“I say I can’t be satisfied whether he raped her or not,” said Ednoth. “Let him make bot of six shillings, paid to the girl.” The others agreed, the parties were recalled and judgment was given by Alan.
Next was the case of Rowena the witch. The complainants, now only two in number and both women, gave oath that Rowena had cursed their farms, causing illness to their animals, their cows’ milk to curdle and their children to become sick, although now recovered. They called several men to give oath as to their trustworthiness.
Alric, one of the thegns of Alresford, spoke for Rowena as Alan had requested. He pointed out her extreme age, that he had spoken with her a number of times about the case but had been unable to get any sense or anything other than vague mumbles from her. He also said that since the accusation had been made he had arranged for the woman to live with a reputable widow in his own village. The widow, named Mildreth, gave oath that Rowena seemed lacking of wits and spent her time either sitting by the fire or on a chair outside, constantly mumbling to herself. She suffered a speech impediment and one side of her body appeared not to work properly. In the months that she had lived with Mildreth awaiting the trial Rowena had shown no signs of undertaking witchcraft and there had been no untoward events either to her own animals or those of her village.
The three thegns retired long enough to the Solar to quaff a pint of ale each, and returned a unanimous verdict of not guilty. On returning to the Hall Alan announced the verdict and said, “I told you months ago that I viewed the case as a waste of time, as even if you had proven the woman a witch the only penalty at law would be to order her to desist and leave the Hundred. The poor woman has simply lost her wits and this action has been brought out of malice. I order you each to pay bot of five shillings, to be paid to Mildreth and be used by her to care for the woman Rowena. Case closed.”
Shortly afterwards Osmund departed by horse in his journey around Essex, accompanied by four mounted Wolves for protection.
Orvin and his family, including Uncle Lidmann, arrived at Thorrington late on Wednesday afternoon having taken a leisurely two days to travel from Ipswich, the men riding and the women and children travelling in a light horse-drawn cart. Orvin had borrowed six men-at-arms from friends who were thegns near Ipswich.
Anne instructed Otha the cook to prepare a suitable welcoming meal, rather than the usual more simple evening meal. The guests were given a conducted tour of first the village, seeing the water-mill at work and the salt house where the salt from the nearby salt-pans, which Alan had increased in size that spring, was cleaned and ground, and then the fort and Hall where they marvelled at the unusual amenities and the numerous servants and soldiers.
At the evening meal they sat at both sides of the head table, an unusual seating arrangement for the times, so Alan and Anne could converse more easily with their guests, and in particular Orvin and Lidmann who were sitting opposite them.
Otha tended to be more set in her presentation of food than most cooks, with the food being served as a number of removes, starting this night with saffron soup made of egg yolks, verjuice, veal stock, saffron and cinnamon seasoned with nutmeg and grains of paradise, eaten with fresh bread. Over the soup Orvin announced, “The ship from Haarlem has arrived back at Ipswich, an almost new large Dutch-built trading cog with a load of dyes, lace and other goods. The ship’s name is ‘Zeelandt’. I’ve sold the cargo at Ipswich. The sale in Haarlem of those luxury goods taken from the Danes also resulted in a substantial surplus of gold and silver being shipped back. After allowing for the purchase of a return cargo of cloth and wool there is?827 10/ and 4d. Where do you want the ship to go and to collect what cargo?” Alan blinked in amasement at such a huge sum of money.
Anne interjected, “I thought St Nazaire at the mouth of the Loire, collecting ingots of tin in Devon on the way, and returning with a cargo of fine wine- with most discharged at London or Winchester. Perhaps with one sixth of the load at Colchester, one sixth at Ipswich, and then back again on a regular basis.”
Both Orvin and Lidmann nodded agreement. Lidmann said, “We don’t have any factors in Devon or St Nazaire, but I can ask around and get the names of some trustworthy men we can use. That would be a good high-value route to use, but longer and with some greater risk than our usual shorter voyages across the North Sea. The Bay of Biscay is notorious for its bad weather and there are some pirates around Finistere and the Channel Islands.”
