Thorrington July 1069
It was with a very strong sense of deja vu that Alan sat at the high-table in the Hall. Just after midnight on Friday 24th July, the eve of the Feast of St James the Apostle, he had been roused by a messenger from the lookout at the mouth of Barfleet Creek and informed that a number of longships had approached the village of Brightlingsea in the moonlight several hours before. ‘At least ten ships’ probably meant that the lookout hadn’t bothered to take off his boots to be able to more accurately count the raiders. As well as nearly sixteen hours of sunlight each day, there was a full moon and calm weather- excellent raiding conditions.
Riders had been dispatched along the roads to the west, north-west, north, north-east and east. The glow of fires against the night sky from Brightlingsea showed there was no need to send a rider in that direction. Alan hoped that Edsel, the King’s Reeve of Brightlingsea, was still alive and had learnt the lesson of his refusal to participate in the collective defense efforts undertaken by the others in the Hundred. Alan tried his best to snatch moments of sleep as messengers hurried to and fro, Huscarle Brand dealing with most of the minor matters. He heard reports of fires to the south-east, almost certainly the village of St Osyth. Anne. The servants of the Hall were kept busy providing food, drink and straw palliasses to the arriving messengers.
First light was due at about four in the morning. By three in the morning over 400 men were gathered at Thorrington, having come as far as fifteen miles from Dovercourt and Cliff to the north and Frinton in the east. Not only the men of Alan’s own manors had mustered, but also those of the other thegns including Engelric’s man Leax, the thegn of Birch Hall to the north-east. Leofstan mentioned that he had ridden through Great Clacton on the way and that the inhabitants were hurriedly organising defences, not unreasonable since they were the next village to the east after St Osyth.
Mounted scouts had been dispatched and reported back that there were seventeen longships in Barfleet Creek near Brightlingsea, less than two miles from Thorrington. Alresford and Wivenhoe to the west reported no ships in sight. This was a favourable report, but given that the longships could move so quickly and loom unheralded out of the sea-haze, not necessarily to be relied on. Seventeen ships meant probably nigh on 800 hundred men. Alan was certain that once again their main target would be Colchester, which meant that the Danes had to pass Wivenhoe. The village was now much more strongly held than two years previously, as it belonged to Anne and both time and money had been lavished on fortifications and equipment since the last raid. The men of Wivenhoe and Alresford had been instructed to remain with their villages but to adopt defensive positions, armed and ready as required.
At first light Alan rode out on a rouncey together with half a dozen scouts towards Barfleet Creek. The creek was a shallow tidal inlet that wandered north and west from the sea and whose headwaters were a mile south-east of Thorrington. The land was flat, low-lying and, until close to the village, soft and marshy despite the recent lack of rain. The Danish longships were drawn up on the west bank of the creek just north of the village of Brightlingsea. A quick count confirmed they were in fact seventeen in number. A haze of smoke hung over the village and a number of charred ruins could be seen, including several outlying farmhouses. Alan’s manor of Great Bentley was on the east side of the creek and appeared deserted, in accordance with his instructions. The stables of the horse stud lay empty, the horses being led to safety inland. Also empty were the byres and pig-pens, with the cattle and swine also having been driven away. The people were either with their livestock in woods several miles north or at the apparent safety of Thorrington. Alan hoped that the Danes would be satisfied to loot what they could from the empty village and not put it to the torch.
Several Danish scouts could be seen moving through the area on horseback, presumably on steeds seized at Brightlingsea that night. A large number of men were clustered around cooking fires on the shore near the ships or moving through the village. Alan presumed that he could only see a small part of the Danish force and that many others would be resting in the village or on the ships after their exertions in the night attack.
Alan had expected and hoped that the Danes would board their ships and move on to Colchester, just a few miles up the estuary. However, from the relaxed atmosphere of the camp in front of him, it appeared that a move to attack the city was not an immediate concern for the invaders- which meant that Thorrington could expect a visit later that day.
The villages were some two miles apart, the road running virtually north-south along a narrow patch of relatively firm ground between the salt-marshes at the head of the Alresford Creek to the west and Barfleet Creek to the east. There was another route along the west bank of Barfleet Creek, but given the swampy nature of the ground no commander would use that when a suitable alternative was available.
Alan discounted the possibility of the Danes boarding their ships to travel the mile or so to the head of Barfleet Creek. The effort involved, the need to wait for the flood tide which would not be until evening and the requirement to disembark across a mudflat while under attack by archers would not appeal to any leader. At a point a little less than a mile south of the village of Thorrington the road that the Danes would take skirted a marsh to the east of Alresford Creek. At that point was a large stand of trees and tangled undergrowth that continued east through to the salt-marsh that ran on the west side of Barfleet Creek, and which left a clear area near the road only 150 paces or so wide. It was at this natural choke-point that Alan intended his men to make a stand.
Without further delay he dispatched 100 men to hold the chosen battlefield and archers and horsemen to drive away the Danish scouts so that preparations could be made without observation by prying eyes. He also ordered to sea his own two longships, currently in Alresford Creek just to the west of Thorrington, so as not to be detected and with instructions to maintain contact and await further orders. The ships had been stripped of their archers and half of their oarsmen as the extra sixty trained men may make all the difference in the battle that would be decided on land. Alan was by no means sanguine as to the outcome, knowing he was on the wrong side of two to one numbers, and he was troubled by the fact that his wife and child would be in his house no more than a mile from his back.
Thorrington was in uproar. The village green was filled with groups of armed men sitting quietly, some in armour and some without. The villagers hurried about dispensing a substantial breakfast from supplies provided by Alan with little regard for the fact that it was Friday. True, part of the meal was salted or smoked fish, but that was coincidental and reflected what was kept in barrels in the storeroom against such need. But there was also cheese, fresh bread and butter for the men and ham and eggs for the officers. Erian, the plump and stocky taverner, was dispensing at Alan’s instructions one quart of ale- and only one- per man. Gimm the armourer and Aethelhard the blacksmith were busy performing last minute repairs in their adjoining workshops, the whoosh of bellows and the ring of hammer on steel being clearly heard.
