[Norman Conquest 01] Wolves in Armour (15 page)

Alan instructed the women, “Cover her up with the quilt and skins. Keep the brazier burning to keep the chill off the air. One maid to attend her at all times. I’ll sleep on a mattress in the office next door. Lynn, can you get some spare blankets for me? Brother Aldwyn, my thanks for your assistance. Praise be to God that you were here. Can you stay for a few days?”

“Nay! I must return to the priory tomorrow as there are many there who require my assistance.”

“Well my thanks go with you, and my prayers of gratitude. Perhaps I can do something to show my appreciation?” asked Alan

The cleric replied, “Well, there’s those medical parchments that you have- several aren’t included in our collection at the priory and I would ask that our librarian be able to copy them. We can also provide you in return with a copy of those tests that we have that are not amongst your collection. I’ll have prayers said for the lady’s recovery at Mass each day at the priory.”

Alan smiled and nodded, more than happy to oblige the cleric’s request.

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Alan was standing naked before two buckets of what had been hot, now tepid, water on a side-table in the bedchamber. After a vigorous session of sword practice he was soaping the sweat away and examining several new bruises, preparatory to rinsing himself off. Willa the housemaid was sitting quietly in the corner, supposedly with her eyes demurely lowered to the sewing on her lap but in reality spending much or the time surreptitiously eyeing Alan’s tall, wiry frame with its muscular shoulders and arms and broad hairy chest.

He suddenly felt another person watching him and turned to see a pair of the greenest eyes he had ever seen peeping out over the top of the down quilt on the bed, showing a considerable degree of confusion and concern. Somewhat embarrassed at his semi-tumescent state, he turned away and finished rinsing himself off before drying himself and slipping on first a pair of underpants and then a pair of breeches.

“Sorry about that,” said Alan somewhat sheepishly “But it is my bed-chamber and it’s the warmest place in the whole damn building. There’s a blizzard outside, the washing-house water is frozen solid and there was no way I was going to wash out there! How are you feeling?” he asked in Anglo-Saxon.

After a moment a quiet husky voice answered, “Well enough… To be truthful, I feel terrible. I’m painful all over.”

Alan slipped on a shirt as he approached the bed and took her hand, feeling the pulse in the wrist. “Headache, sore chest and a left leg that feels it is on fire?” he asked in a professional manner. The auburn-haired head gave a small nod. “Not surprising, given your injuries. Now what is your name and where are you from?”

“Anne of Wivenhoe. Who are you? Where am I and what happened to my people?”

Alan sat easily on the edge of the bed. “A nice name,” he commented. “I’m Alan of Thorrington, which is where you are- in my Hall. We came across your party being attacked in the forest by footpads. I’m afraid we were too late to save three of your men. The fourth was sore wounded when we left him at Alresford last night. He’s receiving what attention they can give but I’m doubtful of the outcome. We pray for his recovery.”

“And my maid, Bathhilda?”

“So that is her name? She seemed well enough in body, although much troubled and distressed, when we left. She’d not spoken and seemed in a trance. She had been badly used before we arrived- and the circumstances of her rescue would not have helped. With God’s good grace both she and your servant will recover, although to be honest the servant is in God’s hands.”

Anne went to raise her hand to cross herself and then realised she was naked under the coverlet. “Is this part of your normal courtesy to guests?” she enquired with asperity.

Alan smiled easily. “No. Willa and Synne have been sitting protecting your virtue and reputation. You had bled badly and your clothes were ruined, although you may be able to salvage something from your fur-lined cloak. We had to cut off your clothing when we treated you.”

“You? You treated me?” asked Anne gently feeling first her ribs, then her bandaged thigh before touching the top of the splint that held her leg straight.

“It was mainly Brother Aldwyn from Colchester Priory. Myself and the serving women just helped. Now I presume that you’ll need to use the
necessarium
? Willa, if you could give Lady Anne a shift to wear and her cloak, I’ll fetch thegn Alric and we’ll carry you to the facility. Willa, bring a stool also.”

