WIVENHOE LATE MAY 1067
Alan was roused by the sound of shouting outside the Hall, the call of the guard outside the Hall and the guard’s knocking on the door to gain his attention. It was pitch dark in the middle of the night as Alan disentangled himself from the arms of the still-sleeping Edyth and slipped naked out of bed.
Quickly slipping a tunic on over his head he cursed the coldness of the bare stone floor on his feet as he hurried out into the Hall, where extra torches were being lit and placed in the sconces in the walls and posts. Baldwin, still brushing sleep from his eyes, was sitting next to the remains of the fire, head close to that of a roughly-dressed cheorl.
Seeing Alan’s approach Baldwin rose and said, “This is Aeglaeca. He’s ridden as messenger from Edward of St Osyth. A little after dark a shepherd at Point Clear saw ships in the estuary, rowing north. The wretch couldn’t count them but said that there were more than he had fingers- he probably had his shoes on. It sounds like a Danish or Norwegian raiding party,” he said. “Edward has gathered his men, is fording Brightlingsea Creek and warning Edsel, the King’s Reeve at Brightlingsea, to collect more men and march up the coast, keeping an eye on the ships.”
Alan nodded his understanding. Trading ships didn’t row anywhere. “Rouse all of our men and get them into their chain-mail, and get all the archers here. Ring the church bell, that’ll bring people running! Requisition every horse in the village. A messenger is to ride to Robert fitzWymarc at Colchester at once. That’s probably where they’re heading. Se3d riders to Great Bentley, Tendring, Little Bentley, Cliff Mistley and Bradfield. One rider can do that as they are all in the same direction. Another for Alresford, Frating, Bromley and Elmstead. One for Wyley, Thorp, Kirkly and Clacton. One to Oakley, Ramsey and Dovercourt. I want 100 men at Wivenhoe by dawn, and every man in the Hundred who can carry a spear, sword or even a pitchfork there by mid-afternoon. Move!
“Otha! Hot food for all the men now and trail rations for breakfast. You have half an hour!”
Within minutes the church bell was ringing and men were streaming into the Hall. Some stood shrugging their way into chain-mail vests, others in leather or padded armour. They helped each other with the fastenings and with buckling on arm and leg guards made of boiled leather.
Alan hurried into the Solar, where Edyth helped him into his padded gambeson jacket and then tied the lacings at the back of the chain mail hauberk he slipped on over the top. Alan slipped his poniard knife into his belt and draped the baldric carrying his sword in its leather scabbard over his shoulder. Edyth bound the leather thongs over his woollen trews while he pulled on his riding boots. His green-painted shield, a single handed battle-axe and a green cloak completed his martial array as he strode out into the forecourt.
The forecourt was as active as a nest of ants kicked over. Grooms were leading horses out of stables, some with saddles and tack in place, others still to be attended to. Men dashed back and forth, many still stumbling from either the effects of sleep or the ale that they had drunk the previous evening.
Just 45 minutes after the alarm 68 men rode north. Others were to follow on foot as soon as possible.
It was early on the Wednesday 30th May. The moon provided sufficient light for them to find their way on the dirt track that ran through forest and meadow, the pathway taking them about five miles. As first light began to illuminate the sky at about 3.30am they were 115 strong, including the men collected at Frating and Alresford.
A little over a mile south of Wivenhoe they saw that two of the longships were in the process of beaching themselves on a mudflat while another fourteen continued to row north, oars dipping regularly as they headed into the narrowing estuary towards Colchester on the Colne River. Alan sent a rider hurrying on ahead to raise the alarm at Wivenhoe and to bring all available men able to carry arms.
Alan had his men and horses briefly rest, hidden behind a small rise in the ground, as the raiders began to disembark and wade through the mud towards the shore. Alan dismounted and stood with the rising sun at his back as he surveyed the scene.
There was a clearing some 200 paces wide with stands of trees and thick bushes to each side, on the north and south. The ground rose slowly until it reached the summit of the small mound on which he stood. The village was about a mile to the north, most of that distance covered by forest. It appeared that the raiders wanted to take the village by surprise with a massed charge.
Alan ordered 10 of his light cavalry and 20 archers into the forest on each side of the clearing, together with 15 spearmen and swordsmen on each side in support. Hugh took the right flank and Baldwin the left. This gave Alan 25 men, mainly thegns and their armoured men-at-arms that he had picked up along the way, to hold the front until the men from Wivenhoe arrived. Alan had them place themselves on the reverse side of the slope, lying down to hide their presence. There was muttering and dissent at this, the warriors wanting to stand and challenge their opponents in the traditional way, but Alan insisted on silence, stealth and ambush.
As the raiders struggled out of the mud by the water and onto firm earth the first of the men from Wivenhoe began to arrive in twos and threes and were put amongst the line which was to confront the enemy. Alan had four crossbowmen, who he stationed along the 50-pace wide frontline, when he noticed a thin man of medium height and dark complexion carrying what seemed an unusually long bow and arrows a full yard long. Alan walked towards him and greeted, “God Hael! That looks like a fierce grim weapon! What’s your name, and what can you do with that weapon?”
“As to my name, I’m Owain from Cardiff. As for my friend here, well your crossbowmen can shoot a bolt 200 paces, and if they are good can shoot two bolts a minute. At 200 paces, with no wind like this morning, I can ask you which eye you want me to put this arrow through, and shoot every five seconds.”
Alan clapped the Welshman on the shoulder. “You sound like the answer to my dreams! When we start, I want you to kill every Dane who looks like a leader or who is issuing instructions. Then kill the rest. Kill every mother’s son of them! How many arrows do you have?”
Owain smiled ruefully as he looked at the 100 or so Danes now forming up and starting to march up the clearing. “Not enough! Never mind, I’ll do my share!”
Just then Alan noticed Anne riding up accompanied by ten men. He hurried over, “What in God’s name do you think you are doing here? This is men’s work. You two, take your lady back to the village. You others, join the line.”
“Nay, Sir Knight!’ said Anne with spirit “This is my land and my people. I’ll stay.”
“Goddamn stupid woman!” muttered Alan under his breath, but obviously not quietly enough as Anne flushed with anger. Several of her accompanying warriors scowled; several others nodded agreement with Alan. “Right! Get over there in the trees,” he pointed behind and to one side. “Four men to protect you. That’s four men less I have in the line to fight the Danes. Move! Go now!”
Turning back to the developing battle, Alan saw the Danes were moving in four groups each about 25 strong; they were bunched together and were half way along the clearing, walking as if they hadn’t a care in the world, talking and laughing as they went. Alan moved to kneel on one knee next to Owain. “I want that one with the red cloak at the head of the lead group first, then pick your targets well.”
He raised a trumpet to his lips and blew once. A hail of arrows rose from the forest on each side of the clearing, striking down the unsuspecting raiders. Owain’s first arrow took the leader in the throat and he dropped like a marionette with the strings cut.
Volley after volley of arrows hammered into the ranks of the Danes, who in response turned outwards, resulting in a large inverted V-shaped formation. Owain carefully shot down any man who was trying to organise resistance and the Danes stood shocked and confused, crouching behind their shields. Because there were archers on both flanks the Danes’ shields were little protection as each group facing the trees was vulnerable to attack from behind and many fell with an arrow in the back.
To close the range the archers had stepped out clear of the trees and stood 75 paces away carefully and almost arrogantly selecting their targets. With a hoarse shout about 20 Danish swordsmen broke from the right flank to attack the archers who were galling them from that flank. After shooting two more salvos into the advancing Danes, the archers turned and jogged back into the trees, where their supporting troops were waiting out of sight. The 11 men still remaining from the Danish charge disappeared into the tree-line and were not seen again. Two or three minutes later the archers reappeared and the hail of arrows resumed.
Alan shouted to the men around him and they stood, seeming to rise like wraiths from the ground 70 paces ahead of the Danes, hammered sword and axe on their shields and shouted the ancient battle cry of the English, “Out! Out! Out!” The remaining Danes, now about 60 in number, could not resist the challenge and immediately charged the English line as an uncoordinated mob.
Alan sounded his trumpet again and from the trees on each flank appeared a troop of mounted men-at-arms. They levelled their lances and as one charged the disorganized rabble, hitting them like two fists and punching in both flanks before wheeling to attack the unprotected rear of the Dane’s formation.
The front rank of the Danes had barely reached the English shield-wall when the main body, now only 20 or so strong, routed and ran for the boats. Half a dozen brave or foolish individuals continued to fight and perished in moments on the swords and spears of the English line. When the fighting was over the English warriors broke ranks and pursued the few remaining Danes down the clearing towards the mudflats.
Alan quickly called over Baldwin and instructed him to have the horsemen gallop down to the mud-flat, dismount and capture the boats, each of which held only a handful of guards and were grounded solidly in the mud on the outgoing tide. Moments later the riders were on their way, galloping down the corpse-strewn clearing towards the boats.
“Well, that seemed easy enough,” said a small voice from beside him. Alan turned and saw Anne standing beside him, the top of her head not quite coming up to his shoulder and her long red hair being blown by the breeze that was beginning to spring up. An aged thegn stood next to Anne looking embarrassed.
Alan removed his helmet, holding it by the nasal guard, and pushed back the coif of mail that covered his head so that it fell back around his shoulders, before using the back of his hand to wipe the sweat from his brow. “You’re Wulfgar, aren’t you?” demanded Alan of the thegn, who nodded in reply. “I gave you instructions before, about the protection of your lady. If you were my man, you would now be looking for new employment. When I give you instructions you will follow them, no matter what your lady may say.” Turning to Anne he added, “And you will do what I tell you, at least on the battlefield. Now, if you’ll excuse me I’ll go and stop our men massacring the last of the Danes.”
As he walked away he shouted, “Baldwin! Have our men strip the enemy dead and pile up the arms and armour back there. Any valuables are to be pooled and we’ll share them out tomorrow with the men of Wivenhoe who fought here. Get some men to scour the trees where the fighting took place, tend our wounded and get any dead ready to be sent home for burial.” Turning back he called out to Wulfgar. “Get your geburs to dig a big communal grave for the Danes. I want every sign of this battle removed within the hour. I’ll see you in the village in an hour.”
