THORRINGTON, ESSEX. JANUARY 1067
There was light snow on the ground as Alan rode into the village of Thorrington in the Hundred of Tendring in northern Essex, with four Norman men-at-arms at his back. They were the swordsmen Hugh and Baldwin, and Roger and Warren the archers. An English gebur with a light donkey cart hired in London, which carried their goods, trailed slightly behind. They had ridden the 64 miles from London to Colchester over two days, resting at Chelmsford. The road had passed through the immensity of the Waltham Forest, in which the villages of Barking, South Weald, Ingatestone and Margaretting were tiny and trivial intrusions by man into the world of nature- insignificant pockets of cleared land in an immense wilderness.
The great expanse of woodland through which the rutted and muddy dirt track that was the main road had wandered had been relatively open, with the upper storey of branches bare for the winter. Massive oak and elm trees, and the white trunks of smaller silver birch, stretched for mile after mile. Because of the dense shade cast by the trees in summer the forest was virtually clear of bushes and undergrowth, with only the trunks of the trees and the occasional fallen giant limiting visibility to 100 paces or so.
Occasionally fallow deer or muntjac had been seen either flitting through the trees or foraging for nuts lying on the ground. Squirrels and hares darted about and game birds occasionally burst into flight as the riders approached. Overhead an occasional hawk had been seen circling looking for prey.
Travellers had been few and far between. Alan’s party had overtaken a few groups on foot or slow-moving wagons drawn by oxen, the oxen occasionally being whipped by their handlers to keep them moving. In the forest most travellers moved in groups of usually of a dozen or more for safety.
It was not until they reached the more open country and arrived at the River Can at Chelmsford, where the road emerged from the great forest, that the hand of man could be seen with any regularity. Even then the land was mainly forest, woodland and waste between Witham and Braxted before the road passed into Lexden Hundred and proceeded through Feering, Stanway and Lexden before it eventually arrived at Colchester.
The traffic on the road had increased after Chelmsford, with travellers being there prepared to journey alone. Roughly dressed peasants and the poorer townsfolk and villagers had walked on foot. Merchants travelled on wagons with their goods. Hawkers walked on their way from village to village either with their goods on their backs, or those selling heavier or more bulky items using a small cart which they either pulled themselves or used a donkey or mule. Only very occasionally had the more wealthy been seen on horseback, and then usually with a handful of retainers with them. After leaving the forest the villages had been five to ten miles apart, with the cultivated land encompassing perhaps one mile on each side of the village.
They had stayed overnight at an inn in Colchester, before the next morning, the third of their journey, leaving the town at daybreak. They crossed the wooden bridge over the River Colne after paying the pontage fee and rode the six miles to Thorrington in a little over an hour, passing through the villages of Wivenhoe and Alresford on the way.
On riding through each village and town since leaving London they had felt the hostile eyes of the local population on them. The few workers out and about in the fields near Thorrington stopped their winter work of gathering wood or repairing fences and stared at the strangers as they rode past, although Alan presumed that in such an isolated area they would have done so with any passers-by.
It was Tuesday the 16th of January and a bitterly cold day. The frozen ground crunched at each step taken, and the breath of man and beast hung in the still air before them. The men sat slumped on their saddles, wrapped tightly in their thick woollen cloaks.
Despite the feeling of hostility all around them, Alan had insisted that they ride without armour. He was determined that if he was going to live in this land he was not going to live in fear of an arrow in the back. However, all five had kept their swords handy and loose in their scabbards.
Alan noted that the village of Thorrington was arranged around the usual village green, with a tavern and a small wooden church with the tithe-barn alongside. There were probably thirty cottages facing the dirt track that ran around the village green, nearly all with a small vegetable garden at the rear and many with a pig-pen or chicken coop, and often both. There was a large barn and a granary. Snow sat heavily on thatched roofs and here and there it had been blown by the wind into drifts several feet deep on the ground. Smoke rose from the stone chimney of the smithy and the regular banging of metal on metal could be heard. A stream, the beginnings of Alresford Creek, ran through the village, with a little wooden bridge over it. Just downstream of the village was the mill, its water wheel turning lazily. At the far side of the village was the manor house fortified in the usual Saxon style with a wooden palisade surrounding the Hall and its outbuildings at a distance of about twenty paces.
Beyond the village, about half a mile away near the tidal headwaters of Barfleet Creek, was the salt-house that serviced the salt pans on the flat tidal land next to Alresford Creek, Barfleet Creek and, further away, the Colne estuary near the mouth of Alresford Creek.
All the buildings in the village were of cob or half-wood construction with thatched roofs. The Hall was quite large, about forty paces long and twenty wide. Its walls were neatly lime-washed and pierced by four windows on each side, the shutters closed to keep out the winter cold. Smoke rose lazily from a small hole centrally located in the roof, and also escaped in a tendrils from the thatched roof. A stable-hand could be seen at work mucking out the stables and forking new straw into each stall. The kitchen was a separate building located about ten paces from the Hall, to minimise the risk of fire and also to keep the bustle, noise and smell of the cooking away from the nobles in the Hall.
They dismounted just inside the palisade without being challenged and having seen no guard. Alan called for the stable hand to come and take the five horses, instructing him in slow but understandable English to rub them down, water and feed them. He clapped his gloved hands together to restore circulation in the bitter cold- he had been hardly able to feel the leather straps of the reins during the ride. The noise of their arrival had attracted a small crowd and when he turned to face them Alan called out in Anglo-Saxon English, “Who’s the senior here?”
A small man with long brown hair and about thirty years of age, looking a little like a weasel and dressed traditionally in a woollen tunic with breeches and cross-leggings advanced to the front of the crowd and said, “That would be me, Sir. My name is Kendrick. What can I do for you?”
“You are aware that the former owner of this estate, Estan, died at Hastings with no heir. The king has given this estate to me and I’ve come to claim it,” said Alan. “These are my men Hugh, Baldwin, Roger and Warren. They speak little English, so some patience will be required on both sides until they learn. Now let’s get inside out of this damn cold!”
