by Griff Hosker
My father handed his reins to Garth and stepped forward. “Who is it that stops the progress of Ridley who was of Coxold and fought with Harold Godwinson?”
Silence filled the forest until a voice from the forest shouted, angrily, “You lie, Ridley and Aelfraed fell in foreign fields fighting the fierce Norsemen.”
“Then I must be a ghost and you cannot kill me. Come and face me like a man. I like to see the face of the man who promises to kill me. I swear that we will not do you harm if you approach in peace.”
The hidden voice laughed, “Three youths, a woman and five old men do not worry me!”
“These old men are Varangian Guards and you should fear them but I give my word you shall not be harmed.”
We were all standing in a defensive circle. There was no movement in the woods neither was there a flurry of arrows. Eventually half a dozen men with bows, dressed in leather approached from the woods to the west. They all wore hoods and I took them to be the hooded men we had been warned about.
My father took off his helmet as they approached. I wondered if this was a foolish gesture but, amazingly one of the archers lowered both his hood and his bow. “It is you, my lord!”
“Branton! You are still alive.” They ran towards each other and embraced. The other hooded men did not know how to react but they lowered their bows. We lowered our weapons although Wulfstan still protected Faren. I felt obliged to follow my father but I still felt threatened by the men hidden in the woods. I had no doubt that we had seen but a portion of their force.
“Where is Osbert?”
The grey haired bowman who stood next to my father shook his head. “He has been dead these twenty years. William the Bastard’s men hanged him.” He pointed behind him. “There is his son, Harold Osbertson.” A man my age stepped forward and nodded.
“I can see his father in him. And do you have sons, Branton the archer?”
“I did but they were taken in the plague along with my wife.”
“My wife and daughters were taken too. This is my son, Alfraed.” I stepped forward and clasped the man’s arm. “This is Branton who led Aelfraed’s archers.” He embraced his old friend again and laughed. “This is wyrd.”
“It is my lord. And do you return to Coxold?”
“No, the king has given me the manor of Norton on the Tees.”
The young man who had led the hooded men from the woods picked up his bow again. “As I thought; Normans!”
Osric stepped forward, “Hooded Man, you may have more men in the woods but if you say that again then you will find your head separated from your body. We fought the Normans when you were still sucking on your mother’s titty! The man you insult fought at Stamford Bridge and was named an outlaw. Think before you speak.”
The one called Branton snapped, “Enough Robert of the Woods! These are friends. You do not rule this band yet.”
My father turned to the young man. “The Normans are here now, my friend. All the ranting and the raving cannot shift them but there are still English men and we will reclaim this land but not by force of arms. My son may dress as a Norman but he is an English knight. And soon there will be more of them.” He spread his arms towards the hooded men. “Any who wish to follow me may come to my new manor on the Tees. I know not what we will find but I can guarantee land and Scots to fight. What say you?”
Branton stood behind my father. “I was ever your oathsworn.”
He nodded and Harold Osbertson joined him. “And I grew up with tales of Aelfraed and Ridley, the housecarls. I will join you for I have had enough of hiding in the woods. I would be a free man again.”
Four others joined us and Branton shouted, “Would any others join us?”
Six men came from the forest and stood behind us. Robert of the Woods looked distinctly unhappy but he gave a wry smile. “Then it seems I now rule the hooded men. I will be sorry to see you leave me, Branton and Harold but I will stay here and fight the Normans!”
Once our twelve new comrades had collected their belongings, which were meagre, they followed us north. We had to leave them outside of Nottingham when we went into the castle to buy supplies and more horses for they were known as outlaws. We also bought some short swords for them. My father was determined that they would be men at arms and not bandits.
The next few days were interesting for me as I saw a different father. He and Branton spent the whole journey talking to each other. He seemed to become younger. How was this possible? Occasionally they turned around to look at me. I guessed they were talking about me. Osric and the others kept their distance from the new men. Only Wulfstan spoke with them. I asked him about that, “Osric and the others are still bridling at being called Normans. They would fight the sons of the Bastard still if they could.”
“But the man who insulted them is many miles south in the forest.”
“Oh they will come around but it will take a few blows and harsh words first. When the air is cleared they will fight shoulder to shoulder.”
“And yet you are friendly towards them.”
“I lived longer under the Normans. Your father’s oathsworn have spent most of their lives in the east and they have a distorted view of England.” He nodded towards Harold Osbertson who rode behind Branton. “Speak with him. He is desperate for companionship and you are of an age.” I wondered if I should. Wulfstan added, “He would make a good squire. If he lived off his wits in the woods then he will be handy and he is young enough to train.”
He was right, of course. Annoyingly Wulfstan was always right. I nudged Scout to ride next to the young archer. While most of the new men walked we had had two spare horses for Branton and Harold. The young man glanced at me as came next to him and then fixed his eyes on the back of Branton’s head.
“Will you miss the woods and the forest?”
He looked at me, “Would you?”