By mid-morning Alan was surprised at the turnout. Other than the manors in the far north-west and those to the east in the path of the Danes, virtually every able-bodied man in the Hundred had mustered. The thegns had led the men of their manors and villages, most arriving on foot after a march of several hours. All of the men of Alan’s own manors were there, some 200 men all properly armed and equipped and all properly trained, led by their thegns and head-cheorls. The men of Queen Edith’s lands at Wix were led by her thegn Adamnan. Also present were Godwin of Weeley, Alstan of Dickley, Harold of Frinton, Frewin, Ednoth and Alfward from Tendring, Leax of Birch Hall, Leofstan of Great and Little Holland, Withgar from Little Bentley, Alwin of Little Bromley, Brictmer of Great Bromley, Ketel of Frating, Ednoth of Little Oakley, Alric of Michaelstow, Leofson of Moze- even Alfhelm of Jacques Hall on the far north coast of the Hundred and Robert fitzWymarc’s man Gerard of Cholet from Elmstead.
Absent were Edward and Albyn of Bruges from St Osyth, Normans Roger de Montivilliers and Geoffrey of Rouen from Clacton and any representatives of the substantial lands held by the Church at The Naze and Wrabness. Also absent was Brctsi of Foulton who had ridden north to join the rebels. Engelric’s men from Frowick Hall were also not present, but their absence and that of the men from St Osyth was explained by the columns of smoke rising to the south-east. It was unlikely that most of those men would ever muster again.
Just after dawn Alan had sent for the men from Alresford, to be led by Algar, Edwin and Edwold. Excluding Alan’s own men, in all 21 thegns and knights would be present for the battle, with over 400 men. Alan found the response pleasing, given that he had no authority to call any muster- only the sheriff could formally issue a call to the fyrd. That virtually every thegn in the Hundred had responded positively was satisfying and made possible an attempt to resist the invaders.
From his own seven manors, excluding Wivenhoe whose men had been told to remain to protect their own village as they were on the direct path that any raiding force to Colchester must take, Alan himself mustered 207 fyrdmen. Of these 50, including some removed from the ships, were longbowmen, the rest split fairly evenly between swordsmen and spearmen. All Alan’s fyrdmen were reasonably well-trained despite their part-time status and he was sure they would give a good account of themselves. Many of the men from the other manors, in particular the sons of the ruling thegns, were also well-trained as Alan had been more than happy to provide training to the sergeants and section-leaders of the thegns in the Hundred, in anticipation of just this eventuality.
Alan also had 50 full-time infantry, 20 being professional huscarles, and 30 cavalrymen. A number of the sons of the local thegns had been through Alan’s cavalry training school and knew that horses were more than just a means of transport to the battlefield. Including the small detachment brought by Gerard de Cholet from Elmstead Alan expected to have 50 reasonably competent horsemen. He thought that these, together with the longbowmen and the proper use of the battlefield itself, should tip the balance in his favour.
Unusually, the muster of the fyrdmen of the Hundred provided men who almost without exception were properly equipped for battle, instead of the more usual peasantry carrying hay-forks and sickles. This was because Alan’s distribution of the booty from the attack by the Danes on Wivenhoe two years previously had provided a wealth of swords, armour and helmets- as well as the trading contents of the ships seized by Alan which formed the basis of the current wealth enjoyed by himself and Anne.
Alan set the villagers to work digging pits in front of the defensive position which would be occupied by his men, each pit eight feet deep and with short sharpened stakes driven into the mud which quickly accumulated at the bottom of each pit. The land was flat and the enemy had clear sight of the preparations. With no surprise to be achieved Alan didn’t order the pits camouflaged. The fact that the enemy could see and know about the pits did not mean that they would not be effective. Their main function was to channel the movement of the Danes when they attacked.
It took the Danish leader some time to retrieve the men he had dispatched to St Osyth and get the remainder of his men ready to meet the challenge to their north. He appeared to be in no hurry and the Danes ate a leisurely lunch before starting to form up.
Without a hill or rise to use to mask his intentions, Alan placed his men fifty paces behind the last of the defensive pits. As Danes traditionally fought only as heavy infantry, with no archers or cavalry, this made planning relatively easy- although it necessarily didn’t make any battle easy as the Danes were excellent fighters in their traditional Northern-European manner. The English had over 200 men placed in six groups, with a small gap between each group. Each group was three ranks deep, swordsmen at the front and spearmen in the second rank, with two groups for each of the three exits from the pattern of defensive ditches. Ten archers were placed on the right, or western, flank. The flat nature of the battlefield would make vision and shooting difficult for the archers, but they were stationed just to the west of the defensive line, standing knee-deep in the mud of the marsh, giving them a clear shot almost until the lines engaged. Another 10 archers were positioned in view on the left flank, next to the tree line. Twenty more were hidden in the trees on the eastern flank, along with 30 of Alan’s swordsmen to provide them with close protection, positioned out of sight 75 paces ahead of the English line.
An area had been cleared of trees inside the tree line, 50 paces ahead of the main line of resistance and just behind the archers, 20 paces inside the trees and 40 wide by 10 paces deep, with the undergrowth between the clearing and the battlefield being cleared. Here stood the 50 strong cavalry, out of sight and divided into two groups, each man carrying a short lance.
A reserve of 100 men, half carrying Alan’s green shields, stood to the rear of the main body of troops, together with ten archers.
