Winter of Discontent nc-2

by Iain Campbell

  Cases were not brought lightly. A person making accusation found to be false was heavily fined if the court found that the actions had been brought with malice; those convicted of perjury faced eternal damnation by being forbidden to be shriven or buried in consecrated ground. These were simple country people who believed in the truth and for whom the penalty for perjury was treated with the utmost seriousness and fear. Cases of mis-identification were rare as they lived in small tight-knit communities where all knew each other well, and those from neighboring villages at least by sight. Few of the cases were disputed.

  The minor cases usually took little time as the defendants mostly pleaded guilty and paid the small fines of a few shillings for injury to their victims. Injuries such as bruising, loss of teeth, broken bones etc each had a set compensation bot specified in the Dooms which formed the English written law.

  They then moved on to the more serious cases. As usual in rape cases they turned on the question of consent. One man was acquitted through lack of certainty on the part of the judges regarding his understanding as to whether the wench was consenting or merely submitting. He was, nevertheless, ordered to pay bot to the girl of twelve shillings. The other man was convicted. Neither he nor his frithbogh could pay his wer, and so he was hung from the gallows-tree to the delight and entertainment of the villagers. One of the unlawful killing cases was found to be justified by self-defence. In the other the case man was convicted and sent to be held at the gaol in Colchester until the wer of 200 shillings was paid, the frithbogh saying it would take time to sell cattle and swine to enable payment.

  One man, a Norman of low class from the village of Elmstead and in the employ of Gerard de Cholet, was convicted of theft. Without the option of payment of wer, as Norman law applied to him, his right hand was struck off and he was forced to abjure the Hundred. As there was a blizzard blowing at the time, and weakened by blood loss, it was unlikely that he would have made it as far as Colchester. Most probably a hungry wolf in the forest near Alresford ate well that day.

  The cases were now heard in the Old Hall at Thorrington village, instead of the previous use of the tithe-barn. Given the warmth inside and the appalling weather outside, the Hall was packed with people with nothing better to do. Godwin and Leofwine were in no hurry to finish, both being provided with snug quarters at the fortified New Hall, and they decided to deal fully with all pending matters, spending five days to achieve this. They were assisted on several days by thegns Edwald of Alresford, Bondi of Ardleigh, and by special invitation for the first time the Englishman named Leax, formerly of Hertfordshire. He was Engelric’s newly-appointed steward to the lands he held of St Paul’s of London at Birch Hall. With the additional judges two courts were able to be held, one at each end of the Hall, with the second using the services of Brother Wacian as scribe.

  Lent had begun exceptionally early, Ash Wednesday being on the 6th February. As usual, Alan and Anne attended Mass on such a festival, together with nearly everybody in the village. As they walked across the small wooden bridge over the Alresford Creek Alan noted that the water of the stream was frozen solid.

  Despite the packed humanity it was bitterly cold in the small wooden church. The palm crosses from the previous Palm Sunday were burnt and the ashes mixed with Catechumens oil. Each person present had a cross traced on their forehead, Brother Wacian saying to each. “Remember, O man, that ye are dust, and to dust ye shall return.” The beautiful penitential Psalm 51 was read by the priest, not because he could not remember the words but so that he had the pleasure of handling the beautifully copied and leather-bound English-language bible that Alan had, as an act of contrition for his previous sins, presented the church the previous year. As with all services in the country that were held outside cathedrals or abbeys, the service was conducted in the Anglo-Saxon language and the simple village folk recited from memory the familiar required responses.

  Accepted practice for Lent in this part of England was that two smaller than normal meals were permitted each day, but that red meat, fowl, eggs and dairy produce were not permitted except on Sundays- each Sunday being deemed a ‘mini-Easter’ Feast Day. Usually this would not have caused a problem, but Alan was concerned about the severity of the winter. He held Anne back after the service ended and asked Brother Wacian if they could talk. Brother Wacian led them into the rectory, where a warm fire was burning, and invited them to sit.

  “Brother, I have concerns about the Lenten requirements this year. Lent is a time of prayer, penitence and self-denial, preparing us for Holy Week and Easter. This year, as Easter Day is very early, so is the commencement of Lent. In fact we celebrated Candlemas only three days ago! One day we are celebrating Christ’s presentation in the temple and nearly the next we are preparing for his death!

  “This year is a very severe and hard winter. Our people are well-fed and usually well-provisioned. My concern this year is that when we are not having blizzards we are having strong winds. These are communities that rely on fresh fish, which are always abundant in the sea nearby, and we have little store of dried or salted fish. Our fishermen have hardly been able to get their boats in the water for two weeks. If this continues until Easter, our people are likely to be so weakened that they may have difficulty in performing the ploughing and manure-spreading the following month. Those who are pregnant such as Anne, or who are ill, would also weaken. May I ask that you grant a dispensation on each Sunday for the following week on those occasions the weather has prevented fishing for the preceding three days, permitting fowl to be eaten that week, in moderation and perhaps only once in the day?”

