CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Thorrington October 1069
Late in the evening two days later, on Thursday the 29th October, Alan and Leof rode through the village of Thorrington. The heavy rain and cold wind was keeping most folk indoors, but the few men and women they saw shouted a warm welcome. The blacksmith paused in his labour at the anvil near the open door of the smithy to gave an abrupt wave of welcome and sent one of his young sons, a lad of about seven, scurrying down the muddy track to the New Hall to announce their home-coming. The rounceys walked with a plodding gait, heads down and exhaustedly lifting each foot from the sticky soil. They’d ridden 81 miles from Lincoln to Huntingdon the day before, spending the night in a flea-ridden tavern before riding a similar distance from Huntingdon that day.
The exhausted pace of the horses meant that the lad had plenty of time to reach the New Hall ahead of them. Although absent a motte, the fortified structure of the New Hall dominated the east side of the village, with a ten-foot high curtain-wall embankment topped by a further ten foot high wooden palisade. Six wooden towers rose a further ten feet, each with a large piece of oiled canvas covering the shape of a ballista. There were four men on guard, one in each of the corner towers of the square fortifications. The nearest two each raised a hand in greeting, while the other two ostentatiously kept their backs to Alan, ensuring he could see that they were scanning their area of responsibility. The high-pitched roofs of the three double-storey buildings in the complex, the Hall and two barracks blocks, could just be seen peeping over the curtain-wall. Alan was happy to see wood smoke rising both from the chimney of the Hall and from the location of the not yet visible kitchen building, ensuring a genuinely warm welcome.
They rode across the drawbridge over the ten-foot deep ditch and through the gateway and the rest of the complex came into view; large stables, the armoury building with its attached covered weapons-practice area, the granary, the barn where the hay was stored and the storehouses and workshops, including the shed where Alan whiled away hours in constructing ever more efficient siege weapons.
The servants hurried out of the Hall to welcome their lord home, although Alan was glad to see that Anne had not come outside. Alan waved a hand gloved in soggy leather and shouted, “Thank you all! Please get inside out of the rain, except for a couple of grooms to take the horses. The poor bastards are just about all in.” After stiffly dismounting and handing the reins to a stable boy, Alan turned in time to catch Leof as he collapsed with leg-cramps. “You’ve got to get used to riding a horse, boy! It’s a damn sight better than walking. Go and sit by the fire and I’ll get Otha to get you some dry clothes. When I’ve finished with the hot-tub, have a long soak and get one of the younger girls to massage your legs. I’ve noticed Inga has been making eyes at you, so I’m sure she’ll help out if you offer to share the tub. Which reminds me, we need to get you a room of your own in the barracks. You’re old enough that you can’t keep on sleeping in the Hall, with no damned privacy. I’ll mention it to Steward Faran.”
After giving Leof a hand to the door and then letting somebody else take him over- Alan gave a chuckle when he saw it was Inga- he shed his water-logged cloak and gloves and approached the fire gratefully. “Some mulled wine, for the love of God!” shouted Alan to Otha. “And dry clothes for Leof. And get the hot-tub ready. And I want some damned food!” Just then he saw the diminutive shape of his wife sitting in a high-backed armchair near the fire and could see why she hadn’t hurried outside. As she struggled to her feet, using the arms on the chair for leverage, Alan notice that not only had she a grossly swollen belly, but that the baby had dropped. “Sweet Jesu! It’s good to see you again!” he said after he helped her to rise and caught her in a hug, her head barely coming up to his chest. “It appears you’re carrying a giant and that he’s due any moment! How do you get up the stairs to the bedchamber?”
“With difficulty, my lord- slowly and with assistance. Using a chamber pot is an inconvenience, but better than a journey downstairs to the privy when I’m being kicked in the bladder! And I pray to God that it is a boy. Dear God, Alan! It’s good to see you again! Have you finished your work up north? Why ride in and not bring the ships home?”
Alan put a finger on her lips. “We’ll talk about that later,” he said. “For now, let me get warm, some dry clothes, have some hot food and drink and we can take a soak in the hot-tub. Me for my sore legs and you no doubt for a sore back.”
After a meal of herbed mutton stew and fresh bread which the hungry travelers wolfed down ravenously, Alan and Anne retired to the hot-tub to soak. The tub was an unusual creation and was comprised part of a tun barrel about three feet high and five feet across, sawn horizontally, with two small wooden benches of differing heights bolted to the inside to accommodate people of different sizes. The barrel was set slightly above the ground to allow periodic drainage and cleaning. There was a set of steps on the outside and a short ladder of four steps on the inside to assist people entering or leaving. The water, slightly less than the hundred gallon capacity of the part-barrel as it wasn’t filled to the brim, flowed through the water supply system Alan had created which drew water from a spring on a nearby low hill along pipes and into the New Hall complex. This also supplied the kitchen, stables, filled a cistern that would be able to be used in times of siege and also flushed out the latrines that Alan had built in the Roman style from plans he’d seen on an ancient scroll. The bath water was heated by passing through lead pipes above and behind the fire in the adjoining kitchen and furnace rooms and then flowed into one side of the tub in a steady but small stream. Excess water was extracted by a pipe on the other side of the barrel and flowed out as waste water, at about one gallon a minute.
Anne arrived shortly afterwards, wearing a thick robe and leather-soled slippers against the ten-pace journey along the paved path of the covered walkway between the Hall and the building that combined the kitchen, the bathing room and the furnace used to heat the air that passed through the hypocaust heating system used to warm the Hall. Anne had her gown and slippers removed by two of her maids, Synne and Esme, and stepped naked onto the large unbleached rug made of sheepskins that covered the floor near the bath steps. She was assisted up the outside steps by her maids and Alan rose to assist her down the steps on the inside, his nakedness emphasised by a giant erection that drew admiring glances from the two maids and a small smile from Anne, who reached to give the rampant member a squeeze as she turned and sat down on a ledge in the tub about six inches from the bottom.
Synne and Esme retired to the adjoining kitchen to await a call for their assistance and Alan settled back into the hot-tub, sitting on the carefully sanded floor next to Anne, so that his face was nearly level with Anne’s breasts, the nipples of which were bobbing on the surface as the breasts were supported by the water. Anne gave a sigh and rubbed her back, before returning one hand to stroke the underside of Alan’s member. “It appears you’ve been a long time without feminine company, which is just as well!” she commented.
“The mermaids are all well and good,” he replied, “but being fish from the waist down…” After several minutes of ministrations he gave a sigh of relief.
“And how was the north?” asked Anne, now that one job was out of the way.
“It was a strange existence, really. We found a cave that’s nice and dry and cosy and set up quarters there. The cave keeps the weather off and hides us. We’ve set it up with pots and pans for the cooking fire, straw mattresses and the like. The previous occupants had carved sleeping places and chairs out of the soft chalk. It’s a pirate’s cave. There’s fresh water from where a nearby spring runs down the cliff face. The food’s good. We catch some fish and have lobster pots in the sea outside the cave, and bring in fresh and preserved meat, vegetables, fruit and bread every time we voyage to Hartlepool or York. And ale by the barrel- everybody knows that drinking water is bad for you.