I shrugged. “I have never lived in the woods. This trip is the first time I have camped under the trees. It is summer and it is dry. If you did not enjoy the life then why suffer it? Surely there should have been somewhere you could have gone to make a living.”
He shook his head, “I am sorry, my lord, but you know nothing. I was brought up to hunt and to fight. Both are forbidden by the Normans.” He sighed, “I know not why Robert of the Wood spurned your offer. I would have followed your father anyway but as a retainer of a Baron I shall never be hungry again and I will get to hunt and to fight. This is one of the greatest days of my life.”
“You do not show the same pleasure I would.”
“That is because I have had nothing in my life so far and until I have lived for two moons in this Norton I shall not believe that my luck has changed.”
“You believe in luck then?”
“Aye. My father, Branton and I have had nought but bad luck.”
“My father says that a man makes his own luck. When he and Aelfraed left to travel through the land of the Rus and reached their Miklagård there were many times they could have turned back or given in but they were determined.”
“Aye, I know. My father and Uncle Branton often said that they wished they had followed the Housecarls to the east. Their lives would have been better.”
I realised then that I was looking at myself had my father not made those decisions all those years ago. Each day I was gaining more and more respect for the man I had taken for granted. He was quiet and unassuming but he had a rod of steel which ran through him.
We rode in silence. It was comfortable. Strangely I no longer felt like the baby of the group. Aiden did not count for he was a slave. Eventually Harold turned and asked, “What is this manor of Norton like?”
“I have no idea. I suspect it will be a dangerous place. The last lord of the manor was killed and his family enslaved by the Scots.”
He nodded, “If I cannot kill Normans then Scotsmen will do.”
I laughed, “I like you, Harold. You speak your mind and that is good.” He smiled at me and I risked re
jection as I asked him, “Would you be my squire?”
He looked at me and frowned, “Squire?”
“I would have you help me to prepare for war and in return I will train you to be a knight.”
“You would do that? You would help me become a knight?”
“It is not an easy route believe me. It is an easier life being a man at arms.”
“I would rather be a knight. When the Normans came on their mighty horses and drove us into the forests I was angry for I wanted to fight back but I could not. Even with the knight killer arrows we could not defeat them. I would like to be able to face knights equally.”
“But we have sworn allegiance to Henry. We cannot fight Normans.”
He smiled, “Who knows what the future might bring, besides it will take some time to train a bumpkin like me to be a knight but I will be your squire, Lord Alfraed of Norton, and gladly serve you.”
I help out my hand and he clasped it. “Then you are my squire.” I suddenly noticed that Branton and my father were watching us and they were smiling.
Chapter 7
We skirted York for the same reason that we had avoided Nottingham. We had also tired of comments about the armour and weapons wielded by my father’s men. They marked them as Saxons and Wulfstan and Osric had had to use their strength to ensure our safety. We left a few bloodied noses and broken coxcombs in our wake. Besides which we had less than sixty miles to travel. My father and Branton remembered a narrow stretch of water we could ferry to cross the Tees and avoid further attention. The new men at arms were a resourceful group of men who could chop down trees quickly. They tied them together to make a raft ferry in less than half a day. That way we could reach the manor without encountering other Normans who might object to our presence. My father was being careful. He wanted a wall around us before he met his neighbours. Strong walls made for healthy neighbours. He knew that the Bishop of Durham was still in London and he could not upset him by failing to present his titles. Any clerics who might be unhappy could be ignored. The walls were what were important.
We made our wooden ferry to cross the Tees at a narrow bend in the river some twelve miles from Norton. We saw a walled farm on the escarpment and Osric was convinced that we were being watched. None of them knew the name of the settlement. This was not a friendly place. We rode north without speaking to our new neighbours. As Wulfstan pointed out, “They have been raided and attacked from the south and from the north. It will take some time to build trust. Fear not, Alfraed, your father is skilled when talking to people. They will trust him and come around to his viewpoint.”
I was learning much about my father. In fact the slow journey north had given me the chance to see him in a different light. In Constantinople he had been the Emperor’s man. Here he was his own man. King Henry was on the other side of the Channel. My father had more authority even though he commanded fewer men than he had before.
Since Harold had agreed to be my squire I had spent every moment of each day instructing him in the skills of a knight. We could do much from the back of a horse. I taught him the names for all the equipment he would have to service and clean. He had much to learn. He could use a sword but had no experience with a shield, armour, or a helmet. None of them were easy to use. They looked to be easy but in the hands of a novice a shield could be a hindrance. Each night I devoted an hour to giving him the basics of a sword and a shield. I also had to show him how to ride properly. He knew how to stay on a horse and that was about it.
Wulfstan and the others spent the same hour improving the skills of the new men at arms. As archers they were peerless but they had much to learn about other weapons. We had time and we would use it. By the time we reached the stone church at Norton we were ready to put down roots.
The church was unfinished. There were stone walls and a wooden tower. The half finished roof was just covered in turf. We reached the site too late to begin work and so we explored the land. We would camp and when dawn broke set about building our castle. My father took me in the church while the others scouted the land.
