Thorrington and York February 1069
Alan sat at a table on the slightly raised dais at the head of the Old Hall at Thorrington, the residence of the former thegn now used as a meeting-place since Alan had built his new residence nearby. With him sat Algar of Alresford and Leofstan of Great Holland, both wealthy and respected local thegns. At tables placed close by sat most of the local thegns, village headmen and the influential cheorls, numbering in all close on fifty men. Noticeable by their absence were the Normans appointed as lords of some of the local villages. They had not been invited, although a few of their cheorls had been.
It was Wednesday February 11th 1069, nine days after Candalmas had been celebrated. The weather outside was chilly and overcast with a steady drizzle. Despite the roaring fire in the Hall the men were cold and wore their cloaks wrapped tightly about them. Quart mugs of mulled ale had been handed out as the guests had arrived and two serving-wenches were circulating, holding two mugs in each hand and offering replacements to those whose mugs had been emptied.
“Hlaford!” said Alan in Anglo-Saxon English in a clear and carrying voice, cutting through the low buzz of conversation and calling the meeting to order. “Gentlemen! Welcome and thank you for attending today. Now that the Festive Season is out of the way, hopefully we’ll all have more time for our duties!” Alan was using his ‘public speaking’ voice- well projected, without shouting, slow and clear with brief pauses every dozen words or so to allow the listeners’ ears and brains to catch up with his words. “I’m sure that we all know what happened some two weeks ago at Durham. King William, before he left to Winter in Normandy, appointed Robert de Commines to the earldom of Bamburgh, which was abandoned by Cospatric when he fled after the revolt at Exeter.
“De Commines arrived north of the Tyne last month with a substantial force of men, some 600 strong. Two weeks ago the Northumbrians broke into the city of Durham, killed all the Normans they could find, laid siege to the bishop’s house where de Commines was lodging. Unable to take it by storm they set it on fire. De Commines fled to the church and, like Copsi before him, was killed as he tried to escape the fire when the rebels burnt down the church. The Northumbrians seem to have this penchant for burning down houses and killing earls, but burning churches where men have sought sanctuary is something every Christian would deplore!” Alan paused and took a sip of ale. “While that is politically important enough, of greater importance is that the Northumbrians have not attempted to negotiate their concerns with King William, as others have in the last year or so- without much success I may say. They have elected Edgar the Aetheling as king. I hear that they are marching south to York.”
All present had heard the news, which had arrived and struck like a thunderbolt several days before. Silence continued during a further pause by Alan. “Although I’m a Norman, I’m a man of this Hundred and I believe I understand the wishes of the English geburs, and particularly the thegns and cheorls. The Aetheling is the last of the line of Alfred the Great. The English wish to have an English king. They wish the influence of foreigners to cease and for the foreigners to leave.” Alan paused again and looked closely at the faces before him. “I can understand that, although obviously most would say that I’m biased and have my own interests to protect, being one of those foreigners. I hope that my actions over the two years that I’ve been amongst you show that I have genuine concern for the people in this Hundred, and indeed all the English. I’ve done what I can to assist those affected by the excesses of those recently empowered, and protected the people of this Hundred from invasion.
“Have no doubt that King William will return from Normandy within days, if he has not landed already. He will go north like an Act of God. He is the best general in Christendom. He’s been leading armies, and winning, for twenty years. He defeated the best general England has probably ever had, even when Harold chose the most advantageous battlefield possible. At the moment the revolt is composed of the Northumbrians. Cospatric, Arnkell, the four sons of Karli and Maerle-Sveinn from Somerset, who fled north after Exeter. Even if earls Edwin and Morcar join them, which they have not done so far, the rebels will not have a leader or an army to match that of King William. Edwin and Morcar and the combined armies of the north were unable to even defeat the Norwegians- Harold had to do that.
“I’ve heard of a call to arms for Englishmen to march north to join the revolt. I’d suggest to you that you consider carefully what you have to gain and what you have to lose if you were to do so. You are not my men and I have no claim to give you instructions. My own men will be moving north- in support of the properly anointed king, King William. But I would urge you all to think long and hard before you act. This revolt will not succeed. Those who participate, if they survive, will lose all. King William is a man who rewards loyalty and punishes disloyalty. My recommendation is, if you do not feel able to support King William, that your interests would be best served by ‘sitting on the fence’ and taking no action. That way you lose nothing. Now I will leave you with Algar and Leofstan. A mid-day meal will be provided and I hope that you all make your own decisions that are best for each of you. May God assist you with your deliberations.”
That evening Alan and Anne sat at table with Leofstan. “What was the outcome of the discussions?” asked Alan.