“I’ve got an idea for that,” said Alan. “I thought maybe a dozen soldiers on each ship, each armed with a cross-bow or bow and sword or seax would discourage the pirates- particularly if we use fire-arrows. I have a good formula for Wildfire that would give the pirates something to think about other than boarding our ships.”
Lidmann looked at Orvin. “That should work. We can see how it goes.”
“What do you want to do with the surplus funds?” asked Orvin.
“We’ll need some to buy tin on the voyage down, after that we can barter wine for tin. Other than that, I’ll put it with a couple of Jews in London. You and Aaron have given us two names to follow up, Malachi and Gideon,” replied Anne, acting as business manager.
“Yes, they both have a good reputation and are men of substance. Your letter of introduction from Aaron should open the required doors there,” replied Orvin.
“Now for the other news, I have a further fifteen depositions alleging corruption in Suffolk- mainly by Engelric, but also three about Earl Ralph and one against Bishop William. Earl Ralph seems to have kept his activities mainly to Norfolk. I’ve taken the liberty of forwarding them to Roger Bigod, along with a letter on which Cynefrid forged your signature. How are things progressing in that regard down here?”
“Osmund is off collecting depositions from around the shire at the moment. We’ll see what the outcome is over the next few days,” said Alan. “Just as a matter of interest, you must tell me at some stage what was contained in the letter I didn’t send!”
Anne slept at Wivenhoe on Friday night, the same night that Osmund returned with 26 depositions he had collected in his quick journey around the shire. Each was written in both English and Latin with two copies, and each of which was sworn and signed by the deponent and two distinguished witnesses. Alan had other things on his mind that evening, although he had adopted a blase attitude to the whole marriage process and allowed Anne free rein with the arrangements.
Alan had a reasonably restful night of sleep- the only nights he could recall not being able to sleep was the nights before the battles at Hastings and Wivenhoe- and the wedding had been arranged for the morning so that the participants and guests wouldn’t have to sit around all day waiting. The appointed time was in the late morning, an hour before Sext. The appointed place was the steps of the church at Wivenhoe. Alan had asked Edward, the young thegn who lived at Alresford and who had a second manor at St Osyth, to stand as his ‘best man’ and witness. To pass time Alan spent several hours looking at the depositions that Osmund had collected, although with little information sinking into his consciousness.
At about Terce Alan called for the youth Leof and instructed his party to be ready to depart. As he started to put on his best tunic and hose, a simple russet affair made of fine linen, Leof interrupted him saying, “Excuse me, my lord. Lady Anne insisted that you wear this.” and handed Alan a package which when opened revealed a tunic in silk of a yellow so deep in colour as almost to be golden, embroidered in black, and a pair of black silken hose.
“Well, I certainly can’t wear those while I’m riding,” commented Alan as he re-donned the tunic he had initially been wearing. “I’ll have to change at Wivenhoe.”
Although Alan had arranged a feast for the people of Thorrington for later in the day, and the smoke and smell of cooking meat and baking bread was drifting across the village, many of the villagers had decided to make the short journey to Wivenhoe and had departed on foot an hour or so earlier.
Alan’s quite large party was swollen b
y the addition of the three thegns who lived at Alresford as they proceeded through that village. Meeting other invited guests along the way, the company was very substantial when it arrived at Wivenhoe at mid-morning. Alan was gratified to see that the villagers had taken considerable trouble to decorate their houses and the area around the village green with colourful cloths, bunches of flowers and wreathes of ivy.
All of the Hundred thegns had been invited, including those who held church lands at Wrabness, The Naze, St Osyth and Clacton- except the minions of Robert fitzWymarc and Earl Ralph. A number of thegns from Lexden Hundred attended, although their numbers had been depleted by the recent Danish raid.
The village green was thronged with those men and women of local importance and the villagers of Wivenhoe, Thorrington, Alresford, Elmstead, Frating and Great Bentley, all wearing their best clothes. Clouds of pleasant-smelling smoke rose from the cooking pits where numbers of pigs and sheep and oxen were being roasted whole on spits. Tables had been set up to receive the food, and in three places around the Green barrels of ale stood behind serving tables ready to be served when the festivities commenced. From the crowd and festival atmosphere it was almost as if a fair were being held.
