Iain Campbell

Wolves in Armour

NORMAN AND ANGLO-SAXON GLOSSARY

Ballista- a siege or field weapon of Roman design, shooting a bolt similar to a small spear.

Barrels- Firkin (ale), 9 gallons. Kilderkin, 18 gallons. Barrel, 36 gallons. Hogshead, 52 gallons. Tun, 256 gallons.

Bot- compensation payable under the West Saxon legal system.

Byrnie- a sleeveless waist-length vest of armour, usually chain mail.

Chain-mail- a series of round links joined together, each riveted to four others, which when made into sections were sewn onto a leather undergarment. This provided good protection against cuts and reasonable protection against thrusts or arrows. Hauberk and coif weighed about 40 pounds.

Charger- a large and strong horse used in battle.

Church Services- Matins midnight; Lauds dawn; Prime 6.00am; Terce 9.00am; Sext 12.00noon; Nones 3.00pm; Vespers 6.00pm; Compline Sunset. Hours varied depending on season (ie the length of the day). Used as a standard statement of a specific time (eg ‘an hour before Vespers’).

Coif- a piece of chain mail that covered the neck and head, leaving the face clear.

Cog- a smallish single-masted merchant vessel- the standard marine transport of the Middle Ages.

Curia Regis- the Council advising the Norman kings, successor to the Witenagemot.

Destrier- large French-bred trained warhorse.

Ealdor- English word for chief.

Fyrd- English militia comprised of freemen who were not professional fighters.

Gambeson- quilted padded jacket worn under armour, to absorb the force of a blow. Frequently used without over-armour by archers.

Gebur- Generic term for English freeman/freewoman.

Hackney- a medium sized multi-purpose horse, usually a cheaper horse of lesser quality.

Hauberk- a sleeved or partially-sleeved chain mail garment of mid-thigh to knee length.

Heriot- a fee payable to secure the right of succession to land under English law. Similar charge under Norman law was a Relief.

Hide- an area of measurement of land (similar sized parcels were called carucates in some shires) comprised of 4 virgates. A hide theoretically comprised 120 acres although this was somewhat variable. 100 hides made up the shire division of 100, although again this was not immutable.

Huscarle- professional English warrior.

Landboc- the book of ownership that proved ownership of the land.

Laen- a form of land ownership by long-term lease on varying conditions. Usually for life, or ‘for three lives’ (that of the recipient, his widow and heir).

Longbow- a bow of Welsh derivation made of yew wood in a way that made it a naturally composite bow, providing greater power. Depending on the size of the archer, the longbow was usually 5–6 feet long and fired an arrow 39 inches long- a ‘cloth yard’.

Money. English. Pounds, shillings and pence. A gold Mark (not English currency) equaled ?12, or 240 shillings. French. The same system. The denier equaled a penny, 12 deniers to the sou, 20 sous to the livre.

Onager- a simple catapult of Roman design throwing rocks around the size of a man’s head. Used as a siege weapon.

Palfrey- a smallish horse suitable for riding by women.

Pontage- toll fee payable to use a bridge.

Rouncey- an all-round horse, suitable for many uses including general riding and also as light cavalry.

Scale-armour- small plates, usually metal, sewn in an overlapping fashion onto a leather jacket. Provided reasonable protection at lower cost than chain mail, due to the lower labour content.

Seax- English fighting knife, usually large, worn by freemen and freewomen as a sign of their status.

Snekke- Norse word for the normal-sized longship. A fast and maneuverable warship 60 feet long by 9 feet wide with a crew of about fifty, usually with 10 oars a side. Powered by a large square sail or oars.

Tabula- Roman board game similar to Backgammon.

Taxes amp; Charges. Danegeld, English tax levied to bribe the Danes and Norwegians not to attack- levied at two shillings per hide of land prior to 1051. Corvee- unpaid labour provided in lieu of payment. Banalities, fees charged by a lord for use facilities such as a mill. Estovers (the fee for the right to gather wood). Pannage (fee for the right to have pigs eat the acorns in the local forest).

Wergild- The value placed on a life for compensation purposes in England. 200 shillings for a freeman or freewoman, 1,200 shillings for a thegn. No wergild was paid for death of a slave, but compensation of value of the slave was paid.

Witenagemot- Council advising the English king.

Other English words used in this book.

cifes — whore

cifesboren — bastard/ whoreson

galdricge — immodest

grim — fierce

herer?swa — commander

Hlaford — gentlemen

Horsbealdor — Horse-master

nydh?mestre — mistress

scamleast — enchantress

unfrod — inexperienced

unges?lig — accursed

ungleaw — stupid

wealh — foreigner

English social classes. Slaves (theows) at the bottom of the ladder, somewhat less than ten percent of the rural population. Freemen, known collectively as geburs, comprised, in ascending order cottars (who held a cottage from the laenholder or bokholder, in return for 1–2 days a week of labour, and usually worked for pay for the rest of the week). No right of occupation passed on the death of the cottar. Sokemen, held the right to farm collectively-owned village land, and usually also land in his own right, and able to sell or pass this to his family. Cheorls were usually moderately wealthy men with the right to farm a substantial amount of communal land and privately owned land. Owed the lord work-rent or paid cash for the ongoing right to use the privately owned land. Thegn- a man who usually owned his land owed military service for the land he held. Uniquely, a merchant who engaged in foreign trade could be deemed thegn-worthy (ie of equal social status as a thegn). Earl- holder of large parcels of land, usually geographically based, and who administered a geographical area. Equivalent to a French duke.

French Social Classes. The Norman system was based on a hierarchical system with lower members holding (but not owning) land in return for either military or financial obligations to their superiors, as vassals. The lowest level were the villeins, who held no hereditary rights to the land they laboured to farm. A villein was free in that he could abandon his land, but could not sell, gift or will it. Freemen were essentially rent-paying tenant farmer who owed little or no service to the lord, but formed only a small portion of the rural population, usually specialists such as blacksmiths etc. Knight — a man who owed military service for the land he held but usually did not own it. Baron- held land from the king or duke in return for substantial military obligations. Some of his land may be owned by him as a hereditary entitlement, or alod. Townsfolk were generally deemed to be freemen.

CHAPTER ONE

ST. VALERY SUR SOMME SEPTEMBER 1066

Alan de Gauville looked down from the crest of the hill overlooking the township of St Valery-sur-Somme one mile to the northwest. The town had been invaded, but by a friendly army- insofar as any army could be called friendly. The small town was comprised of perhaps eighty houses along three dirt streets, which were crowded with men wearing weapons. The abbey, built of weathered grey stone, stood outside the activity like an island of tranquillity, with scarcely a figure to be seen moving on its grounds.

To the west and south of the town a huge tent city was spread haphazardly across many fields, seething with activity. A thousand tents appeared to be randomly clustered around the colourful banners outside the larger pavilions of the nobles. Archers were practicing at the butts to the west of the camp. The horse-lines to the north of the town contained at least 2,000 horses with hundreds of men moving amongst them. Other men moved like a stream of ants into the woods just to the west of the town, whence the sound of axes could be heard, returning carrying armloads of wood for the hundreds of cooking-fires scattered amongst the tent city.

In one section of the encampment were tents with outdoor forges where smiths were fashioning horse-shoes and nails, and increasing the reserve supplies of arrowheads and crossbow bolts. The smoke from the various fires combined to make a pall like a cloud that drifted to the south on the breeze, making Alan’s eyes sting. Farriers were at work amongst the horse-lines. Fletchers sat in open-sided tents making arrows the length of a man’s forearm from the supply of wooden shafts provided by the duke, carefully checking that each was straight before attaching goose feathers and arrowhead and then placing each head-down in small barrels. The weather was cold and windy, with the wind from the north. Occasional showers of autumn rain swept in.

Out in the river, and in the shelter of the bay beyond, stood so many ships that Alan couldn’t count them. Hundreds were crammed together with scarcely a gap between them.

He straightened his back, shifted his sore buttocks on the saddle and ran a gloved hand through his short-cropped red hair. Alan de Gauville was a tall, thin but physically powerful young man of eighteen years with grey eyes. A smile twitched on his pale freckled face. “Looks like we’re in the right place,” he commented to the shorter and slightly older dark-haired man riding next to him.

Robert de Aumale laughed in response, reached across and struck Alan a friendly blow on the shoulder. “At least they haven't left without us!” he exclaimed. “Now all we need to do is find Hugh de Berniers and give him the letter that my father’s clerk wrote introducing us… well, introducing me.” Robert glanced back at the five men-at-arms trudging along on foot behind them leading three sumpter horses and a mule, and at his servant Gillard.

The men on foot were tired from their journey but at least they were carrying nothing more than a sword and spear. Their mail shirts, steel helmets and equipment were on the pack-horses, along with the equipment of the two knights. Robert’s father, with his large and wealthy manor at Aumale, had outfitted his son handsomely, particularly considering he was the fourth son. Alan was less well equipped, but with a full mail harness in a pannier of the pack-mule that belonged to him. It was an old hauberk, patched and repaired- but the best that his family could afford to provide him.

A groom from Aumale accompanied them to take back the spare pack-horses after they arrived at their destination. Man and beast, they were all sweaty and covered in the dust of two days on the road.

“It’s a pity that Count Hugh isn’t participating in the expedition,” commented Alan.

Robert pulled a wry face. “He’s old, at least fifty, and well past campaigning. Father tells tales of Hugh in his youth when he’d have been at the forefront of the charge. He has one son. I’ve heard that Bertrand wanted to join Duke William, but Hugh wouldn’t allow it; he wants to keep him alive to become Count after him. Invasions have a high mortality rate. Why take the risk when you’re already going to be a Count? What more would he get out of joining the invasion?”

“Still, at least he could have made arrangements for his people to participate, joining all of us together into a respectable force with another Count’s men, so we don’t have to each negotiate our own inclusion,” complained Alan. “Who is this Hugh de Berniers anyway?”

“He’s a vassal of Geoffrey de Mandeville. I assume you have heard of him? He’s pledged eighty ships to the expedition,” replied Robert sarcastically.

“Where the devil did they get all the ships?” asked Alan, pointing at the bay.

“I understand there isn’t a ship between Stockholm and the Iberian border that hasn’t been spoken for,” replied Robert. “Many hundreds of others were built over the last few months, or at least thrown together since we have few shipwrights in Normandy. There are 500 or 600 ships at least. Robert of Mortain pledged 120 ships. Bishop Odo pledged 100,” replied Robert.

They continued with the stream of men, horses and wagons down the dusty winding road towards the town, past fields where the villeins and freemen of the town were at work with sickle, scythe and pitch-fork. With the harvest already gathered they were cutting and stooking the stubble and making haystacks.

It was the 20th September in the Year of Our Lord 1066.

Following the beaten track into the tent city Robert took charge of the group and sought ever more specific directions. Firstly to the Norman camp, set amongst those of Duke William’s Breton and Flemish allies and French mercenaries, then to Geoffrey de Mandeville’s encampment. There Alan and Robert dismounted and Robert gestured to his men-at-arms to unload the pack-horses. Only one pack-horse and Alan’s mule would be retained, to carry the equipment of the knights on campaign under the supervision of Gillard. Being infantry, from now on the men-at-arms would wear or carry their own equipment. Robert disappeared into the throng and returned ten minutes later accompanied by a short stocky man with dark hair cropped short, stubble on his chin and wearing a brown leather jerkin and green hose.

“Hugh de Berniers, I have the honour to introduce Alan de Gauville,” said Robert, making a theatrical gesture with his right hand. As Alan and Hugh grasped forearms in greeting Robert turned to the spare groom and said, “Allerd, I want these pack-horses back in Aumale tomorrow. Here’s a denier for you to buy food for tonight and tomorrow and to bed down in a stable with the horses tonight. Get going!” Turning to Hugh he asked “Where’s de Mandeville?”

With a smile Hugh replied, “You’d better learn proper respect! Count Geoffrey is in Abbeville with Duke William and the other mighty nobles. I’ll take you to his victualler Michel. He’s a Frenchman, but not too bad despite that. He’ll be in Count Geoffrey’s pavilion tent,” he indicated a large white tent with a nod of his head. “Come with me and I’ll introduce you now.” Hugh paused and looked affably up at Alan, taking in his six-foot height, lean frame, red hair and the well-muscled broad shoulders of a trained warrior. “And what do they call you? ‘Fire in the Thatch’, ‘Rufus’ or ‘Longshanks’?” he asked.

Alan laughed and replied, “I haven’t been important enough to acquire a by-name yet.”

“Well spoken young lad, isn’t he?” said Hugh to Robert as they strode toward the pavilion.

“That comes from him being a failed monk. The Benedictines threw him out about two years ago.”

Hugh shot a quick look at Alan, who had developed a sudden deep blush. “Their loss and our gain! I look forward to hearing the story tonight! Here we are!” He pushed a way through the crowded entrance to the tent and then forced a way towards a small, shaven-headed man who was sitting behind a table looking harassed. “Ho, Michel! My friend Thibaut de Aumale has sent two knights, including his son, and five men to join us!”

Michel barely glanced up from the papers in front of him. “Give their details to my clerk, over there. The knights can join your squadron. Do the men-at-arms have their own horses? No? Well, they can join Walter’s infantry company. Six deniers each a week, plus food and fodder for the horses.”

Michel looked past Hugh at the next in line and began to speak to him when Robert interrupted. “When do we see Count Geoffrey to swear fealty?”

Michel laughed. “Count Geoffrey doesn’t have time for that crap! We’re due to sail as soon as the wind changes fair for England. Take your places, do your duty and if you’re found worthy he can worry about that later. Next!”

Back outside in the late afternoon sunshine Alan commented, “Well, that was a bit abrupt. I didn’t think we’d exactly be greeted like the prodigal son, but I’d have thought we’d have been made more welcome than that!” Hugh flushed with embarrassment but made no comment. Clearly he was put out by the cavalier treatment he himself had just received. “Let’s get ourselves set up before it gets dark,” Alan continued.

“You have your own tent?” asked Hugh.

“Yes, a five-man tent,” replied Robert.

Hugh nodded his acknowledgment that either Alan and Robert, or more likely their fathers, knew something about campaigning and said, “There’s an open space over there where you can set up your tent. Horse-lines are down there. You’re responsible to look after your own horses. The main meal is at mid-day, of course. There’s also food provided at about dusk. Don’t rely on getting any food in the town. There’s a baker, pie-sellers and so on- but with 6,000 hungry men in camp the food in the town is poor quality, expensive and scarce. You get a pound of meat, half a pound of cheese and some fruit and vegetables a day. Err… if you’re religious, there’s no fish on Fridays, sorry. Horses get fresh-cut grass and hay twice a day. If you want them to have oats, you have to arrange that yourself. Again, it’s expensive- you can spend your whole wage just feeding your horse.”

While Gillard took the horses down to the horse-lines, rubbed them down and fed and watered them, the others set up the tent, squeezed into a vacant spot of grass, and moved the knight’s equipment inside before the men-at-arms went to report at the infantry compound. Alan took three palliasses to the hay store and filled the mattresses, carrying all three back at once, draped over his head and back.

After dark Alan sat around a camp-fire with Hugh, Robert and another dozen or so men, some sitting close to the flames and others leaning back against saddles and other equipment in the semi-darkness further from the fire. The meat, a nondescript grey in colour, full of gristle and starting to turn slimy, had been boiled with vegetables. Alan was eating from a wooden bowl, having already drunk the liquid. Having given up trying to cut the meat with his knife he was gnawing patiently at the hunk of meat with his side teeth. A slice of rancid cheese lay on the grass next to him.

Alan, Hugh and Robert were the only knights in the troop, the others being common soldiers. While the talk at table at home had rarely been refined, the talk about the fire was sufficiently gross as to make Alan uncomfortable. He really wasn’t interested in hearing, thrust by thrust, of one man’s conquest of a local village slut.

“You going to eat that, boy?” demanded a man who was slouched several paces away, his voice thick with a Flemish accent. Having obtained Alan’s attention, he indicated towards the cheese with a knife which he has been using to clean his fingernails. Alan gave him a flat stare before picking up the cheese and tossing it to him. “What’s the matter, boy? Not up to your usual standards at high table? Well, queer boy, you’re going to have to get used to worse than that before the campaign is over.”

Alan sighed, put the tough meat back in the bowl and placed it on the ground next to where he was sitting. He realised he had to do something, otherwise his life was going to be made a misery for the next few months. “Maybe so,” he replied, wiping his hands on a cloth. “But I don’t have to get used to putting up with shit-for-brains like you not showing proper respect for their betters. Since you’re calling me a queer, I suspect that’s just wishful thinking on your part- not that anybody would want to have sex with a stinking deformed monkey like you.”

“Proper respect! Deformed monkey! We’ll see about that, you ponce!” snarled the Fleming in reply, starting to his feet as the others around the fire first guffawed and then fell silent in anticipation.

“No swords!” shouted Hugh, seeing Alan’s hand moving towards the sheathed sword that lay next to him. “Fists or knives!”

“Then knives it is!” said Monkey-Man in a low and dangerous tone as he circled around Alan waving his knife in the air as the latter rose to his feet and drew his own knife from a sheath in his right boot. “I’m going to cut you, boy. Cut you so bad your boyfriends will run in fright when they see you!”

Alan thought that the whole situation was ridiculous, but recognised its seriousness. He was surprised that Hugh was prepared to allow things to proceed, but knew he had to respond to the challenge and was confident despite his lack of years.

His background was an unusual in that, because he was intelligent and was a third son of a relatively poor family and with no prospects of inheritance, he’d been sent at the age of twelve to study at the Benedictine abbey at Rouen. A precocious lad, he was always in trouble, and at the age of sixteen was embarrassingly caught naked in the bed of a novice nun. That incident had caused the abbot to lose patience and expelled him. To allow Alan the opportunity to catch up for missed training time his father had called in a favour owed to him by the famous swordsman Angelo, and Alan had spent two years of intensive weapons-training at Angelo’s salle d’armes in Paris. Amongst the skills taught was ‘rough and dirty’ knife fighting. He remembered Angelo’s comments and instructions as if it were yesterday. ‘There’s no such thing as an experienced knife-fighter- everybody gets killed or badly cut after a few bouts’. ‘Fight to win- fight dirty’. ‘Keep it simple. Keep it short.’

“What’s your name, Monkey-Man?” asked Alan, goading his opponent. “I want to know who it is I’m going to kill.”

“Lonner the Quick,” came the reply, the Fleming disappointed to see confidence and contempt in Alan’s eyes rather than the fear he’d expected. He himself licked his dry lips quickly as he struggled to adapt to the change of roles.

The two men circled each other in the firelight, with a crowd of now of nearly fifty men, faces expectant in the flickering light, making a circle around them that was some eight paces wide. Alan was content to let Lonner make the first move, watching Lonner’s knife-hand and his feet. Lonner had a right lead, waving the knife back and forwards about six inches and had dropped his eyes to look at Alan’s knife. He made several feints and then tried a slash towards Alan’s arm. Alan stepped sideways to avoid the slash and circled left. With a sharp upward movement of his head he caught Lonner’s eye and stepped in and sideways to give his opponent a hard sideways kick to the left knee. The steel toecap of Alan’s boot smashed Lonner’s kneecap as he also savagely cut Lonner’s left upper arm with his knife. Lonner dropped with a squeal like a stuck pig, knee smashed and blood spurting from the deep wound in the arm.

Alan glanced about the crowd. “I guess that Lonner is no longer ‘the Quick’. Anybody else want to chance their arm?” he demanded. There were no takers and Alan walked back to sit by the fire, trying to still the trembling in his hands as he wiped his knife blade clean before putting it away in the sheath in his boot. Several men carried Lonner off towards the abbey infirmary.

“What the hell was that about?” Alan demanded of Hugh. “You could’ve stopped that anytime and made them give me the respect of my position. Instead I’ve had to cripple, and possibly kill, one of your men.”

Hugh de Berniers shrugged. “Respect has to be earned in a war-band. You have that now. I wanted to see what kind of man you are- now I know. You’re a killer who thinks quickly and fights dirty, which is just what I need. You’ll be second in command of the troop.”

Several days later they were still sitting and waiting for the wind. Each was eating a bowl of unsweetened oat porridge for breakfast when Robert asked Hugh, “Do you think we’ll ever get on the ships and sail to England?”

Hugh scratched a stubbled chin; it had been some time since he had troubled to shave. “We sailed from Dives near Caen on the 12th September with a southerly wind; it had blown from the north for weeks. Then there was a storm from the west and we got scattered as we were moving here to St Valery sur Somme. The duke made a deal with Count Guy to let us sail from here as it’s a more direct journey to England- just sail due north. We lost some ships in the storm. For the last week the wind has been back in the north- which was lucky for you or you’d have missed the passage.”

“But what about the portends? The fire in the sky after Easter?” asked Robert.

Hugh snorted with amusement. “Who knows about such things? Certainly not me- and I think not either kings nor popes. They make of them what they will. Duke William claims the fire in the sky means he’ll be successful. I doubt not that Harold claims it means William will be crushed. It was six months ago. Omens are easily read in hindsight after the battle has been decided.”

“But Duke William has the right to be king!” said another man. “Harold promised him that. He swore on holy relics and is now forsworn. Duke William has a claim by blood relationship to be king and was appointed by King Edward as his successor. God is on our side and will strengthen our arms!”

“If that’s the duke’s greatest claim to kingdom of England, then he’ll have to rely on the same argument as Sveyn Forkbeard in 1013, when he became king of the Danish part of England in the north. Swords!” interjected Alan. “Sveyn’s son Cnut followed him as king in the north when Sveyn died in 1014 and in a deal with Edmund Ironsides he also became king of Wessex, Saxon England, in the south — the deal was whoever lived longest would be king of all England. That probably seemed like a good bet to Edmund as he was a young man. But he was dead within a year or so and Cnut expanded his kingdom. His son, Harald Harefoot followed him, and then his brother Harthacnut.

“Edward returned and assumed power in the south, but who you recognised as king would probably depend on whether you were Anglo-Saxon or Danish, no matter where you lived. Harthacnut then died without legitimate heirs. The whole thing regarding ‘rights’ is a mess. William has no right to the throne, just as a bastard he had little enough claim to be duke if his father hadn’t named him his successor over the claims of his legitimate brothers, and made his vassals swear to support him before he set out on pilgrimage and then died.

“William’s claim of blood comes from being a distant relative of Cnut and being a cousin to old King Edward. The only one who may be able to claim a right to be king is Edgar the Aetheling, the boy who has the blood of King Alfred in his veins. He’s thirteen.

“Duchess Matilda, Duke William’s wife, is also distantly of the blood of Alfred, but Duke William isn’t claiming the throne in her stead. Harold has no royal blood at all. He was just the brother-in-law of Edward, but the English chose him as their king and he sits on the throne- which makes the argument of right and wrong largely irrelevant. The Norman nobles aren’t supporting William to be king out of any fine principles. They’re doing it for the land and wealth that being successful will give them- just like us lowly soldiers. To win the crown William has to beat the English army in the field and kill Harold. It’s our swords and our blood that will give him the right to be king.”

Robert added, “Recently Harold Godwinson’s brother Tostig, who’s been in Flanders with his wife’s family after he fled England when he was deposed as earl by the Northumbrians and his brother didn’t support him, has been flitting backwards and forwards. Latest rumour is that he’s been to see Harald Hardrada of Norway to see if he can get him to invade and claim the throne of England, so Tostig can get his earldom back. God only knows what Hardrada will end up doing! It’ll probably depend on whether he’s bored with constantly beating Swein, the king of Denmark.”

“To win the crown for William and riches for ourselves, first we have to get to England,” said Hugh wryly. “With the problems we’ve been having with that, it makes you wonder if God is on our side. We’ve been waiting for the right wind for weeks. It’s autumn and there are always gales and storms in autumn. It’s the equinox tomorrow. No prudent sailor takes to the sea after that, other than for short journeys. The duke has moved heaven and earth, spent all his gold and made God knows what promises to put this army here and those ships out in the river. In another two weeks it’ll all fall apart and everybody will go home.”

The next day William and his great lords arrived, chief amongst them the duke’s former guardians Robert Count of Eu and Hugh de Montford, together with Hugh de Montgomerie, Geoffrey de Mandeville, William de Warenne and William’s half brothers Robert of Mortain, Odo of Bayeux and the duke’s seneschal William fitzOsbern. The following morning the duke had Mass said for the assembled host, using the services of the many bishops and priests that would be accompanying the expedition- many of them present in the army in a martial role.

After Mass was completed Duke William mounted a small dais and shouted out an address, the words of which could not be made out by most of those present. After several minutes firstly his ducal banner of a gold leopard on a red background was unfurled, whipping in the strong breeze; the host gave a roar of approval. Then with great solemnity another banner, large and white, was borne to the dais. When unfurled by the standard-bearer, a flag with two large crossed keys in gold on a white background was revealed- the insignia of Pope Alexander. There was another roar of approval, but this somewhat muted as the watching soldiers didn’t understand the import of what they had seen. Next the monks from the abbey emerged carrying the gold-covered reliquary boxes in which the bones of St Valery resided and these were paraded in pomp around the assembled host, the soldiers kneeling piously and chanting religious songs.

Later that evening a herald, one of several dispatched by Duke William to repeat the words of his speech that distance and wind had made inaudible to most of the army, explained Duke William’s claim to the throne. This was that he was related to a number of past English monarchs from Alfred the Great to Cnut and latterly King Edward; That both in England and on the continent kingship should pass to those of royal blood, of which Harold had none; The story of Harold’s swearing on holy relics to support Duke William’s claim to succeed King Edward was repeated, as was the claim that he therefore was a forsworn oath-breaker to be reviled by all.

All of this was old news and not particularly impressive to the humble rank-and-file of the army, who saw it as standard propaganda. What was new information, and which explained the white standard, was that Pope Alexander II had recognised William’s claim to the throne of England and had given his blessing to the invasion, presenting William with a consecrated banner of St Peter and a papal ring.

All those who opposed the Duke William’s army did so at risk of excommunication and eternal damnation.

CHAPTER TWO

PEVENSEY SEPTEMBER 1066

Finally the prayers of the duke and his followers were answered. After what had seemed an interminable wait, the wind, which had blown consistently from the north for four weeks, finally changed to the south on the morning of Wednesday the 27th September.

The Norman army hurriedly embarked into the armada of waiting ships on what had become an unusually hot day. There were hundreds of ships, only the largest able to carry as many as fifty men and most as few as twenty- even less for those where the horses had been led snorting and afraid up small gangplanks onto the vessels.

Hugh de Berniers’ small squadron of cavalry was split between three of the smaller ships with six armed men, a few retainers and six horses each. Odin, Alan’s huge destrier, had proven to be one of the more fractious animals. A narrow wooden boardwalk had been build across the mud that separated the small open ship from the firm land of the riverbank and the war-horse had been reluctant enough to walk along that. To get him up the gangplank and into the padded stall that lay athwart-ships, with the animal being disturbed by the bustle and shouting all about and the loud neighing and the thump of kicks striking wood from those horses already loaded, required Alan to cover the head of the horse with a cloth while he pulled on the reins from the front and six men put their shoulders behind the horse’s rump and pushed, dodging out of the way as the horse lashed out with its rear hooves.

Everywhere were men and horses milling about in confusion on land. Ships were in equal disarray on the water, many crashing into each other as their inexperienced crews tried to manoeuvre them to or from the riverbank.

They departed on the mid-afternoon tide, the shallow mouth of the River Somme requiring the ships to have the assistance of the outgoing tide to navigate the many sandbanks and shoals. Even at high tide the ships carefully skirted exposed mudflats, where tiny brown and white sandpipers darted about and the larger black and white oystercatchers wandered slowly, using their large red beaks to dig for worms and crustaceans. White herons stalked carefully in the shallows, occasionally stabbing their beaks to catch small fish. Overhead seagulls wheeled and screamed loud protest at this invasion of their usually quiet estuary home. Alan stood with his elbows on the ship's rail, cheerfully exchanging comments with Robert and Hugh.

William had ordered the fleet to assemble around his flagship Mora in the bay beyond the river mouth, which would show a stern light on the overnight voyage. With so many ships there was no question of keeping any formation other than the ships moving en mass behind William’s large flagship. With the call for 600 ships had come a need for over 2,000 experienced sailors- which again Normandy didn’t have and which, unlike ships, couldn’t be obtained in a few weeks.

The fleet, the soldiers and sailors having attended a special Mass to beseech God’s mercy in their endeavour to sail such a large fleet late in the season, commended their souls to the Lord and set sail, heading north.

The boat on which Alan and Robert were travelling was ‘captained’, if that was the correct word, by a Fleming, with the assistance of two youths whom the Fleming had to instruct which ropes to pull. As darkness fell they couldn’t see the stern light of the Mora, so the captain, muttering all the time about the lateness of the season and the risk of storms, simply headed due north looking for the high white cliffs of Beachy Head, intending to then make a turn to the east to land at the instructed disembarkation point of Bulverhythe harbour, a large harbour just to the west of the smaller harbour of Hastings proper.

They spent an uncomfortable night. The strong southerly wind, while filling the single sail and pushing them north, also caused choppy seas. This, together with a swell from the east, caused the small cog to both pitch and roll. Almost as soon as the ship had reached open water most of the men were lining the ship’s side and vomiting. Robert was badly affected by seasickness, Alan less so. The horses, in their temporary stalls athwart-ships, were clearly unhappy; they stamped their feet, snorted and tried to kick or bite anybody who came in range at either end.

Sunrise was a little after 6.00am and the rising sun revealed them to be several miles from land, with Beachy Head off to the left. The ship was surrounded by a veritable forest of masts and sails all heading north, most apparently setting a course for Pevensey. High tide was due about noon and the tidal ebb of both Pevensey and Bulverhythe harbours dictated a quick disembarkation if ships were not to be swept back out to sea by the ebb of the tide. A few of the ships entered the harbour itself; most simply drew up and beached themselves bow-first at low water on the shingle beach or the mudflats to the east, disembarking as quickly as possible and then using the incoming tide to refloat and proceed back to sea.

With so many ships arriving almost at the same time, Alan’s boat had to wait for a patch of shingle beach to become free before the captain carefully manoeuvred between other boats and gently ran bow-forward onto the beach. The men-at-arms aboard disembarked immediately, jumping over the bow of the boat into the thigh-deep water and splashed their way ashore, leaving the knights and their retainers to unload the horses.

Unloading the horses was no easy task. Waves three feet high were rolling from astern, causing the ship to rise and fall and its bottom to thump onto the hard-packed stones of the beach. The planks that were placed amidships for the horses to walk down were repeatedly dislodged by the waves. With the typical perversity of their kind, several of the horses now decided that they didn’t want to leave their stalls. The captain and crew, standing back and providing no assistance, repeatedly shouted abuse and instructed the knights to, “Get the damn nags off this ship before we spring a plank. If you don’t do it quick, I’ll cut their damn throats and throw them overboard.” Robert detailed a man with drawn sword to detain the crew near the steering oar, and a blow to the mouth stopped the captain’s stream of abuse.

Eventually all six horses were coaxed down the narrow plank walkway, most with a blanket over their heads to prevent them being frightened and unmanageable. The sea where the horses were being unloaded was chest-deep and nearly an hour passed before the last horse was led wet and shivering up the beach.

All around them was a scene of total confusion. Men were struggling onboard ships; men were struggling though the water and men milling about on the beach with no idea of what to do. Horses stood on the beach and in groups closer to the town. Hundreds of ships were drawn up on the beach, with their sterns still in the water. Dozens of ships had lost control, some crashing into and running afoul of other ships, locked together. Others were side-on to the waves and rolling viciously as the waves pounded them against the stony beach. Those ships that had unloaded were struggling to get off the beach and get a reasonable distance off-shore- which was no easy task when they were on a lee-shore with the wind trying to blow them back to the beach.

Fortunately there was no interference from the English navy. Even a dozen Saxon longboats, propelled by oars, would have wreaked devastation amongst the invasion fleet. There was also no sign of the English army; again even a small force would have been able to have mounted an effective defence against the disorganized rabble who were landing. Alan was please to find that the rumours of the English fleet and the native militia fyrd being dispersed because of the lateness of the season appeared to be accurate. After all, nobody in their right mind would start an invasion in late September.

By God’s good grace the Normans and their allies had received the one day of good weather and southerly winds that the expedition had required, and their leaders had held the army together long enough to make a crossing almost impossibly late in the season.

The few residents of Pevensey, a small town little more than a village, did their best to make themselves invisible.

The next day was 29th September- Michaelmas, the feast of St Michael. There was little in the way of feasting, although most of the contingent still had a few supplies that they had brought with them. Almost the whole army attended a series of outdoor Masses held that day- there was no shortage of Bishops and their entourages, as many had contributed armed forces towards the army.

Several days were spent by the men raising an earthen motte and erecting a castle by installing prefabricated wooden sections that had been brought to make the walls and keep. The tents of the army were erected on the high ground to the west of the town.

It was soon clear that the choice of landing place had been a poor one. Marshes dominated the landscape to the north and east. There was no usable road and the army stripped the countryside bare of fresh food within days. Perishable food had not been brought with the supplies on the ships, which were limited mainly to sacks of dried peas and beans, root vegetables, flour and oats- the latter for the horses.

Word passed around the army that they were to move further east along the coast to Hastings. While Hastings was only ten miles away ‘as the crow flies’, the journey would entail thirty miles of difficult slogging across swamps, sluggish tidal rivers and around Bulverhythe harbour. The foot-soldiers were ferried by boat around the worst of the land and marched along the coast; the cavalry rode the long way around. Nobody wanted to load and unload horses from ships ever again.

Hallisham and Hooe were laid waste by the cavalry. Ninefield and Catsfield were badly damaged and stripped bare. On the more southerly route the foot-soldiers devastated the four villages in their path; Bexhill, Crowhurst, Wilting and Filsham. Leaving two paths of death and destruction behind it, the army entered the land at Hastings belonging to the Abbey of Fecamp. There William and much of his army took Mass on 1st October and then spent several days constructing another pre-fabricated fort.

Alan was less than happy with the actions of the army. He’d marched with most of the cavalry on the northern route to Hastings. The devastation that an army on the march wreaked was distasteful to him. Any army, even if on friendly soil and well managed, wrought devastation and pillage as it moved. In enemy territory, even if unresisting, the situation was worse. Alan was sick to the stomach of seeing burnt-out farms, the dead bodies of men whose only crime was to seek to protect what was theirs, and the violated and dead corpses of their womenfolk.

“I may be inexperienced, but I like not the actions of our men towards the local populace,” commented Alan as they rode through the burnt ruin of the village of Wilting. A few trees were decorated with the bodies of those soldiers caught in flagrant breach of the ban imposed by William on such activities, but this had done little to control the excesses of many in the army, particularly the mercenaries.

The equally inexperience Robert sighed his agreement, but Hugh replied, “Mercenaries and foot-soldiers fight in the expectation of loot to supplement their meagre pay.”

“That may well be the case, but at least one of those bodies swinging in the breeze wore a tunic of reasonable quality- I would guess that man to have been a knight, although now stripped of his armour and weapons. How much plunder do they expect to find in a poor village where the serfs scrape a bare existence from the soil?”

“Perhaps something of worth from the manor houses of the local thegns, perhaps a hoard of silver or some plate,” replied Hugh. “A substantial part of the problem is the lack of fresh provisions for the army. An army on friendly soil can expect to receive supplies either bought or requisitioned from the local villages, or brought in by wagon from further away. An army on the march in enemy territory is expected to feed itself as it moves, meaning that it had to constantly keep moving, emptying the countryside of food like a plague of locusts. An army in enemy territory that stands still is at a severe disadvantage. Apart from the strategic implications of a stationary army losing any advantage of manoeuvre, within days it cannot feed itself.”

While the move from Pevensey to Hastings was an improvement, a few hours on horseback showed Alan that the situation was still unsuitable for an army. Hastings was effectively a small triangle of land with Bulverhythe harbour to the west. To the east were the marshy valleys of the Bede and Rother rivers. To the north a track led through the Andreas Forest on the way to London, some sixty miles away.

Alternatively, a route east led across the Bede and Rother rivers and the coastal route to London via Dover. Both routes placed William’s army at a disadvantage due to the ground being unsuitable for cavalry. The area was heavily wooded and contained few villages and little food. Some ships arrived with food and provisions, but these were few and made little impact on the situation for an army that would soon be slowly starving.

Within a week the area had been ravaged of all food. There was scarcely a chicken or pig within five miles. Haystacks were carried off to feed the warhorses. What little money or loot was available had long gone- stolen by the soldiers or hidden by owners who had fled.

And still nothing was heard of the English or their army.

CHAPTER THREE

CALDBEC HILL OCTOBER 1066

On 7th October a messenger rode in for Duke William from Robert fitzWymarc, a distant relative of the duke who had long lived in England after being given land by King Edward. FitzWymarc advised of Harold’s incredible march from London to York, his crushing victory over the Norwegians at Stamford Bridge and his rapid march back to London where both the professional troops who had been victorious at Stamford Bridge and the thegns and fyrd of East Anglia and Hertfordshire were being raised against William’s army- together with the men from Harold’s own lands of Kent, Middlesex and the lands of the West Saxons. Harold would soon possess an army of crushing strength.

“We can’t sit here, that’s for sure,” commented Alan on hearing this latest news. “Harold is coming, as we always knew he would. We’re penned up in a tiny pocket of land, where we’ll soon be starving. There’s no way we can winter here.”

“And Harold’s ships will soon be cutting off what little supplies and reinforcements we receive by sea,” agreed Robert morosely. “Why do you think that William has ordered a harrying of the land around here? It’s been stripped pretty bare anyway but that’s just what happens when you have a hungry army with time on its hands, particularly when at least a third of the men are mercenaries. Now he wants everything torching except the abbey’s lands.”

Alan shook his head in mystification. “Harold seems to be able to move his army fifty or sixty miles a day. If he was in London two days ago, he could be here today.”

“But not in force,” replied Robert. “The longer he waits the stronger he will be when he arrives.”

“What of the pope’s threat of excommunication to any who oppose William? What effect do you think that will have?” asked Alan.

Hugh de Berniers, who had been listening, laughed sardonically. “I think it’ll mean little to the English. If Harold wins and we’re defeated, I’m sure that Harold will convince the pope that it’s all a mistake and no sentence of excommunication should be proclaimed. If he loses this battle and there’s a prolonged campaign, perhaps it’ll affect the English morale in the long term. Don’t forget they’re fighting for their homes against us foreign invaders. What another foreigner, however influential, says is likely to be of little consequence to them. After all, ‘The Bastard’ was in trouble with Pope Leo over his marriage to Matilda and that didn’t prevent him from getting what he wanted eventually- it just took some time and cost a lot of money to bribe the pope. I understand the cost was the building and endowment of two new abbeys. Stigand, the Archbishop of Canterbury, has been under anathema of excommunication for years- excommunicated by five successive Popes, and both Edward the Confessor and Harold retained him in the most influential ecclesiastical position in the land for political reasons. To me that indicates the English pay scant attention to the interdictions issued by the Holy Fathers in Rome.”

“Anyway, who’s to say the English even know of the interdict?” commented Robert. “We received news only a few weeks ago and few ships will have been able to sail against the wind to England in that time. I’m more interested in how many of the English huscarles and thegns were killed or wounded at Fulford Gate and Stamford Bridge, and how many march against us. One thing is for certain, it’s been a difficult few weeks for Harold and the English.”

“How did the duke get Pope Alexander’s Blessing for the expedition?” queried Alan.

“Politics!” replied Hugh. “The pope is Italian. We Normans are very influential in Italy and Sicily these days. There are a lot of us down there- and no Englishmen! Alexander received the duke’s embassy and didn’t even bother to send for the English to hear their side of the argument. William claimed Harold is an adulterer and forsworn. If that’s the worst he could come up with then Harold must have led a fairly blameless life!

“What Bishop Lanfranc offered the pope was a chance to bring the English church to heel. It’s been quite independent, even having the scriptures translated into English and Mass spoken in the local language- which most churchmen find offensive. The churchmen of Normandy and France claim the English church is full of corruption, with offices bought and sold or given as bribes- the crime of simony. Considering the situation of Odo, the Duke William’s half-brother and now Bishop of Bayeux, the pope must have found it hard to control his mirth on hearing that argument! Odo was appointed as bishop when he was still a child, has no learning and no knowledge of the scriptures. How many bishops put on armour and ride into battle as part of their religious duties? Several of the Norman bishops do!

“What tipped the balance was that Lanfranc offered that Duke William promised to hold England as the pope’s vassal, expanding the power of the Holy See. I’m sure that’s one promise that will be quietly forgotten! Still, it means that the duke has received a papal ring, the flag of St Peter and a written edict blessing him as king of England- and promising excommunication to all who oppose him. These are quite considerable weapons in the duke’s armoury!”

Nothing happened for several days, to the frustration of the Norman army. Then an English monk rode out of the trees and was taken to William’s camp. A few hours later scouts rode in and word passed around the camp that a large English army had been seen amongst the trees of the Andreswald some ten miles to the north. Matters appeared finally to be moving to some sort of a conclusion. The English monk, accompanied by a French monk and with several knights as an escort, rode out early the following day- Friday 13th October.

Although without formal instructions and little to go on other than gossip, the Normans spent the day in camp in final preparations for battle, many attending the several large outdoor Masses that were being celebrated, hoping to increase their chances of Redemption if matters went against them in the coming battle.

That night Alan sat with Robert and Hugh near a camp-fire. “There’s plenty of firewood, and the horses can crop the grass. It’s a pity that we don't have much to eat- we can’t eat grass! Thanks for providing the hare, Hugh,” commented Robert, as he carefully broke a small stale loaf of bread into three and handed a piece to Alan and to Hugh.

Hugh used his knife to turn the carcass of a small hare that was roasting on the fire. “There’s going to be barely a mouthful of meat each, and the damn thing cost me a denier! Praise be to God that one way or the other something will happen soon, otherwise next week we'll have to start eating the horses! Turning an expensive destrier into stew is not a good use of resources!”

“What do you think is going to happen?” asked Alan.

Hugh shrugged. “If Harold has moved south we have to go to meet him. The land nearby here isn’t suitable for the sort of battle we Normans prefer- we need space to manoeuvre. Hopefully we’ll find a suitable battlefield somewhere, although from what I hear the land is thick woods most of the way to London. In the end we’ll fight where we must- and we must fight soon! If Harold is clever he’ll simply sit between wherever we are and London and refuse battle. We're getting weaker, while his army will be getting stronger. Still, that’s for the nobles to resolve- we just carry our lance wherever we're told!”

The following morning there was a waning moon in the sky as dawn broke and instructions were given that the army would march at sunrise, which that day was at seven in the morning. Other than the nobles, the army marched dressed for battle in full armour and with lances held aloft.

From Hastings to Caldbec Hill was a distance of seven miles along a winding and rutted track. William’s army stretched for three miles along the track, with the Normans at the rear. Hugh de Berniers’s squadron was located about four-fifths of the way along the column. Their view ahead was obscured by Telham Hill and the dust raised by thousands of feet. The column suddenly halted and word flashed back that the English army was on the next hill, Caldbec Hill- just 800 yards from the Norman vanguard. The Norman army was deploying for battle.

The time was a little after eight in the morning.

The Norman forces inched forward, first to the top of Telham Hill, where Alan could make out something of the next major rise in the ground, in front of which the Norman army appeared to be deploying. However, the dust and the intervening small rise of Starr’s Green made it difficult to make out details. When they eventually reached the rise of Starr’s Green the battlefield was suddenly revealed and the reason for the slow deployment became obvious.

“Sweet Jesus!” muttered Hugh de Berniers “I’ve never seen such a battlefield. There’ll be many dead before the end of this day! This isn’t a battlefield, it’s a killing field!”

The terrain was shaped like the letter ‘T’ with the top formed by a nearly level hill on which the English were deployed in a shield-wall. The hill was perhaps 800 yards wide with both flanks protected by steep ground falling away from the ends of the line, and also with a thick forest on the west flank. The English had formed a shield-wall below the brow of the hill just above the ground that had been cultivated. They were there in their thousands. There were perhaps 800 or 1,000 men in the shield-wall, but with the ranks eight or ten deep behind them there were probably 8,000 armed men in all, slightly more than William’s army.

The leg of the ‘T’ was a low ridge along which the road ran towards the position occupied by the English. What had caused Hugh de Berniers’s comment, and the delay in deployment, was the fact that the ridge on which the road was located acted as a water-shed. Streams ran south-west and north-east away from the road and parallel to the hill occupied by the English. The low-lying land at the foot of the hill was soft and marshy, particularly to the west, with the streams only some 150 to 200 paces from the English line.

Usually an army would deploy from column to line at least 500 paces from the enemy. Had William done so, the bulk of his army would then have to cross the marshes as they assaulted the hill. Instead he had taken the risk of passing beyond the streams and then had the Bretons deploy to the left and the French and Flemish deploy to the right, with the Normans occupying the higher ground in the centre of the Norman line. This was done little more than 150 paces from the English line.

The slope uphill from the position where the Norman army had deployed to that where the English shield-wall stood varied across the battlefield, from a moderate slope of one in thirty on the western end and centre, becoming much more steep on the eastern flank up which the French and Flemings must attack- there perhaps as much as one in six. The lower slopes, even above the marshy ground near the streams, would be difficult to traverse even on foot. For cavalry to use that ground risked the horses becoming mired in mud and potentially suffering injury to their legs. To make matters worse the first part of the land across which the invaders would be attacking had recently been ploughed. Rain had made the ground wet- even on the more level land the slope of the hill in the ploughed field would make the approach a hard slog for the infantry and a proper coordinated charge by the cavalry very difficult.

Remarkably, the English allowed the Norman deployment to take place without interference. Had an attack been made when William’s army was only half-deployed, with part on one side of the marshland deployed in line and the other part still in column on the road, the result could hardly have been anything but a crushing defeat for the Normans. But the English simply stood and watched, apparently satisfied to wait on the Norman army to assault the strong position held by them.

Alan wiped a cloth across his face, leaving the material wet and dirty from sweat and dust. Neither he nor Robert had fought in earnest before, and even the more experienced Hugh had never fought in a large battle. “Why are they just standing there?” Alan asked.

Hugh replied, “Harold has fought with Duke William in Normandy. He knows the way we fight. Here he has superb professional infantry- but with a large militia force of the fyrd, no cavalry and few archers. Perhaps he’s not confident his men, particularly the fyrd, can defeat knights on the open field. Perhaps he simply sees no need to take a risk and believes a defensive battle to be the better option. Attacking across that ground and up that hill is going to be a real bastard! If he forces us back and then sends his men down the hill they’ll squash us like cockroaches in the marsh near the streams. I think that St Peter will be a very busy man this day! May Jesus, Mary and Joseph protect us all!”

“Duke William has never lost a battle!” objected Robert.

“True. Neither has Harold!” replied Hugh. “Robert, turn around and I’ll check the buckles on your harness. Then you do the same for Alan. The battle will start shortly.”

The Red Dragon banner of Wessex, the nearest thing that the English had to a royal banner fluttered from the highest point of the English line, very near the centre. Alongside flew Harold’s personal banner of ‘The Fighting Man’, the silhouette in green of a helmeted man wielding sword and shield on a white flag.

Geoffrey de Mandeville’s cavalry were amongst the last to move into position. They were just on the west side of the middle of the leg of the ‘T’, level with the head of the stream that ran to the west. They covered the right flank of the men from Brittany, Anjou, Poitou and Maine, commanded by Alan Fergant of Brittany; their left flank required no cavalry support, being firmly anchored in dense trees and bushes.

Positioned on the left of the Norman section of the line, just to the left of the centre of Duke William’s army, Hugh de Berniers’ squadron was in the middle of the third line of de Mandeville’s cavalry, which was drawn up four ranks deep. Geoffrey de Mandeville’s men kept a close eye on the forces to the left, as the Bretons were not held in high regard by the Normans either for fighting ability or trustworthiness.

Alan saw three things that were notable about the battlefield, apart from the proximity of the opponents. One was its small size, less than 1,000 paces wide and between 200 and 300 paces deep. The second was the total lack of opportunity for manoeuvre, with both English flanks protected by terrain or trees. Like the English, the Normans were drawn up in ranks. Had they charged knee to knee there would have been room for perhaps 500 of the over 2,000 armoured horsemen to engage the enemy. The final item of note was the silence, except for the occasional shout of abuse or challenge from the English which the Normans ignored largely because they couldn’t understand the Saxon tongue.

The silence changed when, next to William’s personal standard of a gold leopard on a red background, was unfurled the large banner of St Peter with its two crossed gold keys on a white background, blessed by Pope Alexander and brought from Rome. At that moment came a roar from the throats of 6,000 Normans, Bretons, French and Flemings.

Those of the English who had not heard the rumour over the previous days were now aware that William fought with the approval and blessing of the pope. William’s men now felt less like wolves ripping at the living body of England and more like crusaders.

The English responded with the load drumming of sword and spear on shields and their ancestral battle chant of, “Out! Out! Out!”

After the papal banner was carried back to a position of safety the Norman assault began. As usual with armies from the continent, the Norman army was comprised of archers, armoured foot-soldiers carrying sword or spear and armoured cavalry. As usual with armies of Norse descent, the English fought solely on foot as infantry with sword, axe and spear.

Alan noticed one more thing. William had kept back no reserve of troops to either exploit a breakthrough or provide protection in case of a retreat. Clearly William saw this as a ‘win at all costs’ battle that would decide the fate of the invasion once and for all.

“Crunch time! May God the Father, Son and Holy Ghost protect us all! Let us place our trust in the Lord!” said Hugh piously.

“Now we earn our half-crown a day!” replied Alan with a nod, crossing himself and bending his head as he made a personal supplication to God for his safety in the coming battle.

“My pay is in arrears! Can I be excused now?” quipped Robert, to ease the tension they were all feeling. The others laughed at the jest and clapped him on the shoulders before standing next to the shoulders of their horses, ready to mount on order. They stood unmounted to avoid unnecessarily tiring their mounts, in what was likely to be a long day for both man and beast.

The Norman archers, mainly bowmen but with a sprinkling of crossbowmen, cautiously approached the English shield-wall and began to fire at close range. Some were over-confident and approached too close. They received a hail of spears, thrown hand-axes and rocks tied to wooden handles, causing some casualties before the Normans bowmen quickly retreated out of range of such thrown missiles, at a distance of 90 to 100 paces.

At close range it was nearly impossible to miss if the archer had a clear target- but few Englishmen were hit by the arrows as the flat trajectory of the shots and the fact that the bowmen were shooting uphill from positions lower than the Englishmen, meant that nearly every arrow fired hit a shield. The crossbowmen proved slightly more effective as some of the bolts were able to penetrate the shields and cause injury to those sheltering behind. The barrage proved to be much shorter in duration than was usual. Each archer carried three sheaves, each of twenty-four arrows; they ran out of missiles after ten to twelve minutes. Their usual method of obtaining reloads was to collect the arrows their enemies had fired in return, but they were denied this by the total lack of return bow-fire.

Behind the archers moved the Norman heavy infantry. Most were wearing chain-mail but a few wore jerkins of boiled leather and padded gambesons. All wore helmets and were armed with sword and spear. The Normans were carrying long kite-shaped shields, those of the infantry somewhat longer than those carried by the cavalry. The Anglo-Saxons carried a mix of similar kite-shields, and also round or even oblong shields- all locked tightly together in the shield-wall.

The Norman infantry plodded up the hill, gasping under the weight of their arms and armour as they struggled firstly across first the low-lying marshy ground, then uphill over the ploughed field and finally up the steep slope as they neared the top of the hill.

On the right flank the French and Fleming infantry were almost having to climb up the hill to the English, so steep was the slope of the land.

At a range of twenty paces the English line suddenly opened and a veritable storm of short-range missiles, javelins, throwing-axes, rocks and a few arrows struck the Normans. This caused them to reel backwards for a moment before regaining their momentum and resume moving forward.

Shield met shield with a clash and the ring of sword on sword could be heard. Spears were thrust on both sides, some finding targets and others not. Here and there the English shield-wall would open and one or two thegns or huscarles carrying massive Danish battle-axes, with a haft five feet long and a razor-sharp blade over twelve inches across, would leap into the open and swing their weapons with both hands. When they hit a shield it was smashed to pieces, and often carried on to cause serious injury to the target. When they hit a man they would cleanly chop off a limb or hack the man in twain. After several blows the axe-men would retreat back behind the shield-wall.

Although with better training and discipline and equal equipment, the infantry of the Normans and their allies were simply unable to force the mass of the English line back or create any gaps that the waiting cavalry could exploit. Chanting, shouts and screams rent the air. In places the men were pressed so close together that the dead could not fall to the ground and the wounded could not withdraw.

“Well, Plan ‘A’ isn't working. I suppose now it's time for Plan ‘B’. Hopefully the duke knows what he's doing,” commented Hugh as they watched from their vantage point. Alan grunted in reply.

William ordered his cavalry forward to support the hard-pressed infantry. The first two ranks of de Mandeville’s cavalry dutifully trotted forward over the difficult ground. The knights spurred their horses up the already blood-stained hill, their speed slowed by the slope, the slipperiness of the surface and the need of the horses to avoid tripping over obstacles such as bodies, rocks and discarded shields. The cavalry also was met by a hail of missiles that brought some men or beasts to the ground. Then the cavalry either threw their lances and wheeled away, stopped and prodded at the English line with their lances- or swept sideways this way and that seeking a gap in the English line. Norman horses were brought down by spears or javelins and the stunned horsemen killed, usually before they could regain their feet. The Normans found that the axe-men could, with a single well-aimed blow, cleave through shield, man and horse together.

Alan, Robert and Hugh de Berniers stood beside their destriers and watched as spectators from a distance of about 250 paces, becoming more and more morose as the battle wore on. A change-over in the Norman cavalry in the centre was about to take place, with the third rank readying to take their turn.

The banners of both Duke William and Count Geoffrey indicated they were engaged in the attack on the English centre, when suddenly the situation changed completely in almost a moment.

The Bretons and the other allies on the left flank suddenly collapsed. Their commander had asked too much for too long. At first the infantry broke and ran, disorganising the horsemen behind them, who soon joined in the general flight. Many of the right, or western, flank of the Englishmen, who had now for several hours suffered continuous assault, were overcome with bloodlust and anger and believed that victory was close. They boiled past the shield-wall and down the hill. Here the stream and marshy ground was only 250 paces away from the English line, and the English fyrdmen and thegns hit the struggling and floundering Breton infantry and horsemen, hacking, cutting and slashing as they killed every Breton they caught.

Alan and the rest of de Mandeville’s men mounted immediately without needing any order.

“Fucking Bretons! I knew we couldn’t rely on them!” swore Robert.

No instructions came. Alan looked to Hugh de Berniers, who in turn was looking frantically to the north for de Mandeville.

Taking the situation into his own hands Alan raised his lance and bellowed what he saw as the obvious order. “Squadron advance left at the canter!” he roared as he spurred Odin forward. His squadron and the two on each side, glad that an order had been given, advanced at first at a trot and then a canter, heading west- parallel to the English shield-wall and on reasonably firm ground. The fifty horsemen rode stirrup to stirrup over a front about 100 yards wide.

At first they encountered stray Englishmen who were only looking towards the Bretons. Then, at a full gallop, they smashed into the unprotected flank of the large disorganised mass of Englishmen who had followed the Bretons down the hill.

Trying to keep a level head in his first major engagement, Alan was nearly unseated when Odin swerved to run down a thegn carrying an axe and who was looking the other way. He then used his lance to quickly spear one after the other three unarmoured fyrdmen, two of whom were spearmen, before his lance shattered in the third and was wrenched from his grasp. Drawing his sword he angled towards the next horseman in line, shouting to the other cavalrymen to form an arrow-head formation and trying to recover control of the charge, which had now progressed about 300 yards in distance to be level with a small hillock behind the Bretons’ starting position.

They had compressed the English on the western flank to the point that continued progress by the cavalry would be foolhardy. The charge had taken the pressure off the Bretons, whose own cavalry now rejoined the fray from the swamp to the south. At the same time Duke William’s half-brother Bishop Odo of Bayeux, who ostensibly for religious reasons had not so far taken part in the battle, had gathered de Mandeville’s final rank of cavalry who had not followed Alan’s charge, his own bodyguard and whatever other loose horsemen he could find, and had begun to press along the stream to the south closer to the marshy ground than Alan had led his charge.

In the meantime the Norman centre had disengaged and fallen back to its start-line, the left flank of the Normans angled to protect its now vulnerable flank. On the right flank, the Flemish and French commanded by William fitzOsbern, a cousin of the duke, also disengaged and moved back out of missile range of the English line.

Alan’s men returned to their starting position, where they saw Duke William. The duke had removed his helmet and was galloping around proclaiming he was alive. Eustace of Boulogne had seized the papal banner and was carrying it as close to William as he could. Alan gathered that a rumour had arisen that William had been killed, and the duke was in the process of overcoming that rumour. William gathered what cavalry was available on the Norman left flank, including Alan and the men of de Mandeville that Alan had just led, and then led them back into the English still below the shield-wall. There some of the English were making a forlorn last stand on the hillock near the stream, some 200 yards from the main English shield-wall at the top of Caldbec Hill. Hacking and slashing, the Norman horsemen cut them down and stabilized the line.

A protracted break in hostilities then occurred while the English moved troops to their now weakened right flank. At the same time the Normans and their allies re-established their lines, watered their horses at the streams and sat to eat whatever food they had thought to bring with them. In Alan’s case it was a piece of bread and some jerked beef, washed down by clean water he carried in a water-skin tied to Odin’s saddle.

Hugh de Berniers walked up to Alan and handed him a replacement lance before sitting down next to him and clapping him on the shoulder. “That was warm work! By God’s grace we suffered few casualties,” he said as he accepted a swallow of Alan’s water. “It was quick of you to size up the situation and take control over what had to be done. I’ll see that Count Geoffrey hears of it. I’d better get moving, as we’ll be back at it again soon!”

Hugh was correct. After a break of about an hour and a half the Norman infantry and cavalry followed the archers up the now blood-soaked and churned ground of the hill. New supplies of arrows had arrived and this time the bowmen aimed higher, allowing the arrows to fall on the lesser-protected fyrdmen in the rear ranks. The crossbowmen were more effective, with their bolts smashing through shields and into the men beyond.

The infantry struggled past dead and dying men and horses from the previous attacks. Again the English war chants rang out, increasing in volume as the foreigners reached the shield-wall and once again the bitter hand-to-hand fighting resumed. Again the Norman infantry were unsuccessful and were repulsed. Again the Norman cavalry were sent up the hill, but still the Normans couldn’t force the English off the hill or force a way through the shield-wall.

The Normans had noticed that the banners of Harold’s brothers, the earls Leofric and Gyrth, had both disappeared- but still the Dragon Standard and the banner of ‘The Fighting Man’ flew over the centre of the English line. Time and again the Norman horsemen battered against the English line, each time falling back and allowing the hail of Norman arrows and crossbow bolts to resume.

Alan participated in two of these charges. Odin snorted and cavorted as he rolled his eyes in a mixture of fear and excitement resulting from the smell of blood, the constant shouting- and empathy with Alan’s own feelings of fear. Labouring up the hill, slipping on the spilled blood and stumbling over the fallen bodies of the dead and living, Odin pressed gamely up to the shield-wall to allow Alan to prod with his lance at whatever target presented itself beyond.

In the next charge Alan saw Hugh de Berniers fall from his horse, hit in the thigh by a throwing-axe. Alan forced Odin over to where Hugh stood gamely on one leg, offered him a hand and pulled him onto the pommel of the saddle before turning to trot back to the Norman lines. There, as Hugh was assisted to the ground he slapped Alan’s hand in thanks for saving his life, saying nothing as he was hit by a wave of pain as his injured leg touched the ground.

By now any precision in the Norman attacks, always hampered by the terrain, was a thing of the past. Duke William appeared to have given up on the Norman heavy-infantry, accepting they were not up to the task of forcing their way uphill and through the shield-wall. Instead he was relying on waves of the heavy cavalry that had won him each of his previous victories, supporting them with archers and cross-bowmen.

The horsemen were no longer organised into their original squadrons, and attacks were mounted sporadically as sufficient knights and men-at-arms at the base of the hill felt that they and their mounts were ready for another tilt at the enemy. Blown and exhausted horses were led to the streams to be watered. Some men, on foot and on horseback, could be seen going up Telham Hill on their way back to Hastings. Others were shuttling backwards and forwards to the large tents that been erected on the level ground near Starr’s Green, where the injured were being treated.

Alan watched the flow of battle for nearly an hour, having watered Odin and allowing him time to recover his strength. The Norman right flank, where fitzOsbern commanded the Flemings and French, had twice successfully lured overconfident Englishmen into following by pretending flight, with the ‘fleeing’ cavalry and others from the Norman centre then cutting the pursuing Englishmen to pieces.

In the late afternoon Alan lined up for another attack on the English centre. As he had often done during the day, Duke William joined the line. His personal leopard banner waved in the air, carried by the standard-bearer next to him. Riding up the hill was a re-occurring nightmare, except that by now the English had run out of missiles to throw as the constant attacks by the Norman archers kept the English within their lines and unable to retrieve their missiles.

The Normans were now walking their tired horses up the hill, only rising to a canter over the last few yards where the shield-wall was partially protected by a virtual breast-work comprised of the bodies of Norman men and horses.

As he turned for his third run of the current attack Alan saw a group of a dozen men suddenly spring from the English line, most carrying the two-handed battle-axe, and attack a group of an approximately equal number of Norman knights. The axes cleaved through shield and armour as, taken by surprise, the knights were swarmed under.

The standard of the golden leopard fell, as quickly did those around the central figure of the group. The last-standing axe-man smashed his axe into the neck of Duke William’s horse. As the horse fell atop its rider the Saxon raised the axe for another blow. Before it could fall Alan delivered a back-handed blow with his sword that saw the axe-man’s head rolling away. Alan leaped out of his saddle, put his hands under the duke’s armpits and started to try to pull him out from under the horse, as he was in deadly danger just yards from the English line.

Duke William’s dark brown eyes looked up into Alan’s face. Both men were covered in blood, grime and sweat. Moments later another dozen men were assisting and the duke was freed. Alan noted a deep cut on William’s forearm, probably from a horseshoe of his fallen mount, and swiftly but expertly applied a somewhat dirty cloth as a bandage. Odin had not taken the opportunity to bolt, but instead did as he had been trained and bravely stood between his rider and the enemy. Alan patted his mount’s shoulder and lifted the small saddlebag from the horse before turning back to William and handed him the reins. He shouted above the din of battle, “Take him. His name is Odin and he’s a good horse, although I think even his big heart only has one more charge in it!”

William nodded, clapped Alan on the shoulder and as he levered himself tiredly up into the saddle he said, “Come and see me after the battle. What is your name, Sir?”

“Alan de Gauville,” answered Alan as he turned to walk away down the hill, slinging his saddlebag across his left shoulder.

A shout of relief arose from the Norman ranks as the golden leopard standard was raised again and William lifted his helm to allow his face to be seen by his men.

As Alan bent to clean his sword on the clothing of a dead man, he received a stunning blow to the back of his head and dropped to his knees; he’d been struck by a rock tied to a stick and hurled from the English ranks. He shook his head carefully and then pushed himself to his feet, using his sword for support and started to stagger off down the hill.

Watching where he was putting his feet, Alan saw a sword, one of the thousands of weapons now lying discarded on the battlefield. It was of a one-and-a-half hand design, plain of appearance and made of polished steel with a sharkskin hand-grip. On picking it up he found that the 31 inch blade had perfect balance. It was a pattern-forged sword of the highest quality, its acid-etched blade revealing the distinctive pattern which both resulted from its complicated manufacture and resulted in the name from which it was made. The sword was of such quality that only the most wealthy noble could commission its making, a sword that would require a master sword-smith a month to create. This was a blade that was forged from five-sheets of steel and iron, then twisted into a bar and re-forged and tempered time after time to a perfection of strength and flexibility. Looking carefully at the steel-blue pattern created by the forging Alan immediately dubbed the sword with the name Blue Fire, which came unbidden to his mind. Finding an unused scabbard was as easy as checking two or three bodies for a scabbard the correct size. After cleaning the sword and sheathing it, Alan tucked it under his arm and continued to walk down the hill.

He was exhausted and the blow to the head had made him dizzy and nauseous. As he now had no horse, and had no intention of struggling in full armour on foot back up the hill to engage the English line through the ploughed field that had now turned into a muddy morass, he walked up the hill towards Starr’s Green, dropped his saddlebag tiredly to the ground and used it as a seat as he sat and watched.

After a long while, as the sun was setting and the confused mass of men continued to surge and push on Caldbec Hill, Alan walked to the large tent that he recognised as belonging to Geoffrey de Mandeville. As he expected, it was overflowing with wounded. Roger of Caen, de Mandeville’s private churgeon, together with a monk and several assistants, were working on the wounded. The medical staff were all covered from head to foot in blood. Alan noticed Hugh de Berniers in the line awaiting attention, the small axe still buried in his thigh.

Removing his helm, mail hauberk and gambeson Alan stood in his sweat-drenched and rust-stained tunic. Placing his equipment where he could see it, including his shield and the two swords he now possessed, he poured a bucket of clean water over his head to refresh himself before moving to one of the tables to provide what assistance he could. Roger of Caen noticed him and nodded his appreciation for the assistance.

It was soon dark and they continued work by the light of rush torches. Word was brought to the tent that Harold had been killed, leaving the English leaderless- but still the thegns and huscarles fought on and refused to surrender or run. Later came news that the English line had been destroyed, but a band still stood firm around the body of their dead king.

The churgeon and his assistants were still working steadily through the range of wounds and cases of trauma when there was a stir at the entrance to the tent near midnight. Duke William walked in, striding alongside a blanket on which the recumbent Eustace of Boulogne was being carried. Alan called them over, “Vacant table here, this poor fellow just gave up the Ghost as Roger was removing his leg. What’s the problem?” he asked as he washed the blood off his hands.

“Blow to the back of the head, bleeding from the mouth and nose- and he hasn’t recovered consciousness,” said William, who then looked more carefully at Alan. “You again!”

“Yes, I thought that after I’d lost my horse I’d do better helping here,” said Alan as Eustace was deposited on the table. “I think you got your half-shilling’s worth from me today!”

After a few minutes of examination of the back of Eustace’s head, pupils and pulse Roger said, “Well, obviously he’s suffered blunt trauma to the head. The skull is probably fractured, but certainly isn’t crushed. He’s likely to be in a coma for some time, perhaps two or three days. After that his wits are likely to be muddled for some days, but he should recover from that well enough, in time. Firstly, he needs to lie quietly abed for a few days.”

William nodded solemnly and said to Alan, “Come and see me tomorrow at Sext at the abbey at Hastings. I’m likely to be busy so it may be some time during the afternoon before I can see you. I’ll have Eustace sent back to Hastings now.”

After William departed Alan decided that he’d also had enough, collected his gear and found his tent, which Gillard had pitched nearby. Robert de Aumale was asleep inside, wrapped up in his cloak. Hugh was lying unconscious on a straw mattress, his leg thickly bandaged. Gillard was just leaving the tent and admitted that he was dropping off a load of goods that he’d looted from the battlefield and asked Alan if he wanted to join him. Although somewhat repelled by the idea, Alan did have to admit that his purse was empty and as Gillard had urged, ‘if he didn’t do it somebody else would’.

A pale moon was rising as they walked back to the battlefield, Alan wearing his new sword. There were hundreds of men walking the battlefield, many working in pairs to strip the coats of mail off the dead. Gillard was disappointed that Alan wouldn’t help him remove coats of mail, but Alan pointed out the amount of time required and the weight of the resulting booty. Gillard was quite happy to rob any body, Norman, French, allied or English.

Alan restricted his activities to the English bodies and, working along the line of the shield-wall, was surprised at how many coins the English thegns and Royal Huscarles carried in their purses and how much gold jewellery they wore. Most wore gold torques, gold brooches to close their cloaks, gold belt buckles, gold arm rings and gold and jewel rings. Within half an hour Alan had collected a small sack of coins and jewellery and, feeling discouraged by his own wickedness, he decided that enough was enough and returned back to the tent where he then hid his hoard.

The next day hundreds thronged the battlefield. Edith Swan-Neck, Harold’s lover, had requested permission to inspect the battlefield near where Harold’s banner had flown, to locate and identify his body. Harold had fought in a hauberk of plain chain-mail and the many bodies around where the banner of ‘The Fighting Man’ had flown were much hacked-about- to the extent that Duke William had been unable to identify the body of his former friend.

Those Englishmen or women who came to the battlefield were allowed to take away their dead, most of whom by now had been stripped naked. Gytha, Harold’s mother, offered Duke William the weight of the body in gold for its return. William declined and after the body was located he handed it over to William Malet, a half-English knight, for burial- although much later William agreed with Gytha for her to receive the body for no payment and to bury it at Harold’s own church of Holy Cross at Waltham in Essex.

Alan spent part of the morning walking the battlefield picking up twenty swords and scabbards which lay around discarded by the dead and wounded in their hundreds, if not thousands.

The Norman dead were being placed in piles for honourable burial. The English dead lay where they had fallen, although William was allowing access by the families of the English warriors to the battlefield to collect and bury their dead. Dozens of English women and unarmed servants roamed the battlefield looking for lost loved ones.

Already the crows were busily picking at the corpses and the stench of corruption hung over the battlefield. At midmorning Alan took his bundle of weapons, armour, goods and possessions and loaded his mule. As he now had no riding horse, he walked beside the mule to Hastings along the dirt track that was busy with traffic proceeding in both directions.

CHAPTER FOUR

HASTINGS OCTOBER 1066

After arriving at the small abbey building at Hastings Alan washed himself briefly in a trough of cold water and changed into his best tunic and hose before he sought out the duke’s steward. This was a harassed looking individual called Corbett, who arranged for Alan’s goods and mule to be taken care of, told him where food and drink were available and directed him to a large waiting-room thronged with people. After eating his first decent meal in six weeks and downing several cups of reasonable wine, Alan returned to the waiting-room, made sure that he notified his presence to the flunky who appeared to be in charge and sat down to wait. It was, as William had indicated it would be, a long wait; after the exertions of the previous day and night Alan was satisfied to lean against the stone wall and doze.

One thing that did surprise him was the lack of monks moving about the abbey. In chatting with others in the waiting-room Alan found that the land and much of the village belonged to the Abbey of Fecamp, but had been seized by Edward the Confessor some years before and the monks had been expelled, some returning with William’s expedition.

Eventually, and before a surprising number of well-dressed and important-looking individuals in the waiting-room, Corbett summoned Alan into the small and sparsely furnished room which William was using as an office. The duke was sitting in a chair with a cup of wine on a small table next to him, well-dressed in a green tunic and hose. Apart from a slightly weary look about the eyes there was no indication that he had been awake for nearly all of the previous thirty-six hours, although he did look every one of his thirty-eight years.

William abruptly said, “It appears that I owe you thanks for several reasons. I assume you are the same Alan de Gauville who de Mandeville named to me as the man who charged the flank of the English when the Bretons broke?”

Alan shrugged. “It seemed a good idea at the time, and the obvious thing to do. If the second rank of horsemen had followed me we might have been able to have forced the shield-wall on that flank, weakened as it was.”

“If you’d tried that you’d be dead- rather than a live hero who stopped the rout,” replied William sardonically. “Not everybody can see the obvious. Fewer still are prepared to take a decision that involves risk, even those who have been soldiers for most of their lives. I assume this was your first battle? I thought so. Secondly, you saved my life. Having the only one life, that is something I on which I place a high value,” he continued with some jocularity. “And you loaned me your horse. You were right, he is a fine beast and he did only have the one more charge in him. He’s down in the stables being pampered, one of only two horses I rode yesterday that survived.”

He picked up a leather purse from the table next to him and tossed it to Alan. “Twenty gold marks as a token of my thanks. When I’m in a position to reward you properly with lands, come and see me again. That’ll depend on how matters go over the next month or so. We crushed the army that Harold raised here in the south and killed the best three English generals- Harold and his two brothers. The remaining earls- Waltheof, Edwin and Morcar- can still raise another army of perhaps 10,000 thegns and fyrdmen, so nothing is settled yet. That depends on my getting reinforcements, which are probably going to be mercenary infantry as I cleaned out most of the mounted men-at-arms before we landed. And I need more horses.”

“How many men did we lose?” asked Alan.

“The best guess at the moment is 1,500 dead and 750 badly wounded,” replied William. “Another 1,000 with lesser wounds, who will return to service in the next few weeks.”

Alan winced. More than a third of William’s army was dead or injured. They may have killed perhaps 3,000 or more Englishmen, but with the survivors of Hastings and the men of the North and West Counties the English could probably gather another 10,000 men- if they could find a general. A second English army would be virtually impossible for William to defeat with the men available.

Following the meeting with Duke William, during the time the army remained at Hastings Alan was busy working the ‘black market’. With the town awash with looted jewellery he decided that his best option was to visit a money-changer in the town. Each gold mark was worth?12, or 240 shillings, a known and certain value. That was a value that with the duke present in the town the money-changer would not dare cheat. Allowing for a small commission he received 235 shillings for each of the two marks he changed.

With probably 3,000 illegally obtained suits of chain mail in the town, their new owners knowing that they would be marching soon and not wanting to carry forty pounds of metal on the march- and most of the looters having at least three or four such suits of mail which would be impossible to carry or hide once the army was on the move- the price of chain mail and other armour and weapons had dropped remarkably in what had become a buyer’s market.

With an eye to the future Alan bought twenty good quality (‘only a little repair needed, Sir Knight’) ex-Norman hauberks at five shillings each, and thirty ex-English byrnies at two shillings each. Another thirty good swords at one shilling to go with the twenty he had collected on the battlefield and fifty helmets (all ex-English, most with no nasal-piece) at ten pence apiece. A total of 231 shillings. With whatever land he might hope to receive for his services, Alan would be in a position to meet his future military obligations at the cost of a pittance paid now. Alan made arrangements with a local merchant for storage, paying three months fee in advance.

William rested his army for five days and then departed, leaving a small garrison at Hastings. Alan remained at Hastings as he had been stricken with a stomach ailment.

William went not to London, but east to Dover on an old Roman road via Benenden, Tenterden and Ashford. He destroyed Romney on the way as punishment for the people of that town massacring the crew and passengers of two ships that had been separated from the invasion fleet and had landed there. Dover, although fortified, surrendered at once. Despite this the Norman troops still burnt the town, much to Duke William’s displeasure as he had given orders to the contrary, and he paid compensation to the burgesses.

At Dover the army was struck down with the gastro-enteritis that had earlier afflicted Alan. After a delay of a week the army marched to Canterbury, when William himself then fell ill and the army paused for a month. During all that time the English were strangely quiescent. The Witengemot had met and elected Edgar the Aetheling as king, the last of the family of Edward the Confessor, despite his being only thirteen years of age- but no actual coronation had taken place.

Of the remaining earls, Edwin was eighteen, Morcar was seventeen and Waltheof of Huntingdon was a little over twenty. Nobody was prepared to take control of the English forces and oppose William.

The Bishops, all but four of whom were English, preached repentance and submission. This was perhaps out of respect of the pope’s support of William, or possibly to protect their own positions.

After he recovered William still didn’t proceed directly to London, although he sent 500 horsemen to test its defences and the attitude of its people. With the people of London opposing them at Southwark William decided to bide his time and, rather than to force a passage over London Bridge, he instructed his forces to take a round-about route using fords upriver, and to create fear in the hearts of the Londoners while restricting supplies of food reaching the city by harrying the land to the north.

While the main force of the Norman army waited at Nutfield, William proceeded to Winchester where he received the first important submission- that of Queen Edith, widow of Edward the Confessor and sister of Harold. With reinforcements landed at Portsmouth, and with Edith’s agreement, William took control of Portsmouth without opposition. From there he proceeded to Oxford where he received the submission of the first of Edgar the Aetheling’s party, Stigand the Archbishop of Canterbury.

Next William moved on to Hertford, twenty miles due north of London. During this time his army left a trail of devastation and destruction twenty miles wide, frightening the English and showing his ruthlessness. Finally the English made up their minds and a deputation was received by William near Hertford, when the uncrowned king Edgar, Earl Waltheof, Ealdred Archbishop of York, most of the other bishops, many of the land’s few remaining nobles and the principal residents of London came to swear oath and give hostages to William.

During this peregrination of nearly six weeks Alan remained at Hastings recovering from his own illness. By then most of the injured men had been discharged, either recovered sufficiently well to return to their homes on the continent or, in many cases, dead. To Alan’s delight and surprise, the surgery on Hugh de Berniers had been successful and he had retained his leg, although he would never ride a horse to battle again and had returned to Normandy.

CHAPTER FIVE

LONDON DECEMBER 1066

On the afternoon of Christmas Day 1066 Alan was standing with Robert de Aumale near the rear wall of Westminster Abbey watching the coronation service of King William I of England. The church was packed with every pew taken and every inch of space crammed with people, almost all men. It was freezing cold and the stone walls seemed to suck out what little heat the packed bodies could generate. The breath of each person caused a momentary cloud before their faces. The unwashed packed humanity gave off a sour smell that not even the clouds of incense arising from the altar could cover. With an overcast and chill day outside, the light was dim in the abbey despite the hundreds of candles lit near the altar.

Alan pulled his cloak closer about him and rubbed his gloved hands together. After months of hard travel his cloak and even his ‘best’ clothes were showing signs of wear.

William was dressed magnificently in red velvet. Attended by Archbishop Ealdred of York he swore to uphold the laws of England and rule the people justly. As William had taken the Crown by conquest, the congregation which included the great nobles of Normandy and England and the lesser nobles, King’s Thegns and Officers of England were asked firstly by Geoffrey, Bishop of Coutances in French and then by Archbishop Ealdred in English whether they accepted William as king.

The first roar of approval was loud. With the second, in their enthusiasm to show their loyalty, the English shout was nearly enough to bring down the walls. A few minutes later, as the Archbishop proceeded with the ceremony, walking to a table to take up the small bottle of chrism, there was shouting outside and the smell of smoke drifted into the abbey.

Alan looked at Robert and raised his eyebrows before giving a shrug and leading the way towards the door, just as a dozen or so armed Norman infantry ran in.

Once outside they could see soldiers on one side of the forecourt holding burning torches and apparently setting fire to buildings. Several houses were already well alight. There was a large group of local people gathered for the ceremony, and a number were sprawled on the ground injured or dead. Whatever the mood of the crowd may have been minutes earlier, now it was sullen and angry. As he ran the fifty or so paces towards the group of soldiers, who numbered about twenty, Alan roared at them “What in the name of Christ do you think you’re doing?”

One, who appeared to be a sergeant, turned from his task with a burning torch still in his hand and shouted back “The English are attacking the king in the Hall! They’re rioting here! We’re creating a distraction to save him!”

By then Alan and Robert had reached the group of men, who were now standing watching the exchange. “Fool!” shouted Robert “We’ve just come from the Hall. There is no attack. The shouting was part of the ceremony.”

“You men, put out those torches and organise a bucket brigade to put out those fires!” ordered Alan. By now a considerable number of Englishmen had gathered. Most were watching the Normans with ill-concealed animosity- not surprising given that they had just started to burn down houses. A few of those who were quicker of wit were already running up with buckets of water and dashing them against the flames of those houses that were alight.

“I don’t speak the language of these animals and anyway I don’t take orders from fancy-dressed bastards like you!” snarled the sergeant in reply.

In a blur of movement Alan’s sword rasped out of its scabbard and he struck in one continuous motion. The head of the Sergeant bounced against a whitewashed wall in a spray of blood. There was a murmur of approval from the crowd. “Does anybody else want to challenge my authority?” demanded Alan. “No? Then move your arses and get those fires put out now!” Alan shouted instructions to the crowd and soon a chain of eighty or so men were passing buckets between a nearby well and the fires. After about half an hour the fires were under control and nearly out. Alan and Robert went to return back to the Coronation ceremony, but were just in time to see the prelates and newly-crowned king filing out of the abbey.

Despite the festive season Alan was able to find a tailor and a cordwainer, both on Cordwainer Street, to make him a new tunic and hose and a new pair of boots. His clothing and boots had been poor enough quality previously and had been worn out by heavy service over the last few months. With London packed for the coronation Alan and Robert were sharing a room in a shabby inn on Threadneedle Street at Alan’s expense, using the money that he had recently obtained. Gillard slept in the hayloft above where the three horses and the mule were stabled at the rear of the inn.

With Hugh de Berniers gone and the remains of his squadron split up to make up losses in the other cavalry squadrons of Geoffrey de Mandeville, no fighting was on immediate offer. With little booty as yet handed out to the Barons, de Mandeville’s victualler the Frenchman Michel de Boulogne had, if anything, become even more mean and irregular in his payment of wages.

Alan had also used the time spent on London to have the gold jewellery he had looted melted down into four-ounce ingots by a goldsmith in Wood Street and sold the rings and jewels to a pawnbroker in a side street just east of the Chepe Market.

While the newly-crowned king’s castle was being raised on the south-eastern edge of the city next to the River Thames, with a large number of houses and other buildings demolished to make space, William was residing outside the city at nearby Barking, in a manor now vacant as the thegn who had previously held it had died in one or another of Harold’s battles.

Two other fortified places were being raised by barons in the south-west corner of the city close to the river, Baynards’s castle and Montfitchet Tower. William recognised the importance of the city and its large and traditionally bellicose population. He was determined to keep it under control. Unfortunately, the forced demolition of many houses and other buildings to create the three fortifications did little to improve the mood of the city’s people.

William often held court at the abbey and Old Palace complex at Westminster. It was there on the 29th December that Alan, resplendent in new clothes of fine burgundy-coloured wool, presented himself to Corbett, William’s steward to remind him of William’s promise. Corbett told him to return the following evening, after Vespers, when it was likely that William would be able to see him, depending on how events of the day had proceeded.

Evidently the day had proceeded well. William and a party of nobles had hunted with success in the forest to the north-west, near Kensington and Hanwell. Alan was ushered into a room of medium size where William lounged in a relaxed fashion in a chair, with two monks acting as scriveners sitting at small tables with pen, ink and parchment. By their appearance one was English and one French. After giving Alan a long look up and down, he waved at a chair nearby. “It appears that you have used well some of the money I gave you,” he said. Alan gave a respectful inclination of the head in reply. “I hear that a tall knight, dressed as you used to dress and with red hair, stopped the foot-soldiers of Eustace of Boulogne from burning down Westminster on Christmas Day.”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” replied Alan. “The fools seemed to think that there was a riot going on in the abbey and that setting fire to the forecourt was a suitable response. I had to chastise the sergeant in charge.”

