The response was a cheer and a number of ribald comments, although not as many as usual, given that all present knew that Alan and Anne had already been living together for some weeks. Alan and Anne proceeded to the bedchamber where they changed into riding clothes. Accompanied by ten sober Wolves in full armour, a slightly tipsy Osmund, Leof and two giggling maids they rode off with the lowering sun at their backs.
They arrived at Thorrington a little before dark and visited the festivities still continuing at the village green, greeting each person by name, before they proceeded to the Hall. After greeting all in the Hall they proceeded to the bedchamber and their first privacy of the day.
Next morning they luxuriated by lying abed and basking in the afterglow of several mutually satisfactory couplings. Eventually, driven by a full bladder, Alan suggested that they rise and he would present the Morning Gifts before Anne’s family arrived from Wivenhoe. After they dressed, in much more mundane clothes than they had worn the previous day, Alan led to the way across the Hall grounds to the armoury. Once inside the large building, and her eyes had accustomed themselves to the gloom, Anne saw fifty sets each of a chain-mail byrnie, helmet, sword and spear lying on a shield. “Not perhaps the most romantic of gifts, but practical,” said Alan.
“I’ll put them to good use at Wivenhoe. The fyrdmen will be properly equipped for the first time and I know it’s your intention to teach them how to use them,” said Anne solemnly, remembering the time barely six weeks ago when the men of her village were fighting for their very lives and those of their kin. This gift may not be romantic, but was both practical and necessary.
“I’d suggest that we also build a bailey next to the Wivenhoe village as a place of refuge in case next time we are not lucky enough to get adequate warning. I don’t think it needs a motte as raiders aren’t going to sit down for days for an extended siege. Something akin to a small burgh, which is more of less what I’ve built here. Colchester is always going to draw Dane and Norwegians like bees to a honey-pot on a regular basis, and the village is on their route both to and from the city. The village also needs a small garrison and a suitable commander,” commented Alan as they walked back to the Hall.
“It is now yours to do as you will, my lord,” said Anne with a slight note of both irony and regret in her voice.
“I don’t think so,” replied Alan brightly. “I’ve plenty of other manors to take my time and attention and Wivenhoe will always be yours. You just have to pay the Heriot out of your own share of money!” the last with a big smile to show that the comment was meant in jest.
Inside the Hall he led the way to his office. Once there he pulled out several packages sewn into covers of hessian and covered with oiled linen. He first placed two large packages of similar dimensions on his desk, each about eighteen inches wide by two feet high and five inches thick. He handed Anne a small sharp knife which she used to cut away the covering of the first package, revealing a large book bound in a simple red leather cover, with a plain gold cross and the Roman number “II” on the cover. Alan gave a snort of amusement and commented, “A choice of two and I had to give you the wrong one first!”
Anne stroked the leather cover gently and then carefully opened the book. It was the New Testament part of the Bible that Alan had bought at Ipswich, written in English. She carefully turned the pages, examining the beautiful illumination work. “It’s beautiful! I suppose the other is the Old Testament?”
Alan nodded and said, “I thought that the church at Thorrington needs a Bible and that you could endow it either with this one, or my own plain copy, depending on which you wish to keep.”
Anne signed and replied, “That will be a hard decision to make. This is so beautiful, but your Bible was created with your own hands. That’s something about which I’ll need to think. Now that you have raised the topic, I probably should provide Father Ator and the Wivenhoe church with a Bible as well, but nothing as magnificent as this.”
Anne cut open the second package and sighed again with appreciation of the quality of the work and materials. Alan placed another smaller parcel on the table, which again Anne cut open with careful eagerness. This time the book had a green leather cover and was much smaller. Its name was written in gold lettering on the front cover and spine. “The Dream of the Rood,” said Anne. “By Cynewulf- one of the earliest English religious poems. A brand-new copy!” Alan put the next parcel on the table, a very large one. “Andreas, the story of Saint Andrew and his journey to rescue St. Matthew. Also new,” she breathed after she had cut it open.
