158692.fb2 Winter of Discontent - читать онлайн бесплатно полную версию книги . Страница 8

Winter of Discontent - читать онлайн бесплатно полную версию книги . Страница 8

CHAPTER SEVEN

Thorrington Late June 1068

As he rode past the fortifications and through the gate at Thorrington Hall Alan felt conflicting emotions. He was glad to be home, but heavy-hearted that four men who had ridden out with him did not ride back. Three would not be returning, and the fourth was now a cripple who would return when fit enough to travel. The men had been young and only one was married, with one child. Alan didn’t look forward to visiting the widow and telling her the lie that her man had died painlessly and easily, for he had died screaming in agony and trying to push slippery entrails back in place after he had been disemboweled by a spear. At least the men who had returned the previous week had brought the news and Alan didn’t have to watch a welcoming face turn to fear at the absence of a loved one. The widow would be given employment in the Hall kitchen, at least until she found herself another man- and longer still if she wished. Hugh had already trained a reserve of additional men and the Wolf troop would be brought back to strength by the end of tomorrow, although they would need to train together for several weeks to build the instinctive movement and trust that is needed in battle.

For the four miles from Wivenhoe to Thorrington their passage had been welcomed with smiles and waves from the workers in the fields and the villagers. The manors were abuzz with activity. Alan had timed his return so as to be present for Midsummer Day on 24th June, in three days time. Apart from being a Feast Day dedicated to St John the Baptist it was a day when the manor lord was expected to provide food and drink for all. It was also a Quarter Day when rent and taxes were due, and a traditional festival for all the people.

The folk of the Hall, both those who dwelled therein and those who came daily from the village, were gathered in the forecourt, warned of his approach by word racing ahead of his arrival. In the front row were Anne, now significantly larger of belly, Osmund the clerk, Faran the steward and Brother Wacian the priest. Behind were Otha the cook, wiping her hands on her apron, Teon the stablemaster, Brand the huscarle and half a dozen of the lesser servants and maids. Alan dismounted, handing the reins to a stable boy who led the charger away to be rubbed down, fed and watered, and took several stiff steps towards his wife. He bent to embrace and kiss her, then with his arm around her shoulders he greeted the others and they entered the Hall. It was only mid-afternoon as Alan and his men had taken a fairly leisurely three days to ride from Staunton.

At the table in the Hall, while eating a small repast of bread, butter and cheese, Alan and Edric gave a brief account of the time in Wales. Brand and Ainulf sought details, but Alan put them off by saying that he’d have a more detailed discussion another day with the two Englishmen, together with Hugh and Roger. Alan gave the servants instructions to ensure that the water in the bath-house was hot.

No wanting to put off something unpleasant, Alan, Edric and Anne walked to the small but neat village cottage where Lufian, the wife of the dead soldier Leng, lived with her baby daughter. The young woman was quiet and sad but resigned to her situation. Anne had already visited her and offered a position at the Hall when the news had been received the week before. Lufian and her child would not want for food or shelter.

Once back at the Hall in the late afternoon Alan and Anne soaked in the bathwater piped in from a nearby spring and heated by the fires in the kitchen. The bath was a tun barrel cut in half, with steps and several internal benches set at different heights, and now held warm water. Both stretched in pleasure as the hot water loosened sore back muscles, and in Alan’s case shoulders and legs. Alan had a jug of fine Bordeaux and a cup on the floor next to him. The sight of the water lapping at his wife’s breasts soon made him forget most of his aches and he took her into his arms.

As a result dinner was eaten somewhat late. Being a Saturday there were no dietary restrictions and Otha the cook had gone out of her way to create a series of dishes to tempt the palates of those who had eaten roughly-cooked meals for nigh on a month. A thick and creamy chicken and leek soup was followed by boiled beef with green garlic sauce, quails braised in white wine, grilled honeyed pork chops with ginger, three types of vegetables- carrot, peas and beans- carefully cooked and spiced, apple pie with thickened cream and the piquant cheeses that Alan favoured- Roquefort, Gorgonzola, Neufchatel, Parmigiano and Romano. All were accompanied by fresh bread and freshly-churned butter, and ale, wine, herb tea or fruit juice according to taste and inclination.

