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Ah, suspense! What portends this nightly waterfront rendezvous? Also, what did happen to Stigand in that fire?

Fine update, very well-paced; looking forward to more!
 
Ah, suspense! What portends this nightly waterfront rendezvous? Also, what did happen to Stigand in that fire?

Fine update, very well-paced; looking forward to more!
Thank you!
I had my plans for Stigand but I kind of neglected thinking about what happened to him in the fire, but:
If you wish to know what happened, please refer to Zechariah Chapter 3 and pay close attention to what a certain man upstairs calls Zerubbabel. Mystery!
 
taxrelief.jpg

Faversham,
Kent,
England,
7 April,
1067
Odo's thighs were already raw from riding and there was still a week left before Easter. William, growing fat and gouty on his nightly feasts had declared Easter Day as the day all the lords of England must pay the taxes from their estates and vassals, and so Odo was riding around his miserable, marshy and disloyal county to extract the feudal payments from the ungrateful peasants.
Truly, they were ungrateful. Who would be their lord if not Odo? Some Saxon lord who would randomly decapitate them with his axe? Or perhaps one of the cruel Norman knights who take everything then kill the peasants when they don't have any more to give? Or had Harald of Norway succeeded, the 'valorous' warriors of the North perhaps?

Odo, along with his young Saxon marshal Eadraed who had been brought along to ensure compliance on part of the Kentish peasants, sporting his sword, bloodied with the blood of the cows slaughtered for the previous night's feast, rode into Faversham looking rather dirty, not like the image of a lord impressive to his lowdown peasants. He drew a ragged breath and let out a hoarse shout of: "Faversham! Thy lord cometh! All your taxes are due now!" in his broken English. It did not have the desired effect as no one emerged to pay homage or taxes. Instead, all he heard was the ringing of two pathetic church bells. At first he thought that Eadraed had cut a rather fearsome figure by some unseen observer but his annoying cold intuition kicked in just in time to ruin his fun.
It was a Sunday, after all.

Odo then dismounted and called Eadraed over to the first house he saw. They forced the door open and rushed in. They were greeted by a grim-looking peasant who said: "And who are you?" which probably sounded braver than he felt. The peasant caught sight of Eadraed's sword and then knelt. From his prostrate position he said: "Lord, I would have given you your rightful due, but a higher authority has forbidden it."
Odo was curious. A higher authority? Perhaps even now a rider was coming to Dover Castle to announce his excommunication for violation of the Law of St. Paul? Although the Bishop of London had released him from his vows, communications were always slow when you needed a message to reach someone fast.
And so he inquired of the insolent peasant: "What authority could forbid you from paying your lord for the protection and bounty he gives you?"
The peasant got up and in a swagger said:" The rightful king who does not recognize your unlawful takeover of this county. Soon he, with his loyal troops and allies will return and take back what your precious bastard of a half-brother has stolen! And so I must not fund the enemies of the righteous party!"
Odo knew this wasn't good. If some claimant deposed William he would naturally take away all the lands William granted, and probably kill William and his family. Odo, after an internal shudder, drew Rèmede and decapitated the peasant, the head, still defiant falling onto the pathetic wooden floor. Odo shot a look that thinly veiled fear behind anger and said: "Let's be off. Next time we come, it is with an army."
And so they rode away, the people of Faversham never knowing their approaching doom...

Dover Castle,
England
8 April,
1067
"But I'm named for the town!" whined Joscelin de Faversham, lazy Chancellor of Kent.
Odo shook his head and sighed. "Joscelin," he said as if explaining to a frightened child that there is no monster under his bed, "that was a completely misjudged decision. Have you ever been to Faversham?"
Joscelin sniveled. "No."
Odo said: "Look, Eadraed is gathering our peasant levy. Faversham is a disloyal town and we don't need fools like you giving the impression that my authority is soft and may be defied by anyone. Perhaps, once we're finished, you would like to change your name to something better, perhaps de Canterbury?"
Joscelin didn't stop whining. "Odo, listen. If you destroy an entire town of seemingly innocent peasants how do you think your brother will react? You're destroying, what is ultimately, his property!"
Fear stabbed Odo again. What was it about weak men that allowed them to inspire fear in his heart? He mastered it again and shouted: "Listen here, you lily-livered spoiled coward! You do not address your lord by his first name as if he was an equal! And you will be killed by my hand if you do not stop this cowardice and weakness, I don't care how influential your father is! Do you understand? Do you???!"
Groveling, Joscelin nodded in assent.
But, as Odo turned to leave through the ornate door decorated with images of St. George slaying the dragon, he thought he heard a murmur of: "..Theling..."