Leofstan shrugged. “As you would expect. A lot of talk and hot air. A lot of patriotic waffle. Your point about the probable outcome of the revolt was well made and has caused many to pause for thought. I expect that in most cases the result of that thought will be to do nothing, as you suggested. Some few will march north and take their chances, but others will look at what they have and seek to retain that. The hand of the Norman invader has not fallen heavily on this Hundred, unlike others- you have seen to that. But men do want an English king and the Northumbrians have now elected Edgar the Aetheling, for good or bad. That will appeal to many whose hearts rule their heads- particularly those who don’t hold land that they may forfeit and so have little to lose but their lives. Englishmen, whether from the north or south, don’t like having a foreign king. They object to the favouritism shown to Normans and French, and to their arrogance. What the final outcome will be, we shall see. I’ll be staying at home and keep my sword in its scabbard.”
Two weeks later, on Thursday 26th February, Alan sat in the second row of chairs in the packed Great Hall at Westminster Palace. Around him sat the great nobles of the land, and standing in the back half of the Hall were the petty lords and their men. Some Englishmen sat amongst the nobles, including Earl Waltheof. Notable by their absence, although apparently invited, were Earl Morcar and Earl Edwin.
As King William rose from his seat, stern-faced and serious, the hubbub in the Hall quickly hushed. “My lords! Mesires!” he began. “Thank you for your attendance at this meeting of the Curia. The meeting is being held open due to the importance of our discussions. You are aware of the events of last month. The murder of the newly-appointed earl of Northumbria beyond the Tyne and the massacre of his men. In two years I’ve lost three earls of those lands! Two by murder by the family of Bamburgh, and Earl Cospatric of that family who fled in craven revolt after being named as earl of Bernicia.
“My patience with the people of Northumbria, and in particular the family of Bamburgh, is at an end. Robert fitzRichard held the castle at York and reported a large force of Northumbrians moving south and disaffection amongst the local Anglo-Danes. Yesterday I received dispatch from William Mallet, the sheriff of Yorkshire, that fitzRichard and most of his men were caught in ambush outside the castle and have been foully slaughtered. Mallet has requested assistance. He is confined in the castle and Edgar the Aetheling and the Northumbrian lords have been welcomed into the city by the people and nobles of York. My patience with the people of Yorkshire is also at an end. In four day’s time my army musters at Peterborough in Cambridgeshire. I expect you to have every man you can raise there ready to march north on that day.”
“What of Morcar and Edwin?” called a voice from the middle of the Hall.
“They are not here and have not answered my summons,” replied the king. “My planning is predicated on the predication that they oppose me. Now, I’m sure you all have much to do to prepare for war. I’ll see you all in four day’s time at Peterborough!”
With that William closed the session and stalked from the room.
Late in the evening three days later, on the first day of spring 1069, just after the monastery bell had rung for the late evening service of Vespers, Alan was sitting near the fire at an inn at Peterborough, tired, hungry, thirsty and with a sore back and legs. Darkness had just fallen outside and despite it being the first day of spring a cold and gusty wind was rattling the shutters on the windows. As he rubbed a hand tiredly over his eyes he reflected that he seemed to have been in perpetual motion for those three days. First a hard ride from London to Thorrington. A day of frantic activity at Thorrington as he finalised the muster of his men, then the marathon journey of 92 miles from Thorrington to Peterborough that day.
Anne had been left safely at the house at London with six guards, Osmund the scribe, her maids Udelle and Esme and of course baby Juliana. Alan was sure that Anne would take the opportunity to ready her trading empire for the resumption of activity with the presumably pending improvement in weather and would be meeting with her business manager Jacob the Jew. Anne loved the bustle, the shopping and social opportunities offered in London and always enjoyed her time in the city.
The day at Thorrington had been frenetic. Alan was glad he had anticipated events and that before he had departed from the manor to attend the meeting in London he had ordered equipment, supplies, horses and men to be ready at short notice. Weapons and stores had been ready packed and the horses re-shod, tack checked and oiled, leather tents aired, checked for mould and re-oiled.
Alan had ridden with 30 horsemen, a dozen archers and 6 grooms including Leof, all mounted, and 10 pack-horses carrying equipment and supplies. Alan had ridden his destrier warhorse Odin, who had displayed his usual bad temper and misbehavior. The horsemen were led by Hugh, Ainulf and Edric, the archers by the Welshman Owain and the Englishman Aethelbald. He had not followed King William’s instruction to bring every man he had. His feudal obligations were 6 men and he’d brought 42. The others, led by huscarle Brand and the Norman archer Roger, more than equal to that in number but mainly infantry and archers, had been left behind to protect the lands of Tendring Hundred against potential attack. Ship-borne attack by the Danes was an ever-present risk, and Alan also had little trust in some of his neighbours.
