required in Chester on 1st June.”
“That’s not fair!” exclaimed Anne.