On walking inside Alan saw that most of the building was comprised of the usual single Hall, but that somewhat unusually one end of the building had been divided off into two rooms. The light in the Hall was dim, mainly cast by a roaring central fire and a few smoking rush torches set into brackets on the posts that ran in two rows down the Hall, supporting the roof. The smoke from the fire and rushes cast a haze in the air and caught at the throat. The Hall was sparsely furnished with a few benches and tables, mainly drawn near the central fireplace; a thick layer of reasonably fresh rushes were underfoot. A quick look through the door into each of the rooms showed one to be a bedchamber with a large bed and the other a solar or private sitting room.
“Firstly, show me the strong-box and give me the key,” Alan ordered Kendrick.
As was usual the strongbox was in the bedchamber, and once he had secured the key Alan was not sufficiently ill-mannered to check what it contained before he spoke to the Hall staff. Alan had Kendrick call the staff together, asked each their names and addressed them together, letting them know that, provided they performed their duties properly, their positions were secure. Alan then asked Kendrick to call a meeting of all the freemen of the village the following day, to be held at the tithe-barn at noon with the church bell to be rung before the meeting, and before that for Alan to meet with both the village head-man Tolland, a wealthy cheorl, and also the village priest.
Next Alan went into the bedchamber and used the key to open the strongbox. There was very little money in the box, less than?1, and no books of account. Most importantly it contained the ownership records for the manor, the landboc, confirming the grant of land to Estan by King Edward. Alan went back out into the Hall and sat on a bench at a scrubbed wooden table near the fire, still with his thick green woollen cloak wrapped around him as he ate a bowl of thick vegetable pottage and warmed his hands on a cup of mulled ale.
When he had finished eating he collected the bottle of ink that he had set by the fire to thaw, and a quill and parchment from his bag, before returning to the table and queried Kendrick about the accounts. He was told that there were no books of account, Kendrick using the ‘poor illiterate and ignorant servant’ routine. On being pressed Kendrick agreed that perhaps there were some books that Estan had kept and promised to look for them amongst his former master’s possessions.
Alan then had Kendrick sit and specify the obligations of each cheorl, sokeman, gebur and cottar and the names and details of each slave, while he made notes with quill and ink on parchment for future reference.
That night Alan slept in the bedchamber. His men slept in the solar and took turns to stand guard outside the adjacent doors of the two rooms, while the remainder slept.
At Terce the following morning Tolland arrived. Life in the country was more difficult than life in the city for several reasons; one being the difficulty in arranging and attending meetings. In the absence of abbey bells ringing every three hours, time was largely a matter of mutual consent.
Tolland was a large and strongly built man of middle years with dark hair. He was a wealthy freeman, as was shown by the well-made but not ostentatious brown woollen tunic and trews that he wore. He brought with him his deputy, Erian the Taverner, a portly man of medium height.
Alan grasped forearms with both and invited them to sit at the high table and eat and drink as they talked. Alan had Tolland give a general description of the village and its inhabitants and the way that cultivation of the land occurred. “This looks like a prosperous and well-run community. I have two ploughs and teams, and the men of the village have three,” said Alan. “There are four hides of land- that is 480 acres, of which about one third is in my demesne. The king has decreed that geld will again be payable, and the village assessment is 8 shillings a year. One third of that is payable by me. That’s two shillings and seven pence. The rest is payable by the freemen of the village, payable in instalments each Quarter Day. For the freemen of the village to pay the geld each Quarter Day, the first on Lady Day in just under three months, is likely to take food from the mouths and clothes from the backs of your villagers. That is not in the interests of either myself or the villagers, who I see as being my people.”
Toland frowned and nodded his acknowledgement of what Alan had said. “Why the imposition of the geld, after fifteen years? I would have thought with the coming of the Normans we would be safer from attack by the Danes, rather than more vulnerable. Does the king intend to reintroduce the fleet that Edward paid off fifteen years ago, and hire more huscarles?” asked Tolland astutely.
“I doubt it,” replied Alan honestly. “It’s a revenue-raising exercise that we all must pay, Norman and English alike. In addition, I have to provide six mounted and armoured men-at-arms for forty days a year- not just from this village but from all the manors I have been given in this Hundred. At least myself, and the villagers in my honour, do not have to pay the Heriot that many of the thegns and even the Church will have to pay. In the end it is the freemen who suffer, as all the wealth of the land comes from their efforts. What is my problem is also the problem of the village, down to the lowest slave. And vice versa- what is the village’s problem is my problem, as I’m responsible for all that happens here. So we have a problem that affects us all.
“As you know, I’ve called a village meeting for later today. I would suggest that you seek the counsel of the other senior cheorls in the village. My suggestion is that what we should do is to increase production so that we have more to sell and can pay the taxes. I see three ways we can do this.
“Firstly, there is waste land outside the area that the village now cultivates, which can relatively easily be brought into cultivation. It is further away and less fertile than the land currently used, but at least we won’t have to clear it of trees as this Hundred is largely open land.
“Secondly, we can increase the number of saltpans we have in operation. Currently I have one on the estuary, one on Alresford Creek and two on Barfleet Creek. Over the next few weeks I’ll be using the labour owed to me to build another salt-pan for my demesne in each location. Salt is a high-value item that we can all sell easily. I suggest that the village also increases its salt pans. I understand it has two pans on the estuary, one on Alresford Creek and three on Barfleet Creek. Unless we have a particularly wet summer the salt pans bring in a good and regular income with minimal work.” Alan didn’t mention that all of the salt would be processed through his salt house, with him retaining ten percent of the salt processed for other producers.
