Anne hadn’t been entrusted with the operation of her previous husband’s household and, this being the first Lent period since her marriage, she intended to fully extend her intellect to the problem of catering for forty days to a husband who hated fish. The non-availability for six days of the week, for religious reasons, of eggs and dairy products did not help as this reduced the available range of sauces and other dishes.
Frankly, Alan, although in other ways quite devout, was not particularly concerned about complying with dietary restrictions. The previous year had been the first in which he’d had any control over what appeared at table and he was sure that the Good Lord appreciated his other qualities. He was to some extent a servant of his stomach, even at risk to his immortal sole (*pun also intended). But Anne was in charge- and each Sunday he would be free to eat his fill of red meat, swine, eggs and dairy produce. ‘If you eat enough of something in one day maybe you wouldn’t miss it for the next six,’ he mused.
In fact Anne had arranged for Otha the cook to have more than enough to work with. Tonight’s meal was mussels and scallops braised in white wine and with garlic and onions, with Lenten foyles of cabbage, spinach, turnip greens, collard greens, almond milk, currents, salt and pepper. Tomorrow would be flounder with ginger sauce, fried gourd and cress with almond milk. Whether an interesting menu could be maintained with limited ingredients for forty days would be a challenge.
Unfortunately, food which should have been lightly braised was cooked to death, the mussels and scallops being as tough as old boots and the foyles burnt. Alan and Brother Wacian had eaten worse and chewed away without complaint, although also without much enjoyment. Fortunately there were no local restrictions on wine, and Alan broached a flagon of fine Bordeaux red to make up for the poor food. Alan suggested that Brother Wacian and Anne play a game of Tabula while he wrote a letter to his father. The need for a top-quality horse trainer was the immediate cause, but had made Alan recognise that it was many months since he had written to Normandy. He mentally reassured himself that the reason for this was the difficulty in having messages delivered overseas, but he wasn’t entirely convinced by his own argument.
The letter was dispatched to Aaron the Jew in Colchester, with a request that he have it forwarded to the Jewry of Amiens and hence to Alan’s father at Gauville. The delivery method would be relatively expensive, but quick and certain.
February passed slowly. Winter’s hard grip remained on the land and the days when the peasants could work the fields, the fishermen ply their boats and nets or the soldiers train outside were rare. Manure and marl were supposed to be carted to the fields and spread, but this was behind schedule. Alan was again going to use the three-field system on his land. This, together with other innovations such as increased sowing rates and selection of seedstock, had the previous year provided him with nearly double the crops grown in the more traditional two-field system still used by the villagers. The extra grain had also allowed him to keep additional livestock over the winter, instead of slaughtering all but the breeding stock in the autumn, which in turn would allow an increase in the size of his herds in the coming year.
The salthouse owned by Alan on Barfleet Creek was one of the few areas of activity. The salt that had been harvested from the salt-pans at the end of the summer had been cleaned and stored in sacks stacked on racks above the ground to avoid moisture, and was now being milled and placed in barrels ready for sale when the roads re-opened. A little less than half the salt in storage belonged to Alan, the remainder belonged to the villagers who were charged ten percent of the harvest for the use of the storage and milling facilities. Alan owned similar salthouses at his manors of Bradfield, Ramsey and Great Bentley, and two each at Beaumont and Great Oakley. Many of the other manors in the Hundred had similar salthouses and these formed an important part of the local economy, being the main cash-earner for most villages. Alan and his villages had increased the number of saltpans the previous spring to allow extra funds to pay the geld tax that King William had re-introduced the previous year.
At least three mornings a week Alan conducted training for his warriors in the covered salle d’armes, keeping his own edge and improving the skills of the recruits. His deputy Hugh did the same at the manor he was supervising for Alan, albeit in his case outdoors when weather permitted, due to lack of indoor facilities. There was no training ahorse for the men-at-arms as the deep snow on the training field precluded this.
Alan spent most afternoons tinkering in his workshop, with the occasional assistance of the village carpenter, building the eight ballistae and two onagers he intended to dispatch to Staunton in the spring. Life settled into a boring rustic existence while the people, animals and land waited for spring.