Alan placed another two parcels on the table. “Used copies from the library of Ely Abbey. I was able to arrange an exchange of copies of two volumes of Hippocrates’ Corpus between them and Colchester- On Unfruitful Women and On the Sight, and these were my payment- as well as Brother Leanian providing me with copies of the Corpus when they are copied. These are the two volumes of Ovid’s Ars Amatoria that you don’t have, so that gives you the full set.”
“We’ll soon have a library to rival that of Colchester Priory!” said Anne as she reached up to give Alan a long lingering kiss. There was the sound of horses arriving outside, shouting and a general commotion. “It sounds like my family is arriving. Come quickly upstairs into the Solar, where I have my presents hidden.” A quick dash up the stairs to avoid the guests, and Anne was presenting presents to Alan, which was not part of the usual ‘Morning Gift’ ritual.
“These are rather more prosaic than your gifts,” said Anne as she handed over six large parcels. Five contained elegant tunics and hose, three in black with silver or gold embroidery. One was in silk and two in fine linen, one in burgundy-coloured silk (which Alan noticed was the same material used in the bride’s wedding dresses) and one in hunter-green velvet. The other parcel contained three pairs of boots, in black, red and green leather.
“I wondered where my boots went that day in Ipswich” said Alan with a smile. “How did you get the tunics and hose the correct size without me having a fitting? That gold tunic fitted perfectly.”
“I stole one of your old tunics that fitted well and gave it to the tailor. Just like the boots to the cobbler, although since you only had one pair I couldn’t let him pull the boots apart to get a proper design. I know you like to dress inconspicuously in black, but you’re an important man, a member of the Curia Regis and the King’s Inner Council and will need to dress accordingly.” Anne put her hand into a pocket and said “And I also have this.” When Alan opened the small box he found a signet ring, gold with red jasper carved with a design of a crossed sword and arrow with fire in the background. “Beautiful, and an appropriate design,” he commented as he slipped the ring onto his finger. Anne checked the size, which fortunately fitted well. They hugged and kissed quickly before proceeding downstairs to meet their guests.
The bawdy banter was somewhat less than usual as both the guests and members of the household were aware that Alan and Anne had been sleeping together for some weeks, but most of the age-old jokes were made over the mid-day meal. Alan and Anne asked Orvin how the festive dinner had progressed after they had left the previous evening. Alan had a quiet word with Osmund about the feelings of the villagers. The response was that the residents of both Thorrington and Wivenhoe seemed to bear genuine goodwill to Anne as their lady and to Alan as their lord, and also in Wivenhoe’s case as its saviour. Alan might well be a foreigner but was well accepted and loved.
Next day Alan took Anne’s family, women included, hunting along the coastline, the women riding side-saddle and Anne wearing conventional clothing. On emerging from the Hall Alan presented Anne with another Morning Gift- a female merlin, a medium-sized falcon. “Her name is Cyrtenes, or ‘Beauty’. Benoic’s been training her for several months since she was taken from the nest.” He first handed his wife with a gauntlet of thick leather, and then placed the merlin on her wrist. She was a beautiful creature about a foot long, with pale off-white feathers highlighted by darker brown markings, dark
grey wings and a barred tail. “The merlin is a falcon, not a hawk- a long-wing, so we can’t use her much in the woods. She needs open space to work. She’s a pigeon-hawk. My peregrine falcon, Caf, is also a female, and will take duck and grouse. She’s much larger and heavier to carry. Caf has been trained by Benoic to also take hares, which they don’t usually do. It’s interesting that with birds of prey the females are larger and more aggressive than the males! Don’t expect her to show any affection to you. Hawks and falcons don’t- they just tolerate us because they’ve been trained that we’re a source of food and shelter. You never know when you cast them off if they’re going to return, and often we have to use a lure to bring them back, relying on their greed. One day that probably won’t be enough and she’ll likely fly away.