“Thirdly, I’ll be changing my demesne land over from the two-field cultivation system to the three-field system that is becoming common on the continent. Instead of two fields, one in cultivation and one lying fallow, there are three. One is planted for winter wheat and barley, one is planted with spring crops such as wheat, oats, barley, or rye and the third is either left fallow or preferably planted with legumes- beans and alfalfa. This increases the land under cultivation by one third. The planting rate is also to be increased on my land from two bushels of seed per acre to three. With proper fertilizing and marling of the land I can get six times the seed return for wheat, or more, instead of the usual four. I’ll have just over 100 acres of land under cultivation each year instead of 70 and I’ll more than double the number bushels I harvest, with little impact of labour because the ploughings and plantings take place twice a year, but each occupies less time.”
Tolland was an intelligent man who could read and write. Moreover, like all farmers he could count and could calculate bushels per acre in his head. However, again like all farmers, he was also very conservative. What had been good enough for his grandfather on the same land should be good enough for him. However, he did appreciate the need to increase village income to pay the new tax, or suffer reduced living standards in good years and starvation in bad years. He promised to discuss the ideas with the other village elders and raise the matter at the folkmoot called by him at Alan’s request later that day.
Next Alan met with the parish priest, Brother Godwine. Brother Godwine attended in his own good time, coming late- perhaps in the hope of an invitation to the mid-day meal. In this he was disappointed as Alan was less than impressed with the man whose parish took in the villages of Thorrington, Brightlingsea, Frating, Frowick Hall and another of Alan’s manors at Great Bentley, which was laenland leased by a thegn called Swein.
Brother Godwine was fat, which Alan could accept. However, he couldn’t accept the priest’s unctuous and falsely servile manner, and his lack of personal hygiene with his cassock dirty from accumulated food-stains and odiferous from both the garment and its owner being unwashed. The lack of learning of the priest and his simple stupidity were also not acceptable to Alan. He had also gathered from comments made by Kendrick that the priest kept a mistress at Frating. The priest was also lazy, in that with Tendring as a central location, Brightlingsea at three and a half miles was the greatest distance he had to travel and the other villages were only two miles away- yet Brother Godwine performed Sunday Mass in only one village each week.
Alan informed him in no uncertain terms that this was not acceptable and that Mass would be said in Thorrington each Sunday morning at Terce at midmorning, Great Bentley at Sext at noon and in one other village at None at mid-afternoon. The remaining village would have Mass said on one other day of the week, or in summer on Sunday at Vespers in the evening.
Alan also instructed Brother Godwine that he would attend each of the villages for one day a week to visit the ill and infirm, give them the sacraments individually, hear confessions and tend to the poor and wealthy alike. Brother Godwine was horrified to hear that he was apparently expected to work for the benefice that was within Alan’s power to maintain or withdraw, together with the income the priest received from both the tithes that all in the area paid into his tithe-barn and the produce from the strips in the village fields allocated to him but worked on his behalf by the villagers. He had an easy life with virtually all the work required to maintain him in comfort being performed by others.
Brother Godwine bleated about the time taken to travel from place to place and the very onerous nature of his duties. Alan’s reply was unsympathetic and cold. “You are not owed a living, and a rich living, by this parish. You earn it, just as every other man in the parish earns what he receives. As regards travel, buy a hackney or a mule. That’ll get you from one village to the next in less than half an hour. God knows that you can afford it just from the tithes you receive just from my estate. If you prefer, I can give you one as my next month’s tithe payment. Your onerous duties? Try spending more time tending to your flock and less time tending to your mistress in Frating- more time in church hearing confessions and performing Mass and less time in bed fornicating and sinning. You can either modify your ways or find another position. This is my first and final warning to you.”
The folkmoot was held on the village green, as not just the freemen of the village wanted to attend, but also their womenfolk and children of all ages. Even the few slaves were there, and Alan allowed them to remain rather than chasing them off to work. Fortunately the weather remained clear, but cold.
Alan stood on a couple of wooden boxes which had been put together under the Old Oak tree, now bare for the winter, in the middle of the green. “Welcome to the free-folk of Thorrington, men and women both! Cheorls, geburs, sokemen and cottars! Thank you for spending your time to come to listen to the important information that I have to give you.
“Firstly I’ll say the obvious. Last year the Normans, and others, came to this land in war. Earlier in the year there were battles in the north. Then the Normans fought against Harold Godwinson and his army at Hastings, where they prevailed. Some see this as being as a result of Pope Alexander’s blessing of William of Normandy’s claim and the fact that William’s army fought under the papal banner at Hastings. For whatever reason, the Normans won a victory.
“Harold and his brothers lie dead and buried. William has been anointed king of England by Ealdred, the same Archbishop of York who crowned Harold, with the acclamation of all there present, including many English nobles.” There was a dead and clearly unhappy silence when Alan paused. “England has been invaded many times over the years by several nations, and each has appointed its own king and had its own nobility take control of the country. That is the same this time. I’ve been appointed by King William as owner of this village, and much of Tendring Hundred. At least I do speak some English! Had the Norwegians prevailed your Norse lord may not have done so. My men Hugh, Baldwin, Warren and Roger are learning the language, so please bear with their ignorance as they learn.
“Your status has not changed. Those nobles who were thegns before remain thegns. Those who were cheorls remain cheorls, and so on. Your freedom and your rights have not altered. All but the slaves remain geburs, freemen. The laws of Edward and his predecessors still apply to you. The frithbogh system of pledges for each other’s good behaviour remains, as do the fines and wergild of Edward. Indeed, King William is reinforcing the frithbogh tithing by having lords and royal officials ensure that all men belong to a frithbogh.” There was a growing murmur of discussion and general relief at this point. “Let me make it clear that the Normans are not subject to English laws. They are subject to Norman laws, which in many cases are much more harsh. If an Englishman kills unlawfully, he and his frithbogh pay wergild of 200 shillings. If a Norman is convicted of killing unlawfully, including killing an Englishman, the penalty is hanging- with no option of wergild or bot.
