Alan changed over the guards at eight in the evening, two hours after dark. Those coming on duty had taken the opportunity to have about four hours of sleep. This had not been difficult given their exhaustion after two days of solid riding- the difficulty had been in waking them up. As Alan had refused permission to light a campfire, they ate a cold meal of smoked ham, bread and cheese before they took the places of the other men, who quickly ate their own meal and then wrapped themselves in their blankets and immediately fell asleep. Six hours later they were roused and instructed to resume their posts. Alan accompanied them as they relieved the other guards, who reported that well after dark another two men had ridden north and been shot down without any warning. Alan had no argument with that as no local farmer would be riding a horse, let alone three or four hours after dark. After installing each patrol at their guard station Alan returned to the camp to snatch a further few hours of sleep.
Knowing that the city gates were closed until dawn, and certain that in the circumstances no bribe would be taken by the gate-guards to open early, Alan recalled his guards at about half-past four in the morning, an hour before first light. This time Alan allowed a cooking fire to be lit and after a hot breakfast the soldiers rode north. The grooms were left to dismantle the camp and to load the pack-horses after cooking the remainder of the supplies received the previous day. The dressed pig they had received was cut into joints which were boiled, as were the beans, peas and parsnips. Alan anticipated that they again wouldn’t be able to use a cooking fire that evening.
Alan slipped briefly into the city to confirm his orders and plans with fitzOsbern, noted the arrival of the expected reinforcements from Exeter and the south-west after their march along the Fosse Way, and returned to his men.
The Ermine Street Roman road ran due north, almost as straight as an arrow, passing just the village of Fillingham before taking a sharp turn to the west near Brigg to cross the River Trent and then proceeding north to the crossing of the River Aire. Then they rode further north to Selby, where the Benedictine monks were just breaking the ground for the foundations of a new abbey south of the River Ouse.
With the land as flat as a ruler and no cover for close on a mile Alan and his men approached the wooden bridge over the River Ouse with their horses at a canter. For the first time on their journey the bridge was guarded against them, with about fifteen men on duty. Stopping short of the bridge, Alan turned half of his force to face the village just to the south to repel the off-duty guards who were hurrying to join their compatriots. He then let his archers loose on the guards on the bridge. Barely a hundred paces away, those guards on the south bank were dead within thirty seconds, riddled with yard-long arrows from the longbowmen. Alan pushed horsemen across the bridge to chase and kill the half dozen guards who had been on the north side of the bridge and who had fled north for their lives. Within another two minutes the fleeing guards had lost both the race and their lives.
After that Alan placed thirty of his men north of the bridge, securing the crossing of the river while he waited for the vanguard of the army to arrive.
With this action the king’s army had secured the last natural obstacle before approaching York, now less than twelve miles distant, and apparently remained undetected.
When the vanguard arrived at about three in the afternoon, Alan handed off the village and bridge to them and moved a little north of the bridge. After his men advanced tiredly half a mile beyond the bridge a camp was set up and Alan allowed a fire to cook a meal. The landscape was still as flat as a pancake looking north towards the village of Ash Ridge. Again Alan set up a rotating system of rest as he set up a defensive umbrella, this time facing north. With the river and the bridge securely held behind them there was no need to watch for spies taking word north, only for scouts moving south.
The main body of the army arrived near dusk, nearly 4,000 strong, including the reinforcements from the south-west of England who had arrived at Lincoln the evening before.
As darkness was falling Alan arrived at the village inn that King William had requisitioned for his own use, and was surprised to see Queen Matilda and several maids heading upstairs as he arrived. Alan had not previously been aware that the tiny-statured queen was with the expedition and was surprised by her presence, despite her forceful personality and obvious attachment to her husband. For any expedition leader to take his wife on campaign was most unusual- particularly in this case, given the imminent expected birth of her next child, confirmed by her extremely gravid state and slow progress up the stairs as Alan looked on. Alan was sure that the king could do without this distraction on an important campaign, but Matilda was an unusually strong-willed woman.
