Oh What Will You Give Me

By Mark Lind-Hanson

In Book Three of the Julian Plectrum Series, Julian gets The Fallen Lady tavern up onto her feet. Royalist retainers down from Devonshire take over Baron Anselm’s Trewidden castle in his absence, and impose oppressive taxes and fines upon the locals. Julian finds and brings to play a number of traveling minstrels, is host to inquisitional monks, the usurper nobles, and is forced into his own confrontation with authority over the true authorship of his Lay of Hotspur. Anselm’s untimely death ultimately forces Julian to consider the fate of the Welsh Rising in the face of the power of the Crown.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mark Lind-Hanson
• Release date: Jul 22, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311601186

Mark Lind-Hanson

Mark Lind-Hanson is a guitarist, songwriter, and composer, born in San Francisco, and lives somewhere in Silicon Valley.

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OH WHAT WILL YOU GIVE ME

by MARK LIND-HANSON

Book 3 of the JULIAN PLECTRUM series

copyright 2014 Mark Lind-Hanson

THIS IS THE SMASHWORDS EDITION

ISBN: 9781311601186

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

Cover design by Mark Lind-Hanson & Kevin Donohue

Cover art in public domain & used under fair use clause of US Copyright Act

No trees died in the production of this book, only electrons.

For K.Schwarz & Ms. Marilyn

Oh, what will you give me?

Say the sad bells of Ryhmney...

- Idris Davies

TABLE OF CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

GLOSSARY

INTRODUCTION

This book is the third and final book of the Julian Plectrum series. Originally I had thought to stop at just one book, but my interest in the characters and possibilities continued, and also, popularity with my subject as I serialized the content on my blog in some of the strangest places (like, Malaysia!) made me feel it might be worthwhile to keep creating. And so I found myself planning not just one sequel but, as you find it now, a trilogy. Book One dealt with Julian’s leaving home, and taking up the trade of a traveling minstrel. It also found him embroiled in a controversy over who had the right to earn money from performance of a traditional song, and of course the lynchpin event of Book One was the Battle of Shrewsbury, which Julian witnessed, and which left his brother Simon a near-cripple. Book Two dealt with Julian and his new wife Mary, his merchant friends Stephen and Roger and their travels to the market fair in Amiens France, where Julian met a distinguished fellow court minstrel, Abu al-Sayyad, who was traveling through Spain and France at the request of his Sultan. The book continues with Julian’s decision to open a tavern of his own, under the approval of his local lord, Baron Anselm of Newlyn, and ends with the opening of the tavern, The Fallen Lady. Book Three continues the story and travails of Julian and Mary in their new home in Penzance, Cornwall, and of the tavern, and of all of Julian’s friends and patrons.

A word perhaps might be said for some of the music which helped me in the hours I worked on these three books. The noteworthy major works I wish to mention are Rosenkranz Sonaten by Heinrich Ignaz Franz Biber, Consort Music by Thomas Lupo, Danse Royale by Ensemble Alcatraz, and Dreams by Gabor Szabo.

Much thanks are due again to my very special friends, Kevin Donohue, Marilyn Hoffman-Jones, Barry Jamison, Sally Pearson, Karen Schwartz, Rose Kascyki, and Kevin Shlosberg. As a matter of credit where credit is due I also wish to acknowledge the following books and their authors as contributing greatly to the creation of these books, my understanding of the era, and the particular politics of the Glyndwyr Rising: Life In Medieval Times, by Marjorie Rowling, a scholarly thesis by A. John Chapman/University of Southampton titled The Welsh Soldier 1283-1422, the Gutenberg Project’s EBook of Owen Glyndwr and the Last Struggle for Welsh Independence, by Arthur Granville Bradley, Kenneth Hodges’ Medieval Price List residing at www.ucdavis.edu, and Medieval Market Morality by James Davis.

CHAPTER 1

RUMORS AND RUMORS OF RUMORS

In the morning after Anselm and his party rode away for Wales, I walked along the beach again with my dog Panoptes. Between my wife and I, all we had together, were the business of keeping the inn, her proceeds from alemaking (which were modest, and just enough over breaking even on the cost of the ales), what our tavern guests wanted to pay me for singing to their tables ,usually well into the night (which was hardly much, unless our guests were traveling nobles- and even then, of course, I had to watch the songs I sang). And of course we earned some money off the food we sold and the wine, but these too were, like the ale, something of as much a service to the neighborhood as much as they were a luxury for those other travelers. We made about four shillings in as many days, usually.

Panoptes was greatly pleased, of course, that he had me walking unhorsed and not riding Magdalene as I usually did, and when I would, he would spend a lot of time running to keep up with her. But on foot he could trot along at his normal pace, and stop and tarry with crabs in the sand or other amusements. And I would pause and wait for him before we continued on. I would usually walk a half mile or so then turn around, come back and today was no different that way. I watched a while as he danced around Scupper the pelican, and Scupper spread his wings wide, in return which scared Panoptes into running to the door.

