“I’m sure that when the banner of St Peter was unfurled on the Norman’s side at Hastings the English rank-and-file wouldn’t have been happy, but neither they nor Harold would have let that stop them, any more than would consideration of what promises may have been made by who in the past. They were fighting for their anointed king and their country against foreign invaders, and Pope Alexander would have been seen as just another foreigner.
“Also remember that when Harold was a ‘guest’ of Duke William he attended at the campaign in Brittany in 1064. Although a lot of that was castle sieges, he saw what heavy cavalry can do in battle and how well William uses that cavalry. At Hastings he had an army composed almost entirely of infantry and knew that if he gave William any room to maneuver his forces that his army would be cut to pieces. He was also getting upset that William and you Normans were burning and ravaging lands that belonged to him personally, but that wasn’t a large factor in his thinking.
“He knew that to beat a force largely composed of heavy cavalry he would either have to take them by surprise or fight on a battlefield that gave his army every advantage. So he took his men quickly and stealthily through the Andreswald, trying to repeat the surprise he achieved at Stamford Bridge. Unfortunately for him William was a better general than Hardrada and had his scouts out, knew Harold was coming and when Harold emerged from the forest the Normans were there.
“As to the battlefield and numbers of men, do you think an extra 10,000 men, mainly untrained, would have made much difference? I’m not surprised that Morcar and Edwin didn’t bring their men south. They didn’t have time to do so and they’d taken huge losses from the Norwegians at Fulford Gate, where they had been beaten like a drum. Even if they hadn’t, being Anglo-Danes they probably wouldn’t have come to the call of the House of Wessex anyway.”
Alan nodded. “You’re right. Another 10,000 men couldn’t have fitted onto the battlefield at Caldbec Hill, but if he had them threatening our flank…”
“How could he have got troops onto the flank in time? You know the lack of roads in the area. Anyway, that may have allowed William the opportunity to defeat the army piecemeal. Remember, Harold didn’t need to win. He just needed to make sure that William didn’t win. It was October. While campaigning in winter is possible, it isn’t easy. The land around Hastings had been stripped bare of food by you Normans. That part of the south would have had lean pickings for provender over the winter and both storms and English longships would have restricted resupply by sea. All Harold had to do was maintain an army in the field and keep the Normans bottled up. And stay alive. Unfortunately for him he didn’t manage to do any of the three requirements.”
Allan nodded his understanding about what he had just been told and then prompted, “And Pope Alexander?”
“As I said, that was an interesting piece of political skullduggery. William sent Bishop Lanfranc to Rome. Have you met Lanfranc? No? A most impressive, learned and intelligent man- and extremely eloquent. He spent some time with the pope and his advisers, firstly going through the usual details of William’s own claim to the throne by way of blood, which we all know existed but wasn’t strong, and the promises made by both King Edward and by Harold including the famous oath-swearing. He derogated Harold’s personality and personal life. All the usual things.
“But what was really important was, and still is, the position of the church here in England. The English church, while it recognises the authority of Rome, does not always follow the direction that Rome wishes. We have bibles and psalters written in the vernacular tongue. Services and prayers are also said in the vernacular and not Latin. We do not follow Rome in all matters of either the liturgy or theology. In the moderately recent past we had the situation of Cnut marrying Aethelred’s widow Emma, who was daughter to Richard Duke of Normandy. This was polygamy by Cnut, who was already married, but an act which the English church consented to- although I understand under the threat of death to the archbishop if he didn’t perform the ceremony. And, of course, we had and still have an archbishop who is excommunicate. All in all that’s not a set of facts that would encourage further tolerance on the part of the pope.
“Rome was more interested in bringing the English church ‘back into the fold’, by force if necessary, than it was with whether the king is English or Norman. Lanfranc played on those concerns wonderfully well. Firm promises of church reform were made and I’m sure will be put in place when King William gets a chance to attend to them. Most particularly, William promised to become the vassal of Rome, at least in respect to England but not his duchy. Of course, William hasn’t gone to Rome to make formal homage for England- and has no intention of doing so. That will be yet another promise regarding the kingship that slowly slips by, but this time by William.