The holding pens by the Alresford creek for the live fish worked quite well, allowing fresh fish and shellfish to be kept, although the tanks for the crabs and lobsters were not as successful due to their cannibalistic nature. They were placed in the tanks to be purged, which made them hungry- so they tried to eat each other.
The shellfish, lobsters and crabs were reserved for the high-table. The Hall servants and soldiers ate fresh fish when available, and salted when it was not. There was only one week when because of protracted storms Brother Wacian granted a dispensation to the villagers to eat the meat of fowl, which Alan took advantage of despite the Hall having ample supplies of salt fish, having some of the chickens, peafowl, pheasants and quail which were usually kept in pens killed to provide variety to the diet.
By assiduous effort a varied and interesting menu featuring seafood, albeit with usually just one main course, was maintained. After the first disaster Anne had made it clear to Otha the cook that, at least at high-table, they expected well cooked and well presented meals. Being bored and cooped up inside was bad enough without having to eat poor food. A good meal, with fine wine, gave the day a lift. While the dietary restrictions of Lent caused some problems it didn’t mean that they had to eat fish stew every night.
Each Sunday, as permitted by custom, cows, calves, pigs, chickens and sheep were slaughtered and cooked for the eighty or so occupants of the Hall and barracks; dishes featuring eggs were prepared and cheese eaten. The hoi polloi as usual ate food of a basic but filling nature, while Otha was required to use every drop of her talent to produce high-quality meals for the high-table. Brother Wacian was a frequent guest at table. To his chagrin and embarrassment he began to put on weight, which he was not supposed to do while suffering the privations of Lent.
In the middle of March the weather improved and the frozen earth softened enough to allow ploughing to commence and the spreading of manure to be completed. The mares and cows were due to drop their young in another month or so and the sows were farrowing.
CHAPTER THREE
Essex and Wales March 1068
Alan had always prided himself on his self-control and temperament, but he did admit that on the very few occasions he lost his temper it was something memorable and spectacular.
On this occasion, after receiving a message passed on by his clerk Osmund, he was absolutely incandescent with anger. He was standing in the salle d’arms, the covered training room just off the armoury. Alan had been drilling five men in the large room with its dirt floor, with the assistance of Brand the huscarle and with the youth Leof observing and learning.
There were four oak posts, each six inches thick, set deep into the dirt floor. Two had straw dummies attached. Alan drew his sword in a flash and within moments had reduced each of the straw dummies to chaff. A double-handed backhand swipe at the next post had the sword penetrate half way before becoming stuck. Alan with a conscious effort opened his hands and released the hilt. He loved that sword and he wasn’t quite that angry that he wanted to break it. Snatching up a two-handed Danish war-axe from the rack of weapons, he reduced the fourth post to kindling in moments before standing with the axe-head on the ground, leaning against the haft and panting slightly.
Brand raise
d his eyebrows, dismissed the men and took the axe out of Alan’s unresisting hands, putting it back in its slot in the weapons rack. “Now that you’ve got that out of your system, let’s go inside and sort out what we need to do,” he said in a deliberately bland voice. He looked at Leof and pointed at the still-quivering sword embedded deep in the wood. “Get Aethelhard the blacksmith,” he instructed the youth.
They walked the short distance to the Hall. Anne sat in a chair near the fire, wearing a green velvet dress and a cloak lined with ermine fur, sewing some sort of garment. Her belly was by now slightly swollen, with her first child expected in the autumn. She gave a cheerful smile until she saw that Alan’s face was like thunder and asked, “What’s the problem?”
“The damned Welsh raided over the border again and burnt and sacked Norton Canon for the second time in six months,” explained Osmund quietly. “Robert’s messenger just arrived. As you know Alan was waiting until the spring crop sowing was over before he punished them for their last transgression. They beat him to it.”
Leof came into the Hall, carrying Alan’s sword which Aethelhard had extracted from the oak post in the salle d’arms. Alan saw him and handed over the baldric and scabbard for Leof to put the sword away.
It was Maunday Thursday, 20th March in the year 1068, Easter being very early that year.
