[Norman Conquest 02] Winter of Discontent (54 page)

Alan himself jumped over the side onto the dry sand at the ship’s bow and strolled the few paces into the town. Despite the early hour the festivities were already underway, with beasts being roasted over fires in the town square and food and drink stalls being set up. He walked into what appeared to be a disreputable tavern near the dock. The weather-beaten sign hanging over the door could hardly be made out to read ‘The Anchor’ and the peeling paint required a real effort of will
and some imagination
to discern the shape of an anch
or in the space above the name.

Walking through the door Alan was hit by a smell of sour beer, stale urine and rotten rushes. He stepped carefully to try to avoid pools of vomit and dog-turds that littered the floor.
D
im light filtered through the shuttered windows and fought bravely against the thick clinging smoke caused by a central hearth burning wet wood with no aperture in the ro
of to allow the smoke to escape.
Alan could
just
see a number of recumbent forms snoring. Most appeared to be Danes or local fishermen.

Seeing a man seated by himself at a table, wearing a leather jerkin and breeches and with a red
woollen
cap, Alan walked over and sat next to him. A young serving
-
wench appeared. About twelve or thirteen years of age, she was dirty with her filthy and ragged shift sufficiently open at the breasts to allow them to be clearly discernable. Presumably she was part of the fare on offer. “Another pint of ale,” instructed the man. As the girl left the man said
,
“I’m Eadmer. For Christ’s sake don’t order anything to eat or you’ll shit for a week. And don’t drink the ale. They keep it in an open barrel and I saw a dead rat floating in it. Just pour it on the floor inconspicuously.” The ale arrived and was ignored.

“I’m Alan.”

Eadmer grunted in acknowledgement. After coughing several times from the smoke catching his throat Alan looked closely at the man who was King William’s Chief Spy in the north. The man was typically non-descript. Middle height, medium weight, light brown hair, no beard but with several day’s stubble on his chin. And with the coldest and most calculating brown eyes that Alan had ever seen. This man would cut your throat without a second thought-
but only
if needed, as corpses tended to draw unwanted attention. Aware he was in the presence of a professional of considerable ability, Alan ran through the intended contact procedures but eschewed the comments made to Gundred about security as they would be an insult to this man. The contact arrangements were made for the same day as with Gundred but earlier in the day and at more seedy establishments. In accordance with his instructions from
Herfast
Alan said nothing about Gundred, as the sources of information were to be treated separately and the information from each used to determine the accuracy of the other.

“Good,” said Eadmer briefly. “
That all is s
imple, effective and allows for problems. I’ll still
also
use my usual communication methods
. T
hey’ll take longer
,
b
ut at least if your ship sink
s
in a storm the information will still get there.”

A man walked in through the tavern door and sidled up to the bar. After a glance at him Eadmer continued
,
“You’re clear. Nobody followed you.”

“Thank you. But please only have your men follow me in the short distance until we meet. I’m seeing other people who you’re not to know about.”

Eadmer paused and inclined his head in agreement. “Separate sources of information are a good idea. And that way if I’m compromised it won’t affect your other source. Professional? No? Well, bear
that
in mind in both your dealings here in Hartlepool and the accuracy of the information.” Eadmer then began to give a detailed run-down of English rebel forces and a slightly less detailed account of those of the Danes and the Scots. Alan occasionally asked him to pause so that he could fix details in his mind. There would be no
written notes that could potentially identify an important source. Alan had come to accept that in this very important but clandestine part of the war, that he and his men, together with Eadmer, Thorkell and Gundred, were all dispensable tools. But he was determined not to be dispensed with.

After quietly pouring away the last inch or so of ale in his leather pint jack onto the floor through a suitable gap in the poorly-constructed table, Alan gave Eadmer a nod and rose to leave.

He then spent the next two hours engaged in commerce. Despite the Quarter-Day holiday, a number of merchant’s shops were open, mainly Jews. Also open were the bakers, who worked every day of the year. Alan visited four bakers and bought virtually their whole stock of fresh bread and the pies that they
had
cooked as the ovens cooled. He also bought fifty pre-sewn but un-stuffed palliasses for the men to use as mattresses back in the cave, twenty bales of hay to stuff the mattresses, ten casks of ale, casks of smoked meat and fish, barrels of apples, sacks of dried vegetables and what little fresh fruit was available. Unfortunately the butchers were all closed for the holiday and he couldn’t obtain supplies of fresh meat.

He was back at the ship a little after the time he had
nominated
, but
nobody complained
as he was closely followed by carts bearing the purchases. All the crew were present, correct and reasonably sober- including Sven who had the drinking capacity of a camel. He’d spent the night at a tavern gleaning further scraps of information and was ‘bright eyed and bushy tailed’ when he appeared at the ship before the appointed time.

Heading south into a strong adverse wind,
Havørn
had to pull into the protection of a headland near Scarborough for the night, before continuing to row south next morning. Alan took several turns at the oars to show his ‘solidarity’ with the men. Sven didn’t bother as he had a different approach to leadership, and being receptive to every breath of wind or tug of current he minimised the work that the men had to undertake.

They arrived back at their cave at Flamborough Head a little after midday. Given the efforts that the men had made for the last day and a half Alan was prepared to give them a rest before they proceeded south to do the second part of their mission, to deliver the information they had received.