After chatting for some time with the invited guests, now joined by his future in-laws Raedwald, Lidmann, Garrett and Betlic, Alan changed his clothing in Father Ator’s house and emerged to whistles and calls of appreciation at the finery he had donned. He was a man who didn’t like standing around waiting and doing nothing, but he was now encountering the dual problems of his situation. Firstly, there was no accurate method of keeping track of time. In large towns or cities time was dictated by the ringing of the bells of the local monastery every three hours. In a village the time was whatever most of the residents agreed. The second was that the tendency of the bridal party to be late is long established. Fortunately it was a warm day, with a few high clouds in the sky to prevent it becoming hot. As required by law the ceremony was taking place outside in the open, on the steps of the wooden church.
Eventually there was a stir in the crowd, starting near the Hall, and the crowd began to coalesce as the bridal party moved towards the church. Anne’s young nieces and nephews ran ahead of the bridal party casting showers of flower petals on the path.
Anne, arm in arm with Orvin, walked in a stately manner towards the groom’s party, now standing on the steps of the church with Father Ator. Her dress, full length and not quite brushing the ground, matched Alan’s tunic, golden silk embroidered in black. It was tight at the bodice and waist before flowing wide at the hips and cut low at the front, but not immodestly so, and had sleeves that hung loose from below the elbow.
The bridesmaids, her sister Mae and sister-in-law Ellette, both wore tight-fitting dresses of burgundy-coloured silk. Fortunately they both had the figures to carry-off the desired effect. All three wore their hair loose and long, unusual as covered hair was the norm for women except at weddings. Anne wore a wreath of woven ivy, herbs, and flowers with gold-coloured ribbons attached and hanging loosely over the back of her head, and carried a large bouquet of flowers- the gloriosa lily, with the appearance of crushed red velvet, ivy, red rose, amaryllis, birch twigs and holly branches, parrot tulips and wheat- the last a sign of fertility.
Behind them came a train comprising the mother-of-the-bride, a group of well-dressed thegn’s wives and Anne’s maids, all four presented with new clothes for this occasion. As the bridal party appeared and moved closer, the invited guests and villagers had moved to the church steps, leaving a central pathway for the bridal party.
As they arrived, Alan winked at Orvin, who was still arm in arm with his daughter and who had hardly noticed until now. Of much the same height as Anne he was wearing a tunic of burgundy-coloured silk and black silk tights. With a smile Orvin gave Anne’s hand to Alan and took a step backwards. Anne placed a necklace made of beads of white jasper around Alan’s neck, signifying Gentleness. Alan noticed that she wore two necklaces, one of red jasper indicating Love and the other of green jasper indicating Virtue and Faith.
They turned to face Father Ator and the service began. Alan found he wasn’t able to pay much attention to the preliminary part of the service and the homily delivered by the priest. Father Ator asked if any present knew a reason why the couple should not be married and then asked Anne and Alan so that they may confess any reason prohibiting their marriage. After receiving no response from the congregation and a negative response from Anne and Alan, he proceeded.
“Alan, wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife? Wilt thou love her and honour her, keep her and guard her, in health and in sickness, as a husband should a wife, and forsaking all others on account of her, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?”
Alan replied, “I will”.
“Anne, wilt thou have this man to be thy wedded husband? Wilt thou love him, obey him and honour him, keep him and guard him, in health and in sickness, as a wife should a husband, and forsaking all others on account of him, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”
“I will,” replied Anne.
“Who gives this woman to this man?” asked Father Ator.
“I do,” replied Orvin.
Father Ator nodded and said, “Let the bride and groom now exchange vows.”
“I, Alan, take thee, Anne to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness, and in health, till death do us part, if the holy church will ordain it. And thereto I plight thee my troth,” said Alan.
“I, Anne, take thee, Alan to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness, and in health, till death do us part, if the holy church will ordain it. And thereto I plight thee my troth.”
