With the castle barracks full and Englishmen not being given priority for available accommodation, Alan and his men set up their tent with many others outside the town walls on the meadow by the river. Their share of what booty was available from the campaign was thirty Welsh ponies. Short, at twelve or thirteen hands, but strong, sturdy and intelligent, they would be of benefit and Alan would pay his men a good price to buy them. He also had twenty or so swords and helmets as part of his share of loot.
Alan went to the abbey to check on the wounded. From his troop, Wulfwick, the man with the spear wound to the stomach had died. Manwin, who had received a bad arm wound, appeared as if he would live but the churgeon had removed his left arm near the shoulder. If he survived, Alan would arrange his transport home and a suitable job and pension.
After a week and a half of abstinence Alan took his men to a local tavern for a good meal and a few pints of ale. Six hours later and blind drunk, the local town guard were more than happy to open the gate to let them out and get rid of them, after one urinated in the guardhouse and another vomited on the Captain of the Guard. The whole town was delighted to hear of the successes against the perfidious Welsh, and so the recently returned troops were given some leeway instead of being beaten or clapped in irons. The guard captain, as he wiped himself off, did make it clear to Alan that the courtesy would not be repeated and that Alan in future was required to keep his stomach’s contents to himself.
The following day Alan was not well. It must have been something he had eaten, he thought as he lay on his straw palliasse in the tent on the Green outside the town walls, wishing that the bells of the many churches in the town would fall silent. Fortunately his troop was not on duty that day.
The next day, while Edric led the troop on a mounted patrol upriver south to Aldford in accordance with the instructions of fitzOsbern’s Constable, Alan himself called to see the earl at mid-morning. This was a time that he had heard the earl was usually busy with the paperwork and minutiae of running the earldom, the martial nature of commanding on the Border Marches requiring constant attention. He wanted the earl busy and distracted when he saw him.
As befitted both his station and standing, Alan was shown immediately into the office where the earl was sitting behind a table piled with pieces of parchment, talking with his Steward and his Victualler, while two scribes sat at each end of the table making notes. “Good morning, Sir Alan. Take a seat and I’ll be with you when I can,” said FitzOsbern waving Alan towards a stool.
“No hurry, Lord William. Whenever you are ready,” replied Alan as he sat. Moments later a servant poured him a cup of wine.
After about five minutes the Steward rose to leave, the Victualler remaining, presumably with other unfinished business. FitzOsbern looked up at Alan and asked, “Yes?”
“Lord William, now we are back at Chester and no further sorties intended, I thought that I would ask your permission to leave my knight’s service here early and travel to my estates near Hereford to ensure their readiness should Bleddyn attack in the south, rather than remain here in the north,” said Alan. “You’ve more than ample men here to cover any response by the Welsh here, but methinks the forces in the south may be stretched a little thin. Bleddyn is just as likely to strike there as here. Indeed, more likely if he has any sense.”
Another flunkey hurried into the room and stood waiting, holding several pieces of parchment. After a moment’s pause fitzOsbern nodded and replied, “Yes, you have my leave. Let me know if you see any shortcomings in my garrison at Hereford.” FitzOsbern paused again and continued, looking Alan in the eye. “You and I need to have a long talk before next summer about strategy on the border. This year the king intends to wear his crown at Gloucester at Christmas. We can talk then. My thanks for your advice over the last two weeks. You have a clear head on your shoulders and a fine appreciation of what can and cannot be done. I look forward to working with you next summer.”
“Can’t I do castle-guard at Ipswich?” asked Alan plaintively. “Duty in your service is onerous!” FitzOsbern gave a bark of laughter at what he was certain was a joke, as every knight wanted to be where the fight was. As he waved Alan away he was still chucking.
