On Good Friday, as was normal, Eucharist was not celebrated. Instead the congregation gave penance, with a long line to see Brother Wacian for absolution- particularly those men due to march west a few days later. The Liturgy of the Word, the Veneration of the Cross and the Stations of the Cross were performed by the priest.
Holy Saturday was supposed to be a day of reflection and prayer. While those who were able did conduct themselves thus, for many others it was a time of frantic activity- shoeing horses, checking and repairing armour and sharpening swords. Alan’s personal army would be marching to visit God’s vengeance on the Welsh and they intended to be ready and leave nothing to chance.
The following morning the Vigil was performed before dawn, followed by the service for Easter Day. Within the crowded church the Paschal Candle was lit and the Exultet chanted. The congregation heard readings from the Old Testament, the singing of the Gloria and Alleluia and the Gospel of the Resurrection. The sermon given by Brother Wacian was specially written by him to provide comfort and reassurance to the warriors going to war, promising eternal life for all who truly repented and believed. Baptisms were performed and the congregation renewed their baptismal vows. The afternoon was spent in feasting and drinking, the village celebrating the end of the privations imposed by Lent.
Alan and his men marched on Wednesday 26th March, the day after the Solemnity of the Annunciation of the Lord. With the coming of spring each day was now over 12? hours long and Alan expected to cover a substantial distance each day. His force of 30 mounted men-at-arms, 50 infantrymen and 40 longbowmen were gathered at Wivenhoe, together with another 23 mounted men, thegns and their retainers, and 89 fyrdmen. The Hundred men were coming along out of a sense of adventure and wanted to put their newly-acquired fighting skills to the test.
Including his men already in Herefordshire, or recently dispatched thereto, Alan would be able to field over 250 swords. The Hundred men and Alan’s foot-soldiers marched out together as the day was dawning. The mounted men-at-arms would accompany the slower ox-carts carrying the taxes to Colchester and then catch up with the others later in the day. Alan had sent Osmund, Leof and half a dozen riders on ahead the day before to make arrangements at each of the places Alan intended to stay overnight, Stevenage, Oxford and Gloucester, for food and accommodation to be available- which was no small undertaking given the size of the force mustered.
After safely delivering the taxes and leaving Wybert, Anne’s steward at Wivenhoe, to attend to obtaining the necessary receipts, Alan and the mounted men caught up with the foot-soldiers at Bishop Stortford in the afternoon. The men were in good heart, singing as they marched. They carried only their weapons and a few personal items, usually wrapped in a blanket draped over their shoulders.
After ‘roughing it’ at Stevenage for the first night, the following night was spent in relative comfort at Oxford. Alan received a message from the sheriff requesting a visit the next day to explain why he had brought a small army into the city. He penned a polite note back, declining to attend and saying he and the ‘army’ would be marching west at dawn.
On arriving at Gloucester the following evening Alan was greeted at the city gates by the sheriff of that shire, with a similar query. Clearly a rider had been dispatched from Oxford. As his tired men straggled to a halt behind him, glad to be finished marching for the day, Alan replied briefly, “Reinforcements for William fitzOsbern. Trouble on the Welsh border with raids and so on.”
Alan was a little surprised at how much attention he was drawing, but on reflection would have to agree that if somebody led over 200 armed men into Essex he would have some concerns and want to know where they were going and what they would do when they arrived. “Brand, move the men through. It’s nearly dark and the gates will be closing soon. Get them to their lodgings and get them fed.”
“Does Earl William know you’re coming?” asked the sheriff with annoyance, as the few men he had standing in front of the gate were shouldered aside.
“Possibly, but I’m sure we’ll be welcome when we arrive,” said Alan vaguely. “Now, please excuse me, Sir! I’m tired, dirty, hungry and thirsty. I’ll proceed to my lodgings.” He made a mental note that if he needed to move men around in the future it would be in smaller groups of 20 or 30 at a time, so as not to attract attention.
When the next day they crossed the bridge over the River Wye in the early afternoon, Alan turned the force west along the road leading up the Wye River valley and towards the border instead of proceeding into the city of Hereford.
Near Byford, about two miles east of Staunton, they came across Osmund and three men sitting alongside the road under a tree which was just bursting into leaf. Osmund rose to his feet and walked the few paces to the road where Alan was at the head of his men. “Good afternoon, my lord,” said Osmund, as if the meeting were occurring in Alan’s Hall instead of the wilds of Herefordshire. “The mens’ weapons are in a clearing in the trees just to the north,” here he nodded towards a large stand of trees on the hills by the farm of Mansell Gamage. “There’s provender also. I bought that yesterday in Hereford and brought it here this morning. There are cooked cold meats, beef and swine; bread; cheese; boiled vegetables; fruit and ale. There’s fodder for the horses and a stream with fresh water for man and beast. There are more than enough provisions- although they cost a small fortune!”
“No questions were asked?” queried Alan.
Osmund gave him a look so ‘old-fashioned’ that its bones were bare, which expressed his disapproval. “I purchased from over a dozen different suppliers. I used our own carts. It took all fucking day!” he said sourly.
The men and horses disappeared into the trees. Firm instructions were given that no fires were to be lit. The infantry collected their armour, or in the case of the archers their extra sheaves of arrows, and set up the leather ten-man tents that Alan had provided. Guards and scouts were set for the first time on the expedition. The men ate as darkness gathered before heading to their tents. Alan met with Robert and the three spies who had been surveying the Wye valley on the Welsh side of the border for several months, gathering the information Alan needed. He intended to rest the men and horses all of the next day and to use the light of the full moon to move into position to attack the following night.
He had hardly seemed to close his eyes when Alan woke with his shoulder being shaken. “What the fuck…?” he queried as he sat up with the blanket draped over him falling away.
Brand was bending over him. “The scouts to the north report movement. Thirty or forty men moving towards Yazor on horseback.”
“Shite!” Alan said as his brain snapped into action “Get the men-at-arms awake. There’s no time to put on harness, so we’ll fight without armour. Get the archers and some infantry on the backs of the extra horses- all are to be my men, no fyrdmen.” Alan looked longingly at his rolled up chain-mail hauberk and instead quickly pulled on his padded jacket with sewn-in metal plate inserts, acknowledging that donning mail armour took at least fifteen minutes- which time he didn’t have.
The men were on horse and moving within ten minutes, most of that time taken with putting the tack on the horses. Then they were moving north on horseback between the trees of the forest, the bright light of the full moon making movement relatively easy. After a ride of several minutes they came to Offa’s Dyke. This deep ditch with the spoil piled on the eastern side had been constructed several centuries before by the Saxons to try to prevent Welsh raiding parties moving east. Without maintenance it had fallen into disrepair but it was still a considerable obstacle and the men had to dismount and lead their horses over a section where the ditch and wall had collapsed.