The wedding rings were presented to the priest who then blessed them, and the rings were exchanged. Alan and Anne then entered the church and approached the altar where Father Ator gave a prayer and a blessing, ending the ceremony.
When Alan and Anne walked back out through the church door there was a universal cheer and they were showered with grains of wheat. Arm in arm they walked to the centre of the village green and Alan, now lord of Wivenhoe, pronounced that the celebrations were to commence. There was another cheer and the invited guests began to drift towards the Hall where food and entertainment had been arranged for the more noble of the guests. First Alan and Anne spent about half an hour circulating amongst the crowd of cheorls, sokemen, cottars and slaves, greeting those they knew, which were nearly all from their own villages, chatting and making jokes, before they entered the Hall.
At first glance the Hall appeared in pandemonium. There were perhaps 100 people milling around in the small area between the tables that had been set up and occupied most of the Hall. After a moment or two Alan realised that in fact servants were circulating with trays bearing mugs of ale and cups of mead and wine. Others carried trays of ‘finger food’ as the hour was now well past when most ate their mid-day meal.
Walking to the high table Alan signalled for a blast on a horn to call attention, and in a loud voice asked the guests to find a seat as the celebratory meal was about to begin. With their innate knowledge of their position in the local hierarchy the guests found positions at the tables that suited their social circumstances.
After toasts to the happy couple the food began to arrive. The First Remove was zanzarella soup; chicken broth with eggs and cheese thickened with breadcrumbs and spiced with pepper; veal and egg pies spiced with ginger, pepper and mace; flampoyntes; pork pies with cottage cheese, anise and pine nuts; spinach and egg tarte with parsley and cheese with mustard greens and cress with milk of almonds. The Second Remove was seafood, with shrimps sauteed in garlic; scallops in white wine; baked cod; pan-fried flounder with garlic sauce with almonds and melted cheese sauce, with perre and makke as the vegetables. The Third Remove was meats, some from the roasting pits outs
ide. Other offerings were stuffed suckling pig; roasted swan with bacon; chicken almond fricatellae; roast beef; stewed mutton with herbs; veal in bokenade with spices, all with fried broad beans with onions, roasted parsnip, boiled salad and peas royale with almond milk, mint, parsley and sugar. Being summer, the desserts were a variety of seasonal fruit in pies- blueberry, blackberry and strawberry- hulwa made with honey, custard tarts and six varieties of cheese ranging from plain to very piquant.
With the consumption of alcohol the gathering grew ever more noisy, only quieting when the jugglers and singers hired by Anne performed, and particularly when Owain and Alwin sang a series of duets in Welsh. Anne and Mae sang a set of English love songs, accompanied by Owain on the lute and Alwin on the pan pipes.
Halfway through the proceedings came the time that Alan had been dreading- the dances. Having practiced over the past several days Anne knew that Alan danced with all the elegance of an ox. Fortunately the dances were quite simple and there were no complicated steps to memorise. They danced a simple duet, before being joined by some of the other guests in a carole, a circular dance.
The space in the Hall had allowed only a limited area to be provided for entertainment so only a few could take the floor at any time. This was followed by a number of other community dances such as a chain-dance, a brandsle and a pavane. At ‘Hole in the Wall’ Alan found the footwork too difficult and handed Anne to Edward and retired to the high table to sit with Orvin, who was sipping wine. Most of the male guests were like Alan, men with better footwork with a sword than on the dance floor, and the number of dancers participating fell to those dances involving two to four couples at a time. The six musicians played lutes, flutes, a psaltery and a small hand-drum.
At about the time of Vespers in the late evening, between dances and music, Alan rose and called for silence, stilling the dull roar of the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen! Friends all! I thank you for coming to share our nuptials this day. The event has been made all the more solemn by your attendance and more enjoyable by your participation in the festivities this afternoon. Please stay and enjoy the fellowship and hospitality as long as you wish, but the bride and groom must now depart so we can be at our destination of Thorrington before nightfall. We both thank you again for your attendance this day, and look forward to our future meetings. May God bless you all!”
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