[Norman Conquest 01] Wolves in Armour (17 page)

The trial was held in the tithe-barn, a door placed horizontally on boxes acting as the judges’ bench. Alan was sitting as Chief-Judge, with all the twelve local thegns present to give judgment. The barn was nearly empty of produce with just a few sacks of grain and bundles of hay sitting on the dirt floor, but was packed with every one of the villagers. The smell of unwashed bodies hit Alan in the face as he walked in and saw the nine prisoners, filthy and in tattered clothing, lined up against the far wall with their hands and ankles manacled.

This was an easy case. The accused had been apprehended living in the forest clearly as outlaws and in each location there had been items that were clearly stolen. Most of the men were already resigned to their fate and stood apathetically, many failing even to give their names when questioned. Edwold and Alric gave sworn evidence about finding the men, the location of the hideouts and the goods recovered. When asked, none of the accused had any witnesses to call and Alan ruled that in the circumstances none were oath-worthy. One, a small thin boy of about twelve, with a dirty face and lousy torn clothes, was sobbing quietly.

“You, boy!” demanded Alan gruffly. “What are you doing here with these men?”

“Please, master,” came the hesitant reply in a thin voice. “My father brought me to the forest when he joined these men before Christmastide.”

“Which one is he?” asked Alan.

“He went out and didn’t return a week or so ago, along with a number of other men from our camp. Three returned and said the others had been killed in an attack.”

“Are those three here?” said Alan continuing the interrogation.

“Those two,” said the boy pointing. “The other one died this morning when he tried to run away.”

Alan laughed. “He was good at that, but not good enough this time when we were ready for him! Now did you ever take part in any robbery?”

“No, master! I was just used as a camp servant,” said the boy.

“Do any of you others gainsay what the boy has said? No? Well, perhaps you won’t hang with the others, but your case is difficult. You have no kin to give frankpledge on your behalf. The law permits me only to execute, fine or mutilate felons. Now, the twelve ealdormen, how say you on the guilt of the accused?”

Each of the thegns replied in turn, “Guilty!”

“Even the boy?” asked Alan.

All twelve nodded and Alric replied, “Even the boy.”

“I’m not supposed to pass sentence of death on any person not yet sixteen years of age,” said Alan thoughtfully.

“Well, that’s why you have your job as judge and I say you’re welcome to it,” replied Alric. “It’s your problem, not mine. You can always just cut off his right hand and tell him to abjure the county.”

“Excuse me, Sir” said one of the prisoners, who had been looking quietly confident during the proceedings. “May I have a private word with you before you pass sentence?” Alan noted that the man’s voice was somewhat less rustic than the churlish tones of the others and that he was slightly better dressed. “No, but you may speak before sentence is carried out. Now, I sentence each of you, except the boy…” Alan looked at the list in front of him “…Linn… to hang by the neck until dead, and to be buried in
unconsecrated
ground. Those of you who give your names to Edwold may be shriven by the priest. You have twenty minutes to make your peace with God. Now clear the Hall except for the ealdormen, Linn- and I think your name is Pearce, is it not?” The prisoner nodded.

The barn emptied quickly and Alan said to Pearce, “Speak quickly! You have an appointment with the hangman in a few minutes.”

Pearce inclined his head. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. This is not just a simple matter of a band of outlaws. Atelic, the leader who you killed last week, was given this area as his own, just as you were given your demesne. You’ve cleaned out the forest for now, but another band will be here within a few months. There’s a man from up Lexden way who is coordinating the outlaws. You’ll have noticed an increase in attacks in your Hundred. In Lexden Hundred they’re already starting to attack and sack villages. I can provide you or the sheriff with information that is well worth my life, and perhaps more.”

“Edwold, have these two manacled to the wall and set a man as guard. We’ll see the others hang and then discuss this further,” instructed Alan.