Tired, hungry and annoyed, well aware that he stank like a polecat after three days on horseback and had not taken his boots off in that time, Alan dropped into a chair opposite the king and his half-brother Robert Count of Mortain and cousin William fitzOsbern, helping himself to a cup of wine without invitation. He flexed his shoulders and back to alleviate the aching as he leaned against the wooden wall and closed his eyes. He just wished he could do something about his thighs aching from three days in the saddle, but doubted he would find a hot bath and sympathetic massage here. Leof, Edric and Owain had accompanied him and stood just inside the door to the Hall, looking horrified at his presumptuous behaviour.
William gave a half-smile at this display of lese-majesty, noting the black marks of sleeplessness under the eyes and filthy disheveled appearance of the man before him, as he concluded his previous conversation.
“Sir Alan!” he said sharply, to rouse Alan from the doze he had quickly dropped into. As Alan’s eyes opened the king said, “Sorry to awaken you, but fitzOsbern says you have done particularly well since we left Peterborough, as indeed he had expected after your work together in Wales. We’re twelve miles south of York. Tomorrow I want your men to push ahead to cover our advance. FitzOsbern and his vanguard will take the bridge at York. Then I want you to push through beyond the city to provide scouting cover again to the north.”
Alan looked at his cup and thought, ‘I must have been tired to go to sleep without drinking that’, before he corrected his omission. Putting the cup down, he shook his head tiredly. “I am sorry, my liege, but my men are played out. We rode over ninety miles in a day to reach Peterborough. Fifty miles to Lincoln and sixty something miles here. Nothing unusual in that, but when your men sleep at night we scout and protect them. No warm beds. No hot food. No servants to care for our needs. There is a limit that men can serve for twenty-four hours in a day and we have reached that. If you want constant scouting cover, you have to provide sufficient men for the night shift. The problem is we have to ride all day to keep up with your men’s advance and then have to work all night. My men will provide advance cover tonight and then at daybreak I’m withdrawing them for a day of rest.”
With a thoughtful expression the king nodded and replied, “Very well, I look forward to seeing you in the field the day after tomorrow. Your men can rest here in Selby tomorrow and form part of the guard I’m leaving for the queen. As I understand it, her time has come, waters have broached and the next prince or princess of England will be born in this village. They will follow later.”
In confusion Alan said, “I’m most surprised that the queen accompanied you at this time.”
William gave a snort of amusement. “So am I,” he replied. “However, Matilda is not a woman to whom it is easy to say ‘no’, irrespective of the circumstances. And, of course, I already have three sons, safe in Normandy. At least, from my own experiences, I hope they are safe!” After a pause he added, “Robert of Eu is looking after them, as he looked after me. I trust that none will need to lay down their lives to protect them, as was needed to protect me.”
Seeing that Alan was nodding off to sleep again, he clicked his fingers to attract the attention of a servant. “Food and drink for Sir Alan and,” with a glance at those standing by the door, “his men. Ins
tantly! Now, Robert, about…”
The king had obviously sent his cooks ahead of the main body of the army, as roast pheasant and venison were provided along with roast vegetables, gravy and several sauces, followed by a sweet pie made with preserved berries. Alan and the Englishmen drank ale instead of the fine wine offered as they still had a night of duty to perform, before they returned replete to their camp. There the others had completed their meal of reheated boiled pork and vegetables, stale bread and cheese, washed down with river water- which was probably better fare than most in the army received that day. ‘Nobody said life was fair,’ mused Alan, his belly full of delicious food, as he detailed the first men to the guard positions.
Despite his tiredness and his poor ability to perform at his best when fatigued, Alan rose and checked the guards three times during the night. There are few things more certain to keep a guard’s attention that the expectation that any moment either his captain or his lord would appear without warning and hopefully not be welcomed with an arrow in the belly.
