“Nay! I must return to the priory tomorrow as there are many there who require my assistance.”
“Well my thanks go with you, and my prayers of gratitude. Perhaps I can do something to show my appreciation?” asked Alan
The cleric replied, “Well, there’s those medical parchments that you have- several aren’t included in our collection at the priory and I would ask that our librarian be able to copy them. We can also provide you in return with a copy of those tests that we have that are not amongst your collection. I’ll have prayers said for the lady’s recovery at Mass each day at the priory.”
Alan smiled and nodded, more than happy to oblige the cleric’s request.
Alan was standing naked before two buckets of what had been hot, now tepid, water on a side-table in the bedchamber. After a vigorous session of sword practice he was soaping the sweat away and examining several new bruises, preparatory to rinsing himself off. Willa the housemaid was sitting quietly in the corner, supposedly with her eyes demurely lowered to the sewing on her lap but in reality spending much or the time surreptitiously eyeing Alan’s tall, wiry frame with its muscular shoulders and arms and broad hairy chest.
He suddenly felt another person watching him and turned to see a pair of the greenest eyes he had ever seen peeping out over the top of the down quilt on the bed, showing a considerable degree of confusion and concern. Somewhat embarrassed at his semi-tumescent state, he turned away and finished rinsing himself off before drying himself and slipping on first a pair of underpants and then a pair of breeches.
“Sorry about that,” said Alan somewhat sheepishly “But it is my bed-chamber and it’s the warmest place in the whole damn building. There’s a blizzard outside, the washing-house water is frozen solid and there was no way I was going to wash out there! How are you feeling?” he asked in Anglo-Saxon.
After a moment a quiet husky voice answered, “Well enough… To be truthful, I feel terrible. I’m painful all over.”
Alan slipped on a shirt as he approached the bed and took her hand, feeling the pulse in the wrist. “Headache, sore chest and a left leg that feels it is on fire?” he asked in a professional manner. The auburn-haired head gave a small nod. “Not surprising, given your injuries. Now what is your name and where are you from?”
“Anne of Wivenhoe. Who are you? Where am I and what happened to my people?”
Alan sat easily on the edge of the bed. “A nice name,” he commented. “I’m Alan of Thorrington, which is where you are- in my Hall. We came across your party being attacked in the forest by footpads. I’m afraid we were too late to save three of your men. The fourth was sore wounded when we left him at Alresford last night. He’s receiving what attention they can give but I’m doubtful of the outcome. We pray for his recovery.”
“And my maid, Bathhilda?”
“So that is her name? She seemed well enough in body, although much troubled and distressed, when we left. She’d not spoken and seemed in a trance. She had been badly used before we arrived- and the circumstances of her rescue would not have helped. With God’s good grace both she and your servant will recover, although to be honest the servant is in God’s hands.”
Anne went to raise her hand to cross herself and then realised she was naked under the coverlet. “Is this part of your normal courtesy to guests?” she enquired with asperity.
Alan smiled easily. “No. Willa and Synne have been sitting protecting your virtue and reputation. You had bled badly and your clothes were ruined, although you may be able to salvage something from your fur-lined cloak. We had to cut off your clothing when we treated you.”
“You? You treated me?” asked Anne gently feeling first her ribs, then her bandaged thigh before touching the top of the splint that held her leg straight.
“It was mainly Brother Aldwyn from Colchester Priory. Myself and the serving women just helped. Now I presume that you’ll need to use the necessarium? Willa, if you could give Lady Anne a shift to wear and her cloak, I’ll fetch thegn Alric and we’ll carry you to the facility. Willa, bring a stool also.”
Alan pulled on socks and boots and a warm woollen jerkin, sitting on the bed to do so, before striding to the door and calling for Alric. Turning back he caught a brief glimpse of breasts as the dress was pulled over Anne’s head. Pulling back the coverlet he instructed, “Roll to your right. I’ll support your left leg, then roll into a sitting position. Put your right foot to the floor. Willa, some slippers please. Thank you. Alric if you could take Lady Anne’s right arm, and as she stands we’ll cross hands under her buttocks and lift.”
In an aside to Anne Alan commented, “I asked for Alric because he’s so old that a flash of a lady’s thigh is unlikely to cause him irresistible urges, and he’s noble enough to make me control my youthful urges. Also he’s about my height, which makes carrying easier.” A few minutes later they were in the bitter cold outside. “The privy is too narrow for us to carry you in, so we’ll put you down standing facing in the correct direction and I’ll help you hop backwards. God, a frozen latrine stinks something awful! My new residence will be much better when I eventually get it built, if it doesn’t bankrupt me first. Now, I’ll retire and Willa will help you sit, place the stool for your leg and then assist you to clean yourself. Alric and I will be outside.”
Standing with their backs to the privy house, breath steaming in the cold air and rubbing their hands together for warmth Alric commented, “A very nice souvenir for you.”
“That is Lady Anne of Wivenhoe. Perhaps a little more than a souvenir,” replied Alan.
Alric nodded gravely. “I have heard of her. She has a large estate and is recently widowed. Her husband, about my age, was Aelfric. He marched north with King Harold to Stamford Bridge.”
Alan inclined his head. “And like many others, did not march back. A common enough story with three major battles within six months. How many dead altogether? Six thousand, eight thousand? And as usual they would have been the best the country had to offer.”
Alric pursed his lips. “Perhaps the events before Hastings were beneficial to you Normans. However, not all of the fallen were good and noble. From what I heard the people of Wivenhoe are well rid of Aelfric. A hard-drinking man- nothing wrong with that, we all do that. But with a violent and abusive temper when drunk. Lady Anne had been married to him for a couple of years and may not be lamenting his loss over much. I know that if I was younger and single, I would be pressing my suit for such a desirable catch. My wife Hilda, of course, would cut my balls off if she thought I was even considering it.” he concluded with the wry smile of a happily married man.
“Isn’t Hilda fifteen years younger than you?” asked Alan with a smile.
“And I feel it every morning when I get up after trying to satisfy her,” agreed Alric with a smirk. “How are you and Edyth getting on?”
“Well enough,” replied Alan shortly. Alric nodded and walked a few paces away before unbuttoning his trousers and relieving himself in a stream of steaming liquid against a fence-post. As the whole Hundred knew, Edyth was a very good looking young woman, reputed to be a handful between the sheets, but as a miller’s daughter and as brainless as a brick she was hardly suitable marriage material for a wealthy lord. Nonetheless, she was a suitable plaything for any man.
A gentle call from within the privy from Willa and Alan returned to open the door, helped Anne hop out and then he and Alric carried her inside back to the bedroom. They carefully sat her on the bed and Alan instructed her how to roll into a comfortable position while supporting the splinted leg. Extra pillows were placed to allow Anne to sit semi-reclined.