  Brother Wacian frowned. He was quite strict in his religious observations and his requirements of others to do the same. This idea was distasteful and offensive to him, but he did recognise that his congregation had both spiritual and physical needs. He also recognised that the person making the request had the ability to dismiss him at any time, although he allowed that to have little bearing on his decision, and also that Alan himself had obligations to his people. After a few moments reflection he replied, “Let us see how things progress over the next week or so. A week without meat will not hurt anybody- they can fill their bellies on vegetable pottage and bread, and those who planned in advance also with dried or pickled fruit or vegetables. If the weather stays inclement, I may agree to your request and grant a partial dispensation on a week-to-week basis, for the good welfare of the people. Obviously I would not myself so partake.”

  “Thank you, Brother Wacian. Hopefully, it will not be necessary and the Good Lord will grant us fair weather- but if he does not it behooves us to care for our people as best we can.

  “Also, as you know, Anne attends the three Masses said here at Thorrington each week. She would like, when possible, for you to provide her with the Eucharist each day. Again, given the weather and her condition, may I request that you do this and perform a shortened service at the New Hall?” Brother Wacian agreed easily enough, after all it was only a few minutes walk and would take little of his time. He could perform the service in the late evening and no doubt would often then be invited to stay for the evening meal, which was no small consideration for a man who was single and did his own cooking most of the time. The women of the parish did provide him with the occasional crockpot of cooked stew or baked pies- outside the Lenten period. Brother Wacian wasn’t a good cook and that was one of the things that he missed after leaving the abbey, not that the food provided in the abbey refectory was anywhere near the quality of the provender on offer at Alan’s high-table. He also missed lively intellectual conversation, which wasn’t something that could be offered by the villagers but which certainly occurred at the table of the highly-educated lord and his lady.

  On the way back to the New Hall, Alan and Anne passed arm-in-arm over the wooden draw-bridge crossing the defensive trench and through the gate in the wooden palisade between the towers that contained the ballistae which Alan had built partly from plans dating back to Roman
times and partly from his own tinkering. Anne commented, “Of course, the fact that you hate fish didn’t have anything to do with that request, did it?” asked Anne. Alan laughed and patted her bottom without replying.

  The next day dawned cold but windless. Alan took horse with his steward Faran and two men to ride the thirteen miles to his manor at Ramsey in the north of the Hundred. Ramsey was a neat village located about a mile inland with some 55 cottages, a mill and a salt-house, being administered for Alan by the steward Durand. The steward was under close supervision as he was a hang-over from the previous tenants Aelfhare and Bertholf Kemp, who had attacked Alan after he had taken possession, with Alan’s archers killing them in his protection. Ramsey also had Alan’s horse breeding stable, run by studmaster Roweson, an elderly thickset white-haired cheorl who had been in charge for twelve years under both Alan and before him the Kemps.

  The journey to Ramsey was difficult with the horses walking through thick snow and Alan and his men were more than happy to receive a hot bowl of vegetable pottage from Arlene, Durand’s wife and housekeeper. The stew had a surprisingly strong flavour of bacon, on which Alan didn’t comment. After all Ash Wednesday had been only the day before and presumably the pottage had been on the make for several days. The meal was accompanied by ale and fresh bread, although made of rye and without butter due to the Lenten restrictions..

  The stud was a short distance from the village and Alan rode out in the early afternoon. Roweson greeted them as the knight and his men dismounted. The yard was surrounded on two sides by horse stalls and on the third by several cottages used by the staff, and a large barn where hay, oats and carrots were stored.

  “God Hael, Ealdor!” Roweson called as he limped forward, seemingly to have significantly aged in the months since Alan had seen him last. Presumably the cold was making his joints stiff.

  “God Hael, Horsbealdor!” replied Alan warmly, clapping the old man on the shoulder. “How progress things?”

  “Well enough, Ealdor! Well enough! We now have 76 breeding mares. The 34 from last year plus 16 of the fillies who were yearlings last year- we lost one in the summer to snake bite; we also have the 6 you bought at Ipswich and those others bought at London and Colchester. We still have the 3 stallions, and your stallion Odin in season. The 14 geldings are now about 18 months old and ready to start training, but of course not ready for heavy use. Of the 76 mares, 68 are in foal- some arrived too late to be bred for the season. Two ‘slipped’.

  “Our problem is going to come in spring. All the horses are in stalls to protect them from the weather. They’re crammed in two or three per stall, except the stallions of course. We have 25 stalls. When the mares foal we won’t have stalls for them all. We also won’t have enough meadow or fenced fields- we’ll be up to our eyes in horses! I suggest you use some of your land at Great Bentley, which has good meadow and pasture land. Build stalls, say another 25 or 30 there and 10 more here. If you build a stud at Great Bentley it will also need cottages and a barn. That’ll take care of this year. My assistant Brunloc can run Great Bentley under my instruction. When is this master horse-trainer you promised going to arrive? We can train the horses to be ridden as usual, but you want them to be trained for war, which is a different thing altogether.”

  “Sorry, I’d forgotten about that,” admitted Alan. “I’ve had too much to think about. We need him here… when?”

