THORRINGTON AUGUST 1067
The next two days spent on the road were wet and uncomfortable. Alan rode wearing a large square of oiled cloth with a central hole for his head and a leather wide-brimmed hat, which together kept most of the rain off his upper body, although water ran down the back of his neck. His woollen trews were soaked and rubbed uncomfortably against his legs as he rode. Anne, her maid and Leof travelled in the cart, with another large piece of oiled cloth keeping most of the rain off them. The others rode soaked and miserable, sitting like wet sacks on their mounts.
They saw few other travellers in the Great Forest. The huge beech, oak and birch trees, resplendent in their summer foliage, formed a virtual canopy over the winding and now muddy track that formed the roadway. Water dripped from the trees and lay pooled in the ground from the constant rain.
The horsemen rode at the edge of the road on the firmer ground, while the poor cart-horse plodded on up to its hocks in mud in the middle of the track. Even after emerging from the Great Forest traffic on the road was slight as most travellers were clever enough to wait for better conditions before travelling.
When on the afternoon of the second day they rode into Thorrington they saw a cog, a small trading vessel, floating on the Alresford Creek. Like most of its kind it was a single-masted ship, rather short at sixty feet at the waterline, wide and shallow-drafted, rounded towards both ends and with a stern-mounted steering-oar. At the moment the ship was partially empty and rode high, showing above the waterline five strakes each of a plank of oak twelve inches wide.
Unusually for such a ship it was fully decked rather than having a half-deck, making it a proper sea-going vessel. Orvin had kept his word and also sent a good crew. These simple ships were usually manned by a small crew of three, but for this longer and more difficult voyage he had recruited a crew of six, including an experienced trading captain named Bjorn from Oslo, who claimed in his many years of sailing, both Viking and trading, to have sailed as far as the Levant. Orvin’s letter highly recommended the man and attested that he had the usual good navigation and sailing skills of his people. He also mentioned that Uncle Lidmann had made arrangements with an agent in Exeter and that the required tin ingots had been bought and were awaiting collection.
Both Anne and Alan were taken with Bjorn’s gruff no-nonsense manner, long red hair and weather-beaten features. He expressed himself delighted with the ‘Zeelandt’, declaring it as a “trim and weatherly ship, and as good as any of its kind I’ve seen.”
Orvin had also sent six young men, described as ‘being of good repute and looking for adventure,’ to act as guards in addition to the six crewmen.
Knowing Alan’s intentions, Baldwin had for the last week been training all the men with the short-sword (except Bjorn, who had his own single-handed battle-axe), with Warren training them on the four crossbows that they had in the armoury. Some of the newly purchased cross-bows would also form part of the equipment for the ship when they arrived.
Alan had given up on his idea of putting war-boats to sea, as that would not protect his ships on the high seas or on foreign coasts. When Alan explained his alternative intention of arming the ships to fight off pirates Bjorn was delighted, saying that having a dozen men firing cross-bow bolts and waving swords was likely to deter all but the most determined of pirates, except of course the Norwegians and Danes.
Alan gave a small smile and told him to move the ‘Zeelandt’ further down the creek on the tide so it was out of view of the village. Bjorn gave a non-committal shrug and did as he was told.
After spending the evening and most of the morning tinkering in his work-room, Alan had what looked like a huge wooden cross-bow put on the back of a wagon and driven down to where the ship was beached on the low tide. Baldwin, Warren and Aldwin tagged along to see what was happening, but Alan gave instructions to all the other villagers to stay away.
“What’s that?” asked Anne.
“That’s one of the ballistae I’ve been telling you about,” replied Alan, as he had the machine dragged across the mud on wooden boards and then hoisted onto the foredeck of the ship, where it was bolted in place. Several small barrels and two dozen spear-like projectiles, most with an enlarged head about eighteen inches long and four inches wide made of absorbent lambs-wool, were carried across to the ship. He had a dozen wooden boxes and crates set up along the shoreline, some sitting just in the water. One box made of four-inch thick oak was placed 200 paces away.
The dozen crew members looked intrigued.
“You pull on these spokes, which puts torsion on the bow arms like this. Then you load the bolt like this.” Alan slipped a plain metal rod four feet long and two inches wide into the slot. “You adjust the sights like this, which give you the range- although it fires with a very flat trajectory so a little inaccuracy doesn’t matter, and you pull the trigger, like this.” With a loud ‘thunk!’ the ballista discharged and the thick wooden box disappeared in a shower of splinters. “It has a 500 pace range,” he concluded.