It was a warm and pleasant day and Alan enjoyed being outdoors and the exercise. Alan taught Anne the basics of how to use a falcon- how to untie the hood, with one hand, when to release her and how to call her back. To allow Anne to use her new gift more fully they were hunting the coastline along the mudflats and swamps of the estuary, rather than woodland, as both birds were long-wings and would struggle to take prey in a forest and would be more likely to suffer injury. Cyrtenes had taken two pigeons and Caf had taken a duck and a hare by the time they paused for a picnic lunch near Brightlingsea. Raedwald and Garrett had been provided with hunting bows, but they hadn’t shown any skill on the few times that the party had got close enough to loose a few arrows at their intended prey of ducks.
Clearly the guests, especially the women, were not entertained by the day’s activities and Orvin asked, “You do this often? We don’t seem to be catching enough food to provide dinner.”
“Hawking isn’t really about catching dinner, it’s more an excuse to get out and have some exercise in the open. Most hawks are too small to catch anything worthwhile. When we go hunting in the forest for deer and boar we usually get at least enough to feed the high table for a few days, but I didn’t think slinking quietly through the forest was something Lora, Mae and Ellette would enjoy. It’s also more dangerous, with boar, bear and wolves- and also the risk of being hit by somebody else’s’ arrow! I can arrange to take the men out in the forest the day after tomorrow, if you like. Most of the nobility, Norman and English, hunt regularly.
“Personally, I enjoy a day out in the sun and a little exercise but don’t really enjoy ‘the thrill of the hunt’. I’m concentrating too much on not putting an arrow into one of my hunting party! Boar hunting is… exciting, if that’s the correct word. It’s enough to make you crap in your pants. The boar suddenly appears about ten paces away, charges straight at you intending to kill you with its tusks and you have to stick a spear straight in its chest and kill it quickly, before it kills you.” Orvin, Garrett and Raedwald looked unimpressed at the idea of boar hunting, clearly preferring not to have to fight with their food. Young Betlic was one of the few guests who looked like he was enjoying the outing.
“What else do you do out here?” asked Raedwald.
Alan laughed. “It’s not like we’re in a city like Ipswich were they have dancing bears, dog-fights and cock-fights,” he said. “We are poor rustic people. Watching a horse cover a mare is enough entertainment for most villagers for a week. Anne and myself are kept busy with the duties our position brings. Efficiently running six manors, each of which is like a small business. Listening to complaints brought by over 1,000 people, attending the Hundred court. In my case training the fyrdmen and my own troopers each morning.”
“I’ve heard that you are one on the best swordsmen in Europe,” interjected Betlic.
Alan smiled. “I can handle a blade well and that’s what I try to teach my men,” he replied modestly.
Bored by the lack of any but rustic pursuits Anne’s family departed to return home early on the morning of Tuesday 3rd July. Although Alan liked them well-enough, he felt a sense of relief when they left, almost a feeling that now nobody was looking over his shoulder and he could scratch an itch without wondering if anybody would be offended. Lora in particular showed all the signs of being a typical mother-in-law, with few words of praise and many of complaint.
Alan chose the following day to ‘beard the lion in his den’ and rode out in the early morning to see Robert fitzWymarc at Colchester Castle, taking Osmund, Leof and half a dozen Wolves in full armour. Calling in at ‘the Three Hounds’ for some sustenance after the ride, Alan was surprised to hear from the taverner that a youth had left a message with him, which was to meet with ‘Brun the one-eyed’ at the ‘Hog’s Head Tavern’, a rough inn down near the docks. Alan made a mental note to attend to that in the afternoon.
It was a short walk up the hill to the castle, where Alan’s guards were left at the guard-house by the gate. After a short wait the three were shown into the cluttered small room that was, for want of a better description, fitzWymarc’s office.
FitzWymarc sat with his boots up on the table, wearing a stained and threadbare tunic and hose and eating an apple with his mouth open. Alan could see one of the boots needed repair. Sitting on a bench behind fitzWymarc were his deputy Roger and a fat priest who appeared to act as fitzWymarc’s scribe, but who was not introduced. Alan had taken particular trouble with the appearance of his party and both Osmund and Leof wore new clothes of dark green, while Alan wore one of the more simple black embroidered tunics that Anne had given him, in linen and not silk so as not to appear overly ostentatious, and his new signet ring. FitzWymarc waved them to sit at a bench opposite him at the table.
“Good morning, Sir Robert! I trust that we find you well,” said Alan by way of conversation as it appeared fitzWymarc wasn’t going to say anything. “This is my clerk Osmund and we have matters of importance that we wish to discuss with you as sheriff.”
FitzWymarc grunted, threw the chewed apple-core into the corner of the room and abruptly said, “I hear that congratulations are in order, to you and Lady Anne. What Earl Ralph will have to say about your breach of the ban on marrying landed widows I can only imagine!”
Alan was guarding his temper well. A man of even disposition and rarely given to bad humour, he was well aware that on those few occasions when he lost his temper the results tended to be spectacular. To abuse fitzWymarc, the sheriff and the most powerful man in the shire, would achieve nothing. Clearly from fitzWymarc’s attitude the meeting was not to be friendly and relations were not on a good footing.
“What is the attitude of the earl of East Anglia to my marriage is a matter of total unconcern to me. I hold no land from him nor any of his minions, including yourself, nor does Lady Anne. We needed no man’s permission to marry, and as such we sought none. I’m sure that Earl Ralph has more important matters on his mind than my marital status- although I’m sure that if it is of importance to him, he’ll raise the topic when we next sit together on the Kings Council.” The last being a polite dig at the sheriff to remind him of the status of the man with whom he was talking.
“Talking of Lady Anne, she’s not yet paid her Relief,” said fitzWymarc abruptly. Alan noted that no claim of forfeiture was being made.
“She’s not yet been notified of her assessment, so of course she can’t have paid. I would also say that she was most offended at the message and offer that your clerk, the scrawny one with the bad teeth, brought several months ago. As her husband I also of course take offence at that message. What is the assessment for Wivenhoe?”
FitzWymarc looked Alan straight in the eyes and lied to him that the message as understood by Lady Anne was not as he had meant and that no threat or coercion had been intended. Alan raised an eyebrow at Osmund and commented in a loud aside intended to be overheard, “Strange that I didn’t mention the contents of the message or offer, but Sir Robert seems to be intimately familiar with them.”
FitzWymarc turned beet red at the plain but unspoken message that he was lying. “The Relief figure is?8, set by Bishop William,” he snapped.
“For a property with a rated va
lue of 40 shillings? Five Hides of land and five ploughs, that’s a nice even quadrupling of the value. May I ask what value was put on your nearby holding of Elmstead, where you have eight Hides of land, 22 ploughs, a mill, a salt-house and beehives?” asked Alan frostily.
“No you may not! That’s between the landholder and the official handling the transaction,” replied fitzWymarc abruptly.
“Still I’m sure that is something the king will look at when he returns, along with the Relief values of the other properties you hold in Lexden Hundred and around the shire- you being defined as an Englishman for the purpose of the Relief, holding those lands before William was crowned king and having to pay the impost. I recall you coming to Hastings and warning William not to fight as Harold’s army was so large- and then you seemed to disappear again, not being seen on either side during the battle,” said Alan in an even tone of voice. He borrowed the quill and ink on the table to fill in gaps in a message on a piece of parchment which he handed to Leof. “Take two of our men from the guard-house, visit Aaron the moneylender and come back here with the money,” he instructed.
“Borrowing money from the Jews?” sneered fitzWymarc.
“My financial affairs are none of your business. The Relief money Bishop William demands will be here within the hour. I would suggest that few of those of whom Relief has been demanded would have paid so swiftly. Please make sure that your clerk provides my clerk with a receipt.
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