Including the guards who had been left on the boats, there were 34 able-bodied or slightly wounded Danes rounded up, stripped of weapons and armour and any valuables and standing under guard. All the badly wounded Danes had been finished off by the English by having their throats cut, the captors believing there was no need for the prisoners to suffer unnecessarily from their injuries.
The English archers, including Owain, were roaming the battlefield retrieving their arrows for future use. Alan walked up to Owain as he was cutting one of his arrows out of a dead Dane, threw him a purse of silver pennies as said, “When you’ve finished here, go see the Fletcher and see how many shafts he can make for you before dawn.”
Owain nodded. “This isn’t over yet,” he agreed, slipping the purse into his pocket.
An hour later Alan was satisfied with progress on tidying up the battlefield, although the mass grave was taking longer than it should. The two boats would be re-floated on the rising tide and Alan ordered them to be taken far up Barfleet Creek between Brightlingsea and Thorrington and hidden as well as possible. Four Danish sailors were released to assist under guard.
Alan trotted into Wivenhoe mounted on Odin, who was showing his disappointment at missing out on the morning’s activities by tossing his head and sidling whenever he though Alan’s attention had wandered. Alan gave a jerk of the reins to show his displeasure.
The ride to Wivenhoe took only a few minutes and as he rode onto the village green at the centre of the village Alan was for a moment struck dumb, before he applied his spurs to Odin’s flanks and galloped up to Wulfgar, nearly riding him down in the process. “God’s blood! Are you totally bereft of your senses?” he roared down at Wulfgar from the saddle of the prancing horse. He indicated the village green where soldiers and villagers were mingling, casks of ale had been broached and food was starting to be cooked over open fires, although it was still only mid-morning.
Anne appeared next to Wulfgar, “What is the problem? The men won a singular victory. Wulfgar told me that it was the best piece of generalship he has ever seen. Since he saw Harold at Stamford Bridge, that’s no mean compliment! The men are entitled to their celebration.”
Alan looked at the two of them in amasement. “You really don’t understand, do you? Either of you? Lady Anne I can understand, but you should know better, Wulfgar. She may be unfrod and inexperienced but you must be ungleaw and stupid.” In reply to their puzzled expressions he continued speaking slowly as if to village idiots. “Fourteen ships rowed north towards Colchester this morning. They’re probably arriving there about now. I sent a rider to fitzWymarc, so I expect that the fyrd will have been called in, the gates closed and the walls manned. A raiding party that small is unlikely to be able to take Colchester by storm except by unexpected attack. What do you expect they will then do? Simply disappear like magic? If they can’t take Colchester, they’ll plunder and burn every village they can reach from the river in Lexden Hundred and Winstree Hundred to the north and west- Mile End, Dayneland, Beer Church, Fingringhoe- to get what they can to make the expedition worthwhile. And sitting on the east side of the river is Wivenhoe, all by itself. And you want our warriors to celebrate and drink until they become incapable? There’ll be 800 Danes coming back down that river, possibly late today but more likely tomorrow or the day after. They won’t be coming to pay a social visit. They’ll be here to pillage, burn, kill and rape.
“You need to be calling in every member of the fyrd and every man who can hold a knife. I expect to have 200 more men from Tendring Hundred here by nightfall- they’re marching in on foot. If I don’t, we’ll have some new thegns next week! After we have beaten the Danes when they come back down river, if we beat them, then you can celebrate.”
Alan stalked off muttering to himself and found Baldwin, who had his men well in hand and had restricted them to a pint of ale each. Alan gave permission for the men to take off their armour and rest after the long night and busy morning, and to receive a second pint of ale. As Baldwin helped Alan out of his hauberk and gambeson he gave a report on the losses for the morning’s battle. Three dead and one wounded amongst the archers; four dead spearmen and one injured; one dead swordsmen; one dead horseman and one with a severe leg wound. There were a number of minor injuries that would not prevent the men fighting again. Several of the villagers were dead or injured, but he had no details.
It was mid-afternoon when he walked out to the village green and greeted the men lounging in the shade of the trees. All had armour and weapons close by. Rolling up a bundle of cloth as a pillow, Alan lay down to get several hours sleep. It was nearly dark when he roused, stood and sought out Baldwin, who had been dealing with the arriving warriors. Hugh had arrived with the levies and men from Ramsey, Dovercourt and Great Oakley. Sending Baldwin for a rest Alan met with the Tendring thegns and had Baldwin distribute to the thegns’ retainers and fyrdmen the 100 or so chain-mail byrnies, swords, axes and shields that had been taken that morning, although most went to his own men.
He also sent a message rider to Thorrington and Brightlingsea, the latter to advise of the probable risk of immediate attack, and also to St Osyth to tell the inhabitants to be ready to evacuate the village and drive their animals into the forest if the invaders appeared on the sea.
Wivenhoe had a sandy beach with a wharf able to accommodate two ships, the village itself being built 500 yards inland on higher ground to prevent inundation on high tides or floods. There was woodland to the north and south, leaving an area about 500 yards wide clear between the village and the water.
The peasants were put to work digging long thin trenches in the wet low-lying ground about 100 paces from the edge of the village. The spoil was removed and placed as a breast-work just before the houses, sharp stakes were placed in the trenches and the cut sods carefully replaced over a network of thin branches over the trenches.
Men continued to trickle in from the east and south and Alan was overjoyed when four wagons arrived heavily loaded from Thorrington. Calling a group of peasants together he soon had them clearing a patch of trees and bushes at the edge of the northern section of woodland, stacking cut branches and shrubs to one side. The wagons were manoeuvred over to the cleared area and huge balks of timber and lengths of rope were unloaded, along with a giant cauldron and a number of barrels.
The wagons then rolled away and returned a little later loaded with rocks the size of a man’s head or a little larger, which were stacked between the piles of wood. There was also a small pile of about twenty hollow baked ceramic balls, each the size of a man’s head and each with a small hole at one end. As Anne walked up to see what the excitement was about, Alan and half a dozen men were fitting pieces of wood together and knocking wooden dowels in place with wooden mallets. The first machine was nearly complete, a large square of heavy timber with two upright posts, the rear post attached to a crosspiece onto which two men were currently tightly winding rope. The shorter front post was padded, thicker and not as high as the rear post. The length of the whole contraption was about fifteen feet and it was half that wide and high. Two of the men started to assemble the second machine as Anne arrived.
“What on earth are they?” she asked in puzzlement.
“Onagers,” replied Alan briefly. “They throw rocks and stuff,” he grunted as he increased tension on the rope. “These spokes twist the central skein of rope, which provides a force vector that causes the central beam to whip up and throw the object. I’ve already tested these two to throw a large rock 500 paces. This time I’ve replaced the sling with a sort of spoon, because I’m a nasty bastard.”
A workman carefully measuring amounts of different powders into a large cauldron gave a hearty laugh. “Greek Fire,” explained Alan. “Well… not really. It would perhaps be more accurate to refer to it as the ancients did and call it ‘Wildfire’. The Byzantines have been using Greek Fire in warfare for over 100 years, but the formula is a closely guarded secret. The Greeks and Romans used incendiaries based on naphtha. This is naphtha with the addition of some extra substances such as tree resin to thicken it, also nitre and sulphur. We heat it in the cauldron, then we add quicklime and pour it into the baked clay ball. Then we put the ball in the cage on the spoon-shaped container at the end of the moving beam, light it and pull the trigger. The result is barbequed Dane.” The workman gave a nasty snigger.
Anne looked none the wiser for the brief explanation and asked, “If it’s a military secret, how do you know about it?”
Alan looked up from carefully checking the consistency of the mixture as it was heated. “As I said, the use of naphtha to burn down gates and so on has been happening for over a thousand years. When I was studying in Paris I shared rooms with a man who was determined to try to discover the secret of Greek Fire and he did a lot of research and experiments. He intended to sell the formula to the king of France. I helped him sometimes. He added different substances to naphtha to see what the results were.”
“And was he successful?”
“Possibly. Indeed, I’d say probably, given that he blew up his laboratory and himself and caused a huge fire that burned down a number of buildings. At that time he was working on the problem of making the mixture self-combust. Fortunately, I was away visiting my family when he found the answer, or I’d have shared his fate. From that I learned to conduct such experiments outdoors and with very small quantities. What I have isn’t quite Greek Fire, as it can’t be pumped out of a hose and is quite unstable, but it does the job well enough for my purposes.”
When the second onager was completed Alan tested both, adjusting the tension on the ropes and lobbed half a dozen practice rounds of rock at various targets until he was satisfied with the setup. The practice rocks were retrieved and put back in the pile ready for use.
“What makes you so sure they’ll come to our village?” asked Anne.
“The same reason they came this morning- because you are here. A prosperous village, with men and women to seize and carry off as slaves, after they’ve had their fun with the younger women.” Anne blushed. “They’re just up the river and they’ll come just as sure as bees are drawn to a honey-pot, whether they win or lose at Colchester.”
It was now fully dark and Alan retired to the village green to sleep in the open with his men, declining Anne’s offer of a bed in the Hall.
Next morning dawned clear and bright, promising a hot summer’s day. Alan had had the village Fletcher up all night making arrows, and the blacksmith and his apprentice making spearheads. Now each village peasant could fashion himself a spear by cutting a suitable sturdy sapling and attach the newly-made spearhead. With this and the seax knife that each man owned as a mark of their free status, all would now be reasonably well armed.
Gimm, Alan’s young armourer, had arrived and was doing the rounds making small repairs and adjustments to chain mail armour and helmets, particularly those captured the day before and now being used against their former owners. Alan told the men soon after dawn that they could remove their armour. The day was hot and with the coming of light they would have sufficient warning of the approach of an enemy to have time to don their equipment and deploy.
Most of the thegns were giving their under-trained and ill-prepared fyrd members long overdue weapons training, both in individual skills and, particularly in the case of the spearmen, how to fight as a group. Alan, Hugh and Baldwin each gave several lessons on basic techniques to those who had received a sword or battle-axe for the first time after yesterday morning’s battle.
The day dragged on slowly. Most of the men sat in the shade and either dozed or pretended to do so. Others constantly fiddled with their equipment. The priest was kept busy hearing confessions in the small church and held Mass at mid-day on the village green. The archers set up make-shift targets and spent most of the afternoon in practice for small wagers. Small groups of warriors played dice or knucklebones. Anne kept local wenches circulating with food and water but, remembering Alan’s comments of the day before, no alcohol.