At the edge of the village was an oak tree with a particularly long horizontal branch- the hanging tree. When Alan and the ealdormen walked slowly up to the tree each of the seven men to be executed had a noose about their neck attached to a length of rope. Each stood in turn on a wooden box, which was then kicked away leaving the victim swinging in the air. There was only one box, so the process took some time. The hangman had not done a good job and only two of the seven died of a broken neck. The others hung gasping, legs thrashing as they slowly strangled. The villagers laughed and pointed, and some were taking bets on how long it would take individuals to die. The last took more than 45 minutes.

“Well, a good day’s hunting!” said Alan to the ealdormen as the crowd dispersed. “Edwold, I have to go to Colchester tomorrow to collect a new hauberk being made for me. Keep the two felons here tonight and I’ll take them to the sheriff tomorrow.”

Edwold was disappointed that Alan remembered he wanted the felons’ heads, which meant that he couldn’t leave the bodies hanging on the tree as a salutary lesson.

With the journey slowed by the cart it was nearly dark when they arrived back at Alan’s Hall in Thorrington. Alan had Anne carried out to the cart. As she looked at the pile of heads in the back of the cart a savage gleam came to her eyes. “How many?”

“Fourteen, including the seven we killed when we rescued you. We left another three dead in the forest and two will go to the sheriff for his decision,” replied Alan.

“And that is all of them?” she insisted.

“Every last motherless son,” said Alan with conviction.

Anne stood on tip-toe to kiss Alan’s stubbled cheek and said, “That is the best present anybody has ever given me.”

‘God save me from vengeful women’ thought Alan before replying, considering Anne’s apparent affinity with Boadicea. “The Lord said, ‘Justice is mine’. But I believe that we need to give him a hand whenever we can,” he said. “What do you want to do with them?”

“Put them on stakes at the northern entrance to the forest. Perhaps that will deter others,” instructed Anne.

Back in the Hall Alan had a chair and foot-stool set up for Anne by the fire and a substantial meal prepared. It had been a long day.

“I’ll be going to Colchester tomorrow and will pass through Wivenhoe. Is there anything that you want bringing back?” asked Alan. Anne rattled off a short list of clothes and the like. “You’ve been hereabouts for several years,” continued Alan.” Do you know anybody who may be able to act as a scribe for me? I have the Hundred court once a month and I can’t conduct the court and take notes at the same time. Preferably somebody with some knowledge of West Saxon law, but at least able to read English. I inherited copies of the Dooms setting out the local laws when I took over my fief, but I can barely read English.”

Anne pondered for a few moments and then said, “There’s a man who teaches in the priory school at Colchester. Osmund is his name. He’s young, about twenty,” Anne smiled as both she and Alan were younger than that. “His father was a priest, so he learned his letters while young. He wasn’t accepted for the priesthood himself because he asks too many difficult questions.”

Alan nodded his thanks and then asked. “Given that you can read, would you like me to borrow some books from the priory library?”

“You can do that?” queried Anne.

“As long as it’s nothing too fancy. No illuminations or anything like that. I’m sure I can talk my way around the librarian. English? Latin? Greek?”

“No Greek,” replied Anne. “My scholarship didn’t stretch that far. Yes, certainly anything to read would help pass the time, as does being allowed to come out of isolation in the bedchamber and spend time in the Hall.”

“Your condition is improving and you’re regaining your strength. You lost a lot of blood. If you wait just a moment, I have something that might interest you,” said Alan, carefully clearing the table near Anne and wiping it clean, before disappearing into the Solar. He was back in a couple of minutes carrying a large and very thick leather-bound book, which he placed on the table. “This is only on loan to pass the time,” he said as Anne opened the cover.

“A Bible!” she exclaimed. “A real Latin Bible! Not even our parish church has one!” She turned the pages carefully. “It’s beautiful!”

“Thank you,” replied Alan. “That’s actually half of the Bible, the other half is still in the Solar. I hope you can read it. My writing improved as I went along.”

“You wrote it yourself?” said Anne in a tone of disbelief.

“I copied it. It was my writing exercise for four hours a day over four years. I finished it just before I left the monastery at Rouen. It’s plain and un-illuminated, but a fair copy nonetheless. I read sections myself most evenings, or when I am troubled. I had it brought over from Normandy with some of my other things after I took up residence. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my lady, I’ve been up since three this morning and walked and ridden many miles. I think that it’s time I retired for the night. When you’re ready, call Kendrick for assistance- don’t try to get back to the bedchamber by yourself. And take the Bible with you.”

