by Smith, Skye
"Yes," said Wigod, "the Escheat is a good law, but is not often required."
"Ah but" said Hereward "If under Odo's courts the Crown and the King are the same, then the land goes to the king for a year and a day. They are right now compiling a list of all lords thought dead from the battles. They will send Normans to each manor on that list and under Escheat claim the land for the king. The Norman put in charge of the estate then has a year to ensure that his petition for the land is the strongest of all the blood relatives.
Odo is a weasel. The escheat lord will be told to show the king's benevolence by not evicting the family, but in reality this gives the Norman the opportunity to wed the unsuspecting widow by rape. Betrothal by rape is also legal under Knut's 'in-common' law, but it's purpose was to allow young women who have been raped to claim a husband, or a settlement in coin. Instead Odo is using it to allow a widow's land to be stolen from her children."
Hereward held his hand up to stop Wigod from interrupting with an obvious comment. "The Norman has a year to plant a child in the English widow, and to convince any competing petitioners to withdraw. Of course, those who do not withdraw their petitions should fear for their lives and their wives." There was silence as the full implications of this deviltry sunk in. "If the widow already has sons, well, their lives are not worth tu’pence."
"This is in Kent?" asked Wigod.
"In Kent there is deviltry worse than this, but this is happening now, or soon, in all the Southern shires and soon it will be used in the Northern shires as well. It began as soon as William was crowned in Westminster. From that day forward crown and king became one in Odo's interpretation of the law. They are moving quickly so that the first that our grieving widows may hear of it, is when a Norman knocks on her door."
Hereward waited while Wigod poured more wine, and while his own temper cooled and he again had control of the harshness in his voice. "In Kent it is worse. Odo is Earl of Kent and Chief Justice. There is no stopping his greed. In Kent they do not use the Escheat on just the widows. The Norman Dead and Bed policy is being taken to manors where the lady is not yet widowed, at least for a few hours after the Normans arrive.
Odo also has land in Wessex and in Anglia, so this policy will quickly spread to those shires. Our own lords are afraid to speak out, because it will mark them as next to leave widows. Sedition would be treated as traitorous and would cost them their lives."
Wigod stared at Hereward and said "There is the answer to why William took the Earls to Normandy. So they cannot rally the North against this land grab by the Normans. Hereward, I have many friends in Wessex. Are you certain of these outcomes. Certain enough that I should tell my friends to flee," Wigod bowed his head, "But flee to where?"
"My own friends, I have told already," replied Hereward. "My route here from Dover was long and twisted. If they wish to flee then they must do so before they are taken. They need only get north of the Thames and wait to see what will come next. If the worst happens, then they can decide either to fight in the Northern army or to leave England.
Beside, any of them who played a part in the defeat Harald of Norway at Stamford would be welcomed in any army as far as Constantinople. In the Byzantine, as a general, Harald was thought unbeatable."
The talk of politics and lords was winding down. Hereward looked at Raynar expectantly.
Raynar looked at his friend and his coaxing manner, and then remembered that he had a question to ask. "Sire, I live in the boatman huts on the northeast side of the river downstream from the ford. Is that land part of Wallingford's charter?"
"Wallingford is a royal burgh not a chartered town, but the answer is still no, why do you ask?"
"The boatmen are important to Wallingford. I wonder if they would not be safer living on Wallingford land?"
"They used to be on the Wallingford side, but they moved to that common to escape my taxes. Ahh, I see your point. You are suggesting that I make them townsmen so that they would not be forced into serfdom. That is a good thought. Most of the folk who live on that common are not farmers nor herders. They are the labor force for our town's businesses. I will look into it. Thank you."
Wigod then looked at Hereward, thinking that Hereward and Raynar had just met, "I beg your lordship's pardon on Raynar's behalf. His speech lacks the courtesy deserved by our class, but he always means well, " Wigod gave Raynar a stare, "I am too forgiving of him, myself, as I enjoy his gossip and his company."