“Yes, Eustace wasn’t happy about that, but I told him I wasn’t happy about the actions of his men either. It appears that here in England you are my good-luck charm popping up wherever and whenever needed. Now to business! I promised you a suitable reward when I was in a position to do so, as I now am. I have a busy few weeks ahead. I’m due to meet with Edwin and the thegns of Mercia, Morcar and at least some of his Northumbrians, and the thegns of Shropshire in a week, so I’d best get my other obligations out of the way.

“Aethelbald has been checking which thegns were killed at Hastings, Fulford and Stamford- and therefore whose land is vacant. At the moment he’s covered Middlesex, Surrey, Kent, Hertfordshire- and Essex. There was a King’s Thegn called Wulfwin who owned much land in Essex. I’m not feeling generous enough to give you all that land. That would make you a baron- which is an honour you have not yet earned. But he held three manors in Tendring Hundred. Another thegn, Alfred Kemp, held three and one called Estan another. They’ll make a reasonable and compact demesne. Aethelbald, how many hides of land? Thirty-six and a half? I’m introducing a standard quota of six hides per mounted man-at-arms, so your quota will be six.

“I understand that all the manors are what the English call ‘bokland’, or ‘landboc’, although two have been let out to other thegns under some system I find both unpronounceable and unintelligible. You’ll own the land on the same terms as the previous owners, and as tenant-in-chief from me. That will make you a barones regis, which I hope is an honour you will appreciate. I also grant you the right to hold the Hundred court and the one-third entitlement to the fines apparently known as ‘the third penny’. I appreciate your fresh thoughts and I think I would benefit from hearing points of view other than those of my barons and earls, so I also intend to make you a member of my Council, the Curia Regis, which will meet irregularly as I decide, but several times a year.

“As to the rest of England, and this includes Essex, I’m appointing earls to the various holdings of the English earls, particularly those formerly held by the Godwin family. The English will continue to hold their land, subject to paying me a ‘Redemption Relief’ for failing to support me in my taking the Crown, either as bokland or laenland, provided that they maintain their historical obligations, which I understand varies in virtually every case but has always included military service. Effectively they are paying what we Normans refer to as Relief, and the English refer to as a Heriot. It’s interesting how little practical difference there is in land holdings between the two systems. The earls will hold their lands as fiefs or honours at my pleasure and with a Relief payable on succession, not as alods. I expect most will grant at least some of their demesne land and some of the land which now, or in the future, has no holder, as fiefs for military service. You’ll hold your land in landboc and not able to be taken from you without proper cause.

“I’m also changing the administration of the shires. The sheriffs will have greater authority and duties. Officials such as those of the king’s household, the Stallers and the like, will be phased out. The new sheriff of Essex will be Robert fitzWymarc, a half-Breton who came to England in Edward’s time, in place of Leofstan the Reeve who was killed at Hastings. He’s raising a royal castle at Colchester, under my charter- at his expense.”

“Can I raise a castle?” asked Alan.

“If the situation warrants it and you can bear the cost of building one yourself,” William replied, waving his hand at the French clerk to include that in the document before him, before he continued his discussion of his Great Design. “The geld tax on land will be reintroduced, at the same rate as King Edward levied it prior to 1015. Two shillings per hide. Aethelbald, how much would Alan have to pay?”

“With ninety-six and a half hides, that is?9 12s a year, payable quarterly in arrears on the Feast of the Annunciation, Christmas, Midsummer Day and Michaelmas,” replied Aethelbald.

Alan was quick enough of wit to pick up the change. “So, unlike in Normandy, we are to provide both military service and taxes, which I understand were previously used to bribe the Danes to stay away, so military service was not needed. That’ll be a heavy impost. Men-at-arms are expensive to maintain. You mentioned that the English will have to pay a Redemption Relief. I presume that doesn’t apply to us Normans who came with you? How much would that be?” asked Alan.

“No it doesn’t apply to those who came with me, or after we landed- but it does include those Normans and any other foreigners who held land during Edward’s time, as well as the English. The general rate will be set by Commissioners I appoint, probably around?5 per manor, payable within a year of my Coronation, That will be by Christmas Day next year. If they don’t pay their lands will be forfeit.”

“Many of those who have to pay the Redemption Relief, as well as the taxes, will struggle to do so, particularly at those rates and in that time. Many will be forced to forfeit their land. Have you thought of a lesser tax rate or lesser Relief rate?” asked Alan.

“No,” replied William simply. “England is mine to do with as I wish and it’s a rich land. If some men forfeit their land for non-payment that simply means more land is available to myself or the Earls to give away as fiefs or to sell. I don’t see any difficulty caused to the English landholders as being a matter for concern to me. It’s their fault for supporting Harold instead of myself after Edward died a year ago. We Normans are all going to have to stand together and keep a wary eye on the English, or they’ll have us all out of the country in a trice. Anything that reduces the English nobility’s ability to raise and pay for an army is a good thing for us,” said William revealingly.

Seeing that the king’s mind was firmly decided and that any further argument would be useless, Alan desisted. William was used to the exercise of autocratic rule and, whilst he would always listen to advice, he would frequently reject it.

“So, do you accept?” asked William abruptly.

Alan blinked in surprise at the question, realizing after a few moments that it related to the offer of land to him. “Of course, the offer, and particularly the honour of the attached rights of tenant-in-chief, jurisdiction and member of your Council, is most generous,” he replied.

“Done!” said William, who gestured to the French scrivener, who completed a few more details on a parchment and poured heated red wax at the bottom, to which William affixed his seal and then opened his hands in a gesture indicating Alan should approach him.

Alan knelt before William. William asked, “Did you do homage to de Mandeville when you joined his forces?”

Alan smiled and replied, “No, he was too busy to see me, then or after.” William nodded and, led by Aethelbald, Alan recited the oath of homage and fealty. A man could swear homage to only one man, but could swear fealty to several for different fiefs, although that had the potential to cause difficulties.

“In the name of the Lord, I, Alan de Gauville do acknowledge to William, king of England, the fealty and homage for the manors of Thorrington, Bradfield, Ramsey, Dovercourt, Beaumont, Great Oakley and Great Bromley. I have made to my liege lord William, king of England, acknowledgment and homage as I ought to do. Therefore, let all present and to come know that I, the said Alan de Gauville, acknowledge verily to thee my lord William, by the grace of God king of England, and to thy successors, that I hold and ought to hold as a fief the said manors and I swear upon these four gospels of God that I will always be a faithful vassal to thee and to thy successors in all things in which a vassal is required to be faithful to his lord. I will defend thee, my lord, and all thy successors against all malefactors and invaders, at my request and that of my successors at my own cost. And if I or my sons or their successors do not observe to thee or to thy successors each and all the things declared above, and should come against these things, we wish that all the aforesaid fiefs should by that very fact be handed over to thee and to thy successors. I, therefore, I the aforesaid lord Alan declare that I will be good and faithful lord concerning all those things described above.”

Alan, kneeling before William placed his hands forward in a praying position, and William took his hands between his own, accepting the oath, before buffeting him on the shoulder.

“I acknowledge you as my man and shall care for your interests as I care for my own,” replied William, sealing the bargain.

The scribe Aethelbald held the Charter out to Alan for him to stand and collect. “That will be one gold mark,” said Aethelbald.

“The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away,” replied Alan with a smile.

With a chuckle William waved a hand at Aethelbald and said, “Don’t bother! You can forgo your own fee in this instance!”

CHAPTER SIX

THORRINGTON, ESSEX. JANUARY 1067

There was light snow on the ground as Alan rode into the village of Thorrington in the Hundred of Tendring in northern Essex, with four Norman men-at-arms at his back. They were the swordsmen Hugh and Baldwin, and Roger and Warren the archers. An English gebur with a light donkey cart hired in London, which carried their goods, trailed slightly behind. They had ridden the 64 miles from London to Colchester over two days, resting at Chelmsford. The road had passed through the immensity of the Waltham Forest, in which the villages of Barking, South Weald, Ingatestone and Margaretting were tiny and trivial intrusions by man into the world of nature- insignificant pockets of cleared land in an immense wilderness.

The great expanse of woodland through which the rutted and muddy dirt track that was the main road had wandered had been relatively open, with the upper storey of branches bare for the winter. Massive oak and elm trees, and the white trunks of smaller silver birch, stretched for mile after mile. Because of the dense shade cast by the trees in summer the forest was virtually clear of bushes and undergrowth, with only the trunks of the trees and the occasional fallen giant limiting visibility to 100 paces or so.

Occasionally fallow deer or muntjac had been seen either flitting through the trees or foraging for nuts lying on the ground. Squirrels and hares darted about and game birds occasionally burst into flight as the riders approached. Overhead an occasional hawk had been seen circling looking for prey.

Travellers had been few and far between. Alan’s party had overtaken a few groups on foot or slow-moving wagons drawn by oxen, the oxen occasionally being whipped by their handlers to keep them moving. In the forest most travellers moved in groups of usually of a dozen or more for safety.

It was not until they reached the more open country and arrived at the River Can at Chelmsford, where the road emerged from the great forest, that the hand of man could be seen with any regularity. Even then the land was mainly forest, woodland and waste between Witham and Braxted before the road passed into Lexden Hundred and proceeded through Feering, Stanway and Lexden before it eventually arrived at Colchester.

The traffic on the road had increased after Chelmsford, with travellers being there prepared to journey alone. Roughly dressed peasants and the poorer townsfolk and villagers had walked on foot. Merchants travelled on wagons with their goods. Hawkers walked on their way from village to village either with their goods on their backs, or those selling heavier or more bulky items using a small cart which they either pulled themselves or used a donkey or mule. Only very occasionally had the more wealthy been seen on horseback, and then usually with a handful of retainers with them. After leaving the forest the villages had been five to ten miles apart, with the cultivated land encompassing perhaps one mile on each side of the village.

They had stayed overnight at an inn in Colchester, before the next morning, the third of their journey, leaving the town at daybreak. They crossed the wooden bridge over the River Colne after paying the pontage fee and rode the six miles to Thorrington in a little over an hour, passing through the villages of Wivenhoe and Alresford on the way.

On riding through each village and town since leaving London they had felt the hostile eyes of the local population on them. The few workers out and about in the fields near Thorrington stopped their winter work of gathering wood or repairing fences and stared at the strangers as they rode past, although Alan presumed that in such an isolated area they would have done so with any passers-by.

It was Tuesday the 16th of January and a bitterly cold day. The frozen ground crunched at each step taken, and the breath of man and beast hung in the still air before them. The men sat slumped on their saddles, wrapped tightly in their thick woollen cloaks.

Despite the feeling of hostility all around them, Alan had insisted that they ride without armour. He was determined that if he was going to live in this land he was not going to live in fear of an arrow in the back. However, all five had kept their swords handy and loose in their scabbards.

Alan noted that the village of Thorrington was arranged around the usual village green, with a tavern and a small wooden church with the tithe-barn alongside. There were probably thirty cottages facing the dirt track that ran around the village green, nearly all with a small vegetable garden at the rear and many with a pig-pen or chicken coop, and often both. There was a large barn and a granary. Snow sat heavily on thatched roofs and here and there it had been blown by the wind into drifts several feet deep on the ground. Smoke rose from the stone chimney of the smithy and the regular banging of metal on metal could be heard. A stream, the beginnings of Alresford Creek, ran through the village, with a little wooden bridge over it. Just downstream of the village was the mill, its water wheel turning lazily. At the far side of the village was the manor house fortified in the usual Saxon style with a wooden palisade surrounding the Hall and its outbuildings at a distance of about twenty paces.

Beyond the village, about half a mile away near the tidal headwaters of Barfleet Creek, was the salt-house that serviced the salt pans on the flat tidal land next to Alresford Creek, Barfleet Creek and, further away, the Colne estuary near the mouth of Alresford Creek.

All the buildings in the village were of cob or half-wood construction with thatched roofs. The Hall was quite large, about forty paces long and twenty wide. Its walls were neatly lime-washed and pierced by four windows on each side, the shutters closed to keep out the winter cold. Smoke rose lazily from a small hole centrally located in the roof, and also escaped in a tendrils from the thatched roof. A stable-hand could be seen at work mucking out the stables and forking new straw into each stall. The kitchen was a separate building located about ten paces from the Hall, to minimise the risk of fire and also to keep the bustle, noise and smell of the cooking away from the nobles in the Hall.

They dismounted just inside the palisade without being challenged and having seen no guard. Alan called for the stable hand to come and take the five horses, instructing him in slow but understandable English to rub them down, water and feed them. He clapped his gloved hands together to restore circulation in the bitter cold- he had been hardly able to feel the leather straps of the reins during the ride. The noise of their arrival had attracted a small crowd and when he turned to face them Alan called out in Anglo-Saxon English, “Who’s the senior here?”

A small man with long brown hair and about thirty years of age, looking a little like a weasel and dressed traditionally in a woollen tunic with breeches and cross-leggings advanced to the front of the crowd and said, “That would be me, Sir. My name is Kendrick. What can I do for you?”

“You are aware that the former owner of this estate, Estan, died at Hastings with no heir. The king has given this estate to me and I’ve come to claim it,” said Alan. “These are my men Hugh, Baldwin, Roger and Warren. They speak little English, so some patience will be required on both sides until they learn. Now let’s get inside out of this damn cold!”

On walking inside Alan saw that most of the building was comprised of the usual single Hall, but that somewhat unusually one end of the building had been divided off into two rooms. The light in the Hall was dim, mainly cast by a roaring central fire and a few smoking rush torches set into brackets on the posts that ran in two rows down the Hall, supporting the roof. The smoke from the fire and rushes cast a haze in the air and caught at the throat. The Hall was sparsely furnished with a few benches and tables, mainly drawn near the central fireplace; a thick layer of reasonably fresh rushes were underfoot. A quick look through the door into each of the rooms showed one to be a bedchamber with a large bed and the other a solar or private sitting room.

“Firstly, show me the strong-box and give me the key,” Alan ordered Kendrick.

As was usual the strongbox was in the bedchamber, and once he had secured the key Alan was not sufficiently ill-mannered to check what it contained before he spoke to the Hall staff. Alan had Kendrick call the staff together, asked each their names and addressed them together, letting them know that, provided they performed their duties properly, their positions were secure. Alan then asked Kendrick to call a meeting of all the freemen of the village the following day, to be held at the tithe-barn at noon with the church bell to be rung before the meeting, and before that for Alan to meet with both the village head-man Tolland, a wealthy cheorl, and also the village priest.

Next Alan went into the bedchamber and used the key to open the strongbox. There was very little money in the box, less than?1, and no books of account. Most importantly it contained the ownership records for the manor, the landboc, confirming the grant of land to Estan by King Edward. Alan went back out into the Hall and sat on a bench at a scrubbed wooden table near the fire, still with his thick green woollen cloak wrapped around him as he ate a bowl of thick vegetable pottage and warmed his hands on a cup of mulled ale.

When he had finished eating he collected the bottle of ink that he had set by the fire to thaw, and a quill and parchment from his bag, before returning to the table and queried Kendrick about the accounts. He was told that there were no books of account, Kendrick using the ‘poor illiterate and ignorant servant’ routine. On being pressed Kendrick agreed that perhaps there were some books that Estan had kept and promised to look for them amongst his former master’s possessions.

Alan then had Kendrick sit and specify the obligations of each cheorl, sokeman, gebur and cottar and the names and details of each slave, while he made notes with quill and ink on parchment for future reference.

That night Alan slept in the bedchamber. His men slept in the solar and took turns to stand guard outside the adjacent doors of the two rooms, while the remainder slept.

At Terce the following morning Tolland arrived. Life in the country was more difficult than life in the city for several reasons; one being the difficulty in arranging and attending meetings. In the absence of abbey bells ringing every three hours, time was largely a matter of mutual consent.

Tolland was a large and strongly built man of middle years with dark hair. He was a wealthy freeman, as was shown by the well-made but not ostentatious brown woollen tunic and trews that he wore. He brought with him his deputy, Erian the Taverner, a portly man of medium height.

Alan grasped forearms with both and invited them to sit at the high table and eat and drink as they talked. Alan had Tolland give a general description of the village and its inhabitants and the way that cultivation of the land occurred. “This looks like a prosperous and well-run community. I have two ploughs and teams, and the men of the village have three,” said Alan. “There are four hides of land- that is 480 acres, of which about one third is in my demesne. The king has decreed that geld will again be payable, and the village assessment is 8 shillings a year. One third of that is payable by me. That’s two shillings and seven pence. The rest is payable by the freemen of the village, payable in instalments each Quarter Day. For the freemen of the village to pay the geld each Quarter Day, the first on Lady Day in just under three months, is likely to take food from the mouths and clothes from the backs of your villagers. That is not in the interests of either myself or the villagers, who I see as being my people.”

Toland frowned and nodded his acknowledgement of what Alan had said. “Why the imposition of the geld, after fifteen years? I would have thought with the coming of the Normans we would be safer from attack by the Danes, rather than more vulnerable. Does the king intend to reintroduce the fleet that Edward paid off fifteen years ago, and hire more huscarles?” asked Tolland astutely.

“I doubt it,” replied Alan honestly. “It’s a revenue-raising exercise that we all must pay, Norman and English alike. In addition, I have to provide six mounted and armoured men-at-arms for forty days a year- not just from this village but from all the manors I have been given in this Hundred. At least myself, and the villagers in my honour, do not have to pay the Heriot that many of the thegns and even the Church will have to pay. In the end it is the freemen who suffer, as all the wealth of the land comes from their efforts. What is my problem is also the problem of the village, down to the lowest slave. And vice versa- what is the village’s problem is my problem, as I’m responsible for all that happens here. So we have a problem that affects us all.

“As you know, I’ve called a village meeting for later today. I would suggest that you seek the counsel of the other senior cheorls in the village. My suggestion is that what we should do is to increase production so that we have more to sell and can pay the taxes. I see three ways we can do this.

“Firstly, there is waste land outside the area that the village now cultivates, which can relatively easily be brought into cultivation. It is further away and less fertile than the land currently used, but at least we won’t have to clear it of trees as this Hundred is largely open land.

“Secondly, we can increase the number of saltpans we have in operation. Currently I have one on the estuary, one on Alresford Creek and two on Barfleet Creek. Over the next few weeks I’ll be using the labour owed to me to build another salt-pan for my demesne in each location. Salt is a high-value item that we can all sell easily. I suggest that the village also increases its salt pans. I understand it has two pans on the estuary, one on Alresford Creek and three on Barfleet Creek. Unless we have a particularly wet summer the salt pans bring in a good and regular income with minimal work.” Alan didn’t mention that all of the salt would be processed through his salt house, with him retaining ten percent of the salt processed for other producers.

“Thirdly, I’ll be changing my demesne land over from the two-field cultivation system to the three-field system that is becoming common on the continent. Instead of two fields, one in cultivation and one lying fallow, there are three. One is planted for winter wheat and barley, one is planted with spring crops such as wheat, oats, barley, or rye and the third is either left fallow or preferably planted with legumes- beans and alfalfa. This increases the land under cultivation by one third. The planting rate is also to be increased on my land from two bushels of seed per acre to three. With proper fertilizing and marling of the land I can get six times the seed return for wheat, or more, instead of the usual four. I’ll have just over 100 acres of land under cultivation each year instead of 70 and I’ll more than double the number bushels I harvest, with little impact of labour because the ploughings and plantings take place twice a year, but each occupies less time.”

Tolland was an intelligent man who could read and write. Moreover, like all farmers he could count and could calculate bushels per acre in his head. However, again like all farmers, he was also very conservative. What had been good enough for his grandfather on the same land should be good enough for him. However, he did appreciate the need to increase village income to pay the new tax, or suffer reduced living standards in good years and starvation in bad years. He promised to discuss the ideas with the other village elders and raise the matter at the folkmoot called by him at Alan’s request later that day.

Next Alan met with the parish priest, Brother Godwine. Brother Godwine attended in his own good time, coming late- perhaps in the hope of an invitation to the mid-day meal. In this he was disappointed as Alan was less than impressed with the man whose parish took in the villages of Thorrington, Brightlingsea, Frating, Frowick Hall and another of Alan’s manors at Great Bentley, which was laenland leased by a thegn called Swein.

Brother Godwine was fat, which Alan could accept. However, he couldn’t accept the priest’s unctuous and falsely servile manner, and his lack of personal hygiene with his cassock dirty from accumulated food-stains and odiferous from both the garment and its owner being unwashed. The lack of learning of the priest and his simple stupidity were also not acceptable to Alan. He had also gathered from comments made by Kendrick that the priest kept a mistress at Frating. The priest was also lazy, in that with Tendring as a central location, Brightlingsea at three and a half miles was the greatest distance he had to travel and the other villages were only two miles away- yet Brother Godwine performed Sunday Mass in only one village each week.

Alan informed him in no uncertain terms that this was not acceptable and that Mass would be said in Thorrington each Sunday morning at Terce at midmorning, Great Bentley at Sext at noon and in one other village at None at mid-afternoon. The remaining village would have Mass said on one other day of the week, or in summer on Sunday at Vespers in the evening.

Alan also instructed Brother Godwine that he would attend each of the villages for one day a week to visit the ill and infirm, give them the sacraments individually, hear confessions and tend to the poor and wealthy alike. Brother Godwine was horrified to hear that he was apparently expected to work for the benefice that was within Alan’s power to maintain or withdraw, together with the income the priest received from both the tithes that all in the area paid into his tithe-barn and the produce from the strips in the village fields allocated to him but worked on his behalf by the villagers. He had an easy life with virtually all the work required to maintain him in comfort being performed by others.

Brother Godwine bleated about the time taken to travel from place to place and the very onerous nature of his duties. Alan’s reply was unsympathetic and cold. “You are not owed a living, and a rich living, by this parish. You earn it, just as every other man in the parish earns what he receives. As regards travel, buy a hackney or a mule. That’ll get you from one village to the next in less than half an hour. God knows that you can afford it just from the tithes you receive just from my estate. If you prefer, I can give you one as my next month’s tithe payment. Your onerous duties? Try spending more time tending to your flock and less time tending to your mistress in Frating- more time in church hearing confessions and performing Mass and less time in bed fornicating and sinning. You can either modify your ways or find another position. This is my first and final warning to you.”

The folkmoot was held on the village green, as not just the freemen of the village wanted to attend, but also their womenfolk and children of all ages. Even the few slaves were there, and Alan allowed them to remain rather than chasing them off to work. Fortunately the weather remained clear, but cold.

Alan stood on a couple of wooden boxes which had been put together under the Old Oak tree, now bare for the winter, in the middle of the green. “Welcome to the free-folk of Thorrington, men and women both! Cheorls, geburs, sokemen and cottars! Thank you for spending your time to come to listen to the important information that I have to give you.

“Firstly I’ll say the obvious. Last year the Normans, and others, came to this land in war. Earlier in the year there were battles in the north. Then the Normans fought against Harold Godwinson and his army at Hastings, where they prevailed. Some see this as being as a result of Pope Alexander’s blessing of William of Normandy’s claim and the fact that William’s army fought under the papal banner at Hastings. For whatever reason, the Normans won a victory.

“Harold and his brothers lie dead and buried. William has been anointed king of England by Ealdred, the same Archbishop of York who crowned Harold, with the acclamation of all there present, including many English nobles.” There was a dead and clearly unhappy silence when Alan paused. “England has been invaded many times over the years by several nations, and each has appointed its own king and had its own nobility take control of the country. That is the same this time. I’ve been appointed by King William as owner of this village, and much of Tendring Hundred. At least I do speak some English! Had the Norwegians prevailed your Norse lord may not have done so. My men Hugh, Baldwin, Warren and Roger are learning the language, so please bear with their ignorance as they learn.

“Your status has not changed. Those nobles who were thegns before remain thegns. Those who were cheorls remain cheorls, and so on. Your freedom and your rights have not altered. All but the slaves remain geburs, freemen. The laws of Edward and his predecessors still apply to you. The frithbogh system of pledges for each other’s good behaviour remains, as do the fines and wergild of Edward. Indeed, King William is reinforcing the frithbogh tithing by having lords and royal officials ensure that all men belong to a frithbogh.” There was a growing murmur of discussion and general relief at this point. “Let me make it clear that the Normans are not subject to English laws. They are subject to Norman laws, which in many cases are much more harsh. If an Englishman kills unlawfully, he and his frithbogh pay wergild of 200 shillings. If a Norman is convicted of killing unlawfully, including killing an Englishman, the penalty is hanging- with no option of wergild or bot.

“Now to the bad news. You’ll have to deal with the fact that Normans control this land, under God and the Law. Most Normans are arrogant, ruthless and care little or nothing for those of a lesser social level. I hope that that’s not true of me and my men, but is a general fact that you will have to deal with. And for the worst news of all. The geld tax has been reintroduced, the first instalment is due on Lady Day on 25th March. The assessment for this village is 3 shillings. One third of that will be paid by me, as I own one third of the land. The rest will be payable by the freemen of the village.

“I will be making changes to the way that my demesne land is farmed, to increase productivity so that I can pay my share of the taxes without suffering undue hardship. I’ll also be building more saltpans for my demesne and taking to plough some of the waste-land outside the village land, land that is some distance away and is of marginal fertility. I understand that Tolland and the village elders will be addressing you after I finish and I’ll then leave you to your deliberations.

“However, before that are two other issues. Firstly, Brother Godwine will be presenting Mass every Sunday at the church here at Terce, and will spend each Tuesday ministering to the ill and those in need in this village. Secondly, I’m looking for warriors. Twenty men who will fight on horseback in the Norman fashion, equipped and trained by me, to be employed full- time. That includes me providing horse, armour and weapons, food and accommodation and half a shilling a week. I also require twenty archers, who will spend an initial short period of training and then train for half a day twice a week and be available to my call- otherwise they’ll be free to pursue their normal occupation. If any men feels a call to do something other than walk behind a plough, see Kendrick. We’ll also arrange regular training for the fyrd members on Sundays. Now I’ll leave you to Tolland and the elders to discuss together the issues I’ve raised.” Alan raised a hand in farewell, stepped off the boxes and with a nod to Tolland he and the other Normans walked off to the manor house.

Back at Thorrington Hall, just before dark at a little after four in the afternoon, Kendrick advised Alan that Tolland would like to meet with him and would arrive shortly. In the interim Hugh had a word with Alan. “Kendrick tells me that we have ten potential volunteers as bowmen and four men who wanted to train full-time as cavalry, all of whom can already ride. Do you want to interview them, or should I?” asked Hugh. “Right, I’ll do it in the morning. Lack of suitable horses for further volunteers is going to be a problem shortly as there were only five horses in the stables until we arrived with our five beasts.”

When Tolland arrived he was glad of the offer of a cup of hot mulled wine and passed on the information of the outcome of the folkmoot. “The geburs recognise that we’ll all have to work a bit harder to pay our taxes. Your suggestion about the extra saltpans was accepted well. They’ll need some labour to set up, but that shouldn’t be too hard to do on the flat low-lying land next to the current pans. Once that’s done the salt harvest in early autumn is easy. Planting peas, beans and alfalfa in the fallow fields also makes sense to us, both to improve the soil and provide either crops or better grazing for the animals. But, while we can see the theoretical benefits of a change to the three-field system of agriculture, we are traditional and know what works. Most think why should we change something that works? We’ll provide some extra ‘boon days’ of labour, free of charge, to help you implement your plans on the demesne land if needed and wait and see what is the outcome of your experiment.”

“That’s good news,” said Alan. “I appreciate the offer of labour and of course I’ll supply the usual food and drink on any labour days. I also appreciate it’s difficult for men to change their habits and embrace new practices until they are proven to be of value. I’m also prepared to make an offer and will waive my usual rights as landowner regarding minor game. Village men will be permitted to freely take hares, squirrels, fox and pigeons, and what fish they can take from the shore of the estuary or the banks of the creeks by use of hook and line. This excludes the larger wild game and game birds, of course, and is to be only for the use of the family of the villager who does the hunting- no barter or sale, except of skins. That should put meat into nearly every pot in the village at least several times a week.”

Tolland, taken somewhat by surprise by the generous offer, expressed his gratitude. By law, both Anglo-Saxon and Norman, all game whether great or small was reserved to the lord of the manor. Many of the villagers engaged in the occasional minor poaching, but the right to freely take the smaller wildlife would significantly increase the amount of meat available to the villagers and provide a more varied and healthier diet.

All in all the discussion had given something for everybody and Alan expected much goodwill to flow from the waiving of rights on minor game. Everybody likes something for nothing and in the context of the village food supply this was a significant concession by him as lord. From a personal perspective Alan saw it as costing him nothing as there were ample fish in the river and sea and he was not interested in eating hares and squirrels. He also intended to plant most of his own fallow land with beans and allow the villagers to harvest them before the beasts were allowed to graze. The legumes would improve the soil, and the improved diet of the villagers would increase the amount of work each man and woman could perform. ‘Everybody a winner,’ mused Alan.

Next day Alan, Baldwin and Warren rode out to Great Bentley and Tendring, meeting with Swein, who held Great Bentley on laen from Alan, and a courtesy call on the thegns of Tendring. These were Frewin, who held just half a hide of land, some 60 acres, and also Alfward. Ednoth, the other major landholder, lived on his larger estate at Little Oakley. Swein appeared not to be disconcerted to have a Norman as his new lord, although unsurprisingly was disgruntled about the geld tax that would cost him?6 a year. Alan made a number of suggestions about increasing the manor income to help cover the impost, but Swein appeared to be a man who did not understand the land or its management and commented only that he would think about increasing the number of saltpans as Alan suggested.

Two days later Alan rode through the village of Tendring to his manor at Beaumont three miles beyond, a distance of ten miles which took about an hour with the horses at a quick walk. He was accompanied by four of the now eight new recruits for his cavalry unit, Ainulf, Edric, Alfward and Ledmer. They looked resplendent in their mail hauberks (repaired ex-Hastings purchases), helmets, green-painted kite shaped-shields and green cloaks tied closely about them against the light snow that was falling. The fact that each hardly knew which end of a sword to hold didn’t affect their impressiveness or their feeling of smug self-satisfaction.

Beaumont was a small manor of only two hides, some 240 acres, but with rich soil. It had seven ploughs and oxen teams, two salt houses, six taxed beehives (and many more untaxed ones relocated whenever the tax assessors called) and most importantly a mill. This was one of the properties formerly owned by Wulfwin and the steward was a relatively young and apparently capable man called Siric. It formed part of the parish that included the villages of Moze, Birch Hall and Tendring, the priest’s benefice being in the gift of Leofson of Moze. The priest, by name Edwin, was at his home at Birch Hall. According to Siric the priest was quite elderly but conscientious in the performance of his duties. The head-cheorl was Alstan. Although with only half the cultivated land of Thorrington, Beaumont was sufficiently wealthy that it had twice the amount of assessed annual geld.

This was a small but rich manor that Alan was determined would be administered properly. The procedure followed by Alan was virtually identical to that when he took possession of Thorrington, although the strong-box was reasonably full of silver pennies, about?2 worth. The outcome of the folkmoot was similar to that at Thorrington and Alan gave similar instructions to Siric about the use of the demesne land and building more saltpans. Alan also gave the same spiel about wanting more mounted men-at-arms, this time the message being reinforced by the immaculate and impressive presence at his back of the four horsemen who had already commenced training.

Alan by-passed Great Oakley, a manor he had ‘inherited’ from Aelfric Kemp. Wulfwin had lived in Lexden Hundred near Colchester and Estan had died without issue. Kemp had died leaving family, two brothers, and Alan intended to deal with them last. Instead, he called at Little Oakley as a courtesy to see thegn Ednoth, who also held land at Tendring and who Alan had not seen on his visit to that village, before proceeding in the afternoon to another of Wulfric’s former properties at Dovercourt, eight miles from Beaumont.

Dovercourt was in laen to the thegn Toli and Alan spent a convivial evening with the thegn, his steward Haldane and head-cheorl Ordmer and the guests invited by Toli. The village was quite wealthy with six hides of land, nine ploughs (three belonging to the lord) and with a large flock of sheep and herd of cattle. Toli had taken the opportunity to invite Brictmer of Great Bromley, Ednoth from Little Oakley, Adamnan the steward to Queen Edith’s lands at Wix, Werian the steward of Alan’s own land at Bradfield and also Courtney, Alan’s steward from Great Oakley, and Alwin from Little Bromley.

Alan gave the same talk about succession and taxes as he had at Thorrington. The financial implications were of obvious concern to the English and they chatted amongst themselves after Alan had finished his speech.

After a while Toli urged, “Tell us about the great battle. None of us were there, and those who went to the battle did not return. The earl made his call and those with standing forces departed and did not return. These included Wulfwin, from his lands further west, Alfred Kemp and Estan. Those of us who needed to call in our men had just about reached London when word of the outcome of the battle reached us.”

Alan felt warmed by the invitation and the implicit acceptance given by the request. He also appreciated that the semi-illiterate loved a good story. “Well, as you would expect, we Normans marched from Hastings at dawn. It was difficult country and we were marching along what was little more than a track. We came across the English line about an hour before Terce. They were in a superb defensive position on a steep hill with streams and marshy ground to their front, followed by a ploughed field. Each flank was protected by steep terrain and the trees of the Andreswald.

“The armies were nearly equal in numbers. Probably the English had 1,000 or maybe 2,000 more men, but many were fyrdmen. A third of the Norman forces were heavy cavalry.” Alan described the battlefield and gave a detailed description of the battle to the point that he had departed, the thegns and their men nodding their understanding as he proceeded.

“Why do you think we lost?” asked Ednoth.

“Several factors,” replied Alan. “The main factor was probably the archers and crossbowmen, which over time bled the shield-wall of men. The nature of the land took away the Norman cavalry’s ability to manoeuvre and made head-on attacks both difficult and costly. The English heavy infantry were better than the Norman and French infantry and were strongly positioned. But the archers and crossbowmen could stand off and slowly bleed the defenders to death.”

He took a sip of ale from the tankard before him on the table and continued, “The disposition and arranging of the Saxon infantry was poor. They just seem to have gone into line in the order they arrived with no real organisation or control of the forces that I could see. Also Leofric and Gyrth being killed early in the day didn’t help. When the last of the Godwinsons died there was nobody left to conduct a fighting withdrawal, and nobody able to raise and lead a new army. The main issue was the slow loss of the men on the shield-wall, the King’s Thegns, Royal Huscarles and the lesser thegns and huscarles, meant that eventually the line was shortened enough until some horsemen could get up the west flank. It appeared the thegns wouldn’t allow the fyrdmen to stand in the shield-wall- the line was still four or six deep at the end.”

“What about the loss of men who chased the Bretons down the hill?” queried Ednoth.

“I don’t think that made much difference,” replied Alan with a shrug. “The English had plenty of men and nearly all those lost in that undisciplined charge were fyrdmen armed with a spear or pitchfork, not professional soldiers. Sword-fodder,” said Alan dismissively.

Alan found it interesting that the thegns and cheorls had been keen to hear the story of the battle, even from a man who had been on the other side and facing up the hill, and he had deliberately cast his story to be factual and impartial. Afterwards the evening progressed to heavy drinking and the telling of amusing or ribald stories and jokes, frequently at the expense of either some of those present or other men of local note.

The next day, nursing a slight hang-over, Alan girded his loins to confront the Kemps, brothers of the dead Aelfric. Toli had described them the night before as two impetuous youths of sixteen and seventeen named Aelfhare and Bertholf, who had taken it upon themselves to assume the ownership of Aelfric’s three rich manors and who were both currently living at the Manor Hall at Ramsey. Toli’s comment was that they thought more with their fists and swords and that was why Aelfric’s father had left all three manors to him, instead of leaving one to each son.

Alan asked Toli to accompany him as a witness, and Toli arranged for Dovercourt’s head-cheorl Ordmer and two seasoned fyrdmen to also join them. All were armed with swords. The new cavalrymen Ainulf, Edric, Alfward and Ledmer proudly wore their armour. Alan had been in two minds about that, feeling it may cause unnecessary friction but in the end deciding it made a point, and that the inexperienced cavalrymen would benefit from the extra self-confidence that wearing mail would give.

To be sure of meeting Aelfhare and Bertholf at home they departed at daybreak, and the two and a half mile ride to Ramsey took about fifteen minutes. Ramsey was a large, relatively populous and neat village with about fifty cottages, a mill and a salt house. Unlike many English villages its buildings were extended along the road, rather than being arranged around a central village green. The village was about a mile inland from the sea; the land was flat, with over seven hides of land and a small area of woodland. It had significant pasture and meadowland, which the Kemp family had used to build up a large sheep flock, cattle herd and a horse stud.

The Manor House was on the east of the town. The nine riders dismounted in the forecourt, where they received a mixed reception as, although Toli was a respected neighbour, Alan’s companions were dressed in Norman armour and Alan in a non-descript but now travel-stained black tunic and trousers. A short man of slight build and few years with long dark hair hurried out of the Hall. “Aelfhare,” murmured Toli in Alan’s ear, followed a few moments later by another man slightly younger but taller and more heavily built. “Bertholf.”

“Greetings, Toli! What brings you here so early in the day? Have you broken your fast, or would you like something to eat?” asked Aelfhare, whose sharp eyes were taking in the weapons that the visitors carried and the foreign armour worn by men who, by their appearance and hairstyles, were Englishmen.

“I have eaten, thank you. Myself and my men have been asked here as witness by my new landrica, Alan,” said Toli. Since coming to Tendring Hundred Alan had deliberately not described himself as ‘de Gauville’ nor emphasised his Norman nobility by the use of the honorific ‘Sir’.

Alan stepped forward, towering over the smaller Englishman, who barely came up to his chest. “You are aware that your brother Aelfric died in battle at Hastings and that the land of all who did so has been declared forfeit by King William. The three manors formerly held by your brother have been given to me as landboc. I’m the new owner.”

Bertholf spat on the ground, deliberately near Alan’s feet. “I give that for your king and his proclamations!” he said aggressively. Alan noticed out of the corner of his eye that three of his own companion’s hands had gone to their swords and were gripping the hilts. Edric, who preferred the single-handed battle-axe, unclipped it from his belt and held the end of its two and a half foot haft, while resting the eight-inch polished steel head on his shoulder. The movements also caught the eye of the two Kemp brothers who, while they could call on many more men, did not have men under arms immediately available.

Alan spoke in a dangerously quiet voice, while resting his hand on the hilt of his still un-drawn sword. “King William was anointed by Ealdred, Archbishop of York, the same man who crowned Harold Godwinson. Stigand, Archbishop of Canterbury and all the nobles of England have submitted to him. He is not just my king, he is also your king and to defy his edicts is treason punishable by death. I’m also Chief Judge of the Hundred court. I’m happy to carry out sentence here and now if that is your wish? I am prepared to give the two of you three days to vacate the manors. I’m seeking skilled and obedient warriors who will follow my orders. If you wish, I may be prepared to give you a trial amongst my warriors, which may in time result in you being granted laenland. I make no promises and that would depend on both your skills and your attitude, which has been lacking so far today. Take me to the manor strongbox now.”

There was no movement on the part of the brothers. Alan sighed and drew his sword, as did his companions. Toli and Ordmer moved back to give them room. “Who is the steward here?” There was no reply, but several others shuffled away from one man who was left standing alone. “Your name?” asked Alan.

“Durand,” was the reply.

“Well, Durand, you have a chance in the next few seconds to possibly keep your position secure, and to keep your head on your shoulders. The strongbox will be in the bedchamber or solar. I’ll find it within a minute or so and if I don’t have the key, Edric here will simply hit it a few times with his axe.” Alan placed his drawn sword against the steward’s throat. “Your choice,” he said.

Durand suddenly found the key easily enough, and as expected the strongbox was in the bedchamber. With a turn of the key and a loud click it opened. It contained cash, which without counting it Alan estimated about?6. More importantly it also contained the landbocs that showed ownership of all three manors and the books of account of all three manors. Alan had these placed in a large sack, to be tied to the pack on a spare horse that Alan took from the stable.

“Remember. I’ll be back in three days,” said Alan to the two brothers as he and his party mounted. They then rode the five miles west to Bradfield, the nearest of the other Kemp manors. That manor was of four and a half hides of land, good farmland with saltpans and a salt house. Already having the landboc, Alan forced the steward Werian into submission and took possession of about?2 in cash and the latest accounting books. Then they retraced their path back to Great Oakley, the second largest of the Kemp estates, four and a half miles to the east. On arrival there they met with the steward Courtney, who told them that Bertholf had been there shortly before and emptied the strongbox of cash, which Courtney estimated at?3, but he had left the accounting books, which Alan now removed.

After parting with Toli and his men at Great Oakley, with thanks for their assistance, Alan and his men arrived back at Thorrington just before dark on Saturday 29th January.

The next day Brother Godwine performed Sunday Mass at Terce as instructed and most of the village spent the Lord’s Day in rest or in the tavern, as their leanings took them. Alan spent the day trying to decipher and gain an understanding of the books of account of Aelfric Kemp. The cash collected from Ramsey and Bradfield came to?6 4/ and 8p, which was a little less than the books indicated, but didn’t seem unduly deficient. The books also indicated there should have been?4 2/ at Great Oakley, had the Kemps not got there first.

Late on Monday morning Alan and Hugh were teaching swordsmanship to the trainee men-at-arms, now ten in number, and Roger was working with five of the village peasant archers at the butts, when word came that a group of horsemen was approaching from the north.

Alan told Hugh to gather their men, but keep them in the background at the moment. Alan quickly swapped the training sword he had been using for his usual sword Blue Fire, called Baldwin to stand with him and for Kendrick to gather a couple of stable hands. He then waited the few minutes until the visitors rode up. As the riders rode through the gate Alan was standing in his padded practice gambeson jacket, hot and sweaty. He recognised Aelfhare and Bertholf and several others from Ramsey, as well as Frewin and Alward, thegns from Tendring who had each brought one man.

Following protocol Alan first greeted his equals Frewin and Alward. Alward commented that Aelfhare and Bertholf had been riding through Tendring and from the comments they had made when he had offered them a sup of ale in his Hall as refreshment, he and Frewin had felt that they should accompany them to ensure that nothing untoward happened.

Alan did not invite the visitors into the Hall and after they dismounted they stood in the forecourt in the thin sunlight of the chill January day. “What can I do for you Aelfhare and Bertholf? We spoke on Saturday and I gave you until tomorrow to vacate the manors you are illegally holding. By the way you owe me the?4 2/ you removed from the strongbox at Great Oakley. Is it that you have come to pay that?”

Bertholf snarled, “You wish! No, we have come to dispute your right to take the manors from us.”

Alan gestured to Kendrick, who handed the rolled parchment Charter from King William to Alan, who in turn handed it to Alward. “Please read it aloud Alward, it is written in both Latin and English with the king’s Great Seal at the foot.”

Alward read aloud the flowery language that granted the honour to Alan, concluding, “Signed and sealed this 27th day of December 1066. William, king of England. I’m sorry Aelfhare and Bertholf, but as one of the Hundred thegns I accept that this is valid and must act to uphold it.”

“I offered you employment fit for your station and the possibility of advancement when we last spoke,” said Alan. “Those offers are now revoked. Make sure you are out of the Hundred by mid-night tomorrow. Alward and Frewin, may I invite you inside for refreshments while these geburs take themselves off? By the way Aelfhare and Bertholf, the horses you ride belong to me. Make sure you leave them behind when you depart.”

With a snarl Bertholf launched himself forward, moving to draw his sword from its scabbard. The sword was less than half out when an arrow thumped into his chest, stopping Bertholf two paces away from Alan. With a surprised expression on his face he began to collapse. Alan glanced back over his shoulder and saw Roger reaching for a new arrow from his quiver.

Aelfhare shouted, “No!” and drew his own sword as he raced towards Alan. Initially Alan didn’t move, although he rose onto the balls of his feet ready to dodge as required. Three paces before he reached Alan, and just as Alan began to move his feet and right hand, four arrows thumped into Aelfhare’s chest, dropping him like a hare. Glancing back over his shoulder again Alan saw that four of his English archers were notching new arrows in their bows.

Alan looked at the four Englishmen from Ramsey and asked, “Anybody else? You all saw me attacked without provocation outside my own Hall by armed guests.” Turning to the practical he asked Alward, “Do they have any kin surviving?”

“I think perhaps a sister over Meldon way,” Alward replied.

“I’ll arrange their burial in the churchyard there and have their bodies taken to the church now. Brother Godwine is around somewhere and can say Last Rights. Alward, can you send a message to this sister and tell them of the death of her brothers and the fact that they died attacking their liege lord without provocation? I’ll arrange men to go to Great Oakley, Ramsey and Bradfield today. Can you arrange your men here to accompany mine and act as witnesses to what has occurred? I would prefer to avoid further conflict when my men take possession of those manors. Roger, you can give your men the rest of the day off, take them down to the tavern and buy them a few quarts of ale. I think that they’ve deserved it.”

As Alan escorted the thegns and their men into the Hall, he heard one of his archers named Barclay rather loudly proclaiming, “He may be a ?lfremede foreigner, but lord Alan has done right by us and our village and I wasn’t going to let no bastard from Ramsey cut him down unprovoked when he wasn’t defending himself,” which gave him a warm feeling of both belonging and responsibility.

After giving Frewin and Alward a rather abbreviated mid-day meal, accompanied by wine and ale, Alan expressed a wish to leave early to take possession of the estates of Great Oakley, Ramsey and Bradfield, preferring to ride with Frewin and Alward as far as Tendring, but offering his guests further hospitality if they wished to stay. Both declared themselves ready to leave at once. Using an ‘all hands on deck’ approach to avoid potential problems, Alan decided to take Ainulf, Edric, Alfward and Ledmer and four archers to Ramsey, where any problems were likely to occur. Warren was to take three archers and two horsemen to Great Oakley, and Baldwin three archers and two horsemen to Bradfield. Frewin and Alward agreed to send one man as an independent witness to each village. This left Hugh and Roger at Thorrington to conduct training, but had removed all the current recruits, making them temporarily superfluous.

They rode out in the early afternoon, allowing ample time to return the two thegns home and proceed on to their destinations.

Alan, with Edric ‘The Axe’, Ledmer and Alfward, together with archers Barclay, Abracan, Aethelbald and Oswy and Frewin’s man Irwin arrived at Ramsey as darkness was setting in. Of the archers Barclay was officially a hunter, although Alan suspected that both he and Aethelbald had in fact been poachers.

Aelfhare’s and Bertholf’s companions had arrived an hour or so before, and the Hall was in uproar at the news of the death of their lords.

Alan called for the steward Durand to maintain calm and asked for the four village elders, including head-cheorl Putman, to attend at the Hall immediately. A few minutes later, standing at the end of the Hall with his men at his back, Alan explained to the elders and the retainers in the Hall the details of the deaths of Aelfhare and Bertholf. He stated that both had come uninvited to his Hall and attempted to kill him. Frewin’s man Irwin, as independent witness, confirmed this.

Alan advised all that he and his men would be taking possession of the three manors and that he expected, nay demanded, the whole-hearted co-operation of all the people in each manor. No argument from either those who lived at the Hall or in the village would be tolerated. The manors would be ruled with an iron fist in an iron glove. Those retainers who proved their worth and reliability would be rewarded. Those who did not would be released to find alternative service forthwith.

That night Alan slept in the bedchamber together with most of his men, with two men on guard outside the door.

The next day, Tuesday, Alan visited the horse stud property that the Kemps had developed just outside the village. He arranged with stud-master Roweson that the eighteen horses that had reached three years of age would be sent to Thorrington at once. He also promised additional breeding stock, including chargers, rather than just rounceys, and in the springtime the use of his own destrier stallion for breeding duties with suitably chosen mares.

Over the next week the situation settled down. Alan arranged with Toli of Dovercourt to borrow a huscarle who would administer Bradfield. Baldwin would base himself at Ramsey and train a squadron of ten horsemen, and Warren would supervise Great Oakley and train a squad of archers there.

Alan and most of the cavalry and archers returned home to Thorrington on Saturday 27th January. There he found to his pleasant surprise that Toland had used this normally quiet time of the year for the peasants to get busy with the construction of the new saltpans, which were nearly complete.

Construction had not been difficult as the land selected had a clay base, was very flat and below the level the sea reached each month on the flood-tide- although the sea would be held back from flooding the saltpans by levees. Toland had arranged for Aethelhard the blacksmith to make a metal cutting edge on a strong wooden board ten feet wide, which was pulled by a team of six oxen, up and down, across and diagonally on the salt pan. This deepened the pan and levelled its floor and also provided the clay soil with which to build the levees three feet high around each pan.

Using the ox-pulled board method Toland had the villagers make a single large expanse of pan, which was then in the process of being divided into smaller pans by inserting intervening levees. Sliding wooden sluice gates were inserted in the levees next to the estuary or tidal creek. Alan suggested building in a fall in level across the pan and intervening sluices, so that water of increasingly high salinity resulting from solar evaporation could be drained from one pan to the next to facilitate harvesting at the end of summer, when most of the salt would then be in the final one or two pans. With these modifications the pans were soon completed and Alan arranged for the loan of the levelling board- and for Toland to visit in turn Great Oakley, Beaumont, Bradfield and Great Bentley to advise their head-cheorls on the new construction method they had devised.

Alan also gave Kendrick and Toland the bad news that after completion and filling of the saltpans that he wanted the construction of a barracks for sixty men and a stable for thirty horses, together with a barn and armoury. These were to be built on the north side of the village close to Alresford Creek, and within the grounds of the fortification that he intended to build.

After marking out the land Alan specified that the cottars would work their two days a week, the cheorls and sokeman their three days a week and his six slaves full time on digging a ditch, rampart and palisade after the barracks and stables had been completed. He also specified that the barracks was to be of two storeys and that all the buildings within the bailey were to be roofed with wooden shingles, not thatch, to reduce the risk of fire.

Work would proceed as and when labour was available, with agricultural duties taking precedence- but each peasant and slave was expected to work their full labour allocations each week- and to work hard and for the full day. The intervention of bad weather was to be deducted from their own time, not his.

This wasn’t as drastic a demand as it may appear, as a sokeman or cheorl usually had several adult members of the family available to provide labour. A cottar, who owed a corvee of two days a week labour for rent of his house and a small parcel of land, usually worked the remaining four days a week for pay. These were usually ‘in kind’ or the provision of food or the waiving of the banality fee charged by the lord for use of facilities such as a mill, the estover right to gather wood or the pannage right to have pigs eat acorns in the lord’s forest.

All the gebur freemen had an ancient obligation under Anglo-Saxon law to undertake to create, improve or maintain local fortifications, called the burgh-bot. While they were not happy at the work that would be required, they acknowledged Alan’s right as lord to demand it.

Alan also went to visit the miller Acwel to discuss whether he would be able to handle the additional tonnage of grain if Alan’s plans for the three-field system worked as he hoped. The mill was owned by Alan, who took ten percent of the flour milled as the fee for the service provided. This was a traditional landowner’s fee common to both Anglo-Saxons and Normans, which was charged to the villagers- much objected to by the villagers as they could grind their grain by hand, but were traditionally required to use the mill. It was simply yet another form of taxation. The miller received three tenths of the flour from Alan’s share as his income for operation of the mill.

When at the mill Alan noticed a particularly attractive young woman of about sixteen years working at handing the sacks down to the worker below the millstones. She was using a pulley system to pull up the full flour bags and tip them over for a large and heavily-built teenager to move over onto a pile of sacks by the open side-door of the mill, ready to be collected by cart.

The lass gave him a bold look in return to his own scrutiny of her. The grain currently being ground was of course from the previous summer. Alan mentioned that he had some wheat still needing milling and perhaps the young woman, who Acwel mentioned was his daughter Edyth, could resolve delivery arrangements. Acwel gave Alan a calculating look and agreed.

Edyth attended the next morning at the Manor Hall, with ten bags of wheat flour, clean and dressed in her best clothes. Alan chatted with her and found her to be a typical country girl, uneducated, illiterate and with a knowledge only of her local area- but also typically open, honest and sincere. She was not without experience and Alan found her a willing and enthusiastic partner in bed that night. She joined his household in an undefined capacity the next day. Acwel was happy to have his percentage from the mill increased from three to five parts, to allow for the loss of her labour. Edyth was happy to be freed from the need to work ten-hour days, the improved food and accommodation in the Manor Hall and the somewhat qualified respect she was given within the Hall as the lord’s bed mate.

Edyth quickly proved a suitable choice. While her conversation was vapid and concerned local gossip, lacking the intellectual ‘cut and thrust’ that Alan would have preferred, she had a placid temperament and fitted in well with the staff at Thorrington, causing no problems. She was confused, rather than conceited, in her interaction with the staff, not knowing quite what to ask her maid to do as she was used to doing everything herself, both for herself and her family. She made no demands- and obviously as a miller’s daughter would not be offered marriage by Alan. And she was an absolute tigress in bed.

Alan had chosen to make Thorrington his home, hence the directions for building the fortification. Whilst it was the southernmost of his manors and some miles away from the bulk of his estates in the north-east of the Hundred, he had a liking for the pretty village and its people. In return the villagers seemed to have a genuine affection for him, unlike the villagers and servants at Ramsey and Bradfield who could barely conceal their antipathy. Ramsey may have been a more logical choice but Alan wanted to live where he was comfortable. Anyway, the northern villages were only an hour or so away by horse, and Thorrington was closer to the pleasures of the town of Colchester.

CHAPTER SEVEN

THORRINGTON FEBRUARY 1067

It was midday on a clear crisp winter day in late February when Alan was out with four local thegns, Edward, Alric, Edwold and Ketel who he had invited hawking for a ‘get to know you day’. Together with half a dozen servants they were in a forest near Alresford in the north of Alan’s demesne. All of his companions were Saxons and like them he wore a padded jerkin and thick breeches against the cold, leather gloves on his hands and a close fitting knitted cap on his head. As usual he was dressed in black and dark brown and wore no armour- having decided on his first day in the manor that if he had to wear armour to protect him from his own people he might as well give up and go home. Respect, not fear, was what he strove for in both man and beast.

Alan enjoyed falconry. This was a quiet morning’s ride with a small group of friends seeking their quarry in the forest clearings and open spaces where the birds which falcons and hawks usually sought as prey could be found and the occasional hare could be started, although most falcons and hawks would rarely chase ground-based prey.

Alan disliked the larger and more formal hunts for boar and deer, as he enjoyed pitting his wits against his foe. A well-shot arrow in a stalk through the forest was worth a dozen deer driven to the bowmen by beaters, and Alan had to admit he was at best an indifferent hand with the bow. Boar-hunting was more… exciting, with an angry 200 pound beast with sharp tusks charging at short-range in the semi-darkness of deep forest. Alan had in the past used stout boar-spears to kill what he felt was his fair share of boar in hunts arranged by his father in the woodlands near his ancestral home and felt no need to test his courage and fortitude on a regular basis. He adamantly refused to hunt animals that couldn’t be eaten, such as bear and wolves, unless they were causing undue depredation amongst the local livestock.

Benoic, Alan’s Falconer, rode behind him and carried the long-wing female peregrine falcon that was the excuse for today’s outing. She was a beautifully marked bird of white with brown speckles and dark-brown head currently covered by a soft leather hood. Alan been content to watch those two of his companions with hawks flying them against quarry, as they were riding through a stand of dense forest and the long-winged birds wouldn’t be able to be flown until they came to a large open area.

In reality, after a week of bad weather and judicial duties keeping him indoors, Alan was simply out for some exercise and fresh air. He was riding Odin, to also give him some exercise, although the large and bad-tempered destrier was hardly the most suitable horse for a hunting expedition. In stables or gentle riding the horse was difficult. He bit and kicked in the stables, and fidgeted and pranced in riding. Alan was prepared to put up with that behaviour as the French-trained war-horse responded to him in battle or practice as if they shared a single mind.

The path through the forest was a narrow and winding dirt track, the canopy of leafless oak and elm overhead letting light into the under-storey of bushes and shrubs that crowded the sides of the pathway. There had been no snow for over a week but the dirt path remained frozen solid.

Hearing a faint cry up ahead Alan cocked his head and used a gloved hand to move the knitted wool cap and uncover his ear. There was another shout, followed by the unmistakable ringing sound of steel on steel.

While Alan wore no armour, like all men of station he carried a sword hanging at his hip. The path ahead curved to the left and Alan spurred Odin into a gallop, bending low in the saddle to avoid the branches whipping by overhead. The sound of galloping hooves behind indicated that his Saxon companions were following.

After riding around the curve the path broadened, with the trees and undergrowth falling back to a distance of some ten paces on either side. Alan sat upright in his saddle and drew his sword Blue Fire, a well-balanced and superbly forged and acid-etched one-and-a-half-hand masterpiece some thirty-one inches in length, which he had literally picked up at Caldbec Hill.

Thirty yards ahead an unpleasant vignette was being played out. About a dozen roughly-dressed men were standing in a small clearing perhaps thirty yards across; several other people, including two women, were lying on the ground. Six horses were milling around in confusion, threatening to trample people underfoot as they cavorted and reared.

As Alan watched, one on the roughly-dressed men used a long knife to slit the throat of a man who was lying helpless on the ground. Two other men lay crumpled and still near the pathway, each with several arrows protruding from their chests. Two men were near each of the two women lying on the ground.

One woman wearing rich clothes was lying unmoving like a broken doll, while the men rifled through her clothing for valuables and removed the rings from her fingers. The other, by her clothing a maid, had her dress ripped open at the bodice and also pulled up to her waist. One man, with his pants around his ankles, was thrusting himself between her legs, with another awaiting his turn.

A man armed with a spear stood on the roadway just ahead of Alan. Rather than paying attention to his duties as a look-out, he had turned to face the clearing- obviously looking forward to his turn with the women. Before the man could gather his wits, Odin swerved towards him without any command by Alan. The horse smashed his massive chest into the bandit, throwing the man backwards onto the pathway. Odin paid particular attention to stamp each of his steel-shod feet on the body below him as he swept over, making sure to give a parting backwards kick which caught the man full on the head, smashing it open with a sound like a ripe melon bursting.

Another man ran in front of them, brandishing a rusty sword. Odin reared onto his hind-legs, making Alan to have to lean forward to maintain his seat as the horse lashed out with its iron-shod fore-hooves. The man’s face disappeared in a spray of blood as he reeled backwards and again the horse rode him down.

The slight pause had given Alan’s Saxon companions a chance to catch up, and after having felt a little like a passenger for the last few moments Alan took Odin in hand with a wrench of the reins, directing him towards the two men who were near the inert body of the noblewoman.

The two bandits started to rise to their feet, abandoning their preoccupation with robbery, with fear written clearly on their faces. As Alan reined Odin to an abrupt halt, the horse was almost standing on the woman. Without needing instruction, and with surprising adroitness and control, the animal carefully placed his feet so as not to crush the woman.

Alan gave a backhanded slash with his sword at the bandit to his right. The blade cleaved through the man’s right shoulder next to neck while the man was still fumbling with his own sword and trying to come to grips with the rapidly changed situation. The almost horizontal cut nearly severed the man’s head and he dropped in a shower of blood from severed arteries with a look of surprise still on his face.

Alan twitched Odin’s reins to make him move to the right and then launched himself out of the saddle towards the bandit on the left, who by now had recovered from his surprise sufficiently to draw his own sword from its scabbard and raise it to an ‘en garde’ position. Alan stumbled on landing and his opponent sought to take advantage by making a wild swing with the sword at his head. Alan immediately performed a passata-sotto, dropping down with his left hand to the ground and lowering his body below his opponent’s blade as it whistled overhead. Springing upright Alan performed an advance and a simple riposte lunge, running six inches of steel into his opponent’s chest before the latter could recover his balance. Remembering his teaching that ‘the damage is done by the first three inches of the blade, not the last three’ he was able to easily withdraw his blade as his opponent toppled over backwards.

With a quick glance around to make sure he was momentarily clear of further attack, Alan then kicked the his victim’s blade clear of his twitching hand. Looking around he saw that the thegns had finished off the two men who had been ravaging the maid. One, now a headless corpse, still lay on her, drenching her with his blood. One thegn was approaching the last bandit still standing in the clearing. Alan could see movement in the trees as two or three survivors fled into the forest.

“Hold on! We want a prisoner!” shouted Alan- unfortunately just too late as the thegn performed a beat-parry, striking the bandit’s incoming blade aside before using a thrust to the throat. “Ah, well! Too late! Alric, get one of the men to catch the horses then help me. Edward, you and a couple of the servants stand guard in case those vermin return. Ketel, can you look to the maid?” The last was in response to the hysterical screams coming from underneath the headless corpse. “Edwold, check the bodies of both sides. See if any are still breathing.”

As Ketel heaved to one side the corpse atop the maid, the screams from the blood-drenched woman subsided into heart-rending sobs. After carefully wiping his blade clean on the filthy and ragged clothes of one the bandits and then sliding it back into its leather scabbard, Alan hurried over to the still motionless form of the well-dressed woman lying near the pathway.

He turned her head and checked her tongue to ensure she would not choke and gave her a cursory examination. He knelt at her right side, while Alric knelt on her left, his face looking anxious. “Do you know her?” asked Alan. Alric shook his head, his long blonde hair swinging from side to side. “Definitely a broken leg,” continued Alan. “This is a nasty cut to the thigh, and…” gently sounding her ribs with his fingertips, “I think some broken ribs. There’s no way we can put her on a horse and this path is too narrow for a cart or wagon. Get a couple of cloaks from her dead retainers and cover her while I check the others.”

Edwold had found that one of the retainers was still breathing and had rolled him onto his back. Alan knelt beside them and noted the blood from a wound to the chest and the pink frothy blood on the man’s lips. Edwold, who had seen enough killing wounds to know what that meant, pulled a wry face to Alan and shook his head sadly.

Alan gave a slight nod of agreement. “We can’t put him on a horse either. Alresford is your demesne isn’t it? Right! Come with me and we’ll get some more horses and get some litters made. We are, what… two miles away?” Raising his voice he continued, calling to the eldest of the thegns. “Alric! Edwold and I will be back in about an hour. Keep these two warm. Don’t move them. And keep a watch out, as there may be other bandits.”

Three men rode back to Alresford, Alan, Edwold and the falconer Benoic, who had retrieved all four of the birds that the party had been flying and had extracted a promise from Edwold to be able to place them in his mews until the excitement was over. Alan saw Benoic’s devotion to the birds, in the face of the calamity they had come across, as being if not quite humorous at least interestingly single-minded. The man had his job, his job was hawks and that was all he was interested in.

As they rode towards Alresford at a brisk canter Alan issued instructions to Edwold. “The injured are about half a mile into the forest. We’ll need stretchers or litters to bring them out. It’ll probably be easier to carry them out by hand rather than using litters. Can you have a light cart brought to the edge of the forest so we can get them here as soon as possible? Fortunately they’re both unconscious at the moment.”

Edwold largely ignored the flow of ideas and words from Alan’s lips. He knew perfectly well how to make a litter and didn’t need any instruction, least of all from an outlander. As they rode though the gate of the palisade that surrounded his Hall Edwold was shouting for attention. Within minutes stretchers were being made, horses brought, a cart requisitioned and provided with a draft horse, and the village Wise Woman sought (she was not immediately available, being out in the forest picking herbs, but a boy was left on her doorstep with instructions to bring her to the Hall the moment she returned).

It was more than two hours later that they returned to the clearing in the forest with a multitude of helpers and horses. All of the dead, including the bandits, were thrown onto the back of packhorses, two or three to a horse. As they were loaded the horses sidled nervously, eyes wide and nostrils flaring at the scent of blood. There had been little change in the condition of the wounded man and woman. If anything the man was breathing more clearly than Alan would have expected. Placing his ear against his chest he could hear the rattle of air being drawn through blood. Alan grimaced as he sat back, well aware that the unidentified servant was slowly drowning in his own blood and there was nothing anybody could do about it other than pray for his immortal soul.

Alan directed that stout sheets of cloth be slid under the two injured people, and then used to lift them and place them onto the stretchers. They had brought with them two women and a firkin of water. The women went to work on the maid, who was now in a catatonic state sitting on a fallen tree trunk, washing away the blood that had clotted on her face, hair and arms and providing her with a change of clothing. She and the other women would be given a place on the cart for the journey back to Alresford.

“Anything else you think we have missed?” Alan asked Edwold.

“No, but I don’t understand why you want the bodies, and the one loose head, of the footpads,” replied Edwold.

“I intend to display them at all the villages around here,” replied Alan. “Perhaps somebody will recognise them and be able to give us some information. Can you lend me a wagon and a couple of intelligent men tomorrow to start the rounds? It’ll probably take a week to visit all the villages, and by that time they’d hardly be recognisable anyway. You’d need some men with strong stomachs for the job. Also, can you get your steward to call all the hunters and the poachers together for a meeting tomorrow? They can look at the bodies and you can ask them what they’ve been seeing in the forest. Any leads they have about where the outlaw’s hide-out may be, with no more questions asked and twelve shillings from me to the man who can locate their camp if we can catch them still in residence. Your people know you and will trust you more than me. One thing I’ve found is that no peasant, and few freemen, will talk to the local lord, and here we need the help of those that are… let’s say on the edge of the law.”

“I’ll have to tell them that it is your money!” said Edwold with a grin. “They know that I don’t have two shillings to rub together!”

Alan snorted with amusement. “Me neither, but I can find it if I have to.”

“By the way,” commented Edwold “I’ve never seen a horse behave like yours. He was a weapon all on his own.”

“He is a mean and vicious bastard, just like his owner. He’s very intelligent in his way. We get on well, although we frequently have disagreements about who’s in charge on any one day,” laughed Alan. “He was specially trained, like most destriers. That’s why they cost so much. The only problem is he’s pretty much a one-use animal, not like your rouncey over there that you can use for anything from a cavalry charge to a pack-horse to teaching your children how to ride.”

By this time everything and everybody was packed away and the party started out in the late afternoon towards Alresford. When they arrived and the cart was driven through the Hall gate the village Wise Woman Dona was waiting and climbed onto the cart immediately. Alan nodded to her respectfully and said, “Welcome! Edwold tells me that your name is Dona.” Alan though that the name ‘Mother Goddess’ was particularly suitable for a village Wise Woman. Dona gave a long thoughtful look as the rescued maid was handed down from the cart, noting the frozen expression of her face, and then turned to the two patients lying in the back.

Alan said, “Before I forget, you noticed that girl is badly affected by her experience today. May I suggest a strong sedative and constant supervision?” Dona tilted her head to the side and nodded, not committing herself but acknowledging the advice given. “Now as to this one,” Alan continued pointing to the injured man, and then waited while Dona performed a quick appraisal.

“I hope that you don’t expect a cure from me” said Dona in a nasal tone.

Alan pulled a wry face and replied, “No. This man, whoever he is, has his soul in God’s hands. And God will take it shortly. All I ask is that you ease his passing. I’ll send word for the priest to come and shrive him. Do what you can, and here is a price for your efforts,” pulling out his purse and extracting a dozen silver pennies.

Dona snorted. “More than I have been paid for many a year,” she commented.

“The workman, or woman, is worthy of his hire, and I can see that you are experienced and capable,” replied Alan. “Do what you can with both the man and the maid. I feel the woman will be the bigger problem and take more effort, as the man won’t be with us for long. I don’t feel that I’ve overpaid you. If you later feel that more payment is needed, come and see me.”

Dona’s lips twitched. “Although you speak English well, I can tell by your accent that you are not a native. I presume that you are our new Norman lord, come to enslave us all?” As Alan laughed heartily she continued, “And the lady?” with an indication of her hand to the other stretcher in the cart.

Alan glanced up to the sky. He estimated it was about three in the afternoon. Two miles to Thorrington. Half an hour, perhaps three-quarters if they had to slow down in the dark. “I’ll take her with me to Thorrington. She has some broken bones that need setting and then will need to rest for some time.” Edwold made several men available, including a cart driver and a couple of warriors. Alric and Edward decided to accompany Alan back to Thorrington for the night. Benoic was to follow with Alan’s hawk the next day.

They arrived at Thorrington just as full dark was falling. The journey had not been difficult but had been restricted by the pace of the horse and cart. “At least we didn’t use an ox,” mused Alan in impatience. “Lynn!” he shouted as they entered through the gateway of the wooden palisade around the Hall. The housekeeper appeared moments later in the light of the rush torches being held aloft by servants. “Lynn. Provide food and ale for my friends Alric and Edward and their servants. Set a brazier in my bedchamber and heat some water. I want as many candles, lamps and rushes alight in the bedchamber as possible. You four men! Unhook the stretcher on the cart, gently, and bring it inside. Lynn, is Brother Aldwyn still here? If so, please get him up here quickly. I want the lady bathed with warm wet cloths and ready for me to tend to her in fifteen minutes.”

The housekeeper was quite old, about thirty, portly and naturally slow-moving and slow-thinking, quite ugly with a wizened face and several large warts. “You want the lady naked on your bed?” she asked, with both eyebrows disappearing into her grey and sparse hairline.

“In fifteen minutes. I’m in a hurry.” Alan paused and then laughed aloud at her expression of concern. “Don’t worry, she is safe from any carnal intentions, but she needs urgent medical treatment. I don’t usually take advantage of unconscious noble ladies! Err… I suggest that it would be easiest if most of her clothes were cut from her. There’s no need to injure her further to save a few pieces of cloth.”

Just then Brother Aldwyn, the Infirmarer of St Botolph’s Priory at Colchester entered the room carrying a bag.

“Ah, Brother Aldwyn! I’m glad that you are still here. It’s fortunate that you were visiting. The lady here appears sore hurt and I would ask that you tend her.”

The middle-aged cleric nodded his willingness and then stepped outside to allow the ladies privacy as they stripped and washed the injured woman. He had visited because in a previous discussion Alan had indicated that he had several medical texts which the cleric had been keen to peruse.

After an abbreviated fulfilling of his obligations as host to Alric and Edward, and a careful washing of his hands and a change of clothes (the latter performed in the corner of the bedchamber, while the women looked demurely away) Alan stood over the bed on which the unknown lady was lying.

Brother Aldwyn stood at his side. The injured woman had, as instructed, been stripped naked and Alan had to admit to himself a certain interest. She had long rich dark auburn hair, tangled and disarrayed with the events of the day. Alan reached out and brushed loose hairs away from her face. She was petite, perhaps just over five feet in height, slim-built with a narrow waist and wide hips. Her breasts were small but firm, each about the size of a man’s hand. Lynn’s ministrations had cleaned most of the dried blood away from the large and ragged cut to the thigh. Brother Aldwyn cleaned the area thoroughly, applied an antiseptic unguent of garlic and alcohol into the wound before carefully stitching it closed and then applying a poultice of yarrow, marigold and ivy.

The cleric then carefully sounded her ribs, and decided that at least three or four on the left middle side of the ribcage were broken. He took Alan’s hand in his own and demonstrated to him the affected areas and how the broken ribs moved when compared to those which were unaffected. He instructed Dona and the housemaid Synne to lift the woman into a sitting position and then bound the ribs with bandages of linen. “Now for the difficult part,” he said as he gestured for Donna and Synne to allow the woman to again lie flat on the bed. Thirty minutes later he used the sleeve of his habit to wipe the sweat from his brow, even though it was still cold in the chamber, and swallowed a cup of wine which Alan proffered. “Praise be to the Lord that the lady was unconscious while I reduced the broken leg,” he said. “That didn’t go as well as I would have wished. Still the job is done, and I think properly done.”

Alan instructed the women, “Cover her up with the quilt and skins. Keep the brazier burning to keep the chill off the air. One maid to attend her at all times. I’ll sleep on a mattress in the office next door. Lynn, can you get some spare blankets for me? Brother Aldwyn, my thanks for your assistance. Praise be to God that you were here. Can you stay for a few days?”

“Nay! I must return to the priory tomorrow as there are many there who require my assistance.”

“Well my thanks go with you, and my prayers of gratitude. Perhaps I can do something to show my appreciation?” asked Alan

The cleric replied, “Well, there’s those medical parchments that you have- several aren’t included in our collection at the priory and I would ask that our librarian be able to copy them. We can also provide you in return with a copy of those tests that we have that are not amongst your collection. I’ll have prayers said for the lady’s recovery at Mass each day at the priory.”

Alan smiled and nodded, more than happy to oblige the cleric’s request.

Alan was standing naked before two buckets of what had been hot, now tepid, water on a side-table in the bedchamber. After a vigorous session of sword practice he was soaping the sweat away and examining several new bruises, preparatory to rinsing himself off. Willa the housemaid was sitting quietly in the corner, supposedly with her eyes demurely lowered to the sewing on her lap but in reality spending much or the time surreptitiously eyeing Alan’s tall, wiry frame with its muscular shoulders and arms and broad hairy chest.

He suddenly felt another person watching him and turned to see a pair of the greenest eyes he had ever seen peeping out over the top of the down quilt on the bed, showing a considerable degree of confusion and concern. Somewhat embarrassed at his semi-tumescent state, he turned away and finished rinsing himself off before drying himself and slipping on first a pair of underpants and then a pair of breeches.

“Sorry about that,” said Alan somewhat sheepishly “But it is my bed-chamber and it’s the warmest place in the whole damn building. There’s a blizzard outside, the washing-house water is frozen solid and there was no way I was going to wash out there! How are you feeling?” he asked in Anglo-Saxon.

After a moment a quiet husky voice answered, “Well enough… To be truthful, I feel terrible. I’m painful all over.”

Alan slipped on a shirt as he approached the bed and took her hand, feeling the pulse in the wrist. “Headache, sore chest and a left leg that feels it is on fire?” he asked in a professional manner. The auburn-haired head gave a small nod. “Not surprising, given your injuries. Now what is your name and where are you from?”

“Anne of Wivenhoe. Who are you? Where am I and what happened to my people?”

Alan sat easily on the edge of the bed. “A nice name,” he commented. “I’m Alan of Thorrington, which is where you are- in my Hall. We came across your party being attacked in the forest by footpads. I’m afraid we were too late to save three of your men. The fourth was sore wounded when we left him at Alresford last night. He’s receiving what attention they can give but I’m doubtful of the outcome. We pray for his recovery.”

“And my maid, Bathhilda?”

“So that is her name? She seemed well enough in body, although much troubled and distressed, when we left. She’d not spoken and seemed in a trance. She had been badly used before we arrived- and the circumstances of her rescue would not have helped. With God’s good grace both she and your servant will recover, although to be honest the servant is in God’s hands.”

Anne went to raise her hand to cross herself and then realised she was naked under the coverlet. “Is this part of your normal courtesy to guests?” she enquired with asperity.

Alan smiled easily. “No. Willa and Synne have been sitting protecting your virtue and reputation. You had bled badly and your clothes were ruined, although you may be able to salvage something from your fur-lined cloak. We had to cut off your clothing when we treated you.”

“You? You treated me?” asked Anne gently feeling first her ribs, then her bandaged thigh before touching the top of the splint that held her leg straight.

“It was mainly Brother Aldwyn from Colchester Priory. Myself and the serving women just helped. Now I presume that you’ll need to use the necessarium? Willa, if you could give Lady Anne a shift to wear and her cloak, I’ll fetch thegn Alric and we’ll carry you to the facility. Willa, bring a stool also.”

Alan pulled on socks and boots and a warm woollen jerkin, sitting on the bed to do so, before striding to the door and calling for Alric. Turning back he caught a brief glimpse of breasts as the dress was pulled over Anne’s head. Pulling back the coverlet he instructed, “Roll to your right. I’ll support your left leg, then roll into a sitting position. Put your right foot to the floor. Willa, some slippers please. Thank you. Alric if you could take Lady Anne’s right arm, and as she stands we’ll cross hands under her buttocks and lift.”

In an aside to Anne Alan commented, “I asked for Alric because he’s so old that a flash of a lady’s thigh is unlikely to cause him irresistible urges, and he’s noble enough to make me control my youthful urges. Also he’s about my height, which makes carrying easier.” A few minutes later they were in the bitter cold outside. “The privy is too narrow for us to carry you in, so we’ll put you down standing facing in the correct direction and I’ll help you hop backwards. God, a frozen latrine stinks something awful! My new residence will be much better when I eventually get it built, if it doesn’t bankrupt me first. Now, I’ll retire and Willa will help you sit, place the stool for your leg and then assist you to clean yourself. Alric and I will be outside.”

Standing with their backs to the privy house, breath steaming in the cold air and rubbing their hands together for warmth Alric commented, “A very nice souvenir for you.”

“That is Lady Anne of Wivenhoe. Perhaps a little more than a souvenir,” replied Alan.

Alric nodded gravely. “I have heard of her. She has a large estate and is recently widowed. Her husband, about my age, was Aelfric. He marched north with King Harold to Stamford Bridge.”

Alan inclined his head. “And like many others, did not march back. A common enough story with three major battles within six months. How many dead altogether? Six thousand, eight thousand? And as usual they would have been the best the country had to offer.”

Alric pursed his lips. “Perhaps the events before Hastings were beneficial to you Normans. However, not all of the fallen were good and noble. From what I heard the people of Wivenhoe are well rid of Aelfric. A hard-drinking man- nothing wrong with that, we all do that. But with a violent and abusive temper when drunk. Lady Anne had been married to him for a couple of years and may not be lamenting his loss over much. I know that if I was younger and single, I would be pressing my suit for such a desirable catch. My wife Hilda, of course, would cut my balls off if she thought I was even considering it.” he concluded with the wry smile of a happily married man.

“Isn’t Hilda fifteen years younger than you?” asked Alan with a smile.

“And I feel it every morning when I get up after trying to satisfy her,” agreed Alric with a smirk. “How are you and Edyth getting on?”

“Well enough,” replied Alan shortly. Alric nodded and walked a few paces away before unbuttoning his trousers and relieving himself in a stream of steaming liquid against a fence-post. As the whole Hundred knew, Edyth was a very good looking young woman, reputed to be a handful between the sheets, but as a miller’s daughter and as brainless as a brick she was hardly suitable marriage material for a wealthy lord. Nonetheless, she was a suitable plaything for any man.

A gentle call from within the privy from Willa and Alan returned to open the door, helped Anne hop out and then he and Alric carried her inside back to the bedroom. They carefully sat her on the bed and Alan instructed her how to roll into a comfortable position while supporting the splinted leg. Extra pillows were placed to allow Anne to sit semi-reclined.

“After such a little effort I feel strangely tired,” commented Anne.

“Not surprising at all,” commented Alan. “I’ll have some food sent in. A meat-broth and fresh bread. If you can keep that down you can have something more substantial this evening. Willa, it’s probably Synne’s turn to sit in, if you’d go and fetch her.”

With a look at Anne’s drawn features and pursed lips he continued “My lady, with your leave I’ll provide some medicine for the pain. The leg in particular will be a problem for some time. Let me know if you feel the bandages on the leg are too tight.” He removed the coverlet. “Wiggle your toes. Good. No! I didn’t say move your foot up and down! That’ll take a few minutes to stop hurting. Just do what I tell you, or ask before you experiment yourself.”

A few minutes later he said, “Here’s your food. Synne help Lady Anne to eat. Good. Now that’s finished you probably want more, but let us wait. A cup of water and then take this potion which will put you to sleep for several hours.”

“What about notifying my people about where I am?” asked Anne wearily.

“Good point. I intended to send a rider to your Hall when the weather breaks to let them know where you are. Now, we know the name of your maid Bathilda, but the other chap at Alresford is about twenty-five, medium height, short blond hair, bad teeth and a brown and green tunic. Who’s he?”

“That would be Bebeodan,” said Anne as she drifted into sleep.

“Well, I’ll get the rider to call in at Alresford and find out is he is still alive and also let them know that at Wivenhoe,” said Alan, suddenly aware that he was talking to a person asleep.

The next few days passed in a similar manner. Alan only dispensed poppy juice when really required and then only in small amounts, preferring to use an infusion of chamomile and willow-bark. Alric had returned home and Alan used several different male servants to help carry Anne to the latrine. Anne objected to the daily sponge bath provided by the elderly and authoritative Lynn, but acquiesced when her objections were abruptly overridden by the forceful comments of the housekeeper. “Lord Alan has directed that this is what is to happen, and by God’s breath those are instructions I intend to follow,” she said very firmly. “He said if I didn’t do it he would!”

Alan kept out of the way at those times. However, he did insist on treating the wound to her thigh every day, with the pulling up of the dress to reveal the groin being an issue every time. Finally he had enough and said abruptly, “Lady, you don’t have anything that I’ve not already seen when I’ve been treating you- or otherwise when I have been with other women. Stop your complaining. The wound itches. That’s good and means it is healing. There’s no inflammation or puss, which frankly given the state the wound was in when it was worked on it is a minor miracle and can only be by God’s good grace- there was dirt and cloth fibres and everything in there. I assure you that my seeing a bit of your thigh will not harm your immortal soul or mine. That is why there are these ladies here to assist and watch, and preserve your reputation. Stop fussing and let me work. Lynn, please hold this end of the bandage while I wind the rest in place, and Synne, please support the leg up so I can slip the bandage underneath.” A few minutes later, and after a deep breath Alan continued. “Now for the ribs. It’s several days since I looked at them, so please remove the dress.”

Much to Alan’s surprise all hell broke loose. Anne hid under the bedclothes, shouting various imprecations that Alan had trouble hearing because they were muffled, the ladies gathered about the bed showed clear disapproval in their pursed lips and narrowed eyes. Alan impatiently pulled the quilt down, revealing a crouched-down Anne and shouted, “God’s blood! What is the matter? I’ve seen your breasts before. It’s not as if they are fantastic. Edyth’s are much better.”

That apparently was not the correct thing to say. While Lynn covered a laugh with a cough, and there was a giggle from the doorway behind, where Alan was reasonably sure that Edyth was watching, Anne went absolutely hysterical. “Bastard! Whore-son! Murderer! Pervert! Pederast!” she shouted, showing her versatility by using three languages.

Recognising an argument that he could not win, even if he was successful, Alan stepped back and raised his hands. “Very well, ladies, if it means so much I’ll step outside and you can arrange Anne’s clothes so I can inspect her ribs while whatever she wants remains covered. Lynn, you have the hot water?”

“Well it was hot, probably tepid by now,” replied Lynn as she pulled up Anne’s dress at the back.

