Sarum - Edward Rutherfurd [275]
The fulling mill was making its appearance in many places, especially in the west of the island. Though often resisted by the local fullers, who feared it might compete with their own traditional methods, it was a far more effective way of working on the heavier cloths. It looked exactly like a corn mill, the only difference as one drew closer being the rhythmic thump of the two heavy wooden hammers, and the pungent smell from the ammonia. Already, the Bishop of Winchester had set up such a mill on his nearby estate at Downton.
“There’s more cloth being made every year,” Shockley argued. “If we have a mill already operating, we can profit from this growth.”
All that he needed in order to do this was a parcel of land by the river at a spot where a mill race could easily be constructed, and a backer with sufficient capital resources to build the mill, or give security for the money that would be needed to do so. Naturally he had gone to Godefroi.
Under their agreement, Godefroi was borrowing the money for the mill from Aaron and would build it on the new estate he held as a tenant-in-chief and where he was free to do as he pleased without needing the permission of any superior landlord. Shockley, as the entrepreneur, in turn agreed to pay him half the receipts of the mill from all those who brought cloth to it from outside Godefroi’s estates, and all the receipts from Godefroi’s tenants and villeins – who would be compelled by the knight, as their feudal overlord, to use his mill. So Godefroi, using his ample lands as security for the loan, would add a valuable asset to his estate; and his feudal tenants would be compelled, indirectly, to increase his income. It was a combination of capitalism and feudalism that was typical of the times.
The building was not complicated, but solid stonework and carpentry would be required.
“Who will do the masonry?” Aaron enquired of Godefroi as they rode along.
“We’ve got a young fellow from my estate,” the knight replied, “who’s working in the town at the moment. He seems to be competent. His name’s Osmund.”
Aaron smiled.
“Cheaper than hiring a master mason you can’t trust,” he remarked.
“Exactly,” Godefroi agreed.
When, half an hour later, William atte Brigge saw the little cavalcade of Godefroi, Aaron of Wilton and the hated Shockleys coming down the street, he knew instinctively that he did not like it; and when the party paused, while Godefroi turned aside to speak with a merchant, he loped across the street and sidled up to Aaron. Neither man liked the other, but as they were neighbours at Wilton, both observed a guarded politeness.
“What’s up?” William asked. “Godefroi and Shockleys after money?” Aaron said nothing. “They in trouble?” he suggested hopefully.
“Not at all. A very good investment I think.” Briefly he outlined the plan for the fulling mill. “I’ve already helped finance two others in the west,” he added calmly.
But William’s face clouded. His mind was making connections rapidly. His wife’s loom, his sheep, the source of his miserable cloth, lay on Godefroi’s estate. That could mean only one thing. His suspicions were confirmed a moment later when he became aware of the knight’s horse with its enamel decorations looming over him and Godefroi staring down at him with undisguised contempt.
“Doesn’t your wife’s family weave cloth on my land?” he demanded curtly.
William nodded.
“Good. They’ll be fulling it at my mill shortly.” He nudged his horse forward and the cart bearing the Shockleys rumbled after him. William heard someone laugh; he did not know who. Nor did he look up to see.
So the cloth which he had fulled cheaply before in Wilton, the cloth from his own sheep, would now have to go to a mill run by the cursed Shockleys. He would have to pay them and Godefroi to ruin him. And there was nothing, absolutely nothing in the world that he could do about it.
Furiously he grabbed his cart and began to haul it away; but as he did so the accumulated insults of the day swelled in his mind until he could bear it no longer. Suddenly