  “As soon as you want the horses to be trained to fight! That beast Odin is like nothing I’ve ever seen! A vicious beast, but intelligent and tractable- when he wants to be. If you have 50 men on horses like him, you’d be damn hard to beat,” replied Roweson. “I used to think that what you were saying was crap, but I’ve seen him out on the training-field and any competent man-at-arms on a horse like that… I’m not surprised you Normans beat Harold.”

  “I’ll attend to it and send a letter to my father and ask him to get the best man available.” Alan paused and then asked, “So what do you expect from the breeding program?”

  “That depends,” said Roweson with a shrug. “I think you chose good animals last year. We should get a good batch of foals from the mares we bred to the big stallions. If we keep doing that for a few years the resulting horses will be nearly as large as your destrier Odin. Big, strong, plenty of endurance, reasonably fast- although not very quick to change direction. The main problem will be temperament, which is why I want this person you have promised to work magic with them. The best horse in the world is useless if you can’t get it to do what you want. One thing’s for sure, in four or five years we’ll have bred all the warhorses you could reasonably want. You’ll probably need four or five stallions at stud by then.”

  Alan inspected the horses and stables. Each horse had a blanket buckled on to keep them warm. The stalls were clean, obviously mucked out daily, and with fresh straw. Chaff and oats were available for the horses to eat. The horses looked rough in their winter coats but were clearly well fed and comfortable. The mares looked at him placidly and accepted the carrots he offered. As Roweson had said, the only real problem was overcrowding with two or three mares, nearly all in foal, in most stalls.

  After taking his leave Alan and his men returned to Ramsey for the night. They wouldn’t have been able to return to Thorrington before nightfall, and trying to travel through the deep snow in the darkness was not a viable option. Durand and Arlene vacated the master’s bedroom to sleep by the fire in the Hall. Alan spent an uncomfortable night in a bed that smelled strongly of its former occupants, scratching at the bites of the fleas that swarmed off the skins that formed part of the bedding.

  They departed next morning after a breakfast of porridge sweetened with honey. Ramsey had eight taxed beehives and at least two dozen that didn’t ‘appear on the books’ and which disappeared each time the tax collectors were in the area. It was hard to hide a forest, a salt-house or a mill, but beehives were supposed to be moveable-and were valuable. Alan had a reasonable suspicion that there were more hives than even he knew about, but as long as Durand kept his cheating within reasonable limits he wasn’t too concerned. Osmund had ‘passed’ the accounts for the mill and salt-house when he’d inspected them in the autumn, so Durand wasn’t being as blatant in his larceny as Kendrick, the previous steward of Thorrington.

  The party, now including the head-groom Brunloc, paused at Great Bentley for several hours while Alan and Brunloc discussed the requirements for the new horse-stud with the young steward Tamar and the head-cheorl Alstan. Horse paddocks and sites for buildings were marked out and orders given to commence construction as soon as possible, weather permitting.

  Back at Thorrington Alan reported to Anne the outcome of his journey. Brother Wacian arrived just before darkness fell, at about four in the afternoon. He conducted a simple and abbreviated service for Anne. Alan and most of the household, including the soldiers from the barracks, also attended, kneeling on the fresh rushes spread on the floor of the main Hall. Cutting the service to the ‘bare bones’ with no gospel readings, no homily, only one Psalm was read (actually recited from memory, like the rest of the service, as the priest hadn’t brought the Bible or Missal) and two hymns which were sung mainly because the congregation expected it, the service including the presentation of the Eucharist took a little over twenty minutes. Bother Wacian was hungry and the smells emanating from the kitchen did not encourage him to delay.

  Like most lords of the manor, Alan and Anne usually ate with most of the household, although the common soldiers usually ate in the barracks. The high-table was placed close to the fire, with Brother Wacian again marveling at the construction of the metal hood and metal chimney which drew the smoke out of the Hall while admitting neither wind nor rain. Alan’s design problems had been overcome with the suggestions and assistance of a London metal-smith several months previously. At the same time the windows had been sealed against draughts by the installation of broad-sheet blown glass of a slightly greenish tinge- the colour due to the soda content w
hich allowed lower working temperatures and longer working periods, which made it much cheaper than clear glass- although still ruinously expensive.

  Because the weather had been reasonably clear that day Anne had arranged for several fishermen to be on special missions. Alan hated fish and Anne was not fond of it day after day. For the previous few days she had arranged for shrimp to be caught in baited traps in the freshwaters or tidal waters of Alresford Creek and Barfleet Creek near Thorrington and the Colne River.

  The previous night the boat fisherman had been able to go out and lay baited traps offshore for lobster, which had been retrieved and the lobsters were sitting in holding tanks of seawater and being purged of their waste, which took several days. Scallops and mussels had been gathered, again mainly sitting in the salt-water holding tanks awaiting future use. Today flounder and other flatfish had been caught in the shallows. She had plaiced orders (*pun intended) for flatfish, catfish, cod and haddock, but not the oily herring. Live fish were preferred, and dolphin if caught. Small holding-pens for live fish had been established on the tidal section of Alresford Creek.