“Doesn’t bother me if it is frozen,” muttered Alan as he waited outside, being given a few interested looks and smirks from the men sitting around the fire in the Hall, who had heard the ruckus. A few moments later he returned and penetrated the protective circle around Anne. Anne was sitting up on the bed, with Lynne carefully using a wet cloth to clean her chest where the bandages had bound tightly for the last few days.

As Alan expected her chest was not a pretty picture, a hand-sized patch of dark purple bruising on the left side of her rib cage surrounded by an area the size of a dinner-plate that was bruised various shades of yellow and brown. Anne looked somewhat subdued at seeing the extent of her injury. “Tell me if this hurts,” said Alan, starting gently pressing with his fingertips along the ribs on her back. A couple of minutes later he asked, “No pain from that? Good! Now this is going to hurt.”

He first sounded the ribs on her right hand side and then very gently those on the left. At each touch near the bruised area Anne unconsciously flinched and gasped. “It appears you received a glancing blow from a kick by a horse. These ribs are broken here, here, and here. This one seems to be broken in two places, here and here. I’ll need to bind you up tightly again. Brother Aldwyn put the ribs into alignment before your chest was bound the night you were injured. They seem to be progressing well and a callus is forming on the point of each break, but if there’s any movement they are likely to puncture your lung, so we have to keep them from moving.”

Anne gasped as new bindings were applied. “I can hardly breathe!” she complained.

“Good, I’ve got them tight enough then,” replied Alan laconically. “And that will help keep you quiet”. Anne shot him a look containing daggers. “Now, I’ll need to change the chest bandages every three or four days, mainly for cleanliness. You’ll need them for about three to four weeks. The re-binding of your leg wound stays at once a day, and the stitches will need removal in a couple more days. The weather is better today and I sent a rider early this morning to your manor to let them know where you are and to bring some clothes and a couple of your own servants.”

“Excellent. I’ll be able to thank you for your help and be off your hands then,” replied Anne eagerly.

Alan laughed easily. “I’m afraid not. Brother Aldwyn says you’ll have that splint on your leg for at least eight weeks and it’ll be at least four weeks before you can even travel in a cart. Unless you want to walk like a cripple for the rest of your life you’ll just have to put up with our company for a while yet!”

Just before dark Alan was sitting by the fire in the Hall chatting and drinking ale with some of the local thegns and some of the wealthier freemen when there was a commotion of horses arriving outside. Alan sent his steward Kendrick to see what was amiss, while the Norman sergeant Hugh stirred half a dozen Saxon guards to wakefulness.

Ten men, four better dressed than the others, and two women were ushered into the Hall by Kendrick- who indicated to the men that they should remove their swords according to custom and place them with the others in a rack near the door. Each visitor was well-rugged up against the cold in cloaks and furs, but their faces were pinched and red from being bitten by the wind. The eldest of the thegns said, “I’m Wulfgar. This is Aelfhare, Aethelwulf and Esmund. Your man tells us that our Lady Anne rests here. We have come, by your leave, to spend the night and take her home on the morrow.”

Alan leaned across and whispered in the ear of the cheorl Godfrith, with whom he had been dining, “What is it with you English and the elves? Judging by the names, half the male population seems to be related to elves.” He then he spoke up. “I’m Alan, lord of this demesne. My other guests tonight are thegns Eadwold and Brctsi and cheorl Godfrith. Kendrick! Have Lynn provide our guests with mulled ale and food and show them a place by the fire. Welcome you are, but if you wait to take your lady home, you will have a long wait. It’ll be four weeks before she’s fit to travel as she was sore hurt by her encounter in the forest. If a dozen of you stay the month in this Hall I dare say you may wear out your welcome, but I am sure we can find room for the two maids and a couple of men, and that Lady Anne will be pleased to have some of her own folk tend her.”

Wulfgar frowned as he unclipped his cloak and shook off the dampness before setting it by the fire to dry. “And where is our lady?” he asked, looking around the Hall, barely illuminated by the light of the fire and half a dozen rush torches.

Alan replied’ “In the bed-chamber.” He received a threatening glance from Wulfgar. “I told you she’s sore hurt and she needs bed-rest. She’s probably asleep by now, but you and the two maids… what are your names? Udelle and Esme? Fine! You may enter and see her to reassure your minds. One of the girls can sit with the lady instead of Synne, whose turn it was tonight.”

Wulfgar returned a few minutes, quite apologetic. “I’m sorry. We didn’t know how badly she was injured. We thank you for your care of her and indeed for her rescue. What happened?” Alan waited until Wulfgar and the others had taken a seat by the fire and started to eat and drink before he gave an abbreviated version of events. “It’s fortunate you happened along,” said Wulfgar. “These footpads are a curse on the countryside and are worse on the byways now that the Normans at Colchester are regularly patrolling the main roads, forcing the bandits onto the by-ways.”

“I intend to do something about those in that forest. The bodies of the bandits we killed have been shown about and the local hunters and poachers questioned We think we know who they are, and where may be their several hiding places. I intend to root them out in a few days time and to decorate the hanging-tree at Alresford.”

Wolfgar nodded his agreement and then changed the subject. “Lady Anne asks if she can have some more of that potion that you have that takes away pain?”

Alan shook his head. “I’m afraid not. The priests tell us a little pain is good for the soul, but the main reason is that the poppy juice quickly takes a hold of a man, or woman, and he gets a craving for it that destroys his mind and body. It can only be used for severe pain and then just for a few days, or to relieve the suffering of those who are dying. Talking about priests, Brother Godwine will be visiting us tomorrow and holding Mass in the village church at Terce, an hour or so after sun-up. You’ll hear the bell ringing. I’ll have him come here afterwards and shrive Anne and give her the Sacrament. Your people are welcome to attend the service at the church.”

Next morning Alan was standing in the front row of the small church, which was packed to the rafters with both the villagers and Anne’s people for the weekly Mass. Mass was conducted in the Anglo-Saxon tongue without prayer books or hymnbooks, the mainly illiterate congregation chanting the few responses and the hymns from memory. The semi-literate priest, short and portly with a tonsured head and slightly grubby white vestments, went through the liturgy mechanically and without enthusiasm.

Still not used to a service performed in the vernacular, rather than Latin, Alan missed most of the responses and stood quietly during the hymn singing, while the remainder of the congregation joined in with gusto but little harmony. After taking the sacrament he moved to the back to allow room for the other worshippers and at the conclusion of the service he slipped out to wait for Wulfgar and the rest of the Wivenhoe contingent to emerge.

After grasping forearms with Wulfgar Alan stood and watched as he and his men rode north towards home. Wulfgar had promised to collect the maid Bathilde as they passed through Alresford on the way home. He left behind two male servants and the two maids to look after Anne’s needs, as well as a bundle of clothes.

After conducting Brother Godwine to the Hall to minister to Anne’s spiritual needs, Alan retired to the Solar to sit at the small table that he used as his office and which was covered in piles and rolls of parchment. He studied the demesne accounts and was soon rubbing his eyes from peering in the dim light at the small poorly formed script on the sheets in front of him. As he did so he could hear Anne and Godwine conversing quietly in Latin on the other side of the lath dividing wall.

After Godwine had left Alan put the papers aside with a sigh. He was sure that Kendrick was cheating him, but the coins in the strongbox, normally kept in the bed-chamber but now kept here in the Solar, balanced near enough and he was frustrated that he couldn’t identify any discrepancies in the accounts.

After Brother Godwine had departed back to the rectory Alan went up to share the main meal of the day with Anne shortly after noon. Anne had for several days been on a full diet of roast meats, vegetables, bread and preserved fruits (today pears with fresh cream) washed down with a mediocre red wine that was the best that Alan could purchase at Colchester but which had not travelled well from France. This was followed by nuts and mead. Anne was still not talking to Alan and studiously ignored him as he sat at the table near her bed while she ate from a tray placed on her lap while sitting up in bed.

Alan was distracted and picked at his food instead of eating with his usual gusto. “I couldn’t help but notice that you were speaking in Latin with Brother Godwine, and speaking it a good deal better than he. Do you also read and write?”

Anne replied shortly, “It would be a poor daughter of a merchant who could not read and write, and tally also.”

Alan raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Daughter of a merchant?” he queried.

With a laugh Anne replied, “Yes, Frenchman. Things are different here in England. My father, Orvin, is a wealthy merchant in Ipswich and owns two trading cogs that travel to Scandinavia and Denmark. Here in England they appreciate merchants. A merchant who finances three trading passages overseas is deemed of thegn-rank. My father does that every month! Aelfric seemed to my father a good choice as a husband for me. He was middle aged, wealthy and with a large estate. It was a pity that my father didn’t send anybody down here to ask about him.

“I came at fourteen years of age with a good dowry. He was fat and drank excessively. He had a vicious temperament and a violent temper even when sober. When he was drunk, as he was every night…. The frequent physical beatings were one thing. His taking a different woman to his bed-chamber most nights, with me sleeping by the hall-fire was another, although that at least spared me from matrimonial rape every night. The disgrace I had to face with the members of the household was another. I must admit that I was not devastated with grief when he and his men failed to return from Stamford Bridge. The last four months or so since he left have been a period of grace and I’ve enjoyed starting to exercise some authority for the first time.”

Alan reached across and lightly squeezed Anne’s hand in sympathy.

After a moment he said, “To change the topic, I’ll be leaving shortly with most of the warriors and returning to the forest at Alresford. We intend to take the rest of the outlaws in that forest. Do you want their heads bringing back here for you to inspect?”

With his growing insight into Lady Anne, Alan was not surprised at the fierce answer. “Yes! Kill them all and bring their heads here for me to see!” Alan raised a cup of mead in a silent salute.

Late that afternoon Alan, Hugh, Baldwin and the his now twenty Saxon men-at-arms rode out towards Alresford, together with the archers Roger and Warren and their twenty archer proteges. There they met Alric, Edwold, Aelfric, Godwin, Alstan, Harold, Edward, Leofstan, Withgar, Ketal, Ednoth and Leofson- the senior thegns of the Hundred. Each thegn had brought at least half a dozen men. Alan intended the manhunt the next day to go well and had no intention of waiting until the next Hundred court in two weeks time to mete out justice.

Edwold had questioned all the swine-herders who took their beasts into the forest to eat the fallen acorns, the hunters and the poachers. They had indicated five places as being bases for the outlaws. There were close on 100 men ready to hunt early the next morning.

There was a bright moon shining when the men set out at three in the morning to all be in position at first light. The men wore no armour other than the padded jerkins of the archers. Alan felt that a body of men moving through the forest in full armour would make too much noise and alert their targets. Based on his previous experience of the brigand’s lack of ability with arms and the fact that they expected to achieve total surprise, Alan felt that armour was superfluous.

He had chosen what he felt was one of the more promising locations, which was also one of the closest. It was an abandoned and derelict woodcutter’s hut a little over a mile into the forest and he was shown the way by one of the swine-herders. They arrived well before time and surrounded the hut, although as the swine-herder commented it appeared they were wasting their time as there was no smoke rising from a fire within and no signs of recent habitation. They sat huddled in their cloaks, their breath freezing before their faces in the bitterly cold night.

At first light Alan waved to the ten-strong assault party. They rushed forward and Hugh kicked in the door- although Alan was sure that it would have opened to a more conventional approach. After a few moments Alan slipped his sword back into its scabbard and lit a rush torch to have a look around. Clearly the hut had been used recently by a number of men, but not for the last few days. After a few moments debate with himself he decided not to burn the hut down but leave it there in case the brigands returned at some time in the future. This was one place that they could come back to check again if needed in the future.

They were the first troop back at Alresford, and were sitting close to an open fire in the yard outside the Hall eating a second breakfast of cold meat, fresh bread and cheese washed down with ale when Edwold returned with a coffle of four prisoners chained together at the ankles. These prisoners had been taken at a cave to which Edwold had been directed by a poacher. Edward’s party returned empty-handed, but Alric finally arrived with five prisoners from a rough cabin on the far side of the forest, and told of another three who had been shot down and killed by the archers as they tried to flee.

Alan clasped each of the thegns by the arm. “A job well done!” he enthused. “Nine decorations for your gallows tree, Edwold. After you’ve eaten and drunk, let us give them a quick and fair trial. Then we can hang them and be on the way home by noon. Oh! By the way, I’ll need the heads for Lady Anne. Do you still have the heads from last week? Good!”

The trial was held in the tithe-barn, a door placed horizontally on boxes acting as the judges’ bench. Alan was sitting as Chief-Judge, with all the twelve local thegns present to give judgment. The barn was nearly empty of produce with just a few sacks of grain and bundles of hay sitting on the dirt floor, but was packed with every one of the villagers. The smell of unwashed bodies hit Alan in the face as he walked in and saw the nine prisoners, filthy and in tattered clothing, lined up against the far wall with their hands and ankles manacled.

This was an easy case. The accused had been apprehended living in the forest clearly as outlaws and in each location there had been items that were clearly stolen. Most of the men were already resigned to their fate and stood apathetically, many failing even to give their names when questioned. Edwold and Alric gave sworn evidence about finding the men, the location of the hideouts and the goods recovered. When asked, none of the accused had any witnesses to call and Alan ruled that in the circumstances none were oath-worthy. One, a small thin boy of about twelve, with a dirty face and lousy torn clothes, was sobbing quietly.

“You, boy!” demanded Alan gruffly. “What are you doing here with these men?”

“Please, master,” came the hesitant reply in a thin voice. “My father brought me to the forest when he joined these men before Christmastide.”

“Which one is he?” asked Alan.

“He went out and didn’t return a week or so ago, along with a number of other men from our camp. Three returned and said the others had been killed in an attack.”

“Are those three here?” said Alan continuing the interrogation.

“Those two,” said the boy pointing. “The other one died this morning when he tried to run away.”

Alan laughed. “He was good at that, but not good enough this time when we were ready for him! Now did you ever take part in any robbery?”

“No, master! I was just used as a camp servant,” said the boy.

“Do any of you others gainsay what the boy has said? No? Well, perhaps you won’t hang with the others, but your case is difficult. You have no kin to give frankpledge on your behalf. The law permits me only to execute, fine or mutilate felons. Now, the twelve ealdormen, how say you on the guilt of the accused?”

Each of the thegns replied in turn, “Guilty!”

“Even the boy?” asked Alan.

All twelve nodded and Alric replied, “Even the boy.”

“I’m not supposed to pass sentence of death on any person not yet sixteen years of age,” said Alan thoughtfully.

“Well, that’s why you have your job as judge and I say you’re welcome to it,” replied Alric. “It’s your problem, not mine. You can always just cut off his right hand and tell him to abjure the county.”

“Excuse me, Sir” said one of the prisoners, who had been looking quietly confident during the proceedings. “May I have a private word with you before you pass sentence?” Alan noted that the man’s voice was somewhat less rustic than the churlish tones of the others and that he was slightly better dressed. “No, but you may speak before sentence is carried out. Now, I sentence each of you, except the boy…” Alan looked at the list in front of him “…Linn… to hang by the neck until dead, and to be buried in unconsecrated ground. Those of you who give your names to Edwold may be shriven by the priest. You have twenty minutes to make your peace with God. Now clear the Hall except for the ealdormen, Linn- and I think your name is Pearce, is it not?” The prisoner nodded.

The barn emptied quickly and Alan said to Pearce, “Speak quickly! You have an appointment with the hangman in a few minutes.”

Pearce inclined his head. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. This is not just a simple matter of a band of outlaws. Atelic, the leader who you killed last week, was given this area as his own, just as you were given your demesne. You’ve cleaned out the forest for now, but another band will be here within a few months. There’s a man from up Lexden way who is coordinating the outlaws. You’ll have noticed an increase in attacks in your Hundred. In Lexden Hundred they’re already starting to attack and sack villages. I can provide you or the sheriff with information that is well worth my life, and perhaps more.”

“Edwold, have these two manacled to the wall and set a man as guard. We’ll see the others hang and then discuss this further,” instructed Alan.

At the edge of the village was an oak tree with a particularly long horizontal branch- the hanging tree. When Alan and the ealdormen walked slowly up to the tree each of the seven men to be executed had a noose about their neck attached to a length of rope. Each stood in turn on a wooden box, which was then kicked away leaving the victim swinging in the air. There was only one box, so the process took some time. The hangman had not done a good job and only two of the seven died of a broken neck. The others hung gasping, legs thrashing as they slowly strangled. The villagers laughed and pointed, and some were taking bets on how long it would take individuals to die. The last took more than 45 minutes.

“Well, a good day’s hunting!” said Alan to the ealdormen as the crowd dispersed. “Edwold, I have to go to Colchester tomorrow to collect a new hauberk being made for me. Keep the two felons here tonight and I’ll take them to the sheriff tomorrow.”

Edwold was disappointed that Alan remembered he wanted the felons’ heads, which meant that he couldn’t leave the bodies hanging on the tree as a salutary lesson.

With the journey slowed by the cart it was nearly dark when they arrived back at Alan’s Hall in Thorrington. Alan had Anne carried out to the cart. As she looked at the pile of heads in the back of the cart a savage gleam came to her eyes. “How many?”

“Fourteen, including the seven we killed when we rescued you. We left another three dead in the forest and two will go to the sheriff for his decision,” replied Alan.

“And that is all of them?” she insisted.

“Every last motherless son,” said Alan with conviction.

Anne stood on tip-toe to kiss Alan’s stubbled cheek and said, “That is the best present anybody has ever given me.”

‘God save me from vengeful women’ thought Alan before replying, considering Anne’s apparent affinity with Boadicea. “The Lord said, ‘Justice is mine’. But I believe that we need to give him a hand whenever we can,” he said. “What do you want to do with them?”

“Put them on stakes at the northern entrance to the forest. Perhaps that will deter others,” instructed Anne.

Back in the Hall Alan had a chair and foot-stool set up for Anne by the fire and a substantial meal prepared. It had been a long day.

“I’ll be going to Colchester tomorrow and will pass through Wivenhoe. Is there anything that you want bringing back?” asked Alan. Anne rattled off a short list of clothes and the like. “You’ve been hereabouts for several years,” continued Alan.” Do you know anybody who may be able to act as a scribe for me? I have the Hundred court once a month and I can’t conduct the court and take notes at the same time. Preferably somebody with some knowledge of West Saxon law, but at least able to read English. I inherited copies of the Dooms setting out the local laws when I took over my fief, but I can barely read English.”

Anne pondered for a few moments and then said, “There’s a man who teaches in the priory school at Colchester. Osmund is his name. He’s young, about twenty,” Anne smiled as both she and Alan were younger than that. “His father was a priest, so he learned his letters while young. He wasn’t accepted for the priesthood himself because he asks too many difficult questions.”

Alan nodded his thanks and then asked. “Given that you can read, would you like me to borrow some books from the priory library?”

“You can do that?” queried Anne.

“As long as it’s nothing too fancy. No illuminations or anything like that. I’m sure I can talk my way around the librarian. English? Latin? Greek?”

“No Greek,” replied Anne. “My scholarship didn’t stretch that far. Yes, certainly anything to read would help pass the time, as does being allowed to come out of isolation in the bedchamber and spend time in the Hall.”

“Your condition is improving and you’re regaining your strength. You lost a lot of blood. If you wait just a moment, I have something that might interest you,” said Alan, carefully clearing the table near Anne and wiping it clean, before disappearing into the Solar. He was back in a couple of minutes carrying a large and very thick leather-bound book, which he placed on the table. “This is only on loan to pass the time,” he said as Anne opened the cover.

“A Bible!” she exclaimed. “A real Latin Bible! Not even our parish church has one!” She turned the pages carefully. “It’s beautiful!”

“Thank you,” replied Alan. “That’s actually half of the Bible, the other half is still in the Solar. I hope you can read it. My writing improved as I went along.”

“You wrote it yourself?” said Anne in a tone of disbelief.

“I copied it. It was my writing exercise for four hours a day over four years. I finished it just before I left the monastery at Rouen. It’s plain and un-illuminated, but a fair copy nonetheless. I read sections myself most evenings, or when I am troubled. I had it brought over from Normandy with some of my other things after I took up residence. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my lady, I’ve been up since three this morning and walked and ridden many miles. I think that it’s time I retired for the night. When you’re ready, call Kendrick for assistance- don’t try to get back to the bedchamber by yourself. And take the Bible with you.”

As she idly turned the pages Anne considered her host. A warrior and leader of men. Undoubtedly brave, yet literate, thoughtful, careful of his obligations and lacking in arrogance. His treatment of even his slaves showed care and common courtesy. Judging by the brief look that she had so far had at the books of account, he was a wealthy man who owned or controlled much of Tendring Hundred. And he was a good-looking young man. All in all, the man was a most unusual combination.

Alan and his small party of four Saxon men-at-arms set out on horseback for Colchester early next morning, with two additional horses, being the price that Alan had agreed with the armourer for his new hauberk. They collected the outlaws Linn and Pearce, who rode the spare horses- in Linn’s case poorly as he had never been trained to ride.

As they rode through the southern gate of the old stone Roman wall that surrounded the town, kept in reasonable condition because the town was on the River Colne and over the years had been subject to frequent attack from raiders from the Eastern Seas, the priory bell was tolling for Nones at mid-afternoon. They stopped briefly at an inn, ‘The Three Hounds’, which was nearly in the middle of the town. Alan to dropped off his overnight bag and booked a room- his men would sleep by the fire in the Commons- and arranged for the horses to be stabled before he took the short walk to the newly-built castle to see the sheriff. They soon found that Robert fitzWymarc was away and not expected back for a week, but his deputy Roger saw them promptly enough and heard Pearce’s story with a cynicism similar to that of Alan himself.

“What do you think, Sir Alan?” asked the Deputy-Sheriff.

“I don’t know,” replied Alan thoughtfully, sipping at a cup of wine with which he had been provided. “The story doesn’t get any more convincing the second time you hear it. Still, there may be truth in it and it may be worth paying attention to what he says. I think it’s just a story to save his life- but it’s a very good story. Whether it’s good enough for him to avoid getting his neck stretched, I’ll leave to Sir Robert. The boy I’d just let go, but a week in the cells awaiting the sheriff’s pleasure won’t do him any harm. I’d appreciate it if you let me know what happens eventually.” With an abrupt change of topic Alan continued, “Has the warrant arrived as to when the campaign to occupy the north is intended to start, when we muster and where?”

“Yes indeed. Word was received several days ago. We muster a week after the Feast of the Annunciation, on the 2nd of April at Alan of Brittany’s castle in Cambridge. That’s in three weeks time. You’ll be aware that King William intends to return to Normandy shortly? No? Well, he’ll be leaving any day and his half-brother Bishop Odo of Bayeux and his cousin William fitzOsbern will be left in charge here in England.

“FitzOsbern will be leading the expedition north. Odo is busy in Kent with various disturbances down there. The English and their new Norman neighbours are having some differences that they’re sorting out with the sword. I think that it’s probably some upstart Normans stepping on sensitive English toes.” Alan remembered that fitzWymarc was a part-Breton, and presumably some of his men such as Roger had come to England at the request of Edward the Confessor a dozen or more years before. They probably viewed themselves almost as locals. Roger continued, “If needed, there’ll be a second muster six weeks later at Nottingham to replace those who have completed their forty days service. You have your men recruited?” Alan nodded. “Good. Sir Robert will be marching with our first contingent on the 30th March, six days after The Annunciation Day of the Lord, if you would care to join us on the journey?” Alan agreed readily and then took his leave as it was getting late.

After a walk to the priory in the gathering darkness Alan knocked on the wooden door in the stone wall surrounding the priory buildings. He was permitted entry, received directions to the school and was told that Osmund was currently teaching a class. In fact two classes were in progress when Alan walked into the cold and dimly-lit teaching-hall. A group of youngsters were being taught letters by an elderly monk, each student peering closely at the page in front of them as they worked. A younger man was teaching a small group of youths the principals of rhetoric. Just then the bell for Vespers began to toll, ending work for the day. The students quickly packed up their school-things before attending the service.

As he strode over to intercept the younger teacher Alan noted that he was thin, of middling height with lank dark hair almost to his shoulders and had a face dominated by a large nose. His tunic and breeches had once been of reasonable quality but were now thread-bare, but he proudly wore the traditional seax long-knife of the freeman at his belt.

“Excuse me!” called Alan in Latin. “Are you Osmund the scribe?”

“I suppose that is as good a description as any- that or lareow, or teacher. Yes, I’m Osmund,” came the reply in the same language, in a surprisingly deep and firm voice. Osmund studied the tall, well dressed but not ostentatious noble striding towards him, sword and scabbard swinging slightly from his baldric as he hurried. “What service may I be to my lord?”

“I’m Alan of Thorrington and I have need of an honest and skilled scribe. Lady Anne of Wivenhoe has recommended you to me as being pr?ttig and anfeald, a man both astute and honest. May we talk?”

Osmund hesitated as Alan reached him and stood a pace away. “Certainly, my lord. Perhaps if we off to the refectory where they are about to serve the evening meal we can sit and talk at our leisure.”

With a flash of insight Alan realised that the free meal that Osmund received as part of his teaching stipend was probably all that was keeping body and soul together. Having extensive experience himself with the poor fare and small meals provided at a priory he reached forward and clapped Osmund on the shoulder and exclaimed, “We can do better than that. I’m staying at ‘The Three Hounds’ and they have a good board. Come and eat with me.”

They walked through the darkened streets of the town, Osmund with the confidence of a man with an empty purse and the knowledge he had nothing worth stealing, Alan with the watchfulness that a warrior shows in any circumstances, automatically examining each dark alley as they passed.

‘The Three Hounds’ was a high-class inn, catering for merchants, guildsmen and the well-to-do. The Commons was warm and dimly lit by rush torches attached to the walls and posts by sconces. The room was slightly smoky, with the smoke from the fire in the central hearth drifting through the air before slowly finding its way out of the small hole left in the roof. There was a quiet buzz of conversation as the dozen or so customers conversed in quiet tones over the small tables scattered around the room. Alan’s escort of four warriors looked quite out of place, playing dice together in a corner. Alan chose an unoccupied table a little distance from the fire and relaxed as he sat down, using one foot to drag a spare stool opposite him and then putting both booted feet up as he leaned back. Osmund sat carefully upright on his own chair. The inn-keeper, a big fat middle-aged man with a bald head, hurried across, wiping his hands clean on his apron as he did so.

“What can I get you, Masters?” he asked in a gravelly tone.

“Two quart pitchers of your best ale. What food do you have tonight?” demanded Alan.

“Pottage, of course, flavoured with nice fat bacon. We also have a good leek soup. Leverpostej- Danish pork-liver paste on dark rye bread with pickled beet, onions and cucumber. Goat stew with onions and herbs. Very nice! Pork rissoles with sage, shallots and parsley. Buttered vegetables and roast gourd. The oven is still lit, so we can whip up a nice steak and kidney pie or chicken pie. For dessert an apple pie, fresh fruit or cheeses. We have some fine Gorgonzola, Camembert, Emmenthal and an unusual very hard but piquant cheese that we get from a local cheese-maker- he ages it for several years,” replied the inn-keeper.

Alan paused for a moment. “Leek soup, Leverpostej with wortes and with a dash of dark vinegar. Then the goat stew with gourd. While we’re eating those, cook a steak and kidney pie for two, which we’ll have with the buttered vegetables. Apple pie and a cheese platter. Plenty of fresh bread. Keep the ale coming.”

After a nod the inn-keeper walked off towards the kitchen, shouting to the serving-wench behind the counter to bring the ale. The good-looking blonde-haired lass turned to the firkin behind her and adroitly drew two quart pitchers before walking with swaying hips across the tavern to the table and placing the pitchers before the two diners.

“Much better than eating at the refectory, don’t you think?’ asked Alan as he saw Osmund carefully studying the well-filled low-cut front of the serving-wench’s dress. Osmund grunted a reply.

Soup and bread arrived promptly and for the next hour the two men worked their way through the various courses as they arrived. As they ate Alan sounded Osmund out, firstly as to his abilities as a clerk. Osmund said that he was skilled in scribing in Latin and English and was reasonably capable in Norman French. He expressed a capability to read, but not write, Attic Greek, and to be able to make himself understood in verbal Celtic, French, Flemish, Danish and Norse. Given that Norse, English and Danish had a close relationship and most people who could speak one language could make himself understood in another if using simple words, this was perhaps not quite as great a list of achievements as it may at first have appeared.

Alan had one of his guards fetch parchment, ink and quill from his room, and Osmund showed that he was capable of taking verbatim dictation at reasonable speed, despite his consumption of ale. He also showed that he was able to quickly and accurately figure sums.

“That’s only the rough draft, of course,” said Osmund referring to his transcription. “Usually I’d re-write it properly later.”

Alan had not noticed any appreciable problems with style and form and was quite happy to accept Osmund’s ‘rough draft’ as the final copy. He asked Osmund about his past.

“Well, my father was a priest. It’s not unusual for priests in England to be married, of course. He and my mother taught me my basic letters and when I was nine I was sent to the abbey school at Cambridge. I learned there under a number of teachers. You’ll be familiar with Cambridge’s reputation for scholarship? I was an oblate and then a novice. Err… I proved somewhat precocious and asked too many difficult questions and the abbot decided I should not become a monk. I was seventeen then. I was fortunate that the abbot here in Colchester, who is a friend of my father’s, offered me a position as a teacher and I’ve been here for the last three years, apart from a year when I travelled with an entertaining troupe to France, Normandy, Flanders, Denmark, Norway and Scandinavia. I sing,” he added.

Given the similarity of their backgrounds Alan felt a strong fellow-feeling towards Osmund and also felt that he was honest and to be trusted. “As I mentioned, I’m looking for a clerk to record the details of the Hundred court and my Manor court and to keep my books of account. I have a steward who I suspect of cheating me and who needs close supervision. The pay would be two shillings a week and your board in my Hall. Would you be interested in the position?” asked Alan as he ate a hunk of fresh buttered bread with Gorgonzola cheese.

Osmund nearly dropped his pitcher of ale. Two shillings a week was as much as a huscarle earned, far more than the few pence he received for teaching, which barely paid for the cost of the vermin-infested garret that he called home. Osmund stammered his thanks and acceptance. Alan tossed a leather purse on the table, landing with a heavy thud. “Usually pay is monthly in arrears, but you may have some debts you need to clear before you leave, so here is two weeks pay in advance. When can you start?”

Osmund assured Alan that he would present himself at Thorrington in four days time. Given the late hour and Osmund’s consumption of a large quantity of ale, Alan suggested that Osmund sleep by the fire in the Commons with his own troops. Just then the serving wench bustled up to clear the table and with a direct look at Alan asked, “Is there anything else I can do for you tonight?” The lass had grown prettier with each passing pitcher of ale and Alan was tempted, but after a moment declined. After all, on the morrow he would be back at home with Edyth.

Next morning was market day. After breaking his fast with bread and cheese, Alan went to the armourer’s workshop, having one of his escort lead the two horses that were to form the payment. Alan chatted with Gimm, one of the armourer’s young apprentices, while he was being fitted into his armour and Gimm’s master was outside inspecting the horses. Apparently business was slow and the apprentices had been told that one of them was to be put off, but not which one of the three. Gimm was close to completing his apprenticeship and, thinking how convenient it would be to have an armourer in his fort, Alan made another job offer that was quickly accepted. Alan told Gimm to travel to Thorrington with Osmund and to draw up a list of the tools, equipment and supplies he’d need. Just then the Master Armourer reappeared and expressed himself happy with the horses.

The hauberk required a few minor alterations and with a wink at Gimm Alan arranged to return after mid-day to collect the armour. Then to the market, where Alan tracked down the cheese-maker that supplied ‘The Three Hounds’ and ordered two dozen rounds of various cheeses to be collected by a cart from Thorrington in a few days, with payment to be two for one weight for weight with wheat flour. Next he went to the wine merchant to buy half a dozen firkins of Bordeaux, with payment to be by sacks of flour and barrels of salted fish.

It was mid-day when Alan walked up the hill to the priory, accompanied by the warrior who had previously led the horses. Osmund had told Alan that the librarian was Brother Leanian, an elderly monk who apparently guarded the tomes in his care as closely as if they were virgins. Deliberately arriving half an hour before the service for the noon hour of Sext, which was followed by the main meal of the day, Alan had a quick look around the library before he approached its master. The librarian had been observing him since arrival, the priest noting the simple but rich clothing and air of authority of the noble. “Brother Leanian,” said Alan in Latin, “You have quite an impressive collection! Not as extensive as Rouen where I studied, or the University of Paris where I visited a few times, but nevertheless still quite good. Now tell me do you have….”

Half an hour later Alan walked out with a carefully wrapped parcel containing three books. He declined the offer of his warrior, who had been waiting outside, to carry the books and they took the short walk to the armourer’s workshop. This fitting showed that the hauberk was now a perfect fit, and after slipping Gimm a silver penny they walked back to ‘The Three Hounds’. This time Alan let his escort carry the forty-pound weight of the rolled up hauberk, now wrapped in oiled cloth.

Alan was keen to be back at Thorrington by dark, so after a quick meal and settling up with the innkeeper they were on their way out of the East Gate, paid their toll to cross the wooden bridge over river Colne and trotted their way back home.

They arrived at Thorrington at dusk, dismounting stiffly outside the Hall and let the two grooms take the horses away to be rubbed down and fed. Alan stretched his sore legs and stamped his feet as he walked into the dimly lit Hall. He saw Anne sitting on her chair on one side of the fire with her leg supported by a foot-stool, with a pile of parchments and two candles on the bench before her. Edyth was sitting on the other side of the fire. Alan was carrying two parcels. One he placed on a side-table, and then he approached Edyth with the other. She rose and greeted him with a long kiss, before taking her parcel with a squeal of delight. Moments later she had it unwrapped and was holding a long length of deep red velvet cloth against herself, swirling this way and that, before hurrying off to the bedchamber to look at herself in the polished metal mirror.

Alan called for a pint of ale to wash the road dust from his throat, then a jug of wine and food, before sitting next to Anne at the table. After a glance at the parcel on the side-table Anne asked, “And how was your journey to Colchester?”

“Well enough, thank you. I transacted the business I needed to do and met Osmund. I’m grateful for your introduction. He seems an excellent and honest man and just what I need. He’ll be joining us here in a few days, together with a young armourer who was looking for work. The two outlaws are still in the sheriff’s gaol. Robert fitzWymarc is away and his deputy wasn’t prepared to make a decision in his absence. And how was your time?”

Anne switched to speaking Latin, certain that nobody in the Hall but herself and Alan would be able to understand what she said, “I think I’ve found what your steward is up to, or at least some of it,” with a tap on the pile of parchment. “The financial records are very sketchy. The steward says that is because he can’t read or write and the records are only written when Brother Godwine happens to be available. There are months with no records at all and the rest is all very patchy. Some specifics are that you own a mill here and others elsewhere. I own a mill myself, so I have some experience. You send your own grain there to be ground, of course. The number of sacks of flour you receive back is too low. I expect that he also takes a portion of your one-tenth charge for the others in your lands to grind their grain in your mill.”

“That means that the miller must be in on it too!” exclaimed Alan, also in Latin.

“Not necessarily. They won’t keep written records and wouldn’t know what happens to the sacks after they’re loaded on the wagon. Also, the number of pigs you receive as pannage for the right of your geburs to feed their swine in the forest and eat the acorns does not tally with the number of pigs the tax rolls show that they have. The payment for estovers for gathering wood don’t equal the number of cartloads of firewood you receive. I don’t know anything about salt-pans, but I expect that the barrels of salt you receive both from the salt-pans in your own demesne and the others up on the north coast of the Hundred are lower than they should be. Salt is a very expensive item. The barrels of fish you actually receive from your fishermen is less than the rent they are due to pay. You’d expect a few inconsistencies and errors, but this appears to be embezzlement pretty well ‘across the board’.”

As the list had progressed Alan’s face had become first red and then puce with anger. “How much do you think he has stolen from me?” he asked in a low voice that trembled slightly with the effort of controlling his temper.

“My guess is about one penny in the shilling. And he’s been doing it for years, even under Estan, who was illiterate and would have been easy to fool.”

“I’ll hang the bastard!” exclaimed Alan, reverting to Norman French in his anger.

“No you won’t,” said Anne calmly, still in Latin. “You’ll have to prosecute him in the Hundred court and get a conviction. That probably shouldn’t be too hard. But as a free man all he has to do is pay you his wergild, his blood money, of 200 shillings. He must now be a very wealthy man and would have no trouble in making that payment. What you will do,” she instructed severely, “is continue to employ him. Firstly, you don’t have the time to do the job yourself and you don’t have anybody to replace him with just now. Secondly, you’ll shortly have to leave to perform your military obligations. Having a corrupt steward who takes part of your income is better than having no steward and no income at all. Remember that the Quarter Day for payment of rents and taxes is just over two weeks away. What you will do is have Osmund follow Kendrick everywhere, take notes of every transaction and ask every cheorl, gebur, sokeman, cottar, fisherman, miller- everybody- what their obligations are, how much they have paid for the last few Quarter Days and how much they are paying this time. That’ll give you the evidence to convict Kenrick and at least get 200 shillings back. It’ll also give you enough information to allow another steward to take over.”

With an effort Alan unclenched his fists, nodded and then with a smile leaned over and kissed Anne on the cheek. He downed a cup of wine and poured another for himself and Anne and said, “Thank you for your efforts. Now as a reward…” he rose and fetched the parcel from the side-table and unwrapped it himself. He handed Anne a large book, with a somewhat knocked-about leather cover and some torn and stained pages. “Book 1 of Ovid’s Amores. Amores is a collection of 3 books, but I could only get one. It has 15 poems.” He pulled out two others, both in similar condition. “Ars Amatoria, Book 2 of 3 in the series. In Latin, of course. And Solomon and Saturn, an English work in alliterative verse, but the author is unknown. When is your birthday?”

“The fifth of December,” said Anne in confusion. “You mean that you convinced Brother Leanian to lend you these three books?”

“Better. He gave them to me. They are the poorer copies of what he had in the library, as you can tell by their condition. And now they are yours, although I would ask for the opportunity to copy the two Ovid books.”

“But these are a gift beyond price! I can’t accept them. What did you have to do to get them? Pledge your soul to the Devil?” asked Anne breathlessly.

Alan laughed and said, “Nothing so drastic. The priory prides itself on its hospital, but has only eight of the volumes of Hippocrates’ Corpus, which is a set of textbooks, lectures, research, notes and case studies from the ancient Greeks. They’re written in Ionian Greek, which is a real nuisance because that’s as different from Attic Greek as Norman French is from French. I have three volumes, none of which they have. On Fractures, Of Internal Affections and Of Diseases. I’ve agreed to lend those volumes for them to copy. In return they’ll give me a copy of the eight books they have- The Prognostics, On Regimen in Acute Diseases, On the Instruments of Reduction, Of the Pneuma, On Fleshes, On the Diseases of Women, On the Excision of the Foetus, and On Anatomy. And the librarian gave me these three books. He also asked me to look around for copies of the other volumes and if I arrange an exchange for copying, I’ll get a copy of the additional books myself.”

“Bibles, medical treatises. What other wonders do you have hidden in that room?” asked Anne in wonderment.

“Some copies of military treatises, mainly Roman. How to build bridges under fire, how to build and operate siege weapons- everything down to how to ambush or how to divert streams and poison waterholes. I’m very proud of my copies of Vegetius’ Epitome of Military Science and De Re Militari and my Frontinius.”

“Well, I suppose for a warrior it couldn’t all be poetry and medicine,” said Anne, quite bemused. “But I really can’t accept these books. They’re much too valuable.”

“Then consider them on loan and return them if you ever tire of reading them,” compromised Alan, who had by now finished his jug of wine and was mopping up the last of the gravy on his wooden plate from the re-heated mutton and herb stew that had been the main meal of the day for the household. “It’s been a long day and I have to be up early for weapons training with the men shortly after dawn.”

“Why do you do so much training?” queried Anne.

“I’m a professional soldier. I have to be good at my trade. I’m used to two hours a day practice myself, either with sword or lance, and I’m training twenty mounted cavalry. Hugh does some of it and I do some. It’s our responsibility to make sure they are competent when we lead them out. A well-trained warrior with well-practiced skills stands a better chance of surviving on the battlefield. One of Vegetius’ maxims was ‘Men must be sufficiently tried before they are led against the enemy’- although nothing much will help if you get hit by somebody from behind or get hit by an arrow, or run over by a bolting horse for that matter. I’m a damn good swordsman, but if I put my head over the rim of my shield at the wrong time, nothing will stop an arrow hitting me in the throat if that is what God wills. However, I will tell you that facing those two-handed battle-axes loosens my bowels somewhat.”

Edyth had been much taken by Alan’s casual gift of a few shillings worth of cloth and he was still tired when he rose next morning after a strenuous night. The morning was spent of the Fallow Field, drilling the men to ride as a team and to act instinctively to the movements of their leader. Alan spent a considerable part of the day crouched on his haunches drawing pictures of manoeuvres and formations in the dirt and then mounting to lead the men through the manoeuvres firstly at a walk and then at increasing speed.

Dismissing the men just before noon, he instructed them to be at the field in full harness the next day and each subsequent day.

Back in the Solar at the Hall Alan stripped off and bathed off the sweat and dust of the morning’s exertions with a basin of warm water, helped (or hindered) by Edyth. When she had finished drying him Edyth placed his hands on her breasts and pulled him gently in the direction of the straw-filled mattress on the floor.

As a consequence the mid-day meal was served late, a fact that seemed to concern nobody except Anne, who correctly interpreted Edyth’s flushed face and unmistakable aroma. Brother Godwine was visiting and although Alan usually only observed Fridays as a non-meat day, today was Wednesday and therefore a day that was only arguably a non-meat day. As it was Lent and Alan had instructed the cook Otha to prepare a noon-day meal of fish. This was fried flounder with garlic and mustard sauce, individual fish pies (Alan’s pie contained capon but otherwise looked identical) and sauteed scallops in white wine sauce. Pipefarces and cryspes pancakes with jam and cream. Anne sat on Alan’s right, with Brother Godwine beyond her and Edyth to Alan’s left.

“It is kind of you and your cifes harlot to join us at table,” said Anne in Latin, presumably to maintain some degree of privacy.

“I think that the correct word would be nydh?mestre, or mistress, as Edyth is my leman,” replied Alan coldly, with some surprise at the sudden argument. Although he had some experience, of a basic sort, with women, he had not yet experienced jealousy and was accordingly not able to recognise it.

“Whatever,” replied Anne. “Her scamleast shamelessness last night would have made it hard for any to sleep in the Hall, given the amount of noise.”

“I hardly see what it has to do you anybody as I am not married and am not committing adultery- and least of all what it has to do with you. What I do with my mistress, when, where and how often is between her and me,” replied Alan with some asperity. “You seem to be acting like a gebur’s wife who has found her husband rutting in the hayloft with the milk-maid, or perhaps in the barn with one of the sheep!”

Anne coloured at that image. Although the others, even Brother Godwine who could read some Latin but could speak little of the language other than the incantations of the various prayers, could not understand the full content of their conversation, the use of the few English words and the tone of the conversation gave them a hint at what was being discussed. While Alan could not recognise jealousy, Edyth could and smiled quietly to herself.

“And now I hear that you are to march north with the your ‘Bastard’ king’s army to enslave more good Englishmen,” continued Anne heatedly, now in Anglo-Saxon. A hush fell over the Hall.

“What do you mean?” asked Alan with restraint.

“Well, you foreigners come here, invade, kill thousands of Englishmen, dispossess us of our lands and want to turn all our people into slaves,” shouted Anne.

Alan sat back, washed his hands in a herb-scented finger-bowl and considered for a moment. “Firstly, I will accompany William fitzOsbern on his journey north in about three weeks. We leave just after the Feast of the Annunciation and we’ll escort the Hundred’s taxes to Colchester on the way. I’ll take five Englishmen with me. I will also return you to your own manor at that time and arrange for the Infirmarer at the priory to come and visit you two weeks later to check your leg and remove the splints. It’s probably safe for you to start walking with the use of two crutches now.

“Secondly, William of Normandy’s parents were not married, so it is true he is a bastard. It is not a description that I would recommend that you use. He has in the past had removed all four limbs of thirty odd people at Alencon who made jest at his birth, It’s not that he does not acknowledge it, but that as a powerful lord he is not prepared to accept insult.

“Thirdly, he is not just my king, he is yours, and that of every other Englishman. He was anointed by Archbishop Ealdred of York, an Englishman, on Christmas Day just past. What right has he to be king? The same right as Cnut fifty years ago- the right of conquest. The Norwegians and Danes have come and conquered this land many times and been accepted as legitimate kings. Harald Hardrada invaded in early September last year. Had he been successful the king’s court would now be speaking Danish instead of Norman French.

He took a sip of wine and continued, “Incidentally, I would recommend that you learn Norman French as soon as possible, as you’ll need to converse with Normans who do not speak English and you should never rely on an interpreter you don’t know. To return to the issue you raised, what defeated England was its inability to deal with three invasions, including that of Harold Godwinson’s own brother Tostig, and four hard battles in six months. You should be relieved Harald Hardrada and his Vikings aren’t in control of the land. Normans are constantly quarrelling and fighting, but do so for a reason- usually for land or money. Norsemen do it just because they’re bored. Hardrada was a pagan barbarian, only nominally Christian since he had two wives. He was unpopular even with his own people because his cruelty, was dishonest and capricious. He was cunning and clever- but with a joy of bloodshed. To be trusted by nobody, as shown by his actions while in the employ of the Byzantine Empress.

“Fourthly, as far as I am aware no Englishman has so far been dispossessed of lands he lawfully owns. William made promises of land and riches to those who followed him. He has been able to keep those promises from the lands resumed from Harold and his brothers Gyrth and Leofwine. The Godwinsons controlled nearly half of England in their earldoms. They used the land for their own enrichment and advancement.

“Edgar the Aetheling, together with Archbishop Stigand and many others submitted at Berkhampstead. Edwin of Mercia and Morcar of Northumbria submitted shortly after the coronation. So also did Thorkel of Arden, Copsi and many others. Edgar Aetheling, the man the Witengemot elected king after Harold’s death, has been treated as a kinsman and endowed with additional lands, not killed or chased into exile as happened in Cnut’s time. Edward’s wife has been treated well and confirmed in her lands and her dower. There has been no massacre such as Cnut instigated at Christmas 1017, when he had many Eadwig, the then Aetheling, and other high ranking nobles of Mercia murdered. The English royal family has not had to have itself and its heirs smuggled overseas to avoid assassins as it did in Cnut’s day. Englishmen are being confirmed in their lands, and in most of their offices- at a price of course. William never does something for nothing and he has a large amount of mercenaries in his army that he has to pay.

“You made a point about enslavement. Frankly, the biggest embarrassment I have is the fact that I now own fourteen men and their families, my theows. They are Christians. In Normandy we don’t own men, women and children, able to sell them at whim. I know that for most that status is only temporarily, usually for not being able to pay debts or fines, except for the war captives. How many do you own yourself? I really don’t know what to do with them. They’ve been useful for the last few months in working to build my new fort, along with the labour from the cottars and the sokemen, but what do I do with them in the longer term? Owning people and being able to sell them is distasteful to me. I could emancipate them and make them cottars, freemen who work for me three days a week in return for the rent on their cottage. That would accord with traditional English custom.

“You English have a highly stratified society. You have the nobles, the earls. The earls comprised just four families, those of Godwin, Leofric, Siward and Bamburgh. The Kings Thegns were several hundred men. The lesser thegns amounted to probably 5,000- now after the four battles of last year perhaps 2,000. The cheorls, the sokeman and the cottars are all free, but many live in poverty. And there are the slaves. I understand that one man in five in England is a slave. Fortunately I have many less. A villein is almost free, in that he is tied to the land and he passes with the sale of the land, but he is usually a wealthy peasant. He would be given land and a plough and oxen at my cost. He would owe me three days a week of labour and the use of his plough and team and ploughing time and extra labour at harvest time. How is he worse off than a freeman, a sokeman who owes three days a week in labour but has to provide his own plough and oxen? To be fair, a cheorl or sokeman can sell what land he has, which a villein cannot, but other than that there is little practical difference.

“I’m perfectly content with the people I have and intend to make no changes, other than to manumit my slaves. Thegns, cheorls, sokeman and cottars will remain unaffected. The only thing that I can see that will change the very generous way that King William has treated his former enemies is if they plot or revolt against him. If that happens, then his wrath will be terrible to behold and there’ll be devastation and slaughter on a large scale. He rewards loyalty, and punishes disloyalty with utmost severity.

“Do you intend to free your slaves? William and the new Norman lords have sworn to keep to the laws of the Confessor. I, and I expect, our king, will do so. A few recently arrived Normans may not. But again that will be no different to the past and when this comes to William’s attention he will deal with it if necessary.” Alan wiped his hands on the table-cloth. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have lost my appetite and will go about my duties.” He did, however, slip the capon pie into his pocket and carry a quart jug of ale out with him.

Alan spent the early afternoon with Kendrick the steward making the arrangements for the ploughing of the demesne fields. It was the end of the first week in March and the ground was no longer frozen hard. Alan had divided his own demesne into thirds and intended to implement the three-field system. The first of the sokeman had started to plough their own fields and it was time for Alan to insist on his rights of priority. With the coming of the ploughing season and the start of sowing early the following month, work on the fort, which had been proceeding slowly in any event, would have to cease. The cutting down of many hundreds of trees for making the palisades for the fort had been used as an opportunity to astart part of the forest, the first step in turning it into grazing land or plough-land. An area of perhaps twenty acres had been cleared and added to Alan’s personal demesne. The back-breaking work of clearing the tree stumps and roots would begin in May and would be a job that would probably take several years.

Later Alan rode through the sunny afternoon with an escort of four men to Ramsey both to visit his horse stud and to meet with Alric the thegn whose Hall was on the outskirts of the Tendring. Alan visited the stud first, knowing that a visit to Alric’s Hall would take many hours, as the thegn was an excellent host. The stud was located on grazing land about a mile from the village of Ramsey. There was a cluster of eight cottages, a barn and the stable with a large number of stalls formed into a “U” shape. Nearby was the fenced training-yard. The land was fenced into ten paddocks. Four of these contained mares, nearly all with foals at foot. Two contained yearlings and two contained stallions and mares of two years of age. Two much smaller paddocks each contained a single stallion. The grass had only just started to grow and each paddock had a pile of hay and a trough of oats, as well as a trough of water. The horses still had their winter coats of hair and looked quite rough.

Alan was met by the stud-master Roweson, an elderly thickset white-haired cheorl who had been Kemp’s stud-master for ten years or so.

“God Hael, Roweson!” said Alan as he swung his leg to dismount.

“God Hael, Ealdor!” replied Roweson easily, despite only having met Alan on his one previous visit to the stud shortly after he assumed the manor. After a few moments two young lads ran up carrying pitchers of ale for the five visitors, which they quickly quaffed to settle the dust in their throats.

“How goes the herd?” asked Alan, wiping beer froth from his upper lip.

“Much the same as when I saw you last two months ago,” replied Roweson in his slow and deliberate speech. “Thirty-four breeding mares. We lost one during the winter. Twenty-nine foals, twelve colts and seventeen fillies. Thirty-two yearlings. eighteen mares and fourteen males- all now gelded as you instructed. Ten two-year olds, after you took those twenty horses several months back, all mares. And the two stallions of course.”

“The mares will be coming on heat over the next month or so. Are any on heat at the moment?” asked Alan.

“Six of them, down in that paddock there,” replied Roweson with a nod of his head.

“You’ve been breeding rounceys, and doing an excellent job of it I must say. But as I said to you on my last visit, times are changing and we need horses for our men to fight mounted. Two of those mares down there, the larger ones, I want bred to Odin here. I’ll leave him here to enjoy himself for two weeks. Have him cover any of the other larger mares that come in heat in that time. When I was in London I arranged to buy a charger stallion, a good strong solid beast with a good temperament. He should be arriving in the next few days. Have him cover all the other mares, except the two year-olds which you can have one or both of the rouncey stallions cover.

“I want bigger and stronger horses. I’ll have some of the woodland over there astarted so you can have more grazing. But I also need the horses not just broken to the saddle when I get them, but also trained for war. The English, of course, have never fought on horseback and I don’t expect you to know how to train them. I’ll arrange for a horse-trainer from Normandy to come and take responsibility for that. You’ll continue to be responsible for the breeding as always, but he’ll be responsible to train them for war. I want twenty warhorses, both chargers and destriers, and twenty rounceys a year. Do you have enough people to do that?”

Roweson looked unhappy about having to share responsibility for the final product of the stud, but at the same time was intrigued by the challenges in the change in the breeding program and the increased output needed. “I have six assistants at the moment. Four men and two lads. I’d probably need another two men and four lads, or maybe a couple of lasses, to carry water and food.”

“Let me know what you need and what extra provisions you require,” said Alan. “Now, if you will have one of your lads take off Odin’s tack and provide me with a rouncey, you can set Odin to work and I’ll go back to the manor.”

A few minutes later Alan and his men rode up to the gate at Ramsey, to be greeted by the staff. Although evening was drawing in, the steward Durand was still out in the fields supervising the ploughing and spreading of manure, and his wife Aerlene invited them in. Aerlene soon had them seated by the fire with a mug of mead in hand and was chatting amiably when Durand hurried in, hot, sweaty and dirty from his day in the fields. After greeting his guests Durand retired briefly to clean himself and shift his clothes before returning to sit with Alan at the head-table.

Because most of the men had been out for the day the cook had arranged the main meal for the evening. After the inevitable pottage, this time of beans in beef broth, the main course was brought out. Durand appeared to favour simpler foods than Alan and the meal consisted of boiled beef with boiled vegetables and a simple gravy, accompanied by copious amounts of mead and ale.

Durand had a travelling storyteller staying at the Hall and after dinner the bard began to recite from memory the Seafarer, a first-person story of exile and solitude in which Christian and Pagan beliefs were contrasted, with the storyteller confiding his preference for a life of hardship on the sea rather than the security of the land. The storyteller was a master, having the audience enthralled with his cadence and changes of tone and volume, at times speaking so low that the audience strained to hear and at other times shouting aloud. The performance took nearly two hours and when the bard had finished, to thunderous applause, Durand presented him with a small purse. By then it was late and all the men were considerably affected by the alcohol they had consumed. Alan declined the offer of Durand’s own bed and insisted on sleeping on the rush-strewn floor together with Durand’s cheorls and servants.

Next morning, feeling somewhat under the weather with a headache and bilious stomach, Alan mounted his horse for the ride back to Thorrington, arriving back at mid-morning. He first called at the village carpenter and instructed him to come to the Hall to measure Anne for crutches, which he did immediately and promised to have them ready and delivered the next morning. Anne was delighted at her pending improvement in mobility and the simple mid-day meal of pottage and mutton stew that Otha had prepared passed without incident.

Osmund arrived with Gimm at mid-afternoon and both men accompanied Alan to visit Toland, the village head-man. As he expected Toland to be out working on ploughing, Alan had sent a message that he would meet him at the tithe-barn and allowed him time to arrive before they walked the short distance down the dirt road between the village houses.

“God Hael!” called Toland as Alan and the others approached. Alan introduced the two newcomers and instructed Toland that he would need two cottages and an armourer’s workshop built, the latter to be next to the blacksmith’s workshop. Sites were chosen, paced out and marked with sticks. Toland attempted to get the work deferred until after ploughing. Alan agreed that he would give the villagers two weeks to complete the work, but that it had to commence next day. A rather disgruntled cheorl walked back angrily towards the other workers in the fields.

As they walked back to the Hall Alan asked Grimm whether he had a list of tools and items he required. Grimm replied that he had some tools and had dictated a list to Osmund for the remainder. Some of the tools could be shared with Aethelhard the blacksmith, as could the blacksmith’s apprentice.

Back at the Hall Anne greeted Osmund with delight and wanted to sit down and chat with him, but Alan brusquely over-ruled that, arranging an immediate meeting with Kendrick in the Solar. While waiting Alan filled Osmund in on Anne’s findings from the books of account. Anne had marked the relevant pages with slips of parchment and Osmund found it easy enough to identify the suspect entries.

When Kendrick arrived after a few minutes he entered to find Alan and Osmund sitting at the table with the piles of parchment in front of them. He entered the room happy enough, but frowned as soon as he saw the paperwork on the desk, realizing that he may be in trouble.

“Kendrick, this is Osmund, who is my new clerk. He’ll be keeping the records for the Hundred Courts,” Kendrick brightened perceptibly. “And he’ll also oversee the manor accounts.” Darkness fell again on Kendrick’s face. “As you know the manor accounts have not been properly kept in the past.” Alan raised a hand to still Kendrick’s reply. “I know that’s not your fault, as you cannot write or figure, but rather the fault of Estan and myself in not giving you the support you needed. Now, Osmund here will accompany you on your rounds and record all the dealings properly, so we can make sure that everybody pays what they should pay and renders the services that they should. In large part his work will be to record what has only been verbal agreements to date. This timing is most opportune as the rents are due on Annunciation Day in two weeks, so Osmund will be able to start helping you immediately. I want you to spend each morning until Annunciation Day, except next Monday when we have the Hundred court, going through the books and explaining what tenants have what obligations and answering any questions he may have. Now, I’m sure you are busy at this time of the year, so we won’t delay you any longer.”

Osmund’s face had been growing redder and redder during the short conversation and when Kendrick had slunk out of the Solar and the door closed he gave into his hard-controlled mirth, still keeping his comments quiet because of the thin walls. “God’s breath! That was masterful!” he wheezed, strangling off a full-bodied laugh. “He didn’t know whether to piss himself or shit! We’ll see what happens in the next day or so.”

“What do you expect?” asked Alan with interest.

“A visit tonight or tomorrow to discuss financial arrangements, but we’ll see,” replied the worldly Osmund.

Next morning Osmund sat with Alan and Anne at the breakfast table, eating bread, cheese and smoked herring while supping a cup of mead. Edyth was still abed, as the hour was early. “I was correct,” he said in Latin, to keep the conversation private from the servants around them. “I was invited to his cottage and met his wife Sunniva.”

“He’s not married,” interjected Anne.

“Well, that’s another person who can be charged with unlawful co-habitation in the Hundred court on Monday then!” continued Osmund with a sly look and a smile at his master, who they all knew was just as guilty as Kendrick in that regard. “We drank a couple of jugs of very nice French wine, no doubt from your cellar, and he made me an offer. I get one third, he gets two thirds.”

“What did you say?” asked Anne with indignation.

“I accepted, of course,” replied Osmund. In response to Anne’s incredulous look he continued, “How else can I find out the true amount that he’s stealing- and even more importantly the true obligations that each freeman has on my lord’s lands? Don’t worry, I’ll include it in the accounts as ‘gratuities received’ and it can be deducted from my pay, although I suspect the gratuities will far exceed what Sir Alan has generously offered me.” Osmund sighed. “It’s a pity I’m honest. I could have made a fortune here in a couple of years, just like Kendrick has.”

As Osmund finished his meal and, with a bow to his lord, took his leave, Alan commented to Anne, “Thank you for the recommendation. It looks as if I’m a long way towards rectifying that problem.” He paused and then continued, “Talking about problems, you probably have one that you don’t recognise yourself. When Aelfric took the lands you now hold, did he rent in laen for one lifetime, or three? His, his wife’s and his heirs? I understand that he was single at the time and it is most probable that he paid rent for his own lifetime. If so, you have a problem. I’d strongly urge you to find and read the land charter when you get home.”

“Why would that be a problem? Surely they’d not turn a widow out of her lands when she still pays her taxes each Quarter Day?” asked Anne in perplexity.

Alan laughed. “You don’t know anything about landlords, Norman or English,” he rejoined. “If it was rented for his lifetime, you have nothing and the land will be escheated at any time. Geoffrey de Mandeville was made overlord of most of Essex, including your lands. Even if it was still in the hands of Harold Godwinson you would still be ejected, leaving only with your dower. That’s what the English law says, not the Norman. Geoffrey de Mandeville has many knights and others for whom he must provide lands. He’ll be after every opportunity to seize lands to give to his retainers. Even if it was rented for three lives, as there is no heir, you can expect to be forced to marry a man of Sir Geoffrey’s choice, a man he has some obligation towards, with no say yourself. The same thing happened in Cnut’s day. The widows of those his army slew were forced to marry his retainers. One can look to the past to see the future. I suggest you find yourself a husband as soon as possible, or start sewing a nun’s habit. To make matters worse for you, not only are you a woman, you’re English and your husband died in the fighting last year. All English are required to pay a Heriot to retain their lands. Even the church has to pay to be confirmed in its very substantial holdings. Most importantly, the land of those who died fighting against King William is forfeit. While your husband died fighting at Stamford Bridge, I’d doubt that those who administer the forfeiture will make much distinction about the lands of those who fell at Fulford Gate, Stamford Bridge or at Hastings. William wants land to give to his friends as reward for past services, such as me.”

Anne looked appalled. “That is incredible!” she said. “It must be illegal”.

Alan shook his head with seriousness. “Not illegal. Apart from perhaps the forfeiture, it’s entirely according to the ancient laws of England- and the same would happen in Normandy. As to the forfeiture, William dates his reign from the day King Edward died and sees any who fought against him as being traitors who are liable to forfeiture of their land. Those who lived are being allowed to buy their land back. Few of the widows and heirs of those who died are being given that choice. Illegal, no. Immoral, yes. Men in positions of power are rarely concerned with morality, particularly if they have a financial interest in the result. Ask Osmund for his opinion and have a look at the law books in the Solar.”

“This is impossible! How am I supposed to summon a suitor out of the air?” demanded Anne.

“You are a very eligible widow. Young, beautiful and with wealthy lands. Your only defect, from most men’s point of view, is your high intellect! They want ornaments, not partners. Matilda, William’s wife, is the daughter of the Count of Flanders, brought him a huge dowry and a strong political ally. By all reports she’s a very intelligent woman, but she has played little formal part in Normandy’s affairs until the last few months, when William has been busy in England. As to suitors, I would like to be the first in line for consideration, but you may have many other paramours in the background.”

Anne gave him a close look, part suspicious and part speculative. “I’ll speak to Osmund and look at my land charter. If it was for three lifetimes, nobody can force me marry! And as for you, with the events of the last few months I’m hardly likely to choose to marry a Norman!”

“I admire your spirit, but believe me you can and will be forced to marry whether you wish or not,” said Alan. “Still, if the time comes, please give me some consideration. Now, to change the topic, your crutches should be arriving any time. Would you like to come and see my fort?” he asked with obvious enthusiasm. Anne agreed with a ready smile.

The crutches had arrived an hour later. They were well constructed, the correct height and padded under the arms. After an exploratory trial, Anne pronounced herself ready to leave. As the fort was on a slight rise of ground several hundred yards away Alan still had Anne carried to the site.

“I haven’t bothered with a motte, as it’s simply not worth the trouble,” explained Alan. “Our main problem here is likely to be either Danish raiders, who would want to be in and out quickly and not bother with a prolonged siege, or an armed uprising of local thegns and peasants. Both of which this will cater for perfectly. We’re not on the route between any large towns, so no armies are going to come this way. If I’m stupid enough to have my own thegns and peasants attacking me I deserve to be killed in my bed! You’ll have noticed that I use almost exclusively local Englishmen for my troops. If there is any insurrection they are already in my Hall and ready to cut my throat!”

During the hard freeze of winter the labourers had been set to cutting wooden stakes for the palisade for the bailey. The ditch around the bailey had now been dug, six feet deep and the spoil piled on the defensive side, with the palisade put in place above, giving a barrier eighteen feet high. The barns, armoury, stables and the two-storey barracks had been erected. All were timber or wattle-and-daub buildings with wooden shingles for roofing, rather than thatching.

The gate and towers still required completion. The Hall, kitchen, latrines and bath-house were still in the early stages of construction, with little more done than to dig out the foundations and a connecting series of small narrow trenches. A well had been dug and lined with stone, with some six feet of water at the bottom. “The bailey is about one acre in size,” explained Alan. “There will be eight small towers, about ten feet higher than the palisade. You can see the position of the foundations. Each will provide a position for a dozen archers and each will have a ballista.”

“A what?” interjected Anne.

“A ballista. Sort of like a giant crossbow firing an arrow as large as a spear to a range of 500 paces or so. I’ll also have the two onagers in the bailey, so I can throw rocks at attackers for about the same distance,” replied Alan. Anne blinked in surprise. She’d never even heard of these engines of war. “The barracks has two storeys, with room for fifty- thirty downstairs and twenty upstairs. That’s completed, so let’s go have a look,” continued Alan.

Anne hobbled over and looked inside the ground floor. The barracks was a long thin room, similar in size to a traditional long-house. It was two-thirds occupied by a series of triple bunk beds, thirty beds in all. The remaining third appeared to have been left for eating and general use, although this was currently unfurnished. “The upstairs is similar but, but narrower because of the pitch of the roof,” said Alan.

“It looks like a tight squeeze for the men. Is there any reason you painted the building yellow?”

Alan shrugged. “The men each have their own bed, although the three-high bunks may be less comfortable than could be possible- but that is better than if they were sleeping with the servants on the floor in the Hall. They each have several wall-pegs to hang clothing and a small chest in which to put their personal items-which is more than most men-at-arms or servants could expect. As to the colour, the walls are made of wattle and daub, so it has to be lime-washed to make it weather-proof. I happened to have a sack of yellow ochre available and thought that it would make a change from the usual lime white. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

They went back out into the bailey. “There’s stabling for forty horses. Two barns, a granary and an armoury- all empty at the moment. See that small hill over there? It has a spring, and I’m getting the water piped over here in lead pipes to fill these two water cisterns, and- I really like this- the overflow will go into the latrines and wash them clean. I got the idea on some plans I once saw about a Roman fort. The latrine has two sections, one for men and one for women, each with a four-holed seat. The water washes underneath and takes the waste away and there will be sponges on sticks just like the Romans used to use, that also get washed clean by the running water in that basin. The spring water will also flow into the troughs in the stables- it does that before it goes to the latrines. Over here will be the kitchen. The heat from the fire will go through this trench to warm the water in the bathing room and the laundry next door. Err… I’m having some trouble getting the design right for that, but I’ve nearly got it! Here is my workshop where I spend my spare time making ‘men’s toys’ which will most likely prove useful.

“Now for the Hall! The main Hall will be thirty paces by ten, stone-built on the lower storey and half-timber on the upper storey, paved with slate downstairs. There are three large rooms at the end for a Solar, a private Retiring Room and an office. Upstairs over those rooms will be three bedchambers. There’s another wing built on at the side with ten smaller bedchambers for functionaries, guests and so on.” Alan sighed before continuing, “I’m having trouble with the heating. I want to use a hypocaust.” Anne looked totally blank. He might as well have said that he wanted to use a dragon. “Another Roman invention,” explained Alan. “You have a furnace outside which produces heat. That hot air is drawn underground under the floor of the Hall, heating the paving stones. It then goes to the wall of the private rooms, which have to be double-brick, with a space between, and then goes up the wall, heating the brick wall, before it goes out the vents at the top on the roof. The warm paving stones and brick wall heat the rooms. Getting bricks around here is a problem, which is why I’m mainly using stone. We’re going to have to fire some bricks of our own, which probably means getting somebody up from London who knows how to do it. The Hall will also have a fire hearth as usual, probably more for appearances than anything else since people are used to sitting next to a fire. Rather than a hole in the roof I intend to make a sort of chimney to take the smoke away. I’ll worry about making that by trial and error when we get that far.”

“But you are talking about something more luxurious than the palace at Westminster or probably in Paris!” exclaimed Anne.

“Probably, but only on a small scale. It’s just a series of engineering problems, none of which are insurmountable or even particularly expensive. Most men don’t get the chance to build their Hall from scratch to their own designs. I want to do that, do it right and make it comfortable. Some of the things will be expensive, like glass in the windows, but I can make do with shutters for a year or so until I can afford that. Do it once and do it right is my motto!”

“Big plans, but I’m sure you will make it work,” said Anne as she twisted to look at the site of the Hall and tried to imagine it completed. The movement brought a twinge of pain reflected on her face and Alan soon had her being carried back to the much more mundane Hall he had inherited from Estan.

All in all, Anne had a lot to ponder that night.

It was the third Monday of the month, the 19th of March. Hundred Court Day. Alan had arranged for the tithe barn to be cleared out. Outside a steady rain was soaking the land, to the quiet satisfaction of those present- all of whom relied on the bounty of the land in one way or another. Osmund had prepared the list of cases and explained them to Alan and the other eleven thegns present and presiding. Several other thegns were there to watch proceedings to see how Alan handled them. Court day was always good free entertainment. Given the wet weather, many of the freemen from Thorrington and surrounding villages also were crammed into the barn.

Alan looked at his notes written in Latin. The thegns had their notes written in English. Osmund was nothing if not thorough. There were four cases of theft by freemen, one by a slave. Three of illegal sexual intercourse. One freeman was charged with having adultery with another freeman’s wife. Two cases of unlawful wounding, five of assault causing bodily harm, eight of common assault, one of forceful detention and two brothers charged with fornication with the same woman. Two charges of unlawful possession of cattle, one of a horse. One case of possession of unknown cattle. One of a man who found a cow to be unsound after it was bought. Two of housebreaking. One of bribery, one of slander and two of highway robbery. And one of witchcraft. It was going to be a long day.

Alan had previously arranged for Osmund to carefully explain the frithbogh and frankpledge system to him. This was a custom under which the inhabitants of a district, or a man’s kin, were responsible for a crime committed by any one of its members- responsibility usually rested on kinship. ‘Every man who wishes to be free must be in a pledge and that pledge must hold and bring him to justice if he commits any offence’ Osmund had quoted. Some of the charges brought before the Hundred court were by members of the frithbogh tithing of ten men, seeking to avoid their share of any penalty for wrongdoing by the defendant. Others were brought by the victims.

In each case the claimant was called and gave oath. In many cases the defendant was not present and a warrant was issued for him to attend at the next Hundred court to answer the charge. Some of those on the list were from previous courts and the defendants were still not present and more warrants were issued. Where the defendant was present, after the claimant had given oath of the offence, the defendant gave oath in reply. Some, mainly the simple assault cases, agreed to their guilt and were fined their three to six shillings, depending on the amount of damage done.

Two of the unlawful wounding cases disputed their liability and witnesses were called and gave oath. Both were convicted and fined four shillings- and warned that they were not oath-worthy and would not be able to be buried in hallowed ground unless they made compensation to the Bishop of London. One, though found guilty, still insisted on his innocence and demanded trial by ordeal. The court set the trial of hot iron, which required the person claiming innocence to carry a glowing red metal bar for nine paces, the outcome depending on whether the hands were found unharmed three days later. This was to be carried out in the presence of Brother Godwine after the proper procedures had been followed and in one week’s time. Alan was impressed with the man’s tenacity. Based on the evidence he would have admitted guilt and paid the fine.

The highway robber was without kin to speak on oath for him, his oath was rejected and as he clearly could pay no fine he was sentenced to hang, to be carried out the next day. Again, he would be buried in unhallowed ground.

At the mid-day break, sitting in the local tavern, Alan asked Alric if the case load was normal.

“About usual,” said Alric, as he washed down a meat pie with a pint of ale. “Except for the witch. I’ll be interested to see how you handle that one!”

Back to court to deal with the fornicators. The two brothers admitted to having intimate relations with the same woman, which constituted incest, but each denied on oath that they knew of the other’s involvement. On oath the woman admitted having sex with both, but insisted this was not at the same time and that she had told neither man of her involvement with the other. The oaths from those in the frithbogh for each man showed them to be men of otherwise good standing and reputation. The court unanimously dismissed the case.

Although half the cases still remained to be heard, Alan called on the witch’s case just before dark. One claimant stood and gave evidence that the woman, Rowena, had cursed her animals, causing her cow’s milk to curdle, her chickens to be eaten by foxes and the failure of the crop in her vegetable garden. She claimed to have six other witnesses ready to give oath. By now Alan had had enough. He had a splitting headache after listening to hours of neighbours pouring out grievances against each other.

When Rowena was called, she was very elderly with sparse white hair, no teeth, thin to the point of emaciation and drooling at the mouth. She clearly had no idea where she was or what she was charged with, muttering quietly to herself and staring into the distance. Alan looked at his fellow thegns, who looked back with amused expressions that clearly said ‘this is your problem’. Alan turned to Osmund and clicked his fingers to be shown the relevant part of the law book.

‘And we have ordained respecting witch-crafts, and lybacs, and morthdaeds: if anyone should be thereby killed, and he could not deny it, that he be liable in his life. But if he will deny it, and at threefold ordeal shall be guilty; that he be 120 days in prison: and after that let kindred take him out, and give to the king 120 shillings, and pay the wer to his kindred, and enter into bot for him, that he evermore desist from the like’. The Laws of King Athelstan.’

Alan looked up from the book. “Firstly, there is no allegation of anybody being killed by this woman’s alleged actions. If you are successful in your case, and I would indicate I think that doubtful, the most that will happen is that she will be driven from your village and told to leave the Hundred. Clearly she cannot defend herself and the court will need to appoint a person to act on her behalf.” Here the other thegns nodded agreement. “If you fail in your case, you and your witnesses will each be fined ten shillings for wasting the court’s time. This matter will take a full day.”

“But what of the Bible saying ‘suffer not a witch to live’?” demanded the woman.

“Whatever the Bible may say, in this court we apply the laws set out by the kings of England. Even if proven, she will not be put to ordeal unless she is convicted and then still insists she is innocent and demands to be put to ordeal; and she is incapable of doing so. Do you want to proceed?” demanded Alan.

“Yes, I want justice!” demanded the woman.

‘Justice’ thought Alan. ‘What has that to do with the law?’ He consulted a calendar that Osmund provided. “Very well, the matter will take a full day. It’ll be heard by three thegns on Tuesday the 26th of June. Osmund, can you please make arrangements to ensure that Rowena is here on that day and that she has somebody suitable to represent her, preferably a thegn. I’ll preside over the court that day. Right! The court is adjourned. All remaining cases to be listed on Monday 16th April, three days after St Martin’s Day. before thegn Alric.”

As he sat with the other thegns in the tavern quaffing a quart of ale, Alan felt that he had earned his ‘third penny’, the one third share of fines for the day shared by the judges.

The remaining five days to the Feast of the Annunciation on 25th March passed in a frenzy of activity. The peasants were toiling in the fields behind the ox-drawn ploughs. The soil in the Tendring Hundred was generally fairly light and fertile, so most ploughs had just four or six oxen, in place of the eight that were common in areas where the soils were heavier. The thegns and wealthier cheorls either supervised their workers or were collecting the last of the rents due to them to allow them to pay their own taxes or rents due on the Quarter Day.

Alan, Baldwin and Hugh spent much of each day in armour on horseback, honing their own skills and those of the Anglo-Saxon men-at-arms that they were training to fight on horseback. Alan had accepted Anne’s advice not to take on military service twice the number of men he was obliged to under the terms of his landholding, accepting that this could be seen as vanity and may result in an increase in his military obligation being imposed.

He’d decided to take five English men-at-arms and himself, leaving Hugh, Baldwin, Roger and Warren in charge of the military arrangements for the manor, but with firm instructions to consult with thegn Leofstan if any problems arose. The four ‘Frenchmen’, a term that they all found distasteful as three were Normans and one a Breton and all with a profound contempt for the French, fifteen mounted men-at-arms and twenty peasant archers in the village, together with the fyrd or local militia that they had begun to train one morning a week, should be enough to see off any unexpected incursions.

By co-incidence Annunciation Day that year fell on a Sunday, and the congregation was such that Brother Godwine had to move the church service outside to be held on the village green.

The weather was kind, which was fortunate as Annunciation Day, together with Easter, Midsummer Day and Midwinter Day, were days that the lord was expected to provide what was if not a feast for the villagers, certainly adequate food and drink for their needs on the day.

The long and tedious service that Brother Godwine conducted, with a sermon lasting over half an hour, was enlivened by the local children running about shouting and squealing, the bustle of preparations going on around them and the smoke and smell of animals being cooked on spits- the cattle had started to be cooked the preceding night- and workmen delivering barrels of ale and cider.

Otha and a small battalion of women workers were piling loaves of rye bread and huge yellow rounds of cheese onto trestle tables. The plump middle-aged cook knew from experience what the peasants wanted- simple food and lots of it. For many of the poorer sokeman and cottars, and certainly the slaves, the ample meat supplied at the lord’s feasts was the only meat they had during the year, other than a few scraps added to the vegetable pottage that formed their main diet, or perhaps the occasional rabbit or hare from the woods. They may raise pigs, using scraps, waste and the acorns in the forest to feed them, but they could not afford to eat them themselves as they relied on the five or six pigs they raised a year to pay their rent and tithes.

Alan arranged for the church tithe payable from his demesne, from his own produce and not that from the rental of his tenants who had already paid their tithe, to be transferred to the tithe-barn. This was done with great reluctance on his part, as he felt that Brother Godwine did little to justify even the glebe or the ‘Parson’s Acres’ strips in the fields that were part of his stipend, which were worked by the men of the village for him, let alone one tenth of the produce of the parish. Alan saw him as fat, lazy and stupid and was determined to be rid of him as soon as possible. The parish benefice was within his gift, but he had other things to attend to at the moment

CHAPTER EIGHT

MILITARY SERVICE APRIL 1067

Alan and five mounted men-at-arms, together with three pack horses, rode out of Thorrington a little after three in the afternoon of Friday the 30th of March for Colchester. They were to join the band of Robert fitzWymarc due to march the next day to Alan of Brittany’s castle in Cambridge and then join William fitzOsbern to perform Alan’s annual knight’s service of forty days. With daylight now being nearly thirteen hours a day, the mounted band expected to be able to cover the distance of sixty odd miles the next day. Rather than stay overnight at the castle, when they arrived at Colchester Alan went to his usual haunt of ‘The Three Hounds’, sending a message to fitzWymarc that he and his men would arrive at the castle before first light.

Alan instructed the inn-keeper that he and his men would require a substantial breakfast and individually wrapped lunches of fresh bread, cold meat and cheese before leaving early in the morning. Each man would carry his own one-gallon skin of water.

Next morning, still in the pre-dawn dark, the grumbling but well-fed men mounted their horses and led the pack-horses the short distance to the castle. Used to campaigning, Alan had loaded the pack-horses with the rolled up hauberks of each man, clearly marked as to owners, a ten-man tent, cooking pot and implements and a supply of dried beef jerky and dried beans. Alan was riding a large rouncey, with Odin being on stud duty at Ramsey and Alan not expecting to need the services of a war-trained destrier.

First light was breaking when they arrived at the castle after a ride of a few minutes through the still quiet streets of the town and were admitted into the bailey. A number of horses were milling around in the bailey, either being loaded or having their tack completed, saddle straps pulled tight, reins and bits fitted. The men-at-arms and their lord had not yet appeared, so Alan and his men dismounted and walked about stretching their legs, well aware that the coming day in the saddle would test their thigh muscles. The priory bells were ringing the dawn service of Prime when fitzWymarc and his men emerged from the Hall.

FitzWymarc took one look at Alan’s men and then commented, “What’s the matter, couldn’t you afford good Norman men-at-arms? I didn’t expect to be riding with Englishmen at my side today.”

Alan’s men remained unperturbed as the comment had been made in Norman French and they hadn’t understood it. They could tell from the expression on Alan’s face that he wasn’t happy. “I’d have thought that you had been in England long enough to appreciate the fighting qualities of the English. What is it, ten years? Although of course you weren’t there at Hastings- on either side!” FitzWymarc scowled as the verbal thrust went home.

FitzWymarc and his nine men, ranging from a youth who would not yet have started to shave to several grizzled veterans, mounted up. They also were not wearing their armour, which had been placed on several pack-horses. FitzWymarc led his men out of the castle gate and on the road to Cambridge, with Alan and his men following at their tail. It was an uncomfortable ride, not just because of the rigors of riding sixty miles on horseback. The Normans rode with little conversation. FitzWymarc, who was the only one of the Norman party who could have conversed with the English, chose to ride on ahead and ignore them. For their part the English spoke little amongst themselves, but did make the occasional joke; the laughter which resulted appeared to disgruntle the Normans even more as they assumed that the jokes were against them.

FitzWymarc called a halt at noon at the village of Haverhill, thirty miles from Colchester. FitzWymarc and his men walked into the village tavern and disappeared from view. Alan’s men watered their own horses at the water-trough outside the tavern, gave each a nose-bag of chaff and moved them to the shade- and ignored the Norman’s horses which were left standing in the sun.

Alan and the Englishmen, Ainulf, Edric, Alfward, Ledmer and Acwel sat on the bench outside the tavern with a couple of locals. Alan called the pot-boy to deliver quart pitchers of ale while they ate the cold meal that had been provided by ‘The Three Hounds’. Ledmer and Acwel exchanged gossip with the two local cheorls with whom they were sharing the bench. Alan was using his knife to smear some very tasty brie cheese on the last of his fresh bread when fitzWymarc and his men reappeared at about one o’clock. Tossing a couple of coins to the pot-boy, Alan and his men mounted. They proceeded on to Cambridge, arriving a little after four in the afternoon.

As was intended, Alan of Brittany’s castle in Cambridge dominated the town. Both the castle and the town appeared packed with troops and some tents had been set up outside the town by the river. They dismounted in the castle bailey and Alan followed fitzWymarc into the Hall. Recovering his good manners slightly, fitzWymarc introduced Alan to Walter fitzWarren, William fitzOsbern’s seneschal. A clerk wearing a monk’s habit marked them off on a list as having attended.

Alan asked Walter fitzWarren what the intended program was for the next few days. “Tomorrow is Palm Sunday, so we’ll leave on Monday for Northampton,” replied fitzWarren. “That’s William Peverel’s land and a day’s ride away. We spend Tuesday and Wednesday there so fitzOsbern can ‘show the flag’ and take submissions, then move on Thursday to Coventry. That’s another day’s ride. We spend Easter there before heading to Stafford, Nottingham and Lincoln. Four or five days at each place and then to Leicester, Litchfield and on to Shrewsbury.

“At Shrewsbury fitzOsbern will start his spring campaign against the Welsh Prince Bleddyn of Gwynedd and Eadric ‘the Wild’, who’ve been harassing Herefordshire during the winter. I gather the Welsh have been doing the same for years against the Saxons. They’ll find that we’re made of a different metal! Now what forces do you have, fitzWymarc? A squadron of ten mounted men-at-arms, excellent. de Gauville? Six including yourself? Englishmen you say? Well, we all know that Englishmen can’t fight on horseback. These can? Well, we’ll see. I’ll allocate you to Ivo Taillebois who’s in charge of our scouts. That’s him over there. Now if you men will excuse me, there are some other people I must see.”