Alan and his men rode out of Chester at first light the next morning as the gates were opened, crossed the wooden bridge over the River Dee and headed south. The men were armed but not wearing their armour, as the road didn’t run close the border for most of its distance. Each man led a chain of three or four ponies, each with saddle and tack. They pushed hard. It was 94 miles from Chester to Hereford and Alan intended to cover that distance in one day, with the men swapping between the several horses they led to keep the animals fresh. It was 20 miles to Whitchurch and a further 21 to Shrewsbury, where they stopped for a meal at mid-morning, moving at 10 miles an hour. Then Shrewsbury to Leominster, crossing the River Lugg several times as it also wound its way south. Then the short ride further south to Hereford.
The land, particularly in the river valleys, was rich and closely farmed, with a number of villages at regular intervals- most of which still bore the marks of the Welsh invasion the year before. The road was dry. High cloud kept the summer day from becoming too warm. Making good time, Alan decided that rather than stop at Hereford they would push on the further 9 miles to the west along the River Wye valley to Staunton, where they arrived an hour or so before dark, after 14 hours on the road.
Dirty, sweaty, sore, stiff and tired, the men dismounted and walked about to stretch their legs. In the time since Alan had last been here the villagers had completed building the Hall, barracks and stables. The protective ditch had been dug, the earthen rampart constructed from the spoil of the ditch and revetted with turf to make a nearly vertical earthen wall which was about half completed, as were the eight small wooden towers. The gate and the drawbridge over the ditch were complete and in place.
In the Hall the window shutters were open to let in the breeze and the last of the light- Alan and Anne had no intention of ordering expensive window glass for what was a rough but adequate frontier outpost- and where they didn’t themselves reside. Robert, Warren the archer and Leofwine the huscarle were in the Hall. Ledmer was leading the mounted Wolves on a patrol up the Wye towards Hay-on-Wye on the border.
Robert reported that the border had been unusually quiet and that there had been no reports of movement of warriors in the upper reaches of the Wye Valley from the spies that they had recruited in Hay-on-Wye and Rador. Training of the villagers of the manors as militia spearmen, swordsmen and archers was progressing well. The thirty Welsh bows ordered from Cardiff had arrived, the bowmen were starting to become moderately proficient and the fletchers had made a reasonable supply of war-arrows.
Alan advised his seneschal that a further supply of swords and helmets, from his share of the spoils of the northern campaign, would be arriving by wagon in a few days, which would complete the intended outfitting of the militia, giving fifty each of spearmen, swordsmen and archers- most of the adult male population of the four manors. The weapons Alan was providing were similar to those used by the Welsh, mainly taken from them in the raid made by Alan’s men earlier in the year and the recently concluded expedition. Only Alan’s mounted men-at-arms and huscarles, ten of each being stationed at Staunton, were provided with chain-mail armour. The militia would fight unarmoured in the manner of the Welsh or the English fyrd, or themselves fashion armour out of thick boiled leather.
“I’m glad things are quiet,” commented Alan, taking a pull from a quart of ale to wash the dust of the road from his throat. “That means that the rest of the men I brought from Essex can go home. They’ll be needed for the harvest in a few weeks, and that’ll cut down the amount of supplies we need to bring in here. Today is Tuesday. They can leave on Friday the 13th and will be back home in three days. We’ve got 70 ponies now. I’ll leave 40 here, so you can move your infantry and archers quickly. The others can go to Thorrington, or more likely Wivenhoe and Great Bentl
ey. You’ve already got 25 chargers and hackneys for your men.”
“There is some news that probably hasn’t reached Chester yet,” commented Robert. “Three of Harold’s bastard children who fled to Ireland returned last week with a raiding party of Irishmen and landed near Bristol. Godwin Haroldson was in charge. They raided the shipping in the channel and in Bristol harbour on the Avon and tried to take the city. The locals repelled the attack- they didn’t want anything to do with him and the thegns and fyrdmen led the fight. Then the raiders moved down the coast in their ships to Weston, sacked and burnt that village and then moved up the River Axe, about four miles south of Weston. That was one of Gytha’s old manors, so perhaps they thought they may get a better reception there. Eadnoth the Staller caught up with them there and beat them in battle, but he was himself killed leading the fight. Tovi the sheriff was also there, as was Eadnoth’s son Harding, and they pressed the fight after Eadnoth fell. The Haroldsons then packed up and went back to Leinster in Ireland. Gytha departed at the same time, apparently with several boatloads of treasure and household goods.”
