by K T Findlay
As Thomas gently urged his horse to walk on, Cuthbert burst out ‘With respect Your Highness, the tithe is not yours to forgive! It is the Church’s debt, not yours!’
Thomas stopped his horse, staring straight ahead, not looking at the priest. ‘If forgiveness of the tithe is truly within your gift, and I do not yet accept that as fact, I would urge you to remember that the gift of land for your church is within mine. Perhaps the best piece to choose may be the part that was washed away from this man’s land. After all, according to you, God has already claimed it, so perhaps that is God’s will also!!’
He finally twisted to face Cuthbert, his face red with anger, ‘And the decision as to whether or not you are the right priest for my people definitely lies with me, despite what the Archbishop may think!’
Cuthbert cowered away from this attack.
Thomas was shouting now, his anger overwhelming his judgement. ‘How dare you, as a representative of a gentle, kind and good man such as Jesus Christ, threaten to starve a fellow’s family on the basis of an accident of nature, just so you can have more money that you do not even need?!’ Spit had formed in the corners of his mouth now, the redness in his cheeks faded into white.
Cuthbert, his own face white with fear, reeled back from the onslaught.
‘Fortunately for you I do not claim as you so arrogantly do, to know the mind of God! I only know my own. You may have tonight to reconsider your position.’ continued Thomas, beginning to calm down a little. ‘Tomorrow we will discuss it in a calmer manner, in front of the village. And we will decide whether you will continue to be the priest here. Now go!’ he hissed.
Cuthbert stumbled backwards a few steps, but came up short as he turned to leave. Half the village was there, watching. He saw no support in the faces. Humour? Yes. Grim satisfaction? Yes. Fear? Yes. But support? None. Love? None.
Trying to maintain his dignity, he pushed through them, heading back from whence he’d come, face set in what he hoped was a neutral expression. The murmur of chatter and soft laughter kept him company back to his hut.
Thomas felt his rage abate as he watched the priest’s retreating back. ‘Wulfstan?’ he asked.
‘I’m here.’ said a clearly shocked Wulfstan. ‘Do you fight with every person you meet?’
‘No. But I see no reason to tolerate bullying when I’m in a position to stop it. Can you please go and follow that priest creature and see what he gets up to? I don’t trust him.’ said Thomas.
‘On my way.’ said Wulfstan, as he floated slowly after the man of God.
Thomas looked around him. The people were watching him with keen interest, glancing to Hengist, and back to him again. He would need to settle things with them before anything else could be done. He sat upright on his horse, and bowed to them.
‘Good people,’ he said, ‘as Hengist confirmed, I am the new owner of the manor. The situation is temporary, and Hengist will continue to run it until it returns to him. I am Prince Wulfstan, son of Offa, King of Mercia. I have a task to complete for the King, that of raising a troop of fighters. This manor will be our base to do that.’
The villagers nodded. One spoke up, a slim, elderly man, face deeply lined, his hair a dirty grey. ‘When will they be joining you oh Prince? And where do you want them to stay when they are here?’
Hengist leaned towards Thomas and said ‘This is Alfred, the wisest man in the manor. He usually runs the place when I am gone.’
Thomas threw out his left hand. ‘I have already found two of them Alfred, these ladies here. Meet Rowena and Berthilda, my companions.’
A round of startled muttering erupted from the villagers. Alfred raised one eyebrow. ‘Female warriors Your Highness?’
Thomas met his gaze and smiled. ‘Yes indeed my friend. The King and I have a bet. He has challenged me to collect and train ten slave girls, and then beat Thegn Grimketil and his men in mortal combat. Rowena and Berthilda have volunteered to join me.’
The chattering subsided. He could see a number of the men casting appreciative glances over Rowena and Berthilda. That had to be nipped in the bud too, before anyone did something they would regret.
‘Ladies and gentlemen of the manor,’ he said, ‘I wish you all to be quite clear on one thing. Although these two ladies are legally slaves, they are also my chosen companions. They are entitled to bear arms at all times. They are also entitled to be treated with the greatest respect, again at all times. When either of them asks something of you, assume they are asking on my behalf. I will expect you to comply.’