“Now to the bad news. You’ll have to deal with the fact that Normans control this land, under God and the Law. Most Normans are arrogant, ruthless and care little or nothing for those of a lesser social level. I hope that that’s not true of me and my men, but is a general fact that you will have to deal with. And for the worst news of all. The geld tax has been reintroduced, the first instalment is due on Lady Day on 25th March. The assessment for this village is 3 shillings. One third of that will be paid by me, as I own one third of the land. The rest will be payable by the freemen of the village.
“I will be making changes to the way that my demesne land is farmed, to increase productivity so that I can pay my share of the taxes without suffering undue hardship. I’ll also be building more saltpans for my demesne and taking to plough some of the waste-land outside the village land, land that is some distance away and is of marginal fertility. I understand that Tolland and the village elders will be addressing you after I finish and I’ll then leave you to your deliberations.
“However, before that are two other issues. Firstly, Brother Godwine will be presenting Mass every Sunday at the church here at Terce, and will spend each Tuesday ministering to the ill and those in need in this village. Secondly, I’m looking for warriors. Twenty men who will fight on horseback in the Norman fashion, equipped and trained by me, to be employed full- time. That includes me providing horse, armour and weapons, food and accommodation and half a shilling a week. I also require twenty archers, who will spend an initial short period of training and then train for half a day twice a week and be available to my call- otherwise they’ll be free to pursue their normal occupation. If any men feels a call to do something other than walk behind a plough, see Kendrick. We’ll also arrange regular training for the fyrd members on Sundays. Now I’ll leave you to Tolland and the elders to discuss together the issues I’ve raised.” Alan raised a hand in farewell, stepped off the boxes and with a nod to Tolland he and the other Normans walked off to the manor house.
Back at Thorrington Hall, just before dark at a little after four in the afternoon, Kendrick advised Alan that Tolland would like to meet with him and would arrive shortly. In the interim Hugh had a word with Alan. “Kendrick tells me that we have ten potential volunteers as bowmen and four men who wanted to train full-time as cavalry, all of whom can already ride. Do you want to interview them, or should I?” asked Hugh. “Right, I’ll do it in the morning. Lack of suitable horses for further volunteers is going to be a problem shortly as there were only five horses in the stables until we arrived with our five beasts.”
When Tolland arrived he was glad of the offer of a cup of hot mulled wine and passed on the information of the outcome of the folkmoot. “The geburs recognise that we’ll all have to work a bit harder to pay our taxes. Your suggestion about the extra saltpans was accepted well. They’ll need some labour to set up, but that shouldn’t be too hard to do on the flat low-lying land next to the current pans. Once that’s done the salt harvest in early autumn is easy. Planting peas, beans and alfalfa in the fallow fields also makes sense to us, both to improve the soil and provide either crops or better grazing for the animals. But, while we can see the theoretical benefits of a change to the three-field system of agriculture, we are traditional and know what works. Most think why should we change something that works? We’ll provide some extra ‘boon days’ of labour, free of charge, to help you implement your plans on the demesne land if needed and wait and see what is the outcome of your experiment.”
“That’s good news,” said Alan. “I appreciate the offer of labour and of course I’ll supply the usual food and drink on any labour days. I also appreciate it’s difficult for men to change their habits and embrace new practices until they are proven to be of value. I’m also prepared to make an offer and will waive my usual rights as landowner regarding minor game. Village men will be permitted to freely take hares, squirrels, fox and pigeons, and what fish they can take from the shore of the estuary or the banks of the creeks by use of hook and line. This excludes the larger wild game and game birds, of course, and is to be only for the use of the family of the villager who does the hunting- no barter or sale, except of skins. That should put meat into nearly every pot in the village at least several times a week.”
Tolland, taken somewhat by surprise by the generous offer, expressed his gratitude. By law, both Anglo-Saxon and Norman, all game whether great or small was reserved to the lord of the manor. Many of the villagers engaged in the occasional minor poaching, but the right to freely take the smaller wildlife would significantly increase the amount of meat available to the villagers and provide a more varied and healthier diet.
All in all the discussion had given something for everybody and Alan expected much goodwill to flow from the waiving of rights on minor game. Everybody likes something for nothing and in the context of the village food supply this was a significant concession by him as lord. From a personal perspective Alan saw it as costing him nothing as there were ample fish in the river and sea and he was not interested in eating hares and squirrels. He also intended to plant most of his own fallow land with beans and allow the villagers to harvest them before the beasts were allowed to graze. The legumes would improve the soil, and the improved diet of the villagers would increase the amount of work each man and woman could perform. ‘Everybody a winner,’ mused Alan.
Next day Alan, Baldwin and Warren rode out to Great Bentley and Tendring, meeting with Swein, who held Great Bentley on laen from Alan, and a courtesy call on the thegns of Tendring. These were Frewin, who held just half a hide of land, some 60 acres, and also Alfward. Ednoth, the other major landholder, lived on his larger estate at Little Oakley. Swein appeared not to be disconcerted to have a Norman as his new lord, although unsurprisingly was disgruntled about the geld tax that would cost him?6 a year. Alan made a number of suggestions about increasing the manor income to help cover the impost, but Swein appeared to be a man who did not understand the land or its management and commented only that he would think about increasing the number of saltpans as Alan suggested.
Two days later Alan rode through the village of Tendring to his manor at Beaumont three miles beyond, a distance of ten miles which took about an hour with the horses at a quick walk. He was accompanied by four of the now eight new recruits for his cavalry unit, Ainulf, Edric, Alfward and Ledmer. They looked resplendent in their mail hauberks (repaired ex-Hastings purchases), helmets, green-painted kite shaped-shields and green cloaks tied closely about them against the light snow that was falling. The fact that each hardly knew which end of a sword to hold didn’t affect their impressiveness or their feeling of smug self-satisfaction.