Alan gave a small sigh on hearing the loss of his friend, one of the few remaining influential Englishmen and who, as confirmed by his actions, had been loyal to his oath to the new king. “So we’re likely to be having the Irish continue to raid the west coast,” he commented.
“That won’t affect us much up here,” replied Warren. “They’re unlikely to go up the Wye past Gloucester.”
The bulk of Alan’s men departed east several days later, one of the three carts previously brought west with them returning under escort carrying the armour and heavier equipment. Thirty of the archers and infantrymen now rode ponies, and the twenty Wolves rode their chargers. To avoid attention they split into four groups, one of which included the wagon. Three groups were on horseback and one on foot. No danger was expected but they took to the road with weapons handy.
Alan spent another week checking the progress of training of the fyrdmen and was well satisfied with the work that Robert, Warren, Leofwine and Ledmer had achieved, and was confident that if the occasion arose that his men would be equal to the challenge. He also spent time visiting each of the manors, talking to the head-cheorls at Monnington, Bobury, Staunton and Norton Canon, visiting each to inspect the repair of damage from the Welsh invasion the previous summer and how the current harvest was progressing.
The grain was standing high and thick and, absent any heavy rain or high winds, the harvest promised to be good. As most of the livestock that had been stolen had been replaced when Alan had in his turn raided the Welsh, full granaries would restore his manors to relative affluence- although most of the remainder of western Herefordshire would not be so lucky and shortage of livestock and grain would continue to cause hunger in most of the shire during the coming year. The suffering of the other villages on the border meant that Alan’s manors would receive a high price for any produce they sold. The fishery at Bobury had been repaired and dried fish were being sold to the merchants in Hereford. The repairs to the water-mill at Monnington would be completed in time for it to be used for grinding grain after the harvest.
Satisfied that all was as well as could be, Alan rode east for home with Edric, the six remaining Wolves and his servant Leof.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Thorrington Late June 1068
As he rode past the fortifications and through the gate at Thorrington Hall Alan felt conflicting emotions. He was glad to be home, but heavy-hearted that four men who had ridden out with him did not ride back. Three would not be returning, and the fourth was now a cripple who would return when fit enough to travel. The men had been young and only one was married, with one child. Alan didn’t look forward to visiting the widow and telling her the lie that her man had died painlessly and easily, for he had died screaming in agony and trying to push slippery entrails back in place after he had been disemboweled by a spear. At least the men who had returned the previous week had brought the news and Alan didn’t have to watch a welcoming face turn to fear at the absence of a loved one. The widow would be given employment in the Hall kitchen, at least until she found herself another man- and longer still if she wished. Hugh had already trained a reserve of additional men and the Wolf troop would be brought back to strength by the end of tomorrow, although they would need to train together for several weeks to build the instinctive movement and trust that is needed in battle.
For the four miles from Wivenhoe to Thorrington their passage had been welcomed with smiles and waves from the workers in the fields and the villagers. The manors were abuzz with activity. Alan had timed his return so as to be present for Midsummer Day on 24th June, in three days time. Apart from being a Feast Day dedicated to St John the Baptist it was a day when the manor lord was expected to provide food and drink for all. It was also a Quarter Day when rent and taxes were due, and a traditional festival for all the people.
The folk of the Hall, both those who dwelled therein and those who came daily from the village, were gathered in the forecourt, warned of his approach by word racing ahead of his arrival. In the front row were Anne, now significantly larger of belly, Osmund the clerk, Faran the steward and Brother Wacian the priest. Behind were Otha the cook, wiping her hands on her apron, Teon the stablemaster, Brand the huscarle and half a dozen of the lesser servants and maids. Alan dismounted, handing the reins to a stable boy who led the charger away to be rubbed down, fed and watered, and took several stiff steps towards his wife. He bent to embrace and kiss her, then with his arm around her shoulders he greeted the others and they entered the Hall. It was only mid-afternoon as Alan and his men had taken a fairly leisurely three days to ride from Staunton.