The longbowmen were Alan’s ‘secret weapon’ and they had been instructed to keep their bows out of sight in leather bags and not to practice at the butts. The horsemen were riding as light cavalry without lances, although these could be easily be cut if required.
His men were currently struggling with the wind and darkness to erect their ten-man leather tents on the common outside the city, where approximately 2,000 men were encamped. Alan had bought food for the men and horses, rather than having the aggravation of trying to obtain supplies from the army victualler late in the day and had arranged with a taverner for an 18 gallon kilderkin of ale to be collected by the men.
After downing two quarts of ale, and just as a bowl of mutton stew was placed in front of him giving off a delicious rich aroma, a messenger arrived to advise that Alan was required immediately at the abbey, where the king had taken quarters. Alan sighed, looked at his food and reaching a decision waved the flunkey to a chair while calling for the pot-boy to bring the man a quart of ale. “You had some trouble finding me,” instructed Alan as he wolfed his food down as quickly as he could.
Some ten minutes later they were striding through the town. It was fully dark but the messenger carried a flaming torch raised high so that they could see their path as they walked through the muddy streets, carefully avoiding the piles of rotting refuse. Most of the town was built on low-lying and marshy land next to the River Nene to the east of the stone-built abbey and they walked up a rise to the dryer limestone ground on which the abbey had been constructed. Despite the lateness of the hour the streets of the town were quite active, mainly with soldiers from the king’s army. Several patrols of foot-soldiers, a dozen strong, were making the rounds to ensure that nothing untoward took place.
Once inside the abbey Alan was directed to the abbot’s office, where the king and his cousin William fitzOsbern were sitting on a bench at a table near a roaring fire, papers spread in front of them. Noticing Alan’s travel-stained appearance the king waved Alan to sit at a bench opposite and to help himself to a cup of wine from the jug on the table. Alan did as he was bid and flexed his shoulders and back to relieve some of the stiffness.
“A long day in the saddle?” enquired fitzOsbern.
“No more than most. The distance from Colchester to here is much of a muchness at that from London to here. I’m just getting old,” said the man who would shortly be twenty-one, with a small smile.
“How many men?” asked the king briskly.
“Thirty- light horsemen. Pack-horses for the equipment,” replied Alan, deliberately failing to mention his archers. Anticipating the next question he added, “Mainly English, with Norman officers.”
The king pulled a wry face. “The English make poor cavalry in my experience.”
Alan bridled slightly at the implied criticism. “They’re properly trained and properly led. They’ll give a good account of themselves, as they did in Wales with Earl William here last year. They fought, and died, well enough then.”
FitzOsbern nodded his agreement. “True enough. Thorrington has good men, and well-led.” After a brief pause he continued, “Thirty men is a good number. You must have virtually emptied out your estates of every able-bodied man. I command the vanguard, and because of your success last year I want you and your men as scouts. We march at first light and will progress fifty miles to Lincoln. The next day from Lincoln to just short of York, seventy miles. The following day we retake the city.”
“For a large army, that’s traveling fast,” said Alan with a thoughtful frown. “In Wales we moved short distances very fast, but only after very careful scouting. We can’t move seventy miles in a day and have my men beat every bush and tree to see if it contains a man with a bow. What’s the lay of the land?”
“It’s poor for scouting,” replied fitzOsbern briefly. “It’s also poor for ambushes. Flat land with very few hills. Lots of marshes. The Ermine Street, the Old Roman North Road, skirts just to the west of the Fens. There’s a fair amount of light woodland and some thicker forests. The eastern part of Sherwood Forest comes up to the road. There’s just the one river crossing between here and Lincoln. No towns and only a handful of villages. Your task is twofold. To prevent a large ambush or unexpected attack on our forces when they are strung out along the road, but more particularly to prevent their scouts and spies reporting back where we are and what we’re doing. We want to hit York by surprise early on Wednesday.”
“Keeping the approach of 2,000 men hidden will not be easy,” commented Alan.
“At least 3,000 men,” interjected the king. “Probably closer to 4,000. The men from the south-west and midlands will be marching up the Fosse Way and meeting us at Lincoln. I’m leaving a strong force on the Welsh border so they don’t try to take advantage of me being distracted. Other than that, I’m determined to make a show of force.”
“Lincolnshire and the fens are the haunts of Hereward ‘the Wake’,” reminded Alan.
