Here he threw a sheathed sword to Idwallon, who caught it. After a brief look the Welshman’s already strained face blanched. “That is the first part. The second is the smoke rising over there at Haye-on-Wye,” Alan indicted with a jerk of his head before looking up at the rising sun and then continuing, “And also the smoke which you will shortly see rising from the north-west, where as we speak most of my men will be sacking Builth Wells. In a few minutes my men will enter your village and strip it bare. I see all your people are in the Hall. As long as you and they stay there until I say they may leave, which will probably be in two days, they will not be interfered with. This time. I give the people of your village more consideration than your men showed my people either last summer, or those at Norton Canon a few weeks ago. This time. My local vassal, Robert of Staunton, who is currently visiting Builth Wells, wanted to be less generous and to mutilate every man caught in Brycheiniog by removing his index finger so he could not hold sword or bow. I said no. This time.
“This time we are stripping the Wye Valley clean, the proceeds of which will be given to those in my villages in Staple Hundred which have suffered the depredations of your people. If there is a next time, we will totally depopulate the Valley and kill or enslave every man, woman and child. This… little exercise… is a friendly warning. I know that you Welsh take pride in your raiding and see it as youthful fun, a manly activity. Your land is poor and your men gain some profit from raiding their richer neighbors.”
Alan pointed at the sword held by Idwallon. “It is an activity with some risk both to those involved and to their kin, and now has no profit. Ah! My men have arrived at Builth Wells.” Alan pointed to a thick cloud of smoke starting to rise in the distance to the north-west. “If Brycheiniog still had a king, I would be making that point to him, rather than the lord of Cantref Selyf. Your men are skilled raiders, and the local English tell me the Welsh are renowned for their ability to catch their enemy in ambush.” Alan paused, pointed at the squadron of Wolves sitting silent and menacing on their horses, before continuing, “I don’t think you would want them to visit again, next time with all restraint removed. Sow the wind and you will reap the whirlwind. Let not one of your men set foot in Staple Hundred. Also, every captive taken from England is to be delivered here within the hour.”
“The village?” asked the old man next to Idwallon.
Alan looked calculatingly at the ramshackle collection of huts, cottages and sheds. “Your people are poor enough. I’ll instruct my men not to torch the village. This time.”
“And my son?” asked Idwallon, looking at the sword in his hand.
“Lies in a ditch near Yazor,” replied Alan.
“What of Twedr ap Rhein?” queried the old adviser.
“The son of your brother Rhein ap Grfydd, lord of Cantref Twedos?” asked Alan addressing Idwallon. “I know not. If he’s not in the ditch, he’ll shortly be arriving at York on his way to Northumbria to be sold as a slave. Nobody of that name introduced themselves after they were captured.”
Idwallon asked, “My son’s body. May I recover it?”
Alan gave him a piercing look and then nodded. “I’ll give you that courtesy. Also that of Twedr ap Rhein, if he’s also in the ditch. Provide two unarmed men who knew them both and I’ll have them escorted to Yazor and then back to the border.”
“And the other bodies?” asked the adviser.
“Don’t push me too far, old man,” replied Alan. “I’m showing some courtesy to the lords of Selyf and Tewdos. The others stay in the ditch to be eaten by the crows as the carrion they are. If there is a next time, they’ll be joined in hell by hundreds of their countrymen. You may leave.”
Every horse, cow, pig and sheep in the village and from the surrounding hills was gathered up and driven down the valley towards Staunton, together with the bags of flour from the granary. Alan left some sacks of grain seedstock, and the village had sprouting crops in its few fields. Fourteen English who had been held captive as slaves, five men and nine women, were received, questioned and escorted away towards home. The men ate the village chickens as they waited to hear that the force sent to Builth Wells had successfully withdrawn, which took two days as the animals and wagons seized from that village were driven down the winding and often overgrown and marshy valley. The Welsh sat quietly behind the wooden palisade, offering no resistance and no offence. The English set a strong guard and slept in the cottages vacated by the Welsh.
Alan and the thegns hunted the next day in the overgrown valley with its ancient trees and tangled thickets, bringing back deer, boar and wild cattle for the men to eat. No alcohol was permitted and the few barrels of ale or mead in the village had been broached and the contents spilled on their arrival. Rigorous discipline was imposed, something that some of the Anglo-Saxons, particularly the thegns and their retainers, had some difficulty in accepting.
Alan noted the very different nature of the countryside. On the Welsh side of the border the land was very hilly and in places mountainous. The hills were bare and barren with poor soil, but supported large herds of cattle and to a lesser extent flocks of sheep, now all on their way east. The river valleys were fertile, cut deep and wide, but farmed only half-heartedly. The Welsh preferred a semi-nomadic life in the hills and looked with contempt at those who farmed the valleys. The nature of the land and their preferred lifestyle condemned the Welsh to a relatively poor existence.
When Robert rode in to advise that the last of the carts and animals from Builth Wells were nearing the border, Alan withdrew his men and they cautiously marched north-east towards England. The valley ahead was well-scouted and men had been placed to guard all likely areas of ambush.
Once back over the border and in England Alan, Robert and the thegns rode ahead to Staunton. They passed herds of cattle, sheep and pigs being driven along the road, riding around each to avoid dispersing them and causing unnecessary work for the herders.
When they arrived Staunton had the air of a giant livestock market. The villagers of Norton Canon, Mannington and Byford, which together with Staunton had been devastated by the Welsh invasion of the previous summer, were collecting the livestock allocated to their villages. Some of the livestock were probably being taken back home after being stolen by the Welsh the previous year.
Most important were the oxen and seedstock. It was getting late in the season, but the villagers would now be able to plough and sow their crops, which most villages had not yet been able to do as the Welsh had the previous summer taken or destroyed their oxen and seed. Alan was also providing some relief for nearby Bobury, Yarsop, Yazor, Bishopstone and Bridge Sollers, even though they were not his villages, and had suggested that the oxen and ploughs from his villages be loaned to those villages when their initial work was done at home.
After a rest of two days Alan began to dispatch his men back to Essex in groups of twenty or so, again with the heavy equipment and armour being transported by wagon to make the march easier. The fyrdmen and thegns should be back attending to their spring farming duties and Alan knew it is never good to have a large number of armed men sitting idle. Each group was led by a suitable sergeant who carried funds to cover food and accommodation on the more leisurely march east. The men were told they were expected to be home within five days.
Alan spent several more days with Robert, sorting out details and checking progress with his villages, before intending to ride east with Osmund and the thirty Wolves. Unfortunately, before he left he received an instruction from William fitzOsbern, the former co-Regent, that Alan attend on him at Hereford as soon as possible. Alan swore long and loud, while recognising his temper was getting worse. He had hoped to slip into Herefordshire and back out without being noticed. Had fitzOsbern been at the northern end of his fiefdom at Leominster, twelve miles north of Hereford, he may well have achieved it- but not when the earl was at Hereford, which lay right in Alan’s path.