The returned soldiers and their families attended Mass the next day en masse, the service being held in the Old Hall due to occasional showers sweeping in from the sea and the size of the congregation being too large for the small wooden church. The Tithe Barn was often used in such instances but was currently unavailable due to the quantity of goods gathered for payment of taxes, rents and tithes. Brother Wacian gave thanks for those returning safely and said prayers for the souls of the three men who would not return.

Alan, Anne and the household attended Mass again on Tuesday, Midsummer Day and the Feast of the Nativity of St John the Baptist. On this occasion the congregation squeezed into the small church. Following the service, as the smoke from the cattle, swine and sheep roasting over open fires and the steam of boiling cauldrons containing joints of the same animals drifted past, Alan discussed with Brother Wacian and head-cheorl Toland whether a larger church should be considered, and the expense and difficulty of using stone. The matter was left unresolved for further discussion by the village moot.

Faran and Osmund were kept busy collecting and recording the rent and taxes, the latter then dispatched to Colchester under guard, partly in cash and partly in kind- mainly sacks of grain or salt.

Anne’s business manager Jacob the Jew arrived from London as previously instructed several days later. He and Anne were closeted together for two days as Anne checked through the books and ledgers, carefully calculating profit margins, examining alternative suppliers and trying to anticipate market trends based on the information that Jacob drew from his large network. Alan spent some time listening in and was interested to hear that trouble was expected from the Danes resuming raiding in the autumn, King Swein of Denmark having given his permission for this activity. This would impact the voyages of the ships Birgitta and Stormsvale between Ipswich, Norway, the Netherlands and London, the two ships effectively running a shuttle service back and forth to their respective trading ports every two weeks. Zeelandt’s very profitable but longer and less frequent voyages to Aquitaine wouldn’t be affected.

“And what do you intend to do about the northern voyages? Do you intend to halt them, based on this information?” asked Alan.

Anne sighed and replied, “It’s all a hypothetical risk at the moment. As far as I’m aware there’s been no increase in attacks on merchant ships- yet. Each voyage brings in more in profit than the ship itself is worth. I don’t see any reason to halt the trading based on rumour and speculation. We’ll consider the information and warn the crews to be more careful. If and when the risk eventuates we can review the policy. There are a number of ships trading on these routes, so it’s unlikely the first attacks will be on our ships.”

“We could put some trained soldiers and ballistae on the cogs so they can protect themselves, as we did with Zeeland,” suggested Alan.

“We’ll wait and see,” replied Anne with finality in her procrastination, before turning back to the Jew. “Anything else?”

“Yes, my lady. There is the issue of the outstanding loans,” said Jacob, pulling out a ledger from amongst a pile of others. “You made twenty-three loans to thegns, interest-free for a period of twelve months.” Here his face took on a slightly pained expression at such largess. “That was so that they could pay the Redemption Heriot charged by King William on all English landholders to retain their land. The money was due six months ago. Of the loans, nine have been paid in full. As instructed by you, I gave the others an additional six month grace period and warned them clearly that their land would be forfeit if they did not pay. Ten have made part payment, not less than one-third of the due amount. Four have paid nothing, despite being given another reminder a month ago. Under the terms of the agreements you could foreclose on all of the fourteen manors and seize their lands for your own.”

“What do you think, Alan?” asked Anne.

“It’s your money. You made the loans and it’s your decision,” replied Alan. “As they’re not paying interest, there’s little reason for them to reduce what they owe. They risk losing the land, but maybe they’re gambling you won’t foreclose. Maybe they simply can’t pay, in which case they should never have made the arrangement.” He paused and then asked Jacob, “What interest rate would the Jews have charged had they made the loans?”

“Secured against land, just five percent. A month,” answered Jacob.