“Gruss Got!” exclaimed Bjorn. “Not even Vikings would take on a ship that is blowing holes in their hull like that!”
“Now, for when they are really determined!” Alan measured out equal amounts of powder from two of the small barrels into an earthenware pot about the size of a bucket and spooned in some thick black pitch, stirring thoroughly.
After recharging the ballista he took one of the large-headed projectiles. “We’ll see if this works. I’ve never done it without heating the mixture in a cauldron so that it turns into a liquid.” Alan dipped the lambs-wool into the mixture and put the projectile in place. He lit the pitch, which burnt with a dull flame, then carefully aimed at a box that was just starting to float on the incoming tide and pulled the trigger. The shot missed the box by several feet, but when it hit the water it exploded in a shower of flame that blew the box to pieces and threw burning material thirty feet in each direction.
Everybody, including Alan, was stunned. “Well, yes it did work! I didn’t think you could light a fire to heat the caldron and make a liquid on a boat in the heat of the moment when you’re under attack. The thing that you must not do is allow any water into this pot. The water causes the fire. This requires the greatest of care, or you send your own ship up in flames. What’s really good about it is that if the shot hits the target ship, they’ll throw a bucket of water on it to put out the pitch that’s on fire, and blow up their own ship.”
Bjorn looked at Alan with the greatest respect. “You are an evil man,” he said with a happy grin. “With this, I could send the entire Moorish fleet to the bottom. But I prefer the iron bolts. They’re safer and more civilised.”
Alan was a little surprised to hear a Viking calling himself civilised, but let it pass. He had the second ballista brought down and bolted onto a wagon, with the oxen and driver then being dispatched back to the village. Three of the guards practiced with the incendiary mix from the ballista on the wagon, and three with wooden spears in lieu of the more expensive metal rods from the ballista on the foredeck, swapping over after an hour.
Towards dark Alan showed the crew the procedure for cleaning up spilled incendiary powder. “Smother with dry sand and scrape off.” He then mounted the second ballista on the stern of the ship, which with the incoming tide was now floating against the riverbank, and covered both engines with large pieces of oiled canvas. “Hopefully you’ll never need to take the canvas off,” he said to Bjorn.
“I don’t know- I wouldn’t like the voyages to be too boring!” replied the Viking with a laugh.
‘Zeelandt’ was partially loaded with a dozen barrels of whale oil, used for lighting; barrels of pickled and salted herring; bales of dried herring and a dozen barrels of Stockholm tar. The ship would have to be reloaded at Exeter when the two tons of tin ingots were added, which would be placed at the bottom of the hold as ballast. On return she would carry 160 barrels of fine French wine, twenty tuns.
Unfortunately, with the lateness of the season she would only get in one voyage before being laid up for winter. Bjorn sailed at midnight to catch the tide.
The glazier and metalworker both finished their work the next day and departed together on foot on the road back to London.
Orvin had sent word of the other boats that had now returned. These were the ‘Birgitta’ from Danzig and the ‘Stormsvale’ from Lubeck. The crew that had sailed to Hamburg had sold the ship and cargo as instructed, but had been unable to buy a suitable ship and had hired another ship to bring them back to Ipswich. Orvin had arranged a crew and cargo of wool and fabric to Bergen for the ‘Stormsvale’, with an intended return cargo of herring and whale oil. ‘Birgitta’ needed some work to make her fully sea-worthy, as she was from the eastern Baltic and only had a half-deck. Due to the coming of autumn and the imminent onset of the storm season, Orvin had dispatched ‘Stormsvale’ to Bergen, with a stated hope in his letter that this was acceptable.
He also advised that the net amount received from the sale of the three ships and cargos, after allowing the cost of purchase of the two replacement ships and his percentage was?1,927 15/ and 3d. This was in addition to the invested profit from the sale of the first ship and the financing of the ‘Zeelandt’ voyage.
Anne spent an enjoyable evening going over the figures and calculating that their current worth, excluding the value of the land that they held, was?3,010 5/ and 6p in cash, three substantial trading cogs, two with cargos in transit and eight longboats sitting in Barfleet Creek doing nothing. Which she then proceeded to nag Alan about. Each ship was worth?50 and was sitting there doing nothing.