Alan had never recovered from his distress at the effects of his use of Wildfire at Wivenhoe two years before when he had taken information contained in ancient texts and the chemistry experiments of a student friend from his youth to produce a self-igniting incendiary mixture. Containers of incendiary material, each holding about one gallon had proven totally devastating at that battle. The mixture burned fiercely, adhering to any surface and could not be put out with water. He has seen a dozen or more men immolated with every shot, screaming as they beat at the flames, rolled on the ground or threw themselves in pits of water to try unsuccessfully to douse the flames. This vision, and dealing with the wounded to whom a small splash of Wildfire had meant the loss of a limb and a single drop meant a hole the size of a silver penny burnt clear through the body, had resulted in a resolution not to use the fearsome weapon again if it could be avoided. However, he had four onagers set up in the fortified bailey at Thorrington and charcoal braziers on hand if the Danes broke through and threatened his family and his village. He now viewed this as a weapon of last resort- but one which would be used if required.
As the Danes took their time readying themselves, Alan’s men lounged about in their positions, eating a cold meal of dried beef jerky, bread and cheese washed down with water from the small skin that each man carried as part of his equipment.
Eventually, at about two in the afternoon, the Danes approached. Alan estimated their numbers at about 800, with probably about another 50 holding the ships and village. Alan turned and spoke to his servant Leof, who leaped onto a horse and with two guards galloped away with instructions to be given to Alan’s ships standing off the coast to the west.
The small Danish army slowly moved en masse and on foot, with no apparent formation, towards the large band of Englishmen. The Englishmen rose and took their places in line, chatting to each other and making encouraging comments to bolster themselves and their compatriots. Shoulders were slapped and arms grasped. Wagers were made between men as to who would kill the most Danes, while the men tried to ignore the empty feeling of fear in their stomachs.
The Danes paused close to the first line of defensive pits, about 150 paces from the English line. The pits were arrayed over a depth of about 100 paces and, although carefully planned, seemed haphazard and inconsequential. The Danes would soon learn otherwise.
A tall bearded man in a gilded helmet which shone brilliantly in the sun stepped clear in front of the Danes, turned and began to shout exhortations to his men, waving his arms.
“Kill him!” Alan quietly instructed Owain the Welsh master-bowman who stood at his side. Owain already had an arrow in hand and with a single fluid movement notched the arrow, raised the bow and loosed. A moment later the bodkin-tipped arrow smashed into the back of the Dane between the shoulders, pierced the chain-mail byrnie and threw the man forward onto his face with more than two feet of arrow showing between his shoulder-blades.
After a moment of blank stupefaction the Danes gave a wild hoarse battle-cry and leaped forward. Alan turned first to the archers on the west flank, and then those on the east flank, in each case raising a clenched fist above his head in a pumping motion. No instructions were yet given to the men hiding in the forest to the east. Twenty longbowmen began to rain a hail of arrows into the Danes, each delivering an aimed arrow every four or five seconds. At such short range the trajectory was flat and more than half of the arrows struck shields. When they did not, the sheer power of the longbow drove the bodkin-tipped armour-piercing arrow through whatever it hit, be it chain-mail, helmet or flesh.
Danes were falling, disrupting those who followed behind. Then the Danes reached the main part of the seemingly useless defensive pits. Seeing them, the men skirted around them, but they were slowed- and more particularly were forced into three narrow channels. This made the job of the archers easier. They simply had to select a target from the mass of armoured men. From their advanced positions, with the natural protection offered by the mudflat, the archers on the right flank were now able to mainly avoid the shields, smashing arrows into the sides of the foe, while those on the left flank still had to carefully chose their target.
Alan faced the men hidden in the woods to the east and again raised a fist, punching the sky. Twenty more archers began to rain death on the Danes from the trees behind them, arrows slamming into their undefended backs. Before they reached the row of defensive pits closest to the English already more than 100 Danes lay dead, riddled with the longbow cloth-yard arrows.
The Danes had been channeled by the seemingly-innocuous pits into three areas each 25 paces wide, jostling each other and slowing their progress. As the first of the Danes burst out of the bottle-necks and surged forward, the 10 archers behind the shield-wall joined the fray, shooting point-blank into the faces and throats of the Danes running towards them. Each loosed 4 or 5 arrows at close range into the Danes, the arrows smashing through armour and flesh. Men dropped, some quietly and others screaming with pain from chest or belly wounds.
The English were deployed in chevron-shaped formations in front of each of the three openings in the line of pits. The Danes burst out of the confined areas, spreading slightly as they charged. Danes fell left and right from the efforts of the archers and were trampled underfoot by those who followed. Alan could see behind his own line youths of ten or so years of age trundling hand-carts containing sheaves of arrows to replenish the supplies of the bowmen to the rear of the English line, as they loosed arrow after arrow, each sheaf of twelve taking less than a minute to use.
The men in the English shield-wall were chanting the ancient Saxon battle-cry. “Out! Out! Out!” They hammered their spears or sword-hilts against their shields. The Danes roared their own battle cries as they closed the English line. Then the front ranks of the Danes struck the English shield-wall like three hammer-blows.
Usually the Danes used their own projectiles when close to the enemy, normally small throwing axes, but this time they were so keen to close with the enemy that they passed up the opportunity to pause and throw. The English swordsmen in the front rank, many experiencing their first taste of battle, quailed as the screaming Danes closed with their long hair flying, mouths open screaming battle-cries or death-cries, faces bright red from the exertion of running on soft ground in full armour.
The battle-chant, the press of men at each shoulder and the feel of the man close behind, the provision of mutual protection and support kept the English line together. When the Danes crashed into the shield-wall they were pushed back as the English warriors bent slightly and shoved hard just as the Danes hit. In the close confines of the battle, where there was hardly space to swing an axe or long-sword, the English swordsmen began to use their shorter one-handed swords to effect, stabbing towards the bellies of the invaders, facing them as they pushed forward and with the shield on their left arm protecting them from the blows of the Danes.