As she idly turned the pages Anne considered her host. A warrior and leader of men. Undoubtedly brave, yet literate, thoughtful, careful of his obligations and lacking in arrogance. His treatment of even his slaves showed care and common courtesy. Judging by the brief look that she had so far had at the books of account, he was a wealthy man who owned or controlled much of Tendring Hundred. And he was a good-looking young man. All in all, the man was a most unusual combination.

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Alan and his small party of four Saxon men-at-arms set out on horseback for Colchester early next morning, with two additional horses, being the price that Alan had agreed with the armourer for his new hauberk. They collected the outlaws Linn and Pearce, who rode the spare horses- in Linn’s case poorly as he had never been trained to ride.

As they rode through the southern gate of the old stone Roman wall that surrounded the town, kept in reasonable condition because the town was on the River Colne and over the years had been subject to frequent attack from raiders from the Eastern Seas, the priory bell was tolling for Nones at mid-afternoon. They stopped briefly at an inn, ‘The Three Hounds’, which was nearly in the middle of the town. Alan to dropped off his overnight bag and booked a room- his men would sleep by the fire in the Commons- and arranged for the horses to be stabled before he took the short walk to the newly-built castle to see the sheriff. They soon found that Robert fitzWymarc was away and not expected back for a week, but his deputy Roger saw them promptly enough and heard Pearce’s story with a cynicism similar to that of Alan himself.

“What do you think, Sir Alan?” asked the Deputy-Sheriff.

“I don’t know,” replied Alan thoughtfully, sipping at a cup of wine with which he had been provided. “The story doesn’t get any more convincing the second time you hear it. Still, there may be truth in it and it may be worth paying attention to what he says. I think it’s just a story to save his life- but it’s a very good story. Whether it’s good enough for him to avoid getting his neck stretched, I’ll leave to Sir Robert. The boy I’d just let go, but a week in the cells awaiting the sheriff’s pleasure won’t do him any harm. I’d appreciate it if you let me know what happens eventually.” With an abrupt change of topic Alan continued, “Has the warrant arrived as to when the campaign to occupy the north is intended to start, when we muster and where?”

“Yes indeed. Word was received several days ago. We muster a week after the Feast of the Annunciation, on the 2nd of April at Alan of Brittany’s castle in Cambridge. That’s in three weeks time. You’ll be aware that King William intends to return to Normandy shortly? No? Well, he’ll be leaving any day and his half-brother Bishop Odo of Bayeux and his cousin William fitzOsbern will be left in charge here in England.

“FitzOsbern will be leading the expedition north. Odo is busy in Kent with various disturbances down there. The English and their new Norman neighbours are having some differences that they’re sorting out with the sword. I think that it’s probably some upstart Normans stepping on sensitive English toes.” Alan remembered that fitzWymarc was a part-Breton, and presumably some of his men such as Roger had come to England at the request of Edward the Confessor a dozen or more years before. They probably viewed themselves almost as locals. Roger continued, “If needed, there’ll be a second muster six weeks later at Nottingham to replace those who have completed their forty days service. You have your men recruited?” Alan nodded. “Good. Sir Robert will be marching with our first contingent on the 30th March, six days after The Annunciation Day of the Lord,
if
 
you would care to join us on the journey?” Alan agreed readily and then took his leave as it was getting late.

After a walk to the priory in the gathering darkness Alan knocked on the wooden door in the stone wall surrounding the priory buildings. He was permitted entry, received directions to the school and was told that Osmund was currently teaching a class. In fact two classes were in progress when Alan walked into the cold and dimly-lit teaching-hall. A group of youngsters were being taught letters by an elderly monk, each student peering closely at the page in front of them as they worked. A younger man was teaching a small group of youths the principals of rhetoric. Just then the bell for Vespers began to toll, ending work for the day. The students quickly packed up their school-things before attending the service.