Things again yet felt different when I went in to the tavern and stopped in the back where Pamela and Deprez were buy making the day’s preparations. They were talking among themselves so I went out into the tavern’s hall. There was a table and long bench we had set up along the far wall, and there was a party of some seven men now sitting at it, and they were drinking pitchers of ale, an awaiting their nones meal. Two of them wore hats with long plumes in them- I recognized the coats of arms on their tunics as that of the house of Hugh De Courtenay. De Courtenay being the Duke of Devon, his castles Tiverton and Powderham were his strongholds. He had also been at the Christmas feast Anselm had held over the last winter. But this was not him, only two of his men. Three of the others were soldiers, men at arms, of some rank if not knights— and they were here with their pages.

Now I had been warned of the De Courtenay house, and of their allegiances to Henry IV and their interests in keeping Cornish tin a growing concern of profit to them. I went to their table to greet them.

Good sirs, I am the proprietor of this tavern, Julian Plectrum. Are you being well served?

Why, yes, kind innkeeper. We have made up our minds as for the food on which we shall sup, and that need not concern you. The man who had replied was obviously the senior among them.

Ah, but the happiness of each guest is my concern, good sirs. Tell me, what has brought you here?

We have heard how good the cooking is, Master Julian, and came to see for ourselves. We are here on our way to Trewidden. While Baron Anselm is off in Wales, the good Duke has assigned us with care of the tin carts and the import and exports.

It is a shame that Anselm cannot see to these things himself.

True that may be, but he owes his fief to our master, who in turn serves the king. And with this business in Wales being what it is, the King must of needs have his armories supplied. The Prince, you know cannot be everywhere. and our Duke Hugh has his assent in all these matters as need be refined.

Indeed. I kept what I was thinking beneath my brow.

Tell us, Master Julian, as you are a taverner, and this is your area of the land, what do people think here of this business with Wales?

This was a question I had rather he not have asked! For whatever I said next I must take care not to bring my own feelings out.

The people here? Well, of course, they are a bit surprised that Anselm rode off yesterday. There must be people at the castle who have a mind about this.

Yes, but we are not there yet, we were looking forward to finding out what the country people think.

I have not heard much, except for the talk there was last night.

Which was?

Like I said. People were surprised Anselm had gone riding off with his hundred men. And nobody, of course wants a war.

It is the Welsh who want war, my lad. Or they would not be at such odds.

Again I hardly knew what to say. Lest I betray my own sympathy, I said, I’m sure that Henry will put a stop to it all.

Oh, that he will, lad, that he will! And we will make sure of that.

The other men at the table with him made it clear that they were going to be taking up residence at Trewidden, and asked me if I were averse to sometimes sending some of my own cooking up on occasion.

Baron Anselm has a stable of cooks, who I am sure are now at your service...

‘Yes, sire Julian, added the first, But we desire your work."

"Well actually, my cook was one of Anselm’s..."

We will take what we like from whom we like to.

I had no reply to this. I only asked next what they were having, so that I might return to the kitchen and be certain my cooks would deal well with these important guests.

We would like to have two hens. We had heard you cook a good bird— that was the tale, anyway, and so that is what we have asked for.

Very well. I will see about getting it to you as soon as we can.

Hurrying back to the kitchen, and Pamela was quite upset.

Do you know who those men are, Julian?

I do now, yes.

What are we doing feeding those who are our enemies?

For now, as they will pay us, they are neither friend or foe. Just guests, and we must feed them.

Baron De Courtenay is one of the worst advocates against Wales and Glyndwyr! It galls me...

"While it galls me too, let me remind you, please, we need to keep our opinions under our hats. Anselm has gone off to fight for Henry— I watched the retinue leave yesterday. Anselm also is beholden to protect Henry, but he is all for us. But he cannot say this aloud either way. I know, I spoke to him the night we opened, and later, of this very matter. He cannot afford to be seen arguing against the king, you know? Were we in Chester, we might grumble louder, but as we are in Cornwall, and the domain of Courtenay, we had best mind how we speak or act."

It is repelling to me. I do not like it. Yes, we are baking their hens! Let them beware I do not spit upon one...

People of the future, whose who are not yet born. But the tale ought to be told, ought it not?

Don’t you dare, Pamela! Hold all such thought aside. Reserve these things for what you should do— you should write a history, of we the Cheshires during these times! You can hold your tongue, but hold not your pen.

Who will read what I might say?

Pamela nodded. I hoped I had planted a seed inside her mind, for I knew she was a well-schooled and clerked woman. And if the tale were told by a woman, no doubt, people of the future might have less reason to say that what she tell were tainted by some sense of loyalty- to someone other than Glyndwyr (or even Anselm.)