After giving fitzWymarc a clap on the shoulder by way of farewell, Alan made his way over to Ivo Taillebois who was sitting at a table with several others. “de Gauville you say? Never heard of you! Five Englishmen who you say can fight on horseback? I’ll classify you as light cavalry and you can scout on our right flank. FitzOsbern has a party of 500 at the moment, which should be enough to impress the natives without causing undue damage as we move around.

“Now I want this quite clear, de Gauville, fitzOsbern has said that we are the party of a king’s officer who is moving through the land representing the king. We are not a conquering army burning a swathe twenty miles wide as we did last year. No robbery. No pillaging. No rape. No violence unless you have to. Watch for movement on our flank and report back if you see anything. I want to maintain a three-mile scouting distance, and I want to know if a hare so much as farts within that area. When we advance your men will be covering an area one and a half miles wide. When we camp, you’ll cover three miles of the circle. I have eight scouting squads and six will be out in the field at any one time. When we march, the other two squads will form an advance-scouting and rear-scouting party. I’ll keep you out in the field all day every day, but since we’ve enough men I’ll release your men at Leicester on the way to Wales and you can go home before the serious work begins.”

“Don’t you think it’s passing strange that the king has returned to Normandy last month?” asked Alan.

Taillebois gave a shrug. “Things are pretty quiet here in England at the moment and William has left two trusted men in charge, his cousin William fizOsbern and his half-brother Odo of Bayeux. He’s not stupid- he’s taken with him all the Englishmen who could possibly cause any problems. Edgar the Aetheling, the earls Edwin, Morcar and Waltheof, Archbishop Stigand and Aethelnoth the abbot of Glastonbury, and hostages from every important town and city. Odo has been left in charge of England south of the Thames and fitzOsbern from north of the Thames to the border with Mercia. We’ve been told to stay out of Mercia and Northumbria, the Danelands. William has won a good victory and is entitled to ponce about in Normandy showing Philip of France and Fulk of Anjou that he’s better than them!”

Alan was sure that the allocation of his men to the screening force and their dismissal before the expedition to Wales was because the steadiness and reliability of his men in battle wasn’t trusted, but as he would return home early he made no complaint. “Who do I see about quarters and supplies?” he asked.

Ivo laughed. “Quarters are wherever you can find them. You can sleep in the Hall with us, your men probably with their horses. The commissary is the red tent down near the river. Now, I expect to only see you if there are any problems!”

Down at the commissary tent Alan, accompanied by Edric, was soon listening to a tale of woe by the commissary sergeant, a fat and oily individual made to look even less trustworthy by having a squint. There was no food available. The town delivered food for the men each morning, but it was always short of quota. All he could offer was a sack of beans and a leg of ham that was suspiciously green, but he did have a firkin of beer. Alan took the beans and beer and left the ham.

As they walked back up the hill Alan commented, “I’ll bet that half the food and drink Cambridge provides each morning is back in the market by mid-day.” Edric grunted his agreement, trying to steer a straight course as he rolled the nine-gallon barrel along. Alan had the twenty-pound sack of beans over his shoulder.

Meeting up with the rest of the party they explained the situation. Alfward and Ledmer told the others to stay where they were and disappeared into the milling crowd of the castle. What Alan had overlooked was that, whatever the Normans thought, it was actually the English who ran the castle. Ledmer returned after a few minutes with a youngish man called Bertwold who ran the stables, theoretically under the supervision of a Norman. He was more than happy, on being politely asked, to make stable space, hay and oats available for eight horses and for the squad to join him and his fellow geburs in sleeping in the hayloft.

Shortly after they arrived in the hayloft Alfward appeared, followed by a very comely serving-wench carrying a large tray of food that, before it was intercepted on their behalf by the kitchen staff, had been intended for consumption in the Hall. After making their delivery, as Alfred and the girl turned to leave- Alfred with his hand firmly on the unprotesting girl’s bottom- he gave Alan a wink and said that he would be back in the morning with breakfast and they shouldn’t wait up for him.

As darkness fell Bertwold and his fellow-stable hands returned and the firkin of beer was manoeuvred up into the loft. Bertwold and his half dozen men brought their own food rations up into the loft and a convivial evening was had, aided by the consumption of several quarts of beer each- Alan wanted the firkin to also last for the next day- and the girlfriends of several of the stable-boys sneaking upstairs in the dark.

Finding a party in progress in the darkness the girls left to return with several more female friends. Alan never knew the name, or saw the face, of the young woman he coupled with that night. No lantern was permitted in the hayloft and anyway the English were adverse to advertise they were having an enjoyable evening. They kept the noise down to conversation and an occasional quiet song, just enjoying the simple conviviality of togetherness. When he woke the girl had uncurled herself from his arms and disappeared in the pre-dawn dark to go about her domestic duties.

Feeling somewhat more content, Alan and his men attended the first Mass at Terce. There were no palm crosses to be handed out, but each received the Host and was anointed with a cross of chrism on their forehead before they rode off to the northwest. Today they were wearing armour but not carrying lances. On reaching the village of Girton, after a brief visit to the thegn and the suggestion he visit Cambridge that day to make his submission to fitzOsbern, they proceeded west to Impington and Fen Ditton, also visiting the manor houses at each village, and covered a distance of about six miles by lunchtime. Provided with an ample mid-day meal and hospitality by the steward at Fen Ditton, they then retraced their steps back to Girton in the afternoon before returning to Cambridge. Clearly there was no large and dangerous force currently gathered to attack on the right flank of the army.

They arrived back just before dark and Alfward disappeared off to the kitchens as Bertwold and his men took charge of the horses while Alan and the others dismounted stiffly and stretched their legs before proceeding to remove their armour and then to quickly wash the day’s sweat away at a horse-trough.

Word seemed to have spread since last night, and Alfward reappeared with his wench, named Eanfled, and three other female kitchen scullery staff all bearing trays of food, two buttery staff, one male and one female, with mead and ale and another half a dozen hangers-on. That night there were probably thirty people in the hayloft, eating, drinking, talking or singing quietly and enjoying companionship. This time in the dark Alan had two young sweet-smelling women cuddling up to him, one on either side. In the dark Alan was a little confused about which woman to approach, but with their caresses and nimble hands they soon sorted that out themselves, and each took their turn several times.

A few days later they were at Coventry when Alan’s men were caught by a particularly severe and cold storm while at the east end of their patrol beat, near the village of Walsgrave-on-Stowe. Certain that the flank was secure and that no enemy army was bearing down on them, they took refuge in the Hall of the young local thegn named Manwine. Over a convivial mid-day meal Manwine mentioned that the village was having problems with a troublesome pack of wolves located nearby in the forest, with sheep and swine disappearing on a regular basis. The hunters were reasonably sure that they had located the lair but their traps and stake-outs had provided no success.

Alan promised that they would look into it when, God willing, they returned the following day, and asked for two freshly-killed deer to be available when he returned. The storm lessened somewhat during the afternoon and as they rode back to Coventry along the path through the forest Alan kept disappearing into the forest, until he returned at last with a large clump of roots that he handled with hands wrapped in cloth.

Arriving back at Coventry Alan visited the local apothecary and found his efforts had been unneeded. Instead of preparing his own distillation of monkshood, he bought, in return for two shillings and the exchange of the roots he had collected, a quarter-pound of aconite powder. The apothecary asked no question as to why his customer wanted enough poison to kill everybody in the castle.

Back next morning at Walsgrave, still in the rain, Alan cut the deer into fist-sized pieces, cutting pockets in each into which, while wearing old leather gloves, he carefully poured the powder. The baits were scattered near the suspected location of the lair. He then burned the gloves.

Returning the following day they found one dead badger, three foxes and nine adult wolves. An investigation of the lair found five cubs, which were quickly dispatched by the hunter. During the celebratory mid-day meal Alan asked, as they would be moving on the next day, that the wolves be skinned and, with fur intact, tanned and sent to him at Colchester by way of payment.

FitzOsberns’s travelling troupe moved on from place to place, impressing the locals and taking submissions on behalf of the king. Alan and his men spend most of Easter Day shivering in the rain as they rode their prescribed beat, fortunate to find a village where Easter Mass was being said and where, despite their soaked appearance, armour and weapons, they were made welcome. Alan was glad that Taillebois had said that their service would be shortened to twenty days as, despite his youth, he doubted his stamina to ride hard all day and all night, despite his recent experience with Edyth. And despite the best care he could give it, his armour was becoming rusty in the constant rain.

On the evening of the 20th April at Leicester fitzOsbern’s clerk signed their release and they began the two day ride home to Thorrington, while the rest of fitzOsbern’s men turned west to act as the basis for the army for the spring campaign against the Welsh.

Arriving back at Colchester Alan found the tanned wolf-skins waiting and after collecting them, and after a courtesy visit to see Lady Anne at Wivenhoe as they passed, which included an invitation for the mid-day meal, they arrived back at Thorrington.

The ploughing of the demesne and the planting of Alan’s crops of wheat, barley, oats and rye and the ploughing and sowing of the fallow demesne land with beans, peas and alfalfa had been completed the week before as the traditional time for sowing seed had arrived. The village fields had been ploughed the previous month and despite the day being Sunday the villagers were out in the fields scattering seeds and harrowing.

Baldwin reported little activity for the last three weeks other than ongoing training with the troops, both full-time and fyrd, at Thorrington, Ramsey and Great Oakley. Another ten additional mounted men-at-arms, mainly the sons of local cheorls, had joined the program full-time. Also eight sons of thegns had joined, all bringing their own horses and most their own armour and weapons. Those who did not have their own armour had been issued with byrnies- a sleeveless coat of mail which, compared to a hauberk, provided less protection by being shorter and leaving the arms and neck exposed. These, together with helmets and swords, had been procured by Alan at Hastings. Other helmets and swords had been issued to the more steady and promising fyrd members, ten each at Thorrington and Ramsay, these being the men who would soon by the sergeants of the force.

Not all the cavalry recruits were from Alan’s manors. It was of interest that Edward and Edwold of Alresford, Godwin of Weeley and Leofstan of Great Holland and Little Holland had sent their sons, along with Alan’s laenmen Toli and Swein. All of these were training with Hugh at Ramsey.

Also of interest was Kendrick’s reaction to Alan’s unexpectedly early return. Kendrick was out in the field tending to the sowing of his own strips of land. He came hurrying back, wiping the dirt from his hands and stamping the mud from his boots, didn’t seem to know what to do after he had greeted his master and stood around seemingly aimlessly, but watching closely, until Alan sent him back to the fields.

“What was that all about?” asked Alan.

“I would guess that he thought he had another two weeks to finish hiding the evidence of his theft,” replied Osmund dryly in Latin. “I’ve finished doing my figures for the last Quarter Day, Lady Day. He seems to have stolen two wagon loads of un-milled grain; ground flour- wheat and rye; four barrels of salt; firewood from the estovers- not a few sticks but whole wagonloads; about a dozen swine from the pannage; a dozen bales of wool and the list goes on and on. I estimate about 120 shillings.

“He cheated me as well, as he only paid me 23 shillings for my bribe, not the promised one third. Most of the goods have already been sent to Colchester and sold, but I think that the herd of swine are being hidden in a forest near Elmstead. I’ve confirmed the quantities of items delivered with the freemen concerned, and the quantities delivered into your store. I had your housekeeper Lynne count them with me as they were delivered. A good, honest woman that one, and very kindly with the youngsters. I’d suggest this evening would be a good time to visit Kendrick and search his house. I’ll arrange for Toland and his assistant Erian to be there, as well as Lynne and Baldwin.”

They met at the Hall kitchen at six in the evening, an hour or so before sunset and while most of the villagers were still busy in the fields. Erian had escorted Kendrick from the fields and together the seven proceeded to Kendrick’s cottage in the village. Barging in through the door the crowd they overwhelmed the small place, and Alan apologised to Kendrick’s woman Sunniva for disturbing her and the two children. She had been giving suck to a baby and it wailed in protest as she covered herself. Lynne suggested that Sunniva and the children might like to wait outside.

The cottage was small, just two rooms, and it took only minutes to find the hiding-place under the floorboards in the bedchamber. Sunniva was recalled before the cache was opened and denied all knowledge of it.

When the cut section of the floorboards was lifted a large hole was revealed, which contained several canvas bags. On being emptied out and counted on the kitchen table there was 137 shillings and ten pence. Another smaller bag contained items of gold jewellery. Alan believed Sunniva, who looked at the fortune in money stacked on the table in disbelief. From her own slatternly appearance and the clothing she had in a small chest in the cottage, clearly Kendrick had never spent any of his ill-gotten gains on her. She sat at a chair, leaned forward onto the table, knocking over a small pile of coins as she did so, and sobbed pathetically.

Kendrick looked more ferret-like than usual, his eyes darting around. “Judas!” he hissed at Osmund. “Do you know that this man has been receiving money from me?” he demanded of Alan. Alan and the others let him carry on his tirade until Kendrick finally realised that all he was doing was providing further evidence of his own guilt.

“Today is Sunday 22nd April. It’s fortunate for you that the Hundred court is due to sit tomorrow, St George’s Day, as I’d just as soon take you out and hang you now,” said Alan coldly. “You’ll be chained up in the tithe-barn overnight and tried tomorrow.”

Leofstan, the thegn of Great Holland and Little Holland presided over the Hundred court the next day, being the next largest landholder after Alan. This had previously been arranged as Alan was not due back from military service for two weeks and Leofstan was surprised to see him there, and even more surprised to hear the change to the court-list. “I never did like that slimy snake!” commented Leofstan in a true display of judicial impartiality.

Osmund quickly outlined the case against Kendrick and what the witness testimony would be as to goods delivered compared to those put in store. Osmund stressed that the current charge related only to the last Quarter Day, but that the mill and other records indicated that the defalcation had been occurring for years. The finding of the 137 shillings and gold in Kendrick’s cottage was in itself sufficient proof, as no honest servant could ever accumulate such wealth.

At that point Kendrick himself put an end to proceedings. “I claim amercement,” he said in his thin voice. “My wergild is 200 shillings, and if I pay that I am free to go from any charge that may be brought against me. You have received from me 137 shillings, and that leaves 63 shillings still payable.”

“No,” said Leofstan. “The money and gold found in your cottage I deem to be the property of Alan, either from this Quarter Day or previous amounts you misappropriated from him or his predecessor. You can’t pay wergild using your victim’s money. You may pay wergild, but it must be full amount and from your own money.” Again, all present knew that an honest cheorl would not have 200 shillings and that even his frithbogh, the tithing of ten men to their mutual pledge to obey the law to which he belonged, would find it difficult to produce that amount.

“The money will be here in the next week,” said Kendrick with a scowl.

“Very well, in that case if the wergild is paid to Alan before the next Hundred Court Day you’ll be free to go, but must leave the Hundred and never return. If it’s not paid by the next Hundred court date of… 21st May, your case will be called back on and I expect you’ll be swinging in the wind by mid-day. Your woman and children may go or stay as they choose. Next case!”

Next day the swineherd dispatched to Elmstead returned with a dozen grown and fat pigs belonging to Alan. At mid-afternoon a villager called Landry arrived at the Hall with several large canvas bags and stated that he had payment for Kendrick’s wergild. Kendrick was released and brought to the Hall and sat and watched as the money was counted. When counted out in piles of silver pennies, there were exactly 200 shillings. Alan gave Kendrick a long flat look of dislike. Clearly there had been other caches of money kept outside the cottage. Kendrick returned his look with a smirk. Alan made a hand-motion of annoyance and said, “Very well, you’re free to go, but if I ever see you again you will be hanging from the nearest tree within moments. Have your nydh?mestre and children out of the cottage within a week. They can meet you outside the Hundred.”

“Why would I want that cifes whore and her brats with me? I can do better than that, and she can come and share your bed with your cifes Edyth.” He stood and continued, “Good day, my lord. I’ll see you in hell one day!” and then strode from the Hall.

Osmund had taken the liberty of recruiting a new steward, ready to take over from Kendrick when Alan returned. His name was Faran and he was from Fordham in Lexden Hundred. He’d been steward there for five years until the new Norman lord took over several months ago and decided that he wanted a Norman steward, putting Faran out of a place. After a discussion with him Alan was satisfied that the man knew more both about running a household and a manor than he did, and seemed to be honest. Faran was middle-aged but single. When he found Sunniva and her two children still in occupation of the steward’s cottage he made no complaint and settled in easily with them.

Later that week Alan watched the fyrd at practice and winced at each mistake that would have killed them on a battle-field. However, he was heartened by the progress of the men who had been in the program since January, who were reaching the point of being reasonably competent. He just hoped that the others would rapidly reach that standard.

By contrast, the performance of the archers, although now only training for three hours two days a week, was excellent. Most of the men had prior experience with the bow and they had combined that capability with the discipline and tactical training as a unit they had received over the last four months.

The weekly training of those of the fyrd armed with spear and sword had provided some improvement, both in individual skills and working as a team, but watching them blunder around the practice field with sword and spear Alan hoped they would never have to meet an enemy. Something would have to be done to teach them the more advanced skills of the art of war.

That evening Alan met with the men of the cavalry, now twenty strong including the recent recruits, in their barracks in the partly built fort at Thorrington. Most sat on the beds next to the living area on the bottom level of the barracks. Ainulf, Edric, Alfward, Ledmer and Acwel, his companions from the recent expedition lounged in the background.

Alan looked about him. “You men are doing well, all things considered.” With a sigh he continued, “You have had to learn in a few months what Norman knights learn in eight years. You men we took on in January are now reasonably competent, but more training is always good. You can never train too much. The others need to do some catching up quickly. What you don’t have is a name, an identity.”

Alan picked up a bundle from the bed next to him and threw it to Edric, who was the closest of the men he knew well. Edric unwrapped it and held up an adult wolf pelt, made into a cloak, with the skin died dark green and the fur on the inside. “You are ‘The Wolves’- mean, vicious and sneaky creatures who take what they want and fight when they choose. We have eight qualified men at the moment, and the others will get their skins when they qualify.” Alan had placed a standing order with the furrier at Colchester. He raised his mug of ale and shouted, “To the Wolves!”

“The Wolves!” came back the reply in a roar.

CHAPTER NINE

WIVENHOE LATE MAY 1067

Alan was roused by the sound of shouting outside the Hall, the call of the guard outside the Hall and the guard’s knocking on the door to gain his attention. It was pitch dark in the middle of the night as Alan disentangled himself from the arms of the still-sleeping Edyth and slipped naked out of bed.

Quickly slipping a tunic on over his head he cursed the coldness of the bare stone floor on his feet as he hurried out into the Hall, where extra torches were being lit and placed in the sconces in the walls and posts. Baldwin, still brushing sleep from his eyes, was sitting next to the remains of the fire, head close to that of a roughly-dressed cheorl.

Seeing Alan’s approach Baldwin rose and said, “This is Aeglaeca. He’s ridden as messenger from Edward of St Osyth. A little after dark a shepherd at Point Clear saw ships in the estuary, rowing north. The wretch couldn’t count them but said that there were more than he had fingers- he probably had his shoes on. It sounds like a Danish or Norwegian raiding party,” he said. “Edward has gathered his men, is fording Brightlingsea Creek and warning Edsel, the King’s Reeve at Brightlingsea, to collect more men and march up the coast, keeping an eye on the ships.”

Alan nodded his understanding. Trading ships didn’t row anywhere. “Rouse all of our men and get them into their chain-mail, and get all the archers here. Ring the church bell, that’ll bring people running! Requisition every horse in the village. A messenger is to ride to Robert fitzWymarc at Colchester at once. That’s probably where they’re heading. Se3d riders to Great Bentley, Tendring, Little Bentley, Cliff Mistley and Bradfield. One rider can do that as they are all in the same direction. Another for Alresford, Frating, Bromley and Elmstead. One for Wyley, Thorp, Kirkly and Clacton. One to Oakley, Ramsey and Dovercourt. I want 100 men at Wivenhoe by dawn, and every man in the Hundred who can carry a spear, sword or even a pitchfork there by mid-afternoon. Move!

“Otha! Hot food for all the men now and trail rations for breakfast. You have half an hour!”

Within minutes the church bell was ringing and men were streaming into the Hall. Some stood shrugging their way into chain-mail vests, others in leather or padded armour. They helped each other with the fastenings and with buckling on arm and leg guards made of boiled leather.

Alan hurried into the Solar, where Edyth helped him into his padded gambeson jacket and then tied the lacings at the back of the chain mail hauberk he slipped on over the top. Alan slipped his poniard knife into his belt and draped the baldric carrying his sword in its leather scabbard over his shoulder. Edyth bound the leather thongs over his woollen trews while he pulled on his riding boots. His green-painted shield, a single handed battle-axe and a green cloak completed his martial array as he strode out into the forecourt.

The forecourt was as active as a nest of ants kicked over. Grooms were leading horses out of stables, some with saddles and tack in place, others still to be attended to. Men dashed back and forth, many still stumbling from either the effects of sleep or the ale that they had drunk the previous evening.

Just 45 minutes after the alarm 68 men rode north. Others were to follow on foot as soon as possible.

It was early on the Wednesday 30th May. The moon provided sufficient light for them to find their way on the dirt track that ran through forest and meadow, the pathway taking them about five miles. As first light began to illuminate the sky at about 3.30am they were 115 strong, including the men collected at Frating and Alresford.

A little over a mile south of Wivenhoe they saw that two of the longships were in the process of beaching themselves on a mudflat while another fourteen continued to row north, oars dipping regularly as they headed into the narrowing estuary towards Colchester on the Colne River. Alan sent a rider hurrying on ahead to raise the alarm at Wivenhoe and to bring all available men able to carry arms.

Alan had his men and horses briefly rest, hidden behind a small rise in the ground, as the raiders began to disembark and wade through the mud towards the shore. Alan dismounted and stood with the rising sun at his back as he surveyed the scene.

There was a clearing some 200 paces wide with stands of trees and thick bushes to each side, on the north and south. The ground rose slowly until it reached the summit of the small mound on which he stood. The village was about a mile to the north, most of that distance covered by forest. It appeared that the raiders wanted to take the village by surprise with a massed charge.

Alan ordered 10 of his light cavalry and 20 archers into the forest on each side of the clearing, together with 15 spearmen and swordsmen on each side in support. Hugh took the right flank and Baldwin the left. This gave Alan 25 men, mainly thegns and their armoured men-at-arms that he had picked up along the way, to hold the front until the men from Wivenhoe arrived. Alan had them place themselves on the reverse side of the slope, lying down to hide their presence. There was muttering and dissent at this, the warriors wanting to stand and challenge their opponents in the traditional way, but Alan insisted on silence, stealth and ambush.

As the raiders struggled out of the mud by the water and onto firm earth the first of the men from Wivenhoe began to arrive in twos and threes and were put amongst the line which was to confront the enemy. Alan had four crossbowmen, who he stationed along the 50-pace wide frontline, when he noticed a thin man of medium height and dark complexion carrying what seemed an unusually long bow and arrows a full yard long. Alan walked towards him and greeted, “God Hael! That looks like a fierce grim weapon! What’s your name, and what can you do with that weapon?”

“As to my name, I’m Owain from Cardiff. As for my friend here, well your crossbowmen can shoot a bolt 200 paces, and if they are good can shoot two bolts a minute. At 200 paces, with no wind like this morning, I can ask you which eye you want me to put this arrow through, and shoot every five seconds.”

Alan clapped the Welshman on the shoulder. “You sound like the answer to my dreams! When we start, I want you to kill every Dane who looks like a leader or who is issuing instructions. Then kill the rest. Kill every mother’s son of them! How many arrows do you have?”

Owain smiled ruefully as he looked at the 100 or so Danes now forming up and starting to march up the clearing. “Not enough! Never mind, I’ll do my share!”

Just then Alan noticed Anne riding up accompanied by ten men. He hurried over, “What in God’s name do you think you are doing here? This is men’s work. You two, take your lady back to the village. You others, join the line.”

“Nay, Sir Knight!’ said Anne with spirit “This is my land and my people. I’ll stay.”

“Goddamn stupid woman!” muttered Alan under his breath, but obviously not quietly enough as Anne flushed with anger. Several of her accompanying warriors scowled; several others nodded agreement with Alan. “Right! Get over there in the trees,” he pointed behind and to one side. “Four men to protect you. That’s four men less I have in the line to fight the Danes. Move! Go now!”

Turning back to the developing battle, Alan saw the Danes were moving in four groups each about 25 strong; they were bunched together and were half way along the clearing, walking as if they hadn’t a care in the world, talking and laughing as they went. Alan moved to kneel on one knee next to Owain. “I want that one with the red cloak at the head of the lead group first, then pick your targets well.”

He raised a trumpet to his lips and blew once. A hail of arrows rose from the forest on each side of the clearing, striking down the unsuspecting raiders. Owain’s first arrow took the leader in the throat and he dropped like a marionette with the strings cut.

Volley after volley of arrows hammered into the ranks of the Danes, who in response turned outwards, resulting in a large inverted V-shaped formation. Owain carefully shot down any man who was trying to organise resistance and the Danes stood shocked and confused, crouching behind their shields. Because there were archers on both flanks the Danes’ shields were little protection as each group facing the trees was vulnerable to attack from behind and many fell with an arrow in the back.

To close the range the archers had stepped out clear of the trees and stood 75 paces away carefully and almost arrogantly selecting their targets. With a hoarse shout about 20 Danish swordsmen broke from the right flank to attack the archers who were galling them from that flank. After shooting two more salvos into the advancing Danes, the archers turned and jogged back into the trees, where their supporting troops were waiting out of sight. The 11 men still remaining from the Danish charge disappeared into the tree-line and were not seen again. Two or three minutes later the archers reappeared and the hail of arrows resumed.

Alan shouted to the men around him and they stood, seeming to rise like wraiths from the ground 70 paces ahead of the Danes, hammered sword and axe on their shields and shouted the ancient battle cry of the English, “Out! Out! Out!” The remaining Danes, now about 60 in number, could not resist the challenge and immediately charged the English line as an uncoordinated mob.

Alan sounded his trumpet again and from the trees on each flank appeared a troop of mounted men-at-arms. They levelled their lances and as one charged the disorganized rabble, hitting them like two fists and punching in both flanks before wheeling to attack the unprotected rear of the Dane’s formation.

The front rank of the Danes had barely reached the English shield-wall when the main body, now only 20 or so strong, routed and ran for the boats. Half a dozen brave or foolish individuals continued to fight and perished in moments on the swords and spears of the English line. When the fighting was over the English warriors broke ranks and pursued the few remaining Danes down the clearing towards the mudflats.

Alan quickly called over Baldwin and instructed him to have the horsemen gallop down to the mud-flat, dismount and capture the boats, each of which held only a handful of guards and were grounded solidly in the mud on the outgoing tide. Moments later the riders were on their way, galloping down the corpse-strewn clearing towards the boats.

“Well, that seemed easy enough,” said a small voice from beside him. Alan turned and saw Anne standing beside him, the top of her head not quite coming up to his shoulder and her long red hair being blown by the breeze that was beginning to spring up. An aged thegn stood next to Anne looking embarrassed.

Alan removed his helmet, holding it by the nasal guard, and pushed back the coif of mail that covered his head so that it fell back around his shoulders, before using the back of his hand to wipe the sweat from his brow. “You’re Wulfgar, aren’t you?” demanded Alan of the thegn, who nodded in reply. “I gave you instructions before, about the protection of your lady. If you were my man, you would now be looking for new employment. When I give you instructions you will follow them, no matter what your lady may say.” Turning to Anne he added, “And you will do what I tell you, at least on the battlefield. Now, if you’ll excuse me I’ll go and stop our men massacring the last of the Danes.”

As he walked away he shouted, “Baldwin! Have our men strip the enemy dead and pile up the arms and armour back there. Any valuables are to be pooled and we’ll share them out tomorrow with the men of Wivenhoe who fought here. Get some men to scour the trees where the fighting took place, tend our wounded and get any dead ready to be sent home for burial.” Turning back he called out to Wulfgar. “Get your geburs to dig a big communal grave for the Danes. I want every sign of this battle removed within the hour. I’ll see you in the village in an hour.”

Including the guards who had been left on the boats, there were 34 able-bodied or slightly wounded Danes rounded up, stripped of weapons and armour and any valuables and standing under guard. All the badly wounded Danes had been finished off by the English by having their throats cut, the captors believing there was no need for the prisoners to suffer unnecessarily from their injuries.

The English archers, including Owain, were roaming the battlefield retrieving their arrows for future use. Alan walked up to Owain as he was cutting one of his arrows out of a dead Dane, threw him a purse of silver pennies as said, “When you’ve finished here, go see the Fletcher and see how many shafts he can make for you before dawn.”

Owain nodded. “This isn’t over yet,” he agreed, slipping the purse into his pocket.

An hour later Alan was satisfied with progress on tidying up the battlefield, although the mass grave was taking longer than it should. The two boats would be re-floated on the rising tide and Alan ordered them to be taken far up Barfleet Creek between Brightlingsea and Thorrington and hidden as well as possible. Four Danish sailors were released to assist under guard.

Alan trotted into Wivenhoe mounted on Odin, who was showing his disappointment at missing out on the morning’s activities by tossing his head and sidling whenever he though Alan’s attention had wandered. Alan gave a jerk of the reins to show his displeasure.

The ride to Wivenhoe took only a few minutes and as he rode onto the village green at the centre of the village Alan was for a moment struck dumb, before he applied his spurs to Odin’s flanks and galloped up to Wulfgar, nearly riding him down in the process. “God’s blood! Are you totally bereft of your senses?” he roared down at Wulfgar from the saddle of the prancing horse. He indicated the village green where soldiers and villagers were mingling, casks of ale had been broached and food was starting to be cooked over open fires, although it was still only mid-morning.

Anne appeared next to Wulfgar, “What is the problem? The men won a singular victory. Wulfgar told me that it was the best piece of generalship he has ever seen. Since he saw Harold at Stamford Bridge, that’s no mean compliment! The men are entitled to their celebration.”

Alan looked at the two of them in amasement. “You really don’t understand, do you? Either of you? Lady Anne I can understand, but you should know better, Wulfgar. She may be unfrod and inexperienced but you must be ungleaw and stupid.” In reply to their puzzled expressions he continued speaking slowly as if to village idiots. “Fourteen ships rowed north towards Colchester this morning. They’re probably arriving there about now. I sent a rider to fitzWymarc, so I expect that the fyrd will have been called in, the gates closed and the walls manned. A raiding party that small is unlikely to be able to take Colchester by storm except by unexpected attack. What do you expect they will then do? Simply disappear like magic? If they can’t take Colchester, they’ll plunder and burn every village they can reach from the river in Lexden Hundred and Winstree Hundred to the north and west- Mile End, Dayneland, Beer Church, Fingringhoe- to get what they can to make the expedition worthwhile. And sitting on the east side of the river is Wivenhoe, all by itself. And you want our warriors to celebrate and drink until they become incapable? There’ll be 800 Danes coming back down that river, possibly late today but more likely tomorrow or the day after. They won’t be coming to pay a social visit. They’ll be here to pillage, burn, kill and rape.

“You need to be calling in every member of the fyrd and every man who can hold a knife. I expect to have 200 more men from Tendring Hundred here by nightfall- they’re marching in on foot. If I don’t, we’ll have some new thegns next week! After we have beaten the Danes when they come back down river, if we beat them, then you can celebrate.”

Alan stalked off muttering to himself and found Baldwin, who had his men well in hand and had restricted them to a pint of ale each. Alan gave permission for the men to take off their armour and rest after the long night and busy morning, and to receive a second pint of ale. As Baldwin helped Alan out of his hauberk and gambeson he gave a report on the losses for the morning’s battle. Three dead and one wounded amongst the archers; four dead spearmen and one injured; one dead swordsmen; one dead horseman and one with a severe leg wound. There were a number of minor injuries that would not prevent the men fighting again. Several of the villagers were dead or injured, but he had no details.

It was mid-afternoon when he walked out to the village green and greeted the men lounging in the shade of the trees. All had armour and weapons close by. Rolling up a bundle of cloth as a pillow, Alan lay down to get several hours sleep. It was nearly dark when he roused, stood and sought out Baldwin, who had been dealing with the arriving warriors. Hugh had arrived with the levies and men from Ramsey, Dovercourt and Great Oakley. Sending Baldwin for a rest Alan met with the Tendring thegns and had Baldwin distribute to the thegns’ retainers and fyrdmen the 100 or so chain-mail byrnies, swords, axes and shields that had been taken that morning, although most went to his own men.

He also sent a message rider to Thorrington and Brightlingsea, the latter to advise of the probable risk of immediate attack, and also to St Osyth to tell the inhabitants to be ready to evacuate the village and drive their animals into the forest if the invaders appeared on the sea.

Wivenhoe had a sandy beach with a wharf able to accommodate two ships, the village itself being built 500 yards inland on higher ground to prevent inundation on high tides or floods. There was woodland to the north and south, leaving an area about 500 yards wide clear between the village and the water.

The peasants were put to work digging long thin trenches in the wet low-lying ground about 100 paces from the edge of the village. The spoil was removed and placed as a breast-work just before the houses, sharp stakes were placed in the trenches and the cut sods carefully replaced over a network of thin branches over the trenches.

Men continued to trickle in from the east and south and Alan was overjoyed when four wagons arrived heavily loaded from Thorrington. Calling a group of peasants together he soon had them clearing a patch of trees and bushes at the edge of the northern section of woodland, stacking cut branches and shrubs to one side. The wagons were manoeuvred over to the cleared area and huge balks of timber and lengths of rope were unloaded, along with a giant cauldron and a number of barrels.

The wagons then rolled away and returned a little later loaded with rocks the size of a man’s head or a little larger, which were stacked between the piles of wood. There was also a small pile of about twenty hollow baked ceramic balls, each the size of a man’s head and each with a small hole at one end. As Anne walked up to see what the excitement was about, Alan and half a dozen men were fitting pieces of wood together and knocking wooden dowels in place with wooden mallets. The first machine was nearly complete, a large square of heavy timber with two upright posts, the rear post attached to a crosspiece onto which two men were currently tightly winding rope. The shorter front post was padded, thicker and not as high as the rear post. The length of the whole contraption was about fifteen feet and it was half that wide and high. Two of the men started to assemble the second machine as Anne arrived.

“What on earth are they?” she asked in puzzlement.

“Onagers,” replied Alan briefly. “They throw rocks and stuff,” he grunted as he increased tension on the rope. “These spokes twist the central skein of rope, which provides a force vector that causes the central beam to whip up and throw the object. I’ve already tested these two to throw a large rock 500 paces. This time I’ve replaced the sling with a sort of spoon, because I’m a nasty bastard.”

A workman carefully measuring amounts of different powders into a large cauldron gave a hearty laugh. “Greek Fire,” explained Alan. “Well… not really. It would perhaps be more accurate to refer to it as the ancients did and call it ‘Wildfire’. The Byzantines have been using Greek Fire in warfare for over 100 years, but the formula is a closely guarded secret. The Greeks and Romans used incendiaries based on naphtha. This is naphtha with the addition of some extra substances such as tree resin to thicken it, also nitre and sulphur. We heat it in the cauldron, then we add quicklime and pour it into the baked clay ball. Then we put the ball in the cage on the spoon-shaped container at the end of the moving beam, light it and pull the trigger. The result is barbequed Dane.” The workman gave a nasty snigger.

Anne looked none the wiser for the brief explanation and asked, “If it’s a military secret, how do you know about it?”

Alan looked up from carefully checking the consistency of the mixture as it was heated. “As I said, the use of naphtha to burn down gates and so on has been happening for over a thousand years. When I was studying in Paris I shared rooms with a man who was determined to try to discover the secret of Greek Fire and he did a lot of research and experiments. He intended to sell the formula to the king of France. I helped him sometimes. He added different substances to naphtha to see what the results were.”

“And was he successful?”

“Possibly. Indeed, I’d say probably, given that he blew up his laboratory and himself and caused a huge fire that burned down a number of buildings. At that time he was working on the problem of making the mixture self-combust. Fortunately, I was away visiting my family when he found the answer, or I’d have shared his fate. From that I learned to conduct such experiments outdoors and with very small quantities. What I have isn’t quite Greek Fire, as it can’t be pumped out of a hose and is quite unstable, but it does the job well enough for my purposes.”

When the second onager was completed Alan tested both, adjusting the tension on the ropes and lobbed half a dozen practice rounds of rock at various targets until he was satisfied with the setup. The practice rocks were retrieved and put back in the pile ready for use.

“What makes you so sure they’ll come to our village?” asked Anne.

“The same reason they came this morning- because you are here. A prosperous village, with men and women to seize and carry off as slaves, after they’ve had their fun with the younger women.” Anne blushed. “They’re just up the river and they’ll come just as sure as bees are drawn to a honey-pot, whether they win or lose at Colchester.”

It was now fully dark and Alan retired to the village green to sleep in the open with his men, declining Anne’s offer of a bed in the Hall.

Next morning dawned clear and bright, promising a hot summer’s day. Alan had had the village Fletcher up all night making arrows, and the blacksmith and his apprentice making spearheads. Now each village peasant could fashion himself a spear by cutting a suitable sturdy sapling and attach the newly-made spearhead. With this and the seax knife that each man owned as a mark of their free status, all would now be reasonably well armed.

Gimm, Alan’s young armourer, had arrived and was doing the rounds making small repairs and adjustments to chain mail armour and helmets, particularly those captured the day before and now being used against their former owners. Alan told the men soon after dawn that they could remove their armour. The day was hot and with the coming of light they would have sufficient warning of the approach of an enemy to have time to don their equipment and deploy.

Most of the thegns were giving their under-trained and ill-prepared fyrd members long overdue weapons training, both in individual skills and, particularly in the case of the spearmen, how to fight as a group. Alan, Hugh and Baldwin each gave several lessons on basic techniques to those who had received a sword or battle-axe for the first time after yesterday morning’s battle.

The day dragged on slowly. Most of the men sat in the shade and either dozed or pretended to do so. Others constantly fiddled with their equipment. The priest was kept busy hearing confessions in the small church and held Mass at mid-day on the village green. The archers set up make-shift targets and spent most of the afternoon in practice for small wagers. Small groups of warriors played dice or knucklebones. Anne kept local wenches circulating with food and water but, remembering Alan’s comments of the day before, no alcohol.

In the late afternoon Wulfgar walked up to where Alan was lying in the shade on his back with a broad-brimmed hat over his face. “Come and have a look at this,” he said abruptly, before walking off towards the river- carefully avoiding the traps that had been dug. Alan followed and as they neared the river Wulfgar pointed to a long thick pall of smoke that was rising about three miles away to the west, on the other side of the river. “That was the village of Dayneland,” he commented sourly.

“And we are next in the morning,” replied Alan. “It’s a late moon tonight. Have the men stand to in their full armour, in their proper positions when the moon rises. Post guards. The rest of the men can sleep, if they can, in their armour. You’ve shown Lady Anne this portend?” Wulfgar nodded. “It’ll be a big day tomorrow,” commented Alan as they walked back to the village.

Wulfgar grunted his agreement and uttered the traditional prayer of those who lived in the shadow of the longship, “God protect us all from the fury of the Norsemen.”

On the way back to the village Alan checked one of the traps that had been dug. Given the low-lying nature of the ground he wasn’t surprised to find it nearly full of water. He wasn’t concerned, as a six foot wide six foot deep trench full of water would be just as hard to get past as an empty trench with sharpened staves at the bottom, if not more so.

Alan had slept, or at least tried to sleep, in full armour before and was not surprised to find that night that this had not become any easier in recent years. Still, it was better than having the enemy sneak up on you while your armour was still in the wagons- or in the case for the Norwegians at Stamford Bridge several miles away on the boats. Like most of the others Alan had snatched only a few moments rest by the time the sergeants came around rousing the men as the moon rose a little after two in the morning, Bread, cheese, cold meat and water were handed around. The men buckled on their equipment and placed shield, sword or spear ready to hand.

For once Alan was glad about the early sunrise time. First light was a little after three in the morning and the sun rose into a clear sky a few minutes before four. Alan and his small band of ‘technicians’ checked the onagers and wiped moisture off the torsion ropes. Fresh dry kindling was placed under the large copper cauldron. The camouflage bushes and branches were put in place.

“Do you expect it to be over as quick as two days ago?” asked a small voice by Alan’s shoulder.

“You really can’t do what you are told, can you?” he replied with mock severity “I told Wulfgar to tie you to the table in your Hall.”

“I have a very engaging personality,” replied Anne with a smile “And I threatened to cut his balls off if he didn’t let me out. As you will see I have six warriors to look after me.”

Alan sighed. “Six against 600 or more. Still, you’ll be as safe here as anywhere, with the men I’ve positioned to protect the onagers. To answer your original question, no, it won’t be as quick as two days ago. That was a simple ambush against an unsuspecting opponent. But if the fight isn’t over within two hours, we’ll lose.”

“But why? We have a good defensive position, thanks to your efforts. Wulfgar tells me we have nearly 500 men, with you bringing the full strength of Tendring Hundred. Why can’t we beat them?”

“I didn’t say that we can’t beat them, but I’m afraid Wulfgar has been saying what he thinks you want to hear. There’ll probably be maybe 800 Danes- every one a trained warrior. Yes, we have 500 men, including 25 armoured horsemen and 40, slightly less than that now, archers. The thegns and a few huscarles and perhaps another 100 men have some knowledge and skill with sword, battle-axe or spear, but who won’t be as competent and well-trained as the Danes. The rest are farmers who were given a spear yesterday and have had two or three hours training. Man for man it will be absolute murder, with us on the losing side. We need surprise, tactics, the traps we have dug- and my little friends here,” patting the side of one of the onagers. “Maybe we have a chance, if they work as well as I expect”.

“You’ve never used them before?”

“No. Nor, as far as I am aware has anybody else for hundreds of years. Hopefully what’s in the books will work as well as I expect.”

“Err… I’m sorry, but that doesn’t fill me with confidence. These are my people,” said Anne.

“And mine, although not my village. One of the things I believe is to learn from the past. I know what to do today because I have studied the Romans, particularly Vegetius. The Danes will come in simple and dumb, doing what they’ve done for the past 200 years. They’ll all be infantry and will charge straight up the centre, the same as we barbarians did in Vegetius’ time. I’ll give them a lesson in ancient history and we’ll win. Or if it doesn’t work, we’ll all die. Or those that don’t die will wish they had. Take your pick.”

“I’ll join the ladies praying at the church. Perhaps intervention from Almighty God will assist us.”

“I’ll not turn down any assistance, particularly of a divine nature. I just don’t intend to rely on it. The Romans said ‘All things being equal, the Gods are on the side of the larger army’. I hope my engines here make things unequal!”

About an hour after dawn word came from the observers posted slightly upriver that a fleet of boats was proceeding downstream on the last of the outgoing tide. Further information was relayed as the boats came closer. A dozen longships and four trading cogs, at least one of which an observer recognised as being home-ported at Colchester, and he thought the other cogs were also.

Reports were brought regularly by runners and then the small fleet came into view around a small promontory. Several longboats gathered in a cluster for about ten minutes, no doubt as instructions were passed. Then eight longboats turned and started to row towards the shore. The four others and the trading cogs then continued on slowly southwards.

“Where do you think they are going?” asked Anne.

“Probably Brightlingsea,” replied Alan with some distraction. “Edsel, the King’s Reeve, knows raiders are about. Edward of St Osyth warned him on his way here. Edsel refused to send any men here, claiming as King’s Reeve I have no jurisdiction over him. He can look after himself for the time being! We may be able to provide help later, although I doubt it.”

Alan looked carefully at his preparations. The signs of the water-filled traps were visible only to those who knew where and what to look for. The warriors in the forests to the north and south of the clearing were carefully hidden, well back amongst the trees and bushes and either lying or crouched down. Alan could see where the bushes on the southern forest had been cleared to allow the horsemen relatively free passage when the time came for them to emerge, but of the horses and men themselves there was no sign.

The village appeared deserted, with the 150 or so men tasked with its defence carefully hidden behind or inside the houses and barns on the western edge of the village. The only incongruities were the apparently abandoned nature of the village and several wagons tipped on their sides at the edge of the village just to the south of centre, at the point where the traps would channel the Danish attack. The range-marking sticks that Alan had inserted at measured distances could be clearly seen but showed no apparent purpose or danger.

All the livestock, all the children and most of the women were hiding deep in the forest about a mile east of the village, although a few of the braver women had insisted on staying to support their men and to provide succour to the wounded. The small church and several barns to the east of the village had been prepared to receive the inevitable casualties.

“Light the cauldron,” Alan instructed his men. Moments later flames were flickering about its base and one of the men began to carefully stir the mixture that began to turn to a thick viscous liquid.

The eight longships carefully approached the landing place, each dropping an anchor behind it in deeper water before they slowly rowed up and carefully beached their ships bows-on to the shore. Men jumped over the bows of the ships and waded through the shallow water to the beach where they began to form up. There were a lot of them. As each ship emptied, the small anchor-crew remaining on board winched the ship back into deeper water by using a vindass winding pole, so each boat floated about thirty yards from the beach, free of risk of attack from men on the land.

The Danes formed up. There were eight groups each of about 75 men. At a command they began to move towards the village, the groups spread out in the middle part of the clearing on a front perhaps 300 paces wide.

Thegn Alric, who was in command of the troops on the English right flank, muttered to Alan, “I hope your plan works as well as the other day- there’s well over 600 of them, perhaps as many as 800.”

“But we have parity of numbers and our people are fighting for their homes and families,” objected Anne.

Alric snorted in apparent bitter amusement. “Equal numbers yes, but in a straight fight they would crush us in less than an hour. Most of them are full-time professional warriors. We have some part-timers with some degree of training and a bunch of farm-boys straight from the plough. Oh, they’ll fight, no doubt about that! But in a straight battle the Danes will go through us like a hot knife through butter. Let’s hope that Alan’s concept of so-called ‘combined arms’ works.”

As the enormity and peril of the situation became clear to her Anne’s brow creased with a frown of anxiety.

“Now, if my lady would kindly shut up, we can concentrate on what we are doing. In this plan, timing is everything,” said Alan rudely. Shooting Alan a look of dislike Anne fell silent.

The was still no movement in the village and some of the Danes could be seen chatting amongst themselves as they strode forward. “They’re paying absolutely no attention to their flanks. They’re wide open,” commented Alan dispassionately. He turned to the men behind him. “They are 200 paces from the village. Load the onagers with rocks and fill the fire-bombs.” Two men started to carefully ladle the heated mixture into the baked balls using a funnel.

“They’re now 150 paces away,” commented Alric. “I’ll join my men, as the fun is about to start!”

Suddenly, at 125 paces, the front rank of Danes abruptly disappeared as the seemingly solid ground game way under them. Those behind tried to stop, but many more were forced over the edge of the pits by the pressure of the men behind them who were unaware of the problem.

Weighed down by their armour, those who had fallen into the pits, except two or three exceptionally tall individuals, drowned in moments. At the same instant the men who had been in hiding in the village suddenly sprinted to their assigned positions along the central front.

The archers who had been hiding behind the overturned wagons stepped clear and began to rain death down on the exposed Danes, many of whom where now milling around in confusion. Alan estimated that at least 80 Danes had perished within a minute or two, with not a blow struck. Only in the centre, free of traps, could the Danes continue to advance, and they did so seemingly oblivious to the collapse of both flanks.

Alan had concentrated the archers and the best of the infantry at that point and as the English hurriedly formed up the Danes opposite let out hoarse battle cries and ran at the English line. They hit with a clash that could clearly be heard over the battlefield and began to hack and slash with sword and battle-axe. The English stood firm, shield to shield, the spears from the fyrdmen and farmers in the second rank stabbing forward at every opportunity. In several places Danes, either individually or in small groups broke through, mainly by the use of massive swings of their double-handed battle-axes smashing through shields and helmets and cleaving deep into the bodies of the Englishmen. In the course of a few minutes the 200 or so Englishmen holding the centre were being hard pressed by the 100 Danes that had so far reached the line.

In the meantime those Danes on each side of the centre were being channelled towards the centre by the traps. Their way forward being blocked by the traps, they followed the natural course of moving towards the open area. Alan waved to Alric, who unleashed the 75 men under his command, mainly spearmen, at the enemy left flank.

With most of the Danes facing towards the centre this unexpected attack on the unprotect flank took them by surprise, many falling to a spear in the back before they turned to face their attackers while continuing to fall back on the centre. At the same time Hugh and Baldwin sallied forth with the horsemen and a force of infantry on the other flank, again catching the Danes unprepared and disorganized. Using their lances, in two brutal charges the few horsemen smashed the right flank of the enemy, leaving 30 or more Danes dead and dying and punching the right flank towards the centre.

The Danes were not giving up and warriors turned to form shield-walls to protect both flanks, while others continued to stream forward to engage the English line. At the moment the Danes were in two groups. About 100 or so men were engaging the English line and a second much larger group was 100 paces back but striving to get themselves into some sort of order to continue the fight.

Alan turned and said to the men at his side. “Loose!” Two large rocks sailed through the air and thumped into the congested ranks of the Danes at the centre of the battlefield, those who had not had a chance to close with the English line. The rocks killed or injured perhaps half a dozen men. Alan estimated there were probably close to 350 of them bunched together and that they would overcome their surprise and shock within minutes and again become an effective fighting force instead of the disorganized rabble they were at this moment. This group was still 100 paces from the English line and level with the water traps. “Load fire-bombs!” instructed Alan.

The English forces attacking the flanks of the Danes had seen the two initial projectiles land and quickly fell back towards the trees from which they had appeared. “Loose!” ordered Alan.

Again two projectiles were launched. This time the result was dramatically different. As the English engineers were already reloading, the salvo rose through the air and then hit the ground close to middle of the group of Danes. Shattering on impact each ball splashed liquid in an oval shape over an area fifteen paces long by ten wide, the thick liquid sticking to whatever it touched. With a white flash so bright that it hurt the eyes even on this sunny morning, the oxidisers in the mixture spontaneously ignited.

Over thirty men were instantly immolated. Others, burning like human torches, ran screaming in agony, some throwing themselves into the water traps to try to put out the fire. But water does not put out Wildfire and the phosphorus continued to burn underwater as the Danes sank to the bottom of the water-filled trenches, dragged down by the weight of their armour. Soon strange white glowing shapes lay at the bottom of the water traps, still burning. Those splashed with just a few drops of the liquid dropped their weapons and screamed as the fire burned through armour, flesh and bone. A horrible sweet stench of burning flesh competed with the acrid fumes of the burning chemicals.

The onagers fired four times more before the remaining Danes, terrified and with their nerve totally broken, routed and ran for the beach, dropping shields and weapons as they ran. The centre of the clearing which moments before had been a mass of Danish raiders was ablaze with sheets of fire and thick clouds of black smoke, “Target right! Aim at the ships, distance say 550 paces, but DO NOT fire,” instructed Alan. “Sweet Jesus and Mary! What have I done? May God forgive me!” he said with a tremor in his voice as he surveyed the utter devastation at the point where the Danes had sought to stand. “You! Watch the cauldron of Wildfire and kill the heating-fire. If we’re not very careful what happened out there will happen here!”

Danes who had engaged the English line were stepping back and lowering their weapons, calling for truce. They numbered about 50 men. Perhaps a further 150 had reached the beach and several of the ships were rowing in to pick them up.

With half a dozen careful shots from the onagers Alan made it clear that the ships were neither to advance to the shore, nor were they permitted to withdraw and flee. Patches of burning naphtha floated on the water, well clear of the ships but eloquently making his point.

The English were disarming those Danes who had surrendered at the line. Alan walked over to Odin, who was tethered to a nearby tree and showing signs of frustration at missing out on yet another battle. Mounting, Alan indicated to Alric to join him and waved to get Hugh and Baldwin’s attention, pointing to himself and then the group of Danes gathered on the beach. He met up with the cavalry 100 paces from where the Danes stood and the squadron slowly trotted towards the enemy. The rest of the English host of infantry also moved forward but kept its distance when waved away by Alan. Alan and the cavalry halted ten paces from the front rank of the Danes.

“Who commands here?” he demanded. There was some discussion amongst the Danes to discover who of any rank remained before two men stepped forward. “I offer you surrender on terms,” said Alan. You can accept those terms or I will again call down the fire from the sky, killing each one of you most painfully and destroying your ships. What say you?”

The elder of the two leaders shrugged “I am Sven Ericsson of Aarlberg. This is Henryk of Flensberg. State your terms, although I see little choice other than acceptance or death,” he said.

Alan had some difficulty in understanding the Dane, although the common elements of Anglo-Saxon allowed him to gain the gist of what had been said in Danish. Anne trotted up on her white palfrey and placed herself next to Alan.

“I can speak Danish. Tell me what you want,” she said.

Alan pointed to the Dane. “He’s Sven Ericsson of Aalberg and seems to be the surviving leader. Firstly, they are to disarm. Weapons piled there, armour there. Any valuables on a pile there. Any man who keeps so much as a knife used for cutting toenails will be summarily put to death. After that they re-group. Please explain that to them.”

Anne passed on the instructions and the Danes formed lines to begin to divest themselves of their weapons and then were searched as they moved away. While they were doing that Alan asked Anne to arrange food and drink both for the victors and the vanquished. This time two quarts of ale per man for the Englishmen were allowed. The Danes could make do with water and be thankful. Anne gave instructions to one of her villagers, who hurried off. Alan looked up at the sky. “It’s still only mid-morning! It feels like the end of a long day,” he commented.

“Was Hastings like this?” asked Anne as the long line of Danes slowly shuffled forward.

Alan snorted. “No. That was my first battle and I learned a lot that day, mainly about what not to do. Probably the two greatest generals of our time were involved and they produced a blood-bath that seemingly lasted forever. There was a lake of blood at the bottom of the hill by the end of the day. Harold and the English occupied a strong position on top of a small hill, with steep sloping ground and trees to each side protecting their flanks. There were small brooks and marshy land at the bottom of the hill. We had no room to manoeuvre, which is what our form of combat is based on. Mounted charges uphill against a shield-wall protected by spears is a good way to get your cavalry killed.

“We started fighting at mid-morning and were still fighting in the dark as night fell. That was a simple battle of attrition and we managed to kill enough Englishmen to get some knights up onto the ridge and turn the flank, rolling up the shield-wall from one side. Until Harold fell when some of our knights broke through his bodyguard and cut him down, the battle could have gone either way. There were several similarities Both forces were about equal in number, one with a good defensive position but a large number of untrained troops. One with archers and cavalry, although my 25 horsemen here hardly count, and the other without.”

By now the Danes were back in a group on the beach, perhaps 250 men remaining alive and unwounded. The tide was coming in and Alan had the prisoners moved under guard slightly closer to the village. Most had worn tunics under their armour but many were naked to the waist. They were told to sit down and bread and water was handed out.

Alan instructed Sven, who was wearing a rust-stained tunic, to order the ships to come in and beach one by one and for the crews to disarm. Each ship contained about half a dozen men. The ships contained sacks of valuables, silver coins, silver and gold jewellery and articles, glass beads, more weapons, all apparently plundered from the English over the last few days of looting. And there were nearly 100 English captives, mainly young men and women but some children of both sexes also. They wore dazed, blank and bewildered looks; most were clearly in shock over what they had endured.

Anne took the rescued people immediately to the village and placed them in the care of the village women who had by now returned. The two other groups of captured Danes, the group from the fighting near the village and the group of survivors from the ambush two days before, were escorted to join the other prisoners. Without counting them Alan estimated that there were over 250 men sitting on the wet sand. They were surrounded by 40 archers, each bowman with an arrow notched in his bow and just waiting for a chance to use it, and about 40 swordsmen and spearmen. Alan found one of the sailors named Bjorn spoke good English and took him with him when he went back to see Sven. Between the various groups it appeared that five of their lesser leaders or chiefs had survived.

“You all know the penalties for foreigners caught raiding?” said Alan abruptly to the group of chiefs, who were sitting together. All three of the principal chiefs had perished in the fighting that morning. “The rich ones are offered the opportunity for ransom. The poor are either hung or sold as slaves. None of you look wealthy enough to bother ransoming. But you did surrender when I offered you terms, so I’m prepared to be generous if you do what I say. Eight ships sailed south-east along the coast several hours ago, four long-boats and four captured cogs. What were they carrying and where were they going?”

It took several minutes to sort out the answers. Where was quickly resolved- they were to wait for the other ships near Brightlingsea. No attack was to be made by them as they carried virtually no warriors, being packed with captives and loot plundered, including much of the contents of the warehouses by the wharf at Colchester.

It transpired that just what the ships carried nobody really knew, as items had been seized and stuffed into the ships indiscriminately. They would not be expecting the attackers of Wivenhoe until at least the next day as the attackers had anticipated taking their time enjoying what they could in the village and had not expected to be in any condition to sail until mid-day the next day at the earliest.

Instructing Hugh to maintain a close guard on the prisoners, Alan walked back towards the village, where those Englishmen who were not guarding the prisoners had gathered. Walking back through the field of death, when he reached the place where the Wildfire had landed Alan was sickened by what he saw and smelt.

Lying on large patches of burnt, charred grass were the horribly burnt remains of hundreds of men. Some had been totally incinerated, with little more than piles of ashes. Others were seared so that, while they still retained human form, their features and most of their flesh had been burnt away. Still others appeared largely intact but had died from having legs or arms burnt away. Many of the bodies continued to smoulder, filling the air with the stench of burnt flesh. Swords and helmets lay twisted and distorted by the heat.

Tears of anguish were running down Alan’s face as he walked into the village and saw a group of Danish injured, many with horrible burns, sitting and largely being ignored by the English. Beside the small wooden church was a line of English dead, with the local priest Father Ator on his knees half way down the line, providing last rites to the dead. Alan counted 47, mainly wearing the rough clothing of cheorls and peasants.

Alan saw Anne sitting on the ground with a group of women and children who had been rescued. As he approached he was embarrassed as many, clearly recognising his air of authority and quality of equipment, stood to kiss his hand in appreciation. Time and time again he asked them to sit. Anne and another woman helped him out of his hauberk, struggling with its forty-pound weight. Underneath his gambeson and tunic were soaked with sweat and he stank.

He sat tiredly on the ground and wiped his face with a wet cloth that one of the women in the group brought him. “My God that was terrible! I’ll never be able to do that again. May God forgive what I have done! I never thought that the consequences would be like that. What can we do to help the badly burned Danes?”

“Nothing!” said Anne fiercely. “Do nothing! It is God’s punishment for what they have done! Let them all die as slowly and as painfully as possible. Listen now.” She had the rescued English tell their stories of the attacks on Mile End, Dayneland, Beer Church, Fingringhoe and other smaller settlements. The attacks were made without warning, the men who tried to resist cut down without a moment’s hesitation. Wanton murder and rape. Women were now widows, children orphans who had seen both parents killed, elder sisters as young as eight repeatedly raped and then their throats cut. Torture and every kind of wickedness. One of the pagan Danish leaders, killed in the fires that morning, had proclaimed himself in league with the Devil and had impaled every thegn or person of nobility to die a slow death while their womenfolk and children were raped and killed in front of them. Many of the women and children sat in shock, staring into the distance and rocking back and forth. The women and children of Wivenhoe did what they could to give comfort, holding and cuddling children, holding the hands of women and wiping away their tears.

Feeling humbled and ashamed of his own self-centeredness Alan walked over to the much smaller group of rescued young men. Again, most were in shock, many having witnessed the death of close family members- parents, spouses, children, brothers and sisters. Almost all blamed themselves for not doing more and were ashamed of their own survival. In their own rough way the village menfolk were trying to help by listening to the stories, sympathizing and using the universal panacea of alcohol, in the form of strong mead and cider.

Alan instructed Baldwin to make sure that sufficient men stayed sober to take over guard duty every six hours, and that the fighting men stayed reasonably sober as most would be marching next day. He then went to the barns where the injured English had been placed and the women had done what they could to make them comfortable. Later, numb with exhaustion, he accepted Anne’s offer of hospitality at her Hall. He fell asleep sitting up at the table with a half-finished cup of wine in his hand. He woke to find himself washed, in clean clothes and lying on the bed in the main bedchamber. By himself.

After wearily rubbing his eyes he pulled on his boots and entered the Hall. Most of the thegns were presently sitting at the head table quietly quaffing ale. Several had bandages around arms and heads. Edwold had his arm in a sling.

There was no euphoria at the victory and the mood could best be described as quiet satisfaction. Too many on both sides had died and Alan could sense an undertone of dissatisfaction at the use of the Wildfire, despite its central part in the victory. It was felt too modern and unprofessional. Alric expressed it all for them as Alan sat down and took a pint of ale and a slice of cold meat pie. “So that’s the future of warfare, hey? Perhaps it’s time for me to retire and sit in front of my fire and leave this sort of thing to you more educated men.”

Alan waved his ale mug. “Not the future of warfare, but its past! I reached 500 years into the past to pull out the answer we needed to win today. You’ve heard the stories about what those Danes did over the last four or five days. They won’t do that again. I had thought, after they surrendered, of releasing them on parole not to return to England again and to give them two of the boats, but not after I heard those stories.

“I promised them mercy, so I won’t hang them. They’ll become slaves, but I suggest we sell them in London, Norwich, Nottingham and York. I don’t want Danish ex-warrior slaves with access to sharp farming implements walking around my estates. Divide them into four groups, hobbled together in a coffle. Three or four of each of you provide an escort to guard them, at least a dozen guards per coffle under a responsible man. Alric, Edwold, Edgard, Swein, Godfrith, Aelfweald, Edward, Cuthbert, Toli, Leofwine and Wade. Also Lady Anne’s thegns Aelfhare, Aethelwulf, Esmund and Wulfgar.”

“Aelfhare died fighting on the line today,” said Alric.

Alan crossed himself and spoke a quiet prayer to himself before continuing. “The head-money will be shared between the sixteen of you, including Aelfhare’s family. That would be about 6,000 shillings?” Alan looked across at Osmund and shouted, “Have you finished accounting what is in those ships and the pile of valuables yet?”

Osmund walked over with a piece of parchment and a quill. “It’s hard to be accurate, since I’m not sure of the values of all of the goods, or the jewels and so on. My best guess is about 12,000 shillings. Hugh has got it all under guard. Also he’s had the prisoners busy tidying the battlefield. He’s had all the trenches dredged to recover the bodies and the weapons at the bottom of the water and put those with the other weapons. All of the burnt and dead bodies he’s had dumped in two of the trenches and filled them in as mass graves- the Danes that is,” Osmund quickly corrected himself. “The dead from Wivenhoe will be buried in the churchyard here tomorrow, and each detachment will take its own dead home when they leave.”

Alan borrowed Osmund’s parchment and quill and made some quick calculations. “We’ll give each man five shillings, cash on the nail before they go. Not tonight, otherwise they’ll start gambling. 100 shillings for each man wounded who has lost a hand, foot or limb, and 100 to any widow whose man has either died so far, or who dies of his injuries. Two shillings to each of the Wivenhoe peasants who took part in the fighting.” Alan realised that even such small sums were a princely reward for poor men.

“Osmund, reserve enough to pay the men when they leave tomorrow morning, except my own men who I’ll pay when we get back to Thorrington. The rest, and the captured arms, we’ll distribute in one week from today in Thorrington to the thegns to use as they see fit. Hugh! Load the rest of the valuables and all the arms and armour into two of the longboats. Get the prisoners filling in the rest of the trenches. We don’t want the local children or drunks falling in and drowning. Break down the onagers, load them on the wagons and send them back to Thorrington. Already done? Good. I’ll have a word to you outside in a minute.”

As the thegns hurried out to do his bidding Alan saw that Anne had been sitting at the table, hidden behind the bulk of some of the men. “You always know what you want, don’t you?” she asked quietly.

“Mostly, but I usually don’t get it, not until the last few months at least,” he said giving her a meaningful glance. “Thank you for the bath, clothes and use of the bed. I hope that you also got some sleep?”

“My pleasure, or at least that of my fifty-year old housekeeper, who said she was most impressed with what she saw when bathing you.” A slight blush indicated that perhaps the attention had been slightly more personal than that. “And as for sleep, yes I had several hours on top of the bed next to you, with a maid in attendance of course. So perhaps one could say that we have slept together?”

Alan gave a hearty laugh before settling down with a sigh. “To business! There are four ships off Brightlingsea, holding more captives than we rescued this morning. I intend to take those ships tonight. Will you come with us and supervise the care of the captives once they are released? I don’t anticipate any significant danger. If you have any sailors or fishermen who are used to handling boats I’d appreciate it if you could lend them to me.”

Anne also returned to seriousness and nodded her acquiescence. “When do we leave?” she asked.

“It’s about four in the afternoon, isn’t it? I want to get started as soon as possible, so we come on the ships at about midnight.”

“Then we had best both get busy!” said Anne rising and calling for her steward Wybert.

Alan spotted Owain sitting on a nearby bench, tuning a lyre and walked over to him. “We haven’t had a chance to talk as I’d like. I’ll be taking a short boat trip in a few minutes, would you care to join me? Bring that longbow of yours.”

Owain raised eyebrows his eyebrows. “More action?” he asked in his lilting Welsh accent. “You seem like a man who can’t stop fighting. To be sure, I’d be glad to accompany you. Just I’m not going to do any rowing! I’ll get my bow and meet you at the beach.”

Alan interviewed the sailors from the Danish ships they had captured. They were 63 in number, about half Danes and the rest a mixture of Norwegians, Swedes, Germans, Finns and Icelanders, with a few Scots, two Russians, an Irishman and two Englishmen. Most had been hired for this expedition, although most of the Danes had sailed for the same chiefs before. Some had wives and families in their country of origin, but most were young and unattached. He chose 22 men from the non-Danes he felt he could trust, and offered them ongoing employment on the ships that he now possessed, promising housing and relocation to those with families. Anne had recommended seven local ex-sailors and two fishermen who could steer boats and who could be distributed amongst the ships for the night expedition. Osmund had been instructed to arrange the return of the Thorrington horses and had advised Alan that the men due to march to Clacton, Wyley, Thorp and Kirkly were more than happy to be carried part of the way on horseback.

Alan placed eight sailors and twenty warriors into each of four captured longboats. Sunset was due at a little after eight in the evening. Sunrise next day was due at just after four in the morning, with the moon appearing a little before two in the morning. With a northerly wind and outgoing tide they left at seven in the evening, gliding along silently.

Alan and Owain stood leaning on the stern rail of the ship, looking back towards the wake of the boat. “That’s a very useful bow that you have,” commented Alan. “Is it common amongst your people?”

“The longbow?” queried Owain. “”Yes indeed. That’s why the Saxons haven’t been able to conquer my people despite several hundred years of warfare along the frontier, and why you Normans will have the same lack of result.”

Owain picked up the bow that was leaning against the rail. It was larger than he was at 5’ 4”. The bow was 5’ 9”. He said, “The bow is matched to the bowman, being about as long as he is tall. The bigger the man, the longer the bow and the stronger they both are, but more important is the draw of the bow. The arrows are a cloth-yard long, 39 inches. As you saw today they can punch clean through chain mail. A good bowman will hit a single target most times at 200 paces and have fifteen aimed shots a minute.”

He strung the bow and handed it to Alan, who balanced it in his hand and then tried to draw it. It drew easily enough to the chest, but he wasn’t able to draw it to the ear. “It requires a lot of practice,” commented Owain. “You have to train and strengthen the specific muscles that you need, which are different from hacking around with a sword. Even a poor bowman will hit a single target at 150 paces most of the time and will hit an army all the time,” he concluded with a quiet smile.

“Why aren’t they in general use?” asked Anne.

Owain replied, “Because the men who hire the men to fight in wars all wear chain-mail. Norwegians, Danes, Normans, French and English. You wouldn’t encourage the use of a weapon that makes your expensive armour ineffective and swats your best trained swordsmen or horsemen like flies. We Welsh normally use it in close quarters in ambush, to punch through the mail shirts of the English. We don’t have enough men to stand and conduct a proper battle,” he said ruefully. “We have no armoured knights or huscarles and have been happy to kill the flower of Anglo-Saxon nobility well out of range of their double-handed axes. There aren’t many of us, so we hit, run and hide, disappearing amongst our wild hills at will. They burn our villages, but at a price- and a turf-roofed cottage is easy enough to rebuild when the invader has left the valley and you had little enough in the way of goods to lose in the first place. They kill every one of us they can find, but would discover we respond to the hand of friendship more readily- apart from the traditional cattle-raiding along the border. We really aren’t worth the trouble that has been taken over us by first the Romans and then the English. Perhaps the Normans will see more sense.”

Anne was clearly not comfortable with the idea of the English being invaders and the earls of Mercia guilty of attempted genocide.

“Don’t expect anything different from the Normans,” said Alan sourly. “If one sheep goes missing you can expect Roger de Montgomery, Hugh d’Avranches, Roger de Lacey and the rest to be across the border by nightfall, just for the fight if nothing else. Have your king talk to William when he returns, but despite whatever promises are made if there is any provocation by your people the war-bands will be on the march.”

Owain nodded his head at the words of advice and commented, “Certainly, and there is no way our people will give up sheep-duffing or cattle-rustling, not just from the Western Marches but also from each other. It’s a national pastime.

“Now back to these bows. They have a draw-weight four times that of most hunting bows, even those used for large game. They’re a specialist weapon that needs specialist training. Perhaps not full time, but a couple of half days a week. I’ve noticed your liking to kill the enemy at range to even the odds, or put the odds in your favour. I have no problem with that. Why stick a sword in somebody’s guts when you can kill him with no risk at 200 paces? Fuck chivalry! War is about winning and having the smallest possible number of casualties. What do you have in mind?”

“I’m thinking about having a combined-arms force, similar to what we Normans are used to, but with a difference. From what you say, you Welsh rely on bowmen. The English rely on heavy-infantry, as do the Norwegians and Danes- although they are more mobile by using their boats. The Normans use infantry and bowmen, but our main weapon is the armoured man-at-arms on horseback, and the use of manoeuvre on the battlefield. We won at Hastings despite that combination not working well and not being able to manoeuvre because of the ground. My thoughts are for 50 cavalry, 100 trained infantrymen, mainly swordsmen, and 100 partially-trained levy spearmen. And fifty archers, armed with longbows.”

“Good God!” exclaimed Owain. “Are you intending to fight the earl of Essex? I doubt he could raise more men than that!”

“No, but I have no doubt that this week’s invasion by the Danes will not be the last. Swein Estrithson has a claim at least at good as William to be king of England. After all, it’s only twenty or so years since the Danish ruling family was replaced as the kings of England. Harold Hardrada of Norway had a good claim, but whether that died with him at Stamford Bridge has yet to be seen. Swein was distracted last year by internal politics in Denmark, or it may have been a four-way fight for England and only God knows where the result would have gone! Certainly England would lie devastated under the heel of whoever had won.

“Yes, in the last few days we’ve been very successful with minimal forces and some use of tactics, something the Danes don’t understand as they tend to think with their axe. I intend to make sure that next time we have the men and machines we need so that if the enemy actually starts to think with their heads instead of their balls, we still prevail. Here in the east we face a number of risks from the sea, as well as the ‘give and take’ of politics at home. Rebellion by the English. Rebellion by the Norman lords. What would happen if William were murdered, or just dies accidentally? He has two sons. Who would support who for the Crown or the Duchy? Difficult times may well be ahead. This raid by the Danes is most opportune. It provides us with the weapons and the money we need to forge both a wealthy and a militarily strong Tendring Hundred, and to look after our own irrespective of what may happen in the future.”

Owain replied, “That’s all too complicated for a simple man like me. A figure of 50 longbowmen I can at least understand. How do you intend to achieve that?”

“Well, I believe that I have a master bowman standing before me. Do you have any other work that is pressing on you at the moment? I can offer you three shillings a week plus your keep.”

Owain’s eyebrows raised. Two shillings was what a knight was paid, and the knight had to provide his own armour, horse, feed and keep. “Tis a generous offer, and one I would find hard to refuse,” he replied. “How do you see this working?”

“I have my Norman bowmen Rogers and Warren, who will need to be retrained. The bow you use is not dissimilar to that used on the continent, but somewhat more powerful. I have twenty archers, based around Thorrington. All are used to the shorter bow and are reasonably competent with it, although I appreciate that is much different to the longbow. I would want squads of ten each at Beaumont, Alresford, Ramsey and Great Oakley. Maybe one later at Dovercourt. And with Lady Anne’s permission, here at Wivenhoe.”

“I’m not a bowyer. How do we get the bows?” asked Owain.

“You know one or two suitable bowyers in Wales?” queried Alan.

“Yes, in the Cardiff area. A good bow costs two or three shillings, and a skilled bower can make two or three a day. The main problem is a lack of suitable dried yew wood. It takes two years or so to dry.”

“Are there any technical problems?”

“Not really,” said Owain. “You’re familiar with the idea of composite bows?”

“Different woods and materials glued together to produce a bow with greater strength and resilience. Yes, they’ve been doing that in Arab lands for hundreds of years,” replied Alan.

“Well, the longbow is a natural composite bow, using the part of the tree where the heartwood and sapwood meet. Different woods with different compression rates, but from the one tree and in one piece of wood,” said Owain. “The traditional construction of a longbow consists of drying the yew wood for one to two years, then slowly working the wood into shape, with the entire process taking up to four years. The actual work to make a bow probably takes half a day for a skilled bowyer. The bow stave is shaped into a D-section. The outer ‘back’ of sapwood, approximately flat, follows the natural growth rings, while the inner side, the ‘belly’, of the bow stave consists of rounded heartwood. The heartwood resists compression and the outer sapwood performs better in tension. Your problem is going to be finding enough properly dried two-year-old yew wood cut to the proper requirements. That’s probably close to as many bows as get made in southern Wales in a year.”

With the favourable wind the ships covered the four miles to Brightlingsea quickly. Alan recommended to his men that they not put their armour on, commenting, “I can swim quite well, but not with forty pounds of harness on my back. Today you’re more likely to fall in the sea and drown than have somebody stick you with a sword.”

It was nearly midnight when they arrived off Brightlingsea. Although the moon had still not risen, the enemy ships could be seen by the lanterns hanging at their sterns. Alan had instructed the English ships to extinguish their lanterns, which caused the seamen some concern at the breach of standard procedures.

The attack went like clockwork. The English boats drew up near the eight Danish ships, which were anchored in a gaggle. The Danes loomed dimly in the dark, their silhouettes barely visible against the sky. The tidal water gurgled as it rushed past the hulls of the Danish and English ships.

Alan ordered four selected men from his ship to climb overboard. They stripped off and carrying a knife between their teeth swam towards the fat trading ship they was their first target. Four other men had as their target a nearby longboat. Moments later they also quietly swam away.

After what seemed an agonisingly long pause but in reality was only minutes, the stern light of the ship was covered once and then twice, the agreed signal. Alan ordered the oars used to bring the ship alongside its target and ten men swarmed aboard. Five minutes later the sergeant was back at the rail, advising that the ship was taken and the guards killed.

They progressed to the next boat, this time a longboat, where the process was repeated. As they had been informed, the ships carried only skeleton crews and few guards. Over the next few minutes the stern lanterns on the other ships flashed their pre-arranged signals of success.

The boats then congregated and Anne had herself rowed in a dinghy to the captured longboats, where the captives were being kept. She called Alan over and he was horrified to see perhaps 100 men, women and children chained together, mainly in a squatting position as there was insufficient room for them to lie down.

For most it had been two days since their capture and while they had been provided some gruel and water they had not been unchained and most were sitting in their own filth. Like the captives previously rescued many were sitting in a torpor, apathetic to their surroundings and what was happening around them. As each had their chains struck off they had to be helped to their feet and physically pushed towards where several water barrels had been set up by the mast for drinking and washing. A few of the women clutched young children either at their hip or by the hand, but most of the captives appeared to be less than twenty and single, or at least unaccompanied.

The few sailors who had been in the Danish crew were helping ready the ship for sailing. A quick look in the cabin showed why the guards had not appeared after the ship had been captured. Apart from the on-duty guard lying dead by the mast, the remaining five had been taken surprise by the raiding party and still lay on their bunks, each with his throat cut from ear to ear. The cabin reeked with the bitter stench of fresh blood and the sweat of the unwashed former crew.

While Alan supervised the disposal of the dead Danes, solved by the simple expedient of throwing them over the side, Anne disappeared to inspect the cargo-ships. She was gone for some time and by the time she returned Alan had moved two of the longboats close to the beach just by the village and sent for Edsel, the King’s Reeve for the village.

It was after four in the morning, the sun was up and the village had been stirring even before Alan’s men had started to knock peremptorily on doors. Alan’s men were carefully and gently assisting the former captives down from the bows of the two longboats beached on the mud-flat. The other ships were slowly sailing north up Barfleet Creek towards Thorrington.

Surprised that Anne had not returned, Alan gave Edsel instructions for the village to care for the released captives. When Edsel tried to demur, complaining about the cost, Alan uncharacteristically lost his temper.

“Listen, you mean weasel!” he roared. “Wivenhoe is also caring for refugees, and I’m taking another 100 to Thorrington. It’s time for you and your village to accept its responsibilities. When Edward came through here warning of the raiding fleet and requesting men to accompany him, you said nay and gave him not one man.

“I tell you this. If Edward and the other thegns had not met and defeated the Danes at Wivenhoe, your pretty village of Brightlingsea would be getting burned to the ground and its people massacred today. And all you can do is whine about ‘who is going to pay the cost of the food and drink?’ You are the King’s Reeve. You are responsible and you can attend to it. I’ll be speaking to King William when he returns and I doubt that you will be retaining your position in six months time.”

Alan stalked back to the longboat and was surprised when some of the refugees requested permission to re-board and accompany him to Thorrington. In particular one young lad of about twelve, thin and poorly dressed and with long dark hair, had been following Alan like a shadow.

Barfleet Creek wound north towards Thorrington, but did not reach it, the village being a mile or so beyond the navigable part of the river. As the incoming tide ceased, Alan’s crew had to get out the oars and start to row. They reached the remainder of the small fleet just as the tide had dropped so low as to prevent further progress even in the shallow-drafted longboat. The boat had run aground some distance from the shore and they had to wade through thick mud to reach solid land. An anchor was dropped and two men were left aboard to attend to the ship when the water returned.

Hugh and several others were standing on the shore and managed not to laugh at the sight of Alan, mired to the thigh and having lost one shoe in the mud. With a smile on his face Hugh said, “Sorry I can’t offer you a horse, but as you know we took every animal that could be ridden when we went to Wivenhoe and they aren’t back yet. Lady Anne has taken the refugees up to the village to be tended. Fortunately the hay-making and sheep-shearing can wait a few days.”

With an irritated grunt Alan limped off to the nearly deserted Hall, where he washed off the worst of the mud, put on a fresh tunic, leggings and boots before walking down to the village green.

As at Wivenhoe, Anne had organised the refugees into small parties, each group tended to by two or three villagers. Most distressing was the group of fourteen orphans aged from eight to twelve, being supervised by two matronly women. A small group of local children had started a game of knucklebones and managed to get most of the orphans involved, although several, particularly the older girls, were sitting quietly and with a withdrawn manner.

The stories the refugees told were similar to those heard at Wivenhoe. Small communities attacked without warning, slaughter, torture and murder, rape and looting. From the stories it appeared as if parts of Lexden Hundred and Winstree Hundred had been virtually depopulated. The Danes had swept through like a plague of locusts, destroying everything, burning villages and the isolated individual holdings or places where several houses stood close together. As before, most of the captives were young women who had seen their husbands killed, and all too often also their children. Some were men too young to be married, but strong of back and suitable to work as slaves in the fields of their captors.

In small groups they were taken to the local bathing place, a deepening of the creek that supplied the village with water, located just downstream of the village, to bathe and receive fresh clothing. They were then billeted with the locals, care being taken to keep together those known to each other, particularly the children.

Although Thorrington was reasonably affluent, some of its people were not and in some cases the clothing provided literally came off the back of the provider. Alan opened his store-rooms, but not all that was needed was in store and the local villagers generously made up any shortfall from their own belongings, including clothing, shoes, brushes and combs and many other small items.

The return of the first batch of warriors from the villages further north and east, those who had been loaned the use of the Thorrington horses when the Thorrington men took to the boats, arrived at mid-morning and caused an initial stir of fear amongst the refugees. After a brief rest and quick meal the men, now without the horses, moved on towards their homes at Tendring, Bentley and beyond.

Alan turned to the youth who had been following him as faithfully as a hound. “What is your name, boy, and where do you come from?” he asked gently.

“Leof, master. I’m from a hamlet near Fingringhoe. All burnt and gone now,” he concluded sadly in a rustic accent.

“Well, Leof, let’s get you cleaned up, clothed and fed. Come up to the Hall with me,” replied Alan. The Hall had its usual bustling character and Alan placed Leof in the charge of Otha the cook, sure that the boy would need a decent meal and that Otha could do with some assistance in the kitchen. However, not long afterwards the boy reappeared, now clean and with his long hair brushed, and stood behind Alan’s chair as he sat at the table talking to Osmund, who had been drawing up a list of the refugees, first at Wivenhoe and now at Thorrington. Osmund would go to Brightlingsea to do the same job that afternoon.

Anne came hurrying in and sat at the table. Alan waved for some food and wine for her and Leof disappeared like a shot, returning moments later with a laden wooden platter and brimming cup.

After giving the boy a brief nod of thanks Anne began to talk urgently to Alan in Latin, knowing that only he and his trusted scribe Osmund would be able to understand. “I’ve had a look through the ships, the two longboats and the four trading cogs. I’ve had a few things taken off and either put in your wine store or in a bundle in the room you use as your office. Now there’s no doubt that all those items belong to you by right of salvage. But most of them were seized by the Danes at Colchester, including the cogs. The previous owners are nearby and no doubt anxious to recover their property. To avoid any disputes, and any legal court cases that would drag on for months- and who knows what the outcome would be once the lawyers get involved- I strongly suggest that you get rid of them as soon as possible. I’ve taken a rough inventory and from what I’ve seen you’ve gone from being a man of substance to one of significant wealth in a couple of days. As long as nobody takes it away from you.”

Alan inclined his head. “And you have a suggestion as to how to do this?” he asked.