Beaumont was a small manor of only two hides, some 240 acres, but with rich soil. It had seven ploughs and oxen teams, two salt houses, six taxed beehives (and many more untaxed ones relocated whenever the tax assessors called) and most importantly a mill. This was one of the properties formerly owned by Wulfwin and the steward was a relatively young and apparently capable man called Siric. It formed part of the parish that included the villages of Moze, Birch Hall and Tendring, the priest’s benefice being in the gift of Leofson of Moze. The priest, by name Edwin, was at his home at Birch Hall. According to Siric the priest was quite elderly but conscientious in the performance of his duties. The head-cheorl was Alstan. Although with only half the cultivated land of Thorrington, Beaumont was sufficiently wealthy that it had twice the amount of assessed annual geld.
This was a small but rich manor that Alan was determined would be administered properly. The procedure followed by Alan was virtually identical to that when he took possession of Thorrington, although the strong-box was reasonably full of silver pennies, about?2 worth. The outcome of the folkmoot was similar to that at Thorrington and Alan gave similar instructions to Siric about the use of the demesne land and building more saltpans. Alan also gave the same spiel about wanting more mounted men-at-arms, this time the message being reinforced by the immaculate and impressive presence at his back of the four horsemen who had already commenced training.
Alan by-passed Great Oakley, a manor he had ‘inherited’ from Aelfric Kemp. Wulfwin had lived in Lexden Hundred near Colchester and Estan had died without issue. Kemp had died leaving family, two brothers, and Alan intended to deal with them last. Instead, he called at Little Oakley as a courtesy to see thegn Ednoth, who also held land at Tendring and who Alan had not seen on his visit to that village, before proceeding in the afternoon to another of Wulfric’s former properties at Dovercourt, eight miles from Beaumont.
Dovercourt was in laen to the thegn Toli and Alan spent a convivial evening with the thegn, his steward Haldane and head-cheorl Ordmer and the guests invited by Toli. The village was quite wealthy with six hides of land, nine ploughs (three belonging to the lord) and with a large flock of sheep and herd of cattle. Toli had taken the opportunity to invite Brictmer of Great Bromley, Ednoth from Little Oakley, Adamnan the steward to Queen Edith’s lands at Wix, Werian the steward of Alan’s own land at Bradfield and also Courtney, Alan’s steward from Great Oakley, and Alwin from Little Bromley.
Alan gave the same talk about succession and taxes as he had at Thorrington. The financial implications were of obvious concern to the English and they chatted amongst themselves after Alan had finished his speech.
After a while Toli urged, “Tell us about the great battle. None of us were there, and those who went to the battle did not return. The earl made his call and those with standing forces departed and did not return. These included Wulfwin, from his lands further west, Alfred Kemp and Estan. Those of us who needed to call in our men had just about reached London when word of the outcome of the battle reached us.”
Alan felt warmed by the invitation and the implicit acceptance given by the request. He also appreciated that the semi-illiterate loved a good story. “Well, as you would expect, we Normans marched from Hastings at dawn. It was difficult country and we were marching along what was little more than a track. We came across the English line about an hour before Terce. They were in a superb defensive position on a steep hill with streams and marshy ground to their front, followed by a ploughed field. Each flank was protected by steep terrain and the trees of the Andreswald.
“The armies were nearly equal in numbers. Probably the English had 1,000 or maybe 2,000 more men, but many were fyrdmen. A third of the Norman forces were heavy cavalry.” Alan described the battlefield and gave a detailed description of the battle to the point that he had departed, the thegns and their men nodding their understanding as he proceeded.
“Why do you think we lost?” asked Ednoth.
“Several factors,” replied Alan. “The main factor was probably the archers and crossbowmen, which over time bled the shield-wall of men. The nature of the land took away the Norman cavalry’s ability to manoeuvre and made head-on attacks both difficult and costly. The English heavy infantry were better than the Norman and French infantry and were strongly positioned. But the archers and crossbowmen could stand off and slowly bleed the defenders to death.”
He took a sip of ale from the tankard before him on the table and continued, “The disposition and arranging of the Saxon infantry was poor. They just seem to have gone into line in the order they arrived with no real organisation or control of the forces that I could see. Also Leofric and Gyrth being killed early in the day didn’t help. When the last of the Godwinsons died there was nobody left to conduct a fighting withdrawal, and nobody able to raise and lead a new army. The main issue was the slow loss of the men on the shield-wall, the King’s Thegns, Royal Huscarles and the lesser thegns and huscarles, meant that eventually the line was shortened enough until some horsemen could get up the west flank. It appeared the thegns wouldn’t allow the fyrdmen to stand in the shield-wall- the line was still four or six deep at the end.”
“What about the loss of men who chased the Bretons down the hill?” queried Ednoth.
“I don’t think that made much difference,” replied Alan with a shrug. “The English had plenty of men and nearly all those lost in that undisciplined charge were fyrdmen armed with a spear or pitchfork, not professional soldiers. Sword-fodder,” said Alan dismissively.
Alan found it interesting that the thegns and cheorls had been keen to hear the story of the battle, even from a man who had been on the other side and facing up the hill, and he had deliberately cast his story to be factual and impartial. Afterwards the evening progressed to heavy drinking and the telling of amusing or ribald stories and jokes, frequently at the expense of either some of those present or other men of local note.
The next day, nursing a slight hang-over, Alan girded his loins to confront the Kemps, brothers of the dead Aelfric. Toli had described them the night before as two impetuous youths of sixteen and seventeen named Aelfhare and Bertholf, who had taken it upon themselves to assume the ownership of Aelfric’s three rich manors and who were both currently living at the Manor Hall at Ramsey. Toli’s comment was that they thought more with their fists and swords and that was why Aelfric’s father had left all three manors to him, instead of leaving one to each son.
Alan asked Toli to accompany him as a witness, and Toli arranged for Dovercourt’s head-cheorl Ordmer and two seasoned fyrdmen to also join them. All were armed with swords. The new cavalrymen Ainulf, Edric, Alfward and Ledmer proudly wore their armour. Alan had been in two minds about that, feeling it may cause unnecessary friction but in the end deciding it made a point, and that the inexperienced cavalrymen would benefit from the extra self-confidence that wearing mail would give.