So how are those birds doing? I was determined they be free of Pamela’s spiteful spittle.

They are near half-done, Julian.

Good. I will go and tell them.

When I went back to their table, they were finishing one pitcher, and asking me to refill it. I nodded and bowed. Then the head of them asked me a question.

Master Julian, are you familiar with a mine-master by the name of Aleuderis Burian?

I am. He has dined here once or twice.

Good. When you see him again, we would like more information about his current plans. Whom he is shipping to, when, and much else. We would like you to report to us at Trewidden with what you learn. Next time.

I nodded. But being asked to carry tales back and forth, and to report on someone friendly with me (if not exactly friendly toward my friend Clarence!) was imposing. I was going to learn, however, more imposing things about these men of De Courtenay in the months to come.

Your hens are baking, sires, and they shall be ready in about another quarter hour. We are taking care to make them sumptuous for you.

Tha’s great! yelled one of the pages. And he slogged down the last of his ale and slammed the goblet down on the table. More ale!

I nodded, bowed, and left again, as I had already promised them more.

In the back, now it was Deprez who had reasons to grumble. I told him what they had told me about cooking for them.

If they want my cooking, he said then they can come here. Why should we send up to the castle? What is wrong with the castle’s cooks?

They said your reputation preceded you, Deprez. They had heard good things about us.

Fine. Second hand news, but they want to learn for themselves! Alright, I shall see fit to be sure these means gets the things they want. No questions, boss.

That he was as eager to please me as he had been to please Anselm was in my mind a good commendation for Deprez. Whatever had led him to fall out with the castle’s other cooks, at least he knew with me he had a good chance, as seen by what we had just discussed, to make a name for himself and make the Lady a name spoken up and down Cornwall, from Penwith to the Lizard.

The time passed, and then Pamela pulled the steaming birds from the spit, and unspitted them onto two large platters. We heaped around about them with boiled carrots and peppered it all. Pamela took one of the platters and I took the other, and we placed them on the table. Immediately I ran back and refilled their pitchers with ale.

The nobles and their party were soon indulging in the pleasures of their repast. Knives were out, and hands hungrily gobbled hunks of the hot chicken meat. The pages went at it with gusto, the nobles themselves took their time.

Now that I had that situation in control, I went out to the stable to check on the boy Will and the horses.

These are some fine horses, he told me. That party of nobles and knights have some fine horses.

‘You are dealing with them properly? Hay and water? And all to their own stalls."

Yes, Sire Julian. I have walked Magdalene too, but I will ride her for an hour next just as soon as I complete this chore.

Will was working with shovel and pitchfork to move the morning’s stall manure into a handcart, and that he would take to the fields and spread among our growing rye and wheat.

Be sure to leave a little for the garden, I reminded him.

He seemed to be doing well with it, so I now turned my attention to the inner house, and Mary, and our own concerns.

Mary was sitting in my music room, and cutting new cloth for more poppets.

Ah, my love how goes your day?

Disturbing. We have some riders eating at the tavern who are of the court of Duke De Courtenay. They want to enlist me as insurance against Anselm’s miner friends.

How so?

They would like me to report to them whatever passes for the topics of Aleuderis Burian and his conversation, should he come by our tavern for pleasure.

I wonder the reasons?

I do not. They are trying to assure the Duke, and by him, the King, that the Cornish tin interests do not slide over to side with Wales. The king, you see, needs armor for his knights, and Aleuderis has the biggest going concerns. I do not desire to be their spy.

Then what will you do?

Play along, of course! Do you know, that while Anselm is gone to the war, that they have taken his castle, and will run it in the place of him?

That can only mean discomfort.

Yes, it will, not only for us, for we are now ever yet closer to the ones who would have us lose. No, but it will also mean worse for our neighbors. The tithes and taxes will probably only increase now. Anselm was known for his generosity. De Courtenay is just as renowned ,for just the opposite. I would hope Anselm makes it back for this Christmas, of course. If he does not, it is likely there will be no work for us there, this year, anyway.

I think we should just stick to our own business. If this miner comes to dine with us, we should take care to be kindly with him. Perhaps you might even—

Yes, I thought of that. Perhaps I should tell him how they plan to use me. That will allow he and I to work around the problem they present.

In any case, I was suggesting, we should keep to our own business and not be meddling much with the affairs of the high minded.

Precisely. I hope to work on those upon whom we depend, and make The Lady my only real interest, over summer. And we have yet to return ourselves to Cheshire.

I hope that we will find things there to our liking

And likely we will not. But let us leave that aside. There are yet June and July to spend here before Stephen calls me to the harvest.

I do miss Father and Mother.

I too miss my brother— some. It is to his advantage I return to see how well he has healed. and my father— I do hope keeping his tongue has helped him keep his head! He would not do so well in these parts, as he does around Upton. He does have his opinions.

"Well, it