The use of the defensive pits and the positioning of the English shield-wall meant that, while the Danes outnumbered the English two to one overall, at the shield-wall there were two Englishmen for each Dane, with a large pack of other invaders pushing forward trying to get a place. While it was hot work for the English swordsmen in the front rank, they held a two to one advantage on the shield-wall and a spear stabbing over each shoulder trying to impale the Danes if they dropped their guard for a moment, the English held and the Danish losses mounted quickly. In the press the dead, English and Dane alike, found it difficult to fall, being supported upright by the bodies of the living. Men pushed and shoved, shouted, screamed, thrust and slashed with weapons. Blood flew from strokes that hit their target, blood and guts from those who had been eviscerated made the ground slippery and the wounded who did fall to the ground were trampled as the shield-wall surged back and forth.
Crammed together the Danish axe-men had no room to wield their weapons, and the swordsmen were restricted to bashing with their shields and trying to stab their opponent in the guts as any attempt at an overhand stroke would most likely lop off the head of the compatriot standing next to him. The fighting style of the Norsemen, trained for individual and not collective combat, counted against them. Alan had specifically trained the Englishmen, including the fyrdmen, to fight in a shield-wall.
At Hastings the English had learned from the Normans that combat required men to work together in mutually supporting groups and that the importance of individual ability epitomised by the Berserker was largely a thing of the past. While being faced by a huge man wielding a massive battleaxe in both hands, hewing through his opponents like so much wood, slicing men and horses asunder, was enough to make even a brave man empty his bowels, properly executed coordinated close-combat made the two-handed axe almost redundant. If the axe-men were not killed by archers when they stepped forward from their own shield-wall, and the opposing swordsmen kept out of their reach but engaged their attention, the supporting spearmen and bowmen would account for them. The local English fyrdmen had been taught well over the last two years.
Alan’s archers walked back and forth behind the ranked men of the shield-wall, shooting arrows into the faces of men they could almost reach out and touch. Again, many of them were in their first battle and the sight of the huge arrows slamming into the face, throat or chest of men at very short range, the spray of blood from the arrow-strike and the eruption of blood from the mouth of the target as he fell screaming was very different from shooting at straw targets at 200 paces. Many were white-faced and looking as if they would vomit at any moment as they mechanically reached into their quivers for the next arrow and looked for their next target.
When the Danes were fully engaged, separated into three untidy gaggles partly in front of the defensive pits and partly still awaiting the opportunity to move forward, Alan let loose his cavalry. They charged from their hiding place in the woods, through a corridor in the ditches left for their use and smashed into the right flank of the Danes from behind. With the din of battle the Danes did not hear the drumming of the horses’ hooves as they closed.
The first target of each horseman was speared with a lance in his side or back. Some lances broke at the first contact, others lasted to account for two or three of the enemy before the shattered wood had to be discarded and the horseman drew his long sword and began to deal death with each swing of his arm, as the arrow-head formation of the cavalry smashed through. As the momentum of the charge was lost and the Danes realised what was happening and turned to defend the flank, the cavalry drew back to collect new lances and reorganize for another charge. More than 100 Danes lay dead along the path of the charge, along with six horses and four cavalrymen.
In a few moments the Danes on their right flank, the English left flank, had been virtually annihilated. With nearly half their number dead or wounded and with their leaders having been specially targeted by the archers, in particular Owain, it took some time before the men on the Danish left flank and in the centre realised their predicament, and the rear ranks to start trying to extricate themselves.
Many Danes in the centre were looking across at where the cavalry were lining up for their next charge, knowing they would be the target. As the Danes tried to pull back, the English shield-wall swarmed forward, maintaining the pressure. The Danes slowly retreated, trying to keep a coherent force and maintain discipline. The English cavalry charged down another path through in the trenches and hit the Danish centre like an Act of God, again cutting a swathe through the struggling foot-soldiers like a scythe through grass.
The Danes routed and fled to the south towards the ships.
It was then the second part of Alan’s plan became evident. Havorn and Alekrage had rowed into Barfleet Creek just as the Danish infantry had started to march north. Being snekke build by the Danes and with Norwegian captains, they had encountered no difficulty in mingling with the ships of the invaders, with Sven shouting replies in Danish and Norwegian to the few shouted questions he heard. The English crewmen kept their mouths shut and heads down. When the battle on shore was joined and the attention of the Danish anchor-guard was distracted, Sven and Lars had quietly taken action against the Danish ships, which by now had floated off the mud bank with the incoming tide and were secured fore and aft by an anchor. Both of the English longships had towed a sunnmorsf?ring, a Norwegian four-oared rowing-boat, and positioned themselves about 70 yards distant from each other along part of the line of Danish ships, which stretched in total for about 200 yards. There were six Danish ships between the two English longships and three Danes to the south of Havorn, with the rest of the Danish ships being north of Alekrage.
While this occurred, on land the Danish troops had just reached the English shield-wall. Distance and the dust thrown up by hundreds of feet made it impossible for those who had remained with the ships to see what was happening, but to a man their attention was drawn north-west, interest piqued by the shouts, screams and din of battle that could now be heard.
The English rowed out with ten men crammed into each sunnmorsf?ring, each targeting the ship next to their own in the group that was flanked by the two English ships. The first ship the men from Havorn approached never even saw them, the four men on anchor-watch standing together near the bow and were dispatched by a silent rush of knife-wielding Saxons. The next ship was slightly more watchful, and Sven waved a large earthenware jar of aqua vitae in each hand before inviting himself and his men aboard, clambering over the stern of the ship and having his men take down the three unsuspecting watchmen.
The third ship saw them coming and some instinct or surliness made the senior watchman wave away the rowing boat. Now with only six men aboard Sven decided to quit while he was ahead and turned to row back to the Havorn, just as shouts were heard from the ship one further along, which was being attacked by the men from Alekrage.