Alan winced. “And we hold the landboc deeds of title as security?” he asked.

Jacob looked affronted. “Of course!”

“As I said, it’s your decision, my love. I would say that I’d probably treat those who have part-paid differently from those who have paid nothing. How much money is involved?” said Alan.

Without needing to check his ledgers Jacob replied, “A total of just over?38 from the four non-payers. A further?27 and some pennies from those who have part-paid.”

“That’s a lot of money, then” said Alan. “As I see it the options would be to give them more time, to foreclose or to start to charge interest- which would at least give them a big incentive to pay the principal. We are, of course, forbidden to loan money at interest, so any such arrangement would need to look as if the loan has been refinanced through the Jews.”

“Where are the four manors of those who haven’t paid anything?” asked Anne.

“Two in central Essex, one in Suffolk and one in Hertfordshire, my lady” answered Jacob.

“Seize those estates immediately. There’s no excuse for them not having made the effort to pay something after eighteen months. Give the other ten written formal notice that they have one month to repay in full, and verbally advise them that you can provide finance- which we will fund, although obviously you won’t advise the defaulters of that fact. Go through the books of the seized estates and advise me whether the steward or somebody else in the household is capable of administering the estate or whether we need to appoint another steward,” instructed Anne brusquely. After a moments pause she added, “We’ll also need to see if their taxes are paid up to date. Get the part-paid ones to provide proof they have no debt to the Crown, and that the money we provided was used to pay the Heriot. The last thing we need would be for the king to seize the estates for arrears of tax.”

Alan nodded and then after a reflective pause, during which he characteristically rubbed his bearded chin, he said, “With this news of the Danes I’ll order that the manor house at Ramsey improve its fortifications. Harvest isn’t for another four or five weeks and with the labour from at least my four villages in the area that work will take less than a week. You may wish to do the same at Wivenhoe. I’ll also move some of the horses at stud from Ramsey to the new stud at Great Bentley, where they’ll be safer.” After another pause he asked Jacob, “As a matter of interest, how much wealth do we have at the moment?”

Jacob frowned. “I’m not entirely sure. It varies day to day depending on sale and purchase of cargoes. It would take some time to work out the value of the land you own, the land that my lady will own once I foreclose, the value of her businesses, the value of merchandise- and whether its value is taken at cost or at sale price. The values of the mining and fulling businesses, well those would depend on what somebody would pay. Those would be at least?1,000 by themselves. I can tell you that you have?3,715 cash on deposit at call. At a rough guess I would say about?6,000 in all, almost certainly quite a bit more.”

Alan snorted in disbelief and said, “And two years ago I was a landless knight with less than a shilling in my purse. Now I, and my wife, have more money than most of the earls, and all from the proceeds we gained by defeating the Danes in battle last year- and Anne’s good management of that seed-money.”

Anne smiled happily. “I told you, I’m a merchant’s daughter and learned how to turn one penny into two at my mother’s breast. Each voyage of the ships gives a profit of at least 50 percent. From Aquitaine the profit margin is closer to 200 percent. Our Factor buys wine direct from the vineyard and in London we sell direct to the larger houses, if they buy by the tun, and to the retailers. He also buys spices and luxury items in bulk. We really could make a lot of money if we invested the spare cash in extra ships and more merchandise- but we can’t spend all the money we’re making now, so why bother? I don’t think either of us want to build up a merchant empire.”

“Certainly not me,” replied Alan. “I just don’t understand it or have the gift of making it work, unlike you and Jacob- nor frankly do I have the interest. Nobles or warriors aren’t supposed to engage in trade. We’re earning more money than we can spend and that’s more than enough.”

“We could hold parties and serve the guests food covered in gild,” said Anne mischievously, knowing Alan’s hatred of ostentation. Alan snorted in reply.

“What do you think of the idea of endowing a hospital, or perhaps a lazar house at Colchester?” asked Alan. “I believe that the abbeys and priories receive sufficient patronage and that doing something practical for people in need may be a suitable use for surplus funds. Charity is encouraged by God.”