Alan had spent the evening going over the manor accounts for the harvest which had just been completed, which he was sure that Anne would eventually get to. It had been a good summer harvest with above average yields.
Alan’s one third of the village’s cultivated land had yielded twice as much grain and hay as the usual full year harvest from the two field system, although Kendrick’s theft made the validity of the previous figures questionable. The autumn crop in the second field was likely to sprout at any time, given the heavy rain that they had received. Alan had also instructed that the land just cleared at Thorrington of the summer crop be mown for what hay remained, and ploughed and planted with alfalfa. This would be the fallow-field next year and it would be interesting to see what an early start would have on its use for grazing the following year.
Then he examined the training records of the soldiers, both the full-timers and the fyrdmen, sorting who to talk to- Hugh, Baldwin, Warren, Roger, Owain or Brand- for confirmation as to which troops either deserved promotion or required additional training. Owain called in and gave a personal report that all the contracted longbows had been received and that the training meant that they now had 50 archers who could hit a man-sized target at 200 paces half the time, with half of the men being able to do better and at longer range.
“You really enjoy dealing with that merchant stuff, don’t you,” Alan asked Anne, watching her go over the business accounts by candlelight as they ate a late supper.
“It’s fun, and as a merchant’s daughter I like to turn one shilling into two- three or four times a year, so at the end of the year each shilling is worth a pound. It’s like a game and whether you won is determined by how much is in your strong-box. Owning assets confuses things and creates responsibilities. You like to do your ‘lord of the manor’ and your ‘warrior leader’ things as well, don’t you?”
“Yes, but that’s my responsibility and what I am. I’m happy for you that the merchant expeditions seem to be working out, and I don’t have the traditional aversion to merchants that most ‘nobles’ do.” Here he pulled a face and placed a derogatory stress on the word ‘noble’. “But frankly it doesn’t particularly interest me, although the money is helpful in paying for what I want to do.”
“And what do you want to do?” asked Anne.
“Right now, take my wife to bed and spend the whole night making fierce love, After all, we do need an heir.”
Anne grinned shamelessly and said, “You must admit we have been trying hard these last few months and I’m not sure you are ‘up’ to it. But let’s give it a few more tries,” she said as she stood and placed her land on her lover’s arm and walked toward the bedchamber.
Autumn passed in a period largely of idleness on the part of Anne and Alan. Alan instructed that on his land the usual autumn slaughter of animals would be abbreviated to the minimum and that some of the additional harvest of grain and hay would be fed to the animals over winter. He was keen to build up his sheep, cattle and swine herds, and the annual autumn slaughter prevented this. The horse studs had performed well, and a new generation of larger and stronger animals were on the way and would be ready for use in two to three years time. He told Anne to shut up about the longboats, they were doing no harm beached in Barfleet Creek and he had some ideas about future use.
With the harvest gathered the village-folk were working at a slower pace, threshing and winnowing the grain. Men used flails to beat the heads of grain of wheat, barley, rye and oats that were in turn spread on the stone-flagged threshing floors. This was then swept up and winnowed by the women and older children, placing the grain/chaff mixture on large flat trays then tossing the grain into the air to allow the breeze to blow away the chaff, with the clean grain then being placed into the several village granaries, including that located in the bailey of New Hall.
Chaff was placed in bags. Straw was made into haystacks. Vegetables were dried and placed in sacks, particularly beans and peas. Other vegetables were placed in cool dry baskets or in salted brine. Herbs were gathered and dried. Root vegetables were dug up, cleaned and placed in dark dry cellars against use in the coming winter.
Livestock was driven to market, particularly the cattle. A few cows were slaughtered and pickled as corned beef or smoked as jerky. Some swine were sent to market, others were slaughtered and cooked, pickled or smoked as ham, bacon or spiced smoked sausages, or more rarely as the more exotic delicacies of northern Europe. Sheep, which had been shorn previously, were corralled and about half their number either sold at market or slaughtered for food. Winters in East Anglia were often bitter and protecting and feeding livestock was difficult, so much of the village livestock was sold or killed each autumn. Fish were caught and smoked or pickled. Fruit was dried or preserved as jam, or occasionally in the case of the New Hall preserved in olive oil, honey or was candied, Anne taking advantage of the items she imported.
Winter was coming and the main effort of the Hundred was to ensure that there would be adequate food to see them through to the following harvest. Alan also had additional shelters built for the extra livestock he intended to retain over the winter.