The king shrugged. “He has a few hundred men and could make some trouble, mainly by delaying us. He’s unlikely to be your worry. You’ll be scouting ahead. The flanks will be covered by others. Even 2,000 men take up a lot of road and I’m well aware that an army that strung out and with no room for maneuver is at risk. That’s why I want to move fast.”
Alan tilted his head and pulled a wry face, his body-language showing he didn’t agree but it wasn’t his problem. “I’d best go and pass the good news to my men that they have to rise two hours before everybody else, and get a good night of sleep,” he said, draining his cup and rising to his feet.
Between Peterborough and Lincoln were a handful of villages. Glinton, Market Deeping, Langtoft and Baston; the crossing of the Glen River; Bourne; Falkingham and, just south of Lincoln, Bracebridge Heath. Alan’s men soon developed a rhythm. Ten men would ride on the road itself some two miles ahead of the vanguard of the army. Wherever possible two squads each of ten men would push through the countryside half a mile from the road. Usually this was not possible on the eastern flank as the fens and marshes came close to the road, forcing the scouts closer to the road. On the western flank it was difficult to move cross-country even on horseback as quickly as the army marching on the well-made road. At each village the flanking squads would swing around to the north of the village, two squads entering the village from the north as the squad riding the road entered from the south. The remaining men would observe from cover to the north to ensure that no riders or messengers hurried north. The squads in the village would hand over to the army’s vanguard and then hurry north to take their position again.
At the bridge over the Glen River near Bourne two squads pushed past to cover the village from the north, while the others held the bridge until the vanguard arrived, before again leap-frogging ahead. No difficulties or incidents were experienced that day, and Alan had not expected any as they were moving through ostensibly friendly country. The next day he expected to be somewhat different.
Approaching Lincoln from the south Alan led a single squad to the wooden bridge over the River Witham to ensure that the large party of guards which could be seen about the bridge and the gate were in fact loyal to the sheriff. Lincoln is unusual in that it is built in a gap in the Lincoln Cliff. A limestone escarpment up 200 feet high, although less than that in the city, split the city into the Uphill and Downhill. The wooden motte and bailey castle built the previous year (unusual in having two mottes) and the foundations being laid for the stone cathedral dominated the landscape on the Uphill, rather than being centrally located or near the river. Alan and his men rode up the appropriately-named Steep Hill Road, the horses finding some difficulty in obtaining footing on the muddy surface. Despite its location in an inhospitable countryside comprised mainly of swamps and salt water marshes, the city was obviously large, bustling and prosperous, with a population of about 5,000- principally because of the navigability of the river allowing easy access to the sea and the proximity of the Trent Valley.
It was early afternoon when Alan and his men arrived at the castle, confirmed with the castellan that the army was expected and ate a hurried hot meal of pottage, mutton stew and bread. They then secured food supplies for several days from the victualler before the arrival of the army stripped the city bare of food and drink. They passed out through North Gate just as the vanguard of the army was approaching the city from the south.
They chose a location to camp about two miles north of the city and a quarter of a mile west of the road, hidden by a copse of trees. Despite the cold blustery wind the men soon had the tents erected, Alan instructing that only three be used. North of Lincoln the lie of the land showed some variation for the first time since leaving Peterborough. Between the valley of the Trent to the west and the low chalk hills of the Lincoln Wolds to the east, the land undulated and had patches of small trees and bushes instead of the almost flat and bare appearance of the land further south.
Alan instructed two of his four twelve-man squads to get what rest they could, posted four men as guards on the camp and divided the other two squads to produce four patrols each of two archers, four horsemen and one groom- the latter to act as a horse-holder. Alan placed the men so as to form a net, which included the camp and its guards, half a mile wide. Each group of men were carefully hidden and with their horses close at hand. Two groups covered the road itself, on opposite sides and with the second group being about 500 paces north of the first. Their instructions were to observe any person traveling south to the city, but to intercept and if necessary kill any person leaving the city and heading north towards York. Their task was made easier by the fact that the Roman Road ran due north as straight as an arrow, and the paucity of villages and farmhouses made it unlikely that any local farmers would be straggling home after a day in the city.
Shortly after four in the afternoon, about the time that Alan anticipated the main body of the king’s army would be marching into sight of the city, his men began to earn their pay for the day. In a period of about three-quarters of an hour four separate riders could be seen urging their horses north along the road. Three chose to ignore the call to halt and were shot out of their saddles by the archers, two having successfully avoided the first patrol and being shot down without further warning by the second. The remaining man was taken back to Lincoln with a two-man escort, for his guilt or innocence as a spy to be determined.
One man traveling south towards Lincoln was followed and later detained at North Gate because of his suspicious behaviour, not least his traveling alone.
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. Instantly! 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.