Wigod could see that the two were preparing to leave. He came to a decision. He signaled them to sit back down by pouring them some more wine. "I need some advise and it relates closely to what we have been discussing.
William left a Norman garrison here when he crossed on his way to London. A new commander has just arrived with more men. He tells me that William's orders are to enhance the town's fortifications, and to build a fort strong enough to ensure that no army but his can use this ford." He stood up and paced. "As you can see, I am one of those under threat of Dead and Bed, but I will not flee." He stooped beside them and asked in a low voice, "What should I do?"
Hereward was taken aback by such honesty to strangers. "Who is the commander?"
"The new one is one Robert D'Oyly," Wigod replied, "He is not a lord, just a knight who served William well in battle. He is young."
"Do you have any children?" asked Hereward.
"A son Tokig, and a daughter Ealdgyth."
"If you love them, you will hate what I propose. Arrange for her to wed D'Oyly, and for him to enter D'Oyly's service as squire. "
Wigod sat down and slammed his fist onto the table, "No".
"Then flee". Hereward said calmly. There was a long pause.
"Then tell me the why of it," asked Wigod.
"D'Oyly is just a young knight trying to prove himself," Hereward replied. "He is not a lord so he will not benefit from your murder. You have large holdings, so a more important Norman lord than he will be sent here to replace you. That lord will become the castellan here. If that happens then D'Oyly shares in your loss." Hereward watched Wigod’s face to be sure he understood.
"However, if D'Oyly weds your daughter, and if he has your son in service, then he has hostages, your oath, and your cooperation. This means that William will not have any urgent need to replace you. William will make D'Oyly the castellan to keep control of you, and may even take your son into his own service as more surety of your loyalty." Hereward touched Wigod’s fist. "It would be your best chance to keep your lands until old age, and perhaps even to remain Reeve."
"This Dead or Bed policy is devilish. It is filled with promise for Normans, and dilemma for English. I will discuss it with my wife. Thank you so much for your help, Hereward. My household is yours to command."
"Thank you for the offer of you hospitality, my lord, but another time," said Hereward, "Today I must away. I must ensure my brother knows what to do when the Normans knock on his door." He finished his wine in a gulp. "Well, perhaps I could ask for a skin of this excellent wine to ease the dust of the road."
Wigod did not hesitate. "Of course, you are most welcome, I will have it waiting at the gate." His two guests were rising to go. "Raynar, I will put your question to my clerk today. If the Normans are building, then we will need space within the town to house the manpower. "
Raynar and Hereward walked together down the high street. Once past the ears of the guards, Raynar asked, "Do you trust him?"
"I trust him to act in his own best interest. William cannot risk an enemy in Wallingford so he is being watched. Have you seen the layout of the town. Roman. The Romans knew of its importance long before Edwin and William. It has a Thames crossing and is on the highway to Gloucestershire and South Wales."
Instead of going to the boat they climbed the earthwork walls and sat and watched the river traffic. "Raynar, you have a good life here. You seem very settled."
"No, Hereward, I am just here waiting. Waiting for another chance to avenge King Harold. I stay here becau
se it is the most pleasant major crossroad that I know of. If I must stay here, then I may as well make myself useful. But I am frustrated. Most days are aimless. I lack patience. I am a do'er not a wait'er."
"I think that perhaps you have forgotten your oath to the brotherhood. The first part is about spreading the knowledge of the arrow. You can do that anywhere, anytime. What is wrong with here and now?"
Raynar was lost in thought. "For that I would need bows, for bows I would need seasoned ywen staves. Seasoning takes a year. That is just more waiting. How can I even begin?"
"I have heard that Welsh bowyers keep a market stall in Gloucester." Hereward pointed to the west. "How far is that? Say eighty miles that way."
Hereward left that day. What he told Wigod was true. He was worried about his brother and the family holdings in Burna, which was on the highway between Peterburgh and Lincoln, and on the edge of the Fens. Raynar had enjoyed Hereward's company. He was vibrant and alive. He was saddened that the visit was not longer. Aelfled was glad to see the back of him.