“Not a lazar house,” replied Anne. “Leprosy and other similar infectious diseases, plagues and poxes and the like, are God’s punishment on those people who have somehow offended him. I wouldn’t see it as being fit to endow such an institution. Perhaps establishing and maintaining an orphanage would be a suitably pious gift.”

Alan inclined his head to acknowledge his wife’s words but not to indicate agreement. After a moment’s pause he continued the previous conversation with Jacob. “Exactly where are these four manors that Anne is just about to acquire?” he asked.

Jacob had to refer to his notes as he’d memorized the financial information, but not the geographical. After a pause he replied, “Ah… In Essex there is Markshall near Halstead on the Colne in Hinkford Hundred, owned by Gothmund; Norton in Ongar Hundred near Chelmsford, owned by Godhild of Greensted; Claret Hall in Hinkford Hundred, owned by Leodmer the priest. Bushley in Danish Hundred in Hertfordshire, owned by Leofwin- who is a substantial landholder with many manors and should be able to pay.”

Alan nodded and said, “At least they’re all in areas that should be relatively safe from attack. The manor at Norton should be useful, as we usually break our journey to London at Chelmsford and we can stay there overnight. None of the manors are more than a day’s ride away. I’ll have a look at them in the next few weeks, on behalf of their new owner,” he concluded with a smile.

Next day Alan rode the short distance east to the horse stud at Great Bentley to inspect the facilities and check on progress. While Alan had been away in the west the long-awaited horse trainer, named William, had arrived from Amiens with a young assistant named Ivo. Alan wanted to see how the training of the horses to fight in battle was progressing.

Great Bentley was a little less than two miles from Thorrington and so Alan and Osmund arrived after a journey of just a few minutes. Great Bentley was a wealthy village and while it had just three hides of land under cultivation it supported nine plough teams. It had extensive woodland able to provide forage for hundreds of pigs and a salt-house owned by Alan, although no mill- the villagers used Alan’s mill at Thorrington. Most importantly from Alan’s view, it had extensive meadowland and pasture. Cows and sheep can be supported by grazing on the grasses on the wasteland. Horses are more delicate, requiring better grazing and supplementary feed. Alan had given most of the village and its cropping fields to the thegn Swein in laen, but had retained most of the woodlands, meadow and pasture.

The stud was located near the stream to the west of the village, closest to Thorrington. As Alan approached he was delighted to see in the fenced-off pasture over two dozen mares with foals at heel, nursing or gamboling about on their long legs. In a larger field were some twenty or so of the Welsh mountain ponies. These, together with others at the other manors, were being retained to provide the means for his warriors to move swiftly. Alan knew that these hardy beasts would need little in the way of facilities or attention.

In the last few months a collection of buildings had been constructed to create the horse establishment. Two cottages, forty stalls, a hay-barn, a small granary for horse-feed, sheds for storage of tack and equipment and a large fenced training enclosure with sand spread thick on the ground. In the enclosure a man was working a horse at longeing with the long-rein, with the horse trotting in a circle and learning to answer commands. In a clear but unfenced area another young horse was being halter-broken, led back and forth by a man holding the halter reins.

Workers, men and women, hurried purposefully as they mucked out stalls, refilled water-troughs, groomed horses, collected droppings and performed the multitude of the other tasks in a stable. A farrier was checking the hooves of a yearling, picking out dirt and stones and trimming one of the fore hooves. Two men, one of them Brunloc, were working ‘backing’ a yearling, one holding the reins as the other quietly flipped a blanket on and off the back of the horse, which was sidling and tossing its head, snorting and whickering. A group of a dozen riders were just returning from an exercise ride, their horses sweaty and blowing.

After dismounting and handing the reins of their mounts to a groom, who then led the horses away, Alan and Osmund walked over to the training enclosure and leaned against the wooden railing as they watched William gently and with patience work the horse, a yearling mare, with voice and arm movements. Whilst he held a long whip, it was not used. After about fifteen minutes Brunloc came over and leaned against the fence next to Alan.

