Sarum - Edward Rutherfurd [244]
As he considered the major landowners at Sarum, it seemed to Godefroi that the prospects were bleaker than ever. To the south, the huge estate at Downton, which stretched almost as close as Britford, was in the hands of another of the king’s brothers, the Bishop of Winchester, still furious that Stephen had not made him Archbishop of Canterbury, and dissatisfied with his position as papal legate.
“A born traitor,” Godefroi had told his wife. Of the other landowners, the abbesses of Wilton and Shaftesbury, who owned much of the land to the west, would probably be neutral; as to the local families like the Giffards, Marshalls and Dunstanvilles, he was not sure. But he was certain that William of Sarisberie would turn on Stephen if it suited him, and as for the bishop with his four castles, they were already prepared for war. It was said that recently the king, usually good-natured to a fault, had become morose and suspicious. He had cause.
But what should he do himself?
When he considered his feudal position, he could only shake his head irritably. It was complex. William of Sarisberie as a tenant-in-chief of the king, owed Stephen the service of a number of knights. In theory he in turn provided them by settling the required number of lesser nobles as his own sub-tenants, each on a parcel of land sufficiently large to represent a knight’s fee. But in practice, his land was instead split into many much smaller estates whose tenants might be due for only a quarter, a tenth, even a fortieth of a knight’s fee – which they usually paid to him in cash. Godefroi himself was such a tenant; but he was also a trained military knight and therefore one of those on whom William would certainly call for actual service – for which he would also be paid. So although his feudal duty was to serve his lord, he was in truth no more than a part-time mercenary. But what if he were asked to fight against the king? Where then did his duty lie? And what would be the safest course? He had turned the matter over countless times in his mind, and still he did not know the answer.
One thing he had decided, however.
He looked thoughtfully at the blue-eyed Saxon farmer.
“You have a kinsman in London, I think?”
“I have. He is a burgess.” John said it with pride. The free burgesses of London were already a force to be reckoned with.
The knight nodded.
“Good. I wish you to go with my wife and children to London and place them under his care. Will you do it?”
John blushed. It was an honour.
“Of course.”
“I am grateful to you,” Godefroi inclined his head gracefully.
John of Shockley guessed what this must mean. He wondered what news Godefroi might have.
“Will they,” he hesitated, “be there for long?”
“Perhaps.” It was clear the Norman did not wish to discuss it. “You’ll leave tomorrow.”
After John withdrew, Godefroi gazed thoughtfully about the room. His manor house was not large, but typical of the time. On the ground floor level, it consisted of a broad, vaulted undercroft, like a barn, with thick stone walls and pillars down the centre, which was used mainly for storage. Above this however, reached by an outside wooden staircase, were the living quarters. These consisted of a large, handsome hall that took up two thirds of the space, and divided from this by a heavy leather curtain was the solar, where the family’s sleeping quarters were partitioned by screens. There was a huge stone fireplace set in the wall of Godefroi’s hall, and on the north east corner of the building was a small garderobe tower where he kept his valuables. The windows of the upper rooms were large and fitted with panes of soft, potash glass – less durable than the soda glass of Roman times, but which shed a pleasant greenish light in the interior. The windows of the undercroft however were no more than narrow slits, in case the manor should ever need to be defended.
He was sitting at a large oak table. On the wall above him hung a wooden shield: on its red background was depicted an elegant white swan. The art of heraldry, just beginning,