[Norman Conquest 02] Winter of Discontent (48 page)

The Danes
boarded
their remaining ships with some difficulty, the press of men aboard making it difficult for the rowers to use the
oars
properly as they backed into Barfleet Creek, the
n
departed south to navigate through the sandbars at the mouth of the estuary. Several mounted scouts followed along the shoreline to ensure that the Danish fleet then headed east
for home to lick their wounds.

The English were busy tidying the battlefield, stripping and throwing the Danish corpses into several of the defensive ditches that had been dug and transporting the more seriously injured of the English and the few lightly wounded Danes back to Thorrington. The three dozen or so seriously injured Danes were finished with a knife across the throat or between the ribs. The villagers from Brightlingsea were drifting back from the swamps and trees to the north where many had fled the night before when the Danes had attacked, saving nothing but their lives and the clothes
in which
they stood.

Alan rode the short distance into Brightlingsea, noting that eleven buildings, houses and barns, had been burnt, with wisps of grey smoke still drifting
in the air
. Most of the livestock was gone, eaten by the Danes, but a few escaped chickens and pigs rooted amongst the vegetable gardens. The villagers gathered up their dead and placed them outside the small wooden church, over a dozen pathetic bundles, mainly men but with two women and several children and youths. Three men hanging from a make-shift gallows had not yet been cut down and Alan saw that one of these was Edsel the Reeve,
the other two presumably being e
lders of the village.
His mouth gave a twitch of a smile.

A few injured were being cared
for out of the
still falling
rain inside the
Moot-Hall
and a number of women were sitting, some alone and some with others, with the frightened vacant expressions of the abused. Brother Wacian
,
the priest
from Thorrington,
was organising the survivors into groups to attend to necessary tasks. The village had been plundered of what few valuables the people had and most of its food, but the Danes had not wreaked total devastation
-
perhaps because they had intended to use it for shelter for another night. As Alan rode
past
the villagers stared at him apathetically. Even as an ox wagon arrived from Thorrington with cooked food
and ale
there were no smiles and no thanks.

Leaving Brother Wacian and the villagers of Brightlingsea to their own devices Alan rode back through the rain to Thorrington in the late afternoon. There the village women and the youths were busily preparing food either over their own hearths or in open cooking pits
, that latter experiencing some difficulty due to the constant rain
. The baker and his apprentice had been busy all day and loaves of fresh bread were being handed out and ripped into several pieces to serve e
very
man. Meat was being roasted over the cooking pits, mainly pigs, and cauldrons of beef and vegetable stew were bubbling over cooking fires and being
served in wooden bowls.

The tavern had run out of ale, but was still packed with men getting out of the rain, as was every barn and stable. The Old Hall was being used to care for the wounded and the New Hall was packed full with about
100
of the leaders and the more important men. Several tables had been set up at one end of the Hall but it was impossible to seat all of the guests and most were standing with ale mugs in hand, engaging in shouted conversation with their neighbours, fighting the battle again blow by blow. The noise was incredible. Most of the men were wearing the stained tunics they had worn under their gambesons and armour, and the
woollen
breeches they habitually wore. Their clothing was wet with sweat
and rain
. Despite the windows and doors being open to allow in the evening sea-breeze the
rank
smell of the solid throng was overpowering.

Servants wend
ed
their way through the mob carrying platters of food which they placed on several of the tables near the door, and at another table two men were serving ale as fast as
they could pour from the barrel spigot. Another barrel was being trundled in as an empty was rolled out. Alan was sure that his store-room was taking a real beating that day, but mused that this was what it was there for. Better to be used for a victory feast
by
the English than
by
the Danes. The guests held their ale mugs in one hand and in the other an open sandwich that they had made by taking a slice of bread and topping it with the meat and sauces available on the tables. Some instead held joints of meat, fresh apples or slabs of cheese. Clearly Anne had required the kitchen staff to work hard that day producing the copious quantities of food required and Otha the cook had responded well.
The
food was simple but tasty and able to be eaten by hand. Hungry warriors did not require the tasty titbits expected by courtiers. In deference to it being Friday fish was available on the tables,
mainly pickled herring,
but most of the warriors had granted themselves dispensation to eat as they saw fit from the varied provender supplied.

Alan hurried
upstairs to his bedroom and was starting the difficult
task
of stripping off his
wet
armour
and gambeson
when the door opened and Anne slipped in, gave him a lingering kiss and then a hug
-
her nose wrinkling in disgust at the rank smell of the armour and the uncomfortable feeling of bei
ng crushed against metal rings.

A moment later Leof also arrived and together he
and Anne worked
to undo the wet thong ties that fastened the armour and
then
lift
the hauberk
off over Alan’s head. “Make sure you dry it well and oil it,” Alan instructed Leof. “Otherwise you’ll be spending weeks burnishing off the rust!” He pulled off the padded gambeson and his under-tunic, both soaked with sweat and rain, poured cold water from a ewer into a basin and quickly washed his face and hair before wetting a towel and sponging off the worst of the sweat from his body. He then slipped on a clean plain black tunic and hose and sat on the
bed to don his boots.

Still sitting, he leaned forward, put his head in his hands, sighed tiredly and cleared his mind for a moment before standing and then proceeding arm-in-arm with Anne down the stairs and to a small raised dais in the Hall.