“That’s put the cat amongst the pigeons!” commented Sven casually as he stood and nonchalantly lobbed a small flask containing Wildfire onto the ship that had just refused to allow him to board, starting an instant conflagration. In the meantime ten men had moved from Havorn and Alekrage to crew each of the five captured ships. Anchor ropes were cut at the bows of each ship and the ships hauled backwards into the main stream of the creek using the kedge anchors. Even with skeleton crews the seven ships had little to fear from the Danes, as only an anchor-watch had been left on the Danish ships with barely enough men to raise an anchor and certainly not enough to row the ships.
Remembering one of the maxims written by the Roman Vegetius in the 4th century allow your enemy to retreat, Alan had instructed Sven that he wanted to leave six or seven ships in Danish hands, enough for them to use to flee if the battle went in favour of the English, but with their strength significantly diminished.
Alan knew that, like the wolves they were, the Danish raiders would move on and look for easier prey if they could. He also knew that, also like wolves, if trapped they would fight to the death. Even now there were still more Danes than Englishmen and to totally defeat them would cost many English lives for what Alan saw as no benefit. There seemed an inexhaustible supply of Danes and longships and he wanted as few Englishwomen as possible being made widows today, and as many men as possible ready to respond when the Danes next raided. So Sven and Lars had their crews row close to the Danish longships, carefully tossing flasks of Wildfire into four snekke. The pint or so of incendiary material splashed across the decks setting fire first to the tar-drenched caulking, then the wood hulls and the tarred ropes. One burning ship drifted into another, setting it ablaze in moments, as the Danish crewmen threw themselves in the water and swam away.
The undermanned ships crewed by the English, Havorn and Alekrage together with the new prizes, rowed away slowly towards the Colne estuary and then headed north, using their flax-coloured woollen sails to take advantage of a favourable breeze and give the tired rowers a rest.
Despite the pyres burning behind them the Danes on the shore still seemed unaware of the dual nature of their predicament. They had fallen back approximately half a mile to a point halfway between the initial point of contact and the village of Brightlingsea. Here the land was much more open and footing more firm and they were seeking to rally. With still with over 500 men they stood, and as the second cavalry charge had exhausted itself and fallen back the Danes had formed a shield-wall of two, sometimes three, ranks and with a group of men on each flank to both act as reserves and provide protection for the vulnerable flanks.
The English followed slowly, the infantry leading, moving carefully through the pattern of defensive pits. The cavalry followed, positioning themselves to the east, on the English left flank. There, away from the lower-lying ground, the footing was firmer. Finally, the archers came trotting through, delayed by their obtaining fresh supplies of arrows from the village lads pulling hand-carts laden with sheaves of arrows. Alan was not happy with the new position. The infantry had the defensive pits to their rear. The cavalry, while on open ground and with firm footing, had the stand of trees to their rear. Both the pits and the trees would make any retreat, should it prove necessary, difficult- just as it had for the Danes a few minutes before.
In the pause as the English set up their shield-wall two things happened. Alan had water-carts with barrels of fresh water move through his lines, allowing the men to drink and wash the enemy’s blood from their faces, arms and weapons, and the cavalry to water their horses using the leather collapsible buckets that each horseman carried. The other was that the Danish leader had finally realised that something was amiss to his rear. The more seriously Danish wounded were assisted to the ships, mainly by those with lesser injuries but also with some fit men to secure the remaining ships.
For perhaps half an hour, the Dane and English stood looking at each other, the shield-walls separated by about 150 paces. Light rain began to fall, making the men uncomfortable as it soaked through the leather on which the chain-mail or scale-armour was sewn and into the padded garments below. Alan was on the English left flank sitting on his destrier Odin next to the cavalry and gladly accepted a towel his servant Leof handed to him, wiping the moisture, part rain and part sweat, from his face. Odin was fidgeting, moving his weight from foot to foot, keen to get to work as all he had done so far that day was stand and watch.
The leaders who Alan had appointed for his forces were Brand, in overall charge of the infantry, with Leofstan, Leofson of Moze and Alwin of Little Bromley as his deputies. The cavalry was led by Alan’s men Hugh, Ainulf, Edric (still with his axe in hand) and Alfward, together with Gerard de Cholet from Elmstead. The archers, all Alan’s men, were led by Owain, Roger, Barclay, Abracan and Aethelbald. Ranulf the Huscarle, Brand’s deputy, commanded back at the village.
The preponderance of his own men in charge of the cavalry and archers showed Alan’s basic battle philosophy- kill as many as possible at long range and smash what was left with repeated charges of heavy cavalry from the flanks. This was a philosophy intended to maximise results and minimise casualties.
The English were now positioned with a main shield-wall of about 200 men facing the Danes, in three ranks. Two groups of each of fifty men stood slightly behind in reserve. The archers were deployed in five squads each of ten men, two squads on each wing and one in the centre. Alan instructed Hugh to take a ten-man squad of cavalry to the right wing to provide protection for the archers on that flank, leaving forty mounted men on the left wing. The archers on the other flank were standing ankle-deep in water on the tidal-flat and were in effect protected from attack by the soft nature of the ground. The Danish leader in response sent more men to his right wing to counter the strength of the English on that side.
Preparations complete, Alan ordered his men forward fifty paces and for the archers to again begin to loose at the Danes. Further supplies of arrows were already being brought forward even before the barrage began. In response, the Danes crouched, the large round shields of the front rank facing the English providing cover to the front and those of the second rank, standing close behind, providing cover overhead.
At times of stress Alan’s language tended to become colourful, even if his mind remained ice-clear. This was one of those times. A string of the vilest oaths and imprecations he could think of both in English and French burst forth. There was a polite cough from Gerard de Cholet next to him, and Alan turned and saw that Anne was sitting on her white palfrey Misty just behind him. “Holy Mary, Mother of God! Just what I need right now!” Alan complained loudly. He didn’t ask her how matters were progressing in the village. He knew that if things weren’t in hand she wouldn’t be here. Ignoring her he went on, “I knew I should have brought up those damn onagers. Just throwing fucking big rocks at them would break up that shield-wall! Bad planning!”