As dawn broke a little before six in the morning, the men that Alan had undertake the second shift of the night watch returned to the camp. Four men were posted as guards and the grooms sent to the village to collect breakfast, as the army marched past heading towards York some twelve miles away. The grooms returned with news that the queen had overnight borne a son, her fourth, to be named Henry. Prince Henry’s birth was toasted and food was eaten before the exhausted troops wrapped themselves in their blankets for a well deserved rest.
The following day Alan and his men rode the short distance north to York. The previous day the city had capitulated before the king’s army as cravenly as it had surrendered to the Northumbrians shortly before. As the army had approached the bridge over the River Ouse a delegation had ridden forth from the city offering its abject submission. The siege of the castle had been lifted and the city of 8,000 souls, the second largest in England, was at least nominally peaceful and in friendly hands. How peaceful a city can be with an occupying and mainly foreign army of 4,000 is somewhat questionable, and the patrols in the city streets were kept busy detaining both rebels and marauding Normans.
York having surrendered and submitted to the king, the following day Alan was requested to attend a meeting of the Curia at St Peter’s Cathedral at mid-day, the recently-built castle being judged too small and rough for such a prestigious event. After passing through Micklegate Bar, with the castle built just a few months before looming over the town on his right, he passed along the Shambles, Low Petergate and into Minster Yard before entering the cathedral precinct. The town was crowded with soldiers. Small groups of troops thronged the main streets, mainly taking in the sights and spending the few pennies they had on ale or food or buying trinkets from the costermongers and other stall-holders.
The king had arranged for Mass to be said for the assembled members of the Curia. After a short and simplified service performed by one of the Canons, with no homily by the priest and a minimum of hymns sung by the choir, the members of the Curia were ushered into the Refectory. A simple meal of pottage and a tasteless boiled mutton stew were served with stale bread. Then the king stood at his place at the high-table and the previous buzz of conversation ceased. Ealdred, Archbishop of York, sat at the king’s right hand. He was one of the few citizens of the city to emerge in William’s favour, having steadfastly refused to participate in the coronation of Edgar the Aetheling and having spent the last few weeks roundly condemning the revolt both privately and from the pulpit.
“My lords! Your efforts of the last week or so have been quite notable. Gathering so large a force and moving it so far and so quickly is creditable. We moved as many men in less time than the English did in their much-vaunted march to Stamford Bridge, which lies just seven miles from here.
“York has submitted to peace, although when we entered the city yesterday we found some hundreds of enemy soldiers who had not had the chance to flee, and whom we put to the sword. I thank Archbishop Ealdred for his intervention in the name of peace. However, I must say that personally I would have preferred a decent battle to take the city, so that I could burn it to the ground to make the point that rebellion against my rule is totally unacceptable. The Archbishop has successfully pleaded for mercy for the city, likening it to a woman of easy virtue who just can’t say no to any nobleman who presents himself. While the city may not have been burned, its burgesses will pay a very heavy financial price and will provide hostages to ensure future good behaviour.
“A second castle will be raised immediately, close to the site of the existing castle but on the other side of the River Ouse. Gilbert de Ghent will be the castellan. York is the second-largest city in the kingdom and is positioned to prevent the descent of the Scottish and Northumbrian barbarians into the rich Midlands of England. We have recovered York, which was our main objective. What do we do next? Unfortunately, we fight a beast which is somewhat formless.
“Other than the Aetheling, who has yet again fled back to Scotland and is in any event a cat’s-paw for other ambitious men, there is nobody other than the family of Bamburgh and the people of Northumbria that we target. Cospatric and the others have fled in their ships from the River Humber and where they have gone we know not. Whatever army they had has dispersed. One could say that we have achieved what we needed to do- but I refuse to accept that we will need to do this every year. North of here the only significant settlements are Durham and Monkchester. There is nothing to suggest that the Cumbrians have been involved in this revolt, and anyway that land is largely under the sway of the Scots and the Manx Norwegians. Durham is 65 miles away. Monkchester is 90 miles away on the mouth of the river Tyne. Both are so small they are hardly worth the effort of burning, but some such gesture is needed. Gilbert de Ghent, I direct you to take a force of the Flemish mercenaries to Durham. Every manor belonging to Cospatric, Cnut Karlison, Sumarlithr Karlison, Gamall Karlison, Thorbrand Karlison and Arnkell is to be burnt and every animal slaughtered, whether in Yorkshire or Northumbria. Send men specifically to seek out and destroy those manors. Every village in Northumbria along the road to Durham is to be burnt and again the livestock carried away or slaughtered. Obviously, you’ll do that on your way back.
