The Bastard's Son

by H A CULLEY

‘I see. No doubt Odinel has been bleating to the king. Because Redesdale is an easy invasion route that leads into his lands he wants it and Otterburn at the southern end so that he can secure it. Evidently he doesn’t trust me. ’

  Odinel d’Umfraville was a Norman baron based in the town of Prudhoe a few miles to the west of Newcastle. His barony included a significant number of manors in the Tyne Valley and in the fertile area to the south of the Cheviots. Hugo wondered how much of a threat this was in reality, rather than another example of the king expressing his impatience in a typically petulant manner, prompted by d’Umfraville, of course.

  ‘You’d better write back saying that I am in the process of establishing a presence in Wark and will shortly commence work on improving the defences there. I will then move with all speed to Redesdale.’

  Hugo recalled his promise to Ranulph Flambard that he wouldn’t build a castle to defend the ford there until the bishop was in a position to do the same at Norham. From what he’d heard Redesdale was one of the Scots’ main routes into England and he would also need to build a castle somewhere to defend the valley. He didn’t have the resources to construct or the men to man three castles.

  The day after the death of the unfortunate Tolland Hugo had held a manor court at Harbottle and had been surprised when one of the plaintiffs had openly offered him a bribe to find in his favour. He had the man put in the pillory for three days and found in favour of the defendant. Apparently Tolland’s judgement always went to the highest bidder. Word that Hugo’s decisions were fair and that he wasn’t corrupt had evidently spread. This time when he arrived at Akeld the villagers were not only there, they welcomed him.

  Their thane was not well liked and they had driven him out of the village with his family as soon as they heard of Hugo’s approach. On the other hand the bailiff was comparatively popular and Hugo confirmed him in post once Herbert had inspected the books and pronounced him honest.

  Kirknewton, further along the valley of the River Glen that lay below Yeavering Bell, the old hill fort and ancient capital of the Angles of Bernicia, was more difficult. Although it was classed as a manor the village was no more than a hamlet with ten houses. There was no hall and no-one in charge. Three families lived in the hamlet and kept sheep on the hillsides and there were other isolated hovels in the surrounding hills, again inhabited by sheep herders. Hugo noted that the inhabitants weren’t paupers; their fleeces and the lambs they sold in Wooler obviously fetched good prices, but he would have to build a hall and develop the normal manor structure there in due course. For now he told them that he would require them to provide a tenth of their income, or the equivalent in labour or sheep.

  This didn’t please them as they had not been used to having a lord before, or even a reeve to tell them what to do, but they wisely realised that they were too small in numbers to resist the new order.

  By now it was the middle of October and Hugo was tempted to return to Harbottle for the winter. The weather had held so far but rain was becoming more frequent and it was getting colder. Godric told him that Wark wasn’t too far away across the hills to the north of Kirknewton so he decided to press on but he was conscious that they were a long way north of Harbottle and, if it started to snow, the route back might well become impassable.

  He found that Wark was a pleasant village sited on a ridge sloping down from west to east parallel to the River Tweed. This was a wide river and he looked with interest at the far bank where Scotland began. The slope on which the village lay stood a couple of hundred yards back from the river bank and quite a bit higher. Towards the western end there was a natural ridge which would be the obvious place to put the castle in due course.

  The villagers were surprised to see him and his conroy of armoured men, but not hostile. The hall house was quite large in comparison to the size of the village but Hugo learned that it had to accommodate the whole population when the Scots raided across the ford and the sizeable bailey inside a stout palisade was designed to house their animals.

  They had no thane but had elected a headman whose home it was. He was an old man who lived there with his sons, their wives and his grandchildren. One of the sons kept the accounts and the other was elected by the villagers as their foreman to co-ordinate what communal work needed to be done, so he was in effect their reeve. Hugo had his doubts as to the election. He suspected that it would a brave man who’d stand against him when his father was the headman and his brother acted as the bailiff.