* * * * *
English manor families were still traveling north, at least one group a day. They were now being stopped and questioned by the Norman commander D'Oyly. Wigod had told Raynar that the number of lords fleeing north was higher on the other highways west of Wallingford, such as the Roman street through Wantage and the Fosse Way through Cirencester. Those were the more direct ways northwards from Hampshire and Winchester.
One morning, a London bound Saxon lord asked him where he could sell a horse and cart. He had aging parents with him, and had decided to travel by boat down the Thames to London rather than continue subjecting his parents to the violent shaking of the cart. Raynar led him to the market, and to the smithy, and to the largest stables, but no one was very interested. They all knew he was desperate to sell and were playing disinterest to bring his price down.
On a whim, Raynar offered him better than the others, and the lord accepted it. The lord waited impatiently at the barge dock, while Raynar ran the mile to the woods where his heavy purse was hidden, and then back with the purchase price.
As he led the horse and cart up to Garth's hut, Garth laughed aloud. "A boatman with a cart. What are you thinking lad?"
"Gloucester," was all he said because Aelfled was watching him, and already had tears in her eyes.
"I knew you would leave, the moment I saw you with Hereward. Go then. I am finished with you," she turned and ran into the house.
Raynar slept in the old room with Garth that night, and in the morning he harnessed the horse and threw his pack into the cart. Aelfled must have found the purse of silver he had put under her pillow, because just as he was climbing into the cart, she ran from the house and wrapped him in her arms.
"I was a fool last night forcing you to sleep alone," she said between kissing his lips and kissing his eyes, "Instead I should have ravished you and kept you under me in my bed for another week. Come back when you are finished. Come back to me and the boat and the river. Our life was sweet here, and it can be sweet again."
Raynar hugged her all over, then pushed her away, but then hugged her again, and then tried to push her away, but her kisses now had him horny. "One more week then, but just one."
"All right sweetie," she said saucily. "Just one, I promise."
* * * * *
* * * * *
THE HOODSMAN - Hunting Kings by Skye Smith
Chapter 13 - The Coronation Charter, London in August 1100
All along the banks of the Thames as Raynar followed the royal barge, the folk and the merchants of London had turned out to wave and to cheer for their new king. Only three kings had ever been crowned at Westminster, all of them Normans, and these were the first ever cheers.
When William the Conqueror had been crowned at Westminster in '66, Londoners rioted and were put down with brutal force by Norman knights. When William Rufus was crowned at Westminster in '87, London was under marshal law and a curfew. This crowning of Henry was a very different scene and the folk had used it as an excuse for a holiday, and a hearty party.
He left the newly painted punt with the watcher at the Temple dock near the River Fleet, and promised him a commission if he could sell it for him. The watcher shrugged as he made the obvious comment that this was the wrong type of boat for this part of the river.
It was only a three minute walk up Temple Lane to the Domus, and yet he was propositioned three times by local tarts. It must be his shirt. It marked him as a man with much coin to throw about. He was tempted by the last lass, because she was young and comely, but Wyl's warning echoed in his ears.
Lately the Holborn tarts were cheaper to have than usual because you got more from them than what you paid for. Such was one of the curses of the culture that crusaders were bringing back with them from the Holy Lands. Despite his refusal she gave him a pretty smile, which he returned.
Wyl called down to him from the roof of the Domus where he was watching the river with two of the grooms from the stable. Old Wyl didn't get about much anymore because of his leg, and the responsibilities of running the Inn, so he often sat on the bench on the roof from which he could see off in all directions.
By the time Raynar was in the gate, Wyl was hopping down the stairs to greet him. He handed him the scroll. "Here is something to read while I freshen up and wash off the smell of ponies."