“Of course,” replied Anne. “As I have told you, my father is a merchant at Ipswich. I’ve taken the liberty of penning him a note instructing him to sell at Ipswich what is in the longboats and to send the cogs to Lubeck, Haarlem, Hamburg and Oslo to sell both the cargo and the ships. You should buy four different ships and then have them return to Ipswich with a return cargo. Father’s factors will know what to buy. I’ve told him that he can only keep ten percent of the gross, which no doubt will really upset him as he usually doesn’t work for less than fifty percent. Now, how many of the longboats do you want to keep? You have fourteen and that seems a bit greedy.”

“I’d like to keep six, maybe eight, and use them to provide some protection for the estuaries of both the Colne and Orwell. I’ll probably put a ballista on the bows of each one, which should make up for any lack of numbers,” said Alan with some confusion. “I hadn’t really thought about it.”

“Fine. Send six up to Ipswich and my father will sell them back to the Danes or the Norwegians. You should get a good price for them.”

Alan shook his head in bemusement. “This really doesn’t make sense. Why would I sell ships to the Danes for them to send back here to raid us again? And why would I want four trading ships? I’m a soldier, not a merchant. Not that I have anything against merchants,” he added quickly.

“The Danes and the Norwegians will build as many ships as they think they need for whatever purpose they want them, including raiding or trading. If you’re worried about trading with the Danes, we can sell them to the Norwegians- who will use them to raid the Scots, the Russians and the Danes. They don’t come down here. Hopefully that’ll satisfy your conscience. I’ll send off the trading cogs with the two longboats that still have plunder in them, with the best crews, with the next high tide. The boats still at Wivenhoe can be brought up here when you have the crews- that’s something else I’ve asked my father to attend to. You need reliable and knowledgeable captains and a few extra seamen. For ten percent of the gross I expect him to do some work.”

Alan shook his head again in confusion. “What is this all about?” he asked plaintively.

Anne reined in her enthusiasm, “I’ll explain in more detail later, but until this week you have been a prosperous and respected landowner in a small and remote corner of England. This Danish raid has delivered to you the means to be very wealthy and you can then do what you want with your wealth. Clearly you have designs to improve the local military. That will cost a lot. If you operate eight longships with their crews, that will also cost a lot- after all you can’t turn pirate and subsidise the cost by taking local shipping, although you could turn the tables on the Danes and go and raid them. Trust me.”

Alan gave in and shrugged. “Whatever you like! Select the six crews for the boats you’re most interested in and I’ll have the other boats at Wivenhoe brought here. After all, in six days we’ll be dividing up the rest of the captured booty with the other thegns who took part.”

“But not what you took last night. Those were your forces and that booty is yours,” instructed Anne. “Today is Friday the 31st of May, the Feast of the Visitation of the Blessed Virgin Mary” she continued. “Sunday is Trinity Sunday. Would you care to come and share it at my Hall?”

“Certainly, with pleasure! We’ll leave in the morning,” replied Alan. “Meanwhile, come and have a look at my new Hall at the fort. It’s basically finished and the workers are just completing putting on the last of the wood shingles on the roof. I still haven’t got the chimney working properly yet, though.”

Anne patiently withstood the detailed tour of the fort, showing genuine interest in the innovations such as the under-floor heating system; water piped in from a nearby spring to the stables and kitchen; the bathing house with a hot tub big enough for four; and, the piece de resistance, flushing latrines. Alan had opted not to use the Roman system of continuous flushing, as it would cause problems with needing too big a cesspit outside the walls in the low-lying land, but would use a flush-on-demand system where periodically a sluice would be opened to allow water stored in a tank to wash away the waste.

The barracks and stables were already occupied, the barns and granary were full and Gimm and his assistant were going through the armour and weapons stored in the armoury to see if any equipment needed repair after the recent battles. Stable-master Teon had boys at work in the tack room checking and oiling all the horse harnesses.

As promised, the Hall itself was virtually complete, with only a small section of roofing needing to be completed. Anne admired the paved floor, sturdy construction, private apartments and guest quarters. “And after this week I’ll be able to afford to put glass in the windows, instead of just using shutters or oiled cloth,” enthused Alan with what Anne felt was not unwarranted pride. He also proudly showed her his workroom, where there were three ballistae in various stages of completion, diagrams drawn in chalk on a large piece of slate attached to the wall.

That night Alan enjoyed his own bedchamber, and Edyth. Anne slept on the mattress in the Solar, lying awake drumming her fingers on the bedclothes in annoyance at the sounds of pleasure coming from next door.

Next morning Alan gave Anne a hand-up into the side-saddle on the quiet horse that had been found for her. As the escort of six mounted men-at-arms was falling in behind them Alan saw Leof looking dejected and called for Teon to fetch a quiet pony. “Do you know how to ride, boy?” asked Alan as Leof mounted clumsily. When Leof shook his head Alan gave a kind laugh and said, “Well, now is as good a time to learn as any! You have a nice patient pony and Lady Anne and I will give you some tips as we ride. You should be an expert by the time we reach Wivenhoe!”

Alan was content to leave the hosting of the Trinity Sunday feast to his new steward Faran and his scribe Osmund. As instructed by Anne, Alan had arranged for the six boats containing the majority of the Dane’s booty to sail on the high tide that night. Alan had also dispatched Owain on horseback to Cardiff with an order for 50 longbows, a large purse of 200 shillings and four trusted armed guards- nobody in his right mind would let somebody he hardly knew carry?10 in cash 200 miles all the way across the country and into hostile territory. Alan sincerely hoped that his trust was not misplaced and that Owain and the bows would return.?10 was more than most men earned in a lifetime.

Anne rode alongside Alan, on his right so that she faced him in her side-saddle. After some idle chatter she paused and said, “Alan, there is an ulterior motive behind this invitation.” Alan gave a polite look of enquiry but kept his silence, allowing Anne to continue. “You were, as usual, correct. It’s one of your annoying habits. When you were away in April, Robert fitzWymarc’s clerk came to see me, a little weasel of a man called Foucoud. His breath stank of garlic and obviously hadn’t had a bath since winter began.

“As you said was likely, he claimed that Aelfric had only taken up the land in laen for his lifetime and that I have to vacate. I told him that it was landboc owned by Aelfric. He demanded to see the ownership books, which of course I don’t have. I don’t have the charter to prove that and I don’t know if that is true or not, but presumably they wouldn’t be able to prove it wasn’t true. He then said that this caused no problems. Aelfric, my former husband is dead, there is no heir and as a widow fitzWymarc would be kind enough to find me a suitable husband. Indeed he had already found a suitor. An elderly knight, a Breton like fitzWymarc, who has been married three times before. Geoffrey of Rennes is his name.

“I asked Foucoud’s English assistant about this Sir Geoffrey and was told he is 45 years old, drinks heavily and beat at least one of his previous wives to death.” Anne paused but continued before Alan could interrupt. “I declined, and remembering your kind previous offers presumed to tell him that I already had an arrangement with a local knight of some renown. Foucoud told me that such an arrangement wouldn’t allow me to keep my manor. I told him that it would as both my former husband and my betrothed were both tenants-in-chief, holding directly from the Crown, so my lands aren’t in the gift of the local lord. That seemed to confuse him. He departed and I’ve heard nothing since.” Anne paused again “So I thought I’d better tell you that you are betrothed, before you heard it from somebody else,” she said with a small smile.

Alan had pulled up his horse in surprise and, having heard Anne out, turned Odin closer to Anne so he could reach across and give her a kiss on her lips. His initial chuckle soon grew into a belly-laugh that continued for a minute or so, before he kissed her again and said, “I’m delighted to hear of both my excellent taste in prospective spouses and my extreme good fortune. Better the devil that you know, eh?”

Anne blushed. “Not at all! I’ve been thinking seriously about your proposal for some time. You’re everything a woman could want. Handsome, educated, erudite, sensitive, caring, apparently passionate, honest. Not violent- your leman bears no bruises. A very good soldier and leader of men. The only problem is you’re French.”

“Norman,” corrected Alan automatically, still with a grin on his face, as he turned Odin to continue the journey. “Well, that explains some things you’ve been up to in the last few days, and I suppose I can trust my prospective father-in-law with my prospective fortune. What’s his name, anyway?”

“Orvin,” replied Anne with mock seriousness. “My mother is Lora Augstdottir. My uncle, who runs the shipping part of the business, is Lidmann. I have two brothers Betlic and Garrett, and a sister Mae. Garrett and Mae are older than me and both married. Betlic is nine, a late addition.”

“And you have arranged the date of the happy day?” said Alan, still smiling.

Anne gave a golden laugh. “No, I thought I’d leave at least that much to you.” After a pause she continued “Do you think what I told Foucoud will stand?”

Alan gave a brief tilt of the head as he considered. “By itself, probably not. FitzWymarc is now Geoffrey de Mandeville’s man, and Geoffrey is not a man to let a penny slip out of his hands. However, I’ll have a talk to the king when he gets back in September. De Mandeville will have other things to do than worry about fitzWymarc’s plans. I’ve no doubt I’ll sort it out with William.”

Anne looked seriously at Alan. “Truly I move in exalted circles, if my husband-to-be can talk so casually about meeting the king and so certainly about getting his way!”

Alan laughed. “William owes me a couple of favours and he knows it. Giving me land in Tendring was a part payment. He wouldn’t even think twice about Wivenhoe. He’ll just increase the number of men I have to provide him at service.”

The remaining few miles to Wivenhoe passed quickly and quietly, both Alan and Anne deep in thought.

“Two thoughts,” said Alan at length. “I presume you want me to meet your family. Have you told them yet?”

Anne laughed and replied, “No. I thought I’d better let you know first!”

“On Thursday we’ll need to be back at Thorrington to meet with the thegns. That’s the 7th of June, two days after St Boniface’s Day. The Feast of the Nativity of St John at Midsummer is the 24th June. That’s another Quarter Day when we both have to receive rents and pay our taxes, so that week is busy, quite apart from the seasonal celebrations. I’d suggest a week’s visit in the second week of June, long enough to meet them, not too long if we don’t get on. I’ve never been to Ipswich, so if needs be you can get me out of the house by showing me the local sights. On the way back we can look at North Tendring- Manningtree, Bradfield, Ramsey, Dovercourt. Since you know about everything else, do you know about salt-pans?”

“No. What was your other thought?” asked Anne.

“You’re going to have to learn Norman French, and quickly. I’m a member of the Curia Regis and I’m expected to attend at the king’s court. If there’s one thing I know about you, it’s that you wouldn’t want to look like a country bumpkin. Some good jewellery would be a good idea as well. It’ll help take the attention of the French-born women off your being English”.

“You are not ashamed of me already, are you?” asked Anne in alarm.

Alan reached over and patted her hand in reassurance. “Definitely not, but French women are all bitches who do nothing but needlework and gossip. Not one that I have met has a fraction of your ability and intelligence. I want a wife who is a working partner, if perhaps the junior partner, not just an ornament or a sleeping-partner. I just don’t want to give those bitches something else about which to criticize you.” He affected a high pitched voice, “Oh! The woman not only doesn’t know about fashion or wear the latest dresses, but she doesn’t do needle-point and can’t speak French. Worst of all she can read,” he mimicked.

“When should we get married?” asked Anne, reaching across with her left hand to hold Alan’s right.

“As soon as possible, to present that bastard de Mandeville with a fait accompli that he can’t change. There’s no way he’s going to ask the pope to annul the marriage,” replied Alan. “Where do you want the ceremony? Ipswich, Wivenhoe or Thorrington?”

“I think Wivenhoe, so the people can see their new lord, then we’ll move to Thorrington. It’s got better accommodation in that wondrous new Hall. I won’t need to get any jewellery. The part of my dowry that wasn’t in cash, which my former husband promptly gambled away, was in jewellery. Merchants believe strongly in easily transportable wealth.”

With the early start to the day they arrived at Anne’s Hall at Wivenhoe a little before noon. Leof had hardly been able to walk after he had climbed off his horse and Anne had asked a young housemaid to rub his chapped and aching thighs with ointment of wintergreen, sure that both would find some benefit from this.

As their arrival hadn’t been expected, Anne’s cook Rheda was put into a panic by their sudden arrival. After some quick preparation, Friday being a fish day, she provided grilled fresh trout with garlic and carmeline sauces and fried vegetables followed by fresh fruit, washed down with red wine.

Anne drank her wine well-watered, Alan his un-watered but in moderation. Anne spent the afternoon showing Alan Wivenhoe with as much pride as he had shown her Thorrington and its new fort, and she checked on progress with the refugees. About a quarter had already left to return to whatever was left of their former homes and lives, others were more fearful and were waiting for the armed escort that Wybert, Anne’s steward, had promised. Others, perhaps half of the total, had asked to be permitted to stay, stating that they had nothing and nobody left to return to and that they felt secure in this community.

With more time for preparation Rheda pronounced herself more satisfied with the usually less elaborate and smaller evening meal, this time of shrimps with onions and garlic, fried herring with mustard sauce, vegetables with cumin sauce followed by an apple tart. The couple dined alone at the high table, the servants eating more simple food at the trestle tables in the lower part of the Hall. Anne gave some quiet instructions to her maid Esme who left the Hall and reappeared sometime later.

Like the Hall that Alan had ‘inherited’ from Estan, Anne’s Hall had private quarters at one end screened off by a wooden wall. With a direct look at Alan, Anne said, “It’s been a long day and we’re both dusty from the ride. Let me escort you to the bedchamber where I have arranged a bath.”

Nothing loath, Alan rose and was surprised when, after leading the way into the bedchamber, Anne dismissed Esme. There was a large metal hip-bath and several wooden buckets of hot water placed on the floor. After the door had closed she shed her own russet coloured dress, standing in her knee-length white shift. Moving to Alan she said, “Come, you can’t bathe dressed, let’s get that tunic off you,” as she gently pulled the tunic over his head. Alan, while acknowledging that he was sometimes not quick on the uptake, was quick enough to unbuckle and remove his own pants.

Anne gestured for him to step into the bath, pouring a bucket of warm water over him and began to scrub him with soap and a sponge. Alan gently undid the buttons at Anne’s breasts and she allowed the shift to fall to the floor. They soon found out that there was insufficient room in the bath for two, and after taking it in turns to wash and be washed and dried Anne took Alan by the hand and led him towards the bed, untying her long auburn hair and shaking it to fall loose as she did so.

About an hour later, now understanding why Edyth tended to be so noisy in her love-making, satiated and satisfied that for once the sexual act had involved tenderness and love rather than violence and abuse, Anne asked in a sleepy voice from her position curled up under Alan’s arm, “Are Edyth’s breasts really better than mine?”

“Yes,” replied Alan, with his usual lack of appreciation of when to dissemble. “They’re larger, but yours are nice and firm,” he said with a gentle squeeze of one of the parts under discussion.

“Cifesboren!” said Anne sweetly as she elbowed Alan hard in the stomach.

When he got his breath back Alan replied, “Well, you did say that my honesty was one of the points that redeemed my Frenchness. You need to learn not to ask questions when you may not like the answer!”

“And you, my little Frenchman, or indeed not very little at all, need to learn when discretion is required,” growled Anne.

Towards daybreak after their third, or was it fourth, time Anne asked, “When is your nydh?mestre moving out of your Hall?”

Alan had not been insensitive to the fact that Anne had invited him into her bed, rather than trying to inveigle her way into his. “Well, my little scamleast galdricge, that depends on when you are moving into it,” replied Alan. Having learned quickly he was able to catch the swinging elbow and gave her a deep kiss. “Tomorrow?”

As she moved on top of him Anne said, “How about today?”

Later, as they were dressing she said, “Seriously, what are you going to do about Edyth?”

“I was thinking about giving her a nice farm up near Frating. With a good income and her looks, she’ll have no trouble finding a suitable man,” replied Alan.

“Dovercourt,” replied Anne firmly, naming the town furthest away in the Tendring Hundred.

Alan smiled. “Dovercourt,” he agreed. “And let’s make it Tuesday so she has time to pack properly.”

“I’ll be there mid-day Tuesday and you just make sure there are no farewells between now and then,” said Anne with a not very veiled threat in her voice.

Alan gave a single nod of agreement. “We’ll move into the Hall at the new fort at the same time,” he suggested.

Anne agreed. “Wash the bed linen and sheets,” she ordered.

CHAPTER TEN

THORRINGTON JUNE 1067

Edyth proved to be a very pragmatic woman. She’d never expected marriage or anything other than a temporary arrangement with Alan, as after all she was just a simple daughter of a country miller. Despite the short notice she was more than happy to accept the offer of a twenty acre dairy farm at Dovercourt, along with a dozen dairy cows, a house and outbuildings and two slaves, one male and one female. The offer of a small cart and a donkey to take her effects and an escort of two cheorls was accepted. As he had promised Anne, Alan graciously declined her offers of companionship for the two nights until she departed on Monday morning.

The entire Hall was in an uproar over the move to the new quarters, with three wagons trundling back and forth to transport the packed boxes, bags, chests and food stores the several hundred yards from the old house to the new. The new Hall was indeed ready for occupation, with the roof completed. Fresh rushes had been strewn on the paved floor and the fire lit.

The chimney still wasn’t drawing properly and smoke drifted through the Hall like in any other. The system of heating the bath-house and laundry water using the heat from the kitchen fire did work, and a trial run of the furnace for the hypocaust heating system showed it was apparently effective. All that was lacking was glass for the windows, but given the heat of summer that was no hardship.

When Anne arrived at mid-afternoon on the Tuesday the 5th of June she arrived in style. Three wagons drawn by oxen delivered essential goods, a dozen male servants for the house and her two maids Udelle and Esme, with Anne herself riding on her palfrey Misty and with an escort of a dozen warriors. With Synne and Willa, the Thorrington housemaids, this gave her four maids, together with the various cooking, cleaning and other domestic staff.

Despite the lack of vows made on the church steps there was no doubt in anybody’s mind that the new Lady of Thorrington had arrived, although the irregularity of their position would no doubt make it embarrassing the next time that Alan had to pass sentence in the Hundred court for the offence of illegal cohabitation. Anne had also brought her small pack of wolf-hounds and these settled into the Hall after some judicious posturing and position-making with the several dogs that usually were present in the Hall.

Alan of course made a great fuss of her, introducing her to the staff as his lady and instructing his steward Faran and cook Otha to take their instructions from her. As the other thegns would be attending on Friday, Alan had only invited to the meal Brother Godwine, together with his own senior staff of Faran, Osmund, Hugh, Baldwin, Roger and Warren, and also Toland the Torrington headman.

With plenty of warning the cook Otha had excelled herself with the food. Beef soup was followed by stuffed suckling pigs, roast pheasants, pork pies, veal and herb stew, glazed pork chops, roast venison, spinach tart with mustard greens, almond cress, turnips with cheese. Dessert was fresh blackberry pie, strawberry tart, gingerbread and some of the excellent cheeses that Alan favoured. A cask of the fine French wine taken from one of the Danish ships (origin not disclosed) was broached and drunk along with ale, mead and cider.

Anne played the perfect hostess, no doubt used to English dinners turning into drinking sessions, putting up with the bawdy jokes, kisses from beer-moistened moustaches and the groping of the serving wenches- the latter especially by Brother Godwine. She and Alan took the opportunity to quietly sneak out of the Hall and up the stairs into the bedchamber when nobody but Faran was looking, Alan giving Faran the nod to take over as host.

Upstairs in the bedchamber Anne ceremoniously sniffed the newly-washed bed linen, announced that she was satisfied and allowed herself to be undressed before the two of them went to sleep after a simple cuddle.

Next morning Anne left nobody in doubt as to who was in charge of the household. Work was allocated and re-allocated. Synne was chosen as head-maid, much to the chagrin of the others. The Hall was obviously spotless, being brand-new and just occupied, but the store-room needed restacking to Anne’s satisfaction and a myriad of other work undertaken.

On the Thursday the meeting of thegns which Alan had called was held at the Old Hall, which was to become the meeting-hall and court-house for the village in place of the previous intermittent use of the tithe-barn. All the thegns were in attendance by the appointed hour of ten o’clock. Each greeted both Alan and Anne and received from Osmund an inventory of the items taken in the joint battle at Wivenhoe, marked with which items had already been distributed to the warriors, and sat down to study the list over a tankard of ale.

Alan knew that, unlike Norman lords, almost certainly each one could read and understand the figures. English nobles had a very high rate of literacy in their own language and took learning seriously. As a scribe Osmund was granted equal status by the men around the table, who listened closely to his explanation about what had been taken, what had been disposed of and how.

Much of the coin and jewellery had been distributed to the warriors as their bounty after the fight. Apart from the arms and armour, most of what was left were larger items such as bolts of cloth. “You’ll each receive your head-money when the slaves are sold, which should be received in the next week or so. These larger items are saleable, or you may wish to take advantage of the fact that in another two weeks is the next Quarter Day, on the 24th. You can use these to pay some of your taxes in kind. Any questions?” Questions lasted a little over half an hour and were smoothly dealt with by Osmund and his references to the inventory.

“Now as to arms and armour, we have 437 usable sets of armour. Quite a few were melted to slag by my lord Alan and his engineers. There are 163 battle-axes; 210 swords; 136 spears; 480 shields; 582 helmets. These are, of course, all very valuable. The different villages and thegns provided different numbers of warriors. The warriors each received the same bounty of five shillings a head- the dead and injured more, as you know. Apart from the head-money, and how you divide that up will be up to you and you can talk about that later, the arms and armour are the main valuables left to be divided.

“My recommendation is that we divide them up on the basis of the number of warriors each village and thegn provided, except I would suggest that we make special provision for Wivenhoe where they had many untrained cheorls and sokeman take part in the fight. Other than that, the largest number came from Thorrington. You each have a listing of how many men came from where. I suggest that Wivenhoe gets all the spears and one eighth of the rest. The split up of the remainder would be according to this list I’ll now hand out.”

With only a few questions and items to be sorted out, agreement was reached with a speed that surprised Alan, who had known wealthy Norman lords argue for half a day about a couple of swords.

At the conclusion of business Alan thumped his tankard on the table to attract attention. “Hlaford! Last week we were fortunate at Wivenhoe. Yes we won a battle that those of you who are bards can weave into a memorable song. But the simple fact is we were lucky. We had 500 poorly-armed farm-boys who barely knew which end of the spear to hold. The few Danes who reached our line and fought man to man massacred our men.

“We won because they fought dumb and did exactly as we expected. That will not always happen. At some time in the future we will fight against capable leaders who deploy their men innovatively, or know how to either use combined arms or how to fight against them. We won’t always fight defensive actions. Some of you have huscarles, professional full-time soldiers, in your households. They should be professional enough to know that they need to train every day. Your fyrdmen should not come straight from the plough to the battle.

“Before now you could say that you didn’t have arms to give them. That is not now the case. Each fyrdman must receive half a day of training a week in individual weapons skills and formation fighting. If he complains about spending his time doing that, particularly in the busy seasons, remind him of Wivenhoe and the fact that he may not be lucky enough to avoid facing a Danish battle-axe next time, and it’s his life you are trying to save. Appoint your fyrdmen into squads and put a senior man in charge and drill them. Next time I call I expect- no demand- to have 500 trained men on the field. You, along with every freeman in the Hundred, have a duty to be ready to defend your village, your Hundred or your country. At the risk of offending you, the national fyrd performed badly at all the three battles fought last year. The performance last week of the local fyrd was unacceptably bad. The Wivenhoe farm-hands and slaves fighting for their village and homes fought at least as well as the fyrdmen.

“You will ensure that in three months time that does not happen again,” he continued in a thunderous voice, before continuing more moderately. “If any of your sergeants need training to be able to train your men, send them here and we’ll teach them how to lead and train men. Those of your men who do not have swords or battle-axes can use spears and bows- they’re cheap and effective enough if the man knows how to use them properly and fights as part of a team. You should each send huntsmen here for a fortnight for Warren to teach how to use a bow in battle. Warren will begin his classes on Monday week. Each man will make his own shield. They are easy enough to make, taking just a couple of hours even for an unskilled man, and we’ll use the standard ‘kite shaped’ design. I want every fyrdman in every village to have a linden-wood and ox-hide shield in a week. They can hew, cut and glue the linden-wood; you can provide the rawhide. In the unlikely event that a village doesn’t have somebody who can instruct others to make a shield, lessons can be arranged.

“Horsemen. You saw how my meagre twenty horsemen could dominate their part of the battlefield. A few of you were at Hastings. Most have not seen a battle where there are hundreds or thousands of horsemen involved. I need five young men, each in some of the armour you have just received, and five fit young rounceys from each of you for me to train to fight on horseback. The future of warfare is on horseback and I’d suggest that sending some of your own younger sons would be suitable. I’ll be doubling my own force to 40 trained men. That will give us a significant force of 100 men on horseback. Again, have them here on Monday week.

“After we have equipped and trained our men, if the Danes, Norwegians, rebel English- or our Norman neighbours Geoffrey de Mandeville or Richard of Clare or Aubrey de Vere- come calling with sword and fire we will meet and defeat all of them. We will be able to beat anybody who comes with less than a full army at his back. Hlaford, don’t go away today feeling self-satisfied. You have work to do!”

The thegns were all thoughtful after being addressed in this manner. Some were clearly upset at being told that their performance of their positions had been lacking and that improvement was demanded. However, most appeared to accept that change was needed in changing times- largely prompted by Alan’s success in the encounter with the Danes.

After a light lunch and several more tankards of ale, the thegns had their men load the booty into their wagons, while the thegns themselves went to visit the ‘incredible palace’ that Alan had built. Most admiration was reserved for the toilet system. Any warrior respected good latrines.

The meeting developed into a drinking session in the afternoon, when the rest of the wine was finished off and Alan’s innovative plans discussed. By ten that night most of the thegns were snoring on beds in the guest quarters. Each left next morning after they woke, ate the traditional small breakfast washed down with ale to ‘take away the headache’ and rode away.

“That went much better than I expected,” commented Alan to Osmund, Faran and Anne at lunchtime.

“Not really,” said Osmund smugly. “I put up a reasonable argument, one that was fair. I put it in writing to everybody so they can see it is fair and know that you can’t change it later. Everybody received the same offer, without favour. If they argued about it, their fellow thegns would have seen them as penny-pinching slugs who can’t be trusted. Our Hundred system is built on mutual trust. It just wasn’t worth anybody’s time to argue about what was clearly fair. Of course, they didn’t know about the 100 sets of arms and armour we took two days before, the contents of those ships, or the ships we took the day after the main battle. None of that was their business because they weren’t involved in those fights, but if they had known about it that may have caused some arguments- after all you got nearly a quarter of the arms and armour on offer today. However, I did think some of them were going to wet their pants during your little lecture. Now what happens next?”

“Faran and Wybert, Anne’s steward at Wivenhoe, are to get the Quarter Day taxes ready to be paid and the rents in by Midsummer. Osmund, you and I will ride a circuit of the manors and talk to the stewards and the village head-men. Faran, get the second ploughing of the fallow fields and the haymaking completed. Hugh, recruit as many men as full-time soldiers as you can. Talk to the male refugees and see if any want to take service. Increase the number of beds in the barracks until this training cycle ends. Buy some decent chargers or rounceys at Colchester, say ten of the best you can find. Roweson and the stud at Ramsey can’t be expected to cope with these numbers, not after we already stripped them bare a few months ago. Anne and I will be off to visit her family in Ipswich, but we should be back well before Midsummer Day. We can buy some horses while we’re there.”

It was shortly after sunrise at four in the morning on Saturday the 9th June when Alan, Anne and an escort of a dozen mounted men-at-arms rode out for the 28 mile ride to Ipswich. The men were armed, but not wearing their armour, the rolled up chain-mail being carried on two sumpter horses. Two other horses were laden with bundles of cloth which Anne had removed from one of the trading cogs, well wrapped in hessian.

When they had discussed the escort in the privacy of their chamber Alan had thought that half a dozen men would be more than adequate and a dozen was ostentatious. He had quickly changed his mind with Anne’s reply. “It’s not for going there, or for us at all really. Father will no doubt have sold the cargo of the first two longboats, as I instructed him. As the Danes took the best of what was available in the warehouses at Colchester, I doubt very much whether the value would have been less than?100 per boat. For the two boats that is 2,000 shillings or 24,000 silver pennies. You can’t hide that in your pocket. We’ll be a tempting target on the way back.” Alan had to admit that there was little that Anne did that was not well thought out and logical.

Her dress for the journey was an example of this thoughtfulness. She wore a broad-brimmed hat and a long-sleeved blouse, both to keep off the hot sun and preserve her fair complexion. Innovatively, she wore a pair of men’s trews covered, in the main, by a loose skirt that had been slit at the front and back, as she was determined not to ride side-saddle for 28 miles.

They paused at Manningtree after a ride of a little over an hour to rest the horses, stretch their legs and have something to eat before crossing the river on the wooden bridge, paying the pontage fee as they did so. The rutted dirt road wound through field and meadow, but the land was mainly large tracts of forest or unused ‘waste’. They pressed on to Ipswich, arriving — in Anne’s case quite sore- as the priory bells were ringing for Sext at mid-day.

They passed over the wooden Stoke Bridge and approached the South Gate in the city stone wall, the water-mill on their right clanking and grinding. The gates were attended by two guards who looked closely at the armed party as they rode past. Passing St. Peter’s Church, they took the main thoroughfare up Brook Street, passed the small church of St. Stephen and continued until they reached Carr Street, where Anne’s family had a large house and a nearby warehouse at Cornhill. Anne had sent a message several days before with a carter, and so they were expected- although the size of the escort surprised the elderly porter, Rinan. At Anne’s suggestion Alan sent the men to the ‘Fox’s Head’ inn at nearby Tavern Street.

Odin, Anne’s white palfrey Misty and the four sumpter horses were taken by a stable-lad to the stables at the rear of the building. The porter summoned a servant to carry the saddle-bags and cases to the guest rooms. Attracted by the commotion an elegantly dressed good-looking woman of about 35 with red hair appeared at the doorway to the vestibule. Anne threw decorum aside and with a cry of “Mother!” rushed up to embrace and kiss the older woman. After a few moments of mutual hugs and laughs Lora, Anne’s mother, held her daughter at arm’s length to look closely at her.

“You look well, better than last we saw you! But what on earth are you wearing?” Turning to inspect Alan, looking up as he was more than a head taller than she, she took in his rich but travelled-stained clothes of sombre hue and the sword at his waist, she asked, “And who is this gentleman?”

“Mother, may I present Sir Alan of Thorrington. Sir Alan, may I present Lora Agustdottir, my mother. Mother, I assume father is still at the warehouse?” Alan bent to kiss Lora’s soft small hand, murmuring a greeting.

“Yes, and Beltic is still at the Holy Trinity Priory school. I’ll send a messenger to Garrett and Ellette, Mae and Raedwald to let them know you’re here, and get the cook to prepare a suitable welcome home meal. Now will Sir Alan be staying with us?”

“Certainly, mother. You need prepare only one guest room, and please have Rinan send the baggage up and prepare a bath, so we can wash off the dirt of the road,” replied Anne in an off-hand manner. Alan managed to keep a straight face about what had obviously been a piece of mischief on the part of Anne to shock her mother.

Lora frowned and pursed her lips but held her obvious disapproval in check. After all, her daughter was seventeen, a widow and the holder of a substantial estate- and her paramour did not from his appearance look as if he was a person who was ‘gold digging’. With a nod of instruction to Rinan, Lora led the way through the doorway into the main part of the house and indicated a wooden staircase to the right “Your usual room, dear. I’ll let your father know that you’re here and have Rinan tell you when he arrives. We’ll dine an hour after the bell for Vespers.”

Anne first showed Alan the location of the privy, which they used in turn, before they proceeded upstairs. The bed in the room was just large enough for two, and trusting in Rinan’s discretion they ignored the tap on the door that came an hour later until they had finished their personal business. Anne dressed elegantly in a dark-blue dress heavy with embroidery and wore much of her jewellery, and also of course her dress seax knife that proclaimed her status as a freewoman. With the warm weather and anticipating a warm room for the dinner, Alan wore a simple tunic and hose of understated and elegant black silk embroidered with silver, black boots, his gold signet ring and an undecorated bone-handled knife at his belt.

As they entered the Hall Lora looked up from her chair and frowned when she saw the tell-tale flush on Anne’s cheeks, while Orvin, a small and thin man of about 40 with sparse blonde hair and dressed in a tunic of heavy yellow velvet stepped up to Alan and looked up at him closely as they grasped forearms. “Welcome to our home,” he said in a surprisingly deep voice. “I trust that Anne has made you comfortable?”

“Most comfortable, thank you,” replied Alan, unable to keep a slight smirk off his face. Anne gave a big grin and Orvin blushed a little at the double-entendre.

“A glass of Bordeaux?” Orvin asked to cover his confusion. Alan accepted, as did Anne. Alan declined the offer of water in the wine. The wine was poured from a glass decanter into a set of obviously expensive imported coloured glass goblets. Alan and Anne sat next to each other on a padded leather settee, Anne capturing Alan’s hand to hold ostentatiously. Alan sipped at the wine and closed his eyes in delight.

“Liquid gold,” he breathed appreciatively. “That’s why I don’t like to water my wine.”

“And what do you do for a living, young man?” asked Orvin trying to get to the nub of the matter.

“Oh, I’m a simple soldier,” replied Alan blandly. Orvin looked at the expensive clothes and Alan’s relaxed and confident manner, and obviously took the comment with a large pinch of salt.

“Perhaps if we wait until the others arrive before you start dragging answers out of Alan,” suggested Anne. “It’ll save going over things twice or three times. Firstly, though, before the others arrive, did you get my letter and the six boats?”

“Yes, I did. I presume that will be part of what we discuss later,” began Orvin.

“Actually, it won’t. We can discuss that tomorrow in private. You did as I asked?”

“Yes, the cargo of the longboats was sold at the market here in Ipswich a few days ago and the longboats themselves are on the way to Trondheim to be sold to the Norwegians. Very good cargo it was too! We received excellent prices. The four trading cogs are on the way to various Baltic ports. It’s not the type of cargo we’re used to exporting. It’s all high class- French, Italian and Spanish goods, also with many items from the Levant. The first ship should be nearing Haarlem in the next day or so. But why sell the boats, and we could have got good prices for those cargoes here, so why export it?”

“Tomorrow,” promised Anne. “How much did you get for the longboats’ cargo?”

“?327. I’ll show you the inventories of all the ships at the warehouse tomorrow. And why only ten percent?” demanded Orvin.

“You wouldn’t want to take advantage of family, would you?” queried Anne. “Now I think I hear Raedwald and Mae arriving.” In fact that couple, along with Garrett and Ellette, arrived within moments of each other and a few minutes later Betlic arrived back from school.

Brief introductions were made. Orvin explained that Raedwald owned his own cloth fulling and weaving business, while his own eldest son Garrett worked in the family trading business. “Sir Alan tells me that he’s a soldier and it appears that Anne has a certain attachment for him,” he said in a leading way.

The dinner arrived and was placed on the large table, with the guests being seated. Anne made sure she was seated next to Alan and was sharing his trencher. They started with a bowl of pheasant soup, spiced with cinnamon, ginger and grains of paradise. This was followed by spiced veal pies, pork pies with saffron, cheese and pine nuts, green peas with almond milk and mint, fried broad beans with onions, chicken, veal and bacon stew with herbs, baked veal, with a variety of pastries and tarts made with fresh berry fruit.

When Mae repeated Orvin’s comment, Anne gave a golden laugh and brushed a stray strand of auburn hair from her eyes. “Yes, he is a soldier, of sorts. He’s the lord of Thorrington Manor, not far from Wivenhoe- and of five other manors. We’ve come to work out with you what date would be convenient for you all to come to the wedding. We think that 30th of June or 7th July would be suitable.” That was news to Alan, but he didn’t demur- after all he had said the wedding should be as soon as possible.

There was immediate pandemonium as everybody began to ask questions at once.

“How long have you known him?”

“Since February the 5th to be precise. I woke up to find myself in his bed, where I stayed for two months.” She related the story of her survival of the attack, medical treatment, her return home and a heavily edited version of the attack on Wivenhoe. “So he’s saved my life twice, and is the most accomplished man I’ve met He not only reads, he even owns books. He has his own small library, in English, Latin and Greek. And his English has improved so much that now you can hardly tell he’s French.”

“Norman,” corrected Alan automatically. He’d quietly mentally drifted off into a world of his own. Hearing his own praises sung at length was not something he found interesting, although it did give him some insight into Anne and her views of him. He wasn’t sure how much was accurate and how much was for public consumption. He’d learned by now that Anne was, after all, a very complex person.

“He’s also the owner of a fleet of trading ships,” continued Anne. Orvin’s eyebrows raised at this.

“With a partner,” interjected Alan.

“Only a sleeping partner so far, and that’s only been for nine days,” said Anne. Lora’s face turned beet-red at that. “But I’m sure I’ll be able to help with that and other business matters. We all learned how to turn two pennies into three in this household. And father, the good news is that you don’t have to pay a dowry this time! I still have the old one and have built on it.”

The ladies gathered at one end of the room chattering about wedding preparations, the short time available until the chosen day. The consensus was for the 7th July, dresses and all sorts of other essential items and were gossiping freely.

The men gathered at the other end of the Hall and did what all men do in these circumstances. They drank. Alan stood with Orvin, Raedwald and Garrett. Orvin downed his glass of wine in a gulp, before filling the glasses of each of them. Alan continued to sip at his refilled glass.

“Four years in a monastery,” said Raedwald. “Why did you leave?”

“I had trouble with some of the vows. I was only an oblate, not a noviate. Chastity was the main problem. They found me with one of the young women training to be a nun. I’d had some youthful problems before then but that was the final straw. Nothing to worry about Orvin! I’m a one-woman-at-a-time man and if that was any woman but Anne I’m sure she would remove my manhood with a blunt knife! Seriously, we’re well-matched. The only problem may be that she might be too self-willed and too intelligent for me, but those are issues we have to work out. I think that after her last marriage she’d put up with pretty well anything, although in the last year or so since Aelfric died she’s certainly spread her wings.”

In a change of topic Garrett asked, “What about Hastings? Will you tell us about it?”

Alan paused and rubbed his chin in thought before replying “No, I won’t. There were 15,000 men hacking each other to pieces in an area not much bigger than a cow paddock. There were over 5,000 dead. Bodies, and pieces of bodies, lying everywhere, individually and in piles. So much blood spilled that the streams ran red. No, it’s not something I want to remember, or which should be glorified.”

“What about the battle at Wivenhoe?” urged Betlic.

Again Alan shook his head. “That’s too fresh in the mind and again too many died, many burned most horribly at my command. No! No battle stories! Despite what the warriors say, there’s no glory in battle- just blood and death and pain. If you want you can ask Anne, she was standing by me as we watched the engines at work, but I very much doubt she wants to remember the event either. Or the aftermath of caring for the dying and wounded.”

“Anne was at the battle?” demanded Orvin.

Alan smiled. “I told her to stay in the Hall. It was her village, so do you think that she would obey instructions?”

“Well, I certainly hope that she’s more happy with you than she was with Aelfric,” said Orvin. “That was the biggest mistake of my life. I was newly entitled to be seen as thegn-worthy, having just completed the required voyages. She was fourteen. Aelfric seemed suitable and held significant lands. It seemed an appropriate match.”

“You can at least be sure that I won’t physically and mentally abuse her in the way that Aelfric did. I’ve never beaten a woman yet. She’ll do well enough and be happy, as will I. She even made me pay off my leman and send her away- even before she arrived in my Hall! You’ve a remarkable daughter, not least after what she has gone through with her spirit unbroken. Now if you’ll excuse me, we’ve been in the saddle since daybreak this morning and I think that it’s time my affianced and myself retired. We’ll see you in the morning. Not too early!”

Rescuing Anne from the chattering women they walked arm in arm up the stairs to the small bed.

Next morning they rose late and, other than the servants, the house was empty. Orvin and Lora had attended the Prime service at St. Stephens Church and had still not returned home, probably visiting the house of a fellow parishioner. Being Sunday the servants expected Orvin to spend the day at home as the warehouse would be closed for the day.

“You know, being in a city with proper churches, we really also should be more observant,” suggested Anne. “It’s one thing to go to church a couple of times a week in a small village when that’s all the services there are, but here most of the churches hold four services a day.”

Alan agreed readily enough, but specified he wanted to attend the Holy Trinity Priory, just north of the city walls, and not necessarily every day as he didn’t expect to sin often enough to need absolution that frequently. He ignored Anne’s muttered comments about fornication being a sin. Dressing appropriately, well but not ostentatiously, and with Anne having her hair covered and wearing a simple dress with a high neckline, they took the short walk along Brook Street to the priory.

The paved streets were littered with refuse and they had to pick their way between piles of excrement, animal and human, and garbage thrown in the street. It had been some time since heavy rains had flushed the waste down the gutter in the centre of the road and into the river.

The town was busy with people bustling along the streets. Women were on their way to the marketplace. The poor, middling and well-to-do all went about their business. Hawkers were crying their wares from stalls and barrows in the streets, seeking to sell items as diverse as haberdashery and meat pies. Every few paces they were accosted by somebody trying to sell something. Taylors’ and dressmakers’ touts stood outside their shops trying to inveigle customers to enter. Beggars cried for alms. Children and street-urchins shouted as they ran and played. One street was nearly blocked by a crowd watching a cock-fight and noisily urging the birds on.

After passing out of the North Gate the priory bells began to ring for Sext, marking mid-day, and they quickly ascended the stairs to the chapel.

The chapel was surprisingly spacious and reasonably well attended with a congregation of about 100 present. Alan mused that they had perhaps been attracted by the benches installed for the use of the congregation, instead of the usual situation where the congregation either stood or knelt for the duration of the service.

The choir of twenty monks were already present and singing a quiet plainchant when Alan and Anne took their places on a partly empty bench near the middle of the church. The prebend was standing to one side of the nave dressed in lavish vestments while the altar-boys lit the many candles on the well-appointed altar, and afterwards lit the incense in the censer. A light cloud of sweet-smelling smoke rose into the air. The service included High Mass in Latin and was simple and moving, Alan feeling both fervour and peace as he received the sacrament, looking up at the large carved gilded wooden figure of Christ Crucified positioned above the altar as he received the Host.

As they walked back into the town Alan nodded to the guards at the gate and received a similar acknowledgement. “We should go to confession while we’re here,” he said. “I find it hard to confess anything to Brother Godwine, who is a hypocrite who probably sins more than I do. If you can find out from your mother when Confession is heard at St. Stephens I can make an appointment. After the last few months I have quite a lot to confess and it’ll take a while. It’s hardly fair to the priest to do it during the normal confessional time.”

A pot full of night-soil thrown from an upper storey window narrowly missed them and as Alan looked up in anger he stepped in a pile of rotting vegetables, afterwards trying to clean his boot on the stone of the street gutter.

On the way back to Carr Street Alan called in at the ‘Fox’s Head’ inn to ensure that his men had found accommodation and were, within reasonable limits, behaving themselves. The ‘Fox’s Head’ was a lower class inn and catered for cheorls and soldiers, with adequate but plain food and with the guests sleeping on the floor of the Commons or in the dormitory upstairs.

Arriving back at Carr Street Alan left his shoes at the door with an instruction to Rinan to arrange for their cleaning. Inside Orvin and Lora were sitting down to a relatively simple meal of soup, beef stew with herbs and fresh fruit, washed down with ale, as Sunday was the cook’s day off. After the meal Lora, as a result of her early start of attending church services, retired upstairs to her bedroom for a nap and Alan learned that she and Orvin no longer shared a bedchamber.

Orvin took them to the room he used as an office. There was a large heavy wooden chest in the corner, a large table covered in pieces of parchment, with quills and an ink-pot and a jug of wine. Four chairs were placed around the table.

“Now, I believe in keeping accounts current,” said Orvin in a businesslike manner. “?327 less ten percent is?294 and eighty pennies. Will you want it in cash? One of the problems of trade in England is the only currency is pennies, and 70,640 pennies are a real nuisance to transport- you’ll need a wagon. I can arrange French gold marks if you prefer, but I get charged a half-percent discount by my money-man. Or I can arrange payment through the Jews.”

“Payment through the Jews? You mean you would borrow the money?” asked Alan in confusion.

“No, no! Most of my wealth is tied up in goods going from one place to another or sitting in warehouses. Cash causes problems because it’s hard to store, earns nothing while it is sitting there and is more easily stolen than say a ton of wool or cloth. I deal with several of the Jews here in Ipswich, and also in London and York, and lend them my spare cash. Where do you think they get the money to lend to gentiles? It’s from people like me. They pay me a modest rate of interest, fifteen percent a year, and charge a higher rate when they lend it out. They bear all the risks of non-payment by the borrower and the difficulty and cost of recovery if necessary. Of course you only do this with relatively small amounts such as your current amount, and usually spread it amongst several moneylenders. One of my moneylenders, Solomon, also has businesses in Colchester and London. He’s as honest as any of them- which means to say very honest. If you want some money in cash and the rest available for you to draw on whenever you need it, I can arrange that with him. That way you would only need to ride up to Colchester to pick up what money you need, or you can access your money here or in London. He also has contacts on the continent, but making money available overseas costs a five percent discount.”

“We probably only need say?50 in cash at Thorrington. If Solomon has say?50 at London,?100 at Colchester and the rest here at Ipswich, that should be adequate,” said Anne thoughtfully. “I can’t see us needing more than 1,000 shillings in cash.”

“Fine,” said Orvin. “I’ll take you to see Solomon tomorrow. He’s working today of course, but I keep the Sabbath, our Sabbath, whenever possible. Otherwise Lora gives me three kinds of hell. I’ll give Anne the names of several other Jews, so you don’t have ‘all your eggs in one basket’ if something goes wrong. Any investment, even putting the cash under the bed, carries some risk.

“Now what is this about the trading ships?” he asked as he poured each a cup of wine. Alan sipped in anticipation and was disappointed. Orvin smiled at his expression and commented, “You can’t have Bordeaux every day or you get spoiled. This is a cheap light red from Anjou.”

Anne replied, “Alan captured the longships after they had raided Colchester and had emptied the best of the items from the warehouses there. There’s no doubt that they, the trading ships and the cargo belongs to him by right of salvage- it was more than one day after they were stolen by the Danes. However, I thought it made sense to avoid potential claims by the former owners by disposing of both the ships and cargoes overseas as quickly as possible, before anybody except a few of Alan’s household knew about it.”

“That was sensible,” commented Orvin. He picked up several pieces of parchment and, not sure who to give them to, put them between Anne and Alan. “This is the inventory. May I congratulate you on your very significant wealth, assuming that the ships make harbour. This will make you one of the wealthiest merchants on the east coast. As instructed, my factors will sell the cargoes and ships, buy new ships and cargoes and choose the best crews they can, both from your existing crews and whoever else is available. There will be a substantial surplus in cash, because the items you are selling are very high-value, so you’ll need to think about what to do about that.”

After a pause he continued, “While there are always risks of pirates and storms, the best part of the shipping business is you never make less than thirty percent on the value of the cargo and there are no tithes and no geld to pay.”

“I’m not really comfortable about all this merchant business all of a sudden. I haven’t even got used to the idea of being a landowner yet! Also, you know that the nobles hate the merchant class. I can see now that it may because individually you merchants are at least as wealthy as the nobles, but have none of the responsibilities!” said Alan hesitantly.

“That’s no problem! Nobody needs to know about your business interests. You can use my business as a ‘front’ if you like. For a twenty percent commission,” replied Orvin.

“Ten,” said Anne firmly. “And I keep separate books, separate warehouses and ships. No intermixing of cargo.”

Orvin sighed at the way that his daughter was taking blatant advantage of him, and then asked, “Where do you intend to base? Ipswich is the main trading centre for the east coast between London and York.”

“Ipswich to start with, or possibly Colchester, although it’s just had its vulnerability pointed out,” replied Anne. “We may need a factor in London or at the capital at Winchester to handle some of the luxury goods.”

“I’m glad you didn’t say York. The Northerners area strange lot and still live by the Danelaw rather than the Laws of Wessex. I can see trouble brewing up there, and beyond.”

“I think I can do something about the vulnerability of our ships in and near Colchester,” said Alan thoughtfully. “Where are the ships usually attacked?”

“Usually near their home port. The people you are dealing with won’t attack your ships near their own lands, or on the way to or from, because they know that nobody would trade with them again. Ships are rarely found by pirates on the high seas. Whoever it is- the Danes, Norwegians, Irish, Flemings or French- come and seize the ships off our ports, where they are concentrated into a small area, or in particular areas such as near the Channel Islands. They leave their own trading ships alone, of course,” replied Orvin.

“The Normans don’t have a fleet. Would the merchants of Ipswich pay for a small fleet to protect the estuary area?” asked Alan.

“Why? That is what the geld is for,” replied Orvin.

“Yes, but you just said that the merchants aren’t paying any geld, other than what is levied on the city,” said Alan sarcastically.

Orvin laughed. “Yes, you’re right. I did say that. How big a fleet do you envisage?”

“I thought four or five ships.”

“I don’t think that would be enough to discourage anything more than individual pirate boats. With those numbers you’d have only one or at most two ships at sea at any time. Any organised expedition is usually five or six ships packed with Danes, and they are very good sailors and fighters. The ships you took from them you seized on land or by surprise. Coming on them on the open sea would be another matter altogether,” said Orvin discouragingly.

“I’ll perhaps have a trial run at Colchester, based at Point Clear just opposite Brightlingsea, and see if my ideas work out. I’m thinking of using a ballista and fire arrows on each of my boats. Can you find me fifty sailors who have guts and fire in them? Particularly say five men who would make good and reliable skippers?”

Orvin shrugged his scrawny shoulders and replied, “I don’t see why not. The going pay rate for a coastal sailor is half a shilling a week and a captain a shilling a week.”

“I’ll pay them twice that and provide each of them with accommodation when on shore,” said Alan.

“And I’ll need an honest warehouse overseer and a scrivener to keep the accounts,” added Anne.

Sunday was family day at the house and Garrett and Mae arrived at mid-afternoon with their three children aged from two to six, two girls and a boy. Betlic came back from playing at a friend’s house nearby. The whole group gathered in the small hall, the children playing in one corner, the women continued their talk about wedding preparations and the men sat by the window facing the street and talked politics. After a couple of cups of wine Garrett switched to ale and Alan followed suit. After a little while Anne came and sat quietly with them.

Today he was feeling less like an exhibit in a freak show and realised his prospective family were entitled to know more about their future in-law. He briefly discussed the problems of being the third son of a relatively impoverished Norman knight with little chance of advancement other than through the church, his joining the abbey at Rouen where the abbot owed his father a favour from the past and was prepared to take him without the usual payment, his studies in languages and medicine while at the abbey, subsequent expulsion and his training as a warrior, including the time at Angelo’s salle d’armes at Paris and eventual landing at Pevensey.

“Anne tells us that you are friends with King William,” commented Orvin quietly.

Alan laughed. “Hardly friends! We are acquainted and I have met him less than a dozen occasions. I saved his life at Hastings and loaned him my horse, which is the same one in your stable, so I suppose Odin is a hero of Normandy. Since then William has asked me my opinion on several issues, which he advice he’s nearly always chosen to ignore. But at least it’s good for him to hear different opinions from those of his barons. He did make me a member of the Curia Regis, his Council, but we’ve only met once since the coronation.”

“But you are a tenant-in-chief and hold directly from him, that’s quite an honour,” said Garrett.

“That’s true. It gives me considerable autonomy in that I have to answer only to one man- and to God. I can do what I feel appropriate unless the king orders me otherwise.”

“As your tenants and the thegns of the Hundred are nearly all English, and unlike most of your country-men you speak our language, you probably have a better understanding of England and the English than nearly anybody,” commented Orvin.

“Other than perhaps those Normans who have been here from the times of Edward the Confessor,” agreed Alan easily, taking another sip of beer.

“Perhaps William doesn’t understand how much some of what he is doing is antagonising the English,” continued Orvin, moving the conversation forward slowly. “The geld, what used to be called the Danegeld, was re-instituted this year for the first time since Edward abolished it in ’51. Even King Harold didn’t reintroduce it last year. And, although English lords and thegns have been permitted to keep their land, they’ve had to pay dearly for the privilege.”

“I agree with you. I advised him not to reintroduce the geld, or at least not at the former rate and particularly not in the same year that many English were being charged to pay the Heriot to redeem their land. In effect most English landholders have had to pay double and this has been beyond the capacity of many who as a result have had to take out loans. If they default on those loans then their land may be assumed by the men who loaned the money. That’s unless the lenders are Jews, of course, in which case they sell it.

“The point I tried to make in private with William is that he wasn’t king until Christmas Day and that there were legal and logical problems with claiming that any Englishman who didn’t support him from the death of the Confessor last January until the Coronation was a traitor and had to pay to redeem his lands. That also includes the Normans who came to England and were given lands in the Confessor’s reign.”

“What did he say to that?” asked Anne.

“Not much. He’s totally convinced of his right to rule coming from Edward the Confessor, not the act of conquering the country- or perhaps I should say his recognition by Pope Alexander and his anointment as God’s chosen at the Coronation. He just told me I was wrong and that he was going to do it. How much the situation may have been different had Harald Hardrada become king instead is a moot point. At least there have been no massacres, nor have the remaining members of the West Saxon royal house been pursued to exile or death, as happened after the victory of Cnut’s Danes fifty years ago. Harold Hardrada of Norway wasn’t known as ‘Hard Ruler’ for nothing- he didn’t just fine his opponents or deprive them of their land. He maimed and massacred them! If he did that to his own people, what would he have done to the English? His own people feared and hated him. The Danes thought he was the Devil incarnate!

“It’s only in recent years that England has thrown off the yoke of Danish kings and Danish earls. There are no unpredictable Vikings going and attacking the next village just because they are bored. Siward remains Archbishop, as does Aethelnoth of Canterbury, and the other Saxon clerics retain their positions. Queen Edith retains her lands, as do the earls Morcar of Northumbria, Edwin of Mercia and Waltheof- and Edgar the Aetheling. William has offered each of them his friendship.

“As to Harold’s need for money last year when he became king, I had a discussion with King Edward’s former steward, Eadnoth. The king’s income without the geld was about?5,000. Harold’s personal income as earl was?4,400. The House of Godwin’s income, excluding Harold’s as king and earl, was?4,700. The one family held nearly all the earldoms. That gave Harold an annual income of over?14,000. How much money do you need for a small fleet and 1,000 or so huscarles? ”

“Since the coronation there has been widespread replacement of English lords with those from Normandy,” interjected Garrett.

Alan pursed his lips in thought and replied, “That’s true. Harold and his brothers Leofwine and Gyrth were killed at Hastings, along with thousands of thegns and huscarles. Probably another 1,000 thegns died at Fulford and Stamford Bridge. In all, probably 200 King’s Thegns and 2,000 ordinary thegns died. Probably also 2,500 cheorls who held their own land and several bishops and abbots- which I find interesting as had I thought only the Norman clergy were martially militant!

“In the south, and here in the east, men now hold their land from Norman lords who have been appointed as tenants-in-chief, or a few from the king himself. There have been hundreds, perhaps over 1,000, Norman knights and men-at-arms appointed to vacant manors formerly held by Englishmen. But relatively few, I won’t say none, Englishmen have so far been unlawfully deprived of their land if they are still alive.

“The land of those who died has been declared forfeit and is being seized and redistributed. The English nobles who I mentioned before and many, many others still hold their lands. It looks like a massive change, but that is only because of the massive holdings of the House of Godwin have been confiscated and reallocated. The changes have nearly all been south of here- but since Essex, Suffolk and Norfolk were held by Gyrth there have been, and will be, many changes in land ownership. But those are mainly at the top rather than the middle and bottom of the landholding chain. I know that it looks different to me as a Norman than it does to you as Englishmen, but just think about how much land was in the hands of Harold, Leofwine and Gyrth and how many thegns died in such a short period.”

“You mentioned the propensity of the Vikings to fight when they become bored,” commented Orvin. “I understand that fairly early in his reign as duke, William had to introduce ‘The Truce of God’ so that the Norman villeins could at least work their fields two days a week!”

“He formalized it,” replied Alan. “The ‘Truce’ did exist before then. Normandy was a much more dangerous place before William and his barons got the lesser men fully under control. Families and nobles were always fighting amongst each other, and even now still retain the right to conduct private wars. It’s not as if armed parties of knights are roaming the land looking for somebody to kill.”

“To return to the main topic at hand, in the current absence of the king many petty nobles are abusing their position, even in Essex and Suffolk,” continued Garrett.

“Absolutely! I agree that here in East Anglia that the way that the behaviour of Earl Ralph the Staller, William the Bishop of London and Engelric the former Royal Priest, all of whom are supposed to be overseeing the process of land redemption payments, is an absolute outrage. That is something I’ll report to the king when he returns from Normandy. There is clear extortion and abuse of the system taking place which the king’s regents fitzOsbern and Odo should be stamping out. That won’t be happening just here, but everywhere, and must be stopped. Odo himself has seized Langton in Lancashire from Ramsey Abbey. Widows are being forced to marry against their will. Many English noble women are taking refuge in nunneries, not because of religious fervour but because of fear of the Normans. The same thing happened in Cnut’s day when hundreds of widows were forced to marry those Danes favoured by the king. And not every Norman or Frenchman is satisfied. Eustace of Boulogne quarrelled with William and returned to Boulogne when he was refused the position of castellan of Dover.”

“And the men of the north will be hard to convince to accept rule from the South, as they always have- even when that rule was English,” warned Orvin. “You know that Copsi was appointed earl of Northumbria north of the Tyne, a Yorkshireman instead of a member of the House of Bamburgh- who have ruled that land for centuries. Copsi even followed Tostig into exile and they say that he fought at Stamford Bridge- with the Norwegians. The Northerners would not accept rule by a man from York. Oswulf, of the House of Bamburgh, had Copsi murdered just a few weeks ago at Newburn by attacking the house in which he was feasting, and when Copsi fled Oswulf burnt down the church in which he had taken sanctuary. Those madmen up there don’t care if the rule is Saxon or Norman, they’ll oppose either. You mark my words, King William will have trouble with them, and soon.”

“He’ll only have trouble with them once,” said Alan ominously. “William has tried to reconcile English and Norman interests to date. If they, or any English, revolt he’ll visit fire and destruction on a scale that has never been seen in this land before, and what goodwill he has tried to bear the English will be gone forever.”

Anne commented, “So you are saying that, like a rape, we English should just like back, let it happen and enjoy it?” she asked with asperity.

“No,” replied Alan. “These days I probably think more like an Englishman than a Norman and have more empathy for the English that I do with the conquerors. Orvin, you commented about the insularity of the men in the Danelaw, the Mercians and the Northumbrians.

“I say that in the past first the Vikings and then Cnut took away the will for rebellion by simple fear. William is trying an approach of largess and reconciliation with the surviving nobility who could lead a revolt. He took most of the English nobles with him when he went back to Normandy in March, effectively as hostages. If that doesn’t work I’m sure he’ll try the fear approach. What the English have done over the years is to absorb the invaders into your society- usually just in time for the next round of invasions. You call yourselves the English, an amalgamation of the peoples who have come to these lands over the past several thousand years. The Welsh and Scots, and many of the Normans, still refer to you as the Saxons, because they do not see or acknowledge the people that you have become.

“I said that had Harold Hardrada successfully invaded, the changes you see now would mainly still have occurred, but with Norwegians instead of Normans. The King’s royal court would still be talking in a foreign tongue. Over the last fifty years the House of Godwin, which collaborated and cooperated with Cnut and were rewarded for that, had turned England virtually into their own demesne. When they fell, great changes had to occur. Who benefits? At the moment mainly the Normans. In the medium-term, probably many English after the Normans have all received what they see as their just reward for services rendered. What may have occurred had Harold Godwinson won at Hastings, or Harold Hardrada at Stamford Bridge, is irrelevant. The English must deal with the lost battle, Harold Godwinson’s death and the death of his two most capable brothers- three if you include Tostig who died fighting alongside the Norwegians against his own brothers- and the fact that England is occupied by invaders. There are three options. The first is to accept it and make the most of a bad situation, as you have done in the past. The Norman invasion is not as bad for your people as was that of the Vikings. That is, as Anne put it, the ‘enjoy the rape’ approach.

“Secondly, you can find an English leader who can raise the whole country, including the north, behind him. That would have to be man who is a great general to beat William, who is himself a great general. That man who would have to fight with an army largely made up of peasants, as so many of the thegns were killed last year, against an army that uses effectively the combined arms of infantry, archers and heavy cavalry. It would be an English army that would have to win and win decisively in its first battle.

“You would need a man of stature from one of the four noble families. Somebody with the capabilities of Harold Godwinson. Who do you have? Edgar the Aetheling? Edwin of Mercia? Morcar of Northumbria? Earl Waltheof? None of them have what it takes to be successful, and with the possible exception of Edgar the Aetheling, the last of the line of Edward the Confessor, who would stand a chance of getting the unconditional support of the other earls? You need a giant like a new Edmund Ironside. Instead you have midgets. A general revolt would see England laid waste with most of its men of military-age dead, with resulting famine and starvation as there would be nobody left to sow or gather the harvests, and the total replacement of all Englishmen in positions of authority.

“The third and last option would be to invite Swein Estrithson, king of Denmark, to be your king, to invade with his full army and for all the English to support him. Based on kinship to the blood-royal, Swein has a good legal claim to the throne. Not as good as the Aetheling, but as good as that of William, whose legal claim before being crowned frankly was not strong.

“Do you want a Dane on the throne of England? How would you in East Anglia feel about having Danish overlords after the way that they have been raiding your shores and killing your people for years? That assumes that Swein is both interested in putting his full might behind an invasion, which would leave his homeland open to attack and invasion by the Norwegians, Swedes, Germans and Flemings. Swein is neither a good king nor a good general. He has enough trouble keeping his own people in order in his own country and would stand no chance of controlling them in England. The excellent administration system built up by Edward’s predecessors would fall apart in months. And Swein, like the remaining English earls, has never fought and won a major battle. William is the best general in Europe. He beat the second-best general at Hastings.

“And don’t forget the religious aspect. Pope Alexander has decreed that William is the true king of England. The pope’s personal banner flown at Hastings was worth at least 1,000 extra men for the encouragement it gave the Norman forces and the discouragement it gave the English. William has been anointed with Holy Oil and crowned king by the Archbishop of York. How many fyrdmen and thegns would hold back from a future revolt due to religious convictions?

“No, I’m sorry to say from the English point of view your best option is to be raped and take the long-term view.”

“So we should just shut up and be thankful for small mercies?” asked Anne with some asperity. “Next you’ll be saying that having Norman lords is better for us English than having our own nobles!”

“Not at all! Obviously it would have been better for both the Anglo-Saxons and Anglo-Danes if nobody had invaded last year and you had simply been left in peace. Probably having Norwegians as overlords would have been better for the locals, as they’d be assimilated into your society more quickly and wouldn’t try to make changes. All I’m saying is that what is done, is done. The English either need to live with the result or be unexpectedly successful in a revolt.”

“And any war is bad for business,” commented Orvin sourly, not having enjoyed hearing the long but logical presentation of the argument he had just heard. “It’s a pity that the yoke we are under feels like a noose and so much abuse is happening in the king’s absence.”

“Now that is something that I may be able to do something about, if I am now as wealthy as you say. I’ve met both fitzOsbern and Odo of Bayeux. Both are capable enough and at least fitzOsbern is reasonably honest. FitzOsbern is being kept busy by the fighting in Herefordshire with the Welsh invading and attacking and laying waste to the shire, and the raiding by the Irish being led by Harold’s bastard sons. Odo, who I have already said has his own snout in the trough, has his troubles with disturbances in Kent- not an uprising but a lot of friction, including use of arms, between the English and the Normans. That conflict is mainly the Normans’ fault for overstepping what’s reasonable, particularly Richard fitzScrob.

“Both fitzOsbern and Odo are too powerful to be susceptible to anything I can do or say, but a gentle reminder from me that the king will be returning later in the year may help. I probably can’t do much about Earl Ralph the Staller either, but I can try as he and I probably have equal influence with King William. After all, Ralph is a hang-over from Edward’s regime, being half Breton and half English. I may be able to influence William the Bishop of London, who is a Norman invited over to England by Edward the Confessor, and Engelric.

“The main problem at the moment is the abuses in the Heriot land redemption payments being made by the English. I’ll discuss the problem with the sheriffs of Essex and Suffolk, although they are probably in on the caper as well. What I am going to need are written depositions from Essex and Suffolk listing every abuse of power since the Heriot started until whenever the king returns, which will probably be November. At least, as a result of the Danish raid, the thegns in my own Hundred have the coin to pay both the Heriot and the geld this year. Orvin, do you have the contacts to arrange this documentation in Suffolk and Norfolk?”

“I know the people who can arrange it,” said Orvin with considerable enthusiasm. “I can send the information in dispatches. When will you start?”

“I’ll see the sheriff here in Ipswich before we leave. Can you obtain four or five depositions of malpractice by Friday, and can I borrow a scribe for the sake of appearances? I’ll attend to Essex after the wedding. On consideration, we’d better have Solomon transfer the money I was going to leave here in Ipswich to Colchester, so I can use it to lend to thegns who are being extorted in Essex.”

Garrett queried the reason for the speed of the marriage arrangements, “After all, if you have only been sleeping together for ten days you can hardly have got her pregnant yet!”

Alan demurred, looking at Anne and saying, “I’m sorry, that is something between my lady and myself. If you want to know that, it would be up to her to tell you and I doubt she will.” Anne smiled and shook her head.

Orvin suggested that in the circumstances that it might be best if the earlier wedding date of 30th June was chosen, to remove one of the few areas of vulnerability of Alan and Anne. The marrying of an English heiresses, while not actually forbidden, was strongly discouraged and required the consent of both lords, mainly to discourage the widows from exercising free choice as Anne intended to do. “Now if you gentlemen will give me leave, I must visit the privy after all that beer I’ve been drinking,” said Alan excusing himself for the night.

Next day being a Monday the small church of St Stephen held only the Sext service at noon, with a brief Mass being said. Orvin kept his word and took Alan and Anne to the Jewish Quarter early in the morning to see Solomon.

Alan was very impressed with the usurer, who was the antithesis of everything he had thought he knew of Jews. The man was small, plump and bald, despite being only about thirty years of age. He spoke fluent English, Latin and formal French, as well of course as Hebrew, and claimed some ability in Danish, Norwegian and Flemish. He was polite, well-spoken, literate and urbane, with an excellent grasp of current affairs and politics. He efficiently receipted and sealed the transfer of funds from Orvin’s account to that of Alan. Anne insisted that given her current uncertain legal status the account should not bear her name even as partner. Alan gave written instructions that in the event of his death the account balance was to become owned by Anne, effective immediately.

Then they returned to Carr Street to change for church. Orvin, Lora and Anne took confession as usual before the service. Alan arranged to meet the priest, Father Aella after the service, while Orvin escorted Lora and Anne home.

Father Aella was a tall spare man of about forty years of age. He took Alan through to his study in the rectory. “What can I do for you my son?” he asked the younger man.

“Father, it is nine months since I last confessed,” said Alan in a troubled voice.

“It’s nine months since you took Mass?”

“No, Father, that’s not the same thing. I took Mass unconfessed,” replied Alan.

“Obviously you know that is in itself a sin,” said Father Aella conversationally. “Why?”

“I suppose because taking Mass is a habit, and I have not confessed because of my sins.”

“Well, that’s one sin you have confessed. Shall we deal with the others?”

“I have killed. Killed many men.”

“In the course of war, when they were attacking you?”

“Mainly. Many at Hastings during the battle. There was one I killed on Christmas Day outside where the king was being crowned, to make a point and establish my authority when he defied me. That was done for what I saw as being a good purpose, to have the houses being set on fire extinguished, and he was preventing me from doing that. Three men who were robbers who myself and my party caught in the act of killing, robbing and ravishing. In battle recently were hundreds who did not die by my hand, but on my orders- and died most horribly and painfully. That was defending a village from being pillaged by the Danes. Others I have had judicially put to death because of their crimes. These all weigh on my mind. And I have stolen, stolen from the dead at Hastings- but not the dying, nor did I hasten the death of any of the wounded for the purposes of robbery.”

“You were poor then? I thought so. But by your appearance you are not now poor? You now have your own lands somewhere else, as I have not seen you before? If you don’t mind me saying so, such sins are not unusual for men who have called to be soldiers. Have you raped? No? Killed wantonly or stolen from the poor? No? Fornicated? Yes? Well that’s again not an unusual sin for any man,” continued the priest.

“I kept a mistress for five months, had carnal knowledge of several women while on campaign and I am now cohabiting with the woman I am due to wed in several weeks time. That last is one thing I do not intend to seek absolution for, as I intend to continue with that sin!” continued Alan.

Father Aella smiled slightly, without saying anything on this point as he’d heard the other side of the position in confession a little earlier in the day. “And has anything good come from your actions?”

“From the thefts, yes. I used the money I obtained to buy the weapons I needed to equip my own men, who later fought to save a village and to destroy a raiding party of Danes. By killing the Danes we saved dozens of lives in that village and rescued hundreds of English that they had taken as captives. By killing the robbers I saved two women from death, including the woman I now love. I have become moderately wealthy and can now help others,” said Alan thoughtfully. “The judicial killings I don’t really count as I was in effect acting as Caesar and imposing the penalties that law of the land provides, with little choice.”

“So good has come from bad, and nothing you have said is anything I would say to be evil or to endanger your immortal soul. But obviously they weigh heavily on you, more so than on any other soldier I have met, who I must say seem to be a fairly hardened lot. Why is that and why have you not felt able to be confessed by your parish priest?” asked Father Aella gently.

“I know that the Holy Bible states we must not judge others, but Brother Godwine is a nearly illiterate country priest who keeps his own mistress and probably helped my former steward steal from me. More particularly, he’s lazy and fails to provide properly for the spiritual needs of his congregation. The benefice is within my giving but I haven’t had the chance to seek a more suitable candidate,” said Alan with a frown on his brow. “As to the first part of your question, perhaps I’m not really cut out to be a soldier. I was an oblate at a monastery for several years.”

“Hmm… perhaps a warrior-priest, and by that I don’t mean in the manner of Bishop Odo! And given how busy you seem to have been committing what you think of as sins I’m not surprised that you haven’t had time to seek a more suitable priest. I think I know of a man at the priory who may be suitable as a parish priest, but whether he would consent to accept a benefice in a small country village I don’t know. Certainly he’s quite wasted doing menial work at the priory and could better do God’s work out in the community. He’s about thirty, intellectual, compassionate and warm, practical and something of an ascetic. You would be able to discuss matters of faith and theological interpretation with him- he’s much more knowledgeable than I! His name is Brother Wacian and he’s a minor assistant in the infirmary. If we go up to the priory now they’ll probably still be serving food at the refectory when we get there and then I can introduce you.

“What we seem to have is a Crisis of Faith, in that you feel overwhelmed by sin and believe that this means that you are damned to hell for all eternity. We British, including the clergy, are not as strict in our interpretations as the clerics of France. You speak in an educated manner. You say you were an oblate at a monastery?”

“Yes, at Rouen for several years before it was decided that my path lay outside the clergy. I wasn’t sufficiently devout in the observation of my duties and left before taking vows; to be more precise I was expelled.”

Father Aella gave a chuckle. “Rouen is known for the strictness of its interpretation of the scriptures. As a brief history lesson, the church here in Britain was founded by monks from Ireland, where the Faith had flourished during the Dark Times. The Blessed Columba founded the monastery at Iona in the Scottish Isles and preached Christianity to the Picts. Saint Aidan was from Ireland and established the monastery at Lindisfarne, and Saint Wilfred studied at Lindisfarne and brought the Word south to Sussex. Pope Gregory sent Saint Augustine to Canterbury, but the British clergy refused to assist him or to acknowledge his claim of supremacy over them. There was dispute between those clerics who followed the Irish rites and those who followed the Latin rites. The hand of Rome still rests lightly on her church in Britain- much more lightly than Pope Alexander would wish! Most of the bishops in Britain barely acknowledge the supremacy of the papacy.

“The position of many of the church here in Britain on the issue of sexual congress is different to that adopted in France and Italy. As you will be aware many of our clergy, including anointed priests, are married. The Ten Commandments contain no denunciation of sexual activity other than that of adultery, which you haven’t committed. The Blessed Saint Paul in his Epistles to the Corinthians wrote in Greek. He denounces fornication as a sin, and used the Greek word ‘porneia’. That word means ‘illegal sex’ or ‘illicit sex’, and usually refers to incest, bestiality and adultery. By our own mores that would now include homosexuality.

“God created the human body and made sexual congress between man and woman a pleasurable activity; he would not then be so ungenerous as to use that as a trap to damn mankind to everlasting torment in hell. The scriptures instruct man to ‘go forth and multiply’ and to marry. In addition to adultery and illegal sex, casual sex for the purpose of simple bodily pleasure is sinful. Sexual congress between a man and a woman in a committed monogamous relationship for the purpose of begetting children and with the intent that the act makes the couple one both in body and in spirit is blessed, although the formalities of marriage are preferable.

“Taking a mistress to assuage your lust was sinful, as was any other casual carnal relations you may have had. A joining with a woman on a permanent basis is not sinful, even though in the absence of the marriage rites it may be slightly premature. Do you know the Anglo-Saxon civil law regarding unlawful sexual activity?” Alan nodded in reply. “Then you know that the plaint must be brought by the man who claims to ‘own’ the woman and who claims to have suffered loss by her unavailability. The penalty is payment of bot or compensation to that man. Not even a fine.

“Even fornication with a nun brings a penalty of payment of bot to the bishop and diocese who have lost her service when she is driven out for breach of her vows! I would not condemn your priest who has taken a woman as a mistress, if he intends to have that as a permanent relationship and does not do so merely out of lust. When he was ordained he is unlikely to have taken a vow of chastity. Where I see the fault is in him treating this in a surreptitious manner and not giving her the respect that she deserves as his spouse. Brother Godwine may well have wished to marry the woman and formalise her position, but to do that he would require the permission of his bishop. You are from south of here? Then his bishop will be William, Bishop of London, who is a Norman appointed by Edward and who holds to the belief that clergy must be unmarried and celibate. If he sought approval for marriage it would certainly be refused. In those circumstances Brother Godwine may have deemed it better not to ask!

“But as you have sinned we must determine your penance. As I have said I do not view your sinning as great. I would give you as penance the requirement to provide something of spiritual value to your parish. I will leave what that is to you, as you will know its needs better than I. Now, let us away to the priory!”

They walked quickly up Brook Street and when they reached Carr Street Alan asked Father Aella to wait for a moment as he hurried to Orvin’s house to get a rolled parchment from his room before returning quickly to the waiting Father Aella.

They entered the priory refectory just as the monks were starting to clear the meal away, and each obtained a plate of tough roasted meat, gravy and vegetables, fresh rye bread and cheese, which they ate at a bare scrubbed wooden table, before Father Aella took Alan to the infirmary. To some extent it was like a home-coming to Alan, reminding him of his time in Rouen.

They asked the Infirmarer for permission to speak to Brother Wacian and went outside to sit on a bench in the courtyard to talk. It transpired that, while Brother Wacian was happy in his relatively minor position at the infirmary, the prospect of working to serve the spiritual needs of a parish fired him with enthusiasm. He seemed amased at the size of the benefice he would receive and the priest’s share of the village land. In their half-hour conversation Alan questioned him closely and was satisfied that the Englishman would make a suitable rector for the parish. Father Aella and Alan then met with the prior to make the necessary arrangements, before Alan asked Father Aella to take him to the library and introduce him to Brother Eadward the librarian. After performing that duty Father Aella departed.

Alan discussed with Brother Eadward the arrangement he had with Brother Leanian, the librarian at St Botolph’s Priory at Colchester, and showed him the parchment that comprised the inventory of the library at Colchester, which Brother Eadward promised to have copied and returned to him next day. Although the priory held no copies of Hippocrates’ Corpus, it did hold several books on Brother Leanian’s wanted list and Brother Eadward undertook to correspond with Colchester to arrange a suitable exchange.

Part of the priory’s income came from copying books and one of its main stock items was a series of Bibles of varying degrees of workmanship. Alan arranged to purchase an illuminated and well-written English copy of the Bible to take with him at the end of the week in return for a payment of thirty shillings, and which he intended to give to the parish at Thorrington as his penance.

The priory bells were ringing the mid-afternoon service of Nones as Alan, feeling happy with the various outcomes of the day, arrived back at Carr Street.

Wednesday was the day of the monthly Horse Market at Ipswich, held on the Common to the south-west of the city. Alan had to insist to Anne that she join him, as she was still quite annoyed with him at his choosing the new parish priest without involving her in the discussions. She wasn’t concerned about the qualities of Brother Wacian, nor did she disagree with Alan that no priest could be much worse that Brother Godwine, but it was a matter of principal and she was not pleased with her betrothed.

They arrived quite early as the priory bells were ringing for Prime, the official starting time for the market. A small tent had been set up for the official who collected fees from the sellers and a larger marquee where a local brewer was setting up a refreshment stall with tables and chairs. There were only a few hawkers about as the Horse Market tended to be a business event, not one that attracted crowds for amusement.

“Now the first thing you must learn at a horse market is to look down when you are walking,” said Alan, only half in jest as the Common was already receiving fertiliser from the horses. Being an English market there were no destriers for sale, and few enough horses big and swift enough to qualify for the name ‘chargers’. Most were rounceys, the multi-purpose horse, or draught horses.

Alan examined the horses closely, there being perhaps 100 on offer that day, and pointed out to Anne the various traits that made a good riding horse or a pack horse. He paid particular attention in teaching her what made a good war-horse, most of the traits of which were completely at odds with what made a good comfortable riding horse. “Strength and good form with good body shape. Able to carry a man and forty pounds of armour and march all day, and charge repeatedly after that. Spirit and intelligence. It has to be taught to ignore the noise and distraction of battle. Some nastiness of temperament is good too- just look at Odin- but enough tractability that a good rider can control it.”

“Stallion, mare or gelding?” asked Anne, interested despite herself, and knowing that someday she may need to buy warhorses on behalf of the manor.

“Generally it doesn’t matter too much. I’d probably prefer to use stallions or geldings on campaign, as mares tend to cause distraction in the early springtime when they’re on heat. Mares can be just as evil-tempered as stallions,” concluded Alan with a sideward look at Anne, who gave him in return a brief look of part amusement and part annoyance to show that she had understood the insinuation.

In the end they chose eleven horses, Alan insisting with several that Anne make the choice, although he steered her with his body language and a few comments. Each horse was carefully examined from teeth to hooves. Only horses fully adult, at least three years old, were of interest. After inspection each was first led by the vendor while Alan and Anne watched, and then ridden by Alan along the track by the river that had been left vacant for that purpose. All the animals selected were large, strong, quick, intelligent and moved easily- although most were barely large enough to qualify for the name ‘charger’. Six were mares that Alan intended to add to the breeding program at the stud at Ramsey.

Buying eleven horses takes time and it was after Nones by the time they had finished. After paying the earnest-money deposit for each horse they arrived back at Carr Street tired and smelly, for despite Alan’s warning they hadn’t always watched where they were putting their feet. Orvin arrived soon afterwards, while they were still dressing after bathing, and took them out to visit another Jewish usurer named Aaron. Like Solomon Aaron also had business in Colchester and they made financial arrangements with him for when further money became available. Both Orvin and Aaron provided the names of several trustworthy usurers in London and Aaron wrote out a letter of introduction in Hebrew.

Early on Friday Alan sent a messenger to the castle seeking an afternoon appointment to see Roger Bigod, the Shire Sheriff, who Alan knew to be in the city. Orvin’s contacts and scribe had performed as hoped, and when Alan walked into the castle’s Hall accompanied by Orvin’s scribe Cynefrid he carried six rolled-up depositions of complaint.

Roger Bigod was about ten years older than Alan and had been a quite undistinguished knight in Normandy before the invasion. Afterwards William had granted him land in Suffolk and appointed him its sheriff. Both men were of similar status, both tenants-in-chief holding directly from the king but both with relatively modest estates. Alan was a member of the King’s Council and Roger was not, but as sheriff he also had the ear of the king. Of stocky build and with short dark hair he rose and clasped arms with Alan as he entered and offered him a cup of watered wine.

On being introduced to Cynefrid he asked if he needed his own scribe present and Alan suggested that it would be a good idea. Roger roared out to the guard standing on the other side of the closed door of the office “Send for Jocelin!” and chatted amiably until the clerk arrived. “Now what’s this all about?” he demanded. “You’re a fair way out of your own lands here.”

“We are both officers of the king here in East Anglia,” said Alan with slight exaggeration. “You know that King William has decreed that all Englishmen, and that includes those Normans and French living in England at the time of Hastings, have to pay to redeem their land.”

Roger nodded abruptly and said, “And I understand that you spoke against that.”

Alan made an acquiescing motion with his right hand and said, “True, but that’s of no matter. The king made his decree and it is law and we’re all required to uphold that. King William of course left these shores in March, leaving the governance of the land to his relatives William fitzOsbern and Odo of Bayeux. The Relief is, along with the quarterly collection of the geld, currently the most important financial activity in the kingdom. Collection of the geld is in the hands of the sheriffs such as yourself. You all have to account for each penny collected.

“As to the Heriot Relief, here in East Anglia responsibility to administer the charge lies with Earl Ralph the Staller, William the Bishop of London and Engelric the former Royal Priest. As it requires no fixed amount and gives some discretion, the Relief is open to abuse. I have heard many stories of sharp practice and abuse either by those three officers or their servants and I’ve recently started to investigate the accuracy of these stories in Essex. I have been here in Ipswich since Saturday, in that time I have been sought out and presented with six depositions detailing threats, extortionate Relief demands, demands for immediate payment or immediate forfeiture of land. In one case there was a demand that a comely daughter of a wealthy man must marry a particular Norman knight or the father will not be offered Relief of his land. I understand that the marriage is due a week tomorrow and that the maid, who is thirteen, does not consent but is being made to wed against her will.

“These are no doubt just a few of many instances of abuse in East Anglia. King William has ordered the Relief, but these abuses will not be tolerable to him or any moral-minded man such as yourself. It appears that fitzOsbern and Odo are too busy with the problems in their own areas of responsibility to keep a proper eye on the situation and that these three royal officers are either involved in the abuse or are incompetent in their supervision of their minions. The sheriffs are responsible for the maintenance of the law in their shires, so it’s not open for them to say that responsibility lies elsewhere.”

“You have spoken to fitzWymarc about this?” demanded Bigod.