“William’s various claims to the throne, not just by conquest but particularly by papal approval, have apparently been accepted throughout Christendom and have helped to keep Fulk of Anjou from attacking Normandy when William has been busy elsewhere. Apart from the Angevins and dissent in Maine, which William seized by force in ’63, William has been fortunate in the current political situation on the continent. William’s father-in-law is both Count of Flanders and guardian of King Philip of France, although the young king is apparently ‘champing at the bit’ somewhat. The important Norman barons are firmly under control- because William has been so generous in return for their support for the invasion, the fact that most of them are here in England and that William has forged them all into one big family by cross-marriages. There’s the usual situation of the minor barons or fief-holders in Normandy attacking each other when they get bored or feel they’ve been insulted, but the greater lords are keeping a lid on that, more so than is usual.”
“So, all in all everything is bright and sunny!” said Alan with some degree of sarcasm. Both Regenbald and Herfast gave a laugh in reply. “All of Christendom accepts William as king- except the English,” he continued.
Herfast replied, “I was speaking to a monk the other day. He made the comment that ‘the English submitted out of necessity’. Not because they wanted to, but because they saw no other choice. They aren’t happy about the choice that they had to make after Hastings. Some would like to change that choice if they could. That’s not only an English trait- in politics you can’t trust anybody. Anybody who trusts Edwin and Morcar in particular, or any of the Northmen, and Waltheof to a lesser extent, deserves to get the dagger that will be thrust in his back. The Mercians and Northumbrians do not recognise, that they are under the authority of the King of Wessex and never have. Not even when that king was Alfred the Great himself. They threw Tostig out in ’65 after King Edward had appointed him earl and themselves chose and appointed Morcar as earl as his successor. It was a pity for the English that Tostig and Harold fell out, as Tostig was equally as capable as his brother- and, as he showed in his behaviour at Stamford Bridge, more reliable when he had given oath.”
“I don’t agree about that!” objected Alan. “Tostig had Gamal, son of Orm, and Ulf, son of Dolfin, assassinated when they visited him under safe conduct. Hardly in keeping with a man of honour! And capable rulers usually don’t suffer rebellion by people claiming they are being oppressed and misruled!”
Herfast shrugged and changed the topic again. “Leaving that aside, the Grandmesnils are in London at the moment and are putting on a festivity at the Westminster Palace Hall tomorrow night. Adelize has particularly asked me to make sure you and Anne attend as she enjoyed Anne’s poetry evening so much.”
Alan nodded his acquiescence, although he would rather go rolling naked in a field of stinging nettles than attend a social soiree.
That evening when back at the house at Holebourn, Gareth sat opposite Alan and Anne, toying with a cup of wine. “So, I located the individuals and questioned them all most closely. It was a simple robbery with no political involvement. Given how closely they were questioned, I’m quite sure of that. The bodies will be found in a vaca
nt allotment in Friday Street tomorrow and the word will be passed around that any further problems involving you or your servants will meet a similar vigorous response. The salutary lesson should be worth a dozen guards.” Alan and Anne both expressed their thanks and Gareth departed after declining to partake of the evening meal, wanting to be back at his haunts in the City before the Newgate closed at dusk.
The Church of St Edmund the King and Martyr Without Newgate was, despite its very long name, a modest wooden church of Saxon construction and was Anne’s chosen church for attending services when they were London. Apart from the abbey and the cathedral, London had a number of large churches, many of which were built of stone, as well as a myriad of small churches dedicated to virtually every saint in Christendom scattered every few hundred paces throughout the city, with most of the citizens of the city preferring to pray in small congregations with their neighbours. St. Edmunds was such a small church, situated just outside the city walls at Newgate and was barely 200 paces from the town-house at Holebourn.