  Hugo decided that he would accept the two sons as the bailiff and reeve and to allow the family to stay in the hall, at least for now. He made it clear to the new bailiff that he would require a tenth of the income from the manor and, in return, he would build a second hall with a solar for his use when he visited. This would house the small garrison he would station there. Eventually he would develop this into a castle so he sited it on the long ridge overlooking the ford.

  He gave Tristan the task of building the new hall and palisade and left him Sweyn and two serjeants to train a dozen young men from the village and surrounding hamlets as men-at-arms and archers. They would form the garrison.

  That done, he started back into the hills heading for Harbottle, well satisfied with his progress, even if William Rufus wasn’t. On the second night of the return journey they awoke to find the ground covered in three inches of snow and more falling from the grey sky every second. Hugo suddenly realised that the only person who knew this wild country well – Godric – was with Tristan back at Wark.

  -X-

  Hugh d'Avranches sat in the great hall of his castle at Chester getting uproariously drunk on the twelfth night of Christmas. His wife, Ermentrude of Claremont, had long since departed having learned from experienced that the sight of her husband and his companions sinking deeper into their cups was not an amusing experience. The Earl of Chester’s nickname was Hugh the Fat and it was an entirely justified sobriquet. He was a glutton but the Welsh had given him another name, Hugh the Wolf, because of the ferocity with which he had conquered much of North Wales, which he now held with the help of his cousin, Robert of Rhuddlan. The Welsh King of Gwynedd – the area the Normans now ruled – was Gruffudd ap Cynan, originally an ally of Robert’s, who had been betrayed by some of his own men nine years ago and who now languished half-starved in a dungeon below where Hugh was feasting.

  Hugh’s squire came hurrying up to his master whilst he was enjoying a ribald joke with two of his barons.

  ‘My lord, the king has arrived and is dismounting in the inner baily,’

  ‘What? Are you having a jest boy? I’ll have you flogged,’ the drunken earl mumbled, drool seeping out of the corner of his mouth.

  ‘No, my lord. You must hasten to greet him.’

  ‘What the hell is William doing here in the middle of winter?’ Hugh shook his head, trying to clear it.

  He lurched to his feet and half waddled, half stumbled towards the door that led from the great hall out to the inner bailey. Before he was halfway there the two doors were thrown open by two of his men and William Rufus strode into the hall using his leather gauntlets to brush the snow off his cloak.

  ‘We need to talk, Hugh, but I’m tired and you’re drunk. Show me to a chamber and we’ll meet tomorrow morning.’

  Hugh waved towards his seneschal who scuttled off to wake Countess Ermentrude so that the king could have the bed in the solar with its brazier of hot coals to ward off the worst of the winter chill. She and the Earl would have to make do with a cold room elsewhere tonight.

  The following morning Hugh and his wife came out of mass in the small wooden chapel in the inner bailey and headed for the great hall to break their fast. The king, who rarely attended religious services if he could help it, was already there and greeted the earl warmly. He completely ignored Ermentrude who sat beside him in a huff throughout the meal.

  Hugh started to talk about the Welsh, who were quiet at the moment, but William cut him off.

  ‘I’m not here t
o talk about the blasted Welsh. It’s Canmore who is the problem.’

  ‘Malcolm Canmore? What are the Scots up to? I thought that the truce had been holding ever since he submitted to your father fifteen years ago? Apart from a few border raids, of course, but that’s what passes for peace in the border country.’

  ‘That’s the problem. The treaty was between Canmore and my father. He is refusing to confirm that the same agreement exists between him and me.’

  Hugh sucked his teeth. This was bad news for him. The border between England and Scotland was rather fluid. Only eighty years ago Northumbria had stretched as far north as Edinburgh and the Firth of Forth. Cumbria had originally been part of Northumbria but it had been lost to the Scots when the Danes invaded and defeated the Angles. His earldom included Lancashire and Cumbria lay to the north of it. Any breakdown in the truce with King Malcolm threatened his northern manors and the town of Lancaster.