In the late afternoon Wulfgar walked up to where Alan was lying in the shade on his back with a broad-brimmed hat over his face. “Come and have a look at this,” he said abruptly, before walking off towards the river- carefully avoiding the traps that had been dug. Alan followed and as they neared the river Wulfgar pointed to a long thick pall of smoke that was rising about three miles away to the west, on the other side of the river. “That was the village of Dayneland,” he commented sourly.
“And we are next in the morning,” replied Alan. “It’s a late moon tonight. Have the men stand to in their full armour, in their proper positions when the moon rises. Post guards. The rest of the men can sleep, if they can, in their armour. You’ve shown Lady Anne this portend?” Wulfgar nodded. “It’ll be a big day tomorrow,” commented Alan as they walked back to the village.
Wulfgar grunted his agreement and uttered the traditional prayer of those who lived in the shadow of the longship, “God protect us all from the fury of the Norsemen.”
On the way back to the village Alan checked one of the traps that had been dug. Given the low-lying nature of the ground he wasn’t surprised to find it nearly full of water. He wasn’t concerned, as a six foot wide six foot deep trench full of water would be just as hard to get past as an empty trench with sharpened staves at the bottom, if not more so.
Alan had slept, or at least tried to sleep, in full armour before and was not surprised to find that night that this had not become any easier in recent years. Still, it was better than having the enemy sneak up on you while your armour was still in the wagons- or in the case for the Norwegians at Stamford Bridge several miles away on the boats. Like most of the others Alan had snatched only a few moments rest by the time the sergeants came around rousing the men as the moon rose a little after two in the morning, Bread, cheese, cold meat and water were handed around. The men buckled on their equipment and placed shield, sword or spear ready to hand.
For once Alan was glad about the early sunrise time. First light was a little after three in the morning and the sun rose into a clear sky a few minutes before four. Alan and his small band of ‘technicians’ checked the onagers and wiped moisture off the torsion ropes. Fresh dry kindling was placed under the large copper cauldron. The camouflage bushes and branches were put in place.
“Do you expect it to be over as quick as two days ago?” asked a small voice by Alan’s shoulder.
“You really can’t do what you are told, can you?” he replied with mock severity “I told Wulfgar to tie you to the table in your Hall.”
“I have a very engaging personality,” replied Anne with a smile “And I threatened to cut his balls off if he didn’t let me out. As you will see I have six warriors to look after me.”
Alan sighed. “Six against 600 or more. Still, you’ll be as safe here as anywhere, with the men I’ve positioned to protect the onagers. To answer your original question, no, it won’t be as quick as two days ago. That was a simple ambush against an unsuspecting opponent. But if the fight isn’t over within two hours, we’ll lose.”
“But why? We have a good defensive position, thanks to your efforts. Wulfgar tells me we have nearly 500 men, with you bringing the full strength of Tendring Hundred. Why can’t we beat them?”
“I didn’t say that we can’t beat them, but I’m afraid Wulfgar has been saying what he thinks you want to hear. There’ll probably be maybe 800 Danes- every one a trained warrior. Yes, we have 500 men, including 25 armoured horsemen and 40, slightly less than that now, archers. The thegns and a few huscarles and perhaps another 100 men have some knowledge and skill with sword, battle-axe or spear, but who won’t be as competent and well-trained as the Danes. The rest are farmers who were given a spear yesterday and have had two or three hours training. Man for man it will be absolute murder, with us on the losing side. We need surprise, tactics, the traps we have dug- and my little friends here,” patting the side of one of the onagers. “Maybe we have a chance, if they work as well as I expect”.
“You’ve never used them before?”
“No. Nor, as far as I am aware has anybody else for hundreds of years. Hopefully what’s in the books will work as well as I expect.”
“Err… I’m sorry, but that doesn’t fill me with confidence. These are my people,” said Anne.
“And mine, although not my village. One of the things I believe is to learn from the past. I know what to do today because I have studied the Romans, particularly Vegetius. The Danes will come in simple and dumb, doing what they’ve done for the past 200 years. They’ll all be infantry and will charge straight up the centre, the same as we barbarians did in Vegetius’ time. I’ll give them a lesson in ancient history and we’ll win. Or if it doesn’t work, we’ll all die. Or those that don’t die will wish they had. Take your pick.”
“I’ll join the ladies praying at the church. Perhaps intervention from Almighty God will assist us.”
“I’ll not turn down any assistance, particularly of a divine nature. I just don’t intend to rely on it. The Romans said ‘All things being equal, the Gods are on the side of the larger army’. I hope my engines here make things unequal!”
About an hour after dawn word came from the observers posted slightly upriver that a fleet of boats was proceeding downstream on the last of the outgoing tide. Further information was relayed as the boats came closer. A dozen longships and four trading cogs, at least one of which an observer recognised as being home-ported at Colchester, and he thought the other cogs were also.
Reports were brought regularly by runners and then the small fleet came into view around a small promontory. Several longboats gathered in a cluster for about ten minutes, no doubt as instructions were passed. Then eight longboats turned and started to row towards the shore. The four others and the trading cogs then continued on slowly southwards.
“Where do you think they are going?” asked Anne.
“Probably Brightlingsea,” replied Alan with some distraction. “Edsel, the King’s Reeve, knows raiders are about. Edward of St Osyth warned him on his way here. Edsel refused to send any men here, claiming as King’s Reeve I have no jurisdiction over him. He can look after himself for the time being! We may be able to provide help later, although I doubt it.”
Alan looked carefully at his preparations. The signs of the water-filled traps were visible only to those who knew where and what to look for. The warriors in the forests to the north and south of the clearing were carefully hidden, well back amongst the trees and bushes and either lying or crouched down. Alan could see where the bushes on the southern forest had been cleared to allow the horsemen relatively free passage when the time came for them to emerge, but of the horses and men themselves there was no sign.
The village appeared deserted, with the 150 or so men tasked with its defence carefully hidden behind or inside the houses and barns on the western edge of the village. The only incongruities were the apparently abandoned nature of the village and several wagons tipped on their sides at the edge of the village just to the south of centre, at the point where the traps would channel the Danish attack. The range-marking sticks that Alan had inserted at measured distances could be clearly seen but showed no apparent purpose or danger.
All the livestock, all the children and most of the women were hiding deep in the forest about a mile east of the village, although a few of the braver women had insisted on staying to support their men and to provide succour to the wounded. The small church and several barns to the east of the village had been prepared to receive the inevitable casualties.
“Light the cauldron,” Alan instructed his men. Moments later flames were flickering about its base and one of the men began to carefully stir the mixture that began to turn to a thick viscous liquid.
The eight longships carefully approached the landing place, each dropping an anchor behind it in deeper water before they slowly rowed up and carefully beached their ships bows-on to the shore. Men jumped over the bows of the ships and waded through the shallow water to the beach where they began to form up. There were a lot of them. As each ship emptied, the small anchor-crew remaining on board winched the ship back into deeper water by using a vindass winding pole, so each boat floated about thirty yards from the beach, free of risk of attack from men on the land.
The Danes formed up. There were eight groups each of about 75 men. At a command they began to move towards the village, the groups spread out in the middle part of the clearing on a front perhaps 300 paces wide.
Thegn Alric, who was in command of the troops on the English right flank, muttered to Alan, “I hope your plan works as well as the other day- there’s well over 600 of them, perhaps as many as 800.”
“But we have parity of numbers and our people are fighting for their homes and families,” objected Anne.
Alric snorted in apparent bitter amusement. “Equal numbers yes, but in a straight fight they would crush us in less than an hour. Most of them are full-time professional warriors. We have some part-timers with some degree of training and a bunch of farm-boys straight from the plough. Oh, they’ll fight, no doubt about that! But in a straight battle the Danes will go through us like a hot knife through butter. Let’s hope that Alan’s concept of so-called ‘combined arms’ works.”
As the enormity and peril of the situation became clear to her Anne’s brow creased with a frown of anxiety.
“Now, if my lady would kindly shut up, we can concentrate on what we are doing. In this plan, timing is everything,” said Alan rudely. Shooting Alan a look of dislike Anne fell silent.
The was still no movement in the village and some of the Danes could be seen chatting amongst themselves as they strode forward. “They’re paying absolutely no attention to their flanks. They’re wide open,” commented Alan dispassionately. He turned to the men behind him. “They are 200 paces from the village. Load the onagers with rocks and fill the fire-bombs.” Two men started to carefully ladle the heated mixture into the baked balls using a funnel.
“They’re now 150 paces away,” commented Alric. “I’ll join my men, as the fun is about to start!”
Suddenly, at 125 paces, the front rank of Danes abruptly disappeared as the seemingly solid ground game way under them. Those behind tried to stop, but many more were forced over the edge of the pits by the pressure of the men behind them who were unaware of the problem.
Weighed down by their armour, those who had fallen into the pits, except two or three exceptionally tall individuals, drowned in moments. At the same instant the men who had been in hiding in the village suddenly sprinted to their assigned positions along the central front.
The archers who had been hiding behind the overturned wagons stepped clear and began to rain death down on the exposed Danes, many of whom where now milling around in confusion. Alan estimated that at least 80 Danes had perished within a minute or two, with not a blow struck. Only in the centre, free of traps, could the Danes continue to advance, and they did so seemingly oblivious to the collapse of both flanks.
Alan had concentrated the archers and the best of the infantry at that point and as the English hurriedly formed up the Danes opposite let out hoarse battle cries and ran at the English line. They hit with a clash that could clearly be heard over the battlefield and began to hack and slash with sword and battle-axe. The English stood firm, shield to shield, the spears from the fyrdmen and farmers in the second rank stabbing forward at every opportunity. In several places Danes, either individually or in small groups broke through, mainly by the use of massive swings of their double-handed battle-axes smashing through shields and helmets and cleaving deep into the bodies of the Englishmen. In the course of a few minutes the 200 or so Englishmen holding the centre were being hard pressed by the 100 Danes that had so far reached the line.
In the meantime those Danes on each side of the centre were being channelled towards the centre by the traps. Their way forward being blocked by the traps, they followed the natural course of moving towards the open area. Alan waved to Alric, who unleashed the 75 men under his command, mainly spearmen, at the enemy left flank.