The priest was a fat and usually jolly man of middling years called Edward, who took his pastoral duties to his small congregation seriously. The building was of post construction, with a nave about thirty paces long by ten wide made of massive oak posts and beams running down each wall and down the central aisle, with strong trusses supporting the gabled roof of timber slats and the walls clad with timber. It had no bell-tower, with its bell being supported by a small external wooden frame outside the main door. The altar was simple and restrained, with a beautifully embroidered altar cloth and brass candlesticks. The golden chalice, pyx and other sacred items were removed by Father Edward to the rectory after each service, as the church was left unlocked.
Anne had in the past stated that the reason for her preference for the church, apart from its convenience, was that she liked both the priest and the members of the congregation, that it remained reasonably warm in winter and most particularly because it was equipped with rows of benches on which the congregation could sit. Both she and Alan found attending services in the church considerably more restful than those at Thorrington or Wivenhoe as they usually could simply be members of the congregation instead of having to play the part of ‘the lord and lady of the manor’.
However, it was no usual occasion when the following morning the whole household attended at the church, along with much of the remainder of the congregation summoned by the slow tolling of the bell. Aitkin, who had been lying wrapped in his shroud near the altar his death, had been placed in a fine wooden coffin, with candles burning at both foot and head. Alan and Anne were sparing little expense to give an appropriate send-off for a valued servant. After a simple but moving service conducted in English by a subdued Father Edward the cortege moved out to the graveyard, where in the autumn sunlight Aitkin was laid to rest. Aidith and Tiw stood with their arms about each others shoulders and sobbed in anguish.
That evening Alan and Anne dressed carefully for the reception at Westminster and rather than walk the short distance in their finery they had arranged to hire a fine carriage for the night. They and two men-at-arms, the latter in their best clothes and each carrying a sword and seax, stepped down from the carriage outside the entrance to the Great Hall. Oil-soaked rush torches lit the entrance, and inside were more torches and many candles attached to sconces. The guards were shown to a separate Hall for servants, while Alan and Anne entered the Grand Hall.
Festivities had already commenced and a stately processional dance was taking place, involving about thirty couples and with a similar number looking on. A band of a dozen musicians was placed along one wall in the middle of the Hall and they were playing with skill and verve. Many of the dancers were less skilled, courtly dances not being high on the list of things usually studied by noble-born Norman warriors. However, clearly some had received some education in that skill, perhaps recently at the insistence of their wives. A number of foppish courtiers showed elegant moves on the dance-floor.
Alan and Anne were conducted to Hugh and Adelize de Grandmesnil. Ladies’ hands were kissed and men’s forearms grasped. Anne wandered off with Beatrice de Builly, the wife of Robert Count of Eu.
Alan, dressed in his usual garb of black linen and silk embroidered with silver, watched his wife, who was dressed in a low-cut dress of russet taffeta, circulate amongst her friends. “A fine turn-out,” he commented to his host Hugh de Grandmesnil.
Hugh snorted and gave a scowl, watching a dance where the men hopped and leaped like hares. “The Hall is full of homosexual pricks, pederasts and sycophants. They can dance and provide attention to the ladies, but are useless ornaments. It’s events like this that make me appreciate the benefits of my otherwise dullard retainers! Let’s go get a cup of wine and drown our sorrows!”
In the intensely political atmosphere of the court favourites there was no such thing as a simple social occasion, and Alan found himself repeatedly included in discussions. One of the main topics of conversation was the political situation in the duchy of Maine, taken by William by force of arms several years before and now with his young son Robert installed as duke. The Manceaux were making their disaffection clear and revolt was expected. What surprised the barons was that William was apparently content to allow matters in Maine to take their course while he was bringing the English to heel.