Anne, with a free hand from Alan whose only instruction was ‘diversify’ based on the advice he had received from Orvin, bought ‘futures’ in wool and tin with part of the available funds, and a minority stake in a tin and copper mine in Cornwall. Alan couldn’t understand the concept of buying wool or tin that didn’t yet exist, but let Anne go ahead as she seemed to know what she was doing and was using only a small part of their available capital for this speculative venture.
September brought a shortening of the days. Sunrise was half past five in the morning and sunset at seven in the evening. With the pressure off and most men trained, and to not make an issue of the number of men he had under arms, he transferred ten huscarles to Ramsey, where Hugh was also training ten apprentice Wolves and ten of the sons of the local thegns in cavalry tactics. Ten Wolves and Warren went to Bradfield, and another ten to Brand at Great Oakley. This kept the former estates of the Kemp brothers well under control and didn’t tax the accommodation facilities of any manor.
Alan retained ten trainee Wolves and ten huscarles. Each manor also acted as a training site for its own fyrd members and those of other villages. The fifty longbowmen had completed their training and returned into the local communities, only reappearing two mornings a week for training and practice. Between his own eight manors Alan had 250 properly armed and reasonably trained fyrdmen and expected to be able to count on a further 200 from those villages that had fought at Wivenhoe earlier that year, and whose thegns had received weapons and armour as part of their booty.
With the slowing of the labours of the agricultural year and the completion of the traditional task of fruit-tree pruning, Alan had the geburs of Wivenhoe prepare a defensive bailey, or burgh, at the village against future attack by the Danes and all the peasants of Wivenhoe assisted.
They were reluctant to do this, but Alan pointed out their traditional labour obligations to build and maintain the burgh (fortified place) of the village and that the work was for their benefit as there would be no manor lord in residence. The work involved digging a six-foot deep ditch around an area at the edge of the village, about an acre in size, the spoil being used as breastworks with a palisade of wooden stakes mounted above, to give the peasants a place of retreat if unexpected attack came.
The village granary and armoury were relocated inside the fortification and Alan included six small towers, each with a ballista. At Thorrington several of the Wolves and huscarles had formed relationships either with local girls or the influx of women that had come to the Hundred after the Danish raid earlier in the year- either from the refugees that had been rescued or others who had come seeking a place of safety after word of the battle had circulated amongst the freemen and women of the shire.
Nobody believed that they had seen the last of the Danish raiders and both newcomers and locals, male and female, worked with on the fortifications that they knew could any day save their lives. Indeed, the Danish raid had proved something of a boon to Tendring Hundred, and particularly Alan’s lands, with the influx of people from outside villages. The additional labour was of course valuable, but with limited land available most of the newcomers became cottars holding little if any land, but with their own cottage and a place in the community into which they were welcomed.
Less welcome was what Alan saw as the response of Engelric, Bishop William, Earl Ralph and Robert fitzWymarc. Although the king’s imposition of quotas of men-at-arms to be provided from each manor probably provided the cause, in early September Robert fitzWymarc had appointed a young Angevin Frenchman Gerard de Cholet as tenant of his village of Elmstead. Bishop William of London created two manors at Clacton, each of ten hides, and one of seven hides at St Osyth. These were held by Normans Roger de Montivilliers, Geoffrey of Rouen and the Fleming Albyn of Bruges.
Only Engelric appointed an Englishman, named Leax, formerly of Hertfordshire, as thegn to the lands he held of St Paul’s of London at Birch Hall. Fortunately Earl Ralph’s parcel of land at Little Bentley was too small to support a military tenant and remained on laen to a local freeman. All the villages concerned were within five miles of Thorrington.
Equally fortunately, the holding at Wrabness of the Church of St Edmund’s, and St Paul’s holdings at The Naze, continued to be occupied and administered by their stewards, otherwise there could have been another six Frenchmen to deal with.
The Frenchman Gerard de Cholet at Elmstead caused little problem within the Hundred, perhaps because Gerard had a benign or slothful nature, or more likely the nearness of the manor to the town administered by his lord restrained his relations with his neighbours at Great Bromley, Derleigh and Ardleigh. Alan did, however, hear comments that the villagers were not impressed with his arrogant attitude towards them.
The villages of Great and Little Clacton, now held by Normans Roger de Montivilliers and Geoffrey of Rouen, and the holding of the Fleming Albyn of Bruges at St Osyth, all Bishop William’s men, were more of a problem. At least Roger and Geoffrey held their villages without direct contact with the other local thegns.