  ‘What do you propose to do, sire?’

  ‘I need to go to Normandy as soon as possible to reach an agreement with my brother. Once I have made sure that he won’t take advantage of my involvement here in the north, I intend to invade Scotland and force Malcolm Canmore to renew the truce and to cede Cumbria to me.’

  Hugh nodded, his eyes lighting up at the prospect of adding Cumbria to his vast possessions. Noting this, William laughed.

  ‘You can forget any ambitions you have in that area, Hugh. I owe others favours too. I have already promised to give three of my supporters baronies in Westmorland – the southern part of Cumbria. I shall keep the remainder in my own hands for the time being.’

  The earl tried to hide his disappointment and tried another tack, thinking that no-one had been a greater supporter of William Rufus than he had been and the king needed to recognise that.

  ‘I presume that you will need my help, William?’

  ‘As ever, Hugh. Don’t worry, I will show my gratitude in other ways.’

  ‘I see,’ he said doubtfully. He was well aware what the promises of princes were worth – nothing.

  ‘You’ve heard about Durham, I suppose?’ William said, changing the subject quickly.

  ‘You mean the recall of Flambard and the re-instatement of that ineffectual buffoon, William of Calais? Yes.’

  The king sighed. ‘I was forced into a corner. With the See of Canterbury vacant the churchmen pressured me into removing Ranulph and pardoning William of Calais. It was either that or agreeing to the appointment of Anselm of Bec as primate and he and I would have just ended up fighting the whole time.’

  ‘A pity though, Ranulph Flambard might make your uncle Odo look like a proper churchman but at least he would have helped secure your eastern border with Lothian.’

  ‘True, but I’m glad to have him back as my treasurer. He does tend to be able to screw taxes out of people and God knows I need money at the moment.’

  After a short pause Hugh returned to the matter foremost on his mind at the moment.

  ‘When do you hope to launch your invasion?’

  ‘In the spring of next year. That will give me time to settle matters with my brother. By then de Cuille should have finished pacifying the area of Northumberland that adjoins Cumbria to the east. God knows what’s taking him so long.’

  -X-

  At the same time as the earl and the king were conferring at Chester, Hugo was celebrating the last of the festive season. He had been to mass every day since arriving back at Harbottle to give thanks for his survival. He knew immediately he saw the snow that death from exposure was a very real possibility. It had covered the tracks which they had been relying on to guide them from Kirknewton back to Harbottle and they were therefore lost in the middle of the Cheviot Hills.

  He considered trying to make their way back to Kirknewton but, even if they did so without getting lost, it was too small to offer them all shelter and food if they became stranded there. He was still pondering what to do when the snow petered out and he could see more than a few yards around him.

  Everything was white and he had difficulty in making out the shapes of the surrounding hills at first, but then patches of blue sky began to appear, as if in answer to his prayers, and when the sun made an appearance he could make out the glistening mass of Yeavering Bell to the north. He yelled to his men to pack the camp up and, using the sun to guide him, he headed due east.

  The next few days were difficult. Snow showers came and went, as did the sun. One night over six inches of snow fell which made the going very difficult the next day. Then the weather grew warmer and the snow started to thaw. Trudging through the slush they eventually crested a ridge and saw Wooler on the slope below them. They had made it just in time. The dried meat, flour and root vegetables they had brought with them had run out the previous day and the horses hadn’t been able to graze for days. Most of them were in a poor way but they had only lost two.

  As luck would have it, the snow had gone completely three days later, except on the top of the hills where it lingered in hollows that the sun didn’t reach. Instead the ground had turned into a quagmire.

  They had stayed at Wooler for ten days recovering. Two boys had lost fingers and one of the serjeants a toe to frostbite and two more of the horses died, but otherwise everyone was fine. No-one was keen to take the short route to Harbottle through the hills, even with a local guide, and they rode down Glendale before entering the Alnwick barony and then following the River Coquet through the village of Rothbury back to Harbottle. It was well into November by the time they got there and dank mist and drizzle greeted them as they rode through the village to the castle.