With most of the Danes facing towards the centre this unexpected attack on the unprotect flank took them by surprise, many falling to a spear in the back before they turned to face their attackers while continuing to fall back on the centre. At the same time Hugh and Baldwin sallied forth with the horsemen and a force of infantry on the other flank, again catching the Danes unprepared and disorganized. Using their lances, in two brutal charges the few horsemen smashed the right flank of the enemy, leaving 30 or more Danes dead and dying and punching the right flank towards the centre.
The Danes were not giving up and warriors turned to form shield-walls to protect both flanks, while others continued to stream forward to engage the English line. At the moment the Danes were in two groups. About 100 or so men were engaging the English line and a second much larger group was 100 paces back but striving to get themselves into some sort of order to continue the fight.
Alan turned and said to the men at his side. “Loose!” Two large rocks sailed through the air and thumped into the congested ranks of the Danes at the centre of the battlefield, those who had not had a chance to close with the English line. The rocks killed or injured perhaps half a dozen men. Alan estimated there were probably close to 350 of them bunched together and that they would overcome their surprise and shock within minutes and again become an effective fighting force instead of the disorganized rabble they were at this moment. This group was still 100 paces from the English line and level with the water traps. “Load fire-bombs!” instructed Alan.
The English forces attacking the flanks of the Danes had seen the two initial projectiles land and quickly fell back towards the trees from which they had appeared. “Loose!” ordered Alan.
Again two projectiles were launched. This time the result was dramatically different. As the English engineers were already reloading, the salvo rose through the air and then hit the ground close to middle of the group of Danes. Shattering on impact each ball splashed liquid in an oval shape over an area fifteen paces long by ten wide, the thick liquid sticking to whatever it touched. With a white flash so bright that it hurt the eyes even on this sunny morning, the oxidisers in the mixture spontaneously ignited.
Over thirty men were instantly immolated. Others, burning like human torches, ran screaming in agony, some throwing themselves into the water traps to try to put out the fire. But water does not put out Wildfire and the phosphorus continued to burn underwater as the Danes sank to the bottom of the water-filled trenches, dragged down by the weight of their armour. Soon strange white glowing shapes lay at the bottom of the water traps, still burning. Those splashed with just a few drops of the liquid dropped their weapons and screamed as the fire burned through armour, flesh and bone. A horrible sweet stench of burning flesh competed with the acrid fumes of the burning chemicals.
The onagers fired four times more before the remaining Danes, terrified and with their nerve totally broken, routed and ran for the beach, dropping shields and weapons as they ran. The centre of the clearing which moments before had been a mass of Danish raiders was ablaze with sheets of fire and thick clouds of black smoke, “Target right! Aim at the ships, distance say 550 paces, but DO NOT fire,” instructed Alan. “Sweet Jesus and Mary! What have I done? May God forgive me!” he said with a tremor in his voice as he surveyed the utter devastation at the point where the Danes had sought to stand. “You! Watch the cauldron of Wildfire and kill the heating-fire. If we’re not very careful what happened out there will happen here!”
Danes who had engaged the English line were stepping back and lowering their weapons, calling for truce. They numbered about 50 men. Perhaps a further 150 had reached the beach and several of the ships were rowing in to pick them up.
With half a dozen careful shots from the onagers Alan made it clear that the ships were neither to advance to the shore, nor were they permitted to withdraw and flee. Patches of burning naphtha floated on the water, well clear of the ships but eloquently making his point.
The English were disarming those Danes who had surrendered at the line. Alan walked over to Odin, who was tethered to a nearby tree and showing signs of frustration at missing out on yet another battle. Mounting, Alan indicated to Alric to join him and waved to get Hugh and Baldwin’s attention, pointing to himself and then the group of Danes gathered on the beach. He met up with the cavalry 100 paces from where the Danes stood and the squadron slowly trotted towards the enemy. The rest of the English host of infantry also moved forward but kept its distance when waved away by Alan. Alan and the cavalry halted ten paces from the front rank of the Danes.
“Who commands here?” he demanded. There was some discussion amongst the Danes to discover who of any rank remained before two men stepped forward. “I offer you surrender on terms,” said Alan. You can accept those terms or I will again call down the fire from the sky, killing each one of you most painfully and destroying your ships. What say you?”
The elder of the two leaders shrugged “I am Sven Ericsson of Aarlberg. This is Henryk of Flensberg. State your terms, although I see little choice other than acceptance or death,” he said.
Alan had some difficulty in understanding the Dane, although the common elements of Anglo-Saxon allowed him to gain the gist of what had been said in Danish. Anne trotted up on her white palfrey and placed herself next to Alan.
“I can speak Danish. Tell me what you want,” she said.
Alan pointed to the Dane. “He’s Sven Ericsson of Aalberg and seems to be the surviving leader. Firstly, they are to disarm. Weapons piled there, armour there. Any valuables on a pile there. Any man who keeps so much as a knife used for cutting toenails will be summarily put to death. After that they re-group. Please explain that to them.”
Anne passed on the instructions and the Danes formed lines to begin to divest themselves of their weapons and then were searched as they moved away. While they were doing that Alan asked Anne to arrange food and drink both for the victors and the vanquished. This time two quarts of ale per man for the Englishmen were allowed. The Danes could make do with water and be thankful. Anne gave instructions to one of her villagers, who hurried off. Alan looked up at the sky. “It’s still only mid-morning! It feels like the end of a long day,” he commented.
“Was Hastings like this?” asked Anne as the long line of Danes slowly shuffled forward.
Alan snorted. “No. That was my first battle and I learned a lot that day, mainly about what not to do. Probably the two greatest generals of our time were involved and they produced a blood-bath that seemingly lasted forever. There was a lake of blood at the bottom of the hill by the end of the day. Harold and the English occupied a strong position on top of a small hill, with steep sloping ground and trees to each side protecting their flanks. There were small brooks and marshy land at the bottom of the hill. We had no room to manoeuvre, which is what our form of combat is based on. Mounted charges uphill against a shield-wall protected by spears is a good way to get your cavalry killed.
“We started fighting at mid-morning and were still fighting in the dark as night fell. That was a simple battle of attrition and we managed to kill enough Englishmen to get some knights up onto the ridge and turn the flank, rolling up the shield-wall from one side. Until Harold fell when some of our knights broke through his bodyguard and cut him down, the battle could have gone either way. There were several similarities Both forces were about equal in number, one with a good defensive position but a large number of untrained troops. One with archers and cavalry, although my 25 horsemen here hardly count, and the other without.”
By now the Danes were back in a group on the beach, perhaps 250 men remaining alive and unwounded. The tide was coming in and Alan had the prisoners moved under guard slightly closer to the village. Most had worn tunics under their armour but many were naked to the waist. They were told to sit down and bread and water was handed out.
Alan instructed Sven, who was wearing a rust-stained tunic, to order the ships to come in and beach one by one and for the crews to disarm. Each ship contained about half a dozen men. The ships contained sacks of valuables, silver coins, silver and gold jewellery and articles, glass beads, more weapons, all apparently plundered from the English over the last few days of looting. And there were nearly 100 English captives, mainly young men and women but some children of both sexes also. They wore dazed, blank and bewildered looks; most were clearly in shock over what they had endured.
Anne took the rescued people immediately to the village and placed them in the care of the village women who had by now returned. The two other groups of captured Danes, the group from the fighting near the village and the group of survivors from the ambush two days before, were escorted to join the other prisoners. Without counting them Alan estimated that there were over 250 men sitting on the wet sand. They were surrounded by 40 archers, each bowman with an arrow notched in his bow and just waiting for a chance to use it, and about 40 swordsmen and spearmen. Alan found one of the sailors named Bjorn spoke good English and took him with him when he went back to see Sven. Between the various groups it appeared that five of their lesser leaders or chiefs had survived.
“You all know the penalties for foreigners caught raiding?” said Alan abruptly to the group of chiefs, who were sitting together. All three of the principal chiefs had perished in the fighting that morning. “The rich ones are offered the opportunity for ransom. The poor are either hung or sold as slaves. None of you look wealthy enough to bother ransoming. But you did surrender when I offered you terms, so I’m prepared to be generous if you do what I say. Eight ships sailed south-east along the coast several hours ago, four long-boats and four captured cogs. What were they carrying and where were they going?”
It took several minutes to sort out the answers. Where was quickly resolved- they were to wait for the other ships near Brightlingsea. No attack was to be made by them as they carried virtually no warriors, being packed with captives and loot plundered, including much of the contents of the warehouses by the wharf at Colchester.
It transpired that just what the ships carried nobody really knew, as items had been seized and stuffed into the ships indiscriminately. They would not be expecting the attackers of Wivenhoe until at least the next day as the attackers had anticipated taking their time enjoying what they could in the village and had not expected to be in any condition to sail until mid-day the next day at the earliest.
Instructing Hugh to maintain a close guard on the prisoners, Alan walked back towards the village, where those Englishmen who were not guarding the prisoners had gathered. Walking back through the field of death, when he reached the place where the Wildfire had landed Alan was sickened by what he saw and smelt.
Lying on large patches of burnt, charred grass were the horribly burnt remains of hundreds of men. Some had been totally incinerated, with little more than piles of ashes. Others were seared so that, while they still retained human form, their features and most of their flesh had been burnt away. Still others appeared largely intact but had died from having legs or arms burnt away. Many of the bodies continued to smoulder, filling the air with the stench of burnt flesh. Swords and helmets lay twisted and distorted by the heat.
Tears of anguish were running down Alan’s face as he walked into the village and saw a group of Danish injured, many with horrible burns, sitting and largely being ignored by the English. Beside the small wooden church was a line of English dead, with the local priest Father Ator on his knees half way down the line, providing last rites to the dead. Alan counted 47, mainly wearing the rough clothing of cheorls and peasants.
Alan saw Anne sitting on the ground with a group of women and children who had been rescued. As he approached he was embarrassed as many, clearly recognising his air of authority and quality of equipment, stood to kiss his hand in appreciation. Time and time again he asked them to sit. Anne and another woman helped him out of his hauberk, struggling with its forty-pound weight. Underneath his gambeson and tunic were soaked with sweat and he stank.
