[Norman Conquest 01] Wolves in Armour (34 page)

The choir of twenty monks were already present and singing a quiet plainchant when Alan and Anne took their places on a partly empty bench near the middle of the church. The prebend was standing to one side of the nave dressed in lavish vestments while the altar-boys lit the many candles on the well-appointed altar, and afterwards lit the incense in the censer. A light cloud of sweet-smelling smoke rose into the air. The service included High Mass in Latin and was simple and moving, Alan feeling both fervour and peace as he received the sacrament, looking up at the large carved gilded wooden figure of Christ Crucified positioned above the altar as he received the Host.

As they walked back into the town Alan nodded to the guards at the gate and received a similar acknowledgement. “We should go to confession while we’re here,” he said. “I find it hard to confess anything to Brother Godwine, who is a hypocrite who probably sins more than I do. If you can find out from your mother when Confession is heard at St. Stephens I can make an appointment. After the last few months I have quite a lot to confess and it’ll take a while. It’s hardly fair to the priest to do it during the normal confessional time.”

A pot full of night-soil thrown from an upper storey window narrowly missed them and as Alan looked up in anger he stepped in a pile of rotting vegetables, afterwards trying to clean his boot on the stone of the street gutter.

On the way back to Carr Street Alan called in at the ‘Fox’s Head’ inn to ensure that his men had found accommodation and were, within reasonable limits, behaving themselves. The ‘Fox’s Head’ was a lower class inn and catered for cheorls and soldiers, with adequate but plain food and with the guests sleeping on the floor of the Commons or in the dormitory upstairs.

Arriving back at Carr Street Alan left his shoes at the door with an instruction to Rinan to arrange for their cleaning. Inside Orvin and Lora were sitting down to a relatively simple meal of soup, beef stew with herbs and fresh fruit, washed down with ale, as Sunday was the cook’s day off. After the meal Lora, as a result of her early start of attending church services, retired upstairs to her bedroom for a nap and Alan learned that she and Orvin no longer shared a bedchamber.

Orvin took them to the room he used as an office. There was a large heavy wooden chest in the corner, a large table covered in pieces of parchment, with quills and an ink-pot and a jug of wine. Four chairs were placed around the table.

“Now, I believe in keeping accounts current,” said Orvin in a businesslike manner. “£327 less ten percent is £294 and eighty pennies. Will you want it in cash? One of the problems of trade in England is the only currency is pennies, and 70,640 pennies are a real nuisance to transport- you’ll need a wagon. I can arrange French gold marks if you prefer, but I get charged a half-percent discount by my money-man. Or I can arrange payment through the Jews.”

“Payment through the Jews? You mean you would borrow the money?” asked Alan in confusion.

“No, no! Most of my wealth is tied up in goods going from one place to another or sitting in warehouses. Cash causes problems because it’s hard to store, earns nothing while it is sitting there and is more easily stolen than say a ton of wool or cloth. I deal with several of the Jews here in Ipswich, and also in London and York, and lend them my spare cash. Where do you think they get the money to lend to gentiles? It’s from people like me. They pay me a modest rate of interest, fifteen percent a year, and charge a higher rate when they lend it out. They bear all the risks of non-payment by the borrower and the difficulty and cost of recovery if necessary. Of course you only do this with relatively small amounts such as your current amount, and usually spread it amongst several moneylenders. One of my moneylenders, Solomon, also has businesses in Colchester and London. He’s as honest as any of them- which means to say very honest. If you want some money in cash and the rest available for you to draw on whenever you need it, I can arrange that with him. That way you would only need to ride up to Colchester to pick up what money you need, or you can access your money here or in London. He also has contacts on the continent, but making money available overseas costs a five percent discount.”

“We probably only need say £50 in cash at Thorrington. If Solomon has say £50 at London, £100 at Colchester and the rest here at Ipswich, that should be adequate,” said Anne thoughtfully. “I can’t see us needing more than 1,000 shillings in cash.”

