Excerpt

Part of England was missing.

You have only yourself to blame, commented Osgod, my manservant and lifelong friend. He was getting in the first salvo of what figured to be a full scale, but good natured, assault.

Actually, I contended, Im just the most recent miscreant. The compilers of Domesday book were the first to blunder.

Possibly, came the reply, But King Henry cant punish them, while youre here and defenseless. Youd best resign and go into hiding. For a few marks Ill even give you a day before reporting what I know to the King.

Think again. Too much is not there for me to have acted alone, and Ill be happy to credit your help. Well just have to weasel out of this together.

For sure, but wouldnt things be simpler if you just located whats gone astray and put it back? I could even wait an extra day before disclosing your mismanagement.

Thank you kindly, but that sounds like too much work. Despite the pressure, I shall seek an easier solution.

Actually, keeping my discovery a secret until I figured out what to do would be simple. Despite his distaste for having a commoner Deputy, the Earl of Leicester was always ready to take advantage of the situation when it was convenient. The present was such a time. Wherever noblemen and clerks wished to be at Christmas, it wasnt Thorney-on-Thames, and I was the man required to remain at work for the duration. Even with Ozs harassment, that meant adequate time was available to shield my butt.

Yorkshir was big enough that nobody seemed to have noticed, but a careful perusal of Domesday left no room for doubt. North from the Sheave Fields, and east of Leeds, land holdings ended at the wildernesse. Although corresponding entries on the other sides of a rectangle of land in the west of York existed, things really werent matched. The wildernesse was longer from north to south than crossways, though distinctly wide enough that something more had to be there.

Having deflected Osgods attempted extortion, I adopted a policy that I had actually done something clever. Taking some constructive action seemed desirable, but the trouble was I only had the authority to require a Sheriff review the status of specific holdings. The Yorkshir wildernesse was a different matter altogether. It seemed best to bring my discovery to Earl Robert in the guise of some sort of opportunity, and to do it promptly upon his return.

Until then, of course, Oz wasnt finished, and had thought of something that almost sounded helpful. We were in my work room along the west wall of the palace, diagonally across the hall from the record storage area that housed the Domesday book. I had no place to hide.

By now you should be able to forge some charters and then discover that the holders are defunct. You would make England whole again and the problem disappears.

Good idea, but then where are the revenues?

Dont you know? Im surprised at you, Scribbler. Missing funds are a major failure. You will fall under suspicion immediately, and any explanation is replete with peril. Worse, blaming me wont work. Youll soon be a goner, so can I keep your second best cotte?

Certainly, but what if I do something other than create false documents? Allowing yourself to freeze while awaiting my downfall would be unbecoming, and I suggest you dont count on my cooperation.

Struth. Ive seen you maneuver out of worse situations already, and how could anyone doubt that more of the same is in the future. I need that cotte, why do you keep doing this to me?

Just being ornery, I confessed. But why the problem? I clearly remember you were paid once this year, and should have already dealt with someone more amenable.

Osgod gave me the kind of look that I deserved. We both knew his marriage to Swanney had rendered such criticism superficial. All was not wasted however, as our talk had given me an idea. I simply needed to report my finding to the Earl in terms of revenue enhancement. The King would certainly look upon the Chief Justiciars unearthing of a new source of funds with great pleasure. At the very least I would be buying time until a determination could be made of who or what was actually lurking in the wilds of York.

After midday, a messenger brought word that a nobleman from Normandy called Nicholas Jullouve had arrived at the White Tower in London with a problem concerning land. By now that had become uncommon, the civil war having ended some five years ago. Most of the claims to English land raised by residents of Normandy had arisen within the first two and twenty months of King Henrys reign. Still, all who served the King in this part of the realm knew that I remained the official contact for any such visitor. Earl Robert certainly wasnt at the beck and call of every noble complainant, but a knowledgeable Deputy was the perfect substitute.

For him, that is. I found these potential confrontations to be uniformly worrisome. Putting trepidation aside, I informed the messenger that I was available at the lords convenience here in Thorney Palace. (Did I mean my convenience? Bless that diplomacy.) Somewhat later, in our great hall, Jullouve proved to be a young, typically red haired Norman lord, formidable looking and dressed for battle. Two knights were with him, along with squires and other servants. Clearly, he was trying to establish his importance, which inevitably would necessitate an extra delay on the part of the Chief Justiciar. Given the present physical circumstances, that would not be the least bit difficult. With the exception of King Henry, Englands government was in awe of no man.

I was though, so I had some very careful pretending to accomplish.