When he returned to the courtyard, clean and perfumed and yet still wearing his coronation best, Wyl was dancing around on his good leg and laughing to the sky above. "I hope this is true," he called over, "for if so then we have woken this morning to a new world."
"Ahh, you have put your finger on the issue. Are these just promises Henry has made until his throne is safe under his bum, or does he mean to make them come true. Before we spread these words about we should at least read his full Coronation Charter to see if this summary is true. Law makers have ways of hiding the truth behind legal wording." Still, Raynar was so happy about charter that he joined Wyl in his prance of joy for a few moments.
"Where can I go to see the full Charter?" asked Raynar.
"Hmm, oh, I know. Official Proclamations are posted at the old church. You know, the big wooden one above Holborn market. The church door is under an alcove which protects it from the weather, so they are posted either on the door or beside it.
Raynar finished putting on his city shoes, "I'll go and take a look. I don't want to spread the words of this scroll until I have seen the real thing and read all the exceptions."
While Wylie climbed back up to the roof, Raynar walked up Temple Lane and followed the dog leg that led to the market. He had never seen the market so quiet. Apart from the watchers hired so that the stalls did not have to be locked up, there were few sellers present, and no customers. A few moments later he was at the door of the big old wooden church.
The church had been built by the English-Danes back when London was the largest Danish city on earth. It had been built before the Roman Pope and his upstart church had been excommunicated by the true Christian Church in Constantinople, and therefore was built in the style of wooden churches found all along the river routes from the Black Sea to the Baltic. It was very different from the new Romanized churches, both inside and out.
Sure enough the full version of Henry's Coronation Charter was posted on the door of the church. Of course it was written in Latin, which was not one of his languages. He tried to enter the church to ask if there was someone there who could translate it for him, but the door was bolted. To his thumping knock, a sweet voice replied and the barred hatch opened and an equally sweet face peered out at him.
"Good morning love," he said and smiled warmly in an attempt to calm her worried look. "I wonder if there is someone about who reads Latin. I would like a translation of the proclamation of our new king."
"Are you a moneylender?" asked the young woman, "cause Mister Gladwin made some English copies of it last night and said I should sell them to the moneylenders when they
come asking."
Raynar praised the name of the priest, Gladwin, for being such a good businessman. The girl, then, must be the priest's opulently endowed mistress that the lads back at the Domus were always talking about with lusty words. "I would like to buy one, yes."
She pushed herself up on her toes and came closer to the barred hatch and had a good look at him, and behind him, and a second look at his fine silk shirt. Obviously a respectable citizen and not a man to fear. "Well I suppose you should come in then and help me to find the right one, cause I can't read, .... yet. When I throw the bolt, you will have to push because the door is too heavy for me to open."
Once he was inside, he closed and barred the door behind him and followed the slim graceful woman as she walked off to the side and into a private room. She was dressed in her best, as were most folk on this coronation day, and her best was quite fine since Gladwin was a wealthy priest. She was a delight to watch for she glided and danced rather than strutted.
"He has gone to the coronation," she said softly, suddenly realizing that perhaps it was not a wise thing to say while she was alone in the church with a stranger. Too late to worry about that now. "Of course 'I' have to stay here," she whined, "and miss the biggest festival of the year."
There were five scrolls on the table and he opened each and found that only two were translated copies of the charter. He chose the neater of the two copies.
"That will be four shillings," she said holding out her hand. Her hand was pink and rough, so not just a mistress, but also perhaps the maid or the cook.
It was a lot of money, the price of four sheep, for what the scribes would all be selling next week for but sixpence. He looked into her lovely eyes and she looked down immediately. She was lying. "That is more than what Gladwin had told me," he replied swapping lie for a lie. She blushed most pleasingly, but still did not meet his eyes. Instead she pouted and reached out and felt the silk of his shirt while she thought about what to do next.
She finally came to a decision and whispered, "But Gladwin did not include the cost of a special prayer by me for you, you know, with me kneeling in front of you," and looked him in the eyes and smiled and licked her lips wantonly.