Wolves in Armour nc-1 Read online

  “I’m perfectly content with the people I have and intend to make no changes, other than to manumit my slaves. Thegns, cheorls, sokeman and cottars will remain unaffected. The only thing that I can see that will change the very generous way that King William has treated his former enemies is if they plot or revolt against him. If that happens, then his wrath will be terrible to behold and there’ll be devastation and slaughter on a large scale. He rewards loyalty, and punishes disloyalty with utmost severity.

  “Do you intend to free your slaves? William and the new Norman lords have sworn to keep to the laws of the Confessor. I, and I expect, our king, will do so. A few recently arrived Normans may not. But again that will be no different to the past and when this comes to William’s attention he will deal with it if necessary.” Alan wiped his hands on the table-cloth. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have lost my appetite and will go about my duties.” He did, however, slip the capon pie into his pocket and carry a quart jug of ale out with him.

  Alan spent the early afternoon with Kendrick the steward making the arrangements for the ploughing of the demesne fields. It was the end of the first week in March and the ground was no longer frozen hard. Alan had divided his own demesne into thirds and intended to implement the three-field system. The first of the sokeman had started to plough their own fields and it was time for Alan to insist on his rights of priority. With the coming of the ploughing season and the start of sowing early the following month, work on the fort, which had been proceeding slowly in any event, would have to cease. The cutting down of many hundreds of trees for making the palisades for the fort had been used as an opportunity to astart part of the forest, the first step in turning it into grazing land or plough-land. An area of perhaps twenty acres had been cleared and added to Alan’s personal demesne. The back-breaking work of clearing the tree stumps and roots would begin in May and would be a job that would probably take several years.

  Later Alan rode through the sunny afternoon with an escort of four men to Ramsey both to visit his horse stud and to meet with Alric the thegn whose Hall was on the outskirts of the Tendring. Alan visited the stud first, knowing that a visit to Alric’s Hall would take many hours, as the thegn was an excellent host. The stud was located on grazing land about a mile from the village of Ramsey. There was a cluster of eight cottages, a barn and the stable with a large number of stalls formed into a “U” shape. Nearby was the fenced training-yard. The land was fenced into ten paddocks. Four of these contained mares, nearly all with foals at foot. Two contained yearlings and two contained stallions and mares of two years of age. Two much smaller paddocks each contained a single stallion. The grass had only just started to grow and each paddock had a pile of hay and a trough of oats, as well as a trough of water. The horses still had their winter coats of hair and looked quite rough.

  Alan was met by the stud-master Roweson, an elderly thickset white-haired cheorl who had been Kemp’s stud-master for ten years or so.

  “God Hael, Roweson!” said Alan as he swung his leg to dismount.

  “God Hael, Ealdor!” replied Roweson easily, despite only having met Alan on his one previous visit to the stud shortly after he assumed the manor. After a few moments two young lads ran up carrying pitchers of ale for the five visitors, which they quickly quaffed to settle the dust in their throats.

  “How goes the herd?” asked Alan, wiping beer froth from his upper lip.

  “Much the same as when I saw you last two months ago,” replied Roweson in his slow and deliberate speech. “Thirty-four breeding mares. We lost one during the winter. Twenty-nine foals, twelve colts and seventeen fillies. Thirty-two yearlings. eighteen mares and fourteen males- all now gelded as you instructed. Ten two-year olds, after you took those twenty horses several months back, all mares. And the two stallions of course.”

  “The mares will be coming on heat over the next month or so. Are any on heat at the moment?” asked Alan.

  “Six of them, down in that paddock there,” replied Roweson with a nod of his head.

  “You’ve been breeding rounceys, and doing an excellent job of it I must say. But as I said to you on my last visit, times are changing and we need horses for our men to fight mounted. Two of those mares down there, the larger ones, I want bred to Odin here. I’ll leave him here to enjoy himself for two weeks. Have him cover any of the other larger mares that come in heat in that time. When I was in London I arranged to buy a charger stallion, a good strong solid beast with a good temperament. He should be arriving in the next few days. Have him cover all the other mares, except the two year-olds which you can have one or both of the rouncey stallions cover.

  “I want bigger and stronger horses. I’ll have some of the woodland over there astarted so you can have more grazing. But I also need the horses not just broken to the saddle when I get them, but also trained for war. The English, of course, have never fought on horseback and I don’t expect you to know how to train them. I’ll arrange for a horse-trainer from Normandy to come and take responsibility for that. You’ll continue to be responsible for the breeding as always, but he’ll be responsible to train them for war. I want twenty warhorses, both chargers and destriers, and twenty rounceys a year. Do you have enough people to do that?”

  Roweson looked unhappy about having to share responsibility for the final product of the stud, but at the same time was intrigued by the challenges in the change in the breeding program and the increased output needed. “I have six assistants at the moment. Four men and two lads. I’d probably need another two men and four lads, or maybe a couple of lasses, to carry water and food.”

  “Let me know what you need and what extra provisions you require,” said Alan. “Now, if you will have one of your lads take off Odin’s tack and provide me with a rouncey, you can set Odin to work and I’ll go back to the manor.”

