“Lord Aelfric does me great honour by naming me lord of Gudmundcestre. I have heard many great and wonderful things about this village and its people on my journey here and I am proud and privileged in equal measure to be given this opportunity.
“I swear, in front of you all now and before God as my witness,” he nodded towards the priest who stood, arms folded, in front of his church, “that I will give you peace so that you may prosper in safety, I will forbid robbery and banditry in all its forms and I will exercise justice and mercy in all judgements brought before me. These three things I promise to you faithfully as your lord.”
He was pleased to see that, as he spoke, several of those listening to him turned to their neighbours and nodded, muttering what he hoped were complimentary comments. Several more smiled back at him, from which he took great encouragement. Just as he was hoping he had gotten away with it, however, the priest pushed his way forward to the front of the throng.
“Those are fine words, Lord, but may I ask how you can promise protection? You are but one man and the town lost not only its master at Senlac but also ten of its best fighting men. We stand here today with little or no protection from bandits and brigands. Already we hear whispers from travelling merchants that word has reached the outlaws who dwell in the forests that surround us that Gudmundcestre lies undefended.”
Thurkill nodded, acknowledging the virtue of the priest’s point. Many of those around him murmured their support too. Thurkill knew that safety and security were paramount for these people, many of whom owned nothing more than their ploughs and their cattle. Losing either of those would see them destitute but for the charity of others.
“A fair question, Father Wulfric.” The priest looked surprised, and not displeased that he knew his name. “Let me reassure you that I do not come here empty handed.” He waved his hand towards his companions who sat patiently as his side. “I bring five staunch warriors with me, men who are proven in combat. Together, we will fill the gap left by those who did not return from battle. Not only will I and these men keep you safe, but they also come from good farming stock. I intend to put them to work on the ploughlands left empty by your sad losses. They will grow the crops that their predecessors would have, so that none may starve next winter. If you will have them?”
A chorus of loud “ayes” greeted his question, causing Thurkill to smile broadly. He was winning them round. Even Aelfric clapped him on the back, congratulating him on his speech.
Seeking to build on his advantage, Thurkill continued. “I have seen on our approach today that this place is protected by an earthwork.”
“Yes, but it’s neither use nor ornament. A child of six could scale it without difficulty.”
“Exactly my thinking, too.” Thurkill smiled. “If I am to protect you from brigands, then this will have to change. Therefore, I will promise here and now that my first task as Lord of Gudmundcestre will be to improve its defences.”
“And I will lend men from Huntendune to help you.” Aelfric’s intervention was perfectly timed. Great cheers went up from the crowd as they saw that their new lord’s promise to improve their lot had been backed by the great Lord Aelfric. As the cheering continued, Thurkill dismounted so that he could make his way around the assembled throng, shaking hands as he went, ruffling the hair of snot-nosed children who stared wide-eyed at this newcomer who towered over everyone else.
As he moved past a little girl who stood barefoot but proud in front of her father, he felt her tug at his sleeve. “Are you married?”
Embarrassed, her father clipped her round the ear with the flat of his hand. “Quiet, Elspeth. Do not presume to question our lord so. It is none of our business.”
Elspeth’s face reddened, tears beginning to well in her eyes. Thurkill’s heart went out to her; she reminded him of his sister, Edith. The same bright eyes and ready smile, the same confidence to speak up in front of so many. Dropping down to his haunches, he wiped a tear away from her cheek with a grimy finger, leaving a dirty streak in its place.
“Where are my manners? I thank you, Elspeth, for reminding me of them. I am not married, but I do bring with me a lady whom I hope will one day become my wife. Would you like to meet her?”
Elspeth nodded, sniffing back the tears. Thurkill rose and held his hand down for the young girl to take hold. She had to reach up above her head to be able to do so and her tiny fingers were engulfed in his huge shovel of a hand. Still, she was not frightened. Not once did she look back to her father for reassurance but, rather, she allowed herself to be led through the group of strange, armed warriors towards the lead cart of the five that had arrived in the town.