“In a week’s time I return to Winchester. Gilbert, I expect to hear from you that Durham is destroyed before I leave.
“Any comments or suggestions? No? Then I will ask Archbishop Ealdred to give us all his blessing and we can get to work.”
After a rest of two days Gilbert de Ghent led 1,000 men, mainly Flemish mercenaries, north towards Durham. They intended to take two days to cover the 65 miles, traveling more cautiously than King William’s much larger army on its march north several days before. Alan and his men were allocated scouting duty in the countryside around York, being given rest on alternate days. As was his wont, Alan spent most of his free days in the library at York Minster, finding several new books which he arranged for the monks to copy in return for works from Colchester Priory.
Every peasant nearby and all the townsfolk, including the well-to-do and the women, were recruited as forced labour to raise the artificial hill that would comprise the motte of the new castle, dig its defensive ditch and to cut and drag in the timber required for construction of the palisade and buildings. By Tuesday 10th March the castle was nearly completed and that day King William, the queen, the new-born prince departed south to Winchester together with 1,000 men, leaving William fitzOsbern to conduct the ‘mopping up’ operations and supervise the completion of the second castle.
Two days after the king and his entourage had departed, Gilbert de Ghent returned. The expedition against Durham had not proceeded well. After a relatively slow and difficult march of two days the Flemings had approached the town, only to find the area wreathed in fog so dense that a man could barely see his hand before of his face. The fog, and the Flemings, had both persisted for three days before, short of supplies, Gilbert had withdrawn his men. Apparently
the English were attributing the fog to the intervention of St. Cuthbert, the patron saint of Durham.
FitzOsbern retained 1,000 men at York, mainly mercenaries, dismissed the feudal levies and paid off the remaining mercenaries, before departing for Winchester on 4th April, the day before Palm Sunday.
Alan and his men formed part of the host returning south.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Thorrington London and Wales April 1069
Alan rode tiredly into the bailey at Thorrington in the middle of the afternoon of Tuesday 7th April at the head of his armed contingent. Whilst there had been no pressing urgency, they had ridden from York to Lincoln and then to Huntingdon in two days- primarily as there were no towns at which to stay between York and Peterborough other than the city of Lincoln itself. At Huntingdon they had left Ermine Street, the old Roman road between London and the north, and headed south-east at a more leisurely pace along the more closely populated lands, taking nearly two days to cover what they had ridden in one day when they had ridden north.
In the countryside through which they passed the geburs- cheorls, sokemen and cottars- and on the larger estates slaves, were hard at work on their rustic pursuits. No matter what the nobles may do, or what armies march, the people had to sow and reap the year’s harvest- or all would starve. The last of the ploughing was being completed, teams of four, six or eight oxen dragging the metal-tipped wooden mould-board ploughs through the ground to turn the sod. In other fields the first of the sowing was taking place. In the meadows and pastures newly-born calves, lambs and foals suckled or gamboled under the watchful eyes of their herders.
Alan dismounted near the manor stables and a groom led Odin away to be rubbed down, watered and fed. Faran the steward greeted his lord with the news that Anne was still in London. Alan presumed she was still attending to business. Anne, originally from the commercial city of Ipswich, was still at heart a city girl and found the activity and insularity or a rural holding somewhat boring- although she could fulfill those duties admirably after her time as lady of two such households. However, she much preferred the stimulation of the ‘cut and thrust’ of merchant activity and the social life that a city could offer.
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