“Tell us how you saved the king’s life,” urged Geoffrey.
Alan waved a hand, holding a chicken drumstick, in negation. “No. Somebody else can do that. I don’t blow my own horn. I just happened to be standing in the right place at the right time and hit a few people with a sword. I’d have done the same for anybody, as would you. In fact it wasn’t until he extracted himself from under the horse, with some assistance from others standing near, that I even knew it was the duke.”
After the visitors had departed Alan commented to Anne, “That was surprisingly… genial, considering past problems.”
“They’re coming to realise who is important and that pursuing Bishop William’s political campaign against you may not be in their own best long-term interests,” replied Anne.
In the early hours of Tuesday 2nd of November, All Souls’ Day, Anne nudged a snoring Alan in the ribs. “It’s time,” she announced calmly.
Alan grunted and came awake with a start. “Why is it always in the middle of the night? Is it because the baby’s bored because you’re lying there doing nothing? Synne! Rouse the household! My lady’s time is come! Send somebody to fetch that incompetent old bat of a midwife from the village!”
Because of the problems associated with Anne’s first labour, on this occasion there was no question of his being excluded from the birthing-room. What was apparently a well-practiced procedure was followed by the midwife, encouraging Anne to stand and walk about slowly for several hours until she was fully dilated, when she was instructed to lie down with legs apart and to push and breathe deeply with each contraction. The baby’s head crowned and over the next hour was satisfactorily delivered with no complications and no unusual blood loss. The midwife tied off the umbilical cord, turned the child upside down and gave it a slap on the bottom to make it cry, sucking air into the lungs. As she gave the child a quick wipe with a clean wet cloth she commented, “Congratulations on the birth of your son, my lord and my lady. A fine strapping lad of about seven pounds,” before handing the now swaddled bundle to his mother.
The placenta was delivered without tearing and without problems about fifteen minutes later. The midwife was dismissed and left carrying a small but heavy purse of silver for her efforts. It was nearly dawn and Alan went into the next room to collect their daughter Juliana from her nursery and to introduce her to her brother.
After the bed linen had been changed and all except Synne dismissed, Alan lay on the bed next to Anne, with little Juliana lying between them and gurgling happily while her brother took suck. The bells of the village church began to toll, not in celebration of the event, but for the morning service of All Souls. Alan hoped that the birthday would not prove inauspicious, being the day of the Feast of the Dead when the village folk would attend at the graveyard to pray at the graves of departed relatives and leave food at their tables for them.
“I didn’t want to tempt providence and discuss names before,” commented Anne. “But do you have any thoughts on a name for our son and heir?”
“I thought a name that is common in both English and French,” replied Alan. “Certainly not William, Roger or Robert. The Lord knows that there are enough men of those names about! I thought either Gilbert or Simon”
“Hmm…” mused Anne. “What do they mean?”
“Gilbert means ‘Trusted’ in English, and ‘Bright lad’ in French. Simon means ‘Listens’.”
“Well, I’d hope that our son would have all those qualities. Let’s think about it for a day or so. I’d thought perhaps Gerald, which means ‘Ruling Spear’, but all three are good names. Who do we ask to be god-parents? I’d though Roger and Alice Bigod again, and possibly my brother Garrett.”
“I agree with Roger and Alice. They would care for him, and as sheriff of Sussex Roger is a very influential man. Garrett would certainly care and love him, but… perhaps somebody with greater influence would assist him later in life. Perhaps thegn Thorkel of Arden, who owns enough land as tenant-in-chief directly from the king to qualify as an earl and is sheriff of Warwickshire.”
“Thorkel is a nice, trustworthy and God-fearing man, and not too old,” agreed Anne. “Again, let’s think on it. In the meantime let’s all get some sleep. Oh! Make sure we get a better wet-nurse this time, even if we have to get somebody all the way from Ipswich. I’m not going to put up with such a dirty, surly and bad-mannered bitch as last time. It doesn’t matter how long it takes. I’ll give suck in the meantime!”
Over the next few days a suitable young girl from Dovercourt, who had lost her own child, was chosen by Anne as the child’s wet-nurse and by mutual agreement the name ‘Simon’ was chosen. Messages were dispatched asking Roger and Thorkell to be godfathers. With the military campaigns underway it was likely to be some time before all the required people could gather for the baptism.
Being November the activity associated with harvest was over and the autumn ploughing complete. The harvested grain was stored safely in the granaries and the sacks of salt from the salt-pans was in the salt-houses awaiting later processing and sale. Fruit and vegetables had been gathered and either stored in barrels or preserved by drying, pickling or made into jams. The small barrels of honey from those villages with bee-hives had been dispatched to the towns for sale. The annual sale or killing of animals that would not be able to be cared for by the villagers over the winter had commenced. Cattle and swine were driven off to the market at Colchester. The small sheep, little more than knee high, were less susceptible to the rigours of winter due to their wool fleeces and would require only the provision of hay over the winter. Beef and pork was smoked, salt-cured or pickled for use over the winter, either as joints stored in barrels or as sausages hung from the roofs of store-rooms to keep the rats at bay.
Anne ensured that the poultry pens belonging to the Hall, containing chickens, geese, ducks, quail and pheasant, were ready to protect their inhabitants both from the winter weather and from hungry foxes. Firewood was cut and stacked under cover to provide winter warmth. Acorns were gathered from the forests to ensure that the swine in their pens in all the villages for the winter could use the bounty of the forest before it disappeared under snow. The fisherman plied their nets in the shallow waters of the Colne estuary with any surplus catch being dried, smoked or salted for the winter.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The North November 1069
A week later a summons was received from Robert Count of Eu for the knights and men-at-arms of Essex to march north to Lincoln. There he was amassing a force to retake York, while not taking men who were desperately needed in the south-west and west of the kingdom.
Alan was annoyed to receive the summons. He already had eighteen of his own men and two ships in the king’s service, and had negotiated freedom from the requirement to provide feudal levies. He was determined to leave a strong force to protect Tendring Hundred and took with him just one squadron of ten of the Wolves led by Edric, who as usual had his one-handed battle-axe hanging from his saddle pommel. Pack-horses carried weapons, armour, tents, pots and pans and a week of supplies for man and beast. Robert fitzWymarc’s man Gerard de Cholet from Elmstead with several men rode separately from Alan’s party. Engelric’s man Leax of Birch Hall and his half-dozen English retainers chose to ride with Alan’s men.
They rode west through the flat and almost featureless countryside to Cambridge, braving the cold and blustery weather, before turning north and joining the Roman Ermine Road. Swamps and fenlands were on their right to the east as they rode through long passages of wasteland interspersed with occasional villages and cultivated land. Other parties of armed men, both on horse and on foot, were moving north, along with slow-moving ox-drawn wagons carrying supplies and weapons.