At a signal
from
Alan Brand blew a
single
loud note on a signal-horn and the hubbub in the Hall lessened over several seconds as the warriors turned and looked at Alan. “
Hlaford
!” he said. “Thank you for responding to the call to arms so quickly and in such strength. Thanks to you and the efforts of your men together,
and
with God’s good grace, we won a battle that does honour both to you and your men and shows the benefit of the hard work and money spent in e
quipping and training your men.

“
Today we faced an enemy of fierce, well-equipped and well-trained warriors, who outnumbered us two to one. But, thanks be to God, we prevailed as our men showed their mettle, their skills and their bravery. The example and leadership of each and every one of you was instrumental in the outcome, as was the speed with which you
responded to the threat
. Events such as today are the reason why we are who we are, and why we do what we do. It is our privilege and responsibility, before God and before the people, to protect this land and everybody in it, down to the last humble slave. That is why we have the privilege of holding the land as we do and why we must all work as hard as we can to be ready at a moment’s notice to defend what we have and hold. Yes, God fought with us this day, but we all know God helps those who help themselves. Our victory, hard won as it was, comes from the hard work we have all done over many years and in particular in the last two years since the Danes last visited.

“Brother Wacian will say a
m
orning
Mass of thanksgiving at Terce tomorrow. You and all your men are welcome to attend and
are
also welcome to what hospitality the village can offer. Hopefully we will be able to find a dry place for each man to sleep this night! As to booty, it appears that there is little enough to share as the Danes had just arrived on these shores. Apart from fertiliser (here Alan had to pause for several moments to allow the laughter to die away), we have about
4
00
sets of weapons taken from their dead and
wounded, which will be shared amongst those who ask and should be available after Mass tomorrow. The thegns can send wagons, but any freeman can
claim
a set of arms and armour- we
should
have enough to give to any who ask! There are five longships, which I intend to offer to the
sheriff
together with my share of the weapons, if he agrees to man them and keep them available at Colchester to support the shire against future attacks. I trust that this meets with your approval. Now, I’ll have a quick bite and sup and away to the Old Hall to visit the wounded. Once again, my thanks and God bless you all!”

There were several cheers of acclamation as Alan stood down and a dozen or more men came forward to clasp his arm and thump him on the shoulder
s
, expressing their appreciation of his leadership and in particular the skill and tactics shown that day to defeat a more numerous and skilled enemy. Amidst the interruptions Alan ate a hurried meal of mutton stew with vegetables, roast pork with pickled vegetables, fresh bread and cheese. He then went upstairs to change into an old brown tunic
and
walked over towards the Old Hall, still munching on an apple.

Darkness had fallen and in the torch-lit Old Hall the dim and flickering light showed lines of injured men laid out on the rush-covered earthen floor. Some were moaning in pain and two or three were screaming. Brother Wacian and the wise-women of several villages were doing what they could to assist. Father
Ator the priest from Wivenhoe moved amongst the men, praying with them, shriving them and occasionally administering Last Rites. Aedre, the elderly wise-woman from Thorrington, had taken charge. The woman, her young assistant, the other wise-women and some of the village women were doing what they could to ease the pain and tend the injured. Wise-women had some basic knowledge of herbs and treatment of injuries, some could even set broken bones, but most of the injured in the Old Ha
ll were beyond their abilities.

Alan quickly took charge and divided the wounded into four categories. Those who would die irrespective of any treatment they received, usually severe head injuries or stomach wounds. Of these there were well over a dozen, both English and Danes.
The second group comprised t
hose with major trauma needing immediate
treatment
to survive. Again, slightly more than a dozen.
The third was t
hose with serious injuries needing treatment as soon as practical, usually sword or spear cuts to the limbs or torso- some twenty men. The final group was those with deep cuts that required cleansing and stitching, or broken bones that required setting. This group numbered about thirty.
Alan instructed a messenger to ride at first light to Colchester Priory to seek the assistance of the infirm
a
r
e
r and several of his assistants.

Much later, on returning
to
the New Hall
,
Alan was met by Anne, who had been dozing in a chair until he arrived. He was conducted by her to the bath-house outside where water had been warmed and the huge
hot-
tub was ready for use. They both stripped and slipped into the water, luxuriating in its warmth, and Alan scrubbed off both the sweat and dirt of the day and the blood on his arms that he had missed when washing in cold water and poor light at the Old Hall. Near dropping with fatigue he accepted Anne’s arm to assist him from the tub and stumbled upstairs to the bedroom, falling face-first onto the bed into instant insensibility.

Next morning he was roused by the noise from the
Hall
below at about eight, an hour before the special Mass was due to be said by Brother Wacian. He and Anne broke their fast on ham, eggs and fresh bread upstairs, leaving the servants to deal with the guests in the Hall below, before dressing in clean but relatively plain clothing to attend Mass
.
Many of the guests would effectively be attending in their underwear after they had removed the armour they had worn on their arrival, few having had the time or inclination to think about bringing spare clothing to a battle.

The service was conducted in
Anglo-Saxon
English by Brother Wacian
,
both as a celebration of victory and a
eulogy to the dead and wounded. It was held on the
v
illage
g
reen, the church being too small to house those gathered and the Old Hall being occupied by the
wounded. Alan could sympathise with Brother Wacian’s exhausted appearance, as after Alan had departed
to
rest the priest had
clearly
spent much of the remainder of the night
still assisting the injured and
writing his homily for the morning Mass. Fortunately the weather had cleared and the congregation stood under a clear sky in the warmth of a summer’s morning.