London - Edward Rutherfurd [129]
Barnikel nodded. Much as he disliked the Norman, he could not deny that for ten years he had paid the agreed interest on the nail.
“For a long time I have wished to discharge this debt,” Silversleeves went on, “but the sum is large.” Barnikel glanced at him suspiciously. He had heard of the Norman’s tactic of forcing creditors to accept less than they were owed. To his surprise, Silversleeves continued blandly: “I believe, however, that if you could accept my offer, I am now in a position to repay the debt in full.” Raising his head, he smiled.
For a moment Barnikel was too stunned to react. The debt repaid in full? He thought of his embarrassing visit to the Jewry that autumn. So far even he, who would not have shrunk from any battle, had not summoned up the courage to go back there. “What did you have in mind?” he asked gruffly.
Silversleeves picked up a parchment from the floor and unrolled it on the table. “Something that might interest you,” he said. “An estate that has just come into my hands. You may know of it. It’s called Deeping.” Which surprised the Dane even more, as he did indeed know of the place.
It lay on the east coast about fifteen miles from the estates he himself had lost at the Conquest. Though he had not been there, he knew well that the land along that coastal strip was rich, and the Saxon charter before them indicated that, if anything, the estate might even be worth more than the debt he was owed.
“Please consider the matter at leisure if you wish,” Silversleeves said. “Though I have an agreement drawn up if you are interested.”
Barnikel, looking at him and then at the charter, heaved a sigh.
“I’ll take it,” he said.
It seemed that after all things were looking up.
Indeed, for Barnikel, in the year that followed the whole world became bathed in a new light. A dangerous light to be sure, but to the Dane each distant rumble, each faint flash upon the horizon, brought promise of the great conflagration for which his Viking soul was longing.
In the winter a great tax was raised. It fell heavily on London, but even in the countryside not a village was spared. Throughout 1084 the tension rose. Extra defences were prepared along the eastern coast. News came that the huge Danish fleet would be ready to sail by the next summer.
As the spring of 1085 began, word spread in London: “King William is bringing over an extra army of mercenaries from Normandy.” In the city, a curfew was strictly enforced. And on their walk one day, Hilda warned Barnikel: “Ralph is posting spies in every street.”
Which only made Barnikel relish the challenge all the more.
For when Alfred had declared that resistance to Norman rule was over, he had, in fact, been wrong. The Dane knew of fifty or sixty men who, if they thought there was a chance, would probably be ready to act. Some of these were men from Kent, where the greed of Odo had made the Norman rule unpopular; others were Danish merchants like himself who, since the Conquest, had been hit by the increasing influence of Continental merchants; others were dispossessed Saxons hoping to regain their lands.
It’s just a question of waiting until the time is ripe, Barnikel told himself with satisfaction. Then I’ll be ready.
The blow to these plans came in the month of May, from an unexpected quarter.
For Osric these were happy times. His first child was a healthy girl, who brought him great joy. Thanks to Alfred and his family, she never wanted for food or clothing. It seemed to him that only one thing was needed to complete his family happiness. “One day,” he said to Dorkes, “perhaps there will be a boy as well.”
In another way, the deepening political crisis in England also improved his life. With the work on the Tower progressing rapidly in its established routine, Ralph had become occupied with other duties for Mandeville, and his supervision of the work usually consisted of only a brief daily inspection. Labourers and masons went about their tasks with a sense