Unusually for a meal involving the Norman nobility, this was not a sit-down affair involving large amounts of roast meat. Instead side-tables had been placed with a variety of finger-foods. Lorenze pies; sausages baked in bread rolls; small meat pies; spinach tarts; pork doucetty; veal crustade; pork flampoyntes; stuffed mushroom pastries; more meat pastries and cold roasted marinated chicken wings and drumsticks, all with a variety of dipping sauces and chutneys. There were excellent wines from Burgundy and the Loire.
Anne several times prevailed on Alan to take to the floor for several sets of the more restrained dances, principally line and circle dances. They stepped together as the dance and music dictated, now holding hands high and now arming, bowing and circling before sliding, progressing and stepping. After a set of bransels Alan begged off from dancing a set with more complicated steps, standing with several of the younger nobles, including William of Eu, King William’s nephew, and Ivo Taillebois, near the drinks table for some much-needed fortification.
CHAPTER TEN
Thorrington and York February 1069
Alan sat at a table on the slightly raised dais at the head of the Old Hall at Thorrington, the residence of the former thegn now used as a meeting-place since Alan had built his new residence nearby. With him sat Algar of Alresford and Leofstan of Great Holland, both wealthy and respected local thegns. At tables placed close by sat most of the local thegns, village headmen and the influential cheorls, numbering in all close on fifty men. Noticeable by their absence were the Normans appointed as lords of some of the local villages. They had not been invited, although a few of their cheorls had been.
It was Wednesday February 11th 1069, nine days after Candalmas had been celebrated. The weather outside was chilly and overcast with a steady drizzle. Despite the roaring fire in the Hall the men were cold and wore their cloaks wrapped tightly about them. Quart mugs of mulled ale had been handed out as the guests had arrived and two serving-wenches were circulating, holding two mugs in each hand and offering replacements to those whose mugs had been emptied.
“Hlaford!” said Alan in Anglo-Saxon English in a clear and carrying voice, cutting through the low buzz of conversation and calling the meeting to order. “Gentlemen! Welcome and thank you for attending today. Now that the Festive Season is out of the way, hopefully we’ll all have more time for our duties!” Alan was using his ‘public speaking’ voice- well projected, without shouting, slow and clear with brief pauses every dozen words or so to allow the listeners’ ears and brains to catch up with his words. “I’m sure that we all know what happened some two weeks ago at Durham. King William, before he left to Winter in Normandy, appoi
nted Robert de Commines to the earldom of Bamburgh, which was abandoned by Cospatric when he fled after the revolt at Exeter.
“De Commines arrived north of the Tyne last month with a substantial force of men, some 600 strong. Two weeks ago the Northumbrians broke into the city of Durham, killed all the Normans they could find, laid siege to the bishop’s house where de Commines was lodging. Unable to take it by storm they set it on fire. De Commines fled to the church and, like Copsi before him, was killed as he tried to escape the fire when the rebels burnt down the church. The Northumbrians seem to have this penchant for burning down houses and killing earls, but burning churches where men have sought sanctuary is something every Christian would deplore!” Alan paused and took a sip of ale. “While that is politically important enough, of greater importance is that the Northumbrians have not attempted to negotiate their concerns with King William, as others have in the last year or so- without much success I may say. They have elected Edgar the Aetheling as king. I hear that they are marching south to York.”
All present had heard the news, which had arrived and struck like a thunderbolt several days before. Silence continued during a further pause by Alan. “Although I’m a Norman, I’m a man of this Hundred and I believe I understand the wishes of the English geburs, and particularly the thegns and cheorls. The Aetheling is the last of the line of Alfred the Great. The English wish to have an English king. They wish the influence of foreigners to cease and for the foreigners to leave.” Alan paused again and looked closely at the faces before him. “I can understand that, although obviously most would say that I’m biased and have my own interests to protect, being one of those foreigners. I hope that my actions over the two years that I’ve been amongst you show that I have genuine concern for the people in this Hundred, and indeed all the English. I’ve done what I can to assist those affected by the excesses of those recently empowered, and protected the people of this Hundred from invasion.
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