At the table in the Hall, while eating a small repast of bread, butter and cheese, Alan and Edric gave a brief account of the time in Wales. Brand and Ainulf sought details, but Alan put them off by saying that he’d have a more detailed discussion another day with the two Englishmen, together with Hugh and Roger. Alan gave the servants instructions to ensure that the water in the bath-house was hot.
No wanting to put off something unpleasant, Alan, Edric and Anne walked to the small but neat village cottage where Lufian, the wife of the dead soldier Leng, lived with her baby daughter. The young woman was quiet and sad but resigned to her situation. Anne had already visited her and offered a position at the Hall when the news had been received the week before. Lufian and her child would not want for food or shelter.
Once back at the Hall in the late afternoon Alan and Anne soaked in the bathwater piped in from a nearby spring and heated by the fires in the kitchen. The bath was a tun barrel cut in half, with steps and several internal benches set at different heights, and now held warm water. Both stretched in pleasure as the hot water loosened sore back muscles, and in Alan’s case shoulders and legs. Alan had a jug of fine Bordeaux and a cup on the floor next to him. The sight of the water lapping at his wife’s breasts soon made him forget most of his aches and he took her into his arms.
As a result dinner was eaten somewhat late. Being a Saturday there were no dietary restrictions and Otha the cook had gone out of her way to create a series of dishes to tempt the palates of those who had eaten roughly-cooked meals for nigh on a month. A thick and creamy chicken and leek soup was followed by boiled beef with green garlic sauce, quails braised in white wine, grilled honeyed pork chops with ginger, three types of vegetables- carrot, peas and beans- carefully cooked and spiced, apple pie with thickened cream and the piquant cheeses that Alan favoured- Roquefort, Gorgonzola, Neufchatel, Parmigiano and Romano. All were accompanied by fresh bread and freshly-churned butter, and ale, wine, herb tea or fruit juice according to taste and inclination.
The returned soldiers and their families attended Mass the next day en masse, the service being held in the Old Hall due to occasional showers sweeping in from the sea and the size of the congregation being too large for the small wooden church. The Tithe Barn was often used in such instances but was curren
tly unavailable due to the quantity of goods gathered for payment of taxes, rents and tithes. Brother Wacian gave thanks for those returning safely and said prayers for the souls of the three men who would not return.
Alan, Anne and the household attended Mass again on Tuesday, Midsummer Day and the Feast of the Nativity of St John the Baptist. On this occasion the congregation squeezed into the small church. Following the service, as the smoke from the cattle, swine and sheep roasting over open fires and the steam of boiling cauldrons containing joints of the same animals drifted past, Alan discussed with Brother Wacian and head-cheorl Toland whether a larger church should be considered, and the expense and difficulty of using stone. The matter was left unresolved for further discussion by the village moot.
Faran and Osmund were kept busy collecting and recording the rent and taxes, the latter then dispatched to Colchester under guard, partly in cash and partly in kind- mainly sacks of grain or salt.
Anne’s business manager Jacob the Jew arrived from London as previously instructed several days later. He and Anne were closeted together for two days as Anne checked through the books and ledgers, carefully calculating profit margins, examining alternative suppliers and trying to anticipate market trends based on the information that Jacob drew from his large network. Alan spent some time listening in and was interested to hear that trouble was expected from the Danes resuming raiding in the autumn, King Swein of Denmark having given his permission for this activity. This would impact the voyages of the ships Birgitta and Stormsvale between Ipswich, Norway, the Netherlands and London, the two ships effectively running a shuttle service back and forth to their respective trading ports every two weeks. Zeelandt’s very profitable but longer and less frequent voyages to Aquitaine wouldn’t be affected.
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