To be sure of meeting Aelfhare and Bertholf at home they departed at daybreak, and the two and a half mile ride to Ramsey took about fifteen minutes. Ramsey was a large, relatively populous and neat village with about fifty cottages, a mill and a salt house. Unlike many English villages its buildings were extended along the road, rather than being arranged around a central village green. The village was about a mile inland from the sea; the land was flat, with over seven hides of land and a small area of woodland. It had significant pasture and meadowland, which the Kemp family had used to build up a large sheep flock, cattle herd and a horse stud.
The Manor House was on the east of the town. The nine riders dismounted in the forecourt, where they received a mixed reception as, although Toli was a respected neighbour, Alan’s companions were dressed in Norman armour and Alan in a non-descript but now travel-stained black tunic and trousers. A short man of slight build and few years with long dark hair hurried out of the Hall. “Aelfhare,” murmured Toli in Alan’s ear, followed a few moments later by another man slightly younger but taller and more heavily built. “Bertholf.”
“Greetings, Toli! What brings you here so early in the day? Have you broken your fast, or would you like something to eat?” asked Aelfhare, whose sharp eyes were taking in the weapons that the visitors carried and the foreign armour worn by men who, by their appearance and hairstyles, were Englishmen.
“I have eaten, thank you. Myself and my men have been asked here as witness by my new landrica, Alan,” said Toli. Since coming to Tendring Hundred Alan had deliberately not described himself as ‘de Gauville’ nor emphasised his Norman nobility by the use of the honorific ‘Sir’.
Alan stepped forward, towering over the smaller Englishman, who barely came up to his chest. “You are aware that your brother Aelfric died in battle at Hastings and that the land of all who did so has been declared forfeit by King William. The three manors formerly held by your brother have been given to me as landboc. I’m the new owner.”
Bertholf spat on the ground, deliberately near Alan’s feet. “I give that for your king and his proclamations!” he said aggressively. Alan noticed out of the corner of his eye that three of his own companion’s hands had gone to their swords and were gripping the hilts. Edric, who preferred the single-handed battle-axe, unclipped it from his belt and held the end of its two and a half foot haft, while resting the eight-inch polished steel head on his shoulder. The movements also caught the eye of the two Kemp brothers who, while they could call on many more men, did not have men under arms immediately available.
Alan spoke in a dangerously quiet voice, while resting his hand on the hilt of his still un-drawn sword. “King William was anointed by Ealdred, Archbishop of York, the same man who crowned Harold Godwinson. Stigand, Archbishop of Canterbury and all the nobles of England have submitted to him. He is not just my king, he is also your king and to defy his edicts is treason punishable by death. I’m also Chief Judge of the Hundred court. I’m happy to carry out sentence here and now if that is your wish? I am prepared to give the two of you three days to vacate the manors. I’m seeking skilled and obedient warriors who will follow my orders. If you wish, I may be prepared to give you a trial amongst my warriors, which may in time result in you being granted laenland. I make no promises and that would depend on both your skills and your attitude, which has been lacking so far today. Take me to the manor strongbox now.”
There was no movement on the part of the brothers. Alan sighed and drew his sword, as did his companions. Toli and Ordmer moved back to give them room. “Who is the steward here?” There was no reply, but several others shuffled away from one man who was left standing alone. “Your name?” asked Alan.
“Durand,” was the reply.
“Well, Durand, you have a chance in the next few seconds to possibly keep your position secure, and to keep your head on your shoulders. The strongbox will be in the bedchamber or solar. I’ll find it within a minute or so and if I don’t have the key, Edric here will simply hit it a few times with his axe.” Alan placed his drawn sword against the steward’s throat. “Your choice,” he said.
Durand suddenly found the key easily enough, and as expected the strongbox was in the bedchamber. With a turn of the key and a loud click it opened. It contained cash, which without counting it Alan estimated about?6. More importantly it also contained the landbocs that showed ownership of all three manors and the books of account of all three manors. Alan had these placed in a large sack, to be tied to the pack on a spare horse that Alan took from the stable.
“Remember. I’ll be back in three days,” said Alan to the two brothers as he and his party mounted. They then rode the five miles west to Bradfield, the nearest of the other Kemp manors. That manor was of four and a half hides of land, good farmland with saltpans and a salt house. Already having the landboc, Alan forced the steward Werian into submission and took possession of about?2 in cash and the latest accounting books. Then they retraced their path back to Great Oakley, the second largest of the Kemp estates, four and a half miles to the east. On arrival there they met with the steward Courtney, who told them that Bertholf had been there shortly before and emptied the strongbox of cash, which Courtney estimated at?3, but he had left the accounting books, which Alan now removed.
After parting with Toli and his men at Great Oakley, with thanks for their assistance, Alan and his men arrived back at Thorrington just before dark on Saturday 29th January.
The next day Brother Godwine performed Sunday Mass at Terce as instructed and most of the village spent the Lord’s Day in rest or in the tavern, as their leanings took them. Alan spent the day trying to decipher and gain an understanding of the books of account of Aelfric Kemp. The cash collected from Ramsey and Bradfield came to?6 4/ and 8p, which was a little less than the books indicated, but didn’t seem unduly deficient. The books also indicated there should have been?4 2/ at Great Oakley, had the Kemps not got there first.
Late on Monday morning Alan and Hugh were teaching swordsmanship to the trainee men-at-arms, now ten in number, and Roger was working with five of the village peasant archers at the butts, when word came that a group of horsemen was approaching from the north.
Alan told Hugh to gather their men, but keep them in the background at the moment. Alan quickly swapped the training sword he had been using for his usual sword Blue Fire, called Baldwin to stand with him and for Kendrick to gather a couple of stable hands. He then waited the few minutes until the visitors rode up. As the riders rode through the gate Alan was standing in his padded practice gambeson jacket, hot and sweaty. He recognised Aelfhare and Bertholf and several others from Ramsey, as well as Frewin and Alward, thegns from Tendring who had each brought one man.