Alan pulled on socks and boots and a warm
woollen
jerkin, sitting on the bed to do so, before striding to the door and calling for Alric. Turning back he caught a brief glimpse of breasts as the dress was pulled over Anne’s head. Pulling back the coverlet he instructed, “Roll to your right. I’ll support your left leg, then roll into a sitting position. Put your right foot to the floor. Willa, some slippers please. Thank you. Alric if you could take Lady Anne’s right arm, and as she stands we’ll cross hands under her buttocks and lift.”

In an aside to Anne Alan commented, “I asked for Alric because he’s so old that a flash of a lady’s thigh is unlikely to cause him irresistible urges, and he’s noble enough to make me control my youthful urges. Also he’s about my height, which makes carrying easier.” A few minutes later they were in the bitter cold outside. “The privy is too narrow for us to carry you in, so we’ll put you down standing facing in the correct direction and I’ll help you hop backwards. God, a frozen latrine stinks something awful! My new residence will be much better when I eventually get it built, if it doesn’t bankrupt me first. Now, I’ll retire and Willa will help you sit, place the stool for your leg and then assist you to clean yourself. Alric and I will be outside.”

Standing with their backs to the privy house, breath steaming in the cold air and rubbing their hands together for warmth Alric commented, “A very nice souvenir for you.”

“That is Lady Anne of Wivenhoe. Perhaps a little more than a souvenir,” replied Alan.

Alric nodded gravely. “I have heard of her. She has a large estate and is recently widowed. Her husband, about my age, was Aelfric. He marched north with King Harold to Stamford Bridge.”

Alan inclined his head. “And like many others, did not march back. A common enough story with three major battles within six months. How many dead altogether? Six thousand, eight thousand? And as usual they would have been the best the country had to offer.”

Alric pursed his lips. “Perhaps the events before Hastings were beneficial to you Normans. However, not all of the fallen were good and noble. From what I heard the people of Wivenhoe are well rid of Aelfric. A hard-drinking man- nothing wrong with that, we all do that. But with a violent and abusive temper when drunk. Lady Anne had been married to him for a couple of years and may not be lamenting his loss over much. I know that if I was younger and single, I would be pressing my suit for such a desirable catch. My wife Hilda, of course, would cut my balls off if she thought I was even considering it.” he concluded with the wry smile of a happily married man.

“Isn’t Hilda fifteen years younger than you?” asked Alan with a smile.

“And I feel it every morning when I get up after trying to satisfy her,” agreed Alric with a smirk. “How are you and Edyth getting on?”

“Well enough,” replied Alan shortly. Alric nodded and walked a few paces away before unbuttoning his trousers and relieving himself in a stream of steaming liquid against a fence-post. As the whole Hundred knew, Edyth was a very good looking young woman, reputed to be a handful between the sheets, but as a miller’s daughter and as brainless as a brick she was hardly suitable marriage material for a wealthy lord. Nonetheless, she was a suitable plaything for any man.

A gentle call from within the privy from Willa and Alan returned to open the door, helped Anne hop out and then he and Alric carried her inside back to the bedroom. They carefully sat her on the bed and Alan instructed her how to roll into a comfortable position while supporting the splinted leg. Extra pillows were placed to allow Anne to sit semi-reclined.

“After such a little effort I feel strangely tired,” commented Anne.

“Not surprising at all,” commented Alan. “I’ll have some food sent in. A meat-broth and fresh bread. If you can keep that down you can have something more substantial this evening. Willa, it’s probably Synne’s turn to sit in, if you’d go and fetch her.”

With a look at Anne’s drawn features and pursed lips he continued “My lady, with your leave I’ll provide some medicine for the pain. The leg in particular will be a problem for some time. Let me know if you feel the bandages on the leg are too tight.” He removed the coverlet. “Wiggle your toes. Good. No! I didn’t say move your foot up and down! That’ll take a few minutes to stop hurting. Just do what I tell you, or ask before you experiment yourself.”

A few minutes later he said, “Here’s your food. Synne help Lady Anne to eat. Good. Now that’s finished you probably want more, but let us wait. A cup of water and then take this potion which will put you to sleep for several hours.”