He sat tiredly on the ground and wiped his face with a wet cloth that one of the women in the group brought him. “My God that was terrible! I’ll never be able to do that again. May God forgive what I have done! I never thought that the consequences would be like that. What can we do to help the badly burned Danes?”
“Nothing!” said Anne fiercely. “Do nothing! It is God’s punishment for what they have done! Let them all die as slowly and as painfully as possible. Listen now.” She had the rescued English tell their stories of the attacks on Mile End, Dayneland, Beer Church, Fingringhoe and other smaller settlements. The attacks were made without warning, the men who tried to resist cut down without a moment’s hesitation. Wanton murder and rape. Women were now widows, children orphans who had seen both parents killed, elder sisters as young as eight repeatedly raped and then their throats cut. Torture and every kind of wickedness. One of the pagan Danish leaders, killed in the fires that morning, had proclaimed himself in league with the Devil and had impaled every thegn or person of nobility to die a slow death while their womenfolk and children were raped and killed in front of them. Many of the women and children sat in shock, staring into the distance and rocking back and forth. The women and children of Wivenhoe did what they could to give comfort, holding and cuddling children, holding the hands of women and wiping away their tears.
Feeling humbled and ashamed of his own self-centeredness Alan walked over to the much smaller group of rescued young men. Again, most were in shock, many having witnessed the death of close family members- parents, spouses, children, brothers and sisters. Almost all blamed themselves for not doing more and were ashamed of their own survival. In their own rough way the village menfolk were trying to help by listening to the stories, sympathizing and using the universal panacea of alcohol, in the form of strong mead and cider.
Alan instructed Baldwin to make sure that sufficient men stayed sober to take over guard duty every six hours, and that the fighting men stayed reasonably sober as most would be marching next day. He then went to the barns where the injured English had been placed and the women had done what they could to make them comfortable. Later, numb with exhaustion, he accepted Anne’s offer of hospitality at her Hall. He fell asleep sitting up at the table with a half-finished cup of wine in his hand. He woke to find himself washed, in clean clothes and lying on the bed in the main bedchamber. By himself.
After wearily rubbing his eyes he pulled on his boots and entered the Hall. Most of the thegns were presently sitting at the head table quietly quaffing ale. Several had bandages around arms and heads. Edwold had his arm in a sling.
There was no euphoria at the victory and the mood could best be described as quiet satisfaction. Too many on both sides had died and Alan could sense an undertone of dissatisfaction at the use of the Wildfire, despite its central part in the victory. It was felt too modern and unprofessional. Alric expressed it all for them as Alan sat down and took a pint of ale and a slice of cold meat pie. “So that’s the future of warfare, hey? Perhaps it’s time for me to retire and sit in front of my fire and leave this sort of thing to you more educated men.”
Alan waved his ale mug. “Not the future of warfare, but its past! I reached 500 years into the past to pull out the answer we needed to win today. You’ve heard the stories about what those Danes did over the last four or five days. They won’t do that again. I had thought, after they surrendered, of releasing them on parole not to return to England again and to give them two of the boats, but not after I heard those stories.
“I promised them mercy, so I won’t hang them. They’ll become slaves, but I suggest we sell them in London, Norwich, Nottingham and York. I don’t want Danish ex-warrior slaves with access to sharp farming implements walking around my estates. Divide them into four groups, hobbled together in a coffle. Three or four of each of you provide an escort to guard them, at least a dozen guards per coffle under a responsible man. Alric, Edwold, Edgard, Swein, Godfrith, Aelfweald, Edward, Cuthbert, Toli, Leofwine and Wade. Also Lady Anne’s thegns Aelfhare, Aethelwulf, Esmund and Wulfgar.”
“Aelfhare died fighting on the line today,” said Alric.
Alan crossed himself and spoke a quiet prayer to himself before continuing. “The head-money will be shared between the sixteen of you, including Aelfhare’s family. That would be about 6,000 shillings?” Alan looked across at Osmund and shouted, “Have you finished accounting what is in those ships and the pile of valuables yet?”
Osmund walked over with a piece of parchment and a quill. “It’s hard to be accurate, since I’m not sure of the values of all of the goods, or the jewels and so on. My best guess is about 12,000 shillings. Hugh has got it all under guard. Also he’s had the prisoners busy tidying the battlefield. He’s had all the trenches dredged to recover the bodies and the weapons at the bottom of the water and put those with the other weapons. All of the burnt and dead bodies he’s had dumped in two of the trenches and filled them in as mass graves- the Danes that is,” Osmund quickly corrected himself. “The dead from Wivenhoe will be buried in the churchyard here tomorrow, and each detachment will take its own dead home when they leave.”
Alan borrowed Osmund’s parchment and quill and made some quick calculations. “We’ll give each man five shillings, cash on the nail before they go. Not tonight, otherwise they’ll start gambling. 100 shillings for each man wounded who has lost a hand, foot or limb, and 100 to any widow whose man has either died so far, or who dies of his injuries. Two shillings to each of the Wivenhoe peasants who took part in the fighting.” Alan realised that even such small sums were a princely reward for poor men.
“Osmund, reserve enough to pay the men when they leave tomorrow morning, except my own men who I’ll pay when we get back to Thorrington. The rest, and the captured arms, we’ll distribute in one week from today in Thorrington to the thegns to use as they see fit. Hugh! Load the rest of the valuables and all the arms and armour into two of the longboats. Get the prisoners filling in the rest of the trenches. We don’t want the local children or drunks falling in and drowning. Break down the onagers, load them on the wagons and send them back to Thorrington. Already done? Good. I’ll have a word to you outside in a minute.”
As the thegns hurried out to do his bidding Alan saw that Anne had been sitting at the table, hidden behind the bulk of some of the men. “You always know what you want, don’t you?” she asked quietly.
“Mostly, but I usually don’t get it, not until the last few months at least,” he said giving her a meaningful glance. “Thank you for the bath, clothes and use of the bed. I hope that you also got some sleep?”
“My pleasure, or at least that of my fifty-year old housekeeper, who said she was most impressed with what she saw when bathing you.” A slight blush indicated that perhaps the attention had been slightly more personal than that. “And as for sleep, yes I had several hours on top of the bed next to you, with a maid in attendance of course. So perhaps one could say that we have slept together?”
Alan gave a hearty laugh before settling down with a sigh. “To business! There are four ships off Brightlingsea, holding more captives than we rescued this morning. I intend to take those ships tonight. Will you come with us and supervise the care of the captives once they are released? I don’t anticipate any significant danger. If you have any sailors or fishermen who are used to handling boats I’d appreciate it if you could lend them to me.”
Anne also returned to seriousness and nodded her acquiescence. “When do we leave?” she asked.
“It’s about four in the afternoon, isn’t it? I want to get started as soon as possible, so we come on the ships at about midnight.”
“Then we had best both get busy!” said Anne rising and calling for her steward Wybert.
Alan spotted Owain sitting on a nearby bench, tuning a lyre and walked over to him. “We haven’t had a chance to talk as I’d like. I’ll be taking a short boat trip in a few minutes, would you care to join me? Bring that longbow of yours.”
Owain raised eyebrows his eyebrows. “More action?” he asked in his lilting Welsh accent. “You seem like a man who can’t stop fighting. To be sure, I’d be glad to accompany you. Just I’m not going to do any rowing! I’ll get my bow and meet you at the beach.”
Alan interviewed the sailors from the Danish ships they had captured. They were 63 in number, about half Danes and the rest a mixture of Norwegians, Swedes, Germans, Finns and Icelanders, with a few Scots, two Russians, an Irishman and two Englishmen. Most had been hired for this expedition, although most of the Danes had sailed for the same chiefs before. Some had wives and families in their country of origin, but most were young and unattached. He chose 22 men from the non-Danes he felt he could trust, and offered them ongoing employment on the ships that he now possessed, promising housing and relocation to those with families. Anne had recommended seven local ex-sailors and two fishermen who could steer boats and who could be distributed amongst the ships for the night expedition. Osmund had been instructed to arrange the return of the Thorrington horses and had advised Alan that the men due to march to Clacton, Wyley, Thorp and Kirkly were more than happy to be carried part of the way on horseback.
Alan placed eight sailors and twenty warriors into each of four captured longboats. Sunset was due at a little after eight in the evening. Sunrise next day was due at just after four in the morning, with the moon appearing a little before two in the morning. With a northerly wind and outgoing tide they left at seven in the evening, gliding along silently.
Alan and Owain stood leaning on the stern rail of the ship, looking back towards the wake of the boat. “That’s a very useful bow that you have,” commented Alan. “Is it common amongst your people?”
“The longbow?” queried Owain. “”Yes indeed. That’s why the Saxons haven’t been able to conquer my people despite several hundred years of warfare along the frontier, and why you Normans will have the same lack of result.”
Owain picked up the bow that was leaning against the rail. It was larger than he was at 5’ 4”. The bow was 5’ 9”. He said, “The bow is matched to the bowman, being about as long as he is tall. The bigger the man, the longer the bow and the stronger they both are, but more important is the draw of the bow. The arrows are a cloth-yard long, 39 inches. As you saw today they can punch clean through chain mail. A good bowman will hit a single target most times at 200 paces and have fifteen aimed shots a minute.”
He strung the bow and handed it to Alan, who balanced it in his hand and then tried to draw it. It drew easily enough to the chest, but he wasn’t able to draw it to the ear. “It requires a lot of practice,” commented Owain. “You have to train and strengthen the specific muscles that you need, which are different from hacking around with a sword. Even a poor bowman will hit a single target at 150 paces most of the time and will hit an army all the time,” he concluded with a quiet smile.
“Why aren’t they in general use?” asked Anne.
Owain replied, “Because the men who hire the men to fight in wars all wear chain-mail. Norwegians, Danes, Normans, French and English. You wouldn’t encourage the use of a weapon that makes your expensive armour ineffective and swats your best trained swordsmen or horsemen like flies. We Welsh normally use it in close quarters in ambush, to punch through the mail shirts of the English. We don’t have enough men to stand and conduct a proper battle,” he said ruefully. “We have no armoured knights or huscarles and have been happy to kill the flower of Anglo-Saxon nobility well out of range of their double-handed axes. There aren’t many of us, so we hit, run and hide, disappearing amongst our wild hills at will. They burn our villages, but at a price- and a turf-roofed cottage is easy enough to rebuild when the invader has left the valley and you had little enough in the way of goods to lose in the first place. They kill every one of us they can find, but would discover we respond to the hand of friendship more readily- apart from the traditional cattle-raiding along the border. We really aren’t worth the trouble that has been taken over us by first the Romans and then the English. Perhaps the Normans will see more sense.”