As they arrived, Thurkill let go of Elspeth’s hand so that he could reach up to help Hild down. “Hild, I would like you to meet my new friend, Elspeth.”
Hild allowed herself to be carried to the ground. As she watched, Elspeth’s mouth opened to form a round O of astonishment. “You’re beautiful.”
Hild smiled warmly. “No more so than you, Elspeth, though I thank you for your kind words. I am pleased to hear you are Thurkill’s friend and I dearly hope you will be my friend too. I am sure there is much we can talk about.”
The young girl beamed happily. But then her face suddenly turned into a frown, as if remembering something important. “Are you going to marry Lord Thurkill?”
Hild laughed, only mildly abashed by Elspeth’s directness. “Well, I don’t know. He has not asked me, so I am unable to offer an answer. What would you do if you were me, Elspeth? Would you marry him?”
Elspeth paused and turned to stare appraisingly at Thurkill who looked embarrassed and uncomfortable at the scrutiny of the two women. “I think I like him. He has been kind to me and I think that means he would be kind to you too.”
“And kindness is important if two people are to be together, isn’t it? Is your father kind to your mother?”
“He was, but I have no mother now. She died last winter of a fever.” There was no sadness, no weeping. It was a mere statement of fact as if it were the most everyday thing, but Hild’s heart melted. Though it was a fact of life for so many, it was still painful to see one so young suffer such a loss. Hild, knelt in front of the girl and hugged her close, enveloping her in her fur-lined cloak. “In which case, we should definitely be friends so that you have another woman to talk to whenever you want. Here…” Hild reached inside her sleeve to retrieve a small, bone comb, one of several that she had bought in the markets of Lundenburh before they had left. “Take this, Elspeth, I have others. Later, perhaps tomorrow, we can comb each other’s hair until it is shiny?”
Elspeth took the gift with great reverence. Doubtless she had never seen, let alone held, such a thing as finely wrought as this. Mumbling her thanks, she ran back to her father, showing him the comb and babbling excitedly.
Once again, Thurkill could have hugged Hild right there and then. Whilst he had made good strides in appealing to the menfolk with his promises of security and protection, Hild had built a bridge directly to the women of the village. Seeing how gracious and kind she was with Elspeth and how she carried herself with assurance and poise, it was immediately apparent that this was someone to whom they could look to as lady of the lord’s hall.
EIGHTEEN
What was I thinking? Thurkill groaned as he woke up, wintry sun dancing across his face in time with the wind’s movement of the drape that hung over the window of his lord’s chamber. To welcome the new lord and lady properly, Aelfric had arranged for a feast to be held on the night of their arrival. Alwig the Steward had been sent ahead to make arrangements for everything to be ready, which explained why the whole village had been expecting their arrival. It had proven to be a resounding success, not least because of the seemingly never-ending quantities of ale that Aelfric had seen fit to provide.
It was yet another reason for him to be grateful to his lord, as man after man clapped him on his back and wished him well, while their ladies had complimented Hild o
n her dress, her jewellery, and her hair. Even Wulfric had made merry, perhaps a little too much by the end as Thurkill had last seen him vomiting copiously into a bucket held by a grimacing thrall.
The priest was a short man, barrel-chested – almost as round as he was tall – whose red face seemed to be permanently bathed in rivers of sweat. He had a voracious appetite for bread, meat and ale, all of which he devoured with great gusto, punctuating every other mouthful with immense belches that reverberated around the hall. It took Thurkill by surprise at first – he had never met a priest who was anything other than pious and restrained in his habits – but he soon found himself warming to him.
Eahlmund had already become fast friends with him, finding a kindred spirit in his enjoyment of ale and food. They spent most of the feast sat together swapping ribald jokes and songs, behaviour that seemed very unbecoming of a man of God, although was very much in keeping with Eahlmund’s character.
