stood apathetically, many failing even to give their names when questioned. Edwold and Alric gave sworn evidence about finding the men, the location of the hideouts and the goods recovered. When asked, none of the accused had any witnesses to call and Alan ruled that in the circumstances none were oath-worthy. One, a small thin boy of about twelve, with a dirty face and lousy torn clothes, was sobbing quietly.
“You, boy!” demanded Alan gruffly. “What are you doing here with these men?”
“Please, master,” came the hesitant reply in a thin voice. “My father brought me to the forest when he joined these men before Christmastide.”
“Which one is he?” asked Alan.
“He went out and didn’t return a week or so ago, along with a number of other men from our camp. Three returned and said the others had been killed in an attack.”
“Are those three here?” said Alan continuing the interrogation.
“Those two,” said the boy pointing. “The other one died this morning when he tried to run away.”
Alan laughed. “He was good at that, but not good enough this time when we were ready for him! Now did you ever take part in any robbery?”
“No, master! I was just used as a camp servant,” said the boy.
“Do any of you others gainsay what the boy has said? No? Well, perhaps you won’t hang with the others, but your case is difficult. You have no kin to give frankpledge on your behalf. The law permits me only to execute, fine or mutilate felons. Now, the twelve ealdormen, how say you on the guilt of the accused?”
Each of the thegns replied in turn, “Guilty!”
“Even the boy?” asked Alan.
All twelve nodded and Alric replied, “Even the boy.”
“I’m not supposed to pass sentence of death on any person not yet sixteen years of age,” said Alan thoughtfully.
“Well, that’s why you have your job as judge and I say you’re welcome to it,” replied Alric. “It’s your problem, not mine. You can always just cut off his right hand and tell him to abjure the county.”
“Excuse me, Sir” said one of the prisoners, who had been looking quietly confident during the proceedings. “May I have a private word with you before you pass sentence?” Alan noted that the man’s voice was somewhat less rustic than the churlish tones of the others and that he was slightly better dressed. “No, but you may speak before sentence is carried out. Now, I sentence each of you, except the boy…” Alan looked at the list in front of him “…Linn… to hang by the neck until dead, and to be buried in unconsecrated ground. Those of you who give your names to Edwold may be shriven by the priest. You have twenty minutes to make your peace with God. Now clear the Hall except for the ealdormen, Linn- and I think your name is Pearce, is it not?” The prisoner nodded.
The barn emptied quickly and Alan said to Pearce, “Speak quickly! You have an appointment with the hangman in a few minutes.”
Pearce inclined his head. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. This is not just a simple matter of a band of outlaws. Atelic, the leader who you killed last week, was given this area as his own, just as you were given your demesne. You’ve cleaned out the forest for now, but another band will be here within a few months. There’s a man from up Lexden way who is coordinating the outlaws. You’ll have noticed an increase in attacks in your Hundred. In Lexden Hundred they’re already starting to attack and sack villages. I can provide you or the sheriff with information that is well worth my life, and perhaps more.”
“Edwold, have these two manacled to the wall and set a man as guard. We’ll see the others hang and then discuss this further,” instructed Alan.
At the edge of the village was an oak tree with a particularly long horizontal branch- the hanging tree. When Alan and the ealdormen walked slowly up to the tree each of the seven men to be executed had a noose about their neck attached to a length of rope. Each stood in turn on a wooden box, which was then kicked away leaving the victim swinging in the air. There was only one box, so the process took some time. The hangman had not done a good job and only two of the seven died of a broken neck. The others hung gasping, legs thrashing as they slowly strangled. The villagers laughed and pointed, and some were taking bets on how long it would take individuals to die. The last took more than 45 minutes.
“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