Albyn of Bruges at St Osyth was another matter, as the village held two manors, with the other held by the thegn Edward. Edward’s land included a substantial wooded area and meadowland. Within days of Albyn’s arrival, Edward had complained to Alan that Albyn and his men had been hunting in his forest, had instructed their villagers to herd the swine into his forest to feed off the acorns and pastured cattle in his meadow. Edward had sent his steward to complain to Albyn, but the man had been soundly thrashed and driven away.
Alan rode down to St Osyth with Osmund and six huscarles, armed but unarmoured and looking impressive with their size and striking appearance. All the men wore Alan’s uniform of green, although he himself wore his trademark black tunic and hose. Alan and his men were grudgingly admitted into the small Hall. The shutters were closed, the room was quite small and smelt foul from the old and soiled rushes on the floor. Three or four Normans or Frenchmen were in evidence, carrying swords. On that basis Alan did not instruct his huscarles to disarm as was the usual courtesy. No refreshment was offered and after about fifteen minutes Albyn appeared. He was a middle-aged rotund man with a sour face and a dirty tunic.
“I’m sorry to call unannounced, so that you were unable to greet me properly, de Bruges,” said Alan, looking in a bored manner at the fingernails of his right hand. “I’m sure that your welcome would have been much more proper if you had been advised I was calling.”
“What do you want, de Gauville?” demanded Albyn harshly.
“Firstly, some common courtesy. I’m not aware that an unknighted man-at-arms, who holds a single manor as a fief, is the social equal of a knight who holds eight manors directly from the king. You, de Bruges will refer to me as ‘Sir Alan’. Secondly, I assume that the lack of refreshment offered is not a deliberate insult, but a result of you having the lack of anything suitable, wine or ale, to offer your guests. After all, one must observe the usual standards of hospitality. To business! I’m the Chief Justice of the Hundred court. I’m informed that you and your men have been riding through the lands of the thegn who has the honour to share this village with you. Not only riding, but hawking and taking deer.”
“So what of it, we can ride where we want and do what we want!” answered Albyn arrogantly.
“No, as a matter of fact, under both Norman Law and English Law which apply here, you cannot. You are entitled to ride through the woodland, but it is usual courtesy to the owner to use the roads or bridal paths. To take any of his game without his permission is an offence under both laws- theft. Any Englishman doing so is liable to pay compensation. Any Norman is liable to have both eyes put out with hot pokers and his right hand removed. You may think yourself lucky that this time Edward has instructed me that he does not wish to bring formal complaint against you. Next time, if there is a next time, he will. If you are found guilty, you’ll suffer the penalty applicable to Normans.” Albyn’s eyes bulged and his face turned red and he stuttered trying to speak.
Alan continued, “I also discussed with Edward that, in a feeling of neighbourliness, next August when the crops on your demesne are nice and high, that he and a few hundred of his friends may choose to visit you, riding through your demesne fields, line abreast. Now that would not be against the law, because as you just said anybody is free to ride their horse anywhere. That would not, of course, be of any benefit to your crops. As to the swine and cattle that keep appearing on Edward’s land and eating his feed, I’ve told him to seize them and bring case at the following Hundred Court that they are unclaimed cattle and he should apply for ownership.”
Albyn was gurgling as Alan waved him quiet. Osmund had been quietly taking written notes of the conversation.
“Now on Wednesday morning Edward’s steward, Slean, came to discuss these diverse matters with you, and I’m informed he was beaten by one of your servants, an Englishman named…Wallis,” Alan completed after a pause to check the name on a small sheet of parchment in his hand. “Can you tell me what happened?”
“Certainly, the little English shite came here, all stuck up, and told me what I had to do- or at least stop doing. So I had my servant give him a beating to teach him his manners,” replied Albyn contemptuously.
“Who else was there?” asked Alan.
Albyn shrugged. “I suppose my men, Arnaud and Josselin, my English steward Wyman and a few of the servants. I don’t know their names. Why?”
“Assault is a serious crime in England. Slean’s bot, or compensation, if proven will be six shillings for each of the teeth that he lost and a shilling for the bruising. If proven, I’ll also order a fine of the same amount, with both to be payable by you personally. Here is your Summons to attend at the Hundred court on Monday the 17th September. Fetch Wallis.” A few moments later Alan handed Wallis his Summons and explained what it meant. “A Summons will arrive in the next few days for Arnaud, Josselin and Wyman. Do not ignore the Summonses, as the penalty is forfeiture of an ox each.”
