“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 be very frustrating for him as he’s a man who likes to be in control of events, not to be reacting to them. The deteriorating situation in Maine is potentially very damaging, particularly when combined with the activities of Fulk in Anjou. The king is rushing around putting out brush-fires everywhere.
In a change of topic Alan asked Herfast, “You know, one thing that has had me puzzled for years is why Harold fought the way he did at Hastings. Do you know? Was it because of the pope’s anathema and threat of excommunication of any who opposed William? He could have waited another week and raised an extra 10,000 men from the shires that were further away and had Morcar and Edwin provide men from the north. Then, when he did set up at Hastings, it was like his men had taken root. No movement and no maneuver at all.”
Regenbald gave a laugh of genuine amusement. “To answer the first part of the question, you obviously didn’t know Harold and clearly still don’t understand the English- both those of the south and of the north. Neither he nor his men would have cared much about Pope Alexander deciding to favour William without his even hearing Harold’s side of the argument. That was an interesting piece of political skullduggery in itself that may yet come back to haunt William, which I’ll go into in a minute. Harold beat the Norwegians at Stamford Bridge because he moved quickly and took them by surprise, even though they outnumbered him. Again, he didn’t wait to muster his full strength nor did he wait for Morcar and Edwin to bring those of their men who had survived the battle at Fulford Gate. He gathered what men he could on the ride to the north, plus his own huscarles of course. He just went at them like a bull at a gate, killed Harald Hardrada and his own brother Tostig and the forces they had with them that morning, and then beat the Norwegians who came up from the ships- effectively he had two battles that day. Then Harold and his men were celebrating their victory when news of William’s landing arrived.
“He and his remaining thegns and huscarles took horse south to London and left the infantry to straggle down as best they could. I was in London and helped to send out the calls to the thegns and fyrd of the south to rally. It was then, in London, that we heard about the anathema from that French monk that William used as a messenger. It was quite interesting and humorous, the messages and taunts that Harold and William sent back and forth over those few days. They were like two young boys arguing over a toy, with insults and threats. Gyrth was more concerned about the pope than Harold was, and offered to lead the army to avoid the risk that his brother would be excommunicated. Harold wasn’t too bothered as he knew that whoever won the battle would have the last say with the pope. Remember that Archbishop Stigand has been under anathema and excommunicated since 1052, by five successive popes, and that didn’t stop even the pious King Edward keeping him in the position as the most senior prelate in the country- or King William for that matter. It just meant that, to be safe, Harold had Ealdred of York place the crown on his head at his coronation, rather than Stigand- as did William.