“How good is he?” asked Alan.

Brunloc nodded and said, “He’s good, and so is Ivo. What he’s doing at the moment myself and half a dozen of the men here and at Ramsey could do, working with yearlings and taking them through to being broken for riding at two years of age. You work with each horse every day to get them used to people and instill the basics for building on later. They’re intelligent creatures and very inquisitive. We have to overcome their fears and their automatic ‘flight’ response to run from anything they’re unfamiliar with. That involves making us humans the leader of the herd, somebody to be trusted and followed. That in itself, including breaking them for riding, takes nigh on two years.

“William spends most of his time training the older horses for battle, able to be controlled without using reins and not be frightened of noise or other distractions. He’s training them to use the ‘fight’ part of their ‘fight or flight’ instincts. He started about a month ago and is working with the older horses you bought as mounts for the Wolves. The first batch is more or less finished. Eight are back in the stables at Thorrington, two have been held back for further training and he’s just started on the second batch of ten. It’ll take him at least six months to complete the training of the mature cavalry horses you already have. Between here and Ramsey we have nearly seventy foals born in the last few months, over thirty weanlings from last year and about twenty yearlings. There’s plenty of work for all of us.”

Alan nodded his understanding and asked, “And how did Odin perform?”

“I wish I had his vigour! He can rut for hour after hour! He covered thirty of our best mares. Based on the foals born this season that he sired last season, your desire for big strong beasts with strength, stamina and speed will be more than met. But since the rutting season is over, may I suggest you take him away? He’s a real handful to control. William may be used to that type of horse, but he’s too smart and willful for me!”

Shortly afterwards William of Amiens finished his work with the horse he had been training and walked over to greet the young master he had not yet seen. Reasonably elderly at about thirty-five, he answered Alan’s questions in a respectful but not subservient manner. He described his past experience and his training philosophies, and admitted that he had made the journey to Essex in response to the large stipend offered, twice what his previous employer had paid.

After twenty minutes or so of discussion Alan nodded and waved William towards the chestnut yearling colt that was being held on a halter by a stable lad. The lad had been standing waiting patiently, not so the horse which had been tossing its head restlessly for several minutes.

Alan had been invited by Edward to hunt in the thick woods near the thegn’s manor at Alresford, and had taken with him his page Leof and huscarle Brand, who was enjoying his new status as landowner. Alan had invited Brand and Leof as part of their education process. Edward had also invited Alfward of Tendring and Aelfric of Old Hall, making a hunting party of twenty-two, divided into two groups, with the beaters supplied by Edward. The beaters had been sent deep into the forest before dawn and could now be heard shouting and ringing bells as they advanced through the forest, driving the game towards the waiting hunters. Edward had cheated slightly by erecting some short sections of permanent deer-fencing in what was one of his favourite hunting patches, but not cheated to the extent of erecting Hides. The deer-fencing would restrict and channel the areas through which the game could run.

Alan had handed Leof a boar-spear, a stout spear with a broad metal head, while he and Brand carried strung hunting-bows with a hunting arrow already notched. The spears were for protection against any boar, bear or wolf that may be flushed, although the latter would almost certainly be canny enough to easily avoid the beaters. Archery wasn’t one of Alan’s strong-points and he had little confidence that he would be able to even hit a fast-moving deer, let alone kill it, and he shared the distaste of all hunters of having a wounded animal escape. On such hunts he usually was one of the spear-carriers, but today it made sense for the two youths to carry the spears while the men performed what was expected to be the main activity of deer-hunting.