Alan leaned forward and tapped on the table in front of an angry and nonplussed Albyn. “Be under no misapprehension that the law applies to you and your men and I will impose it rigorously. The people you deal with, except your own slaves, are freemen and entitled to the protection of the law. Even every one of your own villagers. Don’t make the mistake that just because a man or woman does not speak French they are your inferior and you can do as you wish.”
“You can’t do this!” Albyn finally managed to blurt out. “I am one of Bishop William’s men. I demand trial before the Shire Court!”
“I wouldn’t care if you were the pope himself. I have jurisdiction in this Hundred, given to me by the king himself. If you were charged, which you have not been, thanks to Edward’s generosity, after I hear the case you would have the right of appeal to the Curia Regis. Of which I am also a member. Then we would see who has the greatest influence, me or your precious bishop. Don’t forget, nine in the forenoon on Monday 17th September at the Old Hall at Thorrington.”
As Alan rode back home to Thorrington he wondered whether Albyn would call his bluff. England did have laws and a legal code which at least partially codified and which largely dealt with payment of compensation for injury suffered. It even had a court system to allow the bringing of legal complaints- a system almost totally lacking in Normandy and France. The problem was that a powerful man, or even a weak man with powerful friends, could in effect ignore any claim against him. If Albyn were to stride down the main road at Thorrington killing every man that he saw, his powerful master could provide him with effective protection against any retribution.
Three days later Alan was in the Hall of Roger de Montvilliers at Great Clacton, accompanying Leofstan of Great Holland. The reception had been more polite and this time their retainer’s swords were left by the door, as was custom.
They were accompanied by four of Leofstan’s huscarles, who sat against the wall. Leofstan, Osmund and Alan sat at a table with Roger’s clerk. After a few minutes polite chat between Alan and Roger Alan said, “Leofstan here, of course, is your neighbour, but doesn’t speak much French. He does speak Latin. Do you have any English or Latin? No, well I’ll do my best to explain the problem. Leofstan tells me that there’s a woodland that’s partly on your land and partly on his estate of Little Holland. He’s mentioned to me that deer fencing has been put up on your side of the boundary, which means that the deer can freely pass from his side to yours, but can’t get back and he’s concerned that this might upset relations between your estates.”
Roger, an older and more intelligent man than Albyn, smiled and said, “I’ve heard about your recent talk with de Bruges. There is nothing illegal in putting up deer fencing on your own land.”
“Oh I quite agree,” replied Alan amiably, sipping at the cup of rather sour wine that had been provided. “And I told Leofstan the same thing. I had hoped that raising the matter in a friendly way may be able to avoid any misunderstandings that could all too easily lead to tension between neighbours. I also discussed with Leofstan that he’s been thinking of damming the local stream to provide water that he can use to make a fishery. It’s been a project of his for some time now, but he’s been putting it off because of the effect it may have on the water-mill on your land, which I understand also relies on the stream. You see, in a reasonably densely-populated area like this, we often can’t do anything without in impacting on others. Now about these fences, do you really need them…?”
The next week it was, in a way, a more simple matter to journey to Little Clacton to seize one of Geoffrey de Rouen’s men, a Norman servant named Gautier charged with rape of a woman at Weeley.
All in all, it appeared as if it would be an interesting day at the Hundred court that month.
Alan called the court to session at nine in the forenoon. As was usual for court-days, the Old Hall was packed as there was little to do for entertainment in Tendring Hundred and word had passed that this sitting was likely to be memorable. Alan announced that the usual double-sitting at each end of the Hall would not be followed due to the importance of some of the cases and his need for both scribes. He was joined on the bench by Harold of Frinton and Leofson of Moze, neither of whom had yet had dealings with the new lords of Little and Great Clacton and St Osyth. Each gave oath that they would try the cases before them that day impartially and without prejudice.
All four of the new foreign lords were present and Alan had Osmund give them a little homily on the English law system and the use of the frankpledge or frithbogh before Alan continued in Norman, “This court administers two systems of law. Norman to Normans and West Saxon to English and other foreigners. I sit with two fellow judges, who are men of noble rank and respected thegns of the Hundred. Proceedings will be conducted in English as that is the language that the judges and most of the complainants, defendants and witnesses understand.