  Bertram and Herbert had done well during the time he’d been away and the new hall and solar on top of the rocky outcrop was completed, along with the watchtower. Most of the necessary outbuildings were well underway and work had started on the palisade. It was enough for them to live there during the winter and work could continue when the weather permitted it. Snow in October was unusual but it was quite normal for it to make the roads impassable by Yuletide.

  The storerooms were well stocked and Herbert had even managed to construct a dovecote so there would be some fresh meat on hand for those days when hunting was impossible. Hugo was well pleased. Winter was always a tough time but he was content that they were well prepared for it. However, what really pleased Hugo was the arrival of Edith in mid-December. His son Robert had brought her up with him so that they could all celebrate Christmas together.

  The snow had held off, apart from a few flurries, and in mid-January Robert and Edith returned to Derbyshire. They were needed there and Hugo would be away securing the last of his manors in Redesdale as soon as he could.

  However, that wasn’t likely to be soon. The snow had returned in earnest a week after Edith and Robert had left and this time it looked like staying for a while.

  -X-

  It was mid-March before Hugo finally managed to lead his men across to Otterburn at the southern end of Redesdale. They went back down Coquetdale to the hamlet of Hepple, part of the Harbottle manor, and then followed two local guides through the hills west to Redesdale. After the experience of the previous October he would want to know the Cheviot Hills an awful lot better before he’d go far without guides again.

  Redesdale was a long wide valley that ran for fifteen miles from Carter Bar on the border high in the Cheviots south eastwards to Otterburn. The River Rede continued on south of Otterburn to join the North Tyne but the next manor south, that of Woodburn at the beginning of Redesdale, belonged to the d’Umfravilles. Otterburn was a large village and it and the land around it formed one manor; the remainder of Redesdale with several small villages and hamlets another.

  Hugo halted the column when they crested the last rise and the valley of the Rede lay before them with Otterburn nestling on this side of the river. The only building on the far bank was a water mill. However, what drew his attention immediately was the large flock of sheep being driven up the hill towards him by two boys a
nd three dogs. They were so intent on their task that they hadn’t seen him. The others in the column were still hidden by the crest over which he had just come.

  He turned round and headed back down the other side, sending two men off the road into the trees on the left hand side. The sheep appeared over the crest first and milled about, bleating and confused, when they saw the column of mounted men. When two boys and the dogs appeared over the crest urging the flock on, they turned to run as soon as they saw the armoured horsemen. They were too late as Hugo’s two serjeants rode in and, leaning down from their saddles, grabbed both boys and hoisted them in the air. They carried them wriggling and yelling and dumped them on the ground in front of Hugo.

  One of the boys, the younger who looked to be about ten or eleven, turned to run again but one of the serjeants raised his crossbow in warning and the lad changed his mind, staring sulkily at Hugo instead.

  ‘What do you want with us?’ the older one, a boy of perhaps thirteen or fourteen, asked belligerently, though his eyes betrayed how scared he was.

  Hugo had trouble with the thick accent but Godric, who had come up to his side in case he was needed, explained what he had said.

  ‘A little information, and if you are truthful and show me proper respect as your lord, I might even let you both live.’

  ‘Your lord? Nay, our lord be Colm Dhu of Liddesdale.’ The boy evidently got the gist of what Hugo had said in English.

  ‘Colm Dhu?’ Hugo turned to Godric, puzzled.

  ‘Black Colin. Liddesdale is over the border in Scotland.’

  ‘I see. It would seem that he has encroached into Northumberland. Evidently we need to teach him where his domain ends and mine begins’

  He turned back to the two scruffy urchins and, using Godric as interpreter, began to question the boys.

  ‘How many armed men does this Colm Dhu have?’

  But either they didn’t know or they weren’t saying. Hugo tried another tack.