Anne was clearly not comfortable with the idea of the English being invaders and the earls of Mercia guilty of attempted genocide.
“Don’t expect anything different from the Normans,” said Alan sourly. “If one sheep goes missing you can expect Roger de Montgomery, Hugh d’Avranches, Roger de Lacey and the rest to be across the border by nightfall, just for the fight if nothing else. Have your king talk to William when he returns, but despite whatever promises are made if there is any provocation by your people the war-bands will be on the march.”
Owain nodded his head at the words of advice and commented, “Certainly, and there is no way our people will give up sheep-duffing or cattle-rustling, not just from the Western Marches but also from each other. It’s a national pastime.
“Now back to these bows. They have a draw-weight four times that of most hunting bows, even those used for large game. They’re a specialist weapon that needs specialist training. Perhaps not full time, but a couple of half days a week. I’ve noticed your liking to kill the enemy at range to even the odds, or put the odds in your favour. I have no problem with that. Why stick a sword in somebody’s guts when you can kill him with no risk at 200 paces? Fuck chivalry! War is about winning and having the smallest possible number of casualties. What do you have in mind?”
“I’m thinking about having a combined-arms force, similar to what we Normans are used to, but with a difference. From what you say, you Welsh rely on bowmen. The English rely on heavy-infantry, as do the Norwegians and Danes- although they are more mobile by using their boats. The Normans use infantry and bowmen, but our main weapon is the armoured man-at-arms on horseback, and the use of manoeuvre on the battlefield. We won at Hastings despite that combination not working well and not being able to manoeuvre because of the ground. My thoughts are for 50 cavalry, 100 trained infantrymen, mainly swordsmen, and 100 partially-trained levy spearmen. And fifty archers, armed with longbows.”
“Good God!” exclaimed Owain. “Are you intending to fight the earl of Essex? I doubt he could raise more men than that!”
“No, but I have no doubt that this week’s invasion by the Danes will not be the last. Swein Estrithson has a claim at least at good as William to be king of England. After all, it’s only twenty or so years since the Danish ruling family was replaced as the kings of England. Harold Hardrada of Norway had a good claim, but whether that died with him at Stamford Bridge has yet to be seen. Swein was distracted last year by internal politics in Denmark, or it may have been a four-way fight for England and only God knows where the result would have gone! Certainly England would lie devastated under the heel of whoever had won.
“Yes, in the last few days we’ve been very successful with minimal forces and some use of tactics, something the Danes don’t understand as they tend to think with their axe. I intend to make sure that next time we have the men and machines we need so that if the enemy actually starts to think with their heads instead of their balls, we still prevail. Here in the east we face a number of risks from the sea, as well as the ‘give and take’ of politics at home. Rebellion by the English. Rebellion by the Norman lords. What would happen if William were murdered, or just dies accidentally? He has two sons. Who would support who for the Crown or the Duchy? Difficult times may well be ahead. This raid by the Danes is most opportune. It provides us with the weapons and the money we need to forge both a wealthy and a militarily strong Tendring Hundred, and to look after our own irrespective of what may happen in the future.”
Owain replied, “That’s all too complicated for a simple man like me. A figure of 50 longbowmen I can at least understand. How do you intend to achieve that?”
“Well, I believe that I have a master bowman standing before me. Do you have any other work that is pressing on you at the moment? I can offer you three shillings a week plus your keep.”
Owain’s eyebrows raised. Two shillings was what a knight was paid, and the knight had to provide his own armour, horse, feed and keep. “Tis a generous offer, and one I would find hard to refuse,” he replied. “How do you see this working?”
“I have my Norman bowmen Rogers and Warren, who will need to be retrained. The bow you use is not dissimilar to that used on the continent, but somewhat more powerful. I have twenty archers, based around Thorrington. All are used to the shorter bow and are reasonably competent with it, although I appreciate that is much different to the longbow. I would want squads of ten each at Beaumont, Alresford, Ramsey and Great Oakley. Maybe one later at Dovercourt. And with Lady Anne’s permission, here at Wivenhoe.”
“I’m not a bowyer. How do we get the bows?” asked Owain.
“You know one or two suitable bowyers in Wales?” queried Alan.
“Yes, in the Cardiff area. A good bow costs two or three shillings, and a skilled bower can make two or three a day. The main problem is a lack of suitable dried yew wood. It takes two years or so to dry.”
“Are there any technical problems?”
“Not really,” said Owain. “You’re familiar with the idea of composite bows?”
“Different woods and materials glued together to produce a bow with greater strength and resilience. Yes, they’ve been doing that in Arab lands for hundreds of years,” replied Alan.
“Well, the longbow is a natural composite bow, using the part of the tree where the heartwood and sapwood meet. Different woods with different compression rates, but from the one tree and in one piece of wood,” said Owain. “The traditional construction of a longbow consists of drying the yew wood for one to two years, then slowly working the wood into shape, with the entire process taking up to four years. The actual work to make a bow probably takes half a day for a skilled bowyer. The bow stave is shaped into a D-section. The outer ‘back’ of sapwood, approximately flat, follows the natural growth rings, while the inner side, the ‘belly’, of the bow stave consists of rounded heartwood. The heartwood resists compression and the outer sapwood performs better in tension. Your problem is going to be finding enough properly dried two-year-old yew wood cut to the proper requirements. That’s probably close to as many bows as get made in southern Wales in a year.”
With the favourable wind the ships covered the four miles to Brightlingsea quickly. Alan recommended to his men that they not put their armour on, commenting, “I can swim quite well, but not with forty pounds of harness on my back. Today you’re more likely to fall in the sea and drown than have somebody stick you with a sword.”
It was nearly midnight when they arrived off Brightlingsea. Although the moon had still not risen, the enemy ships could be seen by the lanterns hanging at their sterns. Alan had instructed the English ships to extinguish their lanterns, which caused the seamen some concern at the breach of standard procedures.
The attack went like clockwork. The English boats drew up near the eight Danish ships, which were anchored in a gaggle. The Danes loomed dimly in the dark, their silhouettes barely visible against the sky. The tidal water gurgled as it rushed past the hulls of the Danish and English ships.
Alan ordered four selected men from his ship to climb overboard. They stripped off and carrying a knife between their teeth swam towards the fat trading ship they was their first target. Four other men had as their target a nearby longboat. Moments later they also quietly swam away.
After what seemed an agonisingly long pause but in reality was only minutes, the stern light of the ship was covered once and then twice, the agreed signal. Alan ordered the oars used to bring the ship alongside its target and ten men swarmed aboard. Five minutes later the sergeant was back at the rail, advising that the ship was taken and the guards killed.
They progressed to the next boat, this time a longboat, where the process was repeated. As they had been informed, the ships carried only skeleton crews and few guards. Over the next few minutes the stern lanterns on the other ships flashed their pre-arranged signals of success.
The boats then congregated and Anne had herself rowed in a dinghy to the captured longboats, where the captives were being kept. She called Alan over and he was horrified to see perhaps 100 men, women and children chained together, mainly in a squatting position as there was insufficient room for them to lie down.
For most it had been two days since their capture and while they had been provided some gruel and water they had not been unchained and most were sitting in their own filth. Like the captives previously rescued many were sitting in a torpor, apathetic to their surroundings and what was happening around them. As each had their chains struck off they had to be helped to their feet and physically pushed towards where several water barrels had been set up by the mast for drinking and washing. A few of the women clutched young children either at their hip or by the hand, but most of the captives appeared to be less than twenty and single, or at least unaccompanied.
The few sailors who had been in the Danish crew were helping ready the ship for sailing. A quick look in the cabin showed why the guards had not appeared after the ship had been captured. Apart from the on-duty guard lying dead by the mast, the remaining five had been taken surprise by the raiding party and still lay on their bunks, each with his throat cut from ear to ear. The cabin reeked with the bitter stench of fresh blood and the sweat of the unwashed former crew.
While Alan supervised the disposal of the dead Danes, solved by the simple expedient of throwing them over the side, Anne disappeared to inspect the cargo-ships. She was gone for some time and by the time she returned Alan had moved two of the longboats close to the beach just by the village and sent for Edsel, the King’s Reeve for the village.
It was after four in the morning, the sun was up and the village had been stirring even before Alan’s men had started to knock peremptorily on doors. Alan’s men were carefully and gently assisting the former captives down from the bows of the two longboats beached on the mud-flat. The other ships were slowly sailing north up Barfleet Creek towards Thorrington.
Surprised that Anne had not returned, Alan gave Edsel instructions for the village to care for the released captives. When Edsel tried to demur, complaining about the cost, Alan uncharacteristically lost his temper.
“Listen, you mean weasel!” he roared. “Wivenhoe is also caring for refugees, and I’m taking another 100 to Thorrington. It’s time for you and your village to accept its responsibilities. When Edward came through here warning of the raiding fleet and requesting men to accompany him, you said nay and gave him not one man.
“I tell you this. If Edward and the other thegns had not met and defeated the Danes at Wivenhoe, your pretty village of Brightlingsea would be getting burned to the ground and its people massacred today. And all you can do is whine about ‘who is going to pay the cost of the food and drink?’ You are the King’s Reeve. You are responsible and you can attend to it. I’ll be speaking to King William when he returns and I doubt that you will be retaining your position in six months time.”
Alan stalked back to the longboat and was surprised when some of the refugees requested permission to re-board and accompany him to Thorrington. In particular one young lad of about twelve, thin and poorly dressed and with long dark hair, had been following Alan like a shadow.
Barfleet Creek wound north towards Thorrington, but did not reach it, the village being a mile or so beyond the navigable part of the river. As the incoming tide ceased, Alan’s crew had to get out the oars and start to row. They reached the remainder of the small fleet just as the tide had dropped so low as to prevent further progress even in the shallow-drafted longboat. The boat had run aground some distance from the shore and they had to wade through thick mud to reach solid land. An anchor was dropped and two men were left aboard to attend to the ship when the water returned.