Now there were frowns appearing on some of the faces.
‘Your Highness,’ said Alfred, ‘female warriors are, not common. This is new to us. Slaves ordering freemen and women to do things is also new to us. It is likely mistakes will be made, and misunderstandings to occur. And how will our own slaves behave when they see what rights your companions have? Will this not sow discord in the village?’
Thomas nodded. ‘Fair questions Alfred. They will be free women in a year’s time, not slaves, so think of them as that if it makes things any easier. Secondly, the villagers are used to doing what you tell them because you are Hengist’s representative. This is no different. You can tell by their clothes and their bearing that Rowena and Berthilda have high status. Their hair will grow longer from now on, so they will look more and more free as time passes. There should be no reason for trouble.’
Some of the men were still looking angry and unhappy. Thomas spread out his arms, palms up, and beamed at them. ‘My friends, I do not want to impose anything upon the free men and women of this manor that they do not desire.’ That generated more head nodding. One of the still grumpy looking men started to open his mouth.
‘So, as I wish to be surrounded by people who want to be with me, I will allow any free man or free woman to leave the manor to go and live somewhere else if they have a problem with any of this. I can arrange exchanges with other manors. Just let me know if you wish to do that. You don’t have to decide now, you can do it whenever you want.’
There were mouths open now. The grumpy looking one had slammed his shut. Alfred just quietly nodded his head.
Thomas looked around to Hengist. ‘Is there anything else you would like to add?’
Hengist nodded towards the horses. ‘I think they need to know the responsibility everyone will have to look after the horses.’
‘Quite right. Where will they be stabled?’
‘Behind the hall. The stables and the barn are both there. There is a field between the stables and the river where they can graze and run before being settled for the night.’ said Hengist.
‘Can I leave that to you and Alfred?’
‘Yes my Lord.’
‘Excellent. And where is it best for us to live and to sleep?’
Hengist indicated the two huts immediately to their left.
‘These are the guest houses, but perhaps in the circumstances we might be better off all living in the hall? I have one part walled off as my own quarters, but the rest is all one big room. If you would like to go and look things over to see if it’s to your satisfaction, Alfred and I will see to the horses and baggage.’
Thomas nodded, and dismounted. He walked to the front of his horse, stroked its nose softly, and tickled it behind the ears. ‘I’ll come and see you soon, and make sure you are all comfortable and well fed.’ The horse nuzzled him gently in return before Hengist led him away.
Thomas addressed himself once more to an astonished Ashlin. ‘Do not worry about your tithe. It is either forgiven, or the manor will pay it on your behalf. And do not worry about the future either. Somehow we’ll make a space for you and your family.’
Ashlin smiled nervously, and nodded repeatedly. ‘Thank you Your Highness! Thank you!’
‘You’re welcome. Now off you go home and tell your wife and children they can sleep peacefully tonight.’
Ashlin did one more nervous bow, then turned and ran off towards the river. Thomas watched him go,
then turned to his companions. ’Rowena and Berthilda, come with me please. Let’s look at our new home.’
The three of them walked towards the door of the hall, in front of which was a cluster of young children. Thomas gave them a friendly smile, and said. ‘Hello. I’m Prince Wulfstan. What are your names?’
Shyly, a little boy with a fresh scar across his forehead returned the smile and answered, ‘I’m Sigeberht. These are Oscar and Oswin my brothers, and these are Grimhild and Gundy, my sisters.’
‘Pleased to meet you all.’ said Thomas. ‘How did you get that scar Sigeberht?’
The boy blushed. ‘The priest hit me with his stick because I said a prayer wrong in church.’
Thomas was stunned and shook his head in bewilderment. ‘You were reciting a prayer in church. You made a mistake, and Cuthbert hit you across the face with his stick, hard enough to break the skin and leave a scar?’
Frightened, Sigeberht withdrew his hand, and nodded fearfully.
