“Well, a good day’s hunting!” said Alan to the ealdormen as the crowd dispersed. “Edwold, I have to go to Colchester tomorrow to collect a new hauberk being made for me. Keep the two felons here tonight and I’ll take them to the sheriff tomorrow.”
Edwold was disappointed that Alan remembered he wanted the felons’ heads, which meant that he couldn’t leave the bodies hanging on the tree as a salutary lesson.
With the journey slowed by the cart it was nearly dark when they arrived back at Alan’s Hall in Thorrington. Alan had Anne carried out to the cart. As she looked at the pile of heads in the back of the cart a savage gleam came to her eyes. “How many?”
“Fourteen, including the seven we killed when we rescued you. We left another three dead in the forest and two will go to the sheriff for his decision,” replied Alan.
“And that is all of them?” she insisted.
“Every last motherless son,” said Alan with conviction.
Anne stood on tip-toe to kiss Alan’s stubbled cheek and said, “That is the best present anybody has ever given me.”
‘God save me from vengeful women’ thought Alan before replying, considering Anne’s apparent affinity with Boadicea. “The Lord said, ‘Justice is mine’. But I believe that we need to give him a hand whenever we can,” he said. “What do you want to do with them?”
“Put them on stakes at the northern entrance to the forest. Perhaps that will deter others,” instructed Anne.
Back in the Hall Alan had a chair and foot-stool set up for Anne by the fire and a substantial meal prepared. It had been a long day.
“I’ll be going to Colchester tomorrow and will pass through Wivenhoe. Is there anything that you want bringing back?” asked Alan. Anne rattled off a short list of clothes and the like. “You’ve been hereabouts for several years,” continued Alan.” Do you know anybody who may be able to act as a scribe for me? I have the Hundred court once a month and I can’t conduct the court and take notes at the same time. Preferably somebody with some knowledge of West Saxon law, but at least able to read English. I inherited copies of the Dooms setting out the local laws when I took over my fief, but I can barely read English.”
Anne pondered for a few moments and then said, “There’s a man who teaches in the priory school at Colchester. Osmund is his name. He’s young, about twenty,” Anne smiled as both she and Alan were younger than that. “His father was a priest, so he learned his letters while young. He wasn’t accepted for the priesthood himself because he asks too many difficult questions.”
Alan nodded his thanks and then asked. “Given that you can read, would you like me to borrow some books from the priory library?”
“You can do that?” queried Anne.
“As long as it’s nothing too fancy. No illuminations or anything like that. I’m sure I can talk my way around the librarian. English? Latin? Greek?”
“No Greek,” replied Anne. “My scholarship didn’t stretch that far. Yes, certainly anything to read would help pass the time, as does being allowed to come out of isolation in the bedchamber and spend time in the Hall.”
“Your condition is improving and you’re regaining your strength. You lost a lot of blood. If you wait just a moment, I have something that might interest you,” said Alan, carefully clearing the table near Anne and wiping it clean, before disappearing into the Solar. He was back in a couple of minutes carrying a large and very thick leather-bound book, which he placed on the table. “This is only on loan to pass the time,” he said as Anne opened the cover.
“A Bible!” she exclaimed. “A real Latin Bible! Not even our parish church has one!” She turned the pages carefully. “It’s beautiful!”
“Thank you,” replied Alan. “That’s actually half of the Bible, the other half is still in the Solar. I hope you can read it. My writing improved as I went along.”
“You wrote it yourself?” said Anne in a tone of disbelief.
“I copied it. It was my writing exercise for four hours a day over four years. I finished it just before I left the monastery at Rouen. It’s plain and un-illuminated, but a fair copy nonetheless. I read sections myself most evenings, or when I am troubled. I had it brought over from Normandy with some of my other things after I took up residence. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my lady, I’ve been up since three this morning and walked and ridden many miles. I think that it’s time I retired for the night. When you’re ready, call Kendrick for assistance- don’t try to get back to the bedchamber by yourself. And take the Bible with you.”
As she idly turned the pages Anne considered her host. A warrior and leader of men. Undoubtedly brave, yet literate, thoughtful, careful of his obligations and lacking in arrogance. His treatment of even his slaves showed care and common courtesy. Judging by the brief look that she had so far had at the books of account, he was a wealthy man who owned or controlled much of Tendring Hundred. And he was a good-looking young man. All in all, the man was a most unusual combination.
Alan and his small party of four Saxon men-at-arms set out on horseback for Colchester early next morning, with two additional horses, being the price that Alan had agreed with the armourer for his new hauberk. They collected the outlaws Linn and Pearce, who rode the spare horses- in Linn’s case poorly as he had never been trained to ride.
As they rode through the southern gate of the old stone Roman wall that surrounded the town, kept in reasonable condition because the town was on the River Colne and over the years had been subject to frequent attack from raiders from the Eastern Seas, the priory bell was tolling for Nones at mid-afternoon. They stopped briefly at an inn, ‘The Three Hounds’, which was nearly in the middle of the town. Alan to dropped off his overnight bag and booked a room- his men would sleep by the fire in the Commons- and arranged for the horses to be stabled before he took the short walk to the newly-built castle to see the sheriff. They soon found that Robert fitzWymarc was away and not expected back for a week, but his deputy Roger saw them promptly enough and heard Pearce’s story with a cynicism similar to that of Alan himself.
“What do you think, Sir Alan?” asked the Deputy-Sheriff.
“I don’t know,” replied Alan thoughtfully, sipping at a cup of wine with which he had been provided. “The story doesn’t get any more convincing the second time you hear it. Still, there may be truth in it and it may be worth paying attention to what he says. I think it’s just a story to save his life- but it’s a very good story. Whether it’s good enough for him to avoid getting his neck stretched, I’ll leave to Sir Robert. The boy I’d just let go, but a week in the cells awaiting the sheriff’s pleasure won’t do him any harm. I’d appreciate it if you let me know what happens eventually.” With an abrupt change of topic Alan continued, “Has the warrant arrived as to when the campaign to occupy the north is intended to start, when we muster and where?”
“Yes indeed. Word was received several days ago. We muster a week after the Feast of the Annunciation, on the 2nd of April at Alan of Brittany’s castle in Cambridge. That’s in three weeks time. You’ll be aware that King William intends to return to Normandy shortly? No? Well, he’ll be leaving any day and his half-brother Bishop Odo of Bayeux and his cousin William fitzOsbern will be left in charge here in England.