“Fine,” said Orvin. “I’ll take you to see Solomon tomorrow. He’s working today of course, but I keep the Sabbath, our Sabbath, whenever possible. Otherwise Lora gives me three kinds of hell. I’ll give Anne the names of several other Jews, so you don’t have ‘all your eggs in one basket’ if something goes wrong. Any investment, even putting the cash under the bed, carries some risk.

“Now what is this about the trading ships?” he asked as he poured each a cup of wine. Alan sipped in anticipation and was disappointed. Orvin smiled at his expression and commented, “You can’t have Bordeaux every day or you get spoiled. This is a cheap light red from Anjou.”

Anne replied, “Alan captured the longships after they had raided Colchester and had emptied the best of the items from the warehouses there. There’s no doubt that they, the trading ships and the cargo belongs to him by right of salvage- it was more than one day after they were stolen by the Danes. However, I thought it made sense to avoid potential claims by the former owners by disposing of both the ships and cargoes overseas as quickly as possible, before anybody except a few of Alan’s household knew about it.”

“That was sensible,” commented Orvin. He picked up several pieces of parchment and, not sure who to give them to, put them between Anne and Alan. “This is the inventory. May I congratulate you on your very significant wealth, assuming that the ships make harbour. This will make you one of the wealthiest merchants on the east coast. As instructed, my factors will sell the cargoes and ships, buy new ships and cargoes and choose the best crews they can, both from your existing crews and whoever else is available. There will be a substantial surplus in cash, because the items you are selling are very high-value, so you’ll need to think about what to do about that.”

After a pause he continued, “While there are always risks of pirates and storms, the best part of the shipping business is you never make less than thirty percent on the value of the cargo and there are no tithes and no geld to pay.”

“I’m not really comfortable about all this merchant business all of a sudden. I haven’t even got used to the idea of being a landowner yet! Also, you know that the nobles hate the merchant class. I can see now that it may because individually you merchants are at least as wealthy as the nobles, but have none of the responsibilities!” said Alan hesitantly.

“That’s no problem! Nobody needs to know about your business interests. You can use my business as a ‘front’ if you like. For a twenty percent commission,” replied Orvin.

“Ten,” said Anne firmly. “And I keep separate books, separate warehouses and ships. No intermixing of cargo.”

Orvin sighed at the way that his daughter was taking blatant advantage of him, and then asked, “Where do you intend to base? Ipswich is the main trading centre for the east coast between London and York.”

“Ipswich to start with, or possibly Colchester, although it’s just had its vulnerability pointed out,” replied Anne. “We may need a factor in London or at the capital at Winchester to handle some of the luxury goods.”

“I’m glad you didn’t say York. The Northerners area strange lot and still live by the Danelaw rather than the Laws of Wessex. I can see trouble brewing up there, and beyond.”

“I think I can do something about the vulnerability of our ships in and near Colchester,” said Alan thoughtfully. “Where are the ships usually attacked?”

“Usually near their home port. The people you are dealing with won’t attack your ships near their own lands, or on the way to or from, because they know that nobody would trade with them again. Ships are rarely found by pirates on the high seas. Whoever it is- the Danes, Norwegians, Irish, Flemings or French- come and seize the ships off our ports, where they are concentrated into a small area, or in particular areas such as near the Channel Islands. They leave their own trading ships alone, of course,” replied Orvin.

“The Normans don’t have a fleet. Would the merchants of Ipswich pay for a small fleet to protect the estuary area?” asked Alan.

“Why? That is what the geld is for,” replied Orvin.

“Yes, but you just said that the merchants aren’t paying any geld, other than what is levied on the city,” said Alan sarcastically.

Orvin laughed. “Yes, you’re right. I did say that. How big a fleet do you envisage?”

“I thought four or five ships.”