Following protocol Alan first greeted his equals Frewin and Alward. Alward commented that Aelfhare and Bertholf had been riding through Tendring and from the comments they had made when he had offered them a sup of ale in his Hall as refreshment, he and Frewin had felt that they should accompany them to ensure that nothing untoward happened.
Alan did not invite the visitors into the Hall and after they dismounted they stood in the forecourt in the thin sunlight of the chill January day. “What can I do for you Aelfhare and Bertholf? We spoke on Saturday and I gave you until tomorrow to vacate the manors you are illegally holding. By the way you owe me the?4 2/ you removed from the strongbox at Great Oakley. Is it that you have come to pay that?”
Bertholf snarled, “You wish! No, we have come to dispute your right to take the manors from us.”
Alan gestured to Kendrick, who handed the rolled parchment Charter from King William to Alan, who in turn handed it to Alward. “Please read it aloud Alward, it is written in both Latin and English with the king’s Great Seal at the foot.”
Alward read aloud the flowery language that granted the honour to Alan, concluding, “Signed and sealed this 27th day of December 1066. William, king of England. I’m sorry Aelfhare and Bertholf, but as one of the Hundred thegns I accept that this is valid and must act to uphold it.”
“I offered you employment fit for your station and the possibility of advancement when we last spoke,” said Alan. “Those offers are now revoked. Make sure you are out of the Hundred by mid-night tomorrow. Alward and Frewin, may I invite you inside for refreshments while these geburs take themselves off? By the way Aelfhare and Bertholf, the horses you ride belong to me. Make sure you leave them behind when you depart.”
With a snarl Bertholf launched himself forward, moving to draw his sword from its scabbard. The sword was less than half out when an arrow thumped into his chest, stopping Bertholf two paces away from Alan. With a surprised expression on his face he began to collapse. Alan glanced back over his shoulder and saw Roger reaching for a new arrow from his quiver.
Aelfhare shouted, “No!” and drew his own sword as he raced towards Alan. Initially Alan didn’t move, although he rose onto the balls of his feet ready to dodge as required. Three paces before he reached Alan, and just as Alan began to move his feet and right hand, four arrows thumped into Aelfhare’s chest, dropping him like a hare. Glancing back over his shoulder again Alan saw that four of his English archers were notching new arrows in their bows.
Alan looked at the four Englishmen from Ramsey and asked, “Anybody else? You all saw me attacked without provocation outside my own Hall by armed guests.” Turning to the practical he asked Alward, “Do they have any kin surviving?”
“I think perhaps a sister over Meldon way,” Alward replied.
“I’ll arrange their burial in the churchyard there and have their bodies taken to the church now. Brother Godwine is around somewhere and can say Last Rights. Alward, can you send a message to this sister and tell them of the death of her brothers and the fact that they died attacking their liege lord without provocation? I’ll arrange men to go to Great Oakley, Ramsey and Bradfield today. Can you arrange your men here to accompany mine and act as witnesses to what has occurred? I would prefer to avoid further conflict when my men take possession of those manors. Roger, you can give your men the rest of the day off, take them down to the tavern and buy them a few quarts of ale. I think that they’ve deserved it.”
As Alan escorted the thegns and their men into the Hall, he heard one of his archers named Barclay rather loudly proclaiming, “He may be a ?lfremede foreigner, but lord Alan has done right by us and our village and I wasn’t going to let no bastard from Ramsey cut him down unprovoked when he wasn’t defending himself,” which gave him a warm feeling of both belonging and responsibility.
After giving Frewin and Alward a rather abbreviated mid-day meal, accompanied by wine and ale, Alan expressed a wish to leave early to take possession of the estates of Great Oakley, Ramsey and Bradfield, preferring to ride with Frewin and Alward as far as Tendring, but offering his guests further hospitality if they wished to stay. Both declared themselves ready to leave at once. Using an ‘all hands on deck’ approach to avoid potential problems, Alan decided to take Ainulf, Edric, Alfward and Ledmer and four archers to Ramsey, where any problems were likely to occur. Warren was to take three archers and two horsemen to Great Oakley, and Baldwin three archers and two horsemen to Bradfield. Frewin and Alward agreed to send one man as an independent witness to each village. This left Hugh and Roger at Thorrington to conduct training, but had removed all the current recruits, making them temporarily superfluous.
They rode out in the early afternoon, allowing ample time to return the two thegns home and proceed on to their destinations.
Alan, with Edric ‘The Axe’, Ledmer and Alfward, together with archers Barclay, Abracan, Aethelbald and Oswy and Frewin’s man Irwin arrived at Ramsey as darkness was setting in. Of the archers Barclay was officially a hunter, although Alan suspected that both he and Aethelbald had in fact been poachers.
Aelfhare’s and Bertholf’s companions had arrived an hour or so before, and the Hall was in uproar at the news of the death of their lords.
Alan called for the steward Durand to maintain calm and asked for the four village elders, including head-cheorl Putman, to attend at the Hall immediately. A few minutes later, standing at the end of the Hall with his men at his back, Alan explained to the elders and the retainers in the Hall the details of the deaths of Aelfhare and Bertholf. He stated that both had come uninvited to his Hall and attempted to kill him. Frewin’s man Irwin, as independent witness, confirmed this.
Alan advised all that he and his men would be taking possession of the three manors and that he expected, nay demanded, the whole-hearted co-operation of all the people in each manor. No argument from either those who lived at the Hall or in the village would be tolerated. The manors would be ruled with an iron fist in an iron glove. Those retainers who proved their worth and reliability would be rewarded. Those who did not would be released to find alternative service forthwith.
That night Alan slept in the bedchamber together with most of his men, with two men on guard outside the door.
The next day, Tuesday, Alan visited the horse stud property that the Kemps had developed just outside the village. He arranged with stud-master Roweson that the eighteen horses that had reached three years of age would be sent to Thorrington at once. He also promised additional breeding stock, including chargers, rather than just rounceys, and in the springtime the use of his own destrier stallion for breeding duties with suitably chosen mares.