While Alan debated with himself whether to call for the onagers, which would take two hours to break-down, move and re-assemble. The longbowmen were killing and injuring Danes at a slow but steady pace. In the end Alan decided to send the archers further forward, to be level or behind the Danish shield wall, and deployed his cavalry to equally cover both flanks.
This forced the Danes to pull back both their flanks and commit their reserves, resulting in a near round-shaped formation- the Danes had learned their lesson earlier in the day. In the face of the accuracy and sheer power of the longbow, together with the threat of further smashing cavalry charges, they were not prepared to commit suicide by attacking. Similarly, Alan did not want to throw either cavalry or infantry against the Danish shield-wall. The Danes were no longer encumbered by being crammed together and without doubt many would wield the two-handed battle-axe in a way to cause many English casualties. Alan was bearing in mind that his objective was not to kill the Danes, but remove them as a threat at the least possible cost to the local fyrdmen and troops, and he tempered his impatience accordingly.
He moved a force of thirty horsemen past the right flank of the Danes to threaten the remaining Danish ships, and then had them hold. The Danes responded to the threat to their only avenue of escape in the manner which Alan had expected, by withdrawing towards the remaining ships in an orderly fashion, one or two ship-loads of 50 men at a time, forming a new line 100 paces back, and then resuming their withdrawal. Alan was content to let them go. The alternative was to force a battle by sallying his men- but he did not want to end up owning a battlefield strewn with Danish and English corpses. The former he was not concerned about, but the latter were important. He knew he could only achieve one at the cost of the other.
Gerard de Cholet rode up to Alan, pulling up his charger only about arm’s length away, shouting and gesticulating that the enemy were escaping, spittle flying from his mouth in his agitation as he demanded action. De Cholet had neither been knighted nor made the owner of the lands he held from fitzWymarc, and as such his social position was so far below that of Alan that his opinion was worthless.
With some difficulty Alan stayed his hand from his sword to take retribution for the aspersions cast on his manliness and courage. After a brief pause while Alan considered he could not refer to de Cholet as ‘Sir Gerard’ or ‘Mesire’, he simply and bluntly replied, “I know that damn well, de Cholet! I intend for them to escape, rather than fight like trapped wolves. I don’t know if you feel a need to prove something, but I do not! To annihilate them will cost the lives of 200 of our men, to no useful benefit. I want our men alive to bring in the harvest in the next few weeks. If you and your five men want to mount an attack and prove you have balls, by all means feel free! We’ll give you a big cheer as a Danish axe-man chops you in twain! Learn to fight with your head, not your balls!”
De Cholet threw his lance away in disgust and wrenched his mount to one side so abruptly as to cause almost certain damage from the bit to its sensitive mouth, and used his spurs on the abused beast to canter several dozen paces away.
As the Danes boarded their ships Alan sent fifty men to secure the village of Brightlingsea and instructed Swein and his men from Great Bentley that they could return home to see what damage had been wreaked by the enemy. Riders were sent to St Osyth and Frowick Hall to determine the damage suffered by those villages.
Shortly afterwards Thegn Edward, who held about one third of the land at St Osyth, the balance belonging to the Bishop of London and placed in the care of the Fleming Albyn of Bruges, rode in. Edward reported that Albyn and most of his foreign troops had been killed, as was the case with Roger de Montivilliers at Great Clacton. Geoffrey of Rouen and his men at Little Clacton had survived. The corrupt priest Engelric’s manor at Frowick Hall had been burnt to the ground but almost all the geburs had fled to safety. Given past differences Alan found no difficulty in controlling his grief about Albyn of Bruges or his men, Arnaud and Josselin, Roger de Montivilliers or Engelric’s manor.
Indeed, with his past disputes with Edsel the King’s Reeve of Brightlingsea and Edsel’s refusal to work with the thegns with a claim of special privileges resulting from the village belonging directly to the king, Alan also shed no tears about the partial devastation of the village before him. People not prepared to work together have to stand alone, and the cheorls of the village should have understood that as well as any. Alan mused that those who were still alive would certainly remember that in the future.
The Danes boarded their remaining ships with some difficulty, the press of men aboard making it difficult for the rowers to use the oars properly as they backed into Barfleet Creek, then departed south to navigate through the sandbars at the mouth of the estuary. Several mounted scouts followed along the shoreline to ensure that the Danish fleet then headed east for home to lick their wounds.
The English were busy tidying the battlefield, stripping and throwing the Danish corpses into several of the defensive ditches that had been dug and transporting the more seriously injured of the English and the few lightly wounded Danes back to Thorrington. The three dozen or so seriously injured Danes were finished with a knife across the throat or between the ribs. The villagers from Brightlingsea were drifting back from the swamps and trees to the north where many had fled the night before when the Danes had attacked, saving nothing but their lives and the clothes in which they stood.
Alan rode the short distance into Brightlingsea, noting that eleven buildings, houses and barns, had been burnt, with wisps of grey smoke still drifting in the air. Most of the livestock was gone, eaten by the Danes, but a few escaped chickens and pigs rooted amongst the vegetable gardens. The villagers gathered up their dead and placed them outside the small wooden church, over a dozen pathetic bundles, mainly men but with two women and several children and youths. Three men hanging from a make-shift gallows had not yet been cut down and Alan saw that one of these was Edsel the Reeve, the other two presumably being elders of the village. His mouth gave a twitch of a smile.
A few injured were being cared for out of the still falling rain inside the Moot-Hall and a number of women were sitting, some alone and some with others, with the frightened vacant expressions of the abused. Brother Wacian, the priest from Thorrington, was organising the survivors into groups to attend to necessary tasks. The village had been plundered of what few valuables the people had and most of its food, but the Danes had not wreaked total devastation- perhaps because they had intended to use it for shelter for another night. As Alan rode past the villagers stared at him apathetically. Even as an ox wagon arrived from Thorrington with cooked food and ale there were no smiles and no thanks.