“I don’t think that would be enough to discourage anything more than individual pirate boats. With those numbers you’d have only one or at most two ships at sea at any time. Any organised expedition is usually five or six ships packed with Danes, and they are very good sailors and fighters. The ships you took from them you seized on land or by surprise. Coming on them on the open sea would be another matter altogether,” said Orvin discouragingly.

“I’ll perhaps have a trial run at Colchester, based at Point Clear just opposite Brightlingsea, and see if my ideas work out. I’m thinking of using a ballista and fire arrows on each of my boats. Can you find me fifty sailors who have guts and fire in them? Particularly say five men who would make good and reliable skippers?”

Orvin shrugged his scrawny shoulders and replied, “I don’t see why not. The going pay rate for a coastal sailor is half a shilling a week and a captain a shilling a week.”

“I’ll pay them twice that and provide each of them with accommodation when on shore,” said Alan.

“And I’ll need an honest warehouse overseer and a scrivener to keep the accounts,” added Anne.

Sunday was family day at the house and Garrett and Mae arrived at mid-afternoon with their three children aged from two to six, two girls and a boy. Betlic came back from playing at a friend’s house nearby. The whole group gathered in the small hall, the children playing in one corner, the women continued their talk about wedding preparations and the men sat by the window facing the street and talked politics. After a couple of cups of wine Garrett switched to ale and Alan followed suit. After a little while Anne came and sat quietly with them.

Today he was feeling less like an exhibit in a freak show and realised his prospective family were entitled to know more about their future in-law. He briefly discussed the problems of being the third son of a relatively impoverished Norman knight with little chance of advancement other than through the church, his joining the abbey at Rouen where the abbot owed his father a favour from the past and was prepared to take him without the usual payment, his studies in languages and medicine while at the abbey, subsequent expulsion and his training as a warrior, including the time at Angelo’s salle d’armes at Paris and eventual landing at Pevensey.

“Anne tells us that you are friends with King William,” commented Orvin quietly.

Alan laughed. “Hardly friends! We are acquainted and I have met him less than a dozen occasions. I saved his life at Hastings and loaned him my horse, which is the same one in your stable, so I suppose Odin is a hero of Normandy. Since then William has asked me my opinion on several issues, which he advice he’s nearly always chosen to ignore. But at least it’s good for him to hear different opinions from those of his barons. He did make me a member of the Curia Regis, his Council, but we’ve only met once since the coronation.”

“But you are a tenant-in-chief and hold directly from him, that’s quite an honour,” said Garrett.

“That’s true. It gives me considerable autonomy in that I have to answer only to one man- and to God. I can do what I feel appropriate unless the king orders me otherwise.”

“As your tenants and the thegns of the Hundred are nearly all English, and unlike most of your country-men you speak our language, you probably have a better understanding of England and the English than nearly anybody,” commented Orvin.

“Other than perhaps those Normans who have been here from the times of Edward the Confessor,” agreed Alan easily, taking another sip of beer.

“Perhaps William doesn’t understand how much some of what he is doing is antagonising the English,” continued Orvin, moving the conversation forward slowly. “The geld, what used to be called the Danegeld, was re-instituted this year for the first time since Edward abolished it in ’51. Even King Harold didn’t reintroduce it last year. And, although English lords and thegns have been permitted to keep their land, they’ve had to pay dearly for the privilege.”

“I agree with you. I advised him not to reintroduce the geld, or at least not at the former rate and particularly not in the same year that many English were being charged to pay the Heriot to redeem their land. In effect most English landholders have had to pay double and this has been beyond the capacity of many who as a result have had to take out loans. If they default on those loans then their land may be assumed by the men who loaned the money. That’s unless the lenders are Jews, of course, in which case they sell it.

“The point I tried to make in private with William is that he wasn’t king until Christmas Day and that there were legal and logical problems with claiming that any Englishman who didn’t support him from the death of the Confessor last January until the Coronation was a traitor and had to pay to redeem his lands. That also includes the Normans who came to England and were given lands in the Confessor’s reign.”