“The Feast of the Annunciation on 25th March is on Tuesday next week, in five days. Another damn Quarter Day with taxes to be paid! I want two ox-carts with flour and seed grain on their way to Staunton tomorrow. Yes, I know that day is Good Friday, just do it! No, make that three carts and add some sacks of dried beans and barrels of dried or salted fish or beef. The Vale can’t support or feed our men. Brand, have ten huscarles ride on the wagons. The rest of us will leave on Wednesday, escort the taxes to Colchester and then proceed to Staunton. That’s a journey of four days if we push it, 225 miles. The ploughing here is complete. Any sowing or harrowing still needing to be done after Lady Day can be done by the women and children and those men left behind. I want all 30 of the mounted men-at-arms we have, the Wolves, and 40 of the 50 longbowmen. I also want 50 of the 63 infantrymen who answer to me. Put their armour and a supply of 2,000 arrows on the carts leaving tomorrow, so the men can march unladen. I’ll leave Hugh in charge here with Anne and a small force in case anything happens here. Contact the thegns and invite them to send along their mounted men-at-arms and huscarles, and pass word to the men of the fyrd that I’d welcome any trained man who wishes to march with us, paid at a penny a day.”
Alan then had an argument with Anne, who wanted to accompany the force, finally having to invoke his position as ‘senior partner’ to specify that somebody in Anne’s ‘delicate situation’ could not spend most of each day on a horse, covering 60 miles or more a day.
Despite the solemnity of the Easter season the estate began to hum with activity. The Mass commemorating the celebration of the first Eucharist by Jesus and the Disciples was conducted with a congregation that had many of its members with other things on their mind. The Gloria was sung, the church bell rang and fell silent, to so remain until Easter Day. The ceremony of the washing of the feet was neglected that day.
On Good Friday, as was normal, Eucharist was not celebrated. Instead the congregation gave penance, with a long line to see Brother Wacian for absolution- particularly those men due to march west a few days later. The Liturgy of the Word, the Veneration of the Cross and the Stations of the Cross were performed by the priest.
Holy Saturday was supposed to be a day of reflection and prayer. While those who were able did conduct themselves thus, for many others it was a time of frantic activity- shoeing horses, checking and repairing armour and sharpening swords. Alan’s personal army would be marching to visit God’s vengeance on the Welsh and they intended to be ready and leave nothing to chance.
The following morning the Vigil was performed before dawn, followed by the service for Easter Day. Within the crowded church the Paschal Candle was lit and the Exultet chanted. The congregation heard readings from the Old Testament, the singing of the Gloria and Alleluia and the Gospel of the Resurrection. The sermon given by Brother Wacian was specially written by him to provide comfort and reassurance to the warriors going to war, promising eternal life for all who truly repented and believed. Baptisms were performed and the congregation renewed their baptismal vows. The afternoon was spent in feasting and drinking, the village celebrating the end of the privations imposed by Lent.
Alan and his men marched on Wednesday 26th March, the day after the Solemnity of the Annunciation of the Lord. With the coming of spring each day was now over 12? hours long and Alan expected to cover a substantial distance each day. His force of 30 mounted men-at-arms, 50 infantrymen and 40 longbowmen were gathered at Wivenhoe, together with another 23 mounted men, thegns and their retainers, and 89 fyrdmen. The Hundred men were coming along out of a sense of adventure and wanted to put their newly-acquired fighting skills to the test.
Including his men already in Herefordshire, or recently dispatched thereto, Alan would be able to field over 250 swords. The Hundred men and Alan’s foot-soldiers marched out together as the day was dawning. The mounted men-at-arms would accompany the slower ox-carts carrying the taxes to Colchester and then catch up with the others later in the day. Alan had sent Osmund, Leof and half a dozen riders on ahead the day before to make arrangements at each of the places Alan intended to stay overnight, Stevenage, Oxford and Gloucester, for food and accommodation to be available- which was no small undertaking given the size of the force mustered.