“Not as yet. As you said, I’m out of my jurisdiction here, on personal business. I wished to raise the matter with you privately before it’s raised officially, so you can take such action as you think fit. I suggest that forbidding the marriage referred to in the deposition with the red ribbon would be a good start. Raising the other issues with the officers referred to in the depositions would be sensible and protect your own position. I do, of course, have attested copies of the depositions. You may like to pass the word around the shire that you would be prepared to accept and investigate further depositions.”

“You intend to make an issue of this with the king and the Council? Why? You won’t make yourself any friends amongst the people who count, including the king,” queried Bigod.

“Because it needs to be done and I’m not worried about upsetting those responsible for the Reliefs- or those that they have been involving or bribing. I have no political ambitions.”

Bigod stroked his chin reflectively. He privately conceded the truth of what Alan had said, and indeed had received some benefit himself. However, to do nothing risked losing the important and lucrative position of sheriff. “Jocelin, take the depositions, go through them and give me the details. Alan, I take it you intend to discuss these matters with Bishop William, Earl Ralph and Engelric?” said Bigod.

“Certainly, as soon as I meet with them. I have my own schedule and I don’t intend to run all over three shires chasing them. I’ll probably see them in London in a few months. If you want to advise them of our discussion and my investigations, please feel free. I’ll appoint a food taster and I already have bodyguards! There are six men waiting for me in the guardroom at the moment at escort me to my lodgings. I’m sure that if something happens to me before he returns, King William will not be happy- particularly when he still receives the depositions. I’m sure that all we Officers of the King will all act in the best interests of the king and the kingdom.”

Back at Carr Street Alan advised Orvin and the others the gist of what had been discussed and made arrangements to leave the following morning, with four guards staying at Orvin’s house for the night.

“I’m so proud of you, doing something to help the English thegns,” said Anne softly as they lay in bed that night.

“I just hope that we don’t both come to regret it,” said Alan feeling a little despondent.

Next morning, Saturday 16th June, accompanied by Brother Wacian, they rode out of the city as soon as the gates opened at dawn, Alan and each of the escort was wearing full armour, helmets placed on the saddle pommels, and most of the men were leading either the pack-horses or the newly purchased horses. Brother Wacian had met them at the gate, looked surprised at Anne’s riding attire and gratefully accepting the offer of the use of one of the horses. Alan and Anne rode at the head of the group as usual, but this time with their saddlebags filled with silver. When they were a dozen miles out of Ipswich Alan ordered a halt and allowed his men to remove their heavy armour. While they did so the horses cropped the grass, Odin standing close to Anne’s palfrey Misty and nuzzling her shoulder occasionally.

It was only when they crossed the River Stour and rode into Manningtree and Tendring Hundred that Alan felt safe. The weather had changed around mid-day, becoming cooler and overcast, before light showers set in and caused the riders to pause and rummage through their baggage for their cloaks to keep the rain off. Alan checked the oiled canvas covering on the parchments and books to ensure they were being kept safe and dry. They arrived at Thorrington in the mid-afternoon, to a tumultuous reception by Anne’s hounds and a genuinely warm welcome from the servants.

Alan introduced Brother Wacian to Osmund and Faran. Deciding that there was no use in delaying unpleasant matters he summoned Brother Godwine, advised him of the immediate termination of his benefice as rector of Thorrington Parish, paid him a month’s salary and asked him and his mistress to vacate the rectory within the week.

Brother Godwine was stunned, demanding to know the reason for his dismissal and was clearly disbelieving when Alan replied, “Because you are neither fit nor capable of dealing with the spiritual needs of the community. You’re too busy looking after your own interests and just too damn lazy.” It was telling that, so self-absorbed was Brother Godwine in his sudden fall from grace, that he never asked who was to conduct the Mass due be heard the following day. When Brother Godwine departed from the Hall he was still declaiming loudly that he had performed his duties well, bemoaning his fate and asking what would be his future.

It was two weeks to the day to the wedding day and Anne was determined not to waste a moment of preparation. She sent a message asking for Rheda her cook from Wivenhoe, Wybert her Steward, and most importantly Father Ator who would be the celebrant, to call on her the following morning.

Hugh met with Alan and advised him that he had been able to buy 8 chargers and 10 rounceys at the Colchester livestock market and that he’d recruited 36 peasants who had volunteered to become full-time soldiers, about half of whom could already ride. The 20 most capable were being trained to fight on horseback, including controlling a warhorse with just the use of the knees to allow the free use of both hands. All were being taught how to use a sword and swordsmanship, which were not the same thing as the latter included footwork and offensive and defensive patterns.

Hugh had also found 23 trained but now unemployed huscarles, mainly from Lexden, Winstree and Thurstable Hundreds where thegns who were struggling to meet their Heriot and taxation liabilities had been unable to keep their retainers. Some claimed to have fought at Hastings, others to have left for the battlefield but arrived too late and some that their thegns had never received the call to muster from Earl Gyrth. Hugh was concerned about the seemingly huge amount of money that Alan was incurring to recruit and train soldiers, being aware that most knights with modest manors such as that of Alan were usually not wealthy. Alan set Sunday afternoon aside to interview the huscarles.

Roger reported that training of the 30 fyrd bowmen, 10 each from Wivenhoe, Alresford and Ramsey was progressing well. The men were in the main hunters and knew how to use a bow and only required to be trained to follow instructions to act as a unit and to shoot rapid volleys. Warren had taken over command of Alan’s current force of 20 bowmen, all of whom were local peasants and lived in the village, while Roger was attending to the training of the new recruits.

The next morning Anne spent mainly closeted with Rheda, Otha the Thorrington Cook, Father Ator, her various maids and some of the wives of the local thegns. Alan had announced the betrothal and wedding day at dinner the evening before and the Hall and village were abuzz with the news.

Alan, Faran and Osmund spent the morning going over the books, with Osmund reporting which thegns and peasants- cheorls, sokeman, cottars and other freemen- were behind in their payments of money, goods or labour, with Faran making mental notes as to which he needed to visit to discuss their obligations. The next Quarter Day, Mid-Summer’s Day, was one week away and Osmund was concerned that Alan should be in a position to pay his own taxes and tithes when they fell due that day, being one quarter of the annual rental for this and the other manors Alan held in the Hundred, and the money due for Wivenhoe.

A little before noon they changed into their good clothes and led the throng of servants and soldiers from the Hall towards the small wooden church at the edge of the village. Most wore cloaks to protect them from the thin drizzle still falling and the cold wind. There were many of the green cloaks that Alan had chosen as uniform for his mounted men-at-arms. All the village had heard one of several variations of Godwine’s removal and were agog at the news and that Alan had taken the stance that he had. Many had sympathy for Godwine, although virtually everybody admitted his shortcomings in the performance of his pastoral duties.

The small church was already full to overflowing as every member of Thorrington and the surrounding villages appeared to have come to see and form an opinion of the new priest. As those from the Hall joined the congregation outside the church, those inside began to file out, calling out that the service would be heard on the village green around which the houses and other buildings had been built. Moments later some men set up a trestle table which one of the elderly women of the village draped with a white cloth and placed the polished brass cross and the chalice, pyx and ciborium in place.

Shortly afterwards Brother Wacian appeared in a spotless white surplice and red stole, accompanied by one of the local boys dressed in a white cassock, who had apparently been pressed into the position of altar-boy.

As Brother Wacian stood before the altar the congregation crowded closer to see the tall and sparely-built priest. His knowledgeable and serious demeanour and clean clothing, both so different from that of Brother Godwine, gave the congregation an immediate positive reaction to him.

“Welcome, friends!” he said in a calm but well-projected voice that easily reached those at the back of the crowd. “Given the numbers attending today’s service, and not believing in turning any away from worship, I have decided that we will celebrate Mass under God’s good sky- although He seems to want to test our faith a little this morning! That matters not and let us now commence. Given the wet grass that you’re standing on, you are to remain standing and not kneel, other than when receiving the Host.”

He named a well-known English hymn to commence the service and began to sing in a strong and deep voice with the congregation joining in immediately. Because of the rain he had not brought out the Book of Services nor the Bible for the readings, which he handled himself rather than on this occasion asking any of the congregation to assist.

By his faultless performance he clearly needed no written reference materials and knew both the service and the two Bible passages word-perfect. His homily was on Change and Duty. By this time he was soaked through, with his hair plastered to his head and water dripping from his chin, as indeed were most of the congregation, but Brother Wacian injected a sense of warmth and freshness into the service that all the congregation knew so well.

As he dispensed the Host he invited all forward, even the meanest cottar or slave, and he distributed to each person with an intenseness and passion that made each feel that the service had been put on for their own benefit. Before he gave the parting benediction he gave a brief address on how pleased he was to have joined the parish, that his door was always open to all and they should seek his assistance if troubled. He also announced that confessions would be held from Prime, with two Sunday Services at Terce and Sext, to hopefully avoid future overcrowding.

There would also be a midweek service on Wednesdays at sunset, and Brother Wacian stressed that those attending the Wednesday Mass “Should not hesitate to attend in working clothes as Mass is an occasion for private devotion, prayer and reconciliation with God, not a social occasion. I recognise that many work dawn to dark and will do so particularly during the busy seasons of sowing and harvest.”

Those who were ill and unable to attend Church were urged to contact him to arrange confessions and Mass in their own homes. He also advised that he had some medical skills that, such as they were, he was prepared to make available to all. With the exception of the final Blessing, the whole service, taking nearly an hour, was conducted in English and in the rain. The congregation dispersed and headed in their various directions.

Alan asked Osmund to slip into the village tavern for an hour or so to listen to the local judgment on the new priest, although he was certain that after today’s performance and the cleric’s obvious devotion and love of his calling that the conclusion would be favourable.

After towelling themselves dry and changing their clothes Anne and Alan proceeded to the Hall where ample but simple viands washed down with ale were available, as after all the kitchen staff had also needed to attend Mass.

After the mid-day meal Alan began to interview the huscarles, with Hugh and (at Alan’s request) Anne sitting in on the first interview. This was of a man called Brand, a massive man who towered well over Alan’s six foot height, about thirty-five years of age with long blond hair tied back in a ponytail, a flowing moustache and clean-shaved chin. He was clearly an intelligent man and had a self-confident, almost arrogant, manner. Hugh had described him to Alan as a potential leader of the huscarles. The interviews were being conducted at the high table in the Hall, with the other huscarles awaiting their turn sitting at tables at the far end of the Hall, a few sipping from pint pitchers of ale.

“So, Brand, where are you from?” began Alan.

“Tollesbury in Thurstable Hundred, held by Guthmund, an average sized holding of nearly five hides, pasture and a salthouse. Guthmund had in service myself and Ranulf,’’ here Brand nodded his head towards a table of waiting men. “The holding is assessed at thirty shillings.” Here Alan inclined his head in acknowledgement of Brand’s point. Ten shillings was the normal geld for the average village of five or so hides. “He’s just had to pay?5 to Bishop William of London for his Heriot and next week has to pay his Quarter Day taxes, so he told us that he could no longer afford to retain us, what with the re-introduction of the geld. I’d been there ten years. Before then I was a cheorl at Goldhanger, which was nearby, but I decided the rustic life didn’t suit me.”

“What experience do you have in battle?” asked Alan.

“A number of small skirmishes with neighbours or footpads over the years. Siward used us mainly as his personal guards when he was travelling. Then at Hastings, that was my first real battle.”

“It was for most of us,” replied Alan. “When did you arrive?”

“The night before. I was on the right flank. Not in the first rank, the shield-wall, of course. The Royal Huscarles occupied that position. I was in the second rank. The unarmoured fyrdmen with their swords and pitchforks were behind us, eight deep. Where were you?”

“In the centre, with Geoffrey de Mandeville’s cavalry,” replied Alan. “It was us who broke up the counter-attack when the Bretons broke. Tell me, why did the English right flank attack at such at early time, surely you could see that you were flanked?” asked Alan.

Brand shrugged. “We’d been standing receiving a hail of arrows and crossbow bolts for nearly an hour and then battling the Breton infantry. They were good fighters who knew their trade well. Those behind the front rank were impatient to get at them and when the Bretons broke and disorganized their cavalry behind them, Earl Leofwine ordered a general attack on that flank to try to route them completely. Unfortunately, it appears that King Harold disagreed and provided no support with an attack on the centre. Your cavalry smashed us from our left flank. Ranulf and I were amongst the survivors who got back to the shield-wall. As you know, many didn’t.”

“When did you leave the battlefield?” asked Hugh.

“It was after dark. King Harold had fallen. The shield-wall had shrunk, reducing its length. The Royal Huscarles still insisted on forming the front rank and wouldn’t allow the thegns or other huscarles to maintain the line or to relieve them. They seemed to think they were invincible and wanted to do it all.” He paused for a moment and then continued, “Your archers were more effective later in the day, but mainly in shooting down the unarmoured fyrdmen in the rear ranks. When your cavalry managed to take part of the ridge on our extreme right and began to roll up the shield-wall Ranulf and I decided that it was time to leave. Harold, Leofwine and Gyrth were all dead by then and nobody was in charge. The Normans had about reached the middle of the ridge when we called it a day and ran like hares. King Harold had kept no men as reinforcements and had put everybody in the line.”

“Neither did King William,” commented Alan. “Apart from the Royal Huscarles in the front rank, how was the army organised?”

“Poorly. Men arrived the night before and chose their own position on the line, the men from different Hundreds and Shires were all mixed together. There was little effective control during the battle, but I suppose if you have 7,000 men all jammed together and all on foot, with the men all mixed together and not knowing each other, it would have been nearly impossible other than to say ‘Stand’, ‘Attack’ or ‘Retreat’.”

“What did you learn from the battle?” asked Alan.

Brand smiled wryly. “Firstly, never attack with enemy cavalry on an unsupported flank.” He paused in reflection for several minutes before continuing, “Proper organisation of your men. Keeping a reserve of men against the contingencies of battle. Don’t over-crowd the battlefield. The value of archers and cavalry, particularly when the horsemen have room to manoeuvre. The problems in using part-time and poorly trained and badly equipped infantry in a battle. What did you learn?”

“The value of discipline and training, and bowmen. The difficulty in breaking a shield-wall held by spearmen when you have no room for manoeuvre. The skill and bravery of English warriors. And to fear the man who uses the two-handed Danish battle-axe,” replied Alan.

“That’s my weapon,” said Brand proudly.

“You have your own armour and arms?” asked Hugh. Brand nodded.

Alan looked at first Hugh and then Anne. Both gave a nod, confirming Alan’s own opinion. But Alan was not yet finished.

“How do you feel entering the household of a Frenchman? You will know our custom. You swear fealty to me personally and you’re expected to carry out all orders I give. Can you do that for a Norman lord? Could you fight in a Norman army against an army of English or Danes?”

Brand paused to collect his thoughts into the correct words. “I’ve been asking myself that same question ever since I heard that a Norman man-at-arms was going through Lexden, Winstree and Thurstable Hundreds seeking men. I’ve not been impressed with most of the Frenchmen I’ve met who’ve come to Essex in the past few months. When I found that both he and his lord had taken the trouble to learn English, something few of the Frenchmen have bothered to do, I was interested. When I learned that the lord was the same man who used fyrdmen and farm-boys to destroy a small Danish army at Wivenhoe I became sufficiently interested to make the journey here. Any man who can do that must be very pr?ttig. Now I find a man who is sympathetic to the English, doesn’t bear enmity against those he fought at Hastings, is building a small army of trained Englishmen, a man who is a leader of men and who is to marry a most intelligent and beautiful English lady. I think I can honestly say I would follow you to the gate of hell and help you kick in the gate. Your enemies are my enemies.”

“Well said!” replied Alan. “Sit with us here on this side of the table as we interview the others. My lady, you are most welcome to stay, but I know that you are busy managing two households and several manors with but a week to the Mid-Summer Quarter-Day. If you are satisfied, we three can handle the rest of the interviews this afternoon.” Recognising that she was indeed busy and needed to spend time with Faran, Wybert and the stewards of the other manors who had all been called to Thorrington, Anne left them to their work.

The interview of the remaining huscarles proceeded quickly. Brand knew many personally or by reputation. In the end nineteen were accepted and four rejected. Two because Alan simply felt them to be untrustworthy characters and two because Brand didn’t accept their stories of their involvement, or the lack of involvement for those who claimed not to have received the summons or arrived late, at Hastings.

It was nearly dark when they’d finished and the evening meal was served with Anne again joining them. Brand had been selected as leader of the band of huscarles and a man named Leofwin from Freshwell in Uttlesford Hundred as his lieutenant. Each would command ten men in battle.

“I want another seven men recruited,” said Alan. “Two groups of ten for battle, and six to act as bodyguards for Lady Anne. Your men are currently sleeping in the old Hall? Tomorrow the archers will be vacating their barracks as their training cycle is complete, and you can take over the upper floor of that building. The other floor holds my twenty trained horsemen and the further twenty I’ve just started training, some for the households of the local thegns. There are another forty peasants, mainly refugees from the Danish raid who have chosen not to return home and some local cottars, who we are just starting training as men-at-arms. Your men will not make fun of the trainees or deride their efforts and will assist in their training. We’re also training some of the sergeants of the local fyrd for the local thegns, so that they can teach the fyrdmen to fight properly. Your own men’s training will start tomorrow afternoon, after Hugh and Baldwin have spent the morning training the horsemen.”

“Our training?” demanded Brand.

“Yes, your training. The Normans won at Hastings because the English fought as 7,000 individuals. We fought as 250 groups each of 25 men, each man supporting and protecting the man on each side and each squad supporting and protecting the next. Remember that I said the difference in that battle was training and discipline. I’m not interested in your individual prowess with a weapon, but how you fight together as a group- and that requires training. I’m occupied tomorrow in a meeting, so I can’t give you instruction on sword-fighting. Hugh will drill you on proper use of spears. He’ll also make sure that you can all ride.”

“Spears?” asked Brand in apparent confusion. “And we all know how to use a sword. Each of us has practiced nearly every day. And why do we need to ride?”

Hugh replied, “Yes, spears. That’s how infantry defeat cavalry in the open- that and archery. As for sword-play, let me just say that Alan is a sword-master and I’m sure you’ll all learn something from him in the next few weeks that will help keep you alive on the battlefield. Regarding riding, our force is to move quickly on horseback if needed and to be able to strike with unexpected speed. Your men will all be provided with a hackney when needed.”

Alan continued to the two huscarles, “You two are to keep your men under control. With all the men in garrison or training here there is a shortage of women. The women of the village are of good repute and nearly all are married or betrothed. Your men may form relationships with the maidens, but there is to be no force or coercion- and no payment. Leave the married women alone, even if they may be willing. I don’t want a village of whores- your men can go to Colchester for that sort of thing. How many of your men are married?” A quick check revealed a little over half, most of them with children. “We’ll get a dozen cottages built and those men can live there with their families, rather than in the barracks.”

Just then was a small commotion near the door and the Welshman Owain strode in with his four guards and a stranger, who was as short and dark as he, but more wiry. Alan strode forward, grasped Owain by the arm and shouted for food and drink for the newcomers. Owain introduced the newcomer as Alwin, a Welsh bowman like himself from his own village of Ebbw Vale. Sipping a mug of ale he briefly told the story of their trip, journeying to Bristol to take ship to Cardiff and thereby avoiding the fighting that was still taking place in Herefordshire. He had brought back thirty bows and the other twenty had been promised for delivery within a month, with arrangements made with a ship’s captain and a carter for delivery.

“Excellent!” enthused Alan. “See the fletchers tomorrow here and at Ramsey, Great Oakley and Wivenhoe, explain to each how to make the arrows. We want 500 practice arrows within a week, and then 6,000 war-shots delivered within two months, starting in two weeks. That will give each archer 120 arrows, or about ten minutes worth of shooting. What price would you suggest? Would a half-penny each with me to supply the arrow-heads be reasonable? After that I’d want another 6,000 at say 1,000 a month. Alwin can start teaching our archers here in Thorrington and Wivenhoe and you can move between Ramsey and Great Oakley teaching their archer squads.”

“It’ll take time to train them up,” warned Owain. “The longbow has a draw strength four times that of a hunting bow and we’ll need to put in place a training regime under which the archers practice for two hours a day at slowly increasing ranges. It’ll be at least six months before they can exceed a distance of 200 paces.”

“Everything that is useful takes time and training,” agreed Alan. “Do it as quickly as you can, but do it properly.”

Alan had invited 27 of the main landholders in Tendring Hundred, mostly but not all thegns, to meet at Terce on Monday 18th June at what was now called The Old Hall at Thorrington. The usual Hundred court had been delayed until Monday the 25th to allow the thegns time to collect their taxes and rents.

Notable amongst those not invited to the meeting were the stewards of the large estates of William Bishop of London at Clacton and St Osyth, Earl Ralph at Little Bentley, Engelric with the land held by him at Birch Hall from St Paul’s Cathedral at London, the huge and rich estate of St Paul’s at The Naze, St Edmond’s land at Wrabness, the king’s steward of Brightlingsea, and Robert fitzWymarc at Elmstead. With those absent, Alan was by far the largest landholder present and he sat with Anne sat at his side. He had invited his new huscarles to attend to hear the discussions and they stood, without arms or armour, around the walls of the Hall, mainly with arms folded against their chests.

“Hlaford! Gentlemen! Thank you for attending at such short notice. Notice was deliberately short as there are some that I wished not to know of this meeting. Now, why should a roomful of Englishmen listen to what a Norman has to say? One reason is because I believe that the three men responsible for the Heriot in East Anglia are abusing their position and powers. The other is that I believe we need to work together for the protection of the Hundred against attacks such as that of the Danes on Lexden and Winstree Hundreds last month. In addition to those who are here, there are many freemen and sokemen who own small plots of land, and of course the other major landholders of the Hundred. I’m aware from visiting Suffolk that the Heriot Officers there are abusing their positions. I’m sure that, as they are the same men, if they do so there, they’ll do so here.”

One of the Englishmen stood up. “I am Edward from St Osyth. I hold 3 hides of land, woodland and meadow, for which I have to pay a Heriot of?12, 1? times its value for tax assessment. On Sunday I pay 6 shillings geld. Why should we believe that you, a Frenchman is concerned for the thegns of the Hundred? Just a few months ago you invaded our lands. Five thegns in this Hundred fell against in battle against you. You hold the lands of Wulfric and Aelfric Kemp- amongst the best and most valuable holdings in the Hundred- and you will pay no Heriot redemption money on your five manors. We know after last month that you can lead warriors to victory, but why this sudden interest in our welfare? I noticed your new castle as I rode in. We English don’t like castles. Why should we think you are different to the other Normans?”

“To answer your last question first, perhaps it’s that I’m prepared to listen and consider the position and needs of other people without getting greedy. As a group, and individually, we Normans tend to be arrogant and believe we’re better than anybody else. The Normans strutting around England are no different than those doing the same in Normandy, Italy or Sicily. Normans don’t just despise and patronise the English. We do the same to the French, the Bretons, Flemings and Italians- in fact nearly everybody except the Vikings and the Germans- including anybody in Normandy who isn’t a knight.

“As to your first point, I would say my concern is not just for the Hundred, but of the shire and the kingdom,” replied Alan. “You’ll be aware that I have retained Englishmen in my service rather than engaging Normans or Frenchmen. I believe that it is inevitable that changes will take place at the top of the social hierarchy. Your nobility was comprised of four families and dominated by the family of Godwin. With their fall, and the coming of a foreign king- and I don’t believe it would have made any real difference had it been a Norman or a Norwegian, or even a Danish king- many changes will take place.

“I do not agree with the Heriot charge and spoke against it with the king. Nor do I believe that the geld, which I do have to pay, should be levied at the rate that it is being levied. But the king has made those decisions and they are law. I also have to provide men in military service for forty days a year, which the thegns of this shire are not required to do.

“What I do object to is that officers of the king- who as I have said before are at least by legal definition Englishmen, Ralph being half Breton and half-English and Bishop William a Norman appointed to his position by Edward the Confessor- are taking advantage of the Heriot for their own advantage. I intend to report those abuses to the king and I’m sure he will act on them, as he’s completely intolerant of corruption. Is there anyone here who is suffering abuse in the application of the Heriot? Not disagreement with its implementation or difficulty with its payment, but who is suffering actual extortion?”

One man put up his hand and said. “I am Alstan of Dickley, with one hide and 37 acres of land. My geld is?1 a year, and so should be my Heriot, if pay it I must. I have no sons, and two daughters. My eldest daughter Hilda is fifteen and fair. The clerk who visited me bearing authority from Bishop William has stated that if she does not marry a Norman of the Bishop’s choosing before All Saints Day on 1st of November my Heriot will be?5. I would have to forfeit and I do not doubt that my land would then be taken by the Bishop.”

Another stood. “Aelfric, a freeman from Old Hall and Lawford. Both myself and the other freemen of the village of Lawford are being charged a Heriot of three times our annual geld assessment. We cannot pay our proper Heriot, let alone that being sought, also by Bishop William.”

Several others made complaint of excessive Relief amounts. Alan asked each to meet with Osmund for him to take their depositions, with attested copies, to be sworn before and witnessed by the local priests Father Ator and Brother Wacian.

“In two weeks I intend to meet with Sheriff Robert fitzWymarc and put to him the depositions I have received by that date for him to investigate and prosecute. I swear I will also raise each with the King’s Chancellor within the month and with the king when he returns. Please pass the word around the whole shire, to those you know in each Hundred, that I need as many depositions as possible when I meet fitzWymarc and that if they want their grievances addressed this is the only chance they will have.

“I don’t care if the complainant is a thegn, a cheorl, sokeman or freeman. I don’t care if it’s for five hides or one acre. All are equal before the law and all are entitled to its protection when abuse and extortion takes place. Next week Osmund will travel to Thaxted, Halsted, Chippingong, Chelmsford, Bilrekay, Maldon and Braintree. We’ll be in Colchester for two days before I see fitzWymarc to take depositions from those in Lexden Hundred. Tell your countrymen to be brave and come forward with their grievances.”

“Won’t this make you unpopular with the Normans?” came a voice out of the crowd.

“Probably. Certainly with those who are in charge of the Heriots,” replied Alan.

“We will take you at your word,” said Leofstan of Great and Little Oakley, one of the larger landholders present. “We’ll dispatch riders all over the shire this day. Now what else do you want?”

“A unified approach to equipping and training the fyrd in the Hundred, with a thegn as my lieutenant in each of the districts within the Hundred, responsible for arranging the training of the fyrdmen,” replied Alan.

“Isn’t that the sheriff’s job?” asked Edwold, one of the three thegns from Alresford.

“So was fighting off the Danes,” interjected Anne, joining in the conversation for the first time. “But we had to do it ourselves. We also have a number of holdings with widows, some of those killed at Hastings and some whose husbands have simply died naturally- although there have been few enough of those this past year! Some estates have heirs not yet of age and who are subject to the appointment of a guardian by Earl Ralph. As Alan has said, Earl Ralph is an ‘Englishman’, but one much taken with improving his own position. How many heirs will survive to inherit? And in what condition will their holding be if that happens? They’ll be stripped bare. And the widows will receive the same threats I received to enter an arranged marriage. You can follow Alan’s lead or not. It’s your choice, but he and I will go our own way irrespective of what you do or say.

“Further,” she continued “For those in the shire who genuinely cannot pay the Heriot, Alan and myself will lend money for up to two years, as usual as a charge against your land, with no interest charged. For those, particularly smallholders and freemen, who wish to sell their land because they cannot meet the Heriot but wish to remain on their land as cheorls in laen, we would discuss their needs individually. As I said, what you choose to do is up to you, but please do not make what we seek to do more difficult by reporting what we have discussed to Earl Ralph, Bishop William or Engelric, or their men. Now we’ll serve the mid-day meal and you are free to use the Hall for your discussions before you leave,” concluded Anne.

“The church, the abbeys, monasteries and cathedrals, are lending money to the thegns and cheorls also, at no interest,” interjected Alfric.

Alan nodded his agreement and replied, “That is true. But the church rarely provides something for nothing. I think that such loans are a way of the church seeking to profit from the situation by lending money, and then when repayment is not made to then take possession of the manors involved. That way the church will acquire land at bargain prices!”

“What if we choose not to pay the Heriot and choose to fight?” asked Edwold.

Alan quickly interjected. “Please do not make that mistake! The Normans are here to stay. What is happening should realistically be looked at as the inevitable outcome of an invasion. The conquerors take over and run the country to their benefit. Whether that is also to the benefit of the current owners is questionable. England has been invaded successfully time after time over the last thousand years. The last was Cnut in 1016, but before him were many others from the Romans to the Saxons themselves, then the Vikings and the Danes several times.

“There has never once been a successful revolt in England. At first the tribes and now the earls have been too self-interested to successfully join together behind one man and raise the whole country. Can you see the Northmen accepting somebody from the South? What Englishman has the authority to raise the whole country? The Aetheling? Perhaps.

“Does Edgar Aetheling or any of the English earls have the capability to defeat King William? William is a brilliant general who commands an army of combined forces that some of you faced at Hastings in the most advantageous situation you could have hoped for, and he crushed the army of probably the best general England has ever had. Edwin or Morcar? They couldn’t even defeat a Norwegian army comprised solely of infantry at Fulford Gate!

“If there is a revolt, the whole land will need to rise as one behind one leader. Even Alfred the Great couldn’t get that degree of co-operation between the Englishmen. Scattered and isolated opposition will be crushed without mercy. William will bring total devastation to those areas that oppose him. I suggest you accept the successful Norman invasion as a fact, live with it and look to the long term. Now I will leave you to your discussions. If anybody wishes to speak with me further privately, as Edward said you know where my ‘castle’ is,” Alan and Anne rose, and with Alan holding her hand in a formal manner, proceeded out of the Hall, followed by his nineteen huscarles.

Several of the thegns including Aelfric, Leofstan and Leofson of Mose saw Alan and Anne privately later at the Hall, the latter two to discuss mutual co-operation with the fyrd.

Next morning at seven Alan stood with Hugh on the practice field outside the fort. Facing them were Brand and the other 18 huscarles, all in full mail harness. Most held kite-shaped shields, but a few preferred circular shields. Alan and Hugh had kite-shaped shields similar to the others, but painted a simple dark green, hanging from their left shoulders. Alan instructed in an easy but well-projected voice that carried to everybody in the group without shouting. “Right! Select a practice sword from the pile over there and pair up. When I give each pair the order to start, I want that pair to engage one on one.”

“Why do that? We can all use a sword,” said Brand with some distain. “Anyway, my favourite weapon is that one there,” he continued, pointing at a practice battle-axe.

“Firstly, you do it because I told you to. Secondly, I need to see what I need to work on with each of you. Now do it!” ordered Alan brusquely. The men lined up and each selected one of the blunt swords, swinging the sword to get accustomed to the balance.

One by one each of the pairs took turns to engage, with Alan and Hugh watching closely and making occasional comments to each other. Several times Alan stopped a bout to correct a technique he found particularly deficient, usually the angle at which the sword was held. Finally, Alan picked up a sword and said to Brand, who as the odd man out, had so far not participated.

“Let’s see how you go,” said Alan as he stood apparently unready three paces away from Brand. Brand towered six inches above the tall Alan and had a significantly longer reach. Brand suddenly launched himself forward with a series of vicious sword swings, which Alan countered nonchalantly with either shield or sword, slowly giving ground before Brand’s furious attack and observing the techniques and style of the other man.

Suddenly he moved to the attack with an advance followed by a ballestra lunge, a feint followed by a lunge-proper that struck Brand hard on the right of the chest. “Use that shield properly!” snarled Alan as he took a step back with a leg cross-over and pass backwards into the en garde position again.

With his face dark with anger Brand came forward more carefully this time. Alan performed a beat on Brand’s sword, a simple preparatory motion of hitting the middle of Brand’s sword to provoke a swing to which Alan responded with a circular parry, using parry counter-six followed by a stop-cut, hitting Brand on the side of the helmet with the flat of the practice-sword. He recovered in time to parry the attack that Brand pressed, despite being ‘dead’ from the head-wound, and gave a riposte which hit him again in the chest. Alan stepped back. “Dead three times in two minutes, I suggest that you do need to work on your technique, after all! Again!”

This time as Brand swung his sword Alan stepped inside the swing and used his shield to bash hard against that of his opponent. Brand used his own shield to deflect the following overhead blow from Alan, who in turn used the momentum from the defected blow to spin. He then made a lightning-fast change of grip on the practice-sword to hold the middle of the blade in his gloved hand and struck upwards with the pommel which was pointing towards Brand’s head. Although Alan pulled the strength from the blow, Brand’s head was still rocked back. As the huscarle staggered Alan, still holding the sword by its blade, used the cross-piece of the handle to catch the top of Brand’s shield and drag it down, leaving the Saxon open to a stab to the throat delivered by the blade still held in a short-grip, which Alan stopped inches from Brand’s neck.

Brand was panting heavily and both he and his men were stunned at the speed and versatility of Alan’s swordsmanship.

“Now Hugh and I will show you how it’s done properly. The hard way, without shields.”

Alan and Hugh both discarded their shields and moved to en garde, and proceeded to put on a demonstration of swordplay and footwork for five minutes that left the English astonished. The footwork each used made the contest resemble a complex dance- although dancing rarely involved stunning kicks and the throwing of dirt in the face of the partner, as the two Normans ignored all rules of chivalry. The swords flashed as they swept back and forth, both men using both the blade and the pommel to strike at their opponent. Alan finally managed a low sweep of his reversed sword, using the cross-guard to pull one of Hugh’s feet from under him, delivered a strong kick to the ribs and placed the blade at Hugh’s throat.

Breathing slightly heavily, Alan turned to the Englishmen. “As you can see, it’s not all ‘crash and bash’. If you have technique, timing and footwork you are more likely to stay alive in a swordfight, be it on the battlefield or elsewhere.”

Just then ten of Alan’s personal horsemen called ‘The Wolves’ filed out of the gate on foot.

“That’s all very well, but I’d take you with an axe!” said Brand, smarting at his loss.

“You think so? There’s a practice two-handed axe there. Pick it up!” ordered Alan. Brand tossed down his wooden sword, picked up the huge axe with its five foot haft and ten-inch, although blunt, blade. He slipped his shield around so that it hung out of the way on his back and raised the axe in the traditional left-handed stance, ready to attack the side of the opponent not protected by a shield- although with a hit from such an axe, particularly from a man as big and strong as Brand, a shield was of virtually no protection.

Alan raised his sword in the air and an instant later an arrow a yard long, but with a blunt and padded tip, crashed into Brand’s chest, knocking the wind out of him and driving him to his knees. Some 200 paces away, near the trees, Owain lowered his bow. “Lesson number one for axe-fights,” said Alan to Brand and the other huscarles as Brand struggled to suck air into his lungs and stand upright. “If you’re fighting an enemy that has archers or cross-bowmen you are likely to be dead before you get your first swing in, because you can’t use a shield when you have two hands on the haft.”

He gave Brand a couple of minutes to recover from being hit by the practice arrow. “Now if that doesn’t happen, let’s see what the swordsman can do.” This time as Brand jumped forward with the axe raised Alan took two quick steps inside the swing of the axe, hit Brand hard under the chin with the top edge of his shield and slammed the pommel of his reversed sword into Brand’s stomach. “Of course in a battle you would have run him through the guts! And again!” he said as Brand struggled back to his feet using the axe to help him up.

This time as Brand rushed forward, Alan stepped back, keeping just out of range of the swipes of the axe blade that, even if Brand turned the handle so that the flat of the blade hit Alan, would probably break several ribs- which Alan didn’t want a few days before his wedding day. After three massive swings, when Brand started an upwards swing from near his right ankle, Alan turned the shield partly sideways, dipped at the knees and used the side of the shield, now at the bottom, to catch the haft of the axe before it had hardly started its movement and when it still had no momentum. At the same time he performed a simple lunge from a crouched position, right foot sliding forwards, torso bent slightly forward to put some weight into the blade, which at the last moment Alan diverted to graze off the side of Brand’s chain mail armour.

“Dead another three times with the axe! Brand, you’re an above-average swordsman and axe-man, but I need to teach you to think with your head and not with your right arm.” Alan paused and removed his helmet, wiping the sweat away with a band of cloth attached to his wrist.

“Now for the final demonstration about why we need to practice to fight as a group. Ten of you new men take up a position over there- not you Brand, you’ve done enough for one day, let some of the others suffer a little. Five months ago these ten Wolves of mine had never handled a sword. Since then we’ve only been able to train for about two months, and only a small part of that has been on foot. We’ve mainly been spending the time teaching them to fight on horseback. Now begin.”

The ten new huscarles moved forward towards the evenly spaced line of their opponents. As usual for the English, they fought as ten individuals, each arriving at the line at a different time and concentrating on just one opponent. Alan’s Wolves moved as a team, an efficient killing machine, providing mutual support. Several ‘killed’ the opponent of the man next to him, and all displayed discipline, footwork and technique.

After about three minutes six of the huscarles and one Wolf were ‘dead’ and Alan called it off. “With a nine to four advantage it would have taken only another minute to have finished the fight. That is why we fight in groups of ten. And that’s why I don’t have room in my formations for axe-men, unless they use the one-handed short axe. Double-handed axe-men by definition fight alone, even if they are in an army of 7,000.

“Discipline and teamwork won at Hastings, and at Wivenhoe, and will win virtually every time. I hope that you have all learned some valuable lessons today. I will see you here at seven tomorrow morning. One more thing- get those shields painted dark green today, so they’ll be dry tomorrow. Hugh will provide a pot of paint and green uniform cloaks.” Alan and Hugh walked off back through the fort gates, following the ten Wolves who had just helped with the demonstration. Nineteen very thoughtful huscarles followed them a few moments later.

The Quarter Day of Mid-Summer’s Day, the Nativity of St John the Baptist, passed without undue incident. Mid-Summers Day this year fell on Sunday, so the usual holiday was superfluous. The peasants at Thorrington and Alan’s other manors, and those of Anne at Wivenhoe, enjoyed feasting at the expense of their lord. The villagers had begun their traditional ceremony, celebrating the pagan feast of the summer solstice the evening before with roaring bonfires to ward off evil spirits, feasting and merry-making.

Unattached maidens, wearing crowns of woven summer flowers, had sought to find husbands, often using very direct tactics. On Midsummer’s Day itself, after Mass celebrating the Nativity of St. John the Baptist, Alan and Anne first rode to Wivenhoe to mingle and talk with the villagers as the pigs and oxen roasted on the cooking-spits, and then returned to Thorrington in the middle of the afternoon to do the same.

By the afternoon most of the villagers were suffering some degree of incapacity, with those still capable of movement enjoying the viands and refreshments provided by their lord, dancing and singing. For many it was one of the few times of the year that they had the chance to eat red meat.

On St. John’s Eve Alan and Anne had only briefly visited the festivities on the Green at Thorrington. On Midsummer Day, as this day they were the hosts, they circulated and talked with the villagers, which included many who had journeyed from their nearby manor of Great Bentley and others who had followed them from Wivenhoe. Those who lived in the New Hall today ate and danced with those who did not, Alan and Anne sitting at a long table and chatting with Toland the village head-cheorl, Erian his assistant and the other members of the village folkmoot.

Early the following day the line of wagons, escorted by Hugh and twenty mounted Wolves, departed to deliver the taxes to the sheriff at Colchester, partly in goods and partly in cash.

This was also the monthly Hundred Court Day and Brother Wacian had volunteered to act as a second scribe. The court was now held in the Old Hall and this allowed two sittings to take place at once, a much more efficient affair.

Leofstan as the thegn second senior to Alan heard the General List of callovers and minor matters at one end of the Hall, with Ketel of Frating and Alric of Michaelstow, with Brother Wacian acting as their scribe. Alan, sitting with Ednoth of Little Oakley and Leofson of Moze, both men of substantial estates, heard the trials at the other end of the Hall, with Osmund acting as scribe.

Most of the thegns sat at benches at one end of the Hall or the other, listening to cases that involved their geburs or which interested them. Most of the crowd listened to the trials at Alan’s end of the Hall. The case of Rowena the witch had been listed for trial a day early and all the claimants, witnesses and frithbogh oath-swearers had been notified, and Alan was determined to get that matter out of the way.

But first was the more urgent case of a charge of rape by a young man named Benwick from Elmstead, land held by Robert fitzWymarc. The woman was a maiden of sixteen years of age named Udela. Udela testified on oath that she was a freewoman and had been working in the barn of Oeric, the cheorl who employed her, when she had been approached early in the morning of Wednesday 6th June by Benwick, a man from the village known to her. After a few minutes of conversation he had thrown her onto a pile of hay, opened her bodice, lifted her dress and had his way with her. She claimed to have cried out and tried to push him away.

As usual in such matters there were no witnesses. Being a woman she was not a member of a frithbogh, but called as oath-swearers her father Ethelbert who gave oath that she was a good and virtuous maid, not given to dalliance with the boys of the village. She also called the village wise-woman Aethelu, who swore that she had inspected the girl who had been brought to her by Ethelbert and her mother immediately after the incident and on examination had found that the girl’s maidenhead had been breached a short time before and that semen was present.

Benwick gave oath that he had indeed had sexual relations with the woman, but claimed that it was consensual. The nine other members of his frithbogh gave oath that, although young at eighteen, he was a good and trustworthy man, not given to acts of violence even when drunk; they swore that although he was unmarried and had no girl with whom he was ‘walking out’, he always treated women with respect. His employer was called and gave oath that he was a good and reliable lad, although he could not explain why he was Oeric’s barn at that time on that day.

Leofson suggest that they break for lunch and consider their verdict. Alan called for food and drink to be brought from the tavern and asked Osmund to summarise the evidence.

“A young woman of good repute, who knows the man Benwick but has not previously spent any time talking to him and certainly has not been seeing him regularly. She made a prompt and correct complaint to her father, which he investigated as well as he could. There is no reason to think that she would suddenly be overcome by lust and either propose sex to Benwick, or, while at her work-place, agree to it. Benwick again appears of good repute, although his frithbogh oath-swearers have a vested interest in him being found not guilty as otherwise they would have to help pay his fine. He admits having sex with the girl, but claims she consented. He has not been able to give a good reason why he was in Oeric’s barn when he is employed by a farmer two fields away. Both the man and the girl have a wergild of 200 shillings.”

“And the penalties?” asked Leofson.

Osmund went to consult the law books he had left with Brother Wacian. When he returned he said “Six shillings for lying with a cheorl’s maid. For rape, castration and bot for the cheorl’s maid of 100 shillings.

“I say I can’t be satisfied whether he raped her or not,” said Ednoth. “Let him make bot of six shillings, paid to the girl.” The others agreed, the parties were recalled and judgment was given by Alan.

Next was the case of Rowena the witch. The complainants, now only two in number and both women, gave oath that Rowena had cursed their farms, causing illness to their animals, their cows’ milk to curdle and their children to become sick, although now recovered. They called several men to give oath as to their trustworthiness.

Alric, one of the thegns of Alresford, spoke for Rowena as Alan had requested. He pointed out her extreme age, that he had spoken with her a number of times about the case but had been unable to get any sense or anything other than vague mumbles from her. He also said that since the accusation had been made he had arranged for the woman to live with a reputable widow in his own village. The widow, named Mildreth, gave oath that Rowena seemed lacking of wits and spent her time either sitting by the fire or on a chair outside, constantly mumbling to herself. She suffered a speech impediment and one side of her body appeared not to work properly. In the months that she had lived with Mildreth awaiting the trial Rowena had shown no signs of undertaking witchcraft and there had been no untoward events either to her own animals or those of her village.

The three thegns retired long enough to the Solar to quaff a pint of ale each, and returned a unanimous verdict of not guilty. On returning to the Hall Alan announced the verdict and said, “I told you months ago that I viewed the case as a waste of time, as even if you had proven the woman a witch the only penalty at law would be to order her to desist and leave the Hundred. The poor woman has simply lost her wits and this action has been brought out of malice. I order you each to pay bot of five shillings, to be paid to Mildreth and be used by her to care for the woman Rowena. Case closed.”

Shortly afterwards Osmund departed by horse in his journey around Essex, accompanied by four mounted Wolves for protection.

Orvin and his family, including Uncle Lidmann, arrived at Thorrington late on Wednesday afternoon having taken a leisurely two days to travel from Ipswich, the men riding and the women and children travelling in a light horse-drawn cart. Orvin had borrowed six men-at-arms from friends who were thegns near Ipswich.

Anne instructed Otha the cook to prepare a suitable welcoming meal, rather than the usual more simple evening meal. The guests were given a conducted tour of first the village, seeing the water-mill at work and the salt house where the salt from the nearby salt-pans, which Alan had increased in size that spring, was cleaned and ground, and then the fort and Hall where they marvelled at the unusual amenities and the numerous servants and soldiers.

At the evening meal they sat at both sides of the head table, an unusual seating arrangement for the times, so Alan and Anne could converse more easily with their guests, and in particular Orvin and Lidmann who were sitting opposite them.

Otha tended to be more set in her presentation of food than most cooks, with the food being served as a number of removes, starting this night with saffron soup made of egg yolks, verjuice, veal stock, saffron and cinnamon seasoned with nutmeg and grains of paradise, eaten with fresh bread. Over the soup Orvin announced, “The ship from Haarlem has arrived back at Ipswich, an almost new large Dutch-built trading cog with a load of dyes, lace and other goods. The ship’s name is ‘Zeelandt’. I’ve sold the cargo at Ipswich. The sale in Haarlem of those luxury goods taken from the Danes also resulted in a substantial surplus of gold and silver being shipped back. After allowing for the purchase of a return cargo of cloth and wool there is?827 10/ and 4d. Where do you want the ship to go and to collect what cargo?” Alan blinked in amasement at such a huge sum of money.

Anne interjected, “I thought St Nazaire at the mouth of the Loire, collecting ingots of tin in Devon on the way, and returning with a cargo of fine wine- with most discharged at London or Winchester. Perhaps with one sixth of the load at Colchester, one sixth at Ipswich, and then back again on a regular basis.”

Both Orvin and Lidmann nodded agreement. Lidmann said, “We don’t have any factors in Devon or St Nazaire, but I can ask around and get the names of some trustworthy men we can use. That would be a good high-value route to use, but longer and with some greater risk than our usual shorter voyages across the North Sea. The Bay of Biscay is notorious for its bad weather and there are some pirates around Finistere and the Channel Islands.”

“I’ve got an idea for that,” said Alan. “I thought maybe a dozen soldiers on each ship, each armed with a cross-bow or bow and sword or seax would discourage the pirates- particularly if we use fire-arrows. I have a good formula for Wildfire that would give the pirates something to think about other than boarding our ships.”

Lidmann looked at Orvin. “That should work. We can see how it goes.”

“What do you want to do with the surplus funds?” asked Orvin.

“We’ll need some to buy tin on the voyage down, after that we can barter wine for tin. Other than that, I’ll put it with a couple of Jews in London. You and Aaron have given us two names to follow up, Malachi and Gideon,” replied Anne, acting as business manager.

“Yes, they both have a good reputation and are men of substance. Your letter of introduction from Aaron should open the required doors there,” replied Orvin.

“Now for the other news, I have a further fifteen depositions alleging corruption in Suffolk- mainly by Engelric, but also three about Earl Ralph and one against Bishop William. Earl Ralph seems to have kept his activities mainly to Norfolk. I’ve taken the liberty of forwarding them to Roger Bigod, along with a letter on which Cynefrid forged your signature. How are things progressing in that regard down here?”

“Osmund is off collecting depositions from around the shire at the moment. We’ll see what the outcome is over the next few days,” said Alan. “Just as a matter of interest, you must tell me at some stage what was contained in the letter I didn’t send!”

Anne slept at Wivenhoe on Friday night, the same night that Osmund returned with 26 depositions he had collected in his quick journey around the shire. Each was written in both English and Latin with two copies, and each of which was sworn and signed by the deponent and two distinguished witnesses. Alan had other things on his mind that evening, although he had adopted a blase attitude to the whole marriage process and allowed Anne free rein with the arrangements.

Alan had a reasonably restful night of sleep- the only nights he could recall not being able to sleep was the nights before the battles at Hastings and Wivenhoe- and the wedding had been arranged for the morning so that the participants and guests wouldn’t have to sit around all day waiting. The appointed time was in the late morning, an hour before Sext. The appointed place was the steps of the church at Wivenhoe. Alan had asked Edward, the young thegn who lived at Alresford and who had a second manor at St Osyth, to stand as his ‘best man’ and witness. To pass time Alan spent several hours looking at the depositions that Osmund had collected, although with little information sinking into his consciousness.

At about Terce Alan called for the youth Leof and instructed his party to be ready to depart. As he started to put on his best tunic and hose, a simple russet affair made of fine linen, Leof interrupted him saying, “Excuse me, my lord. Lady Anne insisted that you wear this.” and handed Alan a package which when opened revealed a tunic in silk of a yellow so deep in colour as almost to be golden, embroidered in black, and a pair of black silken hose.

“Well, I certainly can’t wear those while I’m riding,” commented Alan as he re-donned the tunic he had initially been wearing. “I’ll have to change at Wivenhoe.”

Although Alan had arranged a feast for the people of Thorrington for later in the day, and the smoke and smell of cooking meat and baking bread was drifting across the village, many of the villagers had decided to make the short journey to Wivenhoe and had departed on foot an hour or so earlier.

Alan’s quite large party was swollen by the addition of the three thegns who lived at Alresford as they proceeded through that village. Meeting other invited guests along the way, the company was very substantial when it arrived at Wivenhoe at mid-morning. Alan was gratified to see that the villagers had taken considerable trouble to decorate their houses and the area around the village green with colourful cloths, bunches of flowers and wreathes of ivy.

All of the Hundred thegns had been invited, including those who held church lands at Wrabness, The Naze, St Osyth and Clacton- except the minions of Robert fitzWymarc and Earl Ralph. A number of thegns from Lexden Hundred attended, although their numbers had been depleted by the recent Danish raid.

The village green was thronged with those men and women of local importance and the villagers of Wivenhoe, Thorrington, Alresford, Elmstead, Frating and Great Bentley, all wearing their best clothes. Clouds of pleasant-smelling smoke rose from the cooking pits where numbers of pigs and sheep and oxen were being roasted whole on spits. Tables had been set up to receive the food, and in three places around the Green barrels of ale stood behind serving tables ready to be served when the festivities commenced. From the crowd and festival atmosphere it was almost as if a fair were being held.

After chatting for some time with the invited guests, now joined by his future in-laws Raedwald, Lidmann, Garrett and Betlic, Alan changed his clothing in Father Ator’s house and emerged to whistles and calls of appreciation at the finery he had donned. He was a man who didn’t like standing around waiting and doing nothing, but he was now encountering the dual problems of his situation. Firstly, there was no accurate method of keeping track of time. In large towns or cities time was dictated by the ringing of the bells of the local monastery every three hours. In a village the time was whatever most of the residents agreed. The second was that the tendency of the bridal party to be late is long established. Fortunately it was a warm day, with a few high clouds in the sky to prevent it becoming hot. As required by law the ceremony was taking place outside in the open, on the steps of the wooden church.

Eventually there was a stir in the crowd, starting near the Hall, and the crowd began to coalesce as the bridal party moved towards the church. Anne’s young nieces and nephews ran ahead of the bridal party casting showers of flower petals on the path.

Anne, arm in arm with Orvin, walked in a stately manner towards the groom’s party, now standing on the steps of the church with Father Ator. Her dress, full length and not quite brushing the ground, matched Alan’s tunic, golden silk embroidered in black. It was tight at the bodice and waist before flowing wide at the hips and cut low at the front, but not immodestly so, and had sleeves that hung loose from below the elbow.

The bridesmaids, her sister Mae and sister-in-law Ellette, both wore tight-fitting dresses of burgundy-coloured silk. Fortunately they both had the figures to carry-off the desired effect. All three wore their hair loose and long, unusual as covered hair was the norm for women except at weddings. Anne wore a wreath of woven ivy, herbs, and flowers with gold-coloured ribbons attached and hanging loosely over the back of her head, and carried a large bouquet of flowers- the gloriosa lily, with the appearance of crushed red velvet, ivy, red rose, amaryllis, birch twigs and holly branches, parrot tulips and wheat- the last a sign of fertility.

Behind them came a train comprising the mother-of-the-bride, a group of well-dressed thegn’s wives and Anne’s maids, all four presented with new clothes for this occasion. As the bridal party appeared and moved closer, the invited guests and villagers had moved to the church steps, leaving a central pathway for the bridal party.

As they arrived, Alan winked at Orvin, who was still arm in arm with his daughter and who had hardly noticed until now. Of much the same height as Anne he was wearing a tunic of burgundy-coloured silk and black silk tights. With a smile Orvin gave Anne’s hand to Alan and took a step backwards. Anne placed a necklace made of beads of white jasper around Alan’s neck, signifying Gentleness. Alan noticed that she wore two necklaces, one of red jasper indicating Love and the other of green jasper indicating Virtue and Faith.

They turned to face Father Ator and the service began. Alan found he wasn’t able to pay much attention to the preliminary part of the service and the homily delivered by the priest. Father Ator asked if any present knew a reason why the couple should not be married and then asked Anne and Alan so that they may confess any reason prohibiting their marriage. After receiving no response from the congregation and a negative response from Anne and Alan, he proceeded.

“Alan, wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife? Wilt thou love her and honour her, keep her and guard her, in health and in sickness, as a husband should a wife, and forsaking all others on account of her, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”

Alan replied, “I will”.

“Anne, wilt thou have this man to be thy wedded husband? Wilt thou love him, obey him and honour him, keep him and guard him, in health and in sickness, as a wife should a husband, and forsaking all others on account of him, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”

“I will,” replied Anne.

“Who gives this woman to this man?” asked Father Ator.

“I do,” replied Orvin.

Father Ator nodded and said, “Let the bride and groom now exchange vows.”

“I, Alan, take thee, Anne to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness, and in health, till death do us part, if the holy church will ordain it. And thereto I plight thee my troth,” said Alan.

“I, Anne, take thee, Alan to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness, and in health, till death do us part, if the holy church will ordain it. And thereto I plight thee my troth.”

The wedding rings were presented to the priest who then blessed them, and the rings were exchanged. Alan and Anne then entered the church and approached the altar where Father Ator gave a prayer and a blessing, ending the ceremony.

When Alan and Anne walked back out through the church door there was a universal cheer and they were showered with grains of wheat. Arm in arm they walked to the centre of the village green and Alan, now lord of Wivenhoe, pronounced that the celebrations were to commence. There was another cheer and the invited guests began to drift towards the Hall where food and entertainment had been arranged for the more noble of the guests. First Alan and Anne spent about half an hour circulating amongst the crowd of cheorls, sokemen, cottars and slaves, greeting those they knew, which were nearly all from their own villages, chatting and making jokes, before they entered the Hall.

At first glance the Hall appeared in pandemonium. There were perhaps 100 people milling around in the small area between the tables that had been set up and occupied most of the Hall. After a moment or two Alan realised that in fact servants were circulating with trays bearing mugs of ale and cups of mead and wine. Others carried trays of ‘finger food’ as the hour was now well past when most ate their mid-day meal.

Walking to the high table Alan signalled for a blast on a horn to call attention, and in a loud voice asked the guests to find a seat as the celebratory meal was about to begin. With their innate knowledge of their position in the local hierarchy the guests found positions at the tables that suited their social circumstances.

After toasts to the happy couple the food began to arrive. The First Remove was zanzarella soup; chicken broth with eggs and cheese thickened with breadcrumbs and spiced with pepper; veal and egg pies spiced with ginger, pepper and mace; flampoyntes; pork pies with cottage cheese, anise and pine nuts; spinach and egg tarte with parsley and cheese with mustard greens and cress with milk of almonds. The Second Remove was seafood, with shrimps sauteed in garlic; scallops in white wine; baked cod; pan-fried flounder with garlic sauce with almonds and melted cheese sauce, with perre and makke as the vegetables. The Third Remove was meats, some from the roasting pits outside. Other offerings were stuffed suckling pig; roasted swan with bacon; chicken almond fricatellae; roast beef; stewed mutton with herbs; veal in bokenade with spices, all with fried broad beans with onions, roasted parsnip, boiled salad and peas royale with almond milk, mint, parsley and sugar. Being summer, the desserts were a variety of seasonal fruit in pies- blueberry, blackberry and strawberry- hulwa made with honey, custard tarts and six varieties of cheese ranging from plain to very piquant.

With the consumption of alcohol the gathering grew ever more noisy, only quieting when the jugglers and singers hired by Anne performed, and particularly when Owain and Alwin sang a series of duets in Welsh. Anne and Mae sang a set of English love songs, accompanied by Owain on the lute and Alwin on the pan pipes.

Halfway through the proceedings came the time that Alan had been dreading- the dances. Having practiced over the past several days Anne knew that Alan danced with all the elegance of an ox. Fortunately the dances were quite simple and there were no complicated steps to memorise. They danced a simple duet, before being joined by some of the other guests in a carole, a circular dance.

The space in the Hall had allowed only a limited area to be provided for entertainment so only a few could take the floor at any time. This was followed by a number of other community dances such as a chain-dance, a brandsle and a pavane. At ‘Hole in the Wall’ Alan found the footwork too difficult and handed Anne to Edward and retired to the high table to sit with Orvin, who was sipping wine. Most of the male guests were like Alan, men with better footwork with a sword than on the dance floor, and the number of dancers participating fell to those dances involving two to four couples at a time. The six musicians played lutes, flutes, a psaltery and a small hand-drum.

At about the time of Vespers in the late evening, between dances and music, Alan rose and called for silence, stilling the dull roar of the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen! Friends all! I thank you for coming to share our nuptials this day. The event has been made all the more solemn by your attendance and more enjoyable by your participation in the festivities this afternoon. Please stay and enjoy the fellowship and hospitality as long as you wish, but the bride and groom must now depart so we can be at our destination of Thorrington before nightfall. We both thank you again for your attendance this day, and look forward to our future meetings. May God bless you all!”

The response was a cheer and a number of ribald comments, although not as many as usual, given that all present knew that Alan and Anne had already been living together for some weeks. Alan and Anne proceeded to the bedchamber where they changed into riding clothes. Accompanied by ten sober Wolves in full armour, a slightly tipsy Osmund, Leof and two giggling maids they rode off with the lowering sun at their backs.

They arrived at Thorrington a little before dark and visited the festivities still continuing at the village green, greeting each person by name, before they proceeded to the Hall. After greeting all in the Hall they proceeded to the bedchamber and their first privacy of the day.

Next morning they luxuriated by lying abed and basking in the afterglow of several mutually satisfactory couplings. Eventually, driven by a full bladder, Alan suggested that they rise and he would present the Morning Gifts before Anne’s family arrived from Wivenhoe. After they dressed, in much more mundane clothes than they had worn the previous day, Alan led to the way across the Hall grounds to the armoury. Once inside the large building, and her eyes had accustomed themselves to the gloom, Anne saw fifty sets each of a chain-mail byrnie, helmet, sword and spear lying on a shield. “Not perhaps the most romantic of gifts, but practical,” said Alan.

“I’ll put them to good use at Wivenhoe. The fyrdmen will be properly equipped for the first time and I know it’s your intention to teach them how to use them,” said Anne solemnly, remembering the time barely six weeks ago when the men of her village were fighting for their very lives and those of their kin. This gift may not be romantic, but was both practical and necessary.

“I’d suggest that we also build a bailey next to the Wivenhoe village as a place of refuge in case next time we are not lucky enough to get adequate warning. I don’t think it needs a motte as raiders aren’t going to sit down for days for an extended siege. Something akin to a small burgh, which is more of less what I’ve built here. Colchester is always going to draw Dane and Norwegians like bees to a honey-pot on a regular basis, and the village is on their route both to and from the city. The village also needs a small garrison and a suitable commander,” commented Alan as they walked back to the Hall.

“It is now yours to do as you will, my lord,” said Anne with a slight note of both irony and regret in her voice.

“I don’t think so,” replied Alan brightly. “I’ve plenty of other manors to take my time and attention and Wivenhoe will always be yours. You just have to pay the Heriot out of your own share of money!” the last with a big smile to show that the comment was meant in jest.

Inside the Hall he led the way to his office. Once there he pulled out several packages sewn into covers of hessian and covered with oiled linen. He first placed two large packages of similar dimensions on his desk, each about eighteen inches wide by two feet high and five inches thick. He handed Anne a small sharp knife which she used to cut away the covering of the first package, revealing a large book bound in a simple red leather cover, with a plain gold cross and the Roman number “II” on the cover. Alan gave a snort of amusement and commented, “A choice of two and I had to give you the wrong one first!”

Anne stroked the leather cover gently and then carefully opened the book. It was the New Testament part of the Bible that Alan had bought at Ipswich, written in English. She carefully turned the pages, examining the beautiful illumination work. “It’s beautiful! I suppose the other is the Old Testament?”

Alan nodded and said, “I thought that the church at Thorrington needs a Bible and that you could endow it either with this one, or my own plain copy, depending on which you wish to keep.”

Anne signed and replied, “That will be a hard decision to make. This is so beautiful, but your Bible was created with your own hands. That’s something about which I’ll need to think. Now that you have raised the topic, I probably should provide Father Ator and the Wivenhoe church with a Bible as well, but nothing as magnificent as this.”

Anne cut open the second package and sighed again with appreciation of the quality of the work and materials. Alan placed another smaller parcel on the table, which again Anne cut open with careful eagerness. This time the book had a green leather cover and was much smaller. Its name was written in gold lettering on the front cover and spine. “The Dream of the Rood,” said Anne. “By Cynewulf- one of the earliest English religious poems. A brand-new copy!” Alan put the next parcel on the table, a very large one. “Andreas, the story of Saint Andrew and his journey to rescue St. Matthew. Also new,” she breathed after she had cut it open.

Alan placed another two parcels on the table. “Used copies from the library of Ely Abbey. I was able to arrange an exchange of copies of two volumes of Hippocrates’ Corpus between them and Colchester- On Unfruitful Women and On the Sight, and these were my payment- as well as Brother Leanian providing me with copies of the Corpus when they are copied. These are the two volumes of Ovid’s Ars Amatoria that you don’t have, so that gives you the full set.”

“We’ll soon have a library to rival that of Colchester Priory!” said Anne as she reached up to give Alan a long lingering kiss. There was the sound of horses arriving outside, shouting and a general commotion. “It sounds like my family is arriving. Come quickly upstairs into the Solar, where I have my presents hidden.” A quick dash up the stairs to avoid the guests, and Anne was presenting presents to Alan, which was not part of the usual ‘Morning Gift’ ritual.

“These are rather more prosaic than your gifts,” said Anne as she handed over six large parcels. Five contained elegant tunics and hose, three in black with silver or gold embroidery. One was in silk and two in fine linen, one in burgundy-coloured silk (which Alan noticed was the same material used in the bride’s wedding dresses) and one in hunter-green velvet. The other parcel contained three pairs of boots, in black, red and green leather.

“I wondered where my boots went that day in Ipswich” said Alan with a smile. “How did you get the tunics and hose the correct size without me having a fitting? That gold tunic fitted perfectly.”

“I stole one of your old tunics that fitted well and gave it to the tailor. Just like the boots to the cobbler, although since you only had one pair I couldn’t let him pull the boots apart to get a proper design. I know you like to dress inconspicuously in black, but you’re an important man, a member of the Curia Regis and the King’s Inner Council and will need to dress accordingly.” Anne put her hand into a pocket and said “And I also have this.” When Alan opened the small box he found a signet ring, gold with red jasper carved with a design of a crossed sword and arrow with fire in the background. “Beautiful, and an appropriate design,” he commented as he slipped the ring onto his finger. Anne checked the size, which fortunately fitted well. They hugged and kissed quickly before proceeding downstairs to meet their guests.

The bawdy banter was somewhat less than usual as both the guests and members of the household were aware that Alan and Anne had been sleeping together for some weeks, but most of the age-old jokes were made over the mid-day meal. Alan and Anne asked Orvin how the festive dinner had progressed after they had left the previous evening. Alan had a quiet word with Osmund about the feelings of the villagers. The response was that the residents of both Thorrington and Wivenhoe seemed to bear genuine goodwill to Anne as their lady and to Alan as their lord, and also in Wivenhoe’s case as its saviour. Alan might well be a foreigner but was well accepted and loved.

Next day Alan took Anne’s family, women included, hunting along the coastline, the women riding side-saddle and Anne wearing conventional clothing. On emerging from the Hall Alan presented Anne with another Morning Gift- a female merlin, a medium-sized falcon. “Her name is Cyrtenes, or ‘Beauty’. Benoic’s been training her for several months since she was taken from the nest.” He first handed his wife with a gauntlet of thick leather, and then placed the merlin on her wrist. She was a beautiful creature about a foot long, with pale off-white feathers highlighted by darker brown markings, dark grey wings and a barred tail. “The merlin is a falcon, not a hawk- a long-wing, so we can’t use her much in the woods. She needs open space to work. She’s a pigeon-hawk. My peregrine falcon, Caf, is also a female, and will take duck and grouse. She’s much larger and heavier to carry. Caf has been trained by Benoic to also take hares, which they don’t usually do. It’s interesting that with birds of prey the females are larger and more aggressive than the males! Don’t expect her to show any affection to you. Hawks and falcons don’t- they just tolerate us because they’ve been trained that we’re a source of food and shelter. You never know when you cast them off if they’re going to return, and often we have to use a lure to bring them back, relying on their greed. One day that probably won’t be enough and she’ll likely fly away.

It was a warm and pleasant day and Alan enjoyed being outdoors and the exercise. Alan taught Anne the basics of how to use a falcon- how to untie the hood, with one hand, when to release her and how to call her back. To allow Anne to use her new gift more fully they were hunting the coastline along the mudflats and swamps of the estuary, rather than woodland, as both birds were long-wings and would struggle to take prey in a forest and would be more likely to suffer injury. Cyrtenes had taken two pigeons and Caf had taken a duck and a hare by the time they paused for a picnic lunch near Brightlingsea. Raedwald and Garrett had been provided with hunting bows, but they hadn’t shown any skill on the few times that the party had got close enough to loose a few arrows at their intended prey of ducks.

Clearly the guests, especially the women, were not entertained by the day’s activities and Orvin asked, “You do this often? We don’t seem to be catching enough food to provide dinner.”

“Hawking isn’t really about catching dinner, it’s more an excuse to get out and have some exercise in the open. Most hawks are too small to catch anything worthwhile. When we go hunting in the forest for deer and boar we usually get at least enough to feed the high table for a few days, but I didn’t think slinking quietly through the forest was something Lora, Mae and Ellette would enjoy. It’s also more dangerous, with boar, bear and wolves- and also the risk of being hit by somebody else’s’ arrow! I can arrange to take the men out in the forest the day after tomorrow, if you like. Most of the nobility, Norman and English, hunt regularly.

“Personally, I enjoy a day out in the sun and a little exercise but don’t really enjoy ‘the thrill of the hunt’. I’m concentrating too much on not putting an arrow into one of my hunting party! Boar hunting is… exciting, if that’s the correct word. It’s enough to make you crap in your pants. The boar suddenly appears about ten paces away, charges straight at you intending to kill you with its tusks and you have to stick a spear straight in its chest and kill it quickly, before it kills you.” Orvin, Garrett and Raedwald looked unimpressed at the idea of boar hunting, clearly preferring not to have to fight with their food. Young Betlic was one of the few guests who looked like he was enjoying the outing.

“What else do you do out here?” asked Raedwald.

Alan laughed. “It’s not like we’re in a city like Ipswich were they have dancing bears, dog-fights and cock-fights,” he said. “We are poor rustic people. Watching a horse cover a mare is enough entertainment for most villagers for a week. Anne and myself are kept busy with the duties our position brings. Efficiently running six manors, each of which is like a small business. Listening to complaints brought by over 1,000 people, attending the Hundred court. In my case training the fyrdmen and my own troopers each morning.”

“I’ve heard that you are one on the best swordsmen in Europe,” interjected Betlic.

Alan smiled. “I can handle a blade well and that’s what I try to teach my men,” he replied modestly.

Bored by the lack of any but rustic pursuits Anne’s family departed to return home early on the morning of Tuesday 3rd July. Although Alan liked them well-enough, he felt a sense of relief when they left, almost a feeling that now nobody was looking over his shoulder and he could scratch an itch without wondering if anybody would be offended. Lora in particular showed all the signs of being a typical mother-in-law, with few words of praise and many of complaint.

Alan chose the following day to ‘beard the lion in his den’ and rode out in the early morning to see Robert fitzWymarc at Colchester Castle, taking Osmund, Leof and half a dozen Wolves in full armour. Calling in at ‘the Three Hounds’ for some sustenance after the ride, Alan was surprised to hear from the taverner that a youth had left a message with him, which was to meet with ‘Brun the one-eyed’ at the ‘Hog’s Head Tavern’, a rough inn down near the docks. Alan made a mental note to attend to that in the afternoon.

It was a short walk up the hill to the castle, where Alan’s guards were left at the guard-house by the gate. After a short wait the three were shown into the cluttered small room that was, for want of a better description, fitzWymarc’s office.

FitzWymarc sat with his boots up on the table, wearing a stained and threadbare tunic and hose and eating an apple with his mouth open. Alan could see one of the boots needed repair. Sitting on a bench behind fitzWymarc were his deputy Roger and a fat priest who appeared to act as fitzWymarc’s scribe, but who was not introduced. Alan had taken particular trouble with the appearance of his party and both Osmund and Leof wore new clothes of dark green, while Alan wore one of the more simple black embroidered tunics that Anne had given him, in linen and not silk so as not to appear overly ostentatious, and his new signet ring. FitzWymarc waved them to sit at a bench opposite him at the table.

“Good morning, Sir Robert! I trust that we find you well,” said Alan by way of conversation as it appeared fitzWymarc wasn’t going to say anything. “This is my clerk Osmund and we have matters of importance that we wish to discuss with you as sheriff.”

FitzWymarc grunted, threw the chewed apple-core into the corner of the room and abruptly said, “I hear that congratulations are in order, to you and Lady Anne. What Earl Ralph will have to say about your breach of the ban on marrying landed widows I can only imagine!”

Alan was guarding his temper well. A man of even disposition and rarely given to bad humour, he was well aware that on those few occasions when he lost his temper the results tended to be spectacular. To abuse fitzWymarc, the sheriff and the most powerful man in the shire, would achieve nothing. Clearly from fitzWymarc’s attitude the meeting was not to be friendly and relations were not on a good footing.

“What is the attitude of the earl of East Anglia to my marriage is a matter of total unconcern to me. I hold no land from him nor any of his minions, including yourself, nor does Lady Anne. We needed no man’s permission to marry, and as such we sought none. I’m sure that Earl Ralph has more important matters on his mind than my marital status- although I’m sure that if it is of importance to him, he’ll raise the topic when we next sit together on the Kings Council.” The last being a polite dig at the sheriff to remind him of the status of the man with whom he was talking.

“Talking of Lady Anne, she’s not yet paid her Relief,” said fitzWymarc abruptly. Alan noted that no claim of forfeiture was being made.

“She’s not yet been notified of her assessment, so of course she can’t have paid. I would also say that she was most offended at the message and offer that your clerk, the scrawny one with the bad teeth, brought several months ago. As her husband I also of course take offence at that message. What is the assessment for Wivenhoe?”

FitzWymarc looked Alan straight in the eyes and lied to him that the message as understood by Lady Anne was not as he had meant and that no threat or coercion had been intended. Alan raised an eyebrow at Osmund and commented in a loud aside intended to be overheard, “Strange that I didn’t mention the contents of the message or offer, but Sir Robert seems to be intimately familiar with them.”

FitzWymarc turned beet red at the plain but unspoken message that he was lying. “The Relief figure is?8, set by Bishop William,” he snapped.

“For a property with a rated value of 40 shillings? Five Hides of land and five ploughs, that’s a nice even quadrupling of the value. May I ask what value was put on your nearby holding of Elmstead, where you have eight Hides of land, 22 ploughs, a mill, a salt-house and beehives?” asked Alan frostily.

“No you may not! That’s between the landholder and the official handling the transaction,” replied fitzWymarc abruptly.

“Still I’m sure that is something the king will look at when he returns, along with the Relief values of the other properties you hold in Lexden Hundred and around the shire- you being defined as an Englishman for the purpose of the Relief, holding those lands before William was crowned king and having to pay the impost. I recall you coming to Hastings and warning William not to fight as Harold’s army was so large- and then you seemed to disappear again, not being seen on either side during the battle,” said Alan in an even tone of voice. He borrowed the quill and ink on the table to fill in gaps in a message on a piece of parchment which he handed to Leof. “Take two of our men from the guard-house, visit Aaron the moneylender and come back here with the money,” he instructed.

“Borrowing money from the Jews?” sneered fitzWymarc.

“My financial affairs are none of your business. The Relief money Bishop William demands will be here within the hour. I would suggest that few of those of whom Relief has been demanded would have paid so swiftly. Please make sure that your clerk provides my clerk with a receipt.

“Now, talking about Reliefs, I’m aware that there have been many abuses of power by Earl Ralph, Bishop William and Engelric, both directly by them and by their minions. Many of these are crimes which the sheriff is required to investigate. I speak not of simple cases of overcharging, such as I have just experienced, but of threats and extortion and forced marriages. I’m recently back from Ipswich were I made a full report to Roger Bigod, the sheriff of Suffolk, and I believe he’s undertaking a full investigation. I have here 29 depositions of complaint, written in both English and Latin and sworn by the deponents in the presence of upstanding and honourable members of the local community- usually the local priest and the village head-man.

“Of the 29, 14 relate to matters which are a crime under both English and Norman law. Two relate to you personally. Two to Earl Ralph or his servants. Three to Engelric personally and the rest to the servants of yourself, the earl, the bishop and Engelric. I am sure that other depositions will be received. It’s your responsibility as sheriff to investigate these crimes to the fullest extent of the law, irrespective of who has been accused. I expect that you will place an immediate halt on the forced marriages that are proposed. The depositions each include a statement by the brides-to-be that they do not consent to the proposed match. A duplicate copy of each deposition will be placed by me into the hands of Chancellor Regenbald as soon as I can travel to London.” FitzWymarc looked as if he was about to become apoplectic, gasping with anger and bright red of face.

Just then Leof arrived back with a large and heavy sack full of coins, which Osmund insisted be counted out on the table- all 1,920 silver pennies, weighing nearly six pounds in weight. A receipt was demanded and received. This took some time as the coins were counted into piles. Osmund then handed the bag of written depositions directly into fitzWymarc’s hand.

The clearly furious sheriff made a gesture to stay Alan as he started to rise from his seat. “You made a comment a few minutes ago regarding my not being present with my men at Hastings. As you know I came to England years ago and received land from King Edward. You will also know that I am kin to King William. William does not reward either those who are disloyal or those who shirk their duty. After William was crowned I received the office of sheriff of Essex in place of the man who fell at Hastings. Consider those facts well.”

Alan thought briefly and then nodded. FitzWymarc had ridden into William’s camp shortly before the battle at Hastings and met with the man who was then duke and would become king, before again riding off. He now appreciated in hindsight that he had made a mistake and made an enemy of a man who was both capable and in royal favour. Any complaint against fitzWymarc was likely to be ignored. In the future he would have to try to mend bridges and avoid further confrontation.

“Well, that has ‘put the cat amongst the pigeons’,” commented Osmund wryly as they walked down the hill towards ‘The Hog’s Head’ Tavern after leaving the castle.

The Tavern was easy to find. It had no sign, but instead a dried and wizened pig’s head stared with empty eyes onto the street. ‘Brun the one-eyed’ was similarly obvious enough to find. He was the barman and had a verbal message from Linn, the young bandit who fitzWymarc had released several weeks earlier. Linn confirmed Pearce’s story of organised banditry across much of Essex and advised that he had joined a band operating in the forest and hills near Braintree and Coggeshall at the junctions of Lexden Hundred, Hinckford Hundred and Witham Hundred. Further contact could be made via a patron of ‘The Prancing Pony’ Tavern at Coggeshall called ‘Old Aelfhare’. Linn also reported that Peace had bolted north for Suffolk and points beyond as soon as he had been released. Alan handed over a penny for the information.

The pigeons came home to roost a few days later when Alan received a written message from Earl Ralph abruptly and rudely ordering him to attend immediately at Norfolk. Alan had Osmund pen a polite response ‘I must decline the kind offer of Earl Ralph to meet with me at Norfolk as that is not on my intended itinerary at this time and is of course some considerable distance. My own duties prevent me from accepting, but I am sure that we will meet in the near future either when you travel through the southern part of your earldom, or alternatively in London, where we will no doubt both shortly need to attend as members of the King’s Council’.

The following day another messenger rode in, this time with a much more polite letter from William Bishop of London asking to see Alan ‘on matters of mutual concern at your earliest convenience when you are next in London’.

It was now Wednesday 18th July, and with the warm and dry summer the village moot had decided to commence the harvest several weeks earlier than normal. Men, women and the older children walked the fields cutting the wheat, oats, rye and barley with scythes and tying it into sheaves that were then arranged in stooks at the end of the fields. The sheaves were next taken away for threshing, with the stalks then being placed in barns, made into haystacks or cut as chaff, and the grain stored in sacks in the communal granary. The cattle were allowed to graze the cut stubble. Certain that only sudden and cataclysmic heavy rain, of which there was no sign, could prevent a successful harvest, Alan was satisfied that it was time for a journey to London. If nothing else he needed to order the glass for the windows in the Hall before autumn came.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

LONDON AUGUST 1067

On the journey to London Alan was accompanied by Anne, two maids, Leof, Osmund, ten Wolves and ten huscarles. All the men were mounted and the women travelled in a light cart, and they made a leisurely journey with a halt for the night at Chelmsford. The second day was spent on the road through the Great Forest before they entered London through Aldgate at the east side of the city, travelled through much of the city and noted that the preliminary construction of fortified positions of The Tower, Baynard Castle and Montfichet Tower had been completed, with further work to strengthen their defences underway.

As a man who had spent most of his life in small country villages, with only a few brief years at Rouen and then Paris, and with his time in the former largely spent in the isolation of the Benedictine monastery, Alan was both uncomfortable and excited by being in London. Uncomfortable because he hated the crowding, the streets teeming with people bustling to and fro and the filth from discarded refuse and offensive industries such as tanning and dying. Excited because something was always happening and every stroll through the streets was a new adventure- if you survived it, particularly after dark.

The city proper, the area within the walls, was less than two-thirds of a mile wide along the river by a third of a mile deep from the river to the swamp and farms outside the walls to the north. Large areas of habitation outside the walls straggled along the roads from Westminster to the west and Mile End and Oldford to the east.

Southwark, on the south side of the river, was in Surrey and outside the jurisdiction of the officials in London, with the inevitable result that the buildings were largely ramshackle and there were large numbers of officially permitted brothels called ‘stews’.

The city itself, although crowded, was not in all parts excessively crammed and there were some open areas, particularly close to the Chepe market. There were other areas where land was vacant not by design but by accident as a result of fire. Almost all the buildings in and near the city were of wooden construction and most were thatched. With so many buildings so close together a spilled oil lamp or an unattended fire, whether it be a cooking fire, bread oven or forge, could get out of hand in moments and wreak havoc.

Most of the houses, in some places crammed closely together, were of two, three and sometimes four storeys in height. Many were filthy tenements into which the poor were packed one family to a room with sometimes ten people with barely space to spread a shared straw palliasse on the floor.

On his previous visit Alan had found the people themselves were also different. They were less deferential and more confident and assertive, almost cocky, even in their dealings with customers. Alan, who didn’t see himself as having an over-inflated self-opinion, frankly found it annoying to have a filthy young lad dressed in rags approach him in the streets to try to sell pies or other items and address him in a cheeky manner, almost as an equal. The ‘ladies of the night’ were equally bold in their marketing efforts, even during the day- and even when Alan was accompanied by Anne.

The streets were thronged with people hurrying to and fro. Costermongers selling from their carts. Stall-holders whose stalls blocked the narrow walkways on each side of the streets, causing pedestrians to have to walk on the roadway. In many places stalls were placed opposite each other, creating bottle-necks through which the pedestrians and traffic struggled. Shop owners, many with open-fronted shops and with trestle tables set up to display their wares, were seeking custom but keeping a close eye to ensure that prospective customers or passers-by didn’t purloin their goods. Baker-boys carried trays of pies, breads and sweetmeats on trays supported by a leather strap around their neck. There were touts for all sorts of businesses from taverns to tailors, barbers to ribbon-merchants, with a cacophony of voices as they all called attention to themselves and their goods or services.

Not only the ears and eyes were assaulted, so also was the nose. Sometimes the smells were pleasant, such as when passing a bakery, stalls selling cooked meats or in the Vintry. Most often the smells were offensive, such as on passing the premises of tanners, dyers or fullers, where vats of urine and chemicals gave off rank odours and passers-by paused to make a contribution of urine into pots placed by the footpath; the Fish Market and the Shambles with their stench of spoiled meat, blood and entrails and with rats, cats, curs and crows picking at the noisome heaps; rotten vegetables at the Vegetable Market in Chepe; and the ever-present excrement of people and animals that littered the streets, pot-fulls of night-soil being hurled from upper windows and often striking and miring those walking below.

They finally took rooms at the ‘Fox and Goose’ Inn in Watling Street, just near St Peter’s Church and close to St Paul’s Cathedral in the west of the city. The inn appeared well kept from the outside and Anne was satisfied as to its suitability after a brief inspection. The cathedral bells were ringing Vespers in the evening when Alan had finished his negotiations with the innkeeper to take eight rooms for 28 people, including meals, for a penny per person per a night. He then gave Leof a note to deliver to the St Paul’s Cathedral Minster office, with strict instructions to wait for a reply- and that when he returned he was to take a circuitous route through crowds and alleys to ensure he wasn’t followed. Alan gave him a penny, the first money Leof had ever owned.

Alan’s note was addressed to Bishop William of London, announced his arrival and indicated his availability for the following day, Friday. It was the first time that he had used his new seal-ring given to him by Anne.

As there were still two hours to sunset, Alan and Osmund, accompanied by four huscarles, rode the short distance along the Strand to the Westminster Palace to see if King’s Chancellor Regenbald was in residence. By good fortune he was, and when Alan and Osmund walked into his office the aged prelate rose to clasp forearms before inviting his guests to sit.

Alan had met Regenbald both at the royal coronation and in his subsequent discussions with the king and had a true liking for the old man, together with an appreciation for his perceptiveness, intelligence and quick wit. The cleric had been in charge of Edward’s writing office until appointed by William as Chancellor immediately following the latter’s coronation.