  A few minutes later Alan and his men rode up to the gate at Ramsey, to be greeted by the staff. Although evening was drawing in, the steward Durand was still out in the fields supervising the ploughing and spreading of manure, and his wife Aerlene invited them in. Aerlene soon had them seated by the fire with a mug of mead in hand and was chatting amiably when Durand hurried in, hot, sweaty and dirty from his day in the fields. After greeting his guests Durand retired briefly to clean himself and shift his clothes before returning to sit with Alan at the head-table.

  Because most of the men had been out for the day the cook had arranged the main meal for the evening. After the inevitable pottage, this time of beans in beef broth, the main course was brought out. Durand appeared to favour simpler foods than Alan and the meal consisted of boiled beef with boiled vegetables and a simple gravy, accompanied by copious amounts of mead and ale.

  Durand had a travelling storyteller staying at the Hall and after dinner the bard began to recite from memory the Seafarer, a first-person story of exile and solitude in which Christian and Pagan beliefs were contrasted, with the storyteller confiding his preference for a life of hardship on the sea rather than the security of the land. The storyteller was a master, having the audience enthralled with his cadence and changes of tone and volume, at times speaking so low that the audience strained to hear and at other times shouting aloud. The performance took nearly two hours and when the bard had finished, to thunderous applause, Durand presented him with a small purse. By then it was late and all the men were considerably affected by the alcohol they had consumed. Alan declined the offer of Durand’s own bed and insisted on sleeping on the rush-strewn floor together with Durand’s cheorls and servants.

  Next morning, feeling somewhat under the weather with a headache and bilious stomach, Alan mounted his horse for the ride back to Thorrington, arriving back at mid-morning. He first called at the village carpenter and instructed him to come to the Hall to measure Anne for crutches, which he did immediately and promised to have them ready and delivered the next morning. Anne was delighted at her pending improvement in mobility and the simple mid-day meal of pottage and mutton stew
that Otha had prepared passed without incident.

  Osmund arrived with Gimm at mid-afternoon and both men accompanied Alan to visit Toland, the village head-man. As he expected Toland to be out working on ploughing, Alan had sent a message that he would meet him at the tithe-barn and allowed him time to arrive before they walked the short distance down the dirt road between the village houses.

  “God Hael!” called Toland as Alan and the others approached. Alan introduced the two newcomers and instructed Toland that he would need two cottages and an armourer’s workshop built, the latter to be next to the blacksmith’s workshop. Sites were chosen, paced out and marked with sticks. Toland attempted to get the work deferred until after ploughing. Alan agreed that he would give the villagers two weeks to complete the work, but that it had to commence next day. A rather disgruntled cheorl walked back angrily towards the other workers in the fields.

  As they walked back to the Hall Alan asked Grimm whether he had a list of tools and items he required. Grimm replied that he had some tools and had dictated a list to Osmund for the remainder. Some of the tools could be shared with Aethelhard the blacksmith, as could the blacksmith’s apprentice.

  Back at the Hall Anne greeted Osmund with delight and wanted to sit down and chat with him, but Alan brusquely over-ruled that, arranging an immediate meeting with Kendrick in the Solar. While waiting Alan filled Osmund in on Anne’s findings from the books of account. Anne had marked the relevant pages with slips of parchment and Osmund found it easy enough to identify the suspect entries.

  When Kendrick arrived after a few minutes he entered to find Alan and Osmund sitting at the table with the piles of parchment in front of them. He entered the room happy enough, but frowned as soon as he saw the paperwork on the desk, realizing that he may be in trouble.

  “Kendrick, this is Osmund, who is my new clerk. He’ll be keeping the records for the Hundred Courts,” Kendrick brightened perceptibly. “And he’ll also oversee the manor accounts.” Darkness fell again on Kendrick’s face. “As you know the manor accounts have not been properly kept in the past.” Alan raised a hand to still Kendrick’s reply. “I know that’s not your fault, as you cannot write or figure, but rather the fault of Estan and myself in not giving you the support you needed. Now, Osmund here will accompany you on your rounds and record all the dealings properly, so we can make sure that everybody pays what they should pay and renders the services that they should. In large part his work will be to record what has only been verbal agreements to date. This timing is most opportune as the rents are due on Annunciation Day in two weeks, so Osmund will be able to start helping you immediately. I want you to spend each morning until Annunciation Day, except next Monday when we have the Hundred court, going through the books and explaining what tenants have what obligations and answering any questions he may have. Now, I’m sure you are busy at this time of the year, so we won’t delay you any longer.”

  Osmund’s face had been growing redder and redder during the short conversation and when Kendrick had slunk out of the Solar and the door closed he gave into his hard-controlled mirth, still keeping his comments quiet because of the thin walls. “God’s breath! That was masterful!” he wheezed, strangling off a full-bodied laugh. “He didn’t know whether to piss himself or shit! We’ll see what happens in the next day or so.”

  “What do you expect?” asked Alan with interest.