“Today I’ll have Brother Wacian give a running commentary in French and translating question and answer for those cases involving your men. Osmund will write the transcript, and as usual this will be in Latin. He writes quicker than Brother Wacian. The judgments will be the decision of the three judges and will be handed down by me, in the case of your men both in English and French. There is a right of appeal to the Curia Regis, the King’s Council, and the transcripts are forwarded to the Royal High Chancellor as a matter of course each Quarter. If you wish to be involved in the administration of justice in this Hundred, as is both your right and responsibility, I suggest you learn English well and quickly. Now to the first case.”
Gautier was hauled before the court in chains. Not being a member of a frithbogh who would ensure his attendance, he’d been kept in custody and both his person and clothes were dirty. Initially nervous, he apparently drew heart from the presence of four lords clearly of French appearance and a dozen or so of their retainers.
Alan began, pausing after every sentence to allow translation. “Gautier of Little Clacton you are charged with the rape of a maid named Mildreth of Weeley, at Weeley on the morning of Saturday the 8th of September, the day of the Feast of the Birth of the Blessed Virgin Mary. Do you understand the charge, and if so, how do you plead?”
“Not guilty,” said Gautier in a firm voice.
“Remember you are on oath to tell the truth. This is a serious oath and if you or any of the others breach it, they are liable both to a fine and to a sentence never to shriven or to be buried in hallowed ground on their death. That means to be condemned to everlasting damnation.
“Do you agree that you were at Weeley at that time on that date? Yes. And were you there on your lord’s business? No. It is three miles from Little Clacton to Weeley, a long way to walk if you have no business there. Can you explain why you went? You just wanted to stretch your legs, you say.” Alan was translating the replies from French back into English for his fellow-judges and those in court, being careful not to place words in Gautier’s mouth. “What are your duties at Little Clacton? Lord Geoffrey’s personal servant. Stand down for a while and we will examine the complainant.”
The girl Mildreth was about fifteen years of age and quite comely, tall and blonde. She was a cheorl, a freewoman, and the daughter of Holt the cheorl who owned the dairy at Weeley. Late in the morning she had just returned to the dairy from an errand, when a man she identified as Gautier followed her in the door and immediately assaulted her, exposing her bosom, ripping her dress and after throwing her to the floor took her by force.
Her cries for assistance had immediately brought the two other girls who worked at the dairy, but they were unable to help. After several minutes a man of the village, Tobrytan, had intervened and the attacker ran off with Tobrytan raising the Hue and Cry while the other girls cared for Mildreth and took her home. She recognised Gautier and with satisfaction explained she had marked him by scratching his face with her long finger-nails. The partly healed scratches could still be seen on Gautier’s face and Alan commented that when he and the other two judges had examined the defendant a week previously the scratches had been fresh and deep. Mildreth was allowed to stand down and Gautier recalled.
“Now, before we call as witnesses the two girls in the dairy and Tobrytan the carter, and then have people swear oaths as to their reliability, do you have anything you want to say, perhaps an admission or explanation of some sort?” asked Alan.
After this was translated, Gautier suddenly spouted forth in French in what appeared to be a mixture of anger and confusion. “What is the problem? Yes, I gave the stupid whore the benefit of my ‘sword’. That’s all these English bitches are good for with their snobbish ways and failure to recognise their betters.”
“And did she consent?” asked Harold, looking at the scratches on Gautier’s face.
“I guess not,” replied Gautier, fingering the scratches. “But the bitch enjoyed every moment of having a real man for a change.”
“In the light of the defendant’s own admissions, which have been written into the transcript, I don’t see any need to continue further,” said Alan with a look at Harold and Leofson. “One question, Geoffrey de Rouen, did this man come to you that day and tell you he was being sought by the Hue and Cry?”
“Yes,” said Geoffrey from his seat near the front of the court.
“And you did nothing to bring this to the attention of the authorities?”
“No.”
“I’ll overlook that this one time, because perhaps you don’t know the laws of the land- which is a pretty poor excuse as they are the same in France. In future any failure to assist the authorities in their investigation of a crime will be punished,” said Alan. Geoffrey turned bright red with anger at this public rebuke before what he saw as his social inferiors.