“This will be where I will be buried Alfraed. We have to finish this quickly.”
I gave him a sudden, worried look. “You are not ill are you? I know that this cold climate is not good…”
“Fear not my son I have no intention of leaving you yet.” He took out his sword and tapped the floor. It was dirt. “This should be a stone floor. The walls are stone but I wonder why it is unfinished?”
Perhaps my ears were younger or I was more alert but I heard the noise from behind the tattered hemp curtain which hung listlessly at the back of the altar. I whipped out my sword. “Come from behind there before I pierce your hide.”
I heard a voice, full of fear, say, “I am sorry, masters, do not hurt me.”
The figure which emerged from behind the curtain was almost a skeleton dressed in rags. I later learned that Peter was but two years younger than I was but it was difficult to tell that from his first appearance.
“Son, put your sword away.” I sheathed it and my father waved the youth forward. “Come so that we can see you. Tell us your name and your story.”
“I am Peter of Yarum. I served with the priest of this church Father Egbert.”
“And where is he now?”
The young man pointed outside the doorway. “He died three months ago. He received a blow to the head when the Scots took the lord of the manor, Baron De Ville. He did not recover. I buried him and gave him the last rites.”
“You are a priest then?”
He shook his head. “I was learning to be a priest.”
“And why have you stayed?”
“The church was all that Father Egbert wanted. He saw it as a sign that civilisation had arrived.”
“What happened here? We have heard that the manor was raided by the Scots. How did you survive?”
He began to well up. “I would have stayed when the soldiers came, but Father Egbert made me run and hide.” He pointed to a large oak tree. “I climbed up there and saw them.”
“Come we will go outside for you need food and I would sit while you tell me the tale.”
Aiden had seen to the horses and Wulfstan had lit a fire. Faren was already preparing food. She looked up when we approached. “Faren, this is Peter and he needs food.”
“That he does, master. Here, eat this to be going on with.” She handed him some stale bread and a bowl of the thin soup she was making. She was a fine cook and the broth would be nourishing. When she had finished cooking it would be a hearty meal. He gratefully took the bowl and dipped the bread in to soften it. He closed his eyes and sucked, almost deliriously on the softening loaf. Father nodded to a couple of nearby decaying logs and I pulled them over so that we could sit down.
We waited until he had cleaned the bowl. Faren said, “You will have to wait now until the food is ready for all but you will need many more meals before we see some flesh on your bones.”
My father laughed, “She has a sharp tongue, Peter, but she is kind. Now that you have eaten tell me all. I will ask questions when you have finished.”
“They came from the north across the tidal marshes. His lordship had not thought an enemy would come across them for they are dangerous.” He shrugged, “Perhaps they had a guide for they knew the secret pathways. I was woken by the noise of battle. They broke down the gate for it was not finished. That was when I was told to hide. By the time I reached the tree all of the knights had been killed and Father Egbert struck on the head. They took the Lady Adele and her mother Judith of Norton. The slaves they took too but the men they slaughtered.”
”Tell me, Peter, for you have lived here with the deceased Baron of Norton, how do you suppose that Scottish raiders managed to get here through the land of the Bishop of Durham and Hartness?”
The young novice looked at the ground and shook his head. “I am but a novice priest. I know not about such things.”
My father nodded and smiled, “Would you
still be a priest?”
His eyes opened in surprise, “Yes, my lord, but how? I am but a novice.”
“You can read?” He nodded. “Then you can learn.” He pointed to the church. “I will finish this church and you shall be my priest. I will get you ordained.”
“You can do this, my lord?”
“Probably but you will be God’s man first and then mine. Understand? You will be loyal to me!” Peter nodded and dropped to his knees. “Come, rise. You are no slave. Now as my man you must be truthful. Answer me about these Scots. How do you know that they were Scots?”
“I did not recognise their coat of arms and they spoke with an accent.”
“Then they could have come from anywhere north of here. Possibly just over the other side of the tidal reaches.”
“But that is Hartness and the land of Baron De Brus.”
My father said nothing in answer to that. “Faren, see to some better clothes for the priest. Father Peter is now my man too. Alfraed, come with me and we will find Wulfstan.”
We headed north towards the edge of the land that belonged to my father. “We will need good stone and a mason. I will also need to visit with this De Brus and see the Bishop’s reeve at Durham. I need to sniff out the land. There is something wrong here.”
“How will we get the stone here?”
“There are quarries close to Persebrig. We can sail them down and use carts to bring them the last four miles or so. That is for the future. We need more horses and we need our walls up.”
Ralph and the others trudged up the bank. I saw that their boots were covered in mud. “It is treacherous down there my lord. There are muddy holes that will suck you down. We need not worry too much about an attack from this direction.”
“And that is where you are wrong, old friend. Someone used paths in that morass to launch an attack on the castle. We need to make this side of our fort impregnable.” As we walked back he told Branton and his other oathsworn what we had discovered.