Hugh and several others were standing on the shore and managed not to laugh at the sight of Alan, mired to the thigh and having lost one shoe in the mud. With a smile on his face Hugh said, “Sorry I can’t offer you a horse, but as you know we took every animal that could be ridden when we went to Wivenhoe and they aren’t back yet. Lady Anne has taken the refugees up to the village to be tended. Fortunately the hay-making and sheep-shearing can wait a few days.”
With an irritated grunt Alan limped off to the nearly deserted Hall, where he washed off the worst of the mud, put on a fresh tunic, leggings and boots before walking down to the village green.
As at Wivenhoe, Anne had organised the refugees into small parties, each group tended to by two or three villagers. Most distressing was the group of fourteen orphans aged from eight to twelve, being supervised by two matronly women. A small group of local children had started a game of knucklebones and managed to get most of the orphans involved, although several, particularly the older girls, were sitting quietly and with a withdrawn manner.
The stories the refugees told were similar to those heard at Wivenhoe. Small communities attacked without warning, slaughter, torture and murder, rape and looting. From the stories it appeared as if parts of Lexden Hundred and Winstree Hundred had been virtually depopulated. The Danes had swept through like a plague of locusts, destroying everything, burning villages and the isolated individual holdings or places where several houses stood close together. As before, most of the captives were young women who had seen their husbands killed, and all too often also their children. Some were men too young to be married, but strong of back and suitable to work as slaves in the fields of their captors.
In small groups they were taken to the local bathing place, a deepening of the creek that supplied the village with water, located just downstream of the village, to bathe and receive fresh clothing. They were then billeted with the locals, care being taken to keep together those known to each other, particularly the children.
Although Thorrington was reasonably affluent, some of its people were not and in some cases the clothing provided literally came off the back of the provider. Alan opened his store-rooms, but not all that was needed was in store and the local villagers generously made up any shortfall from their own belongings, including clothing, shoes, brushes and combs and many other small items.
The return of the first batch of warriors from the villages further north and east, those who had been loaned the use of the Thorrington horses when the Thorrington men took to the boats, arrived at mid-morning and caused an initial stir of fear amongst the refugees. After a brief rest and quick meal the men, now without the horses, moved on towards their homes at Tendring, Bentley and beyond.
Alan turned to the youth who had been following him as faithfully as a hound. “What is your name, boy, and where do you come from?” he asked gently.
“Leof, master. I’m from a hamlet near Fingringhoe. All burnt and gone now,” he concluded sadly in a rustic accent.
“Well, Leof, let’s get you cleaned up, clothed and fed. Come up to the Hall with me,” replied Alan. The Hall had its usual bustling character and Alan placed Leof in the charge of Otha the cook, sure that the boy would need a decent meal and that Otha could do with some assistance in the kitchen. However, not long afterwards the boy reappeared, now clean and with his long hair brushed, and stood behind Alan’s chair as he sat at the table talking to Osmund, who had been drawing up a list of the refugees, first at Wivenhoe and now at Thorrington. Osmund would go to Brightlingsea to do the same job that afternoon.
Anne came hurrying in and sat at the table. Alan waved for some food and wine for her and Leof disappeared like a shot, returning moments later with a laden wooden platter and brimming cup.
After giving the boy a brief nod of thanks Anne began to talk urgently to Alan in Latin, knowing that only he and his trusted scribe Osmund would be able to understand. “I’ve had a look through the ships, the two longboats and the four trading cogs. I’ve had a few things taken off and either put in your wine store or in a bundle in the room you use as your office. Now there’s no doubt that all those items belong to you by right of salvage. But most of them were seized by the Danes at Colchester, including the cogs. The previous owners are nearby and no doubt anxious to recover their property. To avoid any disputes, and any legal court cases that would drag on for months- and who knows what the outcome would be once the lawyers get involved- I strongly suggest that you get rid of them as soon as possible. I’ve taken a rough inventory and from what I’ve seen you’ve gone from being a man of substance to one of significant wealth in a couple of days. As long as nobody takes it away from you.”
Alan inclined his head. “And you have a suggestion as to how to do this?” he asked.
“Of course,” replied Anne. “As I have told you, my father is a merchant at Ipswich. I’ve taken the liberty of penning him a note instructing him to sell at Ipswich what is in the longboats and to send the cogs to Lubeck, Haarlem, Hamburg and Oslo to sell both the cargo and the ships. You should buy four different ships and then have them return to Ipswich with a return cargo. Father’s factors will know what to buy. I’ve told him that he can only keep ten percent of the gross, which no doubt will really upset him as he usually doesn’t work for less than fifty percent. Now, how many of the longboats do you want to keep? You have fourteen and that seems a bit greedy.”
“I’d like to keep six, maybe eight, and use them to provide some protection for the estuaries of both the Colne and Orwell. I’ll probably put a ballista on the bows of each one, which should make up for any lack of numbers,” said Alan with some confusion. “I hadn’t really thought about it.”
“Fine. Send six up to Ipswich and my father will sell them back to the Danes or the Norwegians. You should get a good price for them.”
Alan shook his head in bemusement. “This really doesn’t make sense. Why would I sell ships to the Danes for them to send back here to raid us again? And why would I want four trading ships? I’m a soldier, not a merchant. Not that I have anything against merchants,” he added quickly.
“The Danes and the Norwegians will build as many ships as they think they need for whatever purpose they want them, including raiding or trading. If you’re worried about trading with the Danes, we can sell them to the Norwegians- who will use them to raid the Scots, the Russians and the Danes. They don’t come down here. Hopefully that’ll satisfy your conscience. I’ll send off the trading cogs with the two longboats that still have plunder in them, with the best crews, with the next high tide. The boats still at Wivenhoe can be brought up here when you have the crews- that’s something else I’ve asked my father to attend to. You need reliable and knowledgeable captains and a few extra seamen. For ten percent of the gross I expect him to do some work.”
Alan shook his head again in confusion. “What is this all about?” he asked plaintively.
Anne reined in her enthusiasm, “I’ll explain in more detail later, but until this week you have been a prosperous and respected landowner in a small and remote corner of England. This Danish raid has delivered to you the means to be very wealthy and you can then do what you want with your wealth. Clearly you have designs to improve the local military. That will cost a lot. If you operate eight longships with their crews, that will also cost a lot- after all you can’t turn pirate and subsidise the cost by taking local shipping, although you could turn the tables on the Danes and go and raid them. Trust me.”
Alan gave in and shrugged. “Whatever you like! Select the six crews for the boats you’re most interested in and I’ll have the other boats at Wivenhoe brought here. After all, in six days we’ll be dividing up the rest of the captured booty with the other thegns who took part.”
“But not what you took last night. Those were your forces and that booty is yours,” instructed Anne. “Today is Friday the 31st of May, the Feast of the Visitation of the Blessed Virgin Mary” she continued. “Sunday is Trinity Sunday. Would you care to come and share it at my Hall?”
“Certainly, with pleasure! We’ll leave in the morning,” replied Alan. “Meanwhile, come and have a look at my new Hall at the fort. It’s basically finished and the workers are just completing putting on the last of the wood shingles on the roof. I still haven’t got the chimney working properly yet, though.”
Anne patiently withstood the detailed tour of the fort, showing genuine interest in the innovations such as the under-floor heating system; water piped in from a nearby spring to the stables and kitchen; the bathing house with a hot tub big enough for four; and, the piece de resistance, flushing latrines. Alan had opted not to use the Roman system of continuous flushing, as it would cause problems with needing too big a cesspit outside the walls in the low-lying land, but would use a flush-on-demand system where periodically a sluice would be opened to allow water stored in a tank to wash away the waste.
The barracks and stables were already occupied, the barns and granary were full and Gimm and his assistant were going through the armour and weapons stored in the armoury to see if any equipment needed repair after the recent battles. Stable-master Teon had boys at work in the tack room checking and oiling all the horse harnesses.
As promised, the Hall itself was virtually complete, with only a small section of roofing needing to be completed. Anne admired the paved floor, sturdy construction, private apartments and guest quarters. “And after this week I’ll be able to afford to put glass in the windows, instead of just using shutters or oiled cloth,” enthused Alan with what Anne felt was not unwarranted pride. He also proudly showed her his workroom, where there were three ballistae in various stages of completion, diagrams drawn in chalk on a large piece of slate attached to the wall.
That night Alan enjoyed his own bedchamber, and Edyth. Anne slept on the mattress in the Solar, lying awake drumming her fingers on the bedclothes in annoyance at the sounds of pleasure coming from next door.
Next morning Alan gave Anne a hand-up into the side-saddle on the quiet horse that had been found for her. As the escort of six mounted men-at-arms was falling in behind them Alan saw Leof looking dejected and called for Teon to fetch a quiet pony. “Do you know how to ride, boy?” asked Alan as Leof mounted clumsily. When Leof shook his head Alan gave a kind laugh and said, “Well, now is as good a time to learn as any! You have a nice patient pony and Lady Anne and I will give you some tips as we ride. You should be an expert by the time we reach Wivenhoe!”
Alan was content to leave the hosting of the Trinity Sunday feast to his new steward Faran and his scribe Osmund. As instructed by Anne, Alan had arranged for the six boats containing the majority of the Dane’s booty to sail on the high tide that night. Alan had also dispatched Owain on horseback to Cardiff with an order for 50 longbows, a large purse of 200 shillings and four trusted armed guards- nobody in his right mind would let somebody he hardly knew carry?10 in cash 200 miles all the way across the country and into hostile territory. Alan sincerely hoped that his trust was not misplaced and that Owain and the bows would return.?10 was more than most men earned in a lifetime.
Anne rode alongside Alan, on his right so that she faced him in her side-saddle. After some idle chatter she paused and said, “Alan, there is an ulterior motive behind this invitation.” Alan gave a polite look of enquiry but kept his silence, allowing Anne to continue. “You were, as usual, correct. It’s one of your annoying habits. When you were away in April, Robert fitzWymarc’s clerk came to see me, a little weasel of a man called Foucoud. His breath stank of garlic and obviously hadn’t had a bath since winter began.