Alan and the other judges retired to the backroom for a quick talk and pint of ale. When they returned Alan continued, “Gautier of Little Clacton, you have made admissions to this court that clearly show your guilt. If you were an Englishman, I would order compensation of 100 shillings. But you are not. You are a Norman, and the penalty imposed on you is that of Norman law. Let there be no misunderstanding by the Normans of this land that they can do what they want, when they want and to whom they want.
“The Norman law specifies that for the offence of rape you should hang. But King William, in his wisdom, has decreed that no Hundred court can order the death by hanging or other means of any Norman.” Here Gautier and the other Normans began smirking. “So I sentence you to the most severe penalty left to me by King William’s law. You shall have both eyes put out with a hot poker and you shall be castrated. After that you will be delivered back up to your lord’s manor at Little Clacton for him to care for you as he wishes.”
The smirks promptly disappeared from the faces of the Normans and Geoffrey strode up to the judge’s table, thumping his hand down. “You can’t do that. The man is a Norman, and I claim the right to protect him.”
“Grow up Geoffrey! A man’s nationality gives him no protection. Do you think you can ride down the main street of Little Clacton killing every Englishman you see and raping every woman? These are free men and women and they have legal rights just as do you and I, and your Norman retainers. The fact that you and your men are in a foreign country in some position of power gives you and them no more rights than if you were at home in France. Indeed less rights, as here nearly everybody is a freeman or freewoman, and not a villein or serf. Stop thinking that just because the Bishop gave you a fief that you are God and your men are Archangels. I will apply the law impartially here to every man and woman, irrespective of where they come from and what language they speak. By the way, I’d suggest that you stop beating the geburs in your village, because if one makes a formal complaint you’re likely to be spending time in the stocks. I’m sure you will find the next case of interest.”
After an adjournment the St Osyth assault case began. The case continued tri-lingually, with first Edward of St Osyth being sworn, stating that he had issues of land ownership with his neighbour Albyn of Bruges. He had sent his steward Slean to discuss these with Albyn’s steward Wyman, and if necessary with Albyn himself. Slean had returned on foot, badly beaten with two front teeth knocked out, bad facial bruising to the left of the head, bruising to the chest and ribs and two broken ribs. Slean gave evidence that he had delivered his master’s message to both Wyman and Albyn together, and that he was- apparently at Albyn’s instructions, although he could not speak French to confirm this- beaten and then thrown out of the door. Were there any other witnesses? Lord Albyn himself, his men Arnaud and Josselin, who all laughed during the beating, and several English servants.
Alan interjected and said that, to hopefully save time, rather than call Edward’s and Slean’s frithboghs to give evidence as to their oath-worthiness at this time, that Wyman should be called.
After first being reminded of the importance of his oath, Wyman gave a detailed description of how he had beaten Slean with a large stick at the instruction of Alwyn, who had kept on encouraging ‘lay on harder’. Arnaud and Josselin, knowing that they had done nothing untoward themselves, agreed that Wyman had beaten Slean in the presence of themselves and Alwyn but refused to say whether this was at Alwyn’s instruction.
When Alwyn was called to give evidence, he refused to take the oath or to make any declaration, saying that the matter had nothing to do with him. Alan carefully asked a series of questions about what had been said, why Slean had been beaten and why Alwyn had done nothing to prevent this, each of which questions Alwyn refused to answer but which clearly showed the facts of the case.
After the traditional adjournment to the back room, with the ale this time supplemented by food from the tavern, the judges returned. Alan declared Wyman guilty, but declared that the offence had taken place when he felt that he was ‘under the obligation or power of another’. He set the bot compensation at ten shillings, and a further ten shillings fine payable to the king. He also ordered that the money not be payable by Wyman’s frithbogh, but by his lord Alwyn de Bruges, who the court was satisfied had ordered the attack. Alan also enquired as to what had happened to the horse Slean had ridden to St Osyth. Wyman stated that it stood in Alwyn’s stable. Alan ordered its return and a further?2 to be paid by Alwyn to Edward within a month, for unlawful possession of property.
Alan reached over and whispered into Osmund’s ear, “I expect that Wyman will be looking for a new position by tonight. Offer him a place on one of our northern manors, perhaps as assistant-steward. He seems an honest enough man.”
Knowing that he had made two permanent enemies, but not particularly caring because they would anyway have been against him due to their allegiance with Bishop William, Alan declared the case closed, and resumed the usual double-hearing format at each end of the Hall for the standard cases of assault, drunkenness, mayhem and theft that any court has to hear.