“What about notifying my people about where I am?” asked Anne wearily.

“Good point. I intended to send a rider to your Hall when the weather breaks to let them know where you are. Now, we know the name of your maid Bathilda, but the other chap at Alresford is about twenty-five, medium height, short blond hair, bad teeth and a brown and green tunic. Who’s he?”

“That would be Bebeodan,” said Anne as she drifted into sleep.

“Well, I’ll get the rider to call in at Alresford and find out is he is still alive and also let them know that at Wivenhoe,” said Alan, suddenly aware that he was talking to a person asleep.

The next few days passed in a similar manner. Alan only dispensed poppy juice when really required and then only in small amounts, preferring to use an infusion of chamomile and willow-bark. Alric had returned home and Alan used several different male servants to help carry Anne to the latrine. Anne objected to the daily sponge bath provided by the elderly and authoritative Lynn, but acquiesced when her objections were abruptly overridden by the forceful comments of the housekeeper. “Lord Alan has directed that this is what is to happen, and by God’s breath those are instructions I intend to follow,” she said very firmly. “He said if I didn’t do it he would!”

Alan kept out of the way at those times. However, he did insist on treating the wound to her thigh every day, with the pulling up of the dress to reveal the groin being an issue every time. Finally he had enough and said abruptly, “Lady, you don’t have anything that I’ve not already seen when I’ve been treating you- or otherwise when I have been with other women. Stop your complaining. The wound itches. That’s good and means it is healing. There’s no inflammation or puss, which frankly given the state the wound was in when it was worked on it is a minor miracle and can only be by God’s good grace- there was dirt and cloth fibres and everything in there. I assure you that my seeing a bit of your thigh will not harm your immortal soul or mine. That is why there are these ladies here to assist and watch, and preserve your reputation. Stop fussing and let me work. Lynn, please hold this end of the bandage while I wind the rest in place, and Synne, please support the leg up so I can slip the bandage underneath.” A few minutes later, and after a deep breath Alan continued. “Now for the ribs. It’s several days since I looked at them, so please remove the dress.”

Much to Alan’s surprise all hell broke loose. Anne hid under the bedclothes, shouting various imprecations that Alan had trouble hearing because they were muffled, the ladies gathered about the bed showed clear disapproval in their pursed lips and narrowed eyes. Alan impatiently pulled the quilt down, revealing a crouched-down Anne and shouted, “God’s blood! What is the matter? I’ve seen your breasts before. It’s not as if they are fantastic. Edyth’s are much better.”

That apparently was not the correct thing to say. While Lynn covered a laugh with a cough, and there was a giggle from the doorway behind, where Alan was reasonably sure that Edyth was watching, Anne went absolutely hysterical. “Bastard! Whore-son! Murderer! Pervert! Pederast!” she shouted, showing her versatility by using three languages.

Recognising an argument that he could not win, even if he was successful, Alan stepped back and raised his hands. “Very well, ladies, if it means so much I’ll step outside and you can arrange Anne’s clothes so I can inspect her ribs while whatever she wants remains covered. Lynn, you have the hot water?”

“Well it was hot, probably tepid by now,” replied Lynn as she pulled up Anne’s dress at the back.

“Doesn’t bother me if it is frozen,” muttered Alan as he waited outside, being given a few interested looks and smirks from the men sitting around the fire in the Hall, who had heard the ruckus. A few moments later he returned and penetrated the protective circle around Anne. Anne was sitting up on the bed, with Lynne carefully using a wet cloth to clean her chest where the bandages had bound tightly for the last few days.

As Alan expected her chest was not a pretty picture, a hand-sized patch of dark purple bruising on the left side of her rib cage surrounded by an area the size of a dinner-plate that was bruised various shades of yellow and brown. Anne looked somewhat subdued at seeing the extent of her injury. “Tell me if this hurts,” said Alan, starting gently pressing with his fingertips along the ribs on her back. A couple of minutes later he asked, “No pain from that? Good! Now this is going to hurt.”