In the absence of a Hide Alan and his men had selected a patch of bushes for concealment, with an area ahead that was some 30 paces deep and contained only trees and not bushes, allowing a reasonably clear field of fire. Alfward and his men were about 50 paces to their left. The other hunting party with their host Edward was about 200 paces to their right. Part of what the newcomers were being taught today was to maintain situational awareness to minimise the risk of ‘friendly-fire’ injuries. Hunting taught young men a range of martial skills and was not just a social day out. Apart from bonding with their fellows and learning how to keep track of what men were where, they also learned patience, how to move stealthily in a forest, readiness to respond in an instant and to act instantly in mutual support in the event that a dangerous quarry was flushed.

Suddenly, as the shouting beaters drew nearer, a small group of half a dozen deer, led by a stag with magnificent antlers, burst out of the bushes. Alan and Brand each loosed two arrows, all missing, and then the swift-moving animals were out of range. Moments later were shouts of success as Alfward’s party had managed to kill one animal, one archer wounding it and slowing it enough that another could shoot to kill.

Alan turned to Brand and commented, “I can use a sword and you can wield an axe. Neither of us can use a bow!” Brand gave a chuckle in reply.

No further animals appeared and shortly afterwards the beaters could be seen approaching, their brightly-coloured clothing and ringing bells making it clear to the hunters that they were to put down their bows.

The beaters were fed, given a tankard of ale and a brief rest and instructions before they returned to the forest. Edward had provided a sumptuous picnic for the hunters, with smoked spiced meats, cold portions of roasted duck and capon, gammon, cheese and fresh bread, all washed down with wine or ale.

After the meal the hunters moved to another section of forest, to which the beaters had been instructed to move and drive the game. Brand and Leof joined Alfward’s group, while two cheorls, each with an attendant, joined Alan’s group. A short time later the hunters were half a mile away in a different and more densely-vegetated section of forest. Again the beaters could be heard as they approached, although at first it appeared that all the game in the forest had gone to ground and were in hiding. Once again the beaters were following the basic requirement of approaching from downwind of the hunters, so that the prey couldn’t scent the hunters as they waited.

Suddenly, from the bushes some ten paces away appeared a sow with five piglets running close behind, and then a moment later a large boar who had positioned himself between the apparent threat and his mate. The sow and piglets ran past without being molested by the hunters who were following the hunting precept that a female with young was never attacked- based on the requirement to have something to hunt in following years. The boar, however, was another matter and was fair game. The two Englishmen loosed their arrows at him. Alan had more sense and dropped his bow, drawing the sword that he wore at most times he was outside his own Hall, like most men of station. A hunting arrow wasn’t going to stop an enraged boar that was ten paces away. The one arrow that did strike the boar in the shoulder did get his attention, making him turn to directly charge the hunters, which his poor eyesight had previously prevented him from seeing.

With a squeal of fright the two cheorls turned to flee, but one was slightly too slow and the enraged and wounded boar was on him, gouging him from behind with sharp tusks. Alan took a step forward, sword held low. The boar saw the movement and turned ready for another charge. As the beast launched itself forward, Alan crouched ready to allow the animal to impale itself on his sword, intending to then roll clear. At the last moment there was a movement from Alan’s right and Leof interposed himself, spear held low and aimed at the boar’s chest- but with his eyes tightly closed. There was a scream from the boar and then Leof felt himself grasped by the collar and dragged to the side. Alan’s voice in his ear shouted, “Keep your eyes open, and when you’ve stuck him get the fuck out of the way! A dying boar with a spear in the chest can still kill you! Well done, boy!” Alan gave him a gentle buffet on the shoulder and then ruffled his hair. After a moment of thought while he considered the boy’s young age he said, “See Brand on Monday morning and start weapons training. You’ve got the guts to make a fine warrior!”

The injured cheorl gave up the ghost an hour or so later, despite the best efforts of those in the hunting party. Although Alan had tried to assist he wasn’t overly upset about the fate of his fellow-hunter. After all, he hadn’t known the man, who had died not by mischance but due to his own stupidity and cowardice. Alan wasn’t disappointed with the outcome of the hunt. While he had a vague sense of regret about the death of the cheorl, he was satisfied that the day had proven to have had substantial benefit.