Thomas took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled, trying to calm the fury that was bubbling back up to his lips. He smiled into Sigeberht’s face, and gently retook his hand.
‘Well then,’ he said, ‘let’s see what we can do about that shall we? I have a task for you and your friends here, to be ready for me to use before breakfast tomorrow. I want you to find and collect one small very dark stone for each person in the village, and one very light stone. I want to make two piles, one very clearly dark stones, and one very clearly light stones. I don’t want any confusion as to whether a stone is light or dark. And I mean one for every man, woman, boy and girl over the age of 6 in the village. Include free people and slaves. One light and one dark for everyone. And bring them to me when you have done it. Understood?’
He smiled again, looking into each of the four faces.
‘Do you understand?’ he asked again.
‘Yes sir.’ They cried in unison.
‘Good. Then off you go! The sooner you start the sooner you finish. Oh, and if your parents ask what you’re doing, tell them the Prince has given you a very important job to be done by nightfall.’
He laughed as the five children took off towards the river.
‘What are you going to do?’ asked Rowena.
‘I'm going to give people a lesson in ancient Greek.’ grinned Thomas. ‘Come on, let’s look at this hall.’
7 Foundations Established
Wulfstan floated off after the priest, who managed to maintain his dignity all the way back to his hut at the very end of the lane, opposite Ashlin’s. Once there however, Cuthbert let loose a string of curses so strong that his two slaves cowered as far away from him as the little building allowed.
The priest picked up a hand axe, and smashed it as hard as he could into a branch stacked next to the open fire in the middle of the room.
‘That little runt! Prince or no prince, I know how to deal with him!’ he swore as the branch split into two and flew into the darkness. Down the axe came on the next branch which splintered into matchwood. ‘I’ll kill him!’ he seethed.
The female slave gasped.
Cuthbert froze.
Suddenly aware that he had uttered treason in the hearing of others, his whole demeanour changed. The angry uncontrolled rage was kicked aside by the cold blooded knowledge that there was only one way to ensure silence. His grip hardened around the handle of the axe, and he turned to face the cowering woman. He managed a single step before she made a bolt for the door.
‘C’mere!’ he screamed at her. ‘Don’t you dare run from your master!’
Skirts flying, mouth open in terror, she burst from the door and into the lane, running as fast as she could, with Cuthbert hard on her heels, his face twisted in fury. Behind him, the male slave slipped quietly out of the door and headed in the opposite direction, west across the fields, and into the forest.
Air searing into her lungs, legs pistoning, the woman knew it wouldn’t be enough. He would catch her and that would be that. Cuthbert was equally certain of this, and he was already closing the gap. Other villagers jumped to the side as the pair tore past. Nobody tried to stop her. Nobody tried to save her. Why would they? She was his property and he could do what he liked with her. And he was the priest. Who would go against the one who stood between you and God?
As she approached the hall, five small children ran out across her path, laughing and giggling. She jinked to her left, just missing them, and heard an angry shout from the hall.
‘Cuthbert!!!! Leave her alone!!! That’s an order!!’
Hope! Maybe there was some! She jinked again, this time to her right, but her foot slipped on the ground and she was down, skidding through the manure that spattered the road surface. Cuthbert’s foot thudded into her back, but it wasn’t a kick. He’d been caught by surprise, and simply ran into her. In a heartbeat he was face down in the muck himself, cursing and swearing. First to go down, the slave was first to get up too, fear driving her forward. Desperately she looked at the door to the Hall, made up her mind and went for it. Flat out once more, she bounded into the doorway, running straight into a little boy coming out.
Thomas was knocked flying by the impact, and bounced across the room and into the wall.
The woman went tumbling along the floor, coming to a halt just in front of the great fireplace. She rolled onto her back and saw her would be killer bound through the doorway, axe raised high above his head. A shout of triumph erupted from Cuthbert’s throat as he rushed forward, eyes fixed upon his prey. She screamed! There was a blur from her left and a body thudded into the priest, knocking him off his feet. The pair of them crashed past the hearth to land on the floor in a jumbled heap. The scream of triumph turned instantly to one of fury. Cuthbert grabbed his assailant’s arm with his left hand and forced it to the floor. He raised his right, the axe poised high.