Leaving Brother Wacian and the villagers of Brightlingsea to their own devices Alan rode back through the rain to Thorrington in the late afternoon. There the village women and the youths were busily preparing food either over their own hearths or in open cooking pits, that latter experiencing some difficulty due to the constant rain. The baker and his apprentice had been busy all day and loaves of fresh bread were being handed out and ripped into several pieces to serve every man. Meat was being roasted over the cooking pits, mainly pigs, and cauldrons of beef and vegetable stew were bubbling over cooking fires and being served in wooden bowls.
The tavern had run out of ale, but was still packed with men getting out of the rain, as was every barn and stable. The Old Hall was being used to care for the wounded and the New Hall was packed full with about 100 of the leaders and the more important men. Several tables had been set up at one end of the Hall but it was impossible to seat all of the guests and most were standing with ale mugs in hand, engaging in shouted conversation with their neighbours, fighting the battle again blow by blow. The noise was incredible. Most of the men were wearing the stained tunics they had worn under their gambesons and armour, and the woollen breeches they habitually wore. Their clothing was wet with sweat and rain. Despite the windows and doors being open to allow in the evening sea-breeze the rank smell of the solid throng was overpowering.
Servants wended their way through the mob carrying platters of food which they placed on several of the tables near the door, and at another table two men were serving ale as fast as they could pour from the barrel spigot. Another barrel was being trundled in as an empty was rolled out. Alan was sure that his store-room was taking a real beating that day, but mused that this was what it was there for. Better to be used for a victory feast by the English than by the Danes. The guests held their ale mugs in one hand and in the other an open sandwich that they had made by taking a slice of bread and topping it with the meat and sauces available on the tables. Some instead held joints of meat, fresh apples or slabs of cheese. Clearly Anne had required the kitchen staff to work hard that day producing the copious quantities of food required and Otha the cook had responded well. The food was simple but tasty and able to be eaten by hand. Hungry warriors did not require the tasty titbits expected by courtiers. In deference to it being Friday fish was available on the tables, mainly pickled herring, but most of the warriors had granted themselves dispensation to eat as they saw fit from the varied provender supplied.
Alan hurried upstairs to his bedroom and was starting the difficult task of stripping off his wet armour and gambeson when the door opened and Anne slipped in, gave him a lingering kiss and then a hug- her nose wrinkling in disgust at the rank smell of the armour and the uncomfortable feeling of being crushed against metal rings.
A moment later Leof also arrived and together he and Anne worked to undo the wet thong ties that fastened the armour and then lift the hauberk off over Alan’s head. “Make sure you dry it well and oil it,” Alan instructed Leof. “Otherwise you’ll be spending weeks burnishing off the rust!” He pulled off the padded gambeson and his under-tunic, both soaked with sweat and rain, poured cold water from a ewer into a basin and quickly washed his face and hair before wetting a towel and sponging off the worst of the sweat from his body. He then slipped on a clean plain black tunic and hose and sat on the bed to don his boots.
Still sitting, he leaned forward, put his head in his hands, sighed tiredly and cleared his mind for a moment before standing and then proceeding arm-in-arm with Anne down the stairs and to a small raised dais in the Hall.
At a signal from Alan Brand blew a single loud note on a signal-horn and the hubbub in the Hall lessened over several seconds as the warriors turned and looked at Alan. “Hlaford!” he said. “Thank you for responding to the call to arms so quickly and in such strength. Thanks to you and the efforts of your men together, and with God’s good grace, we won a battle that does honour both to you and your men and shows the benefit of the hard work and money spent in equipping and training your men.
“Today we faced an enemy of fierce, well-equipped and well-trained warriors, who outnumbered us two to one. But, thanks be to God, we prevailed as our men showed their mettle, their skills and their bravery. The example and leadership of each and every one of you was instrumental in the outcome, as was the speed with which you responded to the threat. Events such as today are the reason why we are who we are, and why we do what we do. It is our privilege and responsibility, before God and before the people, to protect this land and everybody in it, down to the last humble slave. That is why we have the privilege of holding the land as we do and why we must all work as hard as we can to be ready at a moment’s notice to defend what we have and hold. Yes, God fought with us this day, but we all know God helps those who help themselves. Our victory, hard won as it was, comes from the hard work we have all done over many years and in particular in the last two years since the Danes last visited.
“Brother Wacian will say a morning Mass of thanksgiving at Terce tomorrow. You and all your men are welcome to attend and are also welcome to what hospitality the village can offer. Hopefully we will be able to find a dry place for each man to sleep this night! As to booty, it appears that there is little enough to share as the Danes had just arrived on these shores. Apart from fertiliser (here Alan had to pause for several moments to allow the laughter to die away), we have about 400 sets of weapons taken from their dead and wounded, which will be shared amongst those who ask and should be available after Mass tomorrow. The thegns can send wagons, but any freeman can claim a set of arms and armour- we should have enough to give to any who ask! There are five longships, which I intend to offer to the sheriff together with my share of the weapons, if he agrees to man them and keep them available at Colchester to support the shire against future attacks. I trust that this meets with your approval. Now, I’ll have a quick bite and sup and away to the Old Hall to visit the wounded. Once again, my thanks and God bless you all!”
There were several cheers of acclamation as Alan stood down and a dozen or more men came forward to clasp his arm and thump him on the shoulders, expressing their appreciation of his leadership and in particular the skill and tactics shown that day to defeat a more numerous and skilled enemy. Amidst the interruptions Alan ate a hurried meal of mutton stew with vegetables, roast pork with pickled vegetables, fresh bread and cheese. He then went upstairs to change into an old brown tunic and walked over towards the Old Hall, still munching on an apple.