  “A visit tonight or tomorrow to discuss financial arrangements, but we’ll see,” replied the worldly Osmund.

  Next morning Osmund sat with Alan and Anne at the breakfast table, eating bread, cheese and smoked herring while supping a cup of mead. Edyth was still abed, as the hour was early. “I was correct,” he said in Latin, to keep the conversation private from the servants around them. “I was invited to his cottage and met his wife Sunniva.”

  “He’s not married,” interjected Anne.

  “Well, that’s another person who can be charged with unlawful co-habitation in the Hundred court on Monday then!” continued Osmund with a sly look and a smile at his master, who they all knew was just as guilty as Kendrick in that regard. “We drank a couple of jugs of very nice French wine, no doubt from your cellar, and he made me an offer. I get one third, he gets two thirds.”

  “What did you say?” asked Anne with indignation.

  “I accepted, of course,” replied Osmund. In response to Anne’s incredulous look he continued, “How else can I find out the true amount that he’s stealing- and even more importantly the true obligations that each freeman has on my lord’s lands? Don’t worry, I’ll include it in the accounts as ‘gratuities received’ and it can be deducted from my pay, although I suspect the gratuities will far exceed what Sir Alan has generously offered me.” Osmund sighed. “It’s a pity I’m honest. I could have made a fortune here in a couple of years, just like Kendrick has.”

  As Osmund finished his meal and, with a bow to his lord, took his leave, Alan commented to Anne, “Thank you for the recommendation. It looks as if I’m a long way towards rectifying that problem.” He paused and then continued, “Talking about problems, you probably have one that you don’t recognise yourself. When Aelfric took the lands you now hold, did he rent in laen for one lifetime, or three? His, his wife’s and his heirs? I understand that he was single at the time and it is most probable that he paid rent for his own lifetime. If so, you have a problem. I’d strongly urge you to find and read the land charter when you get home.”

  “Why would that be a problem? Surely they’d not turn a widow out of her lands when she still pays her taxes each Quarter Day?” asked Anne in perplexity.

  Alan laughed. “You don’t know anything about landlords, Norman or English,” he rejoined. “If it was rented for his lifetime, you have nothing and the land will be escheated at any time. Geoffrey de Mandeville was made overlord of most of Essex, including your lands. Even if it was still in the hands of Harold Godwinson you would still be ejected, leaving only with your dower. That’s what the English law says, not the Norman. Geoffrey de Mandeville has many knights and others for whom he must provide lands. He’ll be after every opportunity to seize lands to give to his retainers. Even if it was rented for three lives, as there is no heir, you can expect to be forced to marry a man of Sir Geoffrey’s choice, a man he has some obligation towards, with no say yourself. The same thing happened in Cnut’s day. The widows of those his army slew were forced to marry his retainers. One can look to the past to see the future. I suggest you find yourself a husband as soon as possible, or start sewing a nun’s habit. To make matters worse for you, not only are you a woman, you’re English and your husband died in the fighting last year. All English are required to pay a Heriot to retain their lands. Even the church has to pay to be confirmed in its very substantial holdings. Most importantly, the land of those who died fighting against King William is forfeit. While your husband died fighting at Stamford Bridge, I’d doubt that those who administer the forfeiture will make much distinction about the lands of those who fell at Fulford Gate, Stamford Bridge or at Hastings. William wants land to give to his friends as reward for past services, such as me.”

  Anne looked appalled. “That is incredible!” she said. “It must be illegal”.

  Alan shook his head with seriousness. “Not illegal. Apart from perhaps the forfeiture, it’s entirely according to the ancient laws of England- and the same would happen in Normandy. As to the forfeiture, William dates his reign from the day King Edward died and sees any who fought against him as being traitors who are liable to forfeiture of their land. Those who lived are being allowed to buy their land back. Few of the widows and heirs of those who died are being given that choice. Illegal, no. Immoral, yes. Men in positions of power are rarely concerned with morality, particularly if they have a financial interest in the result. Ask Osmund for his opinion and have a look at the law books in the Solar.”

  “This is impossible! How am I supposed to summon a suitor out of the air?” demanded Anne.


  “You are a very eligible widow. Young, beautiful and with wealthy lands. Your only defect, from most men’s point of view, is your high intellect! They want ornaments, not partners. Matilda, William’s wife, is the daughter of the Count of Flanders, brought him a huge dowry and a strong political ally. By all reports she’s a very intelligent woman, but she has played little formal part in Normandy’s affairs until the last few months, when William has been busy in England. As to suitors, I would like to be the first in line for consideration, but you may have many other paramours in the background.”

  Anne gave him a close look, part suspicious and part speculative. “I’ll speak to Osmund and look at my land charter. If it was for three lifetimes, nobody can force me marry! And as for you, with the events of the last few months I’m hardly likely to choose to marry a Norman!”

  “I admire your spirit, but believe me you can and will be forced to marry whether you wish or not,” said Alan. “Still, if the time comes, please give me some consideration. Now, to change the topic, your crutches should be arriving any time. Would you like to come and see my fort?” he asked with obvious enthusiasm. Anne agreed with a ready smile.