That evening, after the men had stuffed their palliases with straw, they enjoyed a meal of day-old bread with smoked ham, sausage, cheese, fresh fruit and boiled vegetables
.

*
 
*
 
*
*

Three weeks later Alan was getting fractious and regretting more than ever that he’d allowed himself into being coerced into providing military service above his legal requirement for the year
- and which had anyway been waived
. The information collection
procedures
w
ere
working well, with regular contact with Gundred and regular and detailed reports from Eadmer. The problem was that York remained in rebel Anglo-Danish hands and there was nobody
to
whom
t
hey could
pass
on
the information
received
. The king and his army had simply not appeared and from the little information available from the English and Danes in the taverns at York, it appeared as if there were no loyal
ist
forces closer than Lincoln. Alan disliked having to find out information about the
king’s
forces from the enemy, although the weekly visits to York appeared to be raising no suspicions as they were used as shopping expeditions to purchase extra supplies and they had apparently been accepted by the locals as being pirates, which was an acceptable occupation on the north-east coast.

“Damn it all, where are William and his men?” Alan demanded in frustration as he sat on a flat rock eating a breakfast of porridge sweetened with honey.

“Something important must have come up,” commented Sven easily, as he dipped a piece of stale bread into a cup of mead and then popped it into his mouth. “I don’t know why you’re complaining. This is a pretty easy way to spend a campaign. Permanent dry quarters.
Good and plentiful food. Two days
of
work a week for each ship, sailing up and down the coast to stop us getting bored.

Alan scowled at the accuracy of the complacent remark. Apart from the time actually spent ashore in the enemy-held towns there was little risk and life was easy
-
certainly much
easier
and less dangerous than being in an army on the march.
However,
he hated not knowing what was happening and was anxious to get back home to Thorrington where Anne would be nearing her time. After the problems with the last birth, where her life and that of the baby had only been saved by his intervention, he was determined to be home when her time came.

*
*
*
*

Two weeks later Alan sat at a table in the corner of the tap-room at the ‘Bull and Bear’ tavern at Hartlepool, sipping at a quart pot of ale. This was the
second
of
the
pre-arranged meeting times and places for the week for Gundred,
skald
Thorkell Skalleson’s woman. She hadn’t attended at
the previous
scheduled meeting,
and Brand had told him when he’d returned to the hide-out cave from his journey north the previous week that the woman had also missed those
two
meetings.
Until then t
he rendezvous system and exchange of information had proceeded well for six weeks, with Gundred making the short journey from Durham to Hartlepool at least weekly to meet with either Alan or Brand. Alan felt that her absence
for
over two weeks didn’t bode well for her, as with what she and her man were being paid to spy on the English earls and the Danes only serious illnes
s or worse would keep her away.

Skald
Thorkell Skalleson sat at table with the English earls and the Danish princes. The information that he had provided over the last few weeks, regarding the numbers and disposition of the rebels and the Danish invaders and the intentions of their leaders, had been sufficiently important that Alan was reluctant to simply drop the whole scheme. In war
time
information was priceless and frequently meant the difference between winning and losing. Alan glanced out of an open window and saw that full darkness had now arrived. Gundred was over two hours late and obviously not going to arrive now that the town gates were be
ing
closed. He’d been carefully paying attention to the others frequenting the tavern that evening and had noted with relief that, other than several whores, nobody was paying him any attention. Given the difficulties he’d had in obtaining refills for his ale pot, that
lack of attention
had included the slatternly serving-wench.

With a muttered oath he rose slightly unsteadily and made his way down to the harbour where the rowing
boat was waiting to take him back to the longship
Havørn
, which was moored
against the river bank
a mile upstream to keep the crew from getting into trouble. There he explained his concerns to Sven, the Norwegian captain.

Sven grunted an acknowledgement of the information imparted and after a long pause the taciturn Viking finally commented
,
“Why don’t you ask the other spy? You’re due to see him tomorrow. I’m sure that
word would get out
if the
skald
has been taken up for spying. Gundred may just be ill or have had an accident.” Alan nodded his agreement at this advice. Sven then continued
,
“By the way, I’ve arranged with Osbjorn’s steward for us to patrol to the south and receive regular supplies from the commissary, for both ships.”

Alan’s brain froze with amazement for several seconds before he could exclaim
,
“What in God’s name possessed you to do that? Why would you approach the local authorities when we’re spies?”

Sven snorted in derision. “Because
they’re
not stupid. A longship can slip in and out a few times without getting noticed, but one or the other of the ships are here nearly half the time. I told Henning that we camp up here because otherwise the crews get paralytic and start brawls, and it’s the only way to keep them under control. He can understand that. They knew we were here, but he just hadn’t got
ten
around to finding out who we were. Now he knows,
or thinks he does, he won’t cause any problems. We get five barrels of a
le, two barrels of ship-biscuit and
two bushels of dried beans
a day, and
two pounds of meat per man per day, for both ships. We have to buy our own fresh bread and fresh vegetables. We also get paid a shilling a week for each man. He didn’t want to be responsible to pay us, but I insisted. Now that he thinks he knows who we are, he’s happy as a pig in shit and will leave us alone. This week’s supplies are stored over there under that tarpaulin.”