After safely delivering the taxes and leaving Wybert, Anne’s steward at Wivenhoe, to attend to obtaining the necessary receipts, Alan and the mounted men caught up with the foot-soldiers at Bishop Stortford in the afternoon. The men were in good heart, singing as they marched. They carried only their weapons and a few personal items, usually wrapped in a blanket draped over their shoulders.
After ‘roughing it’ at Stevenage for the first night, the following night was spent in relative comfort at Oxford. Alan received a message from the sheriff requesting a visit the next day to explain why he had brought a small army into the city. He penned a polite note back, declining to attend and saying he and the ‘army’ would be marching west at dawn.
On arriving at Gloucester the following evening Alan was greeted at the city gates by the sheriff of that shire, with a similar query. Clearly a rider had been dispatched from Oxford. As his tired men straggled to a halt behind him, glad to be finished marching for the day, Alan replied briefly, “Reinforcements for William fitzOsbern. Trouble on the Welsh border with raids and so on.”
Alan was a little surprised at how much attention he was drawing, but on reflection would have to agree that if somebody led over 200 armed men into Essex he would have some concerns and want to know where they were going and what they would do when they arrived. “Brand, move the men through. It’s nearly dark and the gates will be closing soon. Get them to their lodgings and get them fed.”
“Does Earl William know you’re coming?” asked the sheriff with annoyance, as the few men he had standing in front of the gate were shouldered aside.
“Possibly, but I’m sure we’ll be welcome when we arrive,” said Alan vaguely. “Now, please excuse me, Sir! I’m tired, dirty, hungry and thirsty. I’ll proceed to my lodgings.” He made a mental note that if he needed to move men around in the future it would be in smaller groups of 20 or 30 at a time, so as not to attract attention.
When the next day they crossed the bridge over the River Wye in the early afternoon, Alan turned the force west along the road leading up the Wye River valley and towards the border instead of proceeding into the city of Hereford.
Near Byford, about two miles east of Staunton, they came across Osmund and three men sitting alongside the road under a tree which was just bursting into leaf. Osmund rose to his feet and walked the few paces to the road where Alan was at the head of his men. “Good afternoon, my
lord,” said Osmund, as if the meeting were occurring in Alan’s Hall instead of the wilds of Herefordshire. “The mens’ weapons are in a clearing in the trees just to the north,” here he nodded towards a large stand of trees on the hills by the farm of Mansell Gamage. “There’s provender also. I bought that yesterday in Hereford and brought it here this morning. There are cooked cold meats, beef and swine; bread; cheese; boiled vegetables; fruit and ale. There’s fodder for the horses and a stream with fresh water for man and beast. There are more than enough provisions- although they cost a small fortune!”
“No questions were asked?” queried Alan.
Osmund gave him a look so ‘old-fashioned’ that its bones were bare, which expressed his disapproval. “I purchased from over a dozen different suppliers. I used our own carts. It took all fucking day!” he said sourly.
The men and horses disappeared into the trees. Firm instructions were given that no fires were to be lit. The infantry collected their armour, or in the case of the archers their extra sheaves of arrows, and set up the leather ten-man tents that Alan had provided. Guards and scouts were set for the first time on the expedition. The men ate as darkness gathered before heading to their tents. Alan met with Robert and the three spies who had been surveying the Wye valley on the Welsh side of the border for several months, gathering the information Alan needed. He intended to rest the men and horses all of the next day and to use the light of the full moon to move into position to attack the following night.
He had hardly seemed to close his eyes when Alan woke with his shoulder being shaken. “What the fuck…?” he queried as he sat up with the blanket draped over him falling away.
Brand was bending over him. “The scouts to the north report movement. Thirty or forty men moving towards Yazor on horseback.”
“Shite!” Alan said as his brain snapped into action “Get the men-at-arms awake. There’s no time to put on harness, so we’ll fight without armour. Get the archers and some infantry on the backs of the extra horses- all are to be my men, no fyrdmen.” Alan looked longingly at his rolled up chain-mail hauberk and instead quickly pulled on his padded jacket with sewn-in metal plate inserts, acknowledging that donning mail armour took at least fifteen minutes- which time he didn’t have.
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