“As you said was likely, he claimed that Aelfric had only taken up the land in laen for his lifetime and that I have to vacate. I told him that it was landboc owned by Aelfric. He demanded to see the ownership books, which of course I don’t have. I don’t have the charter to prove that and I don’t know if that is true or not, but presumably they wouldn’t be able to prove it wasn’t true. He then said that this caused no problems. Aelfric, my former husband is dead, there is no heir and as a widow fitzWymarc would be kind enough to find me a suitable husband. Indeed he had already found a suitor. An elderly knight, a Breton like fitzWymarc, who has been married three times before. Geoffrey of Rennes is his name.
“I asked Foucoud’s English assistant about this Sir Geoffrey and was told he is 45 years old, drinks heavily and beat at least one of his previous wives to death.” Anne paused but continued before Alan could interrupt. “I declined, and remembering your kind previous offers presumed to tell him that I already had an arrangement with a local knight of some renown. Foucoud told me that such an arrangement wouldn’t allow me to keep my manor. I told him that it would as both my former husband and my betrothed were both tenants-in-chief, holding directly from the Crown, so my lands aren’t in the gift of the local lord. That seemed to confuse him. He departed and I’ve heard nothing since.” Anne paused again “So I thought I’d better tell you that you are betrothed, before you heard it from somebody else,” she said with a small smile.
Alan had pulled up his horse in surprise and, having heard Anne out, turned Odin closer to Anne so he could reach across and give her a kiss on her lips. His initial chuckle soon grew into a belly-laugh that continued for a minute or so, before he kissed her again and said, “I’m delighted to hear of both my excellent taste in prospective spouses and my extreme good fortune. Better the devil that you know, eh?”
Anne blushed. “Not at all! I’ve been thinking seriously about your proposal for some time. You’re everything a woman could want. Handsome, educated, erudite, sensitive, caring, apparently passionate, honest. Not violent- your leman bears no bruises. A very good soldier and leader of men. The only problem is you’re French.”
“Norman,” corrected Alan automatically, still with a grin on his face, as he turned Odin to continue the journey. “Well, that explains some things you’ve been up to in the last few days, and I suppose I can trust my prospective father-in-law with my prospective fortune. What’s his name, anyway?”
“Orvin,” replied Anne with mock seriousness. “My mother is Lora Augstdottir. My uncle, who runs the shipping part of the business, is Lidmann. I have two brothers Betlic and Garrett, and a sister Mae. Garrett and Mae are older than me and both married. Betlic is nine, a late addition.”
“And you have arranged the date of the happy day?” said Alan, still smiling.
Anne gave a golden laugh. “No, I thought I’d leave at least that much to you.” After a pause she continued “Do you think what I told Foucoud will stand?”
Alan gave a brief tilt of the head as he considered. “By itself, probably not. FitzWymarc is now Geoffrey de Mandeville’s man, and Geoffrey is not a man to let a penny slip out of his hands. However, I’ll have a talk to the king when he gets back in September. De Mandeville will have other things to do than worry about fitzWymarc’s plans. I’ve no doubt I’ll sort it out with William.”
Anne looked seriously at Alan. “Truly I move in exalted circles, if my husband-to-be can talk so casually about meeting the king and so certainly about getting his way!”
Alan laughed. “William owes me a couple of favours and he knows it. Giving me land in Tendring was a part payment. He wouldn’t even think twice about Wivenhoe. He’ll just increase the number of men I have to provide him at service.”
The remaining few miles to Wivenhoe passed quickly and quietly, both Alan and Anne deep in thought.
“Two thoughts,” said Alan at length. “I presume you want me to meet your family. Have you told them yet?”
Anne laughed and replied, “No. I thought I’d better let you know first!”
“On Thursday we’ll need to be back at Thorrington to meet with the thegns. That’s the 7th of June, two days after St Boniface’s Day. The Feast of the Nativity of St John at Midsummer is the 24th June. That’s another Quarter Day when we both have to receive rents and pay our taxes, so that week is busy, quite apart from the seasonal celebrations. I’d suggest a week’s visit in the second week of June, long enough to meet them, not too long if we don’t get on. I’ve never been to Ipswich, so if needs be you can get me out of the house by showing me the local sights. On the way back we can look at North Tendring- Manningtree, Bradfield, Ramsey, Dovercourt. Since you know about everything else, do you know about salt-pans?”
“No. What was your other thought?” asked Anne.
“You’re going to have to learn Norman French, and quickly. I’m a member of the Curia Regis and I’m expected to attend at the king’s court. If there’s one thing I know about you, it’s that you wouldn’t want to look like a country bumpkin. Some good jewellery would be a good idea as well. It’ll help take the attention of the French-born women off your being English”.
“You are not ashamed of me already, are you?” asked Anne in alarm.
Alan reached over and patted her hand in reassurance. “Definitely not, but French women are all bitches who do nothing but needlework and gossip. Not one that I have met has a fraction of your ability and intelligence. I want a wife who is a working partner, if perhaps the junior partner, not just an ornament or a sleeping-partner. I just don’t want to give those bitches something else about which to criticize you.” He affected a high pitched voice, “Oh! The woman not only doesn’t know about fashion or wear the latest dresses, but she doesn’t do needle-point and can’t speak French. Worst of all she can read,” he mimicked.
“When should we get married?” asked Anne, reaching across with her left hand to hold Alan’s right.
“As soon as possible, to present that bastard de Mandeville with a fait accompli that he can’t change. There’s no way he’s going to ask the pope to annul the marriage,” replied Alan. “Where do you want the ceremony? Ipswich, Wivenhoe or Thorrington?”
“I think Wivenhoe, so the people can see their new lord, then we’ll move to Thorrington. It’s got better accommodation in that wondrous new Hall. I won’t need to get any jewellery. The part of my dowry that wasn’t in cash, which my former husband promptly gambled away, was in jewellery. Merchants believe strongly in easily transportable wealth.”
With the early start to the day they arrived at Anne’s Hall at Wivenhoe a little before noon. Leof had hardly been able to walk after he had climbed off his horse and Anne had asked a young housemaid to rub his chapped and aching thighs with ointment of wintergreen, sure that both would find some benefit from this.
As their arrival hadn’t been expected, Anne’s cook Rheda was put into a panic by their sudden arrival. After some quick preparation, Friday being a fish day, she provided grilled fresh trout with garlic and carmeline sauces and fried vegetables followed by fresh fruit, washed down with red wine.
Anne drank her wine well-watered, Alan his un-watered but in moderation. Anne spent the afternoon showing Alan Wivenhoe with as much pride as he had shown her Thorrington and its new fort, and she checked on progress with the refugees. About a quarter had already left to return to whatever was left of their former homes and lives, others were more fearful and were waiting for the armed escort that Wybert, Anne’s steward, had promised. Others, perhaps half of the total, had asked to be permitted to stay, stating that they had nothing and nobody left to return to and that they felt secure in this community.
With more time for preparation Rheda pronounced herself more satisfied with the usually less elaborate and smaller evening meal, this time of shrimps with onions and garlic, fried herring with mustard sauce, vegetables with cumin sauce followed by an apple tart. The couple dined alone at the high table, the servants eating more simple food at the trestle tables in the lower part of the Hall. Anne gave some quiet instructions to her maid Esme who left the Hall and reappeared sometime later.
Like the Hall that Alan had ‘inherited’ from Estan, Anne’s Hall had private quarters at one end screened off by a wooden wall. With a direct look at Alan, Anne said, “It’s been a long day and we’re both dusty from the ride. Let me escort you to the bedchamber where I have arranged a bath.”
Nothing loath, Alan rose and was surprised when, after leading the way into the bedchamber, Anne dismissed Esme. There was a large metal hip-bath and several wooden buckets of hot water placed on the floor. After the door had closed she shed her own russet coloured dress, standing in her knee-length white shift. Moving to Alan she said, “Come, you can’t bathe dressed, let’s get that tunic off you,” as she gently pulled the tunic over his head. Alan, while acknowledging that he was sometimes not quick on the uptake, was quick enough to unbuckle and remove his own pants.
Anne gestured for him to step into the bath, pouring a bucket of warm water over him and began to scrub him with soap and a sponge. Alan gently undid the buttons at Anne’s breasts and she allowed the shift to fall to the floor. They soon found out that there was insufficient room in the bath for two, and after taking it in turns to wash and be washed and dried Anne took Alan by the hand and led him towards the bed, untying her long auburn hair and shaking it to fall loose as she did so.
About an hour later, now understanding why Edyth tended to be so noisy in her love-making, satiated and satisfied that for once the sexual act had involved tenderness and love rather than violence and abuse, Anne asked in a sleepy voice from her position curled up under Alan’s arm, “Are Edyth’s breasts really better than mine?”
“Yes,” replied Alan, with his usual lack of appreciation of when to dissemble. “They’re larger, but yours are nice and firm,” he said with a gentle squeeze of one of the parts under discussion.
“Cifesboren!” said Anne sweetly as she elbowed Alan hard in the stomach.
When he got his breath back Alan replied, “Well, you did say that my honesty was one of the points that redeemed my Frenchness. You need to learn not to ask questions when you may not like the answer!”
“And you, my little Frenchman, or indeed not very little at all, need to learn when discretion is required,” growled Anne.
Towards daybreak after their third, or was it fourth, time Anne asked, “When is your nydh?mestre moving out of your Hall?”
Alan had not been insensitive to the fact that Anne had invited him into her bed, rather than trying to inveigle her way into his. “Well, my little scamleast galdricge, that depends on when you are moving into it,” replied Alan. Having learned quickly he was able to catch the swinging elbow and gave her a deep kiss. “Tomorrow?”
As she moved on top of him Anne said, “How about today?”
Later, as they were dressing she said, “Seriously, what are you going to do about Edyth?”
“I was thinking about giving her a nice farm up near Frating. With a good income and her looks, she’ll have no trouble finding a suitable man,” replied Alan.
“Dovercourt,” replied Anne firmly, naming the town furthest away in the Tendring Hundred.
Alan smiled. “Dovercourt,” he agreed. “And let’s make it Tuesday so she has time to pack properly.”
“I’ll be there mid-day Tuesday and you just make sure there are no farewells between now and then,” said Anne with a not very veiled threat in her voice.
Alan gave a single nod of agreement. “We’ll move into the Hall at the new fort at the same time,” he suggested.
Anne agreed. “Wash the bed linen and sheets,” she ordered.