Darkness had fallen and in the torch-lit Old Hall the dim and flickering light showed lines of injured men laid out on the rush-covered earthen floor. Some were moaning in pain and two or three were screaming. Brother Wacian and the wise-women of several villages were doing what they could to assist. Father Ator the priest from Wivenhoe moved amongst the men, praying with them, shriving them and occasionally administering Last Rites. Aedre, the elderly wise-woman from Thorrington, had taken charge. The woman, her young assistant, the other wise-women and some of the village women were doing what they could to ease the pain and tend the injured. Wise-women had some basic knowledge of herbs and treatment of injuries, some could even set broken bones, but most of the injured in the Old Hall were beyond their abilities.
Alan quickly took charge and divided the wounded into four categories. Those who would die irrespective of any treatment they received, usually severe head injuries or stomach wounds. Of these there were well over a dozen, both English and Danes. The second group comprised those with major trauma needing immediate treatment to survive. Again, slightly more than a dozen. The third was those with serious injuries needing treatment as soon as practical, usually sword or spear cuts to the limbs or torso- some twenty men. The final group was those with deep cuts that required cleansing and stitching, or broken bones that required setting. This group numbered about thirty. Alan instructed a messenger to ride at first light to Colchester Priory to seek the assistance of the infirmarer and several of his assistants.
Much later, on returning to the New Hall, Alan was met by Anne, who had been dozing in a chair until he arrived. He was conducted by her to the bath-house outside where water had been warmed and the huge hot-tub was ready for use. They both stripped and slipped into the water, luxuriating in its warmth, and Alan scrubbed off both the sweat and dirt of the day and the blood on his arms that he had missed when washing in cold water and poor light at the Old Hall. Near dropping with fatigue he accepted Anne’s arm to assist him from the tub and stumbled upstairs to the bedroom, falling face-first onto the bed into instant insensibility.
Next morning he was roused by the noise from the Hall below at about eight, an hour before the special Mass was due to be said by Brother Wacian. He and Anne broke their fast on ham, eggs and fresh bread upstairs, leaving the servants to deal with the guests in the Hall below, before dressing in clean but relatively plain clothing to attend Mass. Many of the guests would effectively be attending in their underwear after they had removed the armour they had worn on their arrival, few having had the time or inclination to think about bringing spare clothing to a battle.
The service was conducted in Anglo-Saxon English by Brother Wacian, both as a celebration of victory and a eulogy to the dead and wounded. It was held on the village green, the church being too small to house those gathered and the Old Hall being occupied by the wounded. Alan could sympathise with Brother Wacian’s exhausted appearance, as after Alan had departed to rest the priest had clearly spent much of the remainder of the night still assisting the injured and writing his homily for the morning Mass. Fortunately the weather had cleared and the congregation stood under a clear sky in the warmth of a summer’s morning.
After the parting Benediction, Alan quickly circulated amongst the thegns, again expressing his thanks.
A week later Alan was sitting in the office of Robert fitzWymarc, the sheriff of Essex, at the castle at Colchester. FitzWymarc’s deputy Roger and also his clerk were sitting in the room, as was Alan’s clerk Osmund.
“So you saw fit to call out the fyrd again,” commented fitzWymarc sourly. “You know you don’t have that authority.”
“I didn’t formally call out the fyrd, and you know that Sir Robert,” replied Alan. “The Danes had landed. The sheriff was nowhere to be seen, as is the case with such raids. Nobody can know in advance where they will land. They land and we have just a few minutes, never more than a few hours, to respond. We aren’t talking about an invasion by 5,000 men and the need to raise a large army. Small raids must be dealt with whatever is available at short-notice. The Danes were on the doorstep. I asked my fellow thegns for assistance which they kindly sent- even your own man. Villages burning in the distance give men some motivation to act!”
FitzWymarc scowled and said, “I don’t know that a landing of nearly 1,000 men is ‘a small raid’, and I received no request for assistance.”
“No message was sent. No assistance was needed- and we couldn’t afford to wait for assistance even if it had been dispatched,” said Alan baldly. “There was no time for you to respond. Unless Swein’s whole army arrives we are unlikely to need any assistance. Tendring Hundred has a good group of thegns and geburs who take their defence seriously and fight like lions when they have to. As to the size of the raid, we collected over 350 swords from the dead.”
“De Cholet accuses you of cowardly allowing the enemy to escape instead of engaging them,” said fitzWymarc sharply.
Alan gave a snort of amusement. “De Cholet is a good man with a sword, but not himself the sharpest sword in the armoury. The Danes still outnumbered us even at the end. They were better equipped and better trained. We’d had a good run up to that point and there was no benefit in pushing our luck. A good gambler knows when to fold and walk away and a good leader of a war-band knows the same.” Here he gave a shrug. “We buried 63 of our men the next day. That was enough. Two of them were thegns and three were the sons of thegns. I’ve fought at Hastings, in Wales, at York and twice fought the Danes in my own lands- all winning battles.”
FitzWymarc scowled again. He couldn’t understand how a pack of farmers, thrown together at short notice and Englishmen could rout a larger army of professional Danish raiders while inflicting five times as many losses as they suffered.
Before he could comment further Alan continued, “Anyway, what I came here for was not to debate my actions, but to offer you five longships and forty sets of arms and armour if you undertake to man them, based at Colchester and use them to discourage the raiding on our ships which I understand is causing considerable concern and loss amongst the local merchants.”
“I don’t give a damn for those money-grubbing bastards!” exclaimed the sheriff. “All I hear is their whining about lost profits!”
Alan smiled, but it was a smile of contempt. He replied, “Those ‘money-grubbing bastards’ and their profits support the kingdom and help pay your wages. Mercantile activity means jobs and income for many, and puts money into the coffers of both the king and yourself. I’m offering you a way, at minimal cost, to provide some protection to ships off our shores and to deter small raids. Perhaps you can consult with Chancellor Herfast and King William before you reach a decision. In the meantime I’ll beach the boats in a safe place. Now, if you will excuse me I have some shopping to do- stores to replace and medicines to replenish. Good day, Sir Robert.”