On handing over the bag of rolls of depositions Alan explained the problems being experienced with the Heriot charges in East Anglia in particular and his understanding that the problem was more wide-spread. Osmund gave a quick precis of each of the depositions that they had received from both Suffolk and Essex, and which ones had been referred to the sheriffs for investigation, referring to a summary list that he had drawn up.

Sitting with one leg up on a foot-stool Regenbald apologised for the bout of gout he was presently suffering, which was why he was staying in his chambers in the palace instead of riding home each night. “That and some current domestic discord,” he said pulling a wry face, a reference to the fact that like many English priests Regenbald was married. “Now, this lot is not going to make you any friends here at court at all, and won’t help your future prospects. Even the king is likely to be unhappy that you have raked up this muck. Odo and fitzOsbern are likely to be livid, as it reflects badly on their administration in the absence of the king. Firstly, are you sure you should be presenting them to me and not to the Lords Regent?”

“I’m quite happy handling things this way. Odo of Bayeux is the last person I would want to look at these pleadings. You are the King’s Secretary, the man who handles his correspondence. I want the king to have a look at this correspondence and not just have it quietly buried and forgotten. I expect that by the time the king returns most, if not all, of these complaints will have been favourably resolved by Earl Ralph, Bishop William and Engelric and the blame placed on over-zealous or corrupt servants and minor officials. You and I both know that in fact theft, corruption and extortion are currently running rampant in the kingdom, with the co-Lord Regent Odo of Bayeux being amongst the worst offenders- which in part is why he’s having so much dissent and protest in his own earldom of Kent. The English don’t like people abusing their office at the people’s expense. Some minor corruption is expected, but not blatant robbery and extortion.”

“And what do you hope to obtain?” asked Regenbald thoughtfully, looking over steepled fingers.

“Justice for these specific individuals whose legal rights have been abused. Hopefully a more temperate use of powers and less abuse of powers by the appointed officials. King William took an oath at his coronation that the laws of Edward would be upheld. At the moment it is as if a pack of wolves, Norman and English, are ravaging the country, the middle-thegns, poorer thegns and freemen, for their own benefit. If King William orders taxes are to be levied that is one thing. Private theft and extortion are another matter. The sheriffs need to be put on notice that they are expected to act and not either ignore or participate in financially ruining thousands of Englishmen,” replied Alan.

“Admirable sentiments, if perhaps overly virtuous,” rejoined Regenbald. “I actually meant what do you hope to obtain for yourself?”

Alan looked at him in blank incomprehension for a moment before replying, “Oh, I’m sorry! Of course you’re used to dealing with courtiers who only look to further their own benefit. The short answer is ‘nothing’. King William is likely to be annoyed at me for wasting his time and pointing out his poor choice of appointed officials. He may relish the opportunity to let those officials know that they are under scrutiny and perhaps punish one or two.

“Earl Ralph, the earl of East Anglia where I hold my own lands, will no doubt do whatever he can to make my life and that of my friends as difficult as possible. I don’t expect much trouble from Bishop William or Engelric as I can cause them more trouble than they can cause me. I hold my lands as tenant-in-chief from the king himself. I’m subservient to only one man under God, and I view this as a matter that God has given me to do as I must. William fitzOsbern will be angry with me because he brooks little intervention in what he does and he takes his appointment as co-regent seriously. He’s somewhat puffed up about his own importance and will reject any criticism. Odo will object to any interference in his own program of theft and illegal acquisition.”

Regenbald stroked his chin. “So a man who is honest, ferht and God-fearing, on a quest to protect the unwitting, with no thought of self-benefit- and indeed accepting that his own interests will be harmed.” Alan was not sure if the tone was astonished or ironic.

“I have no political ambitions and am happy with what I hold, which only the king can take from me. I’m sure that King William will not do that, if for no reason other than to use me as a weapon against those he wishes to keep in check,” confirmed Alan.

“You have obviously given this much thought and prayer and I salute your courage. As King’s Chancellor I have no higher office to look forward to and I will support your position. As an Englishman I object to the abuses that are taking place against my fellow-countrymen and I’m glad to see someone from what might be viewed as ‘the other side’ supporting the common folk. You have my regard, my best wishes and whatever assistance I can provide you- as I am Chancellor of England that may be of some assistance in ‘keeping those wolves off your back’. Now, it’s after dark and as the gates of the city will be closed for your return to your inn, I’ll provide you with an escort to ensure that the gates are opened for you. I look forward with expectation to your future involvement in politics in England.”

When Alan and Osmund arrived back at the ‘Fox and Goose’ they found a reply waiting from William, Bishop of London, brought by Leof. The reply, in a clerk’s hand, indicated he should attend at Bishop’s Palace near the cathedral at eleven the next morning. Leof was adamant that when he had returned as darkness was falling there was no way he could have been followed as he had dashed down Watling Street, past the shops in Gutter Lane, down Bread Street and back up Wood Street before sneaking in the back entrance of the inn.

Alan and Anne rose reasonably early at six in the morning the next day, although still two hours after sunrise and the opening of the city gates. It was about a twenty minute very careful walk with Osmund and four huscarles, not now in armour but still carrying swords and a haughty expression that cleared the street for the others following, through the crowded pavements and streets of Chepe Street to Bishopsgate Street.

There they met with the Jews, firstly with Gideon and then with Malachi, completing their financial arrangements quite quickly. Alan asked if they knew of any large houses for sale either within the city walls or along The Strand leading to Westminster. Malachi was of great assistance, saying that it was a suitable time to buy property and that he knew a number of Englishmen under financial pressure as a result of the Heriot who may be prepared to part with their town-houses at modest process, and he would send a list of possible properties the next day.

Back at the ‘Fox and Goose’ Anne was delighted to find an invitation from Edward’s widow Queen Edith, who had been confirmed in her lands and dower by William after his victory, to attend at a soiree that evening.

Alan, Osmund and Leof walked to the lavish apartments of Bishop William of London, part of the complex of St Paul’s Cathedral near Ludgate, arriving a little before the appointed meeting time. They were shown into a small antechamber and kept waiting… and waiting…and waiting. Alan heard the cathedral bells ringing Sext at noon before they were finally invited into Bishop William’s luxurious office. Another man, of average size, middle age and apparently of saturnine temperament sat in the corner of the room.

“Nice of you to see us! I was under the impression that you saw our meeting as of some urgency, but apparently not,” said Alan with his apparently detached voice hiding his annoyance. Osmund and Leof were used to waiting all day for their master’s pleasure, and until recently so had Alan. Now, with his improved station, he expected better manners from anybody except the king.

Neither of the men in the room, both dressed in clerical garb, rose to greet him, or introduce themselves. Without invitation Alan sat at a chair opposite the more richly dressed man and waved Osmund and Leof to a bench set against the wall, the only other seating in the room. “I presume that you are William, Bishop of London?” asked Alan in Norman French to the stoutly built man opposite him. “And who are you?” he asked the man dressed in a simple black cassock.

“Engelric,” was the brief reply.

“Well, it’s good to meet two of the defalcators of the king’s money at the same time. It saves time in the long run. You sent a message saying you wanted to see me, Bishop, I presume it is to discuss your theft? I regret that we have caused both of you to miss the Sext service at noon, but if you had been on time perhaps we could have completed our business in time for us all to attend the service,” said Alan in a calm but deliberately offensive manner, choosing not to use the usual honorifics for the Bishop of London.

Bishop William was clearly disconcerted by this direct approach and replied, “I had thought that it may be of benefit to discuss your allegations, perhaps without your servants…?”

“I have nothing to hide,” replied Alan brusquely. “They stay, or I go! You are quite welcome to have witnesses of your own.” Engelric waved a hand in negation.

“We seem to have started off on the wrong foot, which is unfortunate,” said Engelric in his high-pitched voice. “Would you care for a cup of wine?” After he had poured cups for Alan, the bishop and himself from a jug on a table in the corner of the room and handed them around, Engelric continued suavely, “I understand that you have been making allegations against myself, the good bishop here and Earl Ralph regarding our conduct of our duties in East Anglia, and we would like to overcome any misunderstanding.”

“I have made no allegations,” corrected Alan quietly. “What has happened is that over forty thegns and freemen of Essex and Suffolk have made written complaints addressed to the king and the Curia Regis, which I have agreed to pass along. Those involving allegations of obvious criminal activity, including those against yourself, the bishop and Earl Ralph, I have referred to the sheriffs for their investigation. Some involved threats and extortion that could not be delayed until the king returned. All of them I have also placed in the hands of the King’s Chancellor, who may investigate them in the king’s absence or await his return as he thinks fit. In conjunction with the King’s Regents, the Chancellor is of course the highest official in the land whilst the king is away from the kingdom.”

Alan noted the wince and pained expression on Bishop William’s face when he mentioned the handing of the documents to the Chancellor. Engelric kept a calm face and demeanour. “So what are these allegations against us?”

Alan said to Osmund, also in Norman French to show that the clerk understood what had been said, “Osmund, can you please give a precis of the allegations I have handed to the Chancellor?”

Osmund unrolled a scroll and then spent nearly fifty minutes outlining the cases. Alan then said, “These are the few cases that we have received in a short period of time and have been asked to present to the king,” said Alan. “I’m sure that an examination of your own records, which no doubt the king and Curia will require, will reveal many more cases of abuse, extortion and overcharging, including my own for Wivenhoe. I suggest that you gentlemen, and Earl Ralph- and any other Relief Officers- may wish to review your records to correct any errors that your retainers may have made, but which of course reflect on you. How you will deal with the matters that involve you directly is another matter and for you to decide.”

“What do you want?” asked Bishop William abruptly. Engelric winced and looked away in embarrassment. “How much?” repeated Bishop William.

It took Alan several seconds for him to realise he was being offered a bribe in such a blatant manner. Before he could assemble his thoughts and reply, Engelric smoothly intervened. “What His Grace the Lord Bishop means is that you have of course incurred expense in pursuing the investigation of these false cases that have been brought against us- although if your clerk can provide us with details we will of course examine each instance to ensure that fairness and proper procedures have been followed. I’m sure that, like all of us, you would like some friends in influential places to assist you from time to time with the things you want to achieve. We’ve heard that you are in some financial difficulty yourself and have had to deal with the Jews and we thought that perhaps?100 would be adequate recompense for the time that you have spent on this issue.”

Alan waited a considerable period before he replied, causing Osmund to cast a raised eye in his direction. The delay was to collect his thoughts and regain control of his temper, before he replied, “I thank yourself and Bishop William for your concerns regarding my financial position. Perhaps that may be eased when Bishop William has a chance to examine the Relief amount levied on Wivenhoe, not as a favour to me but to remove the anomaly of the Relief charge being four times the value of the property. That’s just one of many instances of excessive Reliefs being set.

“The remainder of my land is of course not subject to Relief. My clerk will give your clerk a written precis of the inconsistencies and complaints that have come to my attention. I’m certain that on examination you will agree that many, if not all, of these complaints are justified, and equally certain that gentlemen such as yourselves will agree that the use of threats and extortion against poor thegns and freemen is not to be tolerated. Hopefully, this will cause you to carefully examine your records of all your activities in East Anglia, so that any other mistakes or abuses by your officers can be unearthed. I’m sure that the few that I have received are only a small portion of those that need review.

“As for my financial position, I can only say that my honour is not for sale at any price, whether it be?100 or?1,000, or more. I think that we now have an understanding of each other, which you may wish to share with Earl Ralph as he seems to think I should ride to Norfolk to meet with him- which I have no intention of doing. Now I thank you for your time and regret that you missed the noon-day service because of our meeting. I’m sure that your brothers will be expecting you in the refectory shortly for the mid-day meal.” Engelric and Bishop William would of course dine much more luxuriously than the provender at the table of the abbey refectory, but Alan felt there was no need to be unnecessarily rude- he was only rude where necessary- and he stood to take his leave with a promise for Osmund to have a summary of the depositions delivered next morning.

After a circuitous walk and the engagement of some men of the rougher sort outside a tavern to delay the men the bishop had sent to follow them, they arrived back at the ‘Fox and Goose’. Osmund, who had carefully been taking in the conversation verbatim, went to his room with a jug of ale and plate of food to record the conversation that had occurred whilst it was still fresh in his mind. Alan gave a summary to Anne, who expressed her thrills and outrages at the various twists and turns of the conversation as they were related to her.

In honour of Queen Edith’s soiree Anne decided that Alan should attend at a professional barbershop for a proper shave and haircut, instructing him not to have his hair shaved at the back in the Norman fashion and over-riding Alan’s objection that this was done as a matter of practicality as the chain mail coif of the hauberk caught the hair that was not protected by the padded cap worn under the helmet. “You’re unlikely to do any fighting for some time and you aren’t such a baby that a few pulled hairs should make any difference to you,” she scoffed. “To have the back of your head shaved in the Norman fashion makes it obvious to all that you are a Frank. I think you’d look dashing with longer hair and a beard, in the Saxon style!”

Anne also wanted to wear the matching gold coloured clothing, but the freshly-shaved and barbered Alan felt it impolitic to appear too ostentatious on their first journey to the city, like country black-birds pretending to be peacocks. He felt they should stay in the background until they had developed good relations with the Norman barons, many of whom were in Normandy with King William. Even though Queen Edith was seen as a strong supporter of the new king and had assisted him in gaining the submission of the West Saxon lands immediately after Hastings, it may not be wise to have better relations with the English nobility than that of the Normans.

Logic won out and Anne wore a tight-fitting dress of mid-green velvet, low but not immodestly cut at the front, and a similar coloured and highly-embroidered shawl completed the obligatory covering of the hair- a fashion that Alan always found disappointing as it prevented Anne showing off her long and lustrous auburn hair. Alan wore a tunic of black linen embroidered with silver, a tooled black leather belt with silver buckle, plain black hose and boots, with his head uncovered, revealing his red hair flowed almost to his collar. As it was a social occasion he was unarmed other than the small knife at his belt that he would use for eating- indeed Anne with the larger seax knife that denoted her position as a freewoman was better armed than he was. Like all the guests they brought two armed retainers, who left their swords at the door and were shown into a separate Hall to await the pleasure of their betters.

Queen Edith’s townhouse on the Strand was very large. They arrived just after the appointed starting time of an hour before Compline and entered the house forecourt as the sun was setting behind Westminster Abbey. The house backed onto the Thames and being upstream of the city the water flowing past was clean and unpolluted. Ducks and swans swam close to the riverbank and children were splashing and playing at the water’s edge.

The Hall that the doorman showed them into was quite large without being overly so. It was thirty paces by forty, well lit with lamps attached to sconces and with fresh rushes on the floor. Several tables had been placed against one wall and chairs and benches lined the other walls. When they arrived there were about a dozen other guests present and Queen Edith was just entering through another door with an arm linked with Eadnoth, the Steward of her late husband, who was a tall and elderly man. The queen was of medium height, 38 years of age and still showed the beauty of her youth. She was soberly dressed in dark red, heavily embroidered with gold. Alan was glad that Anne had not worn her gold dress as it would not have done for a simple country girl to have outshone her noble host.

Alan noticed Chancellor Regenbald standing with a somewhat flashily-dressed dark-haired woman of about 40 on his arm, and a boldly-dressed man of about the same age with long blond hair and a flowing moustache. Presuming on his acquaintance with Regenbald, Alan walked across the Hall towards him with Anne at his side, hand on his arm, and he introduced her to Regenbald. The Chancellor in turned introduced the other woman as Aethelu, his current wife, and the man as Cynebeald, his son by his first marriage. He pointed out his daughter Swanhild, who was talking animatedly in an adjoining group and then took Alan and Anne to that group, made introductions and asked Swanhild to take care of them for the evening as they were new to the city and had few friends.

Swanhild, a tall blond and shapely woman of about thirty-five, took the duty in good cheer and she and Anne were soon chatting together like old friends as she introduced the couple around and made a point to introduce Anne to a number of young women of around Anne’s own age.

Alan noted something peculiar about the group. There were women of all ages from 16 to 60 and many men over 40. Other than two or three young clerics in their distinctive monk’s garb and tonsures, there were barely a handful of men of fighting age. As he chatted with them he found that most of these few had been wounded at Stamford Bridge, or had otherwise been fortunate enough to miss the battle of Hastings by being overseas or on the western border fighting the Welsh. There were probably two women for every man present.

The side-tables had been filled with plates of finger-food. Eggs stuffed with fish roe; smoked salmon on toast; pickled herring on rye-bread; mini-mushroom pastries; quiche; pork pies; chicken pasties; small sausage rolls; small meat pies; sage and parsley tarts; mushrooms stuffed with cheese; Lorenz pies with minced meat, pine nuts, currents and cottage cheese gilded with gold leaf. This was the first time that either Alan or Anne had eaten gold. Available sauces in separate jugs were melted spiced cheese sauce, carmeline sauce, garlic with walnuts and onions, jaunce, mustard and several types of chutney.

A separate table carried platters of small cakes, various sweet fruit tarts, custard tarts, fried almond pastries with honey and half a dozen different fried or baked pastries coated with sugar. There were platters of a dozen types of cheeses from soft Brie, Neufchatel, Roquefort, Gorgonzola and Emmenthal to the harder cheeses including Cheddar, Cheshire, Parmigiano and Romano.

The guests helped themselves, placing the morsels of food on small wooden plates and eating with their fingers as they chatted. Most of the ladies were drinking mead or fruit juices, either alcoholic or non- alcoholic, or sweet white wine. The men drank either pints of ale or cups of fine red wines from the Loire or Bordeaux. Harp and lute players were quietly playing music in the background.

Eventually Regenbald collected Alan and Anne and took them to the small group where Queen Edith was sitting with half a dozen others and introduced them.

“Anne, my dear, so nice to meet you!” said the Queen. “We so rarely see new faces these days. Such a beautiful and, if I hear correctly, literate young lady. And Sir Alan, I do believe you are the first Norman to attend one of my soirees. It’s so hard to find a Norman noble who is literate and not totally consumed by making war!”

“It’s a hard life to train to be a knight, Your Grace,” replied Alan. “Training as a warrior begins at eight years of age and leaves little time for learning social graces or book learning. I had a more diverse childhood and adolescence before I became a soldier, and I’m glad finally to have the time to read almost as much as I would like. I must say that I prefer the iambic meter of Greek poetry to the alliterative of English poetry. In some of the English poetry I have read, which is not a great deal, I have found the story hard to follow. The Dream of the Rood for example, where I found the second part, where the Cross tells its own story, was difficult to plod through. Andreas is a good, enjoyable story and well-told. I’ve only recently started to study English poetry of course.”

“You read English? That must be unique amongst your nobles,” said Edith with a tilt of her head.

“And he writes it, as well of course Latin and French, and also Attic Greek,” added Anne. “Alan has his own library and has been giving me books as presents.”

“I would love the opportunity to learn Arabic and read some of their great works, particularly on medical sciences, but that would take years and require me to travel to the distant lands of the Moors. Now with the responsibilities of wife and land that is no longer possible,” said Alan wistfully.

“And your marriage. Presumably arranged by your lord?” asked the Queen.

Alan took Anne’s small hand in his and replied, “No, it is a love match. I found an injured creature in my forest and took her home to cure. I fell in love immediately, but it took some time and effort for her to make her choice. She’s not the most biddable of women,” he concluded with a quick look at her out of the corner of his eye.

“Ah, yes, the Battle of Wivenhoe. My thegn at Wix, Adamnan, has told me about that, although he was not present of course. From what I hear 400 untrained fyrdmen under your leadership defeated 800 trained Danish warriors with minimal casualties to themselves, and you invoked God to rain fire from the skies to destroy your enemies. And then you let the thegns of the Hundred receive the head-money from the sale of the slaves, while at the same time rescuing hundreds of English captives from a life of slavery. The sort of thing that poems and sagas are written about!” said the Queen.

“It wasn’t quite like that, Your Grace. Numbers were nearly even. I had been training the fyrdmen from my own estates and they were quite useful by then. And we had the advantage of surprise and ambush.”

“And fire?” asked Eadnoth.

“And fire,” confirmed Anne. Neither she nor Alan elaborated. That was an advantage that they wanted to keep to themselves in case of future need.

“And now he has become the champion of the poor oppressed English thegn and freeman, opposing the tyranny of corrupt officials including the earl of East Anglia!” interjected Regenbald, who then went on to explain the reason for Alan’s current journey to London.

“That will hardly make you popular with the Normans,” commented the Queen.

“Well, technically all three are English,” replied Alan.

“Technically, my foot! Two are French and you’ve pointed out the abuse that Normans all over the south of England are engaging in. You intend to follow this through?” demanded the Queen.

“With a formal complaint to the Curia Regis when the king returns, if necessary,” replied Alan. “But I doubt that will be necessary. I expect the complaints will be resolved as ‘administrative errors’ by junior officials within the next few weeks and one or two minions may be punished as examples. If it means that these three officials, and those in the other shires, take their duties more seriously and are less outrageous in their abuses, I’ll have achieved what I set out to do. I may be unpopular with the Normans, but I doubt that anything will come of it. I certainly don’t expect any thanks from King William.”

After a pause the Queen said, “I envy you your love match. It’s something that few achieve, especially nobles- and you are now of the nobility. In Edward’s time you would have been called a King’s Thegn. My own marriage was a loveless thing. Edward married me when I was 16 and Edward was 42. The Witengemot insisted that the king marry and produce an heir and deemed me, the daughter of Godwin, the strongest and best of the earls, as most suitable.

“The English, or at least the people of Wessex, wanted and still want a king who can claim descent from the great King Alfred. All his descents were killed or went into exile when Cnut became king. Edward was the son of Ethelred and went into exile in Normandy. His brother Alfred returned to England in 1036 after the death of Cnut, but was blinded and soon died. That is a deed oft ascribed to my father, but it was done by others at the behest of the sons of Cnut.

“My father arranged the return of Edward in ’41 and when Harthacanute died Edward was crowned. That was two years before our marriage. Edward was a quiet, pious and kindly man, but quite erratic- with no liking for war and little aptitude for administration. After 25 years of exile in Normandy he was at least half-Norman and had many Norman ways and friends, which didn’t endear him to my father or the people. He had little interest in ruling and effectively my father ran the country, except for the year when he was forced into exile and Edward sent me to the abbey of Wherwell. Godwin returned a year later and died soon after in ’53, when Harold took over the administration of the kingdom.

“Duke William visited in ’51 when t duke was 23 years of age, while my family was in exile. The line of Alfred was weak and the few princes had died young with no children, except another Edward, a son of Edmund Ironside. He was sent into exile and had a son Edgar, the current Aetheling. When it became obvious there would be no heir from my union with Edward, the Witengemot searched and found Edward, known as ‘The Exile’ and persuaded him to return to England from Hungary- and I understand it took some considerable persuasion as he saw himself as Hungarian. Like most of his line he died young, leaving Edgar the sole remaining prince of the line of Alfred. Edward took the boy in and treated him as his natural heir. However, Edward was very quick with his promises of who he intended should succeed him, giving them to all and sundry.

“The current situation is the fault of my late husband’s refusal to bed me and produce heirs, because of his hatred of my father. I was willing enough, out of duty not love, but he preferred celibacy to security of the realm. Had we had a son soon after we were married, he would now be 22 or so and would have been elected last year as king instead of Harold. Harold was not of the royal blood and would not have been chosen had there been any other realistic choice- the Aetheling was just 13. Indeed the Norman invasion would not have occurred as the alleged promise of kingship would never have been made. Edward was weak, lax and easily manipulated, more concerned about the state of his soul than the state of his kingdom.

“There are only four noble families in England. The houses of Wessex, Bamburgh, Leofric and Siward. With Harold dead, Gyrth would have made a good king and been able to organise a defence of the realm, but he also fell at Hastings. Edgar and Morcar are little more than children, with no experience. Waltheof is the same.

“It’s been a bitter year for my mother Gytha and myself. We’ve seen four of the five sons of Godwin die within a year; Tostig betrayed his people and fought for the Norwegians against his brothers and was killed at Stamford Bridge; Harold, Gyrth and Leofwine were killed at Hastings. Only Wulfnoth remains, and he’s been a captive of William’s since Edward delivered him up to William fifteen years ago.

“So that is why, after my brothers died, I supported William, and still do so. Whatever the cost that may be suffered by my people, it’s less than would be the cost of opposing him- should the Aetheling’s party ever have the guts to recommend a single course of action and stop thinking of their own advantage. England is in a state of paralysis. It is as powerless to defend itself against William and his Normans as a flock of sheep against a pack of wolves. We must survive and salvage what we can.

“One change I’m glad was made was Esgar the Staller, who was until recently the sheriff of Middlesex. He’s a slippery snake of a man. He fought against William at Hastings, then returned to London and organised its temporary defiance against William, but then turned up with the others at Berkhampstead to make his submission, apparently expecting to be able to retain his position. William has retained quite a few of the officeholders under Edward and Harold, but whoever advised him on this point did well. Esgar was both corrupt and untrustworthy.

“As for me, I have had enough of these troubled times and I’ll soon retire to the nunnery at Wilton, where my friend Godgifu is the abbess. I retain, and will retain, the lands that were my dower for my marriage. How I will leave them in my Will I do not yet know. I’ll tell my thegn at Wix, Adamnan, to follow your lead in all things in Tendring Hundred.”

Alan was thoughtful about how personalities and the effects of history influence the present.

After a moment Swanhild asked Alan, “What kind of man is William? I hear that you have met him and had dealings with him.”

After a moment’s pause Alan replied, “He’s hard- as hard as iron and quite ruthless. Meticulous; he plans and considers everything in detail. Autocratic and unable to accept any criticism or lack of loyalty once sworn. His will is law. Suspicious- remember his past. There were many attempts to murder him as a child and his guardians had to keep moving him to ensure his safety. One was killed in William’s own chamber as he sought to protect him.

“From the age of 19 he’s dealt with rebellion within Normandy and invasion by France, both of which he overcame. His father Robert died when William was seven. He was a bastard son and that is something about which, while he acknowledges, he is sensitive of and will not allow others to mention in a derisory manner. Not because he is ashamed of that fact, but because he sees such comments as showing contempt for his current position and what he has achieved. He has great pride in what he has achieved, both in Normandy and England, and rightly so. He’s a superb general and a good administrator. He’s very intelligent. Although not well-lettered, he can read and write both Latin and Norman French, but is no scholar. He’ll listen to advice before he makes a decision, but not afterwards.

“He’s personally pious and I believe he intends to keep the oaths he swore at his coronation- if the English keep their oaths. He rules with an iron hand, rewards loyalty even when those receiving the rewards may not be worthy. That means that much of the land has, and will be, parcelled out and given to his friends and supporters.

“As I’m amongst friends tonight, I can instance his half-brother Odo of Bayeux who was appointed as a bishop at the age of 14. That’s not usually an age by which you can have shown sufficient devotion to God and sufficient learning to be elevated to such office. Another is Geoffrey Bishop of Coutances. Both are more used to leading troops into battle than leading a religious service. Odo is using his position as co-regent in William’s absence to enrich himself.

“William punishes disloyalty severely. He’s a complex man, but one who possesses the three most important characteristics of a king. Strength; intelligence; heirs. He has three sons.”

Edith nodded her agreement of this assessment.

“Perhaps the ending of the war of the Angevin succession and being confronted by Fulk, the new Count of Anjou, will give William something else to occupy his time. I believe that Fulk intends to contest William’s claim and power in Maine,” commented Eadnoth. “How would William react to an uprising amongst the English?” he continued.

“I believe that Edward had a deathbed dream that a year and a day after his death devils would come through the land with fire and sword and war?” said Alan. Queen Edith nodded. “Many see that as already happening, with the Normans being the devils. If there was a revolt, or serious opposition to William, that dream will come true and the devils of war will lay waste any part of England that opposes William’s will. I pray to God that the Aetheling’s party do nothing stupid and maintain their sworn loyalty, or there will be a blood-bath like nothing England has seen before.”

On that sombre note Queen Edith rose and announced that the highlight of the evening, a recitation of the saga of ‘The Battle of Maldon’ as a remembrance of the days of English greatness, would now be given.

An old bard, well dressed and with long white hair, moustache and beard entered accompanied by a younger man carrying a harp. The guests took seats around the room and, with a strum of the harp, the old man began the story, reciting from memory.

Byrhtnoth was an ealdorman of Essex who in 991 intercepted a Viking raiding force led by Olaf Tryggvason just outside Maldon. The Vikings had landed on an island which at ebb tide was joined to the mainland only by a narrow land bridge of sand and mud. The bard described Byrhtnoth’s great height, his strength despite his age of nearly sixty. Byrhtnoth’s forces were outnumbered and the levy comprised mainly of farmers, with the bard describing how Byrhtnoth had to teach them to hold weapons and stand in line of battle.

The hero’s speeches of patriotism and honour were quoted at length. The might of the Viking raiding force at over 2,000, and their prowess as warriors, were also recited at length. The Viking Olaf addressed the Saxons, promising to sail away if he was paid with gold and armour from the lord. Byrhtnoth eloquently refused. As Olaf’s men could not force their way across the narrow land-bridge guarded by the Saxons he sent word asking Byrhtnoth to allow his warriors onto the shore. Byrhtnoth, out of pride or recklessness, agreed. The subsequent battle was described virtually blow by blow, with the Vikings overwhelming the Saxons and Byrhtnoth himself being killed, apparently cut down while being attacked by three Vikings at once. The saga drew to a close with a flourish of patriotic bravery and self-sacrifice.

There was great applause and a crowd gathered around the bard to express their appreciation. Alan and Anne rose from their seats and were standing quite close to Queen Edith and Eadnoth. “I noticed that you were squirming around and being uncomfortable during the recitation,” commented Anne.

At that moment Regenbald’s son Cynebeald and another Englishman of about Alan’s own age, who had previously been introduced to Alan as being named Wigstan came up. Wigstan clapped Alan on the shoulder and asked, “What did you think of that performance?”

Alan paused for a moment’s reflection before saying, “As a theatrical performance, I must say that the bard is a master of his craft. He told the story for over an hour without a pause other than to sip ale, which he also built into the presentation. As I mentioned before to Queen Edith, I’m personally not overly fond of the alliterative style. I find the emphasis in each part of each line distracting from the story, and the use of metaphors or kennings for the sake of maintaining form a sign of poor composition. My preference is for the classical style of the Greeks and Romans.

“If your reference was to the content of the ballad, I would have to say that this is one of very few heroic English poems or sagas. What I say next will probably be offensive to you, but is the truth.” Alan was aware that Queen Edith and her small group of hangers-on had turned to listen to the conversation. “Most of the sagas recited here in England are of Norse origin. ‘Beowulf’; ‘The Fight at Finnburgh’; several others.

“The Battle of Maldon is an interesting story and one of the few English sagas. But it is a story of a lost battle. Byrhtnoth threw away his one advantage that could keep his village or town secure. His duty was to protect Maldon. When he lost, although not mentioned in the saga, the town would have been pillaged and burned. The old and the young children would have been slaughtered. The women raped and ravished, and together the surviving young men and women would have been carried away to slavery in Norway.

“A battle won is a terrible thing. I have experience of that. I imagine that a battle lost would be many times worse, not least because of the effect on the local people. Again, at the risk of offending you, there are no English sagas of victories won, because you always lose. In the last 200 years, excluding the Danish kings, I could count on the fingers of one hand those Saxon kings who understood war and who could adequately protect your lands. In fact since Alfred the Great I could probably only mention Edmund Ironside, who died young after only eight months as king, and Harold Godwinson, who was king for a similar period, who had any idea how to defend the country. Instead you choose to buy off the invaders, which worked sometimes, but at what cost?”

Queen Edith interjected quietly but forcefully, “The last year it was paid, in ’51, the Danegeld cost?82,500.”

Alan nodded and continued. “?82,500 a year. That is an amount that is simply beyond comprehension. It would have paid for a lot of soldiers and ships- an army and a navy that could defend England. The fact is that you English have chosen not to defend yourselves. It was easier to pay the enemy off. That was not the attitude of Byrhtnoth, who preferred to fight to the death. Other lands have chosen to become military in their economy and outlook. England has chosen not to do so, and that is why, over the last few hundred years, those countries that see being a warrior as an honourable occupation and who are prepared to move and expand have seen England as a ‘soft’ target- because you lack the will to defend yourselves.

“Vikings, Danes and now Normans have invaded and taken over your country. If and when you take defence seriously and are prepared to accept new methods of warfare instead of those that are 200 years out of date, you may be able to adequately defend yourselves. Individually your warriors are as brave and capable as any in the world. What they lack is discipline, training and leadership. Vikings, now Norwegians, Danes and Normans see warfare as a way of life, something to be embraced and encouraged. You English react to this, but invariably lose because your army is a levy that does not know how to fight. I’m addressing that problem in Tendring Hundred. England cannot survive unless that approach is adopted generally, although I am sure that the Norman lords have no intention of training their English minions in war as they will be afraid that this will be used against them.”

There was the sound of slow applause from one person, Queen Edith. “I wondered if I was being too subtle having Aelfric recite The Battle of Maldon, intending to have people draw a connection with the battles of last year, except that Harold wasn’t as stupid as Byrhtnoth and gave away no advantages. There are a number of men here who are, or have been, professional warriors. The only person here who seems to have heard my intended message is a foreigner who fought on the other side. All the rest of you were carried away unthinkingly by the patriotism and heroism of the story. The real story is that you only fight a battle you can win and there is no heroism in losing or death. Ask Edith Swan-Neck what the battlefield of Hastings looked like the next day, and how her lover was so disfigured by his wounds that she could only recognise him by a tattoo. Could Harold have won at Hastings?” she asked Alan.

“Definitely! The outcome was in doubt right until Harold fell. Until that moment the English could have won,” replied Alan. “Even then, had Leofwine or Gyrth still been alive to command the army, they could have either won or forced a draw and continued the fight- which with more English warriors arriving was all that the English had to do. William had to win, and win that day, or the invasion was lost. Even after Harold fell the Royal Huscarles, the thegns and their huscarles fought on… and on… and on. They had to be killed to the last man. The killing was still going on when it was fully dark. We Normans could not believe their braveness or stubbornness,” replied Alan.

“Better to be dead than run and disgraced. They also fought to the last at Maldon. And Harold had told them to stand and fight,” said Regenbald.

“Their braveness, stubbornness… and their stupidity,” replied Edith. “That is precisely my point and the point I sought to make in tonight’s saga. It’s because of that pride 2,000 manor halls have lost their thegns, men who could have lived and continue to lead the English, who will now be ruled by Normans. Any chance of effective English resistance died with them. By their pride they failed their villages and their country. Had those professional warriors survived along with just one of our generals we could have continued to resist. Instead England chose suicide that evening,” said Queen Edith harshly.

“Now, if you ladies and gentlemen will excuse me, I think that it’s time to retire,” she continued. “There will be an escort of guards to accompany you to Ludgate and I have arranged with the captain of the guard to have the gate opened to admit those of you who are residing in the city. Unless you wish to spend the night here, I suggest you make ready to leave shortly.” With a regal nod Queen Edith strode from the chamber.

The following morning Alan and Anne examined the list of properties that Malachi had as promised sent around to them, a dozen in all. Being a Sunday, the 22nd of July, there was little else to do after attending Mass at the nearby St Peter’s Church and they wandered around the city looking at each house from the street.

Feeling much safer with Bishop William and Engelric now knowing that the depositions had been delivered to the Chancellor, Alan was content to walk abroad with just two bodyguards as security against the usual cut-throats that inhabited every city.

Despite having a population of some 10,000 crammed within the city walls, with the closure of the shops and markets for Sunday the city was surprisingly lacking in hustle and bustle and the people who still thronged the streets moved more slowly and with less urgency. As they knew Jews work on Sundays, that afternoon they sent Leof to Malachi with a list of the eight houses they wished to inspect, suggesting Tuesday as being suitable. That evening Malachi sent a note in reply confirming that one of his retainers who was familiar with the properties would arrive at eight in the morning on that day to conduct them to the various properties.

The next morning, Monday, Anne and Alan visited the two glassmakers in the city, both workshops being near each other on Ropery Street near the river.

The use of glass was rare and it was explained to them that there were only three glassmakers in England, two in London and one in York. Alan explained their needs. Four large windows each about six feet high by four feet wide for one side of the Hall, eight smaller windows about four feet square, four for the opposite side of the Hall above the height of the guest rooms and four for the private rooms at the end of the Hall. Finally they needed eleven small windows about two feet by one foot for the ten guest rooms and the bathing room.

The transparency of the glass was not of particular concern as the purchase was for the purpose of allowing in light, not beautiful creations like the stained glass windows that both workshops had under manufacture. They settled on a price with a master-glassmaker from Paris named Renier, an elderly man who had migrated to England ten years before and whose broad-sheet glass was of higher quality than that of the other workshop, which Renier described as being operated by a former employee.

They watched intrigued as Renier by way of demonstration heated a mass of glass in the first furnace and blew it into an elongated shape with a blow-pipe. He then reheated it several times in the second furnace and then, while the glass was still hot, cut off both ends before cutting the resulting cylinder with shears and flattened the sheet onto a heated iron plate and then allowed the glass to slowly anneal in the third and coolest furnace to avoid it cracking.

Renier explained that the resulting piece of glass would be about one foot square after being trimmed, and that the windows would need to be made of a number of panes fitted into a wooden frame, which could then be opened or closed depending on the wish of the owner to admit or exclude outside air. On discussion with Renier Alan and Anne decided that the slightly greenish soda-glass would be acceptable, being the cheaper alternative both because of the materials and the greater ease of handling at lower temperatures.

Renier accepted Alan’s measurements and the piece of knotted cord on which they had been made, but specified that he would send an apprentice to take final measurements before the project began. The apprentice would accompany them on the journey home, and departure was arranged for Friday the 27th July. Delivery and installation was promised within six weeks and Alan paid a fifty percent deposit to seal the bargain.

They also arranged for a sheet-metal worker from Walbrook Street to travel to Thorrington and finally fix the problem of the leaking chimney.

****

Promptly at eight in the morning on Tuesday a young man in his early twenties, whose clothing and very appearance were those of the arch-typical Jew, presented himself at the ‘Fox and Goose’, advised that his name was Joshua and took them to the houses that were of interest, methodically from west to east, beginning at The Strand approximately a mile west of the city walls at Ludgate, Holebourn Bridge outside Newgate, then into the City to Coleman Street, Broad Street (where they had a meal at an inn, carefully avoiding ordering pork), then on to Bishopsgate Street and Harp Lane before swinging back to the west and visiting Friday Street and Carter Lane and so back to the ‘Fox and Goose’ at about six in the evening. There Joshua left them with encouragement to visit Malachi the following day and an assurance his master would be available all day.

Footsore from walking, Alan and Anne sat in the inn Commons to eat and drink, sharing a trencher and ordering meat pottage, pork and egg pie, spinach tart, spiced chicken stew and an apple pie with cream.

They discussed the relative merits of living inside and outside the city. Convenience, closeness to markets, the nearness to the palace at Westminster of the properties outside the city walls, their mutual dislike of the crowdedness and filth of the city and the effect that the shortness of the winter days would have on the opening and closing times of the city gates. In winter the gates would be open for less than eight hours a day.

Eventually they decided that they were most likely to be out of the city when the gates closed and that the house at Holebourn Bridge, just outside Newgate, offered the best compromise of location, size, features and cost. It was, like almost all of the houses in the city, of wooden construction and relatively elderly, requiring some repair. It had six bedrooms, a large Hall, Solar, servants’ quarters in the attic, stabling for a dozen horses and a large out-house capable of conversion into guards’ quarters. Anne made the comment that all the houses they had inspected had been vacant of their owners, but with most necessary staff present- as if Malachi had already foreclosed on the properties.

Next morning Anne insisted that they not hurry down to Malachi’s chambers, but keep him waiting so as not to seem to anxious to seal a bargain. She decided instead to go shopping and requested Alan’s presence and that of six guards.

It was that morning that Alan found something he detested about Anne. He hated going shopping with her. His idea of shopping was to know what you wanted, find it, bargain an agreed price and leave.

In London Anne was in a shopper’s heaven. Entire streets were devoted to the selling of single types of product. This morning she was, for some reason, seeking ironmongery, and the additional guards were there to be used as pack-animals. She started at one end of the row of shops and carefully examined iron and copper cooking pots and pans, cooking utensils and a whole range of items that Alan had no idea as to what they were. From time to time she would ask his opinion, which she invariably ignored.

After an hour, being driven insane by her shopping methods, as she returned to shops previously visited and like a true merchant’s daughter began to bargain down to the farthing, Alan discovered the secret to going shopping with a woman. Stand there, nod occasionally, detach the brain and think of something else.

Eventually, now down to two guards as the other four had been dispatched back to the ‘Fox and Goose’ weighed down with purchases, she decided that it was time to have a meal and then visit Malachi in his chambers.

It was early afternoon, about an hour before Nones, when they arrived at Malachi’s office and were ushered in virtually immediately. Their host poured them an excellent wine into wonderful ruby-coloured glasses. The glassware was imported from the Levant, he commented.

Anne asked if Malachi was aware of any other properties for sale and expressed some interest in the house at Holebourn Bridge, seeking the asking price.?20 said Malachi, immediately beginning a selling spiel about the spaciousness of the property, its excellent location, stabling, strong construction and so on.

Anne responded with concerns about is age, pointing out at length the extent of repair worked needed, the rising damp, dry rot, need for the roof to be re-thatched, repainting and the need for substantial alterations to meet their needs.

Malachi had a list of tradesmen who did excellent work at modest prices, the quality of whose work he could personally attest. Anne pointed out that for?20 they could buy a manor in Middlesex within five miles of the City at Chelsea or Kensington, with two or three hides of land, which would be just as convenient for attending at Westminster and which would actually produce an income instead of merely being an operating expense.

Alan hadn’t thought of that before and was genuinely keen on the idea, saying that if he visited those villages tomorrow he was sure that a visit to the local tavern in each village would produce the names of a number of land owners who had the right of sake and soke and who couldn’t afford to pay the Heriot and needed an urgent sale.

Anne thought that was an excellent idea and suggested to Malachi that they meet on Friday, before the Jewish Sabbath commenced in the evening, to discuss whether they still had any interest in the Holebourn Bridge property.

Seeing what he had thought to be a certain sale evaporating before his eyes, Malachi gritted his teeth and said that the lowest he could go would be?12 and at that price the owner would be losing money. Anne had Malachi confirm that, although outside the city walls, the property was classified as part of the city and that no Heriot was outstanding or payable on it, and then accepted the offer, instructing Malachi to have his lawyer draw up the necessary deeds and that the Heriot clause was to be included in the deed- which was something else that Alan had not considered. Anne collected the list of tradesmen from Malachi and they left the thoroughly crestfallen Jew in his office after making arrangements to meet at Sext the next day to complete the documentation and finalise payment.

Back at the ‘Fox and Goose’ Anne took Alan upstairs and made fierce love to him, thoroughly roused by her success. As they lay entwined afterwards Alan asked, “Why not Chelsea or Kensington?”

“Because, my love, any of our London friends would expect to be able to invite themselves along whenever they felt like it and use it as a hunting lodge. If you want any time to yourself you have to be either in the City or at least half a day’s ride away,” she replied in a lecturing voice as she fondled him into hardness for preparation for another bout. When they eventually rose, ready and ravenous for the evening meal, Anne sent Leof off to Renier the glassmaker to arrange a one week delay in their departure, to Friday the 3rd of August.

Next morning, Thursday, Anne spent in Threadneedle Street with Alan and four huscarles, examining ribbons, sewing threads and bolts of cloth, items of haberdashery, hats, and lace kerchiefs to cover her hair. At least the parcels sent back to the inn this morning were much smaller and lighter. Both that day and the previous day Alan had found several shops in which he was interested. Book copiers, apothecaries and a shop that dealt in specialised instruments suitable for surgery. Specialist saws, scalpels, surgical spoons and hooks, clamps, retractors and the like, apparently imported from Iberia. Anne wasn’t interested and wandered out after a few minutes, making Alan realise that he’d have to arrange his own shopping expedition.

At noon they met with Malachi and his lawyer. Alan and Anne both carefully checked through the deeds of the house at Holebourn Bridge, going back to its original grant from the Crown and the current deed, all written in English, including the clause that no Heriot was outstanding or payable on it and the standard clause that the vendor, an Englishman named Ealdean from Croyden in Surrey, knew of no defects that had not been disclosed. Ealdean had already signed and sealed the deed, properly witnessed by a priest, so presumably Ealdean had either been somewhere closer than Croyden or had been sent for last night. All was in order and Alan and Anne signed the authority for Malachi to debit their account by the sum of?12 and Malachi produced a receipt signed by Ealdean, again witnessed, for that amount.

Business transacted, they returned to the ‘Fox and Goose’ and sent Leof and two of the huscarles on errands to the carpenter, bricklayer and thatcher recommended by Malachi with instructions to the tradesmen to meet them at the house at Holebourn Bridge at Prime early the following morning. They then walked the half-mile to their new house to introduce themselves to the servants and conduct interviews.

They had noticed on their previous visit that the house had been kept reasonably clean and they had bought it fully furnished. It had a butler of about 30 years of age, a cleaning maid of about 15, a stableboy of about 12 and a female cook of about 35. The butler’s name was Aikin and had been with the previous owners for the five years they had owned the house. The maid was his daughter Aidith and the stableboy his son Tiw. They shared one room in the servants’ quarters in the attic. The cook was a fat and bad-tempered woman called Frithswith who lived with her family in the city.

Anne said, “You’re each employed on for a trial period of one week. Aitkin get some good wine and ale for a dozen hungry men. Frithswith, do the same for food- if you want to keep your job you’d better make certain you show off your cooking skills for the next week. Aitkin, order firewood for the kitchen and the fire for winter and make sure it’s stored in a dry place. Get hay and oats for a dozen horses for a week. Tiw can muck out the horses and the men can look after them this time. After this visit, if you are retained, when we are in residence you can hire an extra stable hand, a serving maid and a scullery maid.

“Aidith, it looks as if you know your job as you’ve been keeping the place tidy. I have my own personal maid and will usually have a second maid. They can help with the work around the house. Aidith, you move into your own room in the attic. It’s not fitting for you to be sharing a room with your brother and father. Air all the rooms, particularly the bedrooms and the beds. Get some men to remove all the old rushes on the floor and scatter new ones.

“Aitkin, get the rat-catcher in- today. I’ll order linen and have it delivered here tomorrow for when we move in. Aidith, there will be ten huscarles, all young and full of their own self-importance. They’ll be told to leave you alone and it is up to you to repeat that to them if one of them gropes you without your permission. If they do so, you tell me. You aren’t employed to put up with that and I want to hear of any problems. Whether we retain any of you depends on how you perform this week, so I expect you all to be at your best.”

The tradesmen were present on time next morning. Anne had each of them spend the morning taking a full inventory of the work to be done on the house, including wood to be replaced because of dry rot, weathering or insect attack, brickwork needing attention and the whole of the building to be painted inside and out. Anne and the carpenter sketched out plans to convert the outhouse into a barracks for a dozen men. Then Anne returned to the City to buy mattresses, bed linen, towels, drapes and those items the previous owners had removed, including ordering a large bed to be made for the main bedchamber by a cabinet-maker in Wood Street, extra storage boxes, benches, tables and chairs.

The following morning the tradesmen were back and they provided detailed specifications of the work they proposed be done. This Anne and Alan adjusted to remove some work they felt was unnecessary, and prices were agreed. Half was to be paid on commencement on Friday 3rd August and the balance on completion, to be no later than All Saints Day on 1st November when Alan and Anne intended to return.

The horses were led into the stables by the huscarles, to the great excitement of Tiw, who clearly loved the animals and spent all his time fussing over them. A series of carts drew up making deliveries and Anne spent the afternoon making payments from the cash that they had withdrawn from Gideon’s office. By evening, when they had settled in, the house had been changed from being semi-derelict into something with some degree of vibrancy. Anne was sure that when they returned in three months that the property would be virtually unrecognisable.

****

Anne spent a large part of the next week shopping. Alan spent a morning going through three apothecary shops to refill his supplies of medicines and an interesting couple of hours visiting the medical instruments shop, having the different instruments explained to him and making a number of purchases. The two bookshops that the city boasted held little of interest to him except a relatively plain copy of the Bible that Alan intended to donate to the Wivenhoe church. Brother Cuthbert, the librarian at the abbey, was most helpful. He examined most carefully the list produced by Brother Leanian, the librarian of the Colchester Priory, promising a number of works missing from that list including two more chapters of Hippocrates’ Corpus and some works of Galen, and was most interested in the three chapters of the Corpus not in his library. Alan’s personal library continued to grow by this means.

He also spent a day at the Saturday livestock market at Smithfield, which was quite near to their house, purchasing twelve chargers, six stallions and six mares, for delivery at Aldgate on Friday morning at Terce. Next was a visit to Wood Street to purchase from the bowyers the 22 crossbows that were the entire stock of the seven shops, and an order for 10 more from the best of the bowyers to be ready on the 1st of November, with a 20 percent deposit paid in advance.

They spend several days wandering through the winding streets of the city. A person could barely walk a dozen paces without being accosted, and in the crowds was the every-present risk of the attentions of a cut-purse waiting to relieve the unwary of their money. For this reason Alan and Anne both rarely walked abroad in the city without at least two burly huscarles with them, one close ahead forcing a passage through the crowd and the other close behind to watch for trouble. In Anne’s case she frequently also had Tiw the stable hand or Leof the page, or sometimes both, with her to carry her purchases.

There were many spectacles to be seen as one walked through the city, with something always happening. This may be a group of barefoot flagellants walking through the city, beating themselves and each other with thorn branches or short leather whips; those guilty of some misdemeanour such as adultery standing in the double stocks located in the square outside St Paul’s Cathedral, being pelted with rotten fruit or other filth as punishment for their sins; cock-fights, with a crowd of 100 or more spectators standing in a circle, shouting and betting as the birds leapt and struck at each other with beak and spurs, feathers and blood flying; bull-baiting with a tethered bull struggling to protect itself from the attack of a small pack of hounds; puppet shows and mummer’s plays; religious processions on the days of the many saints, many processions quite small with just the congregation of one of the many dozens of small churches scattered throughout the city.

Finally, on the 3rd August after meeting with the tradesmen and making the agreed payments, Anne met with the house staff and advised Frithswith that she would not be retained as cook as both her culinary skills and temperament were lacking. The cook was paid off and Aitkin instructed to find another cook to commence when they returned, with Aitkin being given a purse of pennies for the next three months wages for himself and his children. After leaving the house they collected the apprentice glassmaker and the metalworker, who rode on a small cart pulled by a donkey that carried the purchases which to were being taken to Essex. They departed from Aldgate at mid-morning, each man leading a spare horse, on what would be a leisurely but uncomfortable two day ride to Thorrington. It had started to rain heavily.*

CHAPTER TWELVE

THORRINGTON AUGUST 1067

The next two days spent on the road were wet and uncomfortable. Alan rode wearing a large square of oiled cloth with a central hole for his head and a leather wide-brimmed hat, which together kept most of the rain off his upper body, although water ran down the back of his neck. His woollen trews were soaked and rubbed uncomfortably against his legs as he rode. Anne, her maid and Leof travelled in the cart, with another large piece of oiled cloth keeping most of the rain off them. The others rode soaked and miserable, sitting like wet sacks on their mounts.

They saw few other travellers in the Great Forest. The huge beech, oak and birch trees, resplendent in their summer foliage, formed a virtual canopy over the winding and now muddy track that formed the roadway. Water dripped from the trees and lay pooled in the ground from the constant rain.

The horsemen rode at the edge of the road on the firmer ground, while the poor cart-horse plodded on up to its hocks in mud in the middle of the track. Even after emerging from the Great Forest traffic on the road was slight as most travellers were clever enough to wait for better conditions before travelling.

When on the afternoon of the second day they rode into Thorrington they saw a cog, a small trading vessel, floating on the Alresford Creek. Like most of its kind it was a single-masted ship, rather short at sixty feet at the waterline, wide and shallow-drafted, rounded towards both ends and with a stern-mounted steering-oar. At the moment the ship was partially empty and rode high, showing above the waterline five strakes each of a plank of oak twelve inches wide.

Unusually for such a ship it was fully decked rather than having a half-deck, making it a proper sea-going vessel. Orvin had kept his word and also sent a good crew. These simple ships were usually manned by a small crew of three, but for this longer and more difficult voyage he had recruited a crew of six, including an experienced trading captain named Bjorn from Oslo, who claimed in his many years of sailing, both Viking and trading, to have sailed as far as the Levant. Orvin’s letter highly recommended the man and attested that he had the usual good navigation and sailing skills of his people. He also mentioned that Uncle Lidmann had made arrangements with an agent in Exeter and that the required tin ingots had been bought and were awaiting collection.

Both Anne and Alan were taken with Bjorn’s gruff no-nonsense manner, long red hair and weather-beaten features. He expressed himself delighted with the ‘Zeelandt’, declaring it as a “trim and weatherly ship, and as good as any of its kind I’ve seen.”

Orvin had also sent six young men, described as ‘being of good repute and looking for adventure,’ to act as guards in addition to the six crewmen.

Knowing Alan’s intentions, Baldwin had for the last week been training all the men with the short-sword (except Bjorn, who had his own single-handed battle-axe), with Warren training them on the four crossbows that they had in the armoury. Some of the newly purchased cross-bows would also form part of the equipment for the ship when they arrived.

Alan had given up on his idea of putting war-boats to sea, as that would not protect his ships on the high seas or on foreign coasts. When Alan explained his alternative intention of arming the ships to fight off pirates Bjorn was delighted, saying that having a dozen men firing cross-bow bolts and waving swords was likely to deter all but the most determined of pirates, except of course the Norwegians and Danes.

Alan gave a small smile and told him to move the ‘Zeelandt’ further down the creek on the tide so it was out of view of the village. Bjorn gave a non-committal shrug and did as he was told.

After spending the evening and most of the morning tinkering in his work-room, Alan had what looked like a huge wooden cross-bow put on the back of a wagon and driven down to where the ship was beached on the low tide. Baldwin, Warren and Aldwin tagged along to see what was happening, but Alan gave instructions to all the other villagers to stay away.

“What’s that?” asked Anne.

“That’s one of the ballistae I’ve been telling you about,” replied Alan, as he had the machine dragged across the mud on wooden boards and then hoisted onto the foredeck of the ship, where it was bolted in place. Several small barrels and two dozen spear-like projectiles, most with an enlarged head about eighteen inches long and four inches wide made of absorbent lambs-wool, were carried across to the ship. He had a dozen wooden boxes and crates set up along the shoreline, some sitting just in the water. One box made of four-inch thick oak was placed 200 paces away.

The dozen crew members looked intrigued.

“You pull on these spokes, which puts torsion on the bow arms like this. Then you load the bolt like this.” Alan slipped a plain metal rod four feet long and two inches wide into the slot. “You adjust the sights like this, which give you the range- although it fires with a very flat trajectory so a little inaccuracy doesn’t matter, and you pull the trigger, like this.” With a loud ‘thunk!’ the ballista discharged and the thick wooden box disappeared in a shower of splinters. “It has a 500 pace range,” he concluded.

“Gruss Got!” exclaimed Bjorn. “Not even Vikings would take on a ship that is blowing holes in their hull like that!”

“Now, for when they are really determined!” Alan measured out equal amounts of powder from two of the small barrels into an earthenware pot about the size of a bucket and spooned in some thick black pitch, stirring thoroughly.

After recharging the ballista he took one of the large-headed projectiles. “We’ll see if this works. I’ve never done it without heating the mixture in a cauldron so that it turns into a liquid.” Alan dipped the lambs-wool into the mixture and put the projectile in place. He lit the pitch, which burnt with a dull flame, then carefully aimed at a box that was just starting to float on the incoming tide and pulled the trigger. The shot missed the box by several feet, but when it hit the water it exploded in a shower of flame that blew the box to pieces and threw burning material thirty feet in each direction.

Everybody, including Alan, was stunned. “Well, yes it did work! I didn’t think you could light a fire to heat the caldron and make a liquid on a boat in the heat of the moment when you’re under attack. The thing that you must not do is allow any water into this pot. The water causes the fire. This requires the greatest of care, or you send your own ship up in flames. What’s really good about it is that if the shot hits the target ship, they’ll throw a bucket of water on it to put out the pitch that’s on fire, and blow up their own ship.”

Bjorn looked at Alan with the greatest respect. “You are an evil man,” he said with a happy grin. “With this, I could send the entire Moorish fleet to the bottom. But I prefer the iron bolts. They’re safer and more civilised.”

Alan was a little surprised to hear a Viking calling himself civilised, but let it pass. He had the second ballista brought down and bolted onto a wagon, with the oxen and driver then being dispatched back to the village. Three of the guards practiced with the incendiary mix from the ballista on the wagon, and three with wooden spears in lieu of the more expensive metal rods from the ballista on the foredeck, swapping over after an hour.

Towards dark Alan showed the crew the procedure for cleaning up spilled incendiary powder. “Smother with dry sand and scrape off.” He then mounted the second ballista on the stern of the ship, which with the incoming tide was now floating against the riverbank, and covered both engines with large pieces of oiled canvas. “Hopefully you’ll never need to take the canvas off,” he said to Bjorn.

“I don’t know- I wouldn’t like the voyages to be too boring!” replied the Viking with a laugh.

‘Zeelandt’ was partially loaded with a dozen barrels of whale oil, used for lighting; barrels of pickled and salted herring; bales of dried herring and a dozen barrels of Stockholm tar. The ship would have to be reloaded at Exeter when the two tons of tin ingots were added, which would be placed at the bottom of the hold as ballast. On return she would carry 160 barrels of fine French wine, twenty tuns.

Unfortunately, with the lateness of the season she would only get in one voyage before being laid up for winter. Bjorn sailed at midnight to catch the tide.

The glazier and metalworker both finished their work the next day and departed together on foot on the road back to London.

Orvin had sent word of the other boats that had now returned. These were the ‘Birgitta’ from Danzig and the ‘Stormsvale’ from Lubeck. The crew that had sailed to Hamburg had sold the ship and cargo as instructed, but had been unable to buy a suitable ship and had hired another ship to bring them back to Ipswich. Orvin had arranged a crew and cargo of wool and fabric to Bergen for the ‘Stormsvale’, with an intended return cargo of herring and whale oil. ‘Birgitta’ needed some work to make her fully sea-worthy, as she was from the eastern Baltic and only had a half-deck. Due to the coming of autumn and the imminent onset of the storm season, Orvin had dispatched ‘Stormsvale’ to Bergen, with a stated hope in his letter that this was acceptable.

He also advised that the net amount received from the sale of the three ships and cargos, after allowing the cost of purchase of the two replacement ships and his percentage was?1,927 15/ and 3d. This was in addition to the invested profit from the sale of the first ship and the financing of the ‘Zeelandt’ voyage.

Anne spent an enjoyable evening going over the figures and calculating that their current worth, excluding the value of the land that they held, was?3,010 5/ and 6p in cash, three substantial trading cogs, two with cargos in transit and eight longboats sitting in Barfleet Creek doing nothing. Which she then proceeded to nag Alan about. Each ship was worth?50 and was sitting there doing nothing.

Alan had spent the evening going over the manor accounts for the harvest which had just been completed, which he was sure that Anne would eventually get to. It had been a good summer harvest with above average yields.

Alan’s one third of the village’s cultivated land had yielded twice as much grain and hay as the usual full year harvest from the two field system, although Kendrick’s theft made the validity of the previous figures questionable. The autumn crop in the second field was likely to sprout at any time, given the heavy rain that they had received. Alan had also instructed that the land just cleared at Thorrington of the summer crop be mown for what hay remained, and ploughed and planted with alfalfa. This would be the fallow-field next year and it would be interesting to see what an early start would have on its use for grazing the following year.

Then he examined the training records of the soldiers, both the full-timers and the fyrdmen, sorting who to talk to- Hugh, Baldwin, Warren, Roger, Owain or Brand- for confirmation as to which troops either deserved promotion or required additional training. Owain called in and gave a personal report that all the contracted longbows had been received and that the training meant that they now had 50 archers who could hit a man-sized target at 200 paces half the time, with half of the men being able to do better and at longer range.

“You really enjoy dealing with that merchant stuff, don’t you,” Alan asked Anne, watching her go over the business accounts by candlelight as they ate a late supper.

“It’s fun, and as a merchant’s daughter I like to turn one shilling into two- three or four times a year, so at the end of the year each shilling is worth a pound. It’s like a game and whether you won is determined by how much is in your strong-box. Owning assets confuses things and creates responsibilities. You like to do your ‘lord of the manor’ and your ‘warrior leader’ things as well, don’t you?”

“Yes, but that’s my responsibility and what I am. I’m happy for you that the merchant expeditions seem to be working out, and I don’t have the traditional aversion to merchants that most ‘nobles’ do.” Here he pulled a face and placed a derogatory stress on the word ‘noble’. “But frankly it doesn’t particularly interest me, although the money is helpful in paying for what I want to do.”

“And what do you want to do?” asked Anne.

“Right now, take my wife to bed and spend the whole night making fierce love, After all, we do need an heir.”

Anne grinned shamelessly and said, “You must admit we have been trying hard these last few months and I’m not sure you are ‘up’ to it. But let’s give it a few more tries,” she said as she stood and placed her land on her lover’s arm and walked toward the bedchamber.

Autumn passed in a period largely of idleness on the part of Anne and Alan. Alan instructed that on his land the usual autumn slaughter of animals would be abbreviated to the minimum and that some of the additional harvest of grain and hay would be fed to the animals over winter. He was keen to build up his sheep, cattle and swine herds, and the annual autumn slaughter prevented this. The horse studs had performed well, and a new generation of larger and stronger animals were on the way and would be ready for use in two to three years time. He told Anne to shut up about the longboats, they were doing no harm beached in Barfleet Creek and he had some ideas about future use.

With the harvest gathered the village-folk were working at a slower pace, threshing and winnowing the grain. Men used flails to beat the heads of grain of wheat, barley, rye and oats that were in turn spread on the stone-flagged threshing floors. This was then swept up and winnowed by the women and older children, placing the grain/chaff mixture on large flat trays then tossing the grain into the air to allow the breeze to blow away the chaff, with the clean grain then being placed into the several village granaries, including that located in the bailey of New Hall.

Chaff was placed in bags. Straw was made into haystacks. Vegetables were dried and placed in sacks, particularly beans and peas. Other vegetables were placed in cool dry baskets or in salted brine. Herbs were gathered and dried. Root vegetables were dug up, cleaned and placed in dark dry cellars against use in the coming winter.

Livestock was driven to market, particularly the cattle. A few cows were slaughtered and pickled as corned beef or smoked as jerky. Some swine were sent to market, others were slaughtered and cooked, pickled or smoked as ham, bacon or spiced smoked sausages, or more rarely as the more exotic delicacies of northern Europe. Sheep, which had been shorn previously, were corralled and about half their number either sold at market or slaughtered for food. Winters in East Anglia were often bitter and protecting and feeding livestock was difficult, so much of the village livestock was sold or killed each autumn. Fish were caught and smoked or pickled. Fruit was dried or preserved as jam, or occasionally in the case of the New Hall preserved in olive oil, honey or was candied, Anne taking advantage of the items she imported.

Winter was coming and the main effort of the Hundred was to ensure that there would be adequate food to see them through to the following harvest. Alan also had additional shelters built for the extra livestock he intended to retain over the winter.

Anne, with a free hand from Alan whose only instruction was ‘diversify’ based on the advice he had received from Orvin, bought ‘futures’ in wool and tin with part of the available funds, and a minority stake in a tin and copper mine in Cornwall. Alan couldn’t understand the concept of buying wool or tin that didn’t yet exist, but let Anne go ahead as she seemed to know what she was doing and was using only a small part of their available capital for this speculative venture.

September brought a shortening of the days. Sunrise was half past five in the morning and sunset at seven in the evening. With the pressure off and most men trained, and to not make an issue of the number of men he had under arms, he transferred ten huscarles to Ramsey, where Hugh was also training ten apprentice Wolves and ten of the sons of the local thegns in cavalry tactics. Ten Wolves and Warren went to Bradfield, and another ten to Brand at Great Oakley. This kept the former estates of the Kemp brothers well under control and didn’t tax the accommodation facilities of any manor.

Alan retained ten trainee Wolves and ten huscarles. Each manor also acted as a training site for its own fyrd members and those of other villages. The fifty longbowmen had completed their training and returned into the local communities, only reappearing two mornings a week for training and practice. Between his own eight manors Alan had 250 properly armed and reasonably trained fyrdmen and expected to be able to count on a further 200 from those villages that had fought at Wivenhoe earlier that year, and whose thegns had received weapons and armour as part of their booty.

With the slowing of the labours of the agricultural year and the completion of the traditional task of fruit-tree pruning, Alan had the geburs of Wivenhoe prepare a defensive bailey, or burgh, at the village against future attack by the Danes and all the peasants of Wivenhoe assisted.

They were reluctant to do this, but Alan pointed out their traditional labour obligations to build and maintain the burgh (fortified place) of the village and that the work was for their benefit as there would be no manor lord in residence. The work involved digging a six-foot deep ditch around an area at the edge of the village, about an acre in size, the spoil being used as breastworks with a palisade of wooden stakes mounted above, to give the peasants a place of retreat if unexpected attack came.

The village granary and armoury were relocated inside the fortification and Alan included six small towers, each with a ballista. At Thorrington several of the Wolves and huscarles had formed relationships either with local girls or the influx of women that had come to the Hundred after the Danish raid earlier in the year- either from the refugees that had been rescued or others who had come seeking a place of safety after word of the battle had circulated amongst the freemen and women of the shire.

Nobody believed that they had seen the last of the Danish raiders and both newcomers and locals, male and female, worked with on the fortifications that they knew could any day save their lives. Indeed, the Danish raid had proved something of a boon to Tendring Hundred, and particularly Alan’s lands, with the influx of people from outside villages. The additional labour was of course valuable, but with limited land available most of the newcomers became cottars holding little if any land, but with their own cottage and a place in the community into which they were welcomed.

Less welcome was what Alan saw as the response of Engelric, Bishop William, Earl Ralph and Robert fitzWymarc. Although the king’s imposition of quotas of men-at-arms to be provided from each manor probably provided the cause, in early September Robert fitzWymarc had appointed a young Angevin Frenchman Gerard de Cholet as tenant of his village of Elmstead. Bishop William of London created two manors at Clacton, each of ten hides, and one of seven hides at St Osyth. These were held by Normans Roger de Montivilliers, Geoffrey of Rouen and the Fleming Albyn of Bruges.

Only Engelric appointed an Englishman, named Leax, formerly of Hertfordshire, as thegn to the lands he held of St Paul’s of London at Birch Hall. Fortunately Earl Ralph’s parcel of land at Little Bentley was too small to support a military tenant and remained on laen to a local freeman. All the villages concerned were within five miles of Thorrington.

Equally fortunately, the holding at Wrabness of the Church of St Edmund’s, and St Paul’s holdings at The Naze, continued to be occupied and administered by their stewards, otherwise there could have been another six Frenchmen to deal with.

The Frenchman Gerard de Cholet at Elmstead caused little problem within the Hundred, perhaps because Gerard had a benign or slothful nature, or more likely the nearness of the manor to the town administered by his lord restrained his relations with his neighbours at Great Bromley, Derleigh and Ardleigh. Alan did, however, hear comments that the villagers were not impressed with his arrogant attitude towards them.

The villages of Great and Little Clacton, now held by Normans Roger de Montivilliers and Geoffrey of Rouen, and the holding of the Fleming Albyn of Bruges at St Osyth, all Bishop William’s men, were more of a problem. At least Roger and Geoffrey held their villages without direct contact with the other local thegns.

Albyn of Bruges at St Osyth was another matter, as the village held two manors, with the other held by the thegn Edward. Edward’s land included a substantial wooded area and meadowland. Within days of Albyn’s arrival, Edward had complained to Alan that Albyn and his men had been hunting in his forest, had instructed their villagers to herd the swine into his forest to feed off the acorns and pastured cattle in his meadow. Edward had sent his steward to complain to Albyn, but the man had been soundly thrashed and driven away.

Alan rode down to St Osyth with Osmund and six huscarles, armed but unarmoured and looking impressive with their size and striking appearance. All the men wore Alan’s uniform of green, although he himself wore his trademark black tunic and hose. Alan and his men were grudgingly admitted into the small Hall. The shutters were closed, the room was quite small and smelt foul from the old and soiled rushes on the floor. Three or four Normans or Frenchmen were in evidence, carrying swords. On that basis Alan did not instruct his huscarles to disarm as was the usual courtesy. No refreshment was offered and after about fifteen minutes Albyn appeared. He was a middle-aged rotund man with a sour face and a dirty tunic.

“I’m sorry to call unannounced, so that you were unable to greet me properly, de Bruges,” said Alan, looking in a bored manner at the fingernails of his right hand. “I’m sure that your welcome would have been much more proper if you had been advised I was calling.”

“What do you want, de Gauville?” demanded Albyn harshly.

“Firstly, some common courtesy. I’m not aware that an unknighted man-at-arms, who holds a single manor as a fief, is the social equal of a knight who holds eight manors directly from the king. You, de Bruges will refer to me as ‘Sir Alan’. Secondly, I assume that the lack of refreshment offered is not a deliberate insult, but a result of you having the lack of anything suitable, wine or ale, to offer your guests. After all, one must observe the usual standards of hospitality. To business! I’m the Chief Justice of the Hundred court. I’m informed that you and your men have been riding through the lands of the thegn who has the honour to share this village with you. Not only riding, but hawking and taking deer.”

“So what of it, we can ride where we want and do what we want!” answered Albyn arrogantly.

“No, as a matter of fact, under both Norman Law and English Law which apply here, you cannot. You are entitled to ride through the woodland, but it is usual courtesy to the owner to use the roads or bridal paths. To take any of his game without his permission is an offence under both laws- theft. Any Englishman doing so is liable to pay compensation. Any Norman is liable to have both eyes put out with hot pokers and his right hand removed. You may think yourself lucky that this time Edward has instructed me that he does not wish to bring formal complaint against you. Next time, if there is a next time, he will. If you are found guilty, you’ll suffer the penalty applicable to Normans.” Albyn’s eyes bulged and his face turned red and he stuttered trying to speak.

Alan continued, “I also discussed with Edward that, in a feeling of neighbourliness, next August when the crops on your demesne are nice and high, that he and a few hundred of his friends may choose to visit you, riding through your demesne fields, line abreast. Now that would not be against the law, because as you just said anybody is free to ride their horse anywhere. That would not, of course, be of any benefit to your crops. As to the swine and cattle that keep appearing on Edward’s land and eating his feed, I’ve told him to seize them and bring case at the following Hundred Court that they are unclaimed cattle and he should apply for ownership.”

Albyn was gurgling as Alan waved him quiet. Osmund had been quietly taking written notes of the conversation.

“Now on Wednesday morning Edward’s steward, Slean, came to discuss these diverse matters with you, and I’m informed he was beaten by one of your servants, an Englishman named…Wallis,” Alan completed after a pause to check the name on a small sheet of parchment in his hand. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“Certainly, the little English shite came here, all stuck up, and told me what I had to do- or at least stop doing. So I had my servant give him a beating to teach him his manners,” replied Albyn contemptuously.

“Who else was there?” asked Alan.

Albyn shrugged. “I suppose my men, Arnaud and Josselin, my English steward Wyman and a few of the servants. I don’t know their names. Why?”

“Assault is a serious crime in England. Slean’s bot, or compensation, if proven will be six shillings for each of the teeth that he lost and a shilling for the bruising. If proven, I’ll also order a fine of the same amount, with both to be payable by you personally. Here is your Summons to attend at the Hundred court on Monday the 17th September. Fetch Wallis.” A few moments later Alan handed Wallis his Summons and explained what it meant. “A Summons will arrive in the next few days for Arnaud, Josselin and Wyman. Do not ignore the Summonses, as the penalty is forfeiture of an ox each.”

Alan leaned forward and tapped on the table in front of an angry and nonplussed Albyn. “Be under no misapprehension that the law applies to you and your men and I will impose it rigorously. The people you deal with, except your own slaves, are freemen and entitled to the protection of the law. Even every one of your own villagers. Don’t make the mistake that just because a man or woman does not speak French they are your inferior and you can do as you wish.”

“You can’t do this!” Albyn finally managed to blurt out. “I am one of Bishop William’s men. I demand trial before the Shire Court!”

“I wouldn’t care if you were the pope himself. I have jurisdiction in this Hundred, given to me by the king himself. If you were charged, which you have not been, thanks to Edward’s generosity, after I hear the case you would have the right of appeal to the Curia Regis. Of which I am also a member. Then we would see who has the greatest influence, me or your precious bishop. Don’t forget, nine in the forenoon on Monday 17th September at the Old Hall at Thorrington.”

As Alan rode back home to Thorrington he wondered whether Albyn would call his bluff. England did have laws and a legal code which at least partially codified and which largely dealt with payment of compensation for injury suffered. It even had a court system to allow the bringing of legal complaints- a system almost totally lacking in Normandy and France. The problem was that a powerful man, or even a weak man with powerful friends, could in effect ignore any claim against him. If Albyn were to stride down the main road at Thorrington killing every man that he saw, his powerful master could provide him with effective protection against any retribution.

Three days later Alan was in the Hall of Roger de Montvilliers at Great Clacton, accompanying Leofstan of Great Holland. The reception had been more polite and this time their retainer’s swords were left by the door, as was custom.

They were accompanied by four of Leofstan’s huscarles, who sat against the wall. Leofstan, Osmund and Alan sat at a table with Roger’s clerk. After a few minutes polite chat between Alan and Roger Alan said, “Leofstan here, of course, is your neighbour, but doesn’t speak much French. He does speak Latin. Do you have any English or Latin? No, well I’ll do my best to explain the problem. Leofstan tells me that there’s a woodland that’s partly on your land and partly on his estate of Little Holland. He’s mentioned to me that deer fencing has been put up on your side of the boundary, which means that the deer can freely pass from his side to yours, but can’t get back and he’s concerned that this might upset relations between your estates.”

Roger, an older and more intelligent man than Albyn, smiled and said, “I’ve heard about your recent talk with de Bruges. There is nothing illegal in putting up deer fencing on your own land.”

“Oh I quite agree,” replied Alan amiably, sipping at the cup of rather sour wine that had been provided. “And I told Leofstan the same thing. I had hoped that raising the matter in a friendly way may be able to avoid any misunderstandings that could all too easily lead to tension between neighbours. I also discussed with Leofstan that he’s been thinking of damming the local stream to provide water that he can use to make a fishery. It’s been a project of his for some time now, but he’s been putting it off because of the effect it may have on the water-mill on your land, which I understand also relies on the stream. You see, in a reasonably densely-populated area like this, we often can’t do anything without in impacting on others. Now about these fences, do you really need them…?”

The next week it was, in a way, a more simple matter to journey to Little Clacton to seize one of Geoffrey de Rouen’s men, a Norman servant named Gautier charged with rape of a woman at Weeley.

All in all, it appeared as if it would be an interesting day at the Hundred court that month.

Alan called the court to session at nine in the forenoon. As was usual for court-days, the Old Hall was packed as there was little to do for entertainment in Tendring Hundred and word had passed that this sitting was likely to be memorable. Alan announced that the usual double-sitting at each end of the Hall would not be followed due to the importance of some of the cases and his need for both scribes. He was joined on the bench by Harold of Frinton and Leofson of Moze, neither of whom had yet had dealings with the new lords of Little and Great Clacton and St Osyth. Each gave oath that they would try the cases before them that day impartially and without prejudice.

All four of the new foreign lords were present and Alan had Osmund give them a little homily on the English law system and the use of the frankpledge or frithbogh before Alan continued in Norman, “This court administers two systems of law. Norman to Normans and West Saxon to English and other foreigners. I sit with two fellow judges, who are men of noble rank and respected thegns of the Hundred. Proceedings will be conducted in English as that is the language that the judges and most of the complainants, defendants and witnesses understand.

“Today I’ll have Brother Wacian give a running commentary in French and translating question and answer for those cases involving your men. Osmund will write the transcript, and as usual this will be in Latin. He writes quicker than Brother Wacian. The judgments will be the decision of the three judges and will be handed down by me, in the case of your men both in English and French. There is a right of appeal to the Curia Regis, the King’s Council, and the transcripts are forwarded to the Royal High Chancellor as a matter of course each Quarter. If you wish to be involved in the administration of justice in this Hundred, as is both your right and responsibility, I suggest you learn English well and quickly. Now to the first case.”

Gautier was hauled before the court in chains. Not being a member of a frithbogh who would ensure his attendance, he’d been kept in custody and both his person and clothes were dirty. Initially nervous, he apparently drew heart from the presence of four lords clearly of French appearance and a dozen or so of their retainers.

Alan began, pausing after every sentence to allow translation. “Gautier of Little Clacton you are charged with the rape of a maid named Mildreth of Weeley, at Weeley on the morning of Saturday the 8th of September, the day of the Feast of the Birth of the Blessed Virgin Mary. Do you understand the charge, and if so, how do you plead?”

“Not guilty,” said Gautier in a firm voice.

“Remember you are on oath to tell the truth. This is a serious oath and if you or any of the others breach it, they are liable both to a fine and to a sentence never to shriven or to be buried in hallowed ground on their death. That means to be condemned to everlasting damnation.

“Do you agree that you were at Weeley at that time on that date? Yes. And were you there on your lord’s business? No. It is three miles from Little Clacton to Weeley, a long way to walk if you have no business there. Can you explain why you went? You just wanted to stretch your legs, you say.” Alan was translating the replies from French back into English for his fellow-judges and those in court, being careful not to place words in Gautier’s mouth. “What are your duties at Little Clacton? Lord Geoffrey’s personal servant. Stand down for a while and we will examine the complainant.”

The girl Mildreth was about fifteen years of age and quite comely, tall and blonde. She was a cheorl, a freewoman, and the daughter of Holt the cheorl who owned the dairy at Weeley. Late in the morning she had just returned to the dairy from an errand, when a man she identified as Gautier followed her in the door and immediately assaulted her, exposing her bosom, ripping her dress and after throwing her to the floor took her by force.

Her cries for assistance had immediately brought the two other girls who worked at the dairy, but they were unable to help. After several minutes a man of the village, Tobrytan, had intervened and the attacker ran off with Tobrytan raising the Hue and Cry while the other girls cared for Mildreth and took her home. She recognised Gautier and with satisfaction explained she had marked him by scratching his face with her long finger-nails. The partly healed scratches could still be seen on Gautier’s face and Alan commented that when he and the other two judges had examined the defendant a week previously the scratches had been fresh and deep. Mildreth was allowed to stand down and Gautier recalled.

“Now, before we call as witnesses the two girls in the dairy and Tobrytan the carter, and then have people swear oaths as to their reliability, do you have anything you want to say, perhaps an admission or explanation of some sort?” asked Alan.

After this was translated, Gautier suddenly spouted forth in French in what appeared to be a mixture of anger and confusion. “What is the problem? Yes, I gave the stupid whore the benefit of my ‘sword’. That’s all these English bitches are good for with their snobbish ways and failure to recognise their betters.”

“And did she consent?” asked Harold, looking at the scratches on Gautier’s face.

“I guess not,” replied Gautier, fingering the scratches. “But the bitch enjoyed every moment of having a real man for a change.”

“In the light of the defendant’s own admissions, which have been written into the transcript, I don’t see any need to continue further,” said Alan with a look at Harold and Leofson. “One question, Geoffrey de Rouen, did this man come to you that day and tell you he was being sought by the Hue and Cry?”

“Yes,” said Geoffrey from his seat near the front of the court.

“And you did nothing to bring this to the attention of the authorities?”

“No.”

“I’ll overlook that this one time, because perhaps you don’t know the laws of the land- which is a pretty poor excuse as they are the same in France. In future any failure to assist the authorities in their investigation of a crime will be punished,” said Alan. Geoffrey turned bright red with anger at this public rebuke before what he saw as his social inferiors.

Alan and the other judges retired to the backroom for a quick talk and pint of ale. When they returned Alan continued, “Gautier of Little Clacton, you have made admissions to this court that clearly show your guilt. If you were an Englishman, I would order compensation of 100 shillings. But you are not. You are a Norman, and the penalty imposed on you is that of Norman law. Let there be no misunderstanding by the Normans of this land that they can do what they want, when they want and to whom they want.

“The Norman law specifies that for the offence of rape you should hang. But King William, in his wisdom, has decreed that no Hundred court can order the death by hanging or other means of any Norman.” Here Gautier and the other Normans began smirking. “So I sentence you to the most severe penalty left to me by King William’s law. You shall have both eyes put out with a hot poker and you shall be castrated. After that you will be delivered back up to your lord’s manor at Little Clacton for him to care for you as he wishes.”

The smirks promptly disappeared from the faces of the Normans and Geoffrey strode up to the judge’s table, thumping his hand down. “You can’t do that. The man is a Norman, and I claim the right to protect him.”

“Grow up Geoffrey! A man’s nationality gives him no protection. Do you think you can ride down the main street of Little Clacton killing every Englishman you see and raping every woman? These are free men and women and they have legal rights just as do you and I, and your Norman retainers. The fact that you and your men are in a foreign country in some position of power gives you and them no more rights than if you were at home in France. Indeed less rights, as here nearly everybody is a freeman or freewoman, and not a villein or serf. Stop thinking that just because the Bishop gave you a fief that you are God and your men are Archangels. I will apply the law impartially here to every man and woman, irrespective of where they come from and what language they speak. By the way, I’d suggest that you stop beating the geburs in your village, because if one makes a formal complaint you’re likely to be spending time in the stocks. I’m sure you will find the next case of interest.”

After an adjournment the St Osyth assault case began. The case continued tri-lingually, with first Edward of St Osyth being sworn, stating that he had issues of land ownership with his neighbour Albyn of Bruges. He had sent his steward Slean to discuss these with Albyn’s steward Wyman, and if necessary with Albyn himself. Slean had returned on foot, badly beaten with two front teeth knocked out, bad facial bruising to the left of the head, bruising to the chest and ribs and two broken ribs. Slean gave evidence that he had delivered his master’s message to both Wyman and Albyn together, and that he was- apparently at Albyn’s instructions, although he could not speak French to confirm this- beaten and then thrown out of the door. Were there any other witnesses? Lord Albyn himself, his men Arnaud and Josselin, who all laughed during the beating, and several English servants.

