When they had discussed the escort in the privacy of their chamber Alan had thought that half a dozen men would be more than adequate and a dozen was ostentatious. He had quickly changed his mind with Anne’s reply. “It’s not for going there, or for us at all really. Father will no doubt have sold the cargo of the first two longboats, as I instructed him. As the Danes took the best of what was available in the warehouses at Colchester, I doubt very much whether the value would have been less than?100 per boat. For the two boats that is 2,000 shillings or 24,000 silver pennies. You can’t hide that in your pocket. We’ll be a tempting target on the way back.” Alan had to admit that there was little that Anne did that was not well thought out and logical.
Her dress for the journey was an example of this thoughtfulness. She wore a broad-brimmed hat and a long-sleeved blouse, both to keep off the hot sun and preserve her fair complexion. Innovatively, she wore a pair of men’s trews covered, in the main, by a loose skirt that had been slit at the front and back, as she was determined not to ride side-saddle for 28 miles.
They paused at Manningtree after a ride of a little over an hour to rest the horses, stretch their legs and have something to eat before crossing the river on the wooden bridge, paying the pontage fee as they did so. The rutted dirt road wound through field and meadow, but the land was mainly large tracts of forest or unused ‘waste’. They pressed on to Ipswich, arriving — in Anne’s case quite sore- as the priory bells were ringing for Sext at mid-day.
They passed over the wooden Stoke Bridge and approached the South Gate in the city stone wall, the water-mill on their right clanking and grinding. The gates were attended by two guards who looked closely at the armed party as they rode past. Passing St. Peter’s Church, they took the main thoroughfare up Brook Street, passed the small church of St. Stephen and continued until they reached Carr Street, where Anne’s family had a large house and a nearby warehouse at Cornhill. Anne had sent a message several days before with a carter, and so they were expected- although the size of the escort surprised the elderly porter, Rinan. At Anne’s suggestion Alan sent the men to the ‘Fox’s Head’ inn at nearby Tavern Street.
Odin, Anne’s white palfrey Misty and the four sumpter horses were taken by a stable-lad to the stables at the rear of the building. The porter summoned a servant to carry the saddle-bags and cases to the guest rooms. Attracted by the commotion an elegantly dressed good-looking woman of about 35 with red hair appeared at the doorway to the vestibule. Anne threw decorum aside and with a cry of “Mother!” rushed up to embrace and kiss the older woman. After a few moments of mutual hugs and laughs Lora, Anne’s mother, held her daughter at arm’s length to look closely at her.
“You look well, better than last we saw you! But what on earth are you wearing?” Turning to inspect Alan, looking up as he was more than a head taller than she, she took in his rich but travelled-stained clothes of sombre hue and the sword at his waist, she asked, “And who is this gentleman?”
“Mother, may I present Sir Alan of Thorrington. Sir Alan, may I present Lora Agustdottir, my mother. Mother, I assume father is still at the warehouse?” Alan bent to kiss Lora’s soft small hand, murmuring a greeting.
“Yes, and Beltic is still at the Holy Trinity Priory school. I’ll send a messenger to Garrett and Ellette, Mae and Raedwald to let them know you’re here, and get the cook to prepare a suitable welcome home meal. Now will Sir Alan be staying with us?”
“Certainly, mother. You need prepare only one guest room, and please have Rinan send the baggage up and prepare a bath, so we can wash off the dirt of the road,” replied Anne in an off-hand manner. Alan managed to keep a straight face about what had obviously been a piece of mischief on the part of Anne to shock her mother.
Lora frowned and pursed her lips but held her obvious disapproval in check. After all, her daughter was seventeen, a widow and the holder of a substantial estate- and her paramour did not from his appearance look as if he was a person who was ‘gold digging’. With a nod of instruction to Rinan, Lora led the way through the doorway into the main part of the house and indicated a wooden staircase to the right “Your usual room, dear. I’ll let your father know that you’re here and have Rinan tell you when he arrives. We’ll dine an hour after the bell for Vespers.”
Anne first showed Alan the location of the privy, which they used in turn, before they proceeded upstairs. The bed in the room was just large enough for two, and trusting in Rinan’s discretion they ignored the tap on the door that came an hour later until they had finished their personal business. Anne dressed elegantly in a dark-blue dress heavy with embroidery and wore much of her jewellery, and also of course her dress seax knife that proclaimed her status as a freewoman. With the warm weather and anticipating a warm room for the dinner, Alan wore a simple tunic and hose of understated and elegant black silk embroidered with silver, black boots, his gold signet ring and an undecorated bone-handled knife at his belt.
As they entered the Hall Lora looked up from her chair and frowned when she saw the tell-tale flush on Anne’s cheeks, while Orvin, a small and thin man of about 40 with sparse blonde hair and dressed in a tunic of heavy yellow velvet stepped up to Alan and looked up at him closely as they grasped forearms. “Welcome to our home,” he said in a surprisingly deep voice. “I trust that Anne has made you comfortable?”
“Most comfortable, thank you,” replied Alan, unable to keep a slight smirk off his face. Anne gave a big grin and Orvin blushed a little at the double-entendre.
“A glass of Bordeaux?” Orvin asked to cover his confusion. Alan accepted, as did Anne. Alan declined the offer of water in the wine. The wine was poured from a glass decanter into a set of obviously expensive imported coloured glass goblets. Alan and Anne sat next to each other on a padded leather settee, Anne capturing Alan’s hand to hold ostentatiously. Alan sipped at the wine and closed his eyes in delight.
“Liquid gold,” he breathed appreciatively. “That’s why I don’t like to water my wine.”
“And what do you do for a living, young man?” asked Orvin trying to get to the nub of the matter.
“Oh, I’m a simple soldier,” replied Alan blandly. Orvin looked at the expensive clothes and Alan’s relaxed and confident manner, and obviously took the comment with a large pinch of salt.
“Perhaps if we wait until the others arrive before you start dragging answers out of Alan,” suggested Anne. “It’ll save going over things twice or three times. Firstly, though, before the others arrive, did you get my letter and the six boats?”
“Yes, I did. I presume that will be part of what we discuss later,” began Orvin.
“Actually, it won’t. We can discuss that tomorrow in private. You did as I asked?”
“Yes, the cargo of the longboats was sold at the market here in Ipswich a few days ago and the longboats themselves are on the way to Trondheim to be sold to the Norwegians. Very good cargo it was too! We received excellent prices. The four trading cogs are on the way to various Baltic ports. It’s not the type of cargo we’re used to exporting. It’s all high class- French, Italian and Spanish goods, also with many items from the Levant. The first ship should be nearing Haarlem in the next day or so. But why sell the boats, and we could have got good prices for those cargoes here, so why export it?”
“Tomorrow,” promised Anne. “How much did you get for the longboats’ cargo?”
“?327. I’ll show you the inventories of all the ships at the warehouse tomorrow. And why only ten percent?” demanded Orvin.