Over the next week the situation settled down. Alan arranged with Toli of Dovercourt to borrow a huscarle who would administer Bradfield. Baldwin would base himself at Ramsey and train a squadron of ten horsemen, and Warren would supervise Great Oakley and train a squad of archers there.
Alan and most of the cavalry and archers returned home to Thorrington on Saturday 27th January. There he found to his pleasant surprise that Toland had used this normally quiet time of the year for the peasants to get busy with the construction of the new saltpans, which were nearly complete.
Construction had not been difficult as the land selected had a clay base, was very flat and below the level the sea reached each month on the flood-tide- although the sea would be held back from flooding the saltpans by levees. Toland had arranged for Aethelhard the blacksmith to make a metal cutting edge on a strong wooden board ten feet wide, which was pulled by a team of six oxen, up and down, across and diagonally on the salt pan. This deepened the pan and levelled its floor and also provided the clay soil with which to build the levees three feet high around each pan.
Using the ox-pulled board method Toland had the villagers make a single large expanse of pan, which was then in the process of being divided into smaller pans by inserting intervening levees. Sliding wooden sluice gates were inserted in the levees next to the estuary or tidal creek. Alan suggested building in a fall in level across the pan and intervening sluices, so that water of increasingly high salinity resulting from solar evaporation could be drained from one pan to the next to facilitate harvesting at the end of summer, when most of the salt would then be in the final one or two pans. With these modifications the pans were soon completed and Alan arranged for the loan of the levelling board- and for Toland to visit in turn Great Oakley, Beaumont, Bradfield and Great Bentley to advise their head-cheorls on the new construction method they had devised.
Alan also gave Kendrick and Toland the bad news that after completion and filling of the saltpans that he wanted the construction of a barracks for sixty men and a stable for thirty horses, together with a barn and armoury. These were to be built on the north side of the village close to Alresford Creek, and within the grounds of the fortification that he intended to build.
After marking out the land Alan specified that the cottars would work their two days a week, the cheorls and sokeman their three days a week and his six slaves full time on digging a ditch, rampart and palisade after the barracks and stables had been completed. He also specified that the barracks was to be of two storeys and that all the buildings within the bailey were to be roofed with wooden shingles, not thatch, to reduce the risk of fire.
Work would proceed as and when labour was available, with agricultural duties taking precedence- but each peasant and slave was expected to work their full labour allocations each week- and to work hard and for the full day. The intervention of bad weather was to be deducted from their own time, not his.
This wasn’t as drastic a demand as it may appear, as a sokeman or cheorl usually had several adult members of the family available to provide labour. A cottar, who owed a corvee of two days a week labour for rent of his house and a small parcel of land, usually worked the remaining four days a week for pay. These were usually ‘in kind’ or the provision of food or the waiving of the banality fee charged by the lord for use of facilities such as a mill, the estover right to gather wood or the pannage right to have pigs eat acorns in the lord’s forest.
All the gebur freemen had an ancient obligation under Anglo-Saxon law to undertake to create, improve or maintain local fortifications, called the burgh-bot. While they were not happy at the work that would be required, they acknowledged Alan’s right as lord to demand it.
Alan also went to visit the miller Acwel to discuss whether he would be able to handle the additional tonnage of grain if Alan’s plans for the three-field system worked as he hoped. The mill was owned by Alan, who took ten percent of the flour milled as the fee for the service provided. This was a traditional landowner’s fee common to both Anglo-Saxons and Normans, which was charged to the villagers- much objected to by the villagers as they could grind their grain by hand, but were traditionally required to use the mill. It was simply yet another form of taxation. The miller received three tenths of the flour from Alan’s share as his income for operation of the mill.
When at the mill Alan noticed a particularly attractive young woman of about sixteen years working at handing the sacks down to the worker below the millstones. She was using a pulley system to pull up the full flour bags and tip them over for a large and heavily-built teenager to move over onto a pile of sacks by the open side-door of the mill, ready to be collected by cart.
The lass gave him a bold look in return to his own scrutiny of her. The grain currently being ground was of course from the previous summer. Alan mentioned that he had some wheat still needing milling and perhaps the young woman, who Acwel mentioned was his daughter Edyth, could resolve delivery arrangements. Acwel gave Alan a calculating look and agreed.
Edyth attended the next morning at the Manor Hall, with ten bags of wheat flour, clean and dressed in her best clothes. Alan chatted with her and found her to be a typical country girl, uneducated, illiterate and with a knowledge only of her local area- but also typically open, honest and sincere. She was not without experience and Alan found her a willing and enthusiastic partner in bed that night. She joined his household in an undefined capacity the next day. Acwel was happy to have his percentage from the mill increased from three to five parts, to allow for the loss of her labour. Edyth was happy to be freed from the need to work ten-hour days, the improved food and accommodation in the Manor Hall and the somewhat qualified respect she was given within the Hall as the lord’s bed mate.
Edyth quickly proved a suitable choice. While her conversation was vapid and concerned local gossip, lacking the intellectual ‘cut and thrust’ that Alan would have preferred, she had a placid temperament and fitted in well with the staff at Thorrington, causing no problems. She was confused, rather than conceited, in her interaction with the staff, not knowing quite what to ask her maid to do as she was used to doing everything herself, both for herself and her family. She made no demands- and obviously as a miller’s daughter would not be offered marriage by Alan. And she was an absolute tigress in bed.
Alan had chosen to make Thorrington his home, hence the directions for building the fortification. Whilst it was the southernmost of his manors and some miles away from the bulk of his estates in the north-east of the Hundred, he had a liking for the pretty village and its people. In return the villagers seemed to have a genuine affection for him, unlike the villagers and servants at Ramsey and Bradfield who could barely conceal their antipathy. Ramsey may have been a more logical choice but Alan wanted to live where he was comfortable. Anyway, the northern villages were only an hour or so away by horse, and Thorrington was closer to the pleasures of the town of Colchester.