Faversham,
14 April,
1067
Eadraed was full of resentment as his horse neighed when he came in sight of Faversham. It would be his first taste of true combat, not counting that fateful scuffle with the Count, and he was forced to spend his Easter Sunday on it. Behind him was not the most impressive fighting ever assembled in the history of Britain. Ranks of peasants, armed in many cases with not much more than pitchforks and clothed in their rough homespun were looking sourly at him. They, too, would have wanted to celebrate Easter at home with their family, but instead they were going to wipe out a village filled with their brethren and friends. Eadraed hardened his heart and drew his sword. "On!" he shouted, and the unwilling multitude poured in.
The streets were deserted. Presumably all the inhabitants of the village were at church for Easter Mass. In the meantime the assailants entered the houses and began ransacking them. Within minutes Faversham turned from a village to a site of chaos where the rather poor 'treasures' of the villagers were thrown around and damaged and some houses even collapsed. Soon, fires began spreading, and that was the signal to attack the church.
Some stayed behind or even fled, fearful of the hellfire awaiting those who violated God's house, but most were eager to loot some gold or were thirsty for some wine and women.

Odo entered the church of St. Edmund the Martyr with Rèmede drawn in his right hand. In the pews the Faversham villagers were kneeling when they saw him and his army.
A great cry at least equal to that of the plague-stricken Egyptians after the death of their firstborn went up, but it was no use.
The wrath of a wronged lord who was missing money owed to his liege and would probably be punished for failing to show up personally to pay his taxes (although Odo had sent Joscelin instead to get him out of the way) fell upon the poor people like the hammer of a blacksmith.
Very few survived.
church-burning1.jpg

************************************
When it was over, when the bodies of the Favershamites lay in bloody heaps on the pews, when the fire had consumed most of the wooden houses of the village, when the violated women and girls had been taken away along with surviving children, when what few earthly possession the villagers had had been looted, Odo knelt before the altar.
He knew the fire would be spreading to the church soon, but he had something to do before returning to Dover and sending some of the loot to placate William.
He wished he was still a bishop, but for now he thought God would accept his self-confession.
"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned...."
Although no one heard him but, perhaps, the ghosts of Faversham, he still quailed at the thought of what he had done.
When he rose, though, he caught sight of a piece of parchment. He picked it up, and read.
The first line horrified him.
In Nomine Morcarus Dux de Eoforwic et Nomine Edgarus Rectas Rex Anglii
Taking the parchment with him, he ran out of the church, sheathing bloody Rèmede.
He shouldn't have done so.
In the distance, he saw a flag that took him back exactly six months back....
wyvern.jpg


And far, far away, many miles away, a king was coming.
 
OOO God .Blood cowardise and treason ! It seems like the Middle Ages have revived totally here !
 
I had a feeling Ætheling had something to do with the beach encounter - hadn't suspected Morcar, though (which I guess was naïve considering the brothers Hwicce always rebel ;).)

Another heartily enjoyable installment.
 
Delightfully bloody, indeed. And some good inner monologues for Odo to show us what he is thinking!
 
ignoti_zpsf0d365de.jpg

Dover Castle
England
7 May,
1067
The first thing Odo knew of his brother's arrival was the stamping of many, many, horses. He was sitting at his desk in the upper study of Dover Castle at the time, studying a ledger in which were inscribed all the required tax payments of the Kentish taxpayers versus the actual payments made. Although he could have had his steward, Alain de Eu, who William had sent over as a way of discharging some debts he owed Alain, look over the ledger for tax evasions or inadequate payments, Odo disliked delegating work, especially this work which his time as a bishop had trained him for, because he feared that if he was dependent on others to do work then one day he would be left helpless.
Hearing the hooves stamping, Odo got up and looked out the castle window.
On the grass next to the castle, a small armed retinue of knights had parked their horses.
5065396935_f24730cd74_zps01c1cbe2.jpg

And in the center there was a figure Odo knew all too well even without the crown.
William de Normandie 'the Bastard' if you didn't know what was good for you, 'the Conqueror' if you did, King of England.

Odo cleared his throat, then boomed: "Welcome, sire! What brings you to my humble little fortification?" The false subordination was killing Odo from inside.
William looked at him then said with a threatening voice: "No need to toady, my rebellious little friend. What I want is not servility, but cold, hard cash."
Odo was panicky now. He knew he'd forgotten something, but in the haze of guilt over Faversham and auditing he'd forgotten to send all the cash he'd collected in the last month with Joscelin to William. Perhaps Joscelin had been punished for not bringing the full amount? The thought would have comforted Odo had he not been frantically searching for a serviceable excuse.
With no other options and with time running out, Odo knelt before his half-brother and lord and said in a toadying voice: "Forgive me, lord, but I have been so busy doing your work that I have not been able to send you the full payment due to you as my liege lord. I swear by God and all His saints and by the Holy Church that I shall send you any monies you are owed once I have finished verifying that all the taxpayers have paid their due amounts."

