“Today I’ll have Brother Wacian give a running commentary in French and translating question and answer for those cases involving your men. Osmund will write the transcript, and as usual this will be in Latin. He writes quicker than Brother Wacian. The judgments will be the decision of the three judges and will be handed down by me, in the case of your men both in English and French. There is a right of appeal to the Curia Regis, the King’s Council, and the transcripts are forwarded to the Royal High Chancellor as a matter of course each Quarter. If you wish to be involved in the administration of justice in this Hundred, as is both your right and responsibility, I suggest you learn English well and quickly. Now to the first case.”
Gautier was hauled before the court in chains. Not being a member of a frithbogh who would ensure his attendance, he’d been kept in custody and both his person and clothes were dirty. Initially nervous, he apparently drew heart from the presence of four lords clearly of French appearance and a dozen or so of their retainers.
Alan began, pausing after every sentence to allow translation. “Gautier of Little Clacton you are charged with the rape of a maid named Mildreth of Weeley, at Weeley on the morning of Saturday the 8th of September, the day of the Feast of the Birth of the Blessed Virgin Mary. Do you understand the charge, and if so, how do you plead?”
“Not guilty,” said Gautier in a firm voice.
“Remember you are on oath to tell the truth. This is a serious oath and if you or any of the others breach it, they are liable both to a fine and to a sentence never to shriven or to be buried in hallowed ground on their death. That means to be condemned to everlasting damnation.
“Do you agree that you were at Weeley at that time on that date? Yes. And were you there on your lord’s business? No. It is three miles from Little Clacton to Weeley, a long way to walk if you have no business there. Can you explain why you went? You just wanted to stretch your legs, you say.” Alan was translating the replies from French back into English for his fellow-judges and those in court, being careful not to place words in Gautier’s mouth. “What are your duties at Little Clacton? Lord Geoffrey’s personal servant. Stand down for a while and we will examine the complainant.”
The girl Mildreth was about fifteen years of age and quite comely, tall and blonde. She was a cheorl, a freewoman, and the daughter of Holt the cheorl who owned the dairy at Weeley. Late in the morning she had just returned to the dairy from an errand, when a man she identified as Gautier followed her in the door and immediately assaulted her, exposing her bosom, ripping her dress and after throwing her to the floor took her by force.
Her cries for assistance had immediately brought the two other girls who worked at the dairy, but they were unable to help. After several minutes a man of the village, Tobrytan, had intervened and the attacker ran off with Tobrytan raising the Hue and Cry while the other girls cared for Mildreth and took her home. She recognised Gautier and with satisfaction explained she had marked him by scratching his face with her long finger-nails. The partly healed scratches could still be seen on Gautier’s face and Alan commented that when he and the other two judges had examined the defendant a week previously the scratches had been fresh and deep. Mildreth was allowed to stand down and Gautier recalled.
“Now, before we call as witnesses the two girls in the dairy and Tobrytan the carter, and then have people swear oaths as to their reliability, do you have anything you want to say, perhaps an admission or explanation of some sort?” asked Alan.
After this was translated, Gautier suddenly spouted forth in French in what appeared to be a mixture of anger and confusion. “What is the problem? Yes, I gave the stupid whore the benefit of my ‘sword’. That’s all these English bitches are good for with their snobbish ways and failure to recognise their betters.”
“And did she consent?” asked Harold, looking at the scratches on Gautier’s face.
“I guess not,” replied Gautier, fingering the scratches. “But the bitch enjoyed every moment of having a real man for a change.”
“In the light of the defendant’s own admissions, which have been written into the transcript, I don’t see any need to continue further,” said Alan with a look at Harold and Leofson. “One question, Geoffrey de Rouen, did this man come to you that day and tell you he was being sought by the Hue and Cry?”
“Yes,” said Geoffrey from his seat near the front of the court.
“And you did nothing to bring this to the attention of the authorities?”
“No.”
“I’ll overlook that this one time, because perhaps you don’t know the laws of the land- which is a pretty poor excuse as they are the same in France. In future any failure to assist the authorities in their investigation of a crime will be punished,” said Alan. Geoffrey turned bright red with anger at this public rebuke before what he saw as his social inferiors.
Alan and the other judges retired to the backroom for a quick talk and pint of ale. When they returned Alan continued, “Gautier of Little Clacton, you have made admissions to this court that clearly show your guilt. If you were an Englishman, I would order compensation of 100 shillings. But you are not. You are a Norman, and the penalty imposed on you is that of Norman law. Let there be no misunderstanding by the Normans of this land that they can do what they want, when they want and to whom they want.
“The Norman law specifies that for the offence of rape you should hang. But King William, in his wisdom, has decreed that no Hundred court can order the death by hanging or other means of any Norman.” Here Gautier and the other Normans began smirking. “So I sentence you to the most severe penalty left to me by King William’s law. You shall have both eyes put out with a hot poker and you shall be castrated. After that you will be delivered back up to your lord’s manor at Little Clacton for him to care for you as he wishes.”
The smirks promptly disappeared from the faces of the Normans and Geoffrey strode up to the judge’s table, thumping his hand down. “You can’t do that. The man is a Norman, and I claim the right to protect him.”
“Grow up Geoffrey! A man’s nationality gives him no protection. Do you think you can ride down the main street of Little Clacton killing every Englishman you see and raping every woman? These are free men and women and they have legal rights just as do you and I, and your Norman retainers. The fact that you and your men are in a foreign country in some position of power gives you and them no more rights than if you were at home in France. Indeed less rights, as here nearly everybody is a freeman or freewoman, and not a villein or serf. Stop thinking that just because the Bishop gave you a fief that you are God and your men are Archangels. I will apply the law impartially here to every man and woman, irrespective of where they come from and what language they speak. By the way, I’d suggest that you stop beating the geburs in your village, because if one makes a formal complaint you’re likely to be spending time in the stocks. I’m sure you will find the next case of interest.”
After an adjournment the St Osyth assault case began. The case continued tri-lingually, with first Edward of St Osyth being sworn, stating that he had issues of land ownership with his neighbour Albyn of Bruges. He had sent his steward Slean to discuss these with Albyn’s steward Wyman, and if necessary with Albyn himself. Slean had returned on foot, badly beaten with two front teeth knocked out, bad facial bruising to the left of the head, bruising to the chest and ribs and two broken ribs. Slean gave evidence that he had delivered his master’s message to both Wyman and Albyn together, and that he was- apparently at Albyn’s instructions, although he could not speak French to confirm this- beaten and then thrown out of the door. Were there any other witnesses? Lord Albyn himself, his men Arnaud and Josselin, who all laughed during the beating, and several English servants.