‘Halt! Or I’ll shoot!’ came a cry from behind him. He hesitated. Looking over his shoulder he saw Rowena, bow drawn back, a broadhead arrow pointing straight into his face.
‘She means it.’ came Thomas’s voice.
The world froze for Cuthbert. He looked down to see Berthilda glowering back at him.
‘Let me go priest!’ she spat. ‘If you don’t, my friend will end your life in an instant.’
Cuthbert did nothing until he saw Rowena’s arms beginning to quiver with the strain of holding the bow, then let the axe fall to the floor. It missed Berthilda’s fingers by less than an inch. Eyes still locked, he let her go, and slowly stood up. He didn’t offer to help her to her feet. Nor did he apologise.
He looked at Thomas, his clasped hands twisting together. ‘It seems my clumsy slave has committed a serious offence by knocking her Prince to the ground. I will take her away and punish her for that, and for the other things she has done this day.’
Without waiting for a reply, he stepped toward the slave woman, who scurried away backwards on her elbows, mouth wide in terror.
‘I think not Cuthbert.’ came the soft voice of the Prince. ‘Please do not touch her, or you will die.’
Cuthbert stiffened. ‘Your Highness? She is my property, and my responsibility. She must be taught her duty.’
Thomas shook his head as he walked towards them. Ignoring Cuthbert, he offered his hand to the woman. ‘Please. Get up off the floor. It was clearly an accident. You never meant to flatten me.’
The woman stared at him open mouthed, still too terrorised to respond.
‘Come lass.’ soothed Thomas. ‘Nothing will happen to you now. Come. Take my hand and stand up.’ He smiled his biggest, warmest smile.
‘He was going to kill her Thomas!’ cried Wulfstan, finally finding a gap in the conversation.
‘I could tell.’ said Thomas. ‘Why?’
‘Because he was swearing and cursing once he got home, and threatening to kill you. I think he was frightened she might tell someone.’
Thomas bent down towards her. ‘Why was Cuthbert chasing you so hard my dear?’
&nbs
p; In the face of her terrified silence he sighed. ‘Come, come. It gets boring looking into an open mouth. Why was he trying to kill you?’
Finally she found her voice. ‘He…he…he… said bad things about the Prince. He said he would kill the Prince. He didn’t know I was there when he said it. But when he saw me, he came after me with the axe! So I ran!’ Tears burst from her eyes.
Thomas looked at Cuthbert. ‘Well?’ he asked.
‘She lies!’ hissed Cuthbert. ‘She tells lies all the time! She is a useless servant, constantly needing correction!’
‘Yes…’ murmured Thomas, looking at her carefully. ‘A black eye, bruises around the mouth, burns on her upper arms, broken finger nails. Skinny and underfed. Starved even.’
He looked again at the priest, shaking his head in bemusement.
‘Just what kind of man of God are you Cuthbert? Do you think violence is the way of our Lord? Do you think that being a priest gives you the right to do anything you like to anyone else? Do you think that to be cruel is to be godly?’
‘She is a slave! I can do anything I like to my own slave, even kill her! And that is what I am going to do!’ He looked defiantly at them all. ‘The law says I can, and there is nothing you can do about it!’
‘Yes there is.’ said Thomas, so quietly they could hardly hear him. He took out a small purse and removed a coin.
‘Here’s three times what she is worth if you tried to sell her on the market. I am buying her off you, with immediate effect.’ He handed the coin to a mute Cuthbert.
To the woman he said. ‘Please get up, and stand behind me.’
She scrambled quickly to her feet, and without taking her eyes off the priest, scooted in behind her new owner.
Cuthbert shook his head helplessly. ‘You have no right. Not even a prince can flaunt the law. She is mine. You cannot do this.’
‘I can, and I have.’ said Thomas firmly. ‘And what is more, you are banned from ever owning another slave. For the rest of your life. If I catch you owning a slave in Mercia, I shall deal with you severely.’