But Willliam was not to be mollified so easily. He drew his sword and barked: "Get up, whoremonger. What are your oaths worth if you can just hop over to your pal the Bishop of London to release you from them? Hand the money over now or this nice little piece of steel will have a bit of Norman blood to add to the Saxon!"
Odo was terrified for a moment, a moment of unending hysterical terror which no logic could cure, but it receded when he steeled himself. I am a trueborn lord while he is a bastard in both birth and conduct. I can handle this.
And so Odo came up with a rather simple plan. He drew back from William and his armed knights, and then shouted, casting away his fear on the wind that blew his hair: "Strike me down! Strike me down in this very moment! Wave that sword and part my head from my body! But be warned: I shall not die. Though you can slay my body, you cannot slay my spirit. If you do this then I will never leave you, until you are in Hell and I am in Heaven. It may not be so long as you think: What shall the people think of their king if he simply decapitates his lords for some trifling cash?"
Odo wished he had Rèmede with him to back up his tough words, or alternatively Broyeur to escape the consequences.
William lowered his sword, then looked thoughtful. It seemed an eternity as the king pondered the fate of his half-brother.
Then Odo watched as his lord sheathed his sword and said: "Very well. I accept your oath to pay me the remaining due monies as soon as possible, and I will withdraw.
But, there is another service I will require of you as a fine for late payment..."

Eoforwic,
England,
10 July,
1067

It never stopped raining in England, Odo reflected as he entered the capital of the northern part of England.
Broyeur's saddle had become wet and slippery but thankfully Odo was able to dismount at the gate and stable his long-serving horse.
He drew his little knife when he was well inside the city where once his Danish kinsfolk had ruled, which made him miss Rèmede.
But he could not afford to be seen with a full sword inside the city; A knife was alright because every man had a right to self-defense but a sword would be suspicious.
And the whole point of the mission was to be inconspicuous, or not suspicious.


He scanned the skyline of the city, and immediately locked on to his target: the Duke's Palace.
William had told him that he suspected that Morcar, Duke of Northumberland and lord of Eoforwic was plotting to bring over King Svend of Denmark (who as a descendant of Knut the Great had a claim to the English throne) or perhaps to rebel against William for his own independence. Either way, the consequences would be disastrous for him. He still woke up in a cold sweat some nights after a nightmare about Hastings, the face of one of those dirty Saxon peasants he killed swimming up to haunt him. Did he really want to go through a similar exprience less than a year after the battle in which his brother won England?
Having locked onto the palace, he walked in its direction, north.

At the palace gate he was stopped by a weary-looking guard. The result of a few too many at the tavern? Odo thought as he was checked for incriminating objects.
Tiredly, the guard waved him in.
Halling20Ruin201_zps4c0e84c7.jpg

A ruin from the Eoforwic National Park which may have been part of Morcar's palace
The palace was exceptional for what was still mostly Anglo-Saxon England. Instead of a pathetic wood and a bit of stone in the fort, such as Dover, the palace which was more like a castle at which Odo gazed jealously, was built entirely in stone in a Danish style. Moreover, it seemed quite new, the rain draining off the fresh stones.
Odo entered, and immediately encountered a situation of interest:
A red-haired man who looked somewhat familiar was talking to an armed huscarl. Odo's English had improved much in the last ten months since William had landed at Pevensea, and was able to catch the gist of the conversation:
"So when the beàcen is lit you bring the hus to Lindcylene where you will aid the Ealdhlàford Eadgar "
That was all Odo needed to hear. He rushed out of the castle while trying to remember why the red-haired man was familiar.
And then he remembered:
That man looked like Morcar!
He mounted Broyeur and rode madly south.
It was all he could do to prevent a bloody war.

A week later
Outside the village of Windsor
County of Middlesex
England
The air hung heavy over the English countryside with a hint of rain. A tired man was standing a few hundred paces away from the village of Windsor, waiting for the contact to emerge. He could not afford to be seen: he would be recognized immediately. Windsor had, after all, been on the Norman army's route from Hastings to London. The hint of rain became wet reality soon enough, making his unprotected hair and head slippery with water. He was miserable. It rained in Normandy sometimes, but not so much! Finally, the man he was waiting for came out of the village, the scent of alcohol from his breath tainting the clear smell of rain.
Good, thought the tired man, it is known that the inebriate's lips are loose.
He whispered:"So the mission is a success?"
The alcoholic whispered back: "Yes, my lord. He was completely fooled. I saw him riding madly south out of the city."
"Don't call me 'lord', you fool!" snapped the other man, "someone might hear and get interested!"
"Sauri" slurred back the inebriate.
The man who was called 'lord' asked: "So he will be here within two days, accounting for rests along the way?"
"Yas, ma laurd."
The 'laurd' was too tired to reprimand his contact again, and only produced some Norman coins from his pocket instead of drawing his sword as he would have done in other circumstances.
The inebriate collapsed on the floor nonetheless, and the 'lord' gave him a hard slap on the head to discourage any memory of this meeting.

And now it was time to go home; A certain Flemish lady was waiting for him in bed.

To be continued...
 
Well, the intrigue thickens, it would seem.

And I must commend Odo for having the balls to stand up to the Bastard - priest or not, there are some things the Lord cannot save you from. I fear a Norman's temper is one such thing :)