At least three mornings a week Alan conducted training for his warriors in the covered salle d’armes, keeping his own edge and improving the skills of the recruits. His deputy Hugh did the same at the manor he was supervising for Alan, albeit in his case outdoors when weather permitted, due to lack of indoor facilities. There was no training ahorse for the men-at-arms as the deep snow on the training field precluded this.
Alan spent most afternoons tinkering in his workshop, with the occasional assistance of the village carpenter, building the eight ballistae and two onagers he intended to dispatch to Staunton in the spring. Life settled into a boring rustic existence while the people, animals and land waited for spring.
The holding pens by the Alresford creek for the live fish worked quite well, allowing fresh fish and shellfish to be kept, although the tanks for the crabs and lobsters were not as successful due to their cannibalistic nature. They were placed in the tanks to be purged, which made them hungry- so they tried to eat each other.
The shellfish, lobsters and crabs were reserved for the high-table. The Hall servants and soldiers ate fresh fish when available, and salted when it was not. There was only one week when because of protracted storms Brother Wacian granted a dispensation to the villagers to eat the meat of fowl, which Alan took advantage of despite the Hall having ample supplies of salt fish, having some of the chickens, peafowl, pheasants and quail which were usually kept in pens killed to provide variety to the diet.
By assiduous effort a varied and interesting menu featuring seafood, albeit with usually just one main course, was maintained. After the first disaster Anne had made it clear to Otha the cook that, at least at high-table, they expected well cooked and well presented meals. Being bored and cooped up inside was bad enough without having to eat poor food. A good meal, with fine wine, gave the day a lift. While the dietary restrictions of Lent caused some problems it didn’t mean that they had to eat fish stew every night.
Each Sunday, as permitted by custom, cows, calves, pigs, chickens and sheep were slaughtered and cooked for the eighty or so occupants of the Hall and barracks; dishes featuring eggs were prepared and cheese eaten. The hoi polloi as usual ate food of a basic but filling nature, while Otha was required to use every drop of her talent to produce high-quality meals for the high-table. Brother Wacian was a frequent guest at table. To his chagrin and embarrassment he began to put on weight, which he was not supposed to do while suffering the privations of Lent.
In the middle of March the weather improved and the frozen earth softened enough to allow ploughing to commence and the spreading of manure to be completed. The mares and cows were due to drop their young in another month or so and the sows were farrowing.
CHAPTER THREE
Essex and Wales March 1068
Alan had always prided himself on his self-control and temperament, but he did admit that on the very few occasions he lost his temper it was something memorable and spectacular.
On this occasion, after receiving a message passed on by his clerk Osmund, he was absolutely incandescent with anger. He was standing in the salle d’arms, the covered training room just off the armoury. Alan had been drilling five men in the large room with its dirt floor, with the assistance of Brand the huscarle and with the youth Leof observing and learning.
There were four oak posts, each six inches thick, set deep into the dirt floor. Two had straw dummies attached. Alan drew his sword in a flash and within moments had reduced each of the straw dummies to chaff. A double-handed backhand swipe at the next post had the sword penetrate half way before becoming stuck. Alan with a conscious effort opened his hands and released the hilt. He loved that sword and he wasn’t quite that angry that he wanted to break it. Snatching up a two-handed Danish war-axe from the rack of weapons, he reduced the fourth post to kindling in moments before standing with the axe-head on the ground, leaning against the haft and panting slightly.
Brand raised his eyebrows, dismissed the men and took the axe out of Alan’s unresisting hands, putting it back in its slot in the weapons rack. “Now that you’ve got that out of your system, let’s go inside and sort out what we need to do,” he said in a deliberately bland voice. He looked at Leof and pointed at the still-quivering sword embedded deep in the wood. “Get Aethelhard the blacksmith,” he instructed the youth.
They walked the short distance to the Hall. Anne sat in a chair near the fire, wearing a green velvet dress and a cloak lined with ermine fur, sewing some sort of garment. Her belly was by now slightly swollen, with her first child expected in the autumn. She gave a cheerful smile until she saw that Alan’s face was like thunder and asked, “What’s the problem?”
“The damned Welsh raided over the border again and burnt and sacked Norton Canon for the second time in six months,” explained Osmund quietly. “Robert’s messenger just arrived. As you know Alan was waiting until the spring crop sowing was over before he punished them for their last transgression. They beat him to it.”
Leof came into the Hall, carrying Alan’s sword which Aethelhard had extracted from the oak post in the salle d’arms. Alan saw him and handed over the baldric and scabbard for Leof to put the sword away.
It was Maunday Thursday, 20th March in the year 1068, Easter being very early that year.
“The Feast of the Annunciation on 25th March is on Tuesday next week, in five days. Another damn Quarter Day with taxes to be paid! I want two ox-carts with flour and seed grain on their way to Staunton tomorrow. Yes, I know that day is Good Friday, just do it! No, make that three carts and add some sacks of dried beans and barrels of dried or salted fish or beef. The Vale can’t support or feed our men. Brand, have ten huscarles ride on the wagons. The rest of us will leave on Wednesday, escort the taxes to Colchester and then proceed to Staunton. That’s a journey of four days if we push it, 225 miles. The ploughing here is complete. Any sowing or harrowing still needing to be done after Lady Day can be done by the women and children and those men left behind. I want all 30 of the mounted men-at-arms we have, the Wolves, and 40 of the 50 longbowmen. I also want 50 of the 63 infantrymen who answer to me. Put their armour and a supply of 2,000 arrows on the carts leaving tomorrow, so the men can march unladen. I’ll leave Hugh in charge here with Anne and a small force in case anything happens here. Contact the thegns and invite them to send along their mounted men-at-arms and huscarles, and pass word to the men of the fyrd that I’d welcome any trained man who wishes to march with us, paid at a penny a day.”
Alan then had an argument with Anne, who wanted to accompany the force, finally having to invoke his position as ‘senior partner’ to specify that somebody in Anne’s ‘delicate situation’ could not spend most of each day on a horse, covering 60 miles or more a day.
Despite the solemnity of the Easter season the estate began to hum with activity. The Mass commemorating the celebration of the first Eucharist by Jesus and the Disciples was conducted with a congregation that had many of its members with other things on their mind. The Gloria was sung, the church bell rang and fell silent, to so remain until Easter Day. The ceremony of the washing of the feet was neglected that day.