Alan interjected and said that, to hopefully save time, rather than call Edward’s and Slean’s frithboghs to give evidence as to their oath-worthiness at this time, that Wyman should be called.

After first being reminded of the importance of his oath, Wyman gave a detailed description of how he had beaten Slean with a large stick at the instruction of Alwyn, who had kept on encouraging ‘lay on harder’. Arnaud and Josselin, knowing that they had done nothing untoward themselves, agreed that Wyman had beaten Slean in the presence of themselves and Alwyn but refused to say whether this was at Alwyn’s instruction.

When Alwyn was called to give evidence, he refused to take the oath or to make any declaration, saying that the matter had nothing to do with him. Alan carefully asked a series of questions about what had been said, why Slean had been beaten and why Alwyn had done nothing to prevent this, each of which questions Alwyn refused to answer but which clearly showed the facts of the case.

After the traditional adjournment to the back room, with the ale this time supplemented by food from the tavern, the judges returned. Alan declared Wyman guilty, but declared that the offence had taken place when he felt that he was ‘under the obligation or power of another’. He set the bot compensation at ten shillings, and a further ten shillings fine payable to the king. He also ordered that the money not be payable by Wyman’s frithbogh, but by his lord Alwyn de Bruges, who the court was satisfied had ordered the attack. Alan also enquired as to what had happened to the horse Slean had ridden to St Osyth. Wyman stated that it stood in Alwyn’s stable. Alan ordered its return and a further?2 to be paid by Alwyn to Edward within a month, for unlawful possession of property.

Alan reached over and whispered into Osmund’s ear, “I expect that Wyman will be looking for a new position by tonight. Offer him a place on one of our northern manors, perhaps as assistant-steward. He seems an honest enough man.”

Knowing that he had made two permanent enemies, but not particularly caring because they would anyway have been against him due to their allegiance with Bishop William, Alan declared the case closed, and resumed the usual double-hearing format at each end of the Hall for the standard cases of assault, drunkenness, mayhem and theft that any court has to hear.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

LONDON NOVEMBER 1067

In mid November Alan and Anne were back at the house at Holebourn Bridge outside London. Autumn had closed in and the ride south from Colchester had been accomplished in a single day of hard riding in a cold wind, pushing man and beast to exhaustion. Both Anne and Udelle, the single young maid Anne had brought with her, had to be assisted from their horses and into the house.

Aikin and his children, the servants Aidith and Tiw, were delighted to see them, Aikin wanted to conduct an immediate tour of the newly-completed renovations and improvements to the house, and had to be told firmly that the only things his masters were interested in was a warm fire, food and drink, a bath and bed in that order. Aikin had as instructed appointed a new cook, named Wilda. She was a pleasant and stout woman and had moved into Aikin’s chamber in the attic, while Aidith now had her own room also in the attic and Tiw slept in an alcove in the barn. Although the precise date of their arrival had not been previously arranged, Wilda soon had a tasty stew of goat and vegetables ready and served into wooden bowls, accompanied by fresh-baked bread and apples, the latter slightly wrinkled from age despite having been stored a barrel in the cellar. With profuse apologies she promised to obtain better fare for the following day.

Aikin broached a barrel of ale for the men and a jug of mead for the ladies, and they were feeling somewhat more human as they left the Hall for their sleeping quarters.

Next morning they did indeed inspect the repairs and renovations and were more than satisfied, Anne asking Aitkin to have the contractors call around to collect the balance of their payment, subject to the correction of a few small issues.

They next went to the docks where they saw ‘Zeelandt’ and ‘Stormsvale’ drawn up on the mudflats with two men caulking and scraping the hulls. ‘Birgitta’ was over-wintering at Ipswich.

Anne took Alan for his first look at the warehouse on Fish Street, not far from the Bridge. The labourer/guard opened the locks to let them into the dimly-lit building, what light there was coming through several small barred wall openings near the roof. As they walked through the warehouse Alan carried a rush torch and there were scurrying noises in several dark corners. “Looks like I need to get the rat-catcher back,” commented Anne.

“It smells intriguing,” said Alan as he peered about, noting the aromatic smells. He could almost taste the air- pungent, acrid, slightly bitter and persistent. “What have you got here?”

“Uncle Lidmann’s factor runs this part of things, although I think we need our own man now.” She picked up a roughly-bound book off a table. “This will only be his rough copy, but we have tuns of French wine over there. Those barrels are whale-oil from Norway; those are salted herrings; those bales are dried herrings; both of those are also from Norway. Bales of woollen cloth and bales of wool fleece. They’re from Yorkshire, Suffolk and Norfolk,”

She pulled out a pinch of wool and rubbed her fingers as she sniffed the lanolin and continued with her inventory. “Several tons of ingots of tin and copper from Cornwall are stacked over there. We mainly deal in bulk commodities, but over here,” she continued as she led the way to an area with small sacks each of about ten pounds weight, “we have the pepper, spices and so on. Grain of paradise, pepper, saffron, fresh and dried ginger, cinnamon, cumin, nutmeg, mace and allspice. Sugar, dried figs and dates. Almonds. Over there we have barrels of Iberian olive oil in nine gallon firkins. I’d have to check the inventories, but I’d expect that we have a good?1,000 worth of stock here waiting to move elsewhere, which we’ll sell for twice or three times that amount. I’ll arrange for some small quantities to go to both our properties for our own use.”

“How much money do we actually have?” asked Alan with interest.

“I’d need to work it out,” replied his wife. “It changes day to day, but will be reasonably steady at the moment as the ships aren’t sailing- that confuses things as what’s worth?100 in London today will be sold for?300 in Norway next week. At a guess,?3,000 or?4,000, if we take the cargos and commodities at cost, rather than sale prices. Twice that if we assume the ships don’t sink and the cargos are sold in May. We also have over?2,000 in cash, mainly with the Jews but some also on loan to men to help pay their Heriot, secured against the land, so if they don’t pay by next Christmas we receive the land. No interest charged on those loans as we are not allowed to engage in usury,” she concluded regretfully.

Alan blinked, not sure whether to marvel more at the amount or the fact that?1,000 was apparently a matter of unconcern to his wife. Most knights’ wives had to budget down to the penny- and all this had been built up within a year from the proceeds of the Danish ships carrying off booty from the sack of the warehouses at Colchester. It was small wonder that Anne had never complained about the cost of the armed retinue that Alan had gathered.

That evening they invited Bjorn, the captain of the ‘Zeelandt’, for dinner. Despite the day being Friday they ate a variety of meat pies. Anne and Osmund stayed with either fish pie or vegetable pie, but most of the men were eating the veal or beef pies with spiced vegetables. “Delicious,” said Bjorn as he wiped meat gravy from his long red beard with the table-cloth. “I’m glad you don’t go in for that religious fish-eating shite. I saw enough fish by the time I left Norway to last me a lifetime. There’s no other damn thing to eat up there, so you have fish dried, fried, smoked, pickled, roasted, grilled or any other way you can think of- three times a day, every day. I say I had my whole life’s supply of Friday and Wednesday fish by the time I was seven! Give me a nice piece of tasty beef anytime!”

“You managed to get a couple of voyages in to Aquitaine before the autumn,” said Alan. “That’s a long way, and I understand a difficult journey. How did things go?”

“Yes, we managed two trips between August and early October, when I called it quits. The Bay of Biscay can be a bit difficult in late autumn and winter. Storms come up out of nowhere. It’d be easier if we only sailed to Nantes instead of all the way to Bordeaux. If you know what you are doing the coastline is easy enough once you get to Brittany and the Biscay coast- there’s plenty of places to take shelter if you’re paying attention to the weather signs. The Factor is going to arrange to start to haul spices and other items from Iberia. The Moors get them from North Africa much cheaper than you can get them from the via the Venetians Levant.”

“Any problems from pirates?” asked Anne.

“Only the first time,” said Bjorn complaisantly. On being pressed he continued, “We were rounding Pointe St-Mathieu. Two ships came out from Brest and started to follow us. I let them catch up and hoisted a flag, black with a white diagonal cross, so they can recognise us next time- that’s only fair. The sea was a bit lumpy, a swell about twice as high as a man is tall, so I let them get quite close. Then I used your ballista. It worked just as you said. We took three shots to hit them and then all hell broke loose. The first ship burnt to the waterline in a couple of minutes and I left them with the second ship picking up those few who could swim. I don’t expect to have any problems again, which will be a pity as it livened up an otherwise boring voyage.”

Alan was smiling broadly at the laconic and understated delivery and promised himself the opportunity to talk in more detail in the future.

“And what would have been your most interesting journey?” asked Osmund with interest.

“Ah! That would have been when I was a lad, about eighteen, young and foolish. I joined Knut Sweinsson. Three longboats. Finland. To the Niva. Lake Ladoga. The Volkhov River. Novogrod. The Volga. Astrakan. The Caspian. Constantinople. The Levant. Greece. Iberia. Back home. The voyage took three years. We brought back a shit-load of treasure- the boat was nearly sinking from the weight of the gold and silver. Porting the boats overland was shit,” replied Bjorn.

Alan gave a laugh that such an epic voyage could be dismissed in so few words and spent the rest of the evening wheedling the details out of Bjorn’s capacious memory. He suggested that Osmund and Bjorn spend a few days together to record what was clearly an outstanding achievement.

King William sighed and sat back in his chair, tapping on the table a roll of parchment which was tied with a red ribbon. A pile of other parchment rolls occupied part of the table. Chancellor Regenbald and a French scribe sat at the ends of the table with Alan sitting facing the king. “You seem to have managed to have infuriated just about everybody you have come across, except Regenbald here who speaks in your favour.”

Alan frowned and said, “That’s a little unfair. I’ve come across a lot people since last I saw you eleven months ago, and most of them haven’t complained!” It was Monday the 10th of December and they were at the palace at Westminster. William had returned to England four days previously and Alan and Anne had been at their newly refurbished house at Holebourn Bridge outside London when he arrived.

“Accusing royal officers of corruption, including the earl of your own shire. Spreading dissent by seeking out those with grievances, not only in your own shire but also in Suffolk. Abusing your position of Chief Judge of the Hundred court. Illegally fining a Norman landholder for the actions of his servant. Threatening another that you would cut off the stream that feeds his fishery. And castrating and putting out the eyes of the Norman servant of a Norman lord. You almost seem to be at war with your own people. Oh, and creating a miraculous victory against a raiding Danish army, calling on God to destroy them with fire and raising your own private army! I believe that they call you ‘the king of Tendring Hundred’. Let me assure you that Tendring and the rest of England only has one king,” said William ominously.

Alan laughed long and loud, slapping the table in his mirth, with William raising an eyebrow as if he did not see the allegations as being grounds for humour.

“I see Bishop William and Earl Ralph, and possibly fitzWymarc and Engelric, have been in your ear already, although I think Engelric too clever to overstate his case,” he said. “The fact is that all four men have been raping your kingdom while you’ve been gone- along with many others. Obtaining money for the royal treasury under your instructions is one thing. Unlawfully enriching themselves at the expense of the people, and you, is another. These depositions show just some of their actions, from men and women strong enough to stand and say nay and appeal to you. I’m sure that they have all been resolved as administrative mistakes by now, Chancellor Regenbald?” asked Alan.

Regenbald nodded and said, “Apart from a few cases of junior officers either exceeding their authority or acting for their own benefit.”

Alan gave a sarcastic laugh. “The extent to which you wish to review the decision regarding the Redemption Relief by the various officers in your shires is up to you, Sire, but they have been receiving nearly as much money as you have.” Deciding to take the bull by the horns Alan continued, “William fitzOsbern has done a good job, while much beset by problems with the Welsh. Your other half-brother Odo has been having problems in Kent largely as a result of his own thievery and the theft of property, including church property. In the circumstances, who did you expect me or anybody else in the kingdom to complain to?

“What next? The decisions of the Hundred court? The transcripts were forwarded to Regenbald and I am happy to abide by whatever you decide after reading them. Confessions in court by those accused. The fact that the servant died after being blinded and castrated wasn’t my fault. I had him returned to his lord to be cared for. Is it my fault that he was then thrown out on the street and bled to death? All proper procedures were followed and the sentences were according to law. The fact that Bishop William and his men and their servants believe themselves above the law is not my fault.

“Winning a victory against the Danish raiders? I would have thought that a matter for congratulation rather than condemnation. They’d ravaged part of Lexden Hundred and I suppose I was supposed to let them do the same with Tendring Hundred while the sheriff sat safe and snug in his city walls and did nothing? Yes, I called out the fyrd. No, I had no authority to do so. I was the man on the ground, having to make the hard decisions. You’ve been there and done that yourself. Sometimes a decision must be made within minutes. That’s what you and I have been trained to do. I made a decision that really was not mine to make. The men came as called and we took the Danes by surprise and ‘kicked arse’. Having God ‘rain fires from the sky’! How many bishops did you have at Hastings? If they, and the pope, can’t get that to happen, what chance do I? Absolute rubbish! I did have some onagers to throw some rocks on their heads,” said Alan with less than honesty, bending the truth almost beyond recognition.

“Onagers?” asked William.

“Yes, I have four now, and a few ballistae,” replied Alan.

“I’ll have to make sure you are at my next siege!” commented William.

“It’s all nothing new. It’s all in the books the Romans wrote 500 years or so ago. No real changes since then, except that the cataphracts are now called knights and don’t have bows. You’ve learned your history and that tells you what to do now. I just apply what other people learned in the past. If you don’t have copies already, I can send you copies of the works of Vegetius’ Epitoma rei militaris.”

William inclined his head. “I do have a copy, thank you for the offer. Perhaps I need to read it again! What of being ‘the king of Tendring Hundred’?” he asked with a smile.

“That’s not a big kingdom!” replied Alan. “As you said, Tendring, like England, only has one king- which is not me! Certainly I have some influence there, your gift of manors and jurisdiction in the Hundred court made sure of that. The Danish raiders provided both an incentive and an opportunity. The Hundred learned that the sheriff would not act to protect them, and when they protected themselves they won booty, mainly in weapons, that was distributed amongst those who fought. Myself and my Norman retainers have spent some time teaching the fyrd how to fight, and they’ll give a good account for themselves next time they’re in the battlefield. My men are your men, and the fyrd when next called out will do well.”

“When next called out by whom?” asked William, tilting his head to one side in query.

Alan smiled. “To be honest, probably by me. FitzWymarc had the opportunity in the spring to protect the shire from the Danes. He sat at Colchester and did nothing. The shire residents remember that and also remember who did take up the challenge. I have my obligations to you and also to my people. As regards fitzWymarc, there are seventeen Hundreds in Essex. If you make a full call for the fyrd, I expect my men, from one Hundred, would account for a quarter of the total who respond- and who will all be trained and properly equipped, not arriving at the battlefield with pitch-forks and scythes and no idea what to do. The fyrd fitzWymarc raises cannot protect the shire. The fyrd I raise from my Hundred can and has.”

William sighed and said, “I’m told to beware of your political ambitions.”

Alan laughed. “I have no political ambitions. I made my oath of homage to you. I hold eight manors. I seek no more. I don’t want to be an earl. That’s too much work and too much responsibility. I’ve been quietly sitting in my little corner of England causing as little trouble as possible, while looking after my people, Norman and English, and doing my duties as best I can. Some Normans seem to think that the law and accepted practice don’t apply to them. Even in Essex we have been hearing of Hugh fitzGrip’s pillaging of Dorset, apparently in your name as he is the sheriff, and fitzScrob in Hereford.”

William snorted and said, “And your ‘army’ in Essex?”

“I’m not sure that you can call 26 huscarles and 20 mounted men-at-arms an army,” replied Alan. “Most armies have more than 50 men. These are more than I can afford from the revenues of my estates, but my wife and her family are wealthy merchants and at the moment are prepared to support the military men I have raised to support the defence of the Hundred- from their money, not mine. My obligation is six men, which I can afford,” said Alan, blithely ignoring the truth. “I had to take possession of three of the manors you gave as part of my honour from the family of the previous landholder, and my men had to kill two of those who felt they had a better claim. One was killed by my Englishmen as he attacked me with sword drawn. Most of my ‘army’, led by two of my Normans, is garrisoning those three manors to keep the locals in line.”

“My Norman lords tell me that you ‘have gone native’ and become more English than the English.”

“Hardly! I have four Normans in charge of my troops. As you yourself know, finding Normans in the army who will act reasonably and honestly and cause their lord no difficulties is like finding gold on the beach. By definition, the Normans and Frenchmen who have come here are ambitious men seeking money and position. I don’t have a problem with that, but many men are going outside of what is acceptable behaviour even for invaders. I count myself lucky to have the four I have. As for the junior officers and spear-fodder, the English do well enough for that. I speak their language, which I need to do if I want to understand them and be able to give even simple instructions to a spearman. Even with a quite liberal policy to my geburs and thegns I find I still need the mailed fist inside the velvet glove.

“I have preferred, in the Hundred court, claims by English against the men of Bishop William. Ordering an English servant to severely beat the steward of a neighbouring thegn who is relaying a complaint, or a Norman servant who blatantly rapes an English maid of good repute in a neighbouring village, is not acceptable to me as Justice of the Hundred court. If you expect a different approach, I’m happy enough to resign and you can appoint who you wish. Even on campaign you regularly hang those of your soldiers caught in rape- without the benefit of a trial. You forbade me to hang Normans or French, so I used the penalty you specified- blinding and castration. It wasn’t my fault that the man died after his own lord turned him out after we returned the felon to him after punishment.”

“And you’ve taken an English wife, I hear.”

Alan nodded and said, “I’m not alone in that, both before and after the conquest. Until the Norman lords returned with you this week, England wouldn’t have had a handful of eligible ladies from Normandy, Maine, France, or wherever. England has a surfeit of young eligible women of quality, at least 1,000 of them widows of the thegns killed at Stamford Bridge and Hastings. Most currently have a dislike for us ‘Frenchmen’, but the bartering of brides, particularly those with land, has already begun and I’m sure will gain pace now that the great lords who accompanied you to Normandy have returned.

“I understand that there is a rush for places in nunneries by those seeking to avoid the marriages arranged for them. Arranged marriages are usual of course, but not usually in return for cold hard cash! My lady Anne was in the process of being sold off by fitzWymarc to an elderly Norman knight who has a reputation for beating his wives to death. She was reluctant to acquiesce and saw me as a viable alternative. There is some question regarding her estate of Wivenhoe, which I would ask that you resolve. Her former husband Aelfric held the manor for over ten years. He died at Stamford Bridge. He paid no laen, no rent, to anybody, but the land ownership book cannot be found and I expect that Earl Ralph the Staller will shortly be seeking an audience with you, if he hasn’t already, claiming that land is his to dispose of as he wishes. It would cause me some difficulty, and a potential conflict of my interests to you as your man, if I had to swear fealty to Ralph for Wivenhoe.”

“You would have taken Anne to wife whether she had Wivenhoe or not?” demanded William, apparently living up to his reputation as a man who gave nothing for nothing. Alan frowned and nodded. Before he could say anything further the king continued, “Well, let’s remove that potential conflict and give the land to another needy Norman knight.” William looked closely at Alan for his reaction.

Alan thought for a moment and then said, “That would be… ungenerous, particularly given I have already paid a Redemption Relief on the land of four times its value.”

“I’m not known for my generosity,” rejoined William.

As Alan paused for reflection he made a non-committal gesture with his hand. He couldn’t tell if William was being serious, testing him or enjoying himself by making an underling uncomfortable. “I had intended to raise with you a separate matter after our other business was concluded, but it may be best to raise it at this time.” Alan paused again, leaning forward with his elbows on the table and rubbing his chin reflectively with his right hand. “When we defeated the Danish raid earlier in the year we took a certain amount of booty, which in the main I distributed to the men who fought, and fought well, to earn us that victory. I’m sure that most gambled, whored or drank it away in days, but that’s the way of soldiers.

“Amongst the booty I have eight Danish longships. I would like to keep two myself, for local transportation, but I had intended today to make a gift to you of the other six. Since 1051, when King Edward disbanded the small fleet he had, England has had nothing more than what trading ships can be requisitioned at short notice. These longboats are warships of twenty oars, ten aside, and are able to carry sixty men. If armed with cross-bows they would be a formidable force. If I did have political pretensions, I’d retain these until I became the earl of East Anglia!

“With these, you could protect the shipping moving between Dover and Calais, which would allow the ladies of the royal court to move backwards and forwards without risk, other than from storms- and if you can’t get a ship captain who can tell a storm is only two hours away he shouldn’t be in charge of the transport. If the weather is good they could sail up to London, which would be quicker and more comfortable than riding from Dover. You’d need to crew the ships of course. I don’t have the men, which is why they are laid up at Thorrington, so don’t ask me to contribute. But a levy of one man from each manor in Kent, Middlesex and Sussex, and the hiring of six professional captains, perhaps Norwegians, should take care of that. Normandy and England have no professional fighting fleet. The English are paying a massive amount of money in Danegeld for protection- it’s not just a tax. They’re not getting anything in return.

“I sold a couple of boats in Norway after I captured them. What I have been doing in Essex, on your behalf and that of the people of my Hundred, does not come cheaply and really is a royal, or at least an earl’s, responsibility. I received?57 for each ship sold- which would be?342 for six. As proof of my loyalty, you can have the six ships for nothing. When and not if the Danes come, you’ll need them- and twenty or thirty more besides.”

William looked at Regenbald who commented, “Having warships to escort the transport and passenger ships and the trading ships will give much heart to the nobles and their wives who are travelling in dangerous conditions. Wind, tide, storms and pirates are all something they have difficulty in dealing with. Small groups of a dozen or so people would be able to travel on the warships themselves. A naval force at Dover would also encourage the merchants to be more active as they would have better protection.”

William gave Regenbald a flat look. “What the merchants want is not high on my list of priorities, but making travel safe between Flanders and England would be useful.”

William was transferring his gaze to Alan when the latter interrupted and said, “You discount the benefits of the merchants too much, my liege. A successful trading voyage sees the crew spending perhaps?50 in wages and share of profits in their home town. The merchant will spend several hundred pounds buying cloth, or wool or whatever is to be exported, a substantial part of which finds its way into your coffers as taxes or other fees that you charge. Some finds its way into the coffers of your knights and is used to support their services to you.

“Most particularly, a laden merchant ship coming into one of your ports will pay port taxes, excises, import taxes and so on of perhaps?50. Each week there will be perhaps 25 or 30 vessels arriving, from which as I said you probably receive on average?50 each. That’s over?1,000 a week to the royal treasury. That amount is four times as much as you receive from your royal estates. It’s not an amount to be discarded just because you dislike the merchant class. Money is money and it matters not where it comes from.” Here Alan was talking William’s language.

“Regenbald, every time I talk to this man he talks sense, even if I don’t agree with him,” said the king. “I know that he’s on the Curia Regis. Put him on my Inner Council. As for Wivenhoe, forget it- the Charter will be in your hands tomorrow. I intended to reward you for your loyal actions with the grant of manors in Herefordshire along the Welsh border, with a view to keep you too busy to cause any more problems. I’ll get Regenbald to give you the details of those fiefs. Perhaps your novel ideas are worth the problems they cause and you’re better left in London. How would you treat the problems with the Welsh and with this Eadric ‘The Wild’?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been too busy with affairs in the east. I can look at it and make some suggestions in two to three months,” replied Alan.

“Two to three months. I thought you were going to say two to three days,” said William with some asperity.

“The English have been fighting the Welsh for 500 years and you want an answer in a week?” rejoined Alan cheekily.

William pulled a wry face and replied, “Yes, perhaps it’s not an easy answer.” After a pause he continued. “On a different vein, I’m having a Hunt in two days time. A big affair with lots of beaters- deer, boar and so on. You’re invited. Also, William de Warenne’s wife, Gundred of Flanders, is holding a soiree tomorrow night. I’ve given instructions to ensure that you and …Anne, isn’t it?… are invited. It appears we need to have you brought back to the fold of us Normans.”

“I’m not sure which will require more nerve, dancing or going out where I’m likely to get an arrow in the back,” said Alan sardonically. William raised an eyebrow in question. “Hunts are notorious places for ‘accidents’. And I hate dancing,” explained Alan. William smiled sympathetically.

Later that day, despite Alan’s objections, Owain took Alan to an armourer on Coleman Street and arranged a padded vest to be made, with metal plate inserts, to be ready the following morning. Owain was as aware as Alan of the risks of Hunts and the opportunities to dispose of opponents, and with Anne’s agreement he brooked no refusal. Alan agreed, as long as he could also wear the armoured vest to the dance. Anne refused, as she thought that the ladies were unlikely to put a knife in his ribs during the dancing. His dancing wasn’t that bad.

The soiree was held at the Great Hall in Westminster. Just as most of the Norman nobles had accompanied him to Normandy during the summer months, now they had returned with him, many with their wives. William’s wife Matilda had not yet journeyed to England as her husband was not prepared for her to risk the winter storms even for a journey of twenty or so miles.

Again conservatively dressed, Alan and Anne joined the short line for an introduction to William de Warenne and his wife Gundred. Gundred took Anne aside for a brief chat and then arranged for Alan and Anne to be introduced to the Normans in the party by Roger Bigod, the sheriff of Suffolk and who Alan had already met, and his wife Alice, of the de Tosny family.

Alice was about 22 years old, took Anne in hand and disappeared with her into the crowd.

Alan and Roger both took a cup of wine from a passing servant. Both drained them at a gulp. Alan sighed. Roger commented, “You appear to still be standing in the sun with the king.”

Clapping an open hand on Roger’s shoulder Alan replied, “We are two honest men together. A rarity in England today! Yes, I’ve spoken to the king. I’ve been promoted to his Inner Council, where we’ll discuss a load of shite that has nothing to do with the proper working of the kingdom. Thanks for forwarding the depositions of complaint I gave to you.”

“My job,” replied Roger briefly.

“But not that easy! The king is aware of your actions and honesty,” said Alan.

“You got in before I could be corrupted, and having an alternative option was beneficial. If Earl Ralph had put pressure on me before you did, who knows what I may have done? If nothing else, I can demand a higher bribe next time! By the way these two young gentlemen with me are Gilbert d’Aufay and Raoul Boutin. Raoul is a man of Richard fitzGilbert of Clare and Gilbert came with Count Robert of Mortain.” Both the men introduced were in their mid-twenties.

“Then my visit to you was a timely intervention on my part!” replied Alan, sipping at another cup of wine that had been delivered, before clasping the arm of each of the two men he had been introduced to. “How are you two getting along? You both have fiefs?”

Raoul nodded and replied, “I hold Haughley in Stow Hundred in Suffolk from Richard fitzGilbert, and Gilbert has a manor in Herefordshire. We were just discussing the problem of ruling a manor, and indeed a country, where every man hates you.”

“I’m sure that the ‘king of Tendring’ can give you some hints,” said Roger with a twinkle in his eye.

Alan pulled a wry face. “Remember two simple things. Firstly that, apart from a few slaves, all the men and women on your manors are freemen and freewomen with rights before the law- they are not villeins or serfs. Also, most of the slaves only have that status for a short period until they have paid off the debt or fine that gave rise to their bondage. Secondly, pay respect to the traditions and laws of the villagers and the English in general. Now Gilbert, where is your manor? I’ve just been lumbered by the king with four manors on the Welsh border, so it seems we’ll be neighbours of a sort.

“My manor is at Burton, in the Golden Valley,” replied Gilbert. Both he and Raoul were agog that somebody of apparently modest mean, not mixing with the great lords, could see the gift of four manors from the king’s own hand as being a nuisance rather than the ultimate accolade that a knight could receive.

“Your manors are to the west of Hereford, so there’s probably not much left after Bleddyn of Gwynedd and Eadric cild have been burning most of the shire during the summer and autumn. That’ll keep you busy,” said Roger with a grimace.

“That’s the king’s idea, I think,” said Alan with a scowl.

Roger continued, “Gilbert here was just saying that with any luck most of the English thegns won’t be able to afford their Relief and there’ll be more land parcelled out to good Normans. Perhaps earls Edwin and Morcar will fall out of favour and their lands will also be redistributed.” Here Roger pointed a finger to a small group of Englishmen who Alan hadn’t noticed so far.

“Indeed,” replied Gilbert eagerly, as Roger and Alan gave them a nod and began to move away through the crowd.

As they moved away Alan commented “What a fucking mess! We have people like you and me who do our job and try to preserve the kingdom. And we have the robber-barons who extort every penny they can for their own benefit, including a half-brother of the king. One senior baron, who led one wing of the attack at Hastings, decides in a huff to attack the king’s own castle at Dover, because he thinks he should have been appointed castellan, and then tries to blame the Kentishmen! Osulf of Northumbria, of the Bamburgh family, murders Copsi the king’s appointed earl, and then a month or two ago gets himself killed by bandits. And the Normans are lining up like vultures to take every manor they can. Let’s get some benefit from this evening. Can you conduct me around the room and introduce me to the various counts and nobles? I’ve seen most of them at a distance and it may be helpful to meet them socially- outside of business, as it were.”

Those at the party were in their way more notable than those at the soiree held by Queen Edith months previously. Although some of the lords had brought their wives with them when they had returned with William, or those who had stayed over the summer had sent for them, the great majority of those present were male. The wives of some of the greater nobles were present, along with those of the middling and lesser lords.

The younger men were almost exclusively bachelors. They had been poor landless second and third sons in Normandy before the invasion, and since arriving in England their chances of marrying a wife of Norman, French, Flemish or other continental origin, let alone marrying well, had been virtually nil as there had simply been no suitable women available. A few, like Alan, had married Englishwomen, but even fewer had brought them to the soiree.

Of the men, they were divided into three distinct age groups. The first was those more elderly than William, who had helped protect him and secure him in his position as Duke of Normandy. These included Count Robert of Eu and Hugh de Montford.

The second group was comprised of William’s contemporaries- mostly his friends, but a few such as Hugh de Grandmesnil with whom William had fallen out with over the years and more latterly reconciled. They were in the main between 45 and 50 years old and included Roger de Montgomerie, Richard fitzGilbert, Geoffrey de Mandeville and the somewhat younger William de Warenne, who with his Flemish wife Gundred was hosting this party. Judging by the sour expression on his face and the amount of wine he was consuming, the party clearly was something that wasn’t William de Warenne’s idea. This tight-knit group were closely related by marriage or birth. Bishop Odo of Bayeux and Count Robert of Mortain were half-brothers to the king. William fitzOsbern and most of the others were cousins and similar relations.

A few younger long-time supporters such as Stephen, the Count of Treguier, Brittany and Lamballe, fitted in between William’s cronies, along with the sons of the older group, such as William of Eu and the new men achieving position as a result of the invasion- including Alan himself, Roger Bigod, Hugh fitzGrip, Ivo Taillebois and many others.

Noticeable amongst the absentees were most of the clergy, including Odo of Bayeux and the Englishmen Aealdred of York and Stigand of Canterbury.

It would be unfair to describe King William as paranoid. He’d had a difficult late childhood with repeated attempts to murder him. He’d had to fight to take his position as duke against a number of rebels, most of whom had been close to his father, Robert the Magnificent. He had lost three guardians either to murder or in defending him as a child as he was taken to safety.

His guardians had moved him every month or so to preserve his security. William, at the age of 19, finally secured control of Normandy by defeating rebel Norman barons at Caen in 1047. He then had to fight off two invasion attempts by the French in 1054 and 1057- the French once again had some treacherous Normans fighting on their side in those invasions.

During the time, until he had Normandy fully under his iron fist, raids, battles and murder between the nobles of Normandy had been common. William had extended his power and influence with a series of carefully considered steps.

One of those steps was marrying Matilda of Flanders, which had initially secured his northern flank, and more latterly since the death of King Henry of France and the appointment of William’s father-in-law Baldwin of Flanders as guardian of the young King Philip, also secured the east. The west had been secured by the installation of a friendly regime in Brittany when invasion had not initially been successful, after Duke Conan died of poison in suspicious circumstances. In the south Maine had been annexed and formed a buffer against the hostile Angevins. It was the relative peace and security in Normandy which had permitted William to make his bid for the English throne.

It would be fair to say that by winter of 1067 William was very, very careful about who he trusted and to whom he gave power and land- land which gave the ability to raise military forces for or against him. Even as late as the summer of 1067 William had suffered the defection of Eustace of Boulogne, who made a raid on Dover. Those who received the main benefits of the invasion were those who had supported William for 20 years or more and who had contributed substantially to the invasion fleet. Most were close relations, with ties of kinship or marriage.

As Alan progressed around the Hall it was almost as if he had the same conversation a dozen or so times. The Norman barons were interested only in military matters, land and developing relations that improved their access to military forces and land. Many were illiterate, with no knowledge or interest in French or Latin literature, and had most had no interest in writing, poetry or anything that didn’t improve the strength of their swords.

Based on their own experience in Normandy over the last thirty years they saw ‘might as right’ and had no respect for law, whether it be Norman or English. They expected England to become a reflection of Norman society and had no understanding of, and even less interest in, English society, heritage, language or literature. They had some understanding of the English fyrd as a potential foe, but not as a force to be used for their own benefit. In discussion with them Alan felt as if he was talking to foreigners. These were men with whom he shared only nationality and language, not ideas.

All were more or less polite- Alan’s position on the Curia Regis saw to that. Almost without exception they showed a keen intelligence and focused interest in their own welfare. The fact that many were illiterate did not mean they were stupid. Some had been taught at least rudimentary scribing to allow them to scan documents and letters.

Earl Ralph of Anglia, against whom Alan had intended to bring a number of charges before the Curia, acknowledged Alan briefly before turning away. Only William fitzOsbern, the Marcher Lord of Hereford who would need Alan’s support and co-operation to protect the shire, showed any real interest in Alan and made a suggestion that they meet at some stage to discuss what Alan intended to do to protect a substantial stretch of fitzOsbern’s western border.

Some of the Norman lords now had their wives in England and of those only a few of those were absent from what was in effect the first Norman social event in England. Largely the men and women stood and chatted in separate groups, although there was some intermingling between the males and females. FitzOsbern had his wife Adelize at his side for most of the evening. Alan was introduced to Hawise Sourdeval, wife of Stephen Count of Brittany; Matilda, wife of Robert Count of Mortain and daughter of Roger de Montgomerie; Beatrice de Builly. wife of Robert Count of Eu; and the famed beauty Adelize de Tosny, the wife of Hugh de Grandmesnil, who still looked ravishing despite now being in her mid-thirties. Notable by her absence was Duchess Matilda, William’s as yet uncrowned wife, who remained in Normandy.

Most of the grand ladies had at least two or three of the wives or daughters of lesser lords in attendance on them, with the parties of ladies moving, coalescing and separating. Alan could see Anne moving amongst them, escorted by Roger Bigod’s wife Alice, and thought that Gundred’s choice of a de Tosny, a respected Norman family, the wife of a man who was a middling landholder and the sheriff of one of the lesser shires, was an excellent choice of escort- not least because Alice’s outgoing and humorous nature would make her naturally popular.

The recent political events dominated conversation. Although not recent news, the invasion of Herefordshire by the combined forces of the Welsh and the Englishman Eadric ‘the Wild’ had caused extensive damage and loss of life in that shire, to the particular concern of those who held manors in the west. The curious actions of Count Eustace of Boulogne, who had fought under William at Hastings and then retired back to the continent in a pique of wounded pride when he failed to receive what he felt was due reward, received much discussion.

Eustace appeared to believe that he had some claim of right to the town of Dover dating back to a visit he had made when Edward was still king. In September he had returned apparently at the prompting of some disaffected Kentishmen, although why he would receive such encouragement from the men of Kent nobody knew, given their hatred of him. Even though Odo of Bayeux and the castellan of Dover Castle Hugh de Montford were absent with most of the garrison, the remaining garrison had driven Eustace off and he had taken ship and fled back to his own lands on the continent.

However, the main talk was of the rebellion of the city of Exeter, which had been the immediate cause of King William’s return a few days previously. Exeter had refused to swear fealty to the king, unlike London and Winchester, stated they intended to maintain their ancient rights and expelled the small local garrison. Their main concerns appeared to be the reintroduction of the geld tax and what they saw as their loss of privileges. Unfortunately for the citizens of that city King William was in no mood to conciliate their concerns and was gathering an expeditionary force.

Roger and Alan gravitated towards the group standing near the head-table, which currently comprised King William and most of the English party, including Edgar the Aetheling and both Earl Morcar and Earl Edwin, about a dozen young Englishmen to the age of twenty-five or so, and several older English nobles including Thorkel of Arden and Aethelnoth of Canterbury. Of the three young English lords the eldest was Edwin at nineteen. Edgar the Aetheling, the sole remainder of the line of King Alfred, was barely fifteen.

Seeing the direction of their progress, both Hugh de Grandmesnil and his wife Adelize drifted with them. After the nine months or so in Normandy after Hastings, when William had toured the duchy in a triumphal procession in which the English earls had been displayed as trophies, the younger Englishmen were aping the Normans and wearing Norman tunics and hose, rather than tunics of English cut and trews. The older Englishmen, who had stayed in England, were more traditionally dressed. Apart from King William, the group contained half a dozen Norman lords including Aubrey de Vere, Robert Malet, the son of William Malet, and William Peverel.

Alan thought that Edgar the Aetheling was looking around like a small loach in a pond of big pike, feeling like he was about to be gobbled up at any moment. Morcar and Edwin looked self-satisfied at the attention they were receiving. The senior English lords looked as if they would prefer to be in the deeper reaches of hell rather than chatting amiably with Norman barons.

Alice Bigod had clearly been keeping a close eye on matters and with impeccable timing that would have done a general proud brought Anne to the group just as the men arrived. Adelize de Grandmesnil had not met Anne, and Alice dealt with the introductions, with mutual cooings, as Alan, Roger and Hugh made their obeisance to the king. Then Alan presented Anne to William. After a half-bow to first Adelize and then Alice, William took Anne’s hand and raised it to his lips as his eyes took in her short slender build, rich auburn hair, fair face, her tasteful heavily-embroidered but restrained dress and heavy jewellery. At eighteen Anne was in the full bloom of her beauty, and while William was faithful to his wife Matilda this did not prevent him from appreciating beautiful women who were presented to him. He reluctantly released her hand and allowed her to take her husband’s arm, as already had Alice.

Alan nodded heavily to Edgar, not quite a half bow but showing significant respect. With a smile he said in English, “Greetings, Edgar the Aetheling! There’s no need to be on your guard tonight against the Normans- if they were going to kill you they would have done so months ago! The English I can make no promises about!”

Edgar looked surprised to hear his own language spoken in such a friendly tone and smiled in response. “It’s good to be back on my home soil again, and King William has promised that after the hunt in two days time I’ll be free to return to my own manors in Sussex and Mercia.”

“Just be careful of the company you keep when you get back home,” Alan gently warned the likeable young lad.

The other two teenagers, Morcar of Northumberland and Edwin of Mercia, two of the remaining English earls, were much less likable, standing with their cronies and with supercilious looks on their faces, their hair pomaded with scented oils and careful attention paid to their clothing and coiffure. Given their ages the moustaches so beloved of the English warrior were barely nascent stubble on their upper lips. They stood slightly aloof from the group containing King William and Edgar and, while looking at Alan and his lady with interest, made no attempt to join them- forcing Alan and Anne, arm in arm, to take the several steps to approach them.

Roger Bigod did not know the earls or their party, so Alan introduced himself as ‘Alan of Thorrington’, naming his lady and the Bigods, speaking in Norman French. Morcar, the younger of the brothers, replied abruptly in English, “Thorrington? Never heard of it!” Anne’s face coloured at the deliberate rudeness.

Alan gave a slow smile, allowing contempt to cloud eyes and both contempt and sarcasm his voice. “No reason you should,” he replied, still speaking in Norman French-a language he knew that the earls understood “It’s an English property, not some tiny village in Normandy, but it is outside your earldom so I suppose we can forgive your ignorance. My friend Roger is the sheriff of Suffolk. I would imagine you have heard of the shire of Suffolk? Roger speaks some English, but his beautiful wife Alice does not. As you and your friends speak French, I’m speaking French out of courtesy to her.” Alan noted that King William had followed quietly behind them and from several paces away, while looking absorbed in other matters, was listening to the conversation. “As for not having heard of me, I am sure that in due course events will overcome that. After all we’re all members of the king’s Curia and will meet shortly in an official capacity.”

“And you, Lady Anne, what are you doing in such disreputable company?” asked Morcar, in English, in a light tone of voice, pretending the comment to be a joke rather than the veiled insult it was.

Still arm in arm with Alan, Anne patted his hand on her arm and replied in Norman French, “I’m in the company I choose to be in- friends I’ve made at court, both Norman and English. My good friends the Bigods, some other friends made here tonight. My husband treats me much better than Aelfric, my previous husband. I chose my current husband and wasn’t sold off to the highest bidder. And my husband has proven his ability to defend myself, my people and my village.”

Edwin snapped the fingers of his right hand. “Ah! The Defender of Wivenhoe. We have indeed heard of you. A significant effort to defeat the Danish. You must have been proud of the men of your shire that day!”

“And it proves the value of the Englishman as a warrior,” interjected Morcar.

Alan gave flat and expressionless look at first one and then the other. “As to the ability of the English as fighters, the two of you as veterans of the battle of Fulford Gate would have better knowledge, as my force had no huscarles and few thegns.”

The English present gave a perceptible wince at hearing this. Edwin and Morcar had led the English forces against the Norwegians when they had landed in the north the year before, suffering a humiliating loss of both the battle and the city of York, only overcome days later when Harold Godwinson had achieved surprise by arriving from the south by forced marches and taken the Norwegians by surprise on the day they had been expecting to receive hostages from the people of Yorkshire and were unready to fight.

Alan continued, “We fought as a combined force in the Norman manner. Almost all of my men were English and, yes, I was proud of the way they fought! Right down to the slaves wielding pitchforks to protect themselves and their families. Properly equipped, properly trained and properly led, the English make the finest foot-soldiers in Europe. The problem the English have had for the last 300 years, since Alfred the Great, is that apart from 1,000 or so huscarles and a similar number of thegns, they have neither been properly equipped or trained. And since Alfred they have not been properly led. Edmund Ironside, had he lived beyond his early twenties, may have been a man to lead you to greatness, but from your point of view, regrettably not.”

One of the English party burst out, “What about King Harold, don’t you rate him well as a leader?”

“Harold and before him Godwin were certainly good administrators. They basically had to run the kingdom for The Confessor. As I understand it, Harold Godwinson was a very capable and likeable man. As a good general? He won the victory at Stamford Bridge by gathering and moving his army quickly and falling on the Norwegians by surprise when they were unprepared. Good aggressive tactics in forcing the encounter on his own terms, but once he had achieved surprise and his army was fighting a Norwegian army that were largely improperly armed and armoured, a ten-year old should have been able to lead his forces to victory, particularly when Hardrada was killed early in the battle.”

Alan felt Anne’s fingers digging into his arm, either in warning or annoyance he could not tell. “As to Hastings, again he got his army there quickly, assumed an excellent defensive position that should have been unassailable, but from what we Normans could see once he set up his flag he didn’t move all day. We saw no evidence of any leadership at Hastings. The English just stood and fought- and fought well! Unbelievably well. They refused to give up even when the battle was clearly lost, and still fought on with courage and ability- but with no leadership, just dogged determination.

“At Wivenhoe we fought smart. We knew the Danes would be coming. We’d seen them row up the river. Whether they won or lost at Colchester we knew they would be coming back and stop at Wivenhoe. We had time to plan, prepare and undertake some basic training of the raw troops, and to call in every man in the Hundred. The Danes came in dumb and stupid, totally unprepared and thinking it was like an afternoon walk. We took them by surprise and made them pay for their arrogance- although there were too many English bodies lined up by the church waiting for burial after the battle. The Danes we just threw in a ditch and filled it in.”

“I’m sure that 500 of my men would be more than a match for yours, and your vaunted ‘combined forces’ theory,” said Morcar hotly in English.

Alan gave him a calm look and confident smile before replying in Norman French, “I would hope that never happens, Morcar, because that would mean that something is very amiss in the kingdom if North is fighting South. But if it does, we will see what we will see! Now, I do see that we are being called to table for the feast, so we will bid you both farewell as I’m sure you will have a much more exalted place than we poor country folk.”

The guests were indeed heading towards the tables and being shown their seats.

As they walked slowly across the Hall Hugh de Grandmesnil clapped Alan on the shoulder and said quietly, “The king and I were listening in on your conversation with the English and what you said put the insolent young puppies in their place! Well said! After their defeat at Fulford Gate, having their balls saved by Harold taking a new army north, and then failing to march south to support him at Hastings, I think that they’re hardly qualified to give anybody a lecture on military tactics!”

Anne had been surprised by the positive reception she had received from the few Norman ladies at the levee when introduced by Alice. She had anticipated a Norman anti-English clique. Instead she had found a number of women of several nationalities, almost all of whom were related by birth or marriage, who had their own cliques and were more than happy to see a new face and hear new stories. Long-held family conflicts and more recent instances of perceived slights and arguments had fractured the female Norman nobility into several groups.

Alice Bigod was not firmly the member of any group and both she and Anne were welcomed as they moved around the room. Anne’s accent was not an issue when all the other ladies spoke French with Norman, Flemish, Breton, Danish or other regional accents. Many of the ladies of the great barons remained in Normandy where it was deemed safer- after all, the king had not yet brought his wife Matilda to England. Matilda, with the advice and assistance of Roger de Montgomery and Hugh d’Avranches, ruled Normandy during William’s periodic absences.

As Alan had anticipated he and Anne were seated at one of the lesser tables with other minor lords, including the Bigods, William Malet, William de Bernieres and Ivo Taillebois. The high table held the grand lords- de Warenne, de Mandeville, fitzGilbert, fitzOsbern, de Montford, Robert of Mortain, de Grandmesnil, the king’s niece Countess Judith, together with others including the English earls.

Two other Englishmen, Thorkel of Arden the son of Aethelwine the sheriff of Warwickshire, and Edward ‘The Rich’ of Salisbury and the sheriff of Wiltshire, sat at the high table with King William. Thorkel and Edward had kept their distance from the Aetheling’s party all evening and clearly had no wish to be associated with them. The small landholders and hangers-on sat on benches at long trestle tables that had been quickly put up by the servants and which would be taken down again later when the dancing started. Alan noticed his old friend Robert de Aumale sitting amongst the hoi polloi and made a mental note to speak with him before the evening was over.

The meal was a typical Norman feast, beginning with apples, stored in a cool place but still a little wrinkled due to their storage since harvest, and dried dates and figs. Then came the first remove of roast chicken and roast goat kid with cooked vegetables, including lettuce, cabbage, purslane and spinach. Later came the second remove of pork and beef with beet, radish, beans and parsnip. The meal finished with aged cheese and sweet desserts. The repast was taken leisurely and lasted about one and a half hours, with servants bringing bowls of water and linen cloths for the guests at the higher tables to use to clean their hands after each course.

Alan shared a trencher and a cup with Anne, using his knife to prepare her food into bite-sized pieces to allow her to remain neat, delicate and immaculate, and to preserve the cleanliness of her clothing. The wine they drank, well watered, was of reasonable quality. Alan assumed that both the food and drink at the high table was more elaborate than they were receiving, and that the masses below were receiving simple but substantial fare. After all, catering for over 100 guests would not be an easy exercise for Gundred’s cooks.

The conversation and gossip continued to flow, with William fitzOsbern’s appointment as an earl, although currently without any geographical appellation, being discussed favourably. FitzOsbern held large tracts of land in the west and south-west, having been granted much of the land formerly held by the House of Wessex. It was agreed that the intransigence of the citizens of Exeter, not really sufficiently serious to call a rebellion, was most likely the result of the presence in the city of Gytha, the mother of both Harold and to King Edward’s widow, Edith. As Queen Edith was now, after the death of her brothers at Hastings, a staunch supporter of King William, it was agreed that this state of affairs must be deeply embarrassing for her as Exeter was part of her dower lands.

As the guests finished their meal the lesser members of the company were chivvied away from their tables, which were dismantled and removed. The musicians who had been quietly playing lutes, a harp, several flutes, a recorder and a dulcimer, were joined by a drummer and two tambourines.

The hosts William de Warenne and his wife Gundred led the dancers on the floor for a simple processional dance. Alan partnered Anne. This was followed by several circle and line dances, again of relatively simple performance. Next came more complicated line dances, at which point Alan and most of the senior and middle-level Norman lords retired to their tables. This was in turn followed by dances involving pairs, with three or four groups of couples on the dance-floor. The relative paucity of women ensured that Anne and the other ladies were kept busy on the dance-floor, mainly with the younger unattached men who had spent time at court and had learned the social niceties that the older men had missed during their martial training. Some of the dances were processional, some were lively with the dancers singing, clapping their hands and in some cases leaping or hopping.

Alan took time to speak to Thorkel of Arden, an Englishman with substantial land holdings north and south of Coventry, who he found to be a level-headed and intelligent man of about thirty years. Thorkel’s primary concern, like almost all the men in the room, was protecting and expending his lands. Although he had been seated at the table with the Aetheling’s party he had studiously avoided speaking to them and made clear in his discussion with Alan both this distrust and dislike of the young earls. Thorkel had clearly attached himself to the Norman party and had decided that the Aetheling’s party held no benefit or attraction to him.

Robert de Aumale was sitting on a bench far from the high table, sipping a cup of the slightly sour wine provided for the lower-class guests, with a similarly slightly sour expression on his face, when Alan walked up and clasped his shoulder.

“How go things with you, Robert?” he asked. “Have you made your fortune with Geoffrey de Mandeville yet?”

Robert tilted his head as he raised his cup in salute and gave a genuine smile to his friend. “No, not as yet! I’m still accommodated amongst the ‘hangers-on’ with nary a manor in sight.”

“I thought de Mandeville received over 100 manors for his contribution to the invasion,” commented Alan.

Robert snorted in amusement. “Yes, but there were well over 100 knights in the line ahead of me. Not all of us were lucky enough to save the king’s life! There’ll be a few more manors to be handed out in the next few weeks, but I’m so far down de Mandeville’s list of favourites I doubt I’ll see a single acre. I’m thinking about going back to Normandy. There are so many men over here seeking their fortunes that I may be better off back home.”

Alan spent a few minutes asking Robert questions to test his attitude towards the English and found that, unlike most Normans who had a firm dislike of the English, Robert was neutral in his attitude and had taken some steps to learn the basics of the language. As he put it, “You need to at least be able to order a decent meal and drink at a tavern and make sure your horse is being looked after.” Mindful not to make the same mistake he had made in the engagement of Brother Wacian, Alan invited Robert to his house for dinner the next evening at dusk, and provided directions.

Anne spent several rest periods with Alan and the others on his table, and then near midnight she and Alan took their leave and after collecting their escort from the guardroom they walked the short distance to their house. There Anne collapsed tiredly on their bed and fell asleep without even removing her clothes. Alan was never one to miss an opportunity and Anne woke next morning naked and warmly covered by the quilt with Alan asleep curled up into her back. Anne’s gentle but insistent stroking hand soon had Alan awake and hard and they spent an energetic hour or so snug under the covers before rising at midmorning.

Alan and Anne ate a late-morning brunch by the roaring fire in the Hall, warmly dressed against the bitterly cold wind that was blowing that day, which forced itself through every nook and cranny in the building and caused the servants to blow on their hands to warm them as they moved about the house. Usually, in accordance with custom, they ate with the rest of the household but they had risen late, much later the others. Although it was Friday, Alan had instructed the cook Wilda to prepare a brunch of bacon, eggs and sausages, with black pudding- quite different from what the household would be eating that day. Although more religiously observant, Anne made no objection, given the private nature of their meal. Accepting the orders of her husband, she promised herself to say a ‘Hail Mary’ in contrition.

“I’ve asked a friend of mine, Robert de Aumale, from Normandy to come for the evening meal today,” said Alan. “His father, Thibaut, has a manor close to my family at Gauville and we came across together. He’s in Geoffrey de Mandeville’s entourage but isn’t prospering. We were close companions before Hastings. I thought we could use him to administer the manors King William has just given me in Hereford, so I don’t have to spend all my time there chasing after small raiding parties of Welsh hill-men. I’m sure that’s the reason that William gave me those lands was to keep me too busy to cause anybody any trouble! I thought I could appoint Robert Seneschal, and if he proves capable then possibly at a later time enfeoff him with two of the manors.

“For a Norman he’s reasonably intelligent and doesn’t just let his sword do his thinking for him. The Border Country is fighting land and if there is one thing that Normans do well, it’s to fight and protect what they hold. I’ll get you and Osmund to have a look at him tonight and get your opinions first,” continued Alan, showing his respect for the judgment of both his wife and the Englishman who had gone beyond being a servant and was rapidly becoming indispensable.

Anne nodded her agreement and said, “That’s a good idea. I don’t want you out in the wilds of the Welsh border if somebody else can do the job. I’ll look forward to meeting Robert. After all, it’s not as if you have a lot of people you can call friends and it’s good to do a friend a good turn if you can. If he proves capable, by all means let us reward that. While we’re on the topic, I think that it is time to reward Osmund, and make sure we retain his services. There are two virgates of land near Great Bentley where the cheorl who held it in laen from you has died with none to inherit. It’s near to Thorrington and won’t cause any great distraction to Osmund. I’m sure that he’ll feel much more settled if he has land of his own. That would be enough land for him to settle down and perhaps get married, as he would then be most eligible.” Alan’s only objection was a comment that it was probably also time to similarly reward Brand. Anne agreed and continued, “Fine, I’ll arrange the deeds.”

Alan smiled amiably at this typical example of their partnership. He dealt with the military aspects associated with his position with the assistance of Hugh, Brand and the other warrior leaders, and with most of the political matters- although the latter in consultation with Anne and Osmund. His military duties and judicial duties, with him dealing with them properly, together with his ‘tinkering’ in the workshop, left him little time during the day and he was determined that the time after the evening meal at Vespers was his own family time.

Anne dealt with the household and business matters. Administration of the estates was dealt with as a joint responsibility, although in practice Anne made most of the decisions after consultation with Alan and Osmund. They viewed themselves as partners not just physically but also intellectually and economically.

“I’ve invited some ladies for tomorrow afternoon, while you and most of their husbands are off at the Hunt that the king has arranged,” said Anne. “Some are friends I have made at court functions, others may become friends and some will be politically advantageous to be involved with. They’re all either from the same clique, that of the de Grandmesnils, or not associated with any group. A few are English ladies.

“We’re having a poetry recital. Osmund will handle the Latin and French poems and he’s found a suitably impressive speaker to perform some English poems. I’ll host a few more similar events over the next couple of weeks, so I can ‘spin a web’ amongst most of the ‘French’ ladies. I know that description isn’t really fair, as many of them are Flemings, Angevins, Danes and so on, and that the Normans and their language are quite different to the French.

“Many of the ladies have close ancestors or relatives who are Anglo-Saxons, Anglo-Danes or Danes. Most are at best semi-literate and wouldn’t know a good poem if it was a charging horse that ran them over. But with their social pretensions, a poetry recital is both novel and something they can’t resist being seen at, as it proves their intellectual and discerning nature. Some of them I like, and it should be fun.

“I’ll go out this afternoon and arrange some suitable food to be delivered tomorrow morning. Wilda says that she can do a good dish of braised quail in white wine, fruit pies and custard tarts. I’ll order some small gourmet pies, pasties, small sausages and pastries and get some mead and some herbs to make teas. We have plenty of good white and red wine, of course, as well as aged cheeses and candied fruits. Ladies aren’t used to ‘fine dining’ as usually they’re left at home while their husbands go out, so I am sure the food and drink will ‘dazzle’ them, and that going out for a social function while their husbands are doing the same will be attractive, even if some of them have no idea what the performers are saying.”

Alan smiled and nodded at the astuteness of his wife. While they had no political pretensions, the goodwill of the influential families, both their male and female members, could only be of benefit for the future.

Osmund had arrived several days previously following Alan’s request that he contact each of the people from whom they had received depositions with allegations against Bishop William, Earl Ralph and Engelric. Alan had thought that the trio would take steps to resolve the allegations against them and was determined not to be embarrassed by making allegations that would be responded to by the waving of a counter-deposition advising that the matter had been resolved. Alan’s mediocre political position would be seriously damaged by making several dozen complaints if William, Ralph and Engelric had taken steps to resolve them.

“Never trust anybody to do what you expect, especially your enemies,” Osmund had commented in agreement when he had departed on the mission, and his report had shown that Alan had been correct to harbour his suspicions. Each of those who had provided a deposition had been visited by a minion of one of the trio and with many expressions of regret at the misunderstandings and mistakes made, Heriot amounts had been decreased and threats withdrawn. Complainants had been inveigled to sign new depositions stating their satisfaction and sworn to secrecy.

“What do you intend to do?” asked Anne.

Alan shrugged and replied, “We’ve achieved what we set out to do- obtain justice for those being oppressed. The fact that justice was handed out by the malefactors themselves, out of fear of the consequences if they didn’t do so, doesn’t change that fact. Hopefully others will also have benefited already, or may benefit in the future, if the wolves feel something of a collar around their neck- a collar of hemp rope- and modify their behaviour even a little. There appear four or five matters outstanding, which I’ll leave to the Chancellor and the king to investigate. They both know the true state of affairs from my report, so I’d expect these to be resolved quickly. I expect the king to keep a closer eye on things now- not because he’s concerned about the welfare of the cheorls or thegns but because he was being cheated out of the money being extracted. I’d look silly and vindictive if I raised just one or two cases against each malefactor in the Curia, so I’ll let things slide- with a certain amount of relief I must admit.”

Robert de Aumale arrived on time as the sun was setting. It was snowing gently outside and he was rubbing his leather-gloved hands together and shedding drops of water from his cloak as he was ushered into the warm and by now quite richly-furnished Hall. Aidith took his cloak to dry and warm by the kitchen fire as Robert stood by the fire, removed his gloves, which he tucked into his belt, and rubbed his hands together over the red glow of the fire.

The room had been set up with a small table, able to accommodate six, on one side of the central fire and two larger tables for the household staff and soldiers, the three tables arranged in a triangle around the fire. Anne and Alan followed the usual convention of eating together with the household, except of course the kitchen staff and serving maid, and Robert’s eyes widened slightly as eight huscarles swaggered into the Hall and took their places at one of the tables.

“Two are on guard duty,” said Alan as Aidith brought wine for the high table and ale for the others.

“You seem to think that you have some who are not your friends, to have such protection for your house,” commented Robert.

“We know that we have some who are not our friends,” replied Anne firmly as platters of fresh bread, still hot from the oven, were placed on the table, quickly followed by a thick and delicately-seasoned bacon and vegetable pottage. The noise level in the Hall rose as the huscarles and household members consumed their ale. Many a comment was made in a friendly manner to Aidith, but all in the house knew to keep their hands to themselves and that over-familiarity would be tolerated neither by Aidith nor their masters.

During the meal Robert was quietly sounded out by Anne, Osmund and Brand. Alan asked a few questions also, but was satisfied that he knew his friend sufficiently from past experience. Robert’s comments showed him to be intelligent. Although illiterate like most Norman nobles, he was he had a quite wide knowledge of the world and its principal characters, and even a reasonable knowledge of literature and poetry- although entirely memorized. As was the norm with illiterate people his memory hung onto details that many others would forget. Over the main course of barnacle-goose pie with a rich meat gravy and steamed vegetables Robert commented, “I don’t know. Perhaps I’d have been better staying in Normandy, or maybe going to Sicily or Italy. There are so many ahead on me on de Mandeville’s favouritism list that even with the Redemption defaults I expect to happen in a few weeks, that I can’t see myself getting a manor.”

“You see the Redemption defaults as a good thing?” asked Anne.

“Not as such, but they do provide an opportunity for those, Norman or English, with the cash to acquire an honour or two. That doesn’t include me,” he concluded with an evident tone of regret. As the meal progressed Robert showed himself to be a companionable man. Intelligent, without being learned; respectful without being subservient; a good conversationalist with a wry sense of humour. He showed no sign of an over-inflated sense of self-importance- quite the contrary, being modest and self-effacing and with an understanding of the need of a manor lord to work together with his English equals and subordinates. As the main course was cleared away and those at the table washed their hands in bowls of water, Alan looked enquiringly firstly at Anne, then Osmund and Brand. Each in turn gave a nod.

Toying with a piece of bread Alan looked Robert in the eyes and said, “I don’t think you need to go to Sicily. The king has just given me some manors in Herefordshire, right on the Welsh border. I need somebody who can protect and administer those estates properly, as Seneschal. I’m making no promises of a fief at this stage- that will depend on how you perform your duties over the next year. Are you interested?”

With a stunned expression Robert stammered his thanks, which Alan waved away with a comment about ‘mutual advantage’ and instructed Robert to find several men-at-arms to accompany him to the west after Christmas, promising to travel with Robert and bring a suitable company of his own men.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

LONDON LATE NOVEMBER 1067

Alan was amongst a large party of nobles and their entourages who rode out from Newgate and along Watling Street a little before first light. Each noble was expected to have at least two men with him and Alan had chosen Owain and Roger, the former to literally ‘watch his back’. As Owain had said, a hunt was an excellent place for an accident. While Alan felt safe enough, those around him were taking what precautions they could.

The party rode the ten miles west to Hanwell on the River Brent, arriving at the forest in which William had arranged the day’s hunt a little over an hour after departing Newgate. Most of the men were by nature quiet and reserved and there had been little chatter on the way. Alan was wearing a thick jacket over tunic and trews and was well rugged up in his cloak, a scarf and gloves and with a woollen hat on his head.

The day dawned cold and crisp and clear shortly before they reached the village. When they arrived at the village the two taverns were already packed and busy with men who were to attend the hunt. Alan, Owain and Roger sat on a bench outside to partake of the provender that Alan had brought with them. Fresh buttered bread and cheese were washed down with a reasonable French red wine drunk directly from a wineskin they passed between them. Roger Bigod and Aethelnoth of Canterbury sat nearby with their small retinues, and the lords supped in turn from the wineskin with pleasure when offered.

After a wait of a little over an hour the royal party arrived, with King William, fitzOsbern, Odo, de Grandmesnil, de Warenne, Robert of Eu, Robert of Mortain and the other Norman nobles close to the throne. The Englishmen Edgar the Aetheling, Morcar and Edwin, all of whom William appeared to be keeping on a short leash, came trailing behind. Typically, William, still ahorse, demanded to know what they were all doing sitting around drinking and then, guided by a woodsman, led the way into the forest as the others hurriedly mounted and followed.

A mile or so into the forest they came upon the hunting site. Clearly William was not intending to ‘rough it’ and a marquee had been set up for his use and that of his immediate retinue, with food and drink laid out on tables for the chosen few- amongst whom Alan was not included. Beyond were the Hides, five in all. These were chest-high barriers of brushwood aligned east-west, each some fifteen paces long and behind which the hunters could hide as the game was driven towards them by beaters, to then be engaged by the hunters with bow and arrow. Messengers disappeared off into the forest to the north while William and his favourites chatted and ate pies and pastries in the marquee while quaffing cups of wine. Horses were taken well to the rear.

Eventually the party split into five groups, King William at the centre, and each group moved towards one of the Hides. Each Hide was some fifty paces from the next, virtually out of view between the trees and undergrowth. Alan, together with Roger Bigod, Aethelnoth, Aubrey de Vere, Robert Malet, William Peverel and half a dozen others took a Hide on the right, or eastern, side of the line.

Alan picked up a boar-spear, a long and strong spear with a cross-piece, in case something unexpected came out of the forest, but propped it against a tree as he chatted amiably with Roger Bigod, William Peverel and Robert de Aumale, leaning nonchalantly against the tree twenty or so paces behind the Hide. Alan saw the day as a social occasion. With well over 100 men standing behind the Hides, both guests and servants, and with pavilions and fences erected over the past several days, Alan expected few if any animals to make an appearance- those with any sense at all would be miles away.

To Alan’s surprise, a dozen or so deer led by a large hind suddenly burst into view close to the north, emerging from the dim and dark recesses of the forest. Those hunters behind the brushwood shouted a loud ‘Halloo!’ which spooked the animals even further, and the hunters let loose a shower of arrows. The arrows all missed, to the great mirth of those looking on, as the deer turned and fled to safety.

“They couldn’t hit a fucking barn from ten paces!” exclaimed William Peverel, still wheezing from his laughter as he clapped Alan on the shoulder. Clearly this wasn’t a serious hunt for anybody.

Moments later a sow with five piglets appeared, trotting quickly. However, the wind was from the south, and with her snout in the air she led the youngsters off to the east and safety- not that any serious hunter would trouble a female with young.

“Pity about the wind,” said Aethelnoth after putting down his bow and walking back to the others to take a pull at the wineskin.

Just then another small group of deer, this time led by a stag, appeared, distracting everybody and again arrows flew. Alan had moved away from the tree trunk to get a better view when he suddenly felt a blow like a sledge-hammer in his back, driving him to his knees before he pitched forward and struck his head on a rock. Everything went black.

Slowly, things became grey and fuzzy. He became aware of his cheek pressed to the wet earth and pain in both his head and back. Above him men were shouting, calling for a churgeon to remove the arrow protruding from his back. Looking sideways he saw Robert’s anxious face close to his. “Anne was right!” he croaked.

“How are you?” demanded Robert.

“I’ve been better! My head hurts and I have a mouthful of dirt,” he replied, trying to spit out the latter. He flexed his shoulders a little. “Arrow in the back?” he asked. Robert nodded. “What the fuck was Owain doing? He was supposed to be looking after that.” Robert looked confused. “Pull the arrow out and help me sit up,” instructed Alan.

“But they’ve called for a churgeon to cut it out,” said Robert anxiously.

“Fuck that!” whispered Alan. “Even if I needed it, it would take hours for him to get here. Put one foot each side and give big strong pull. No need to worry- armoured vest, but don’t let anybody else know. They can think I’m Lazarus. Sweet Jesus, but it hurts where the arrow hit. I’ll have a bruise like a dinner-plate!”

Robert did as instructed, to the howls of protest from the assembled men, who all knew that an arrow had to be pushed through, and he then helped Alan to sit. “Right! Horses and London,” instructed Alan. Minutes later he was ahorse to the amazement of the onlookers, although still reeling mainly as a result of the blow to the head, and rode off with Robert and Owain.

Just around the first bend of the trail he reined in, turned to the side and spent several minutes vomiting before wiping his mouth with a cloth, wiping the tears from his eyes with the back of a gloved hand and then riding on.

Two hours later he was lying face-down on the bed at the house at Holebourn Bridge, stripped to the waist. “You were right about the bruise,” commented Robert. “It’ll be a beauty.” They’d snuck in the back door to the house and used the servants’ stairs to reach the bedroom on the first floor, as Anne’s poetry recital was still in progress in the Hall.

Anne was pushing and prodding, much to Alan’s discomfort. He tried to reach back with his left hand, but couldn’t reach high enough. “Just in line to pierce the heart from behind. A good shot,” she commented dispassionately.

“Yes, yes woman! You were right, as always! Thank you for insisting that Owain purchase me a padded jacket with metal plates sewn inside. Now can you please stop jumping up and down on my back? You should know by now by the slight springing movement whether the ribs are broken or not. You don’t have to keep trying it out, as it’s not going to change. Get Leof to make an ointment of goose grease with ground arnica root, ivy and rosemary, and an infusion of yarrow, comfrey, chamomile and bark of white-willow. If he brings the medicine box in here I’ll instruct him on quantities and methods.”

“Spoil-sport,” muttered Anne as she rose. “Yes, two ribs broken. Do I get to torture you like you did to me?”

“Just bind them up. A rib broken at the back can’t move as much as one broken at the front.”

“No poppy juice?” asked Anne.

“Certainly not! It hurts, but I can put up with it,” he replied with bad grace. “Nothing a couple of cups of wine and the herbal infusion won’t cure! Now Owain, what the hell were you doing? This is exactly what you were supposed to prevent. You were looking the other way at the deer emerging from the forest? Right! Use your brain, man! If it happens again you’re on the road back to Wales. Assuming I’m not dead, of course!”

A few minutes later Anne slipped back down to her party downstairs, hoping that she hadn’t been missed. Roger and Owain helped Alan into a woollen tunic, before leaving him so they could partake of the mid-day meal with the servants in the kitchen. Alan remained lying face-down on the bed, deep in thought, until he heard the last of the guests leaving a little before sundown, when the abbey bells could be heard ringing for Nones. He then rose and walked rather stiffly downstairs to sit by the fire in the Hall.

“How did the poetry recital go?” he asked Anne after she returned downstairs following her changing out of the finery she had been wearing. Leftover titbits from the recital were placed on platters near their elbows and Alan was enjoying the fine dining.

“Very well. I invited Adelize de Grandmesnil and a few of her friends. Matilda, wife of Robert Count of Mortain who is also the daughter of Roger de Montgomerie; Alice Bigod; Regenbald’s wife Aethelu and his daughter Swanhild, and two other noble Englishwomen I met at Queen Edith’s soiree, Meghan and Odelyn. Both are in their twenties and both are widows of thegns from Hertfordshire and Middlesex who fell at either Stamford Bridge or Hastings. I expect they’ll shortly need all the help they can get from a woman of Adelize’s or Matilda’s standing! Half a dozen others. They were pleasant company, with nobody with anything to prove. Good food and drink.

“We had a lass playing a harp. Osmund handled the French poems. He actually has an excellent speaking voice and good sense of rhythm. I think that the ladies were delighted for a change not to have to listen to martial poems such as the Chanson de Roland, and Osmund chose an excellent set of sensitive poems that I don’t think any of the Norman ladies had heard before. Osmund arranged an elderly man named Aldin to perform the English poems. Again, well-chosen and sensitive, although as far as most of the Norman ladies were concerned Aldin could’ve been speaking in Moorish. Still, they at least pretended to be interested. All in all a most convivial and enjoyable gathering, and very beneficial,” she concluded.

Alan frowned. “I really don’t see the benefit,” he commented.

Anne chuckled, “Well, unless you’re in open revolt against the king, Hugh de Grandmesnil and Robert of Mortain will support you in the Curia and won’t attack you. Having two of the most important lords in the kingdom favourable to you can only be to your benefit. Their wives will direct a favourable policy towards you. Now I must think about what to do regarding this morning’s attempt to murder you.”

** * *

The King’s Chancellor Regenbald sat relaxed in a chair in the Hall of Alan’s London house at Holebourn Bridge, with his booted feet outstretched towards the fire. A cup of mulled ale was held in both hands. Wisps of steam rose from the wet leather as the boots dried. His wife Aethelu, a small dark-haired woman of forty who was still attractive despite her advancing years, sat on a padded double seat with Anne, who had provided her with a fur-lined cloak to wear while her own cloak was dried in the kitchen. Despite being a senior prelate, the Chancellor was like many English priests married and with children. Alan sat in a chair alongside Regenbald, with Osmund and Robert sitting further away. The aged prelate had accepted an invitation to attend for a private supper and his party had been caught in drenching rain on their way through the streets of London.

“I hope that you don’t expect that the king will be grateful for your interference in the operation of the realm,” said Regenbald, sniffing the mulled ale and taking a welcome sip. He had spoken in French in consideration of the fact that Robert was present.

Alan had been about to take a sip of his own fine Bordeaux red and paused with the goblet just below his lips. “Why not?” he asked. “Surely the king is concerned about the proper administration of his kingdom and the welfare of his subjects?”

Regenbald chuckled with seemingly genuine mirth. “You really don’t understand how kings and earls or barons think, do you? Edward the Confessor probably would have cared, but Godwin was in charge of the kingdom until the last few years and it just so happened that by then almost all the earldoms and land were in the hands of Godwin’s family by the time Edward died.

“Harold? Who knows? He came and went so quickly. As long as the oppression and abuse was within reasonable limits and done by his family he probably would let it go. Anybody below the level of thegn is dependent on the goodwill of their lord. Anybody over that level depends on their earl. William is interested primarily in what happens on the continent with his dukedom. England is a means towards an end, not an end itself. It’ll provide him with the wherewithal, mainly money, to protect and further his position in France.

“When he’d just won a kingdom and it required his full attention to make it function properly, what did he do? He went back to Normandy in the spring to prance about all summer. He’s just returned, and only now because of the problem at Exeter. He left the wolves in charge of England in the meantime. He values loyalty above all else. If he believed he could do a deal, he’d sell Northumbria to Lucifer himself in return for a commitment of 1,000 horsemen whenever required. If fact giving Northumbria to Lucifer is probably the best use for it! You can’t trust the Northerners!

“Don’t you think that William knows what is happening in the kingdom? He’s a past master at politics. That requires information. He has spies and informers everywhere. Of course he knew that the English were being robbed blind. Perhaps not the individual cases, but in general terms he knew what was going on. What interests him is money and men-at-arms. With those he can project his power further, particularly given the current Angevin situation on his southern border.

“He values loyalty above all else. Men who have long-term commitments to him and have proved their loyalty are advanced- especially if they’re also relatives, because they can be trusted more. The men left in charge of England were Odo of Bayeux and William fitzOsbern- both are close relatives of the king. FitzOsbern has been more circumspect than Odo in his conduct, and both have not shown the same rapacity as Hugh fitzGrip. Even the English earls and lords such Morcar, Edwin and Thorkel profit themselves as much as possible. William knows what’s going on and chooses to overlook it. Then a minor lord brings multiple complaints about the Bishop of London and the Earl of East Anglia!”

Regenbald reached over to put his now nearly empty mug of ale on a table near his elbow before continuing, “How concerned are you when each spring your sheep are sheared? The wool provides income. That’s what they’re there for. That is what the people of this land are here for. They’ll be sheared close for every penny that can be extracted. What rights do sheep have? None. What rights do the lower levels of society have, in England or Normandy or France? Perhaps more than the sheep, but not so much more as makes any great difference.” After a pause and with a smile he added, “But at least we don’t eat the geburs.”

“So all the effort has been a waste of time,” commented Alan.

“Not… really,” replied Regenbald thoughtfully, his blue eyes glinting over the lip of the mug as he took another sip of mulled ale. “You’ve made three firm enemies, and two of those are the Bishop of London and the earl of East Anglia, so they are of some importance. But you also gained a reputation amongst the few Normans who are not here to rape the country, and the English in the middle and lower ranks. Not that their opinion counts for much, but being something of a folk-hero will give you some protection. Obviously the individuals you helped received benefit from what you have done and will be grateful- however much assistance that may be.

“Given that the matters didn’t proceed to the Curia, William didn’t have to make a choice and I’m sure that if your actions result in a reduction in the excessive depredations against the lower classes he’ll not be displeased, even if he is not overly bothered either way. It’s one thing to shear the sheep and wait for the fleece to grow again. It’s another thing to shear it and also cut off one leg. The sheep would die and you lose the next ten years of wool production. Moderation needs to be shown by the lords. Hopefully your shedding light on what was happening in Essex will reduce some of the excesses. ”

“And the Heriot?” queried Alan.

“It’s part of your Norman law that a Relief has to be paid when a property is passed on. English law had a similar requirement with the Heriot. The king is applying that to all properties held by those who did not actively support him before Hastings. What he and the Curia say is the law, is the law. I know your reservations and share them. What is fair and just, and what actually happens, are very different things and always have been. Nobody says life is fair,” he concluded with a shrug.

“So Alan has incurred the wrath of three powerful men and walks in fear for his life, for nothing?” asked Anne.

Regenbald gave a wry smile. “More than three men! They have powerful friends and many retainers. But also not for nothing- they also have powerful enemies, who now will be more positively inclined to your family. You helped the individuals concerned and have made it likely that abuses will be less blatant in future. And the English will of course love you. Or at least they would if you weren’t a Norman, so perhaps a better word would be ‘respect’.

“You’ve probably gained as much as you’ve lost. Indeed if you had to make enemies these were probably the ones to make as they have relatively little influence. You can’t make friends without making enemies of those who oppose your friends. But I’d suggest that in the future you keep your head down and your mouth shut unless what you’re doing is part of a well thought out plan to advance your own political interests. There’s little benefit in being popular with the English, who either have no power or who are viewed with suspicion. Do you want Edwin and Morcar as your allies? No, I didn’t think so. No sane man would in the present circumstances, even if they weren’t so young and unreliable.

“Stay in the good books of King William, fitzOsbern, de Grandmesnil, Robert of Mortain, Robert of Eu, de Montgomerie and the like. Also Odo of Bayeux, if you can stomach him. Most of them are good enough men, although self-centred and mainly concerned with their own advancement. All are completely ruthless, of course. Iron hands in iron gauntlets.”

“And do you recommend Alan pursue a policy of advancing himself?” asked Anne.

Regenbald gave another small smile before he replied. “No. Neither of you are ruthless enough. You literally have to be prepared to sell your own children, and to sell your integrity, honour and decency. You have to cheat, lie and kill. Better to be a big fish in a small pond, than a medium-sized fish in an ocean full of predators. If nothing else, it’s safer. Now, I’ve heard a whisper on the grapevine from the English that you are a general of no small ability, with your own army,” continued Regenbald.

Alan frowned and then gave a wry smile of his own. “Well, we didn’t beat the Danes by holding a drinking contest,” he replied modestly.

“How many men?” demanded Regenbald.

“If they all come if called, and by that I mean every fighting man in Tendring not just my men, 500 men- about 100 horsemen. All trained and fully equipped- now, not when we fought the Danes,” replied Alan proudly.

“A small army indeed. And the stories of you calling the clouds to rain fire?”

“Yes, we did that. Very useful, but it makes a hell of a mess,” answered Alan cryptically.

Regenbald raised his eyebrows in query and waited for further details, which were not forthcoming. With a pout of annoyance he decided that he’d have to wait and get that information elsewhere. “Formidable,” he said with a nod. “I can understand why you keep that quiet, as many would see your being able to raise as many men as the earl of East Anglia as being a threat, let alone having God provide fire-support for you.”

“Power comes at the point of a sword,” replied Alan with a smile. “And God had nothing to do with it.”

“No! Power does not come at the point of the sword. Not unless you have 5,000 of them- and in the right place at the right time. Power comes from the political influence you can wield and who are your friends and allies, and the money you have available to bribe and suborn others. It comes from the information your spies can obtain and what you do with it. And how many swords you can muster,” lectured Regenbald. “500, or even 5,000, swords in Essex are of little use to you here in London today. In two weeks, if you have them camped outside, maybe- but not today. Power is made up of many components, and as I said before you don’t have the ruthlessness to wield power effectively. So keep the extent of your strength a secret.”

Regenbald popped a dried date, imported from Iberia and placed with others in a bowl on a table near his elbow, into his mouth with an expression of delight. The platter contained various delicacies, nuts and dried apple and pear, candied fruits and the more exotic dates.

Alan tilted his head to one side in reflection and nodded to show he had absorbed and accepted the advice. “I have enough land to satisfy my family’s requirements for the next generation. If and when it arrives,” he added with a smile to Anne. “And enough money to do what we want. We live simply enough, although comfortably. Once bought, luxuries like comfortable chairs, glass windows and fur cloaks last virtually indefinitely- as do the swords and armour we took from the Danes at Wivenhoe.”

“You’re saying that you don’t need more money! Either you are very wealthy or simple in the mind!” said Regenbald with a snort of amusement.

With a smile Alan replied, “Simple in needs, and with a wife who is an excellent money-manager and has a wealthy family.” He cast a warm look at his wife.

Aethelu spoke up for the first time, “The value of a good wife is often overlooked. Anne does you proud. Her involvement with the ladies of the royal court, both Norman and English, is very clever. Wives have no power to make decisions, but those women from prominent families know as much, if not more, than their husbands about politics and their views will affect what the lords decide to do. They’re politically knowledgeable and important advisers, even if they are not in the Chamber when the matters are discussed. They also have the time to plot and plan. Most have been traded as children to form or strengthen alliances and are expected to have their children do the same. They are also, almost without exception, strong characters who refuse to sit quietly in the background. Matilda of Flanders is an excellent example. A physically small woman with a strength and character as strong as her husband the king, and so well regarded by him that he was prepared to face papal disapproval to marry her. Going to war against a family with whom your wife is friendly is not an option that many lords would be prepared to consider lightly.”

After that the conversation drifted off into general matters, while a supper of smoked meats, sugared fruits, cheeses, fresh warm bread and butter was served.

The next afternoon Anne called to see Malachi the Jew, spending some time closeted with him. Several hours later she arrived at a disreputable inn called ‘The Dancing Bear’ in the Shambles. Six of her huscarles, armed but unarmoured, stood nearby just out of hearing, receiving many a look from the other patrons and certainly acting as a damper on the talk and behaviour in the Commons. Osmund sat with her at a table near the fire, a pint of poor and sour ale standing untouched in front of him and a cup of poor mead on the table before Anne. Out of respect for their health Anne had not ordered any food.

A slightly ferret-faced, tall, thin and balding Englishman named Gareth sat opposite them, dressed in clean but poor clothing, with a half-empty pint of ale on the table and a meat-bone in his hand, at which he from time to time sipped or gnawed respectively.

‘So, Gareth, what I require is information from the important houses, noble and non-noble. Norman and English. Not just here in London, but wherever the household may move. You come highly recommended and as such it’s not my place to tell you how to obtain such information. As I understand it you earn a good income from purveying information, which belies your appearance. I don’t necessarily need exclusivity of information, but that information that directly affects my interests I expect not to be provided to those with contrary interests. Obviously, the fact that I have certain information is not to be known. I would comment that suborning those who serve at table is a relatively cheap and effective way of getting good information. Corrupting the clerks is more difficult, but possible. However, you’d know more than I about these matters. I particularly want full details of what happens in the houses of the Bishop of London, Engelric and Earl Ralph the Staller. I’ll pay you?5 a month initially, and we can review that as your network grows. Agreed? Good. Now I want to make a particular point…

Two days later William Bishop of London awoke and disengaged himself from the lithesome young man on the bed alongside him. He then stared in amazement at the poniard dagger with its long thin blade plunged deep into the bed beside him. A hunting arrow lay on the bed beside the dagger. Within a few minutes Engelric and Earl Ralph, in their respective houses, woke to similar silent messages. Anne had not been able to ascertain who had attacked her husband. If she had, the dagger would have been plunged into the body and not left as a warning. Still, she was sure that all three would understand the communication.

On Christmas Day 1067 King William stood at the altar of the Winchester Cathedral, knelt for several minutes and then moved to his position near the choir. The great lords of two lands, the barons, earls and the lords who held under them, took their turn at kneeling at the altar, including Alan. Later they attended the feast arranged by King William.

Two days later Alan and his party rode north towards the Welsh border.