Wolves in Armour

board’.”

As the list had progressed Alan’s face had become first red and then puce with anger. “How much do you think he has stolen from me?” he asked in a low voice that trembled slightly with the effort of controlling his temper.

“My guess is about one penny in the shilling. And he’s been doing it for years, even under Estan, who was illiterate and would have been easy to fool.”

“I’ll hang the bastard!” exclaimed Alan, reverting to Norman French in his anger.

“No you won’t,” said Anne calmly, still in Latin. “You’ll have to prosecute him in the Hundred court and get a conviction. That probably shouldn’t be too hard. But as a free man all he has to do is pay you his wergild, his blood money, of 200 shillings. He must now be a very wealthy man and would have no trouble in making that payment. What you will do,” she instructed severely, “is continue to employ him. Firstly, you don’t have the time to do the job yourself and you don’t have anybody to replace him with just now. Secondly, you’ll shortly have to leave to perform your military obligations. Having a corrupt steward who takes part of your income is better than having no steward and no income at all. Remember that the Quarter Day for payment of rents and taxes is just over two weeks away. What you will do is have Osmund follow Kendrick everywhere, take notes of every transaction and ask every cheorl, gebur, sokeman, cottar, fisherman, miller- everybody- what their obligations are, how much they have paid for the last few Quarter Days and how much they are paying this time. That’ll give you the evidence to convict Kenrick and at least get 200 shillings back. It’ll also give you enough information to allow another steward to take over.”

With an effort Alan unclenched his fists, nodded and then with a smile leaned over and kissed Anne on the cheek. He downed a cup of wine and poured another for himself and Anne and said, “Thank you for your efforts. Now as a reward…” he rose and fetched the parcel from the side-table and unwrapped it himself. He handed Anne a large book, with a somewhat knocked-about leather cover and some torn and stained pages. “Book 1 of Ovid’s Amores. Amores is a collection of 3 books, but I could only get one. It has 15 poems.” He pulled out two others, both in similar condition. “Ars Amatoria, Book 2 of 3 in the series. In Latin, of course. And Solomon and Saturn, an English work in alliterative verse, but the author is unknown. When is your birthday?”

“The fifth of December,” said Anne in confusion. “You mean that you convinced Brother Leanian to lend you these three books?”

“Better. He gave them to me. They are the poorer copies of what he had in the library, as you can tell by their condition. And now they are yours, although I would ask for the opportunity to copy the two Ovid books.”

“But these are a gift beyond price! I can’t accept them. What did you have to do to get them? Pledge your soul to the Devil?” asked Anne breathlessly.

Alan laughed and said, “Nothing so drastic. The priory prides itself on its hospital, but has only eight of the volumes of Hippocrates’ Corpus, which is a set of textbooks, lectures, research, notes and case studies from the ancient Greeks. They’re written in Ionian Greek, which is a real nuisance because that’s as different from Attic Greek as Norman French is from French. I have three volumes, none of which they have. On Fractures, Of Internal Affections and Of Diseases. I’ve agreed to lend those volumes for them to copy. In return they’ll give me a copy of the eight books they have- The Prognostics, On Regimen in Acute Diseases, On the Instruments of Reduction, Of the Pneuma, On Fleshes, On the Diseases of Women, On the Excision of the Foetus, and On Anatomy. And the librarian gave me these three books. He also asked me to look around for copies of the other volumes and if I arrange an exchange for copying, I’ll get a copy of the additional books myself.”

“Bibles, medical treatises. What other wonders do you have hidden in that room?” asked Anne in wonderment.

“Some copies of military treatises, mainly Roman. How to build bridges under fire, how to build and operate siege weapons- everything down to how to ambush or how to divert streams and poison waterholes. I’m very proud of my copies of Vegetius’ Epitome of Military Science and De Re Militari and my Frontinius.”

“Well, I suppose for a warrior it couldn’t all be poetry and medicine,” said Anne, quite bemused. “But I really can’t accept these books. They’re much too valuable.”

“Then consider them on loan and return them if you ever tire of reading them,” compromised Alan, who had by now finished his jug of wine and was mopping up the last of the gravy on his wooden plate from the re-heated mutton and herb stew that had been the main meal of the day for the household. “It’s been a long day and I have to be up early for weapons training with the men shortly after dawn.”

“Why do you do so much training?” queried Anne.

“I’m a professional soldier. I have to be good at my trade. I’m used to two hours a day practice myself, either with sword or lance, and