Thurkill had also drunk heavily. He had told himself not to, wanting to present a good and sober example to his people, but as the night wore on so his defences came down, so happy was he to be there. Though, he kept a tight rein on his behaviour, he was deep in his cups by the time the night came to an end.
As the fire in the hearth had died down to its embers and the last of the people either went to their homes or simply curled up on the floor in their cloaks, he had sat – or rather, slumped – in his lord’s chair just smiling to himself. Forgotten, for the moment, were the deaths of his family, forgotten was the fact that England had a new, Norman, king and forgotten was the fact that he had, in FitzGilbert, a sworn enemy who would like nothing better than to gut him as he himself had done to his brother. For now, he was simply happy. Happy to be away from the turmoil of the city, happy to have his own hall and, above all, happy to have his Hild at side.
This morning, however, was a different matter. His head was thumping as if many little feet were stamping in unison inside his skull. His tongue felt twice its normal size and seemed to be plastered to the roof of his mouth. Opening his eyes, he quickly shut them again as the low sun burned directly into his soul, making his head hurt even more. Over from the corner of the chamber, which was screened off from the rest of the hall by a thin wattle and daub wall, the sound of Hild’s laughter mocked his sorry state. “I said you would regret that last cup of ale or, should I say, the last several cups.”
Forcing himself up onto one elbow, Thurkill rubbed his other hand over his face, feeling the rough scrape of his wiry stubble. “Shush, woman, and bring me a cup of watered ale to freshen my mouth.”
“Ha, you can go yourself. The sooner you remove your stinking hulk from this chamber, the sooner I can have it smelling nice once more. These flowers that Elspeth brought have already wilted under the onslaught of your foul stench. Besides, you boys have a wall to build or did you forget your fine promise?”
“Oh God, yes. Well it seemed a good idea at the time is all I can say.”
“Go on with you, Killi. The exercise will do you good and will help to clear your head. Oh, and mind you jump in the river before you come home. I won’t have your sweaty, muddy carcass ruining our nice chamber. Go on, be gone, I have work to do to make this place into a home and I promised to help Elspeth with her hair. I have a mind to appoint her my maid if you are agreeable?”
“Is she not a bit young for that? And what about her father? Will he not have need of her on his farm?”
“He has three older sons who already work with him. He has more than enough hands for his plot.”
“In which case, if it pleases him and you, I have no objection.”
***
Outside, the blast of cold air hit him like a stinging slap in the face. Beating his arms around himself to drive warmth through his body, he was eager to be about his business if only to stave off the cold. Over by the earthwork, he was pleased to see the others already waiting for him. True to his word, whilst Aelfric had departed at dawn for his own hall, he had left a score of men to help with the works. With the six of his warband plus another score of men from Gudmundcestre, Thurkill reckoned they would make quick work of the task, though with the short daylight hours at that time of year, it still promised to be three to four days’ work at least.
He divided the men into two groups. To the first and larger of the two, he instructed Eahlmund, Eardwulf and Copsig to issue shovels and ordered them to begin work on the ditch around the outside of the earthwork. He wanted it to be deeper than the height of a tall man, more than six feet in truth. The earth that was dug out was to be piled up on the bank so that – once complete – the combination of ditch and bank would be a formidable barrier to any would-be attackers.
The second group was given hatchets and sent, under Leofric’s and Leofgar’s guidance, into the surrounding woods, with orders to look for young straight trees, of which there were plenty in these parts. They would need a hundred or more if they were to build a palisade on top of the earthwork that would stretch all the way around the village. He had seen how it had been done at Warengeforte and hoped to be able to recreate a similar structure here. Each log, once cut, would need to be stripped of its branches, cut to a consistent length and then tapered at each end so that it could be sunk into the soft earth to a depth that would keep it rigid. The upper end would also be sharpened to a point as a further deterrent to any that might chance their luck by trying to scale the wall.
With the men thus dispersed, Thurkill divided his time between both groups, overseeing and encouraging, lending a shoulder wherever it were needed. He planned to help as much as he could, not only to show that he was not going to be sort of lord that expected others to labour on his behalf, but also because the bitingly cold temperatures demanded that he not spend his time being idle. He envied Hild staying warm inside the hall. Yes, she had plenty of work on her hands helping to prepare meals to feed them all while they worked, but at least she could do so next to the raging hearth fires, stirring the thick vegetable stew that simmered in the huge iron cauldrons and baking the flat, round loaves to dip in it.
The work proceeded swiftly. Everywhere, the men worked hard, as if eager to impress him. As they laboured, they swapped tales and sang songs that were usually either funny or crude, often both. The camaraderie kept their spirits high and helped them forget the cold, their aching joints and straining muscles. Regular bowls of hot stew in which large lumps of fresh bread floated also helped.
Everywhere Thurkill went he smiled to see the effort that the villagers were putting in to the project. He was also starting to pick up a few names here and there, so he was able to congratulate and thank those individuals as he passed. He could have sworn that each time he did so, the man in question worked that little bit harder or stood that little bit taller as a result. He resolved to learn as many names as he could, aware of the effect it had on a man’s morale to be praised by his lord.
By midday on the third day, work on the ditch and earthwork was complete. Breathless, the men leaned on their shovels, admiring the result of their labour. It was an impressive sight and testament to the enthusiasm and collaboration of all involved. Even Aelfric was impressed, having made the short journey from Huntendune to check on progress. “I’ll have need of you in Huntendune too, if you can achieve this much in fewer than three days. Truly admirable. I congratulate you all.”
For the rest of the day, work centred on building the palisade. Those that had been digging the rampart swapped their shovels for adzes as they began shaping the logs ready to be dug into the ground. Those who had been chopping down the trees now formed themselves into smaller groups who took each trunk as it was finished and drove it deep into the soil so that half a man’s height was buried beneath ground while still leaving a good eight feet above. Progress was slower now, not least because Aelfric had recalled his men for other tasks for which he had need of them. Nevertheless, the wall still began to take shape as post after post was slotted into place on top of the earthen bank.
Thurkill calculated that another two days, at most, would see the job done.
“What do you think?”
Eahlmund stood next to him, covered almost from head to foot in cloying mud. “It’s not a look I particularly favour, if I’m honest, but I am sure it will wash off.”
Thurkill punched him good-naturedly on the arm. “Oh, you mean the defences? A fine job, if I say so myself. I didn’t think we would achieve so much this quick, Lord.”
“Me neither, but that just shows what can be done if everyone pulls together, eh? Whilst I am glad to have the wall – its value to the village is beyond doubt – the real benefit is what you can’t see.”
“How so, Lord?”
“Look at the people, Eahlmund. They labour willingly for their lord with a smile on their face. New friends have been made, new songs have been created, new bonds made. We cannot forget the womenfolk in this too. Hild’s marshalled them as well as any captain of war might, so that we’ve not wanted for food and drink during the whole time. This is a group of people who are more close-knit now than they have ever been. We’ve achieved more than I could have hoped.”
Eahlmund was about to reply when an horrific scream rent the cold air. Eahlmund was first to react. “Quick! It came from the woods, from the logging camp, I’d say.”
As they ran, any number of terrifying scenarios flowed through Thurkill’s head. Were they under attack? If so, from whom? Normans? Bandits? Perhaps it was a wild boar or a wolf? Aelfric had said some had been known to come close to settlements in the winter when hunger drove them to take greater and greater risks. He wished he had his war axe with him but, as it was, he would have to meet whatever danger awaited them with just his seax. He had already pulled it from his belt as he sprinted towards the sound. Several others were running from all directions, drawn to the pitiable sounds that continued to rip into Thurkill’s soul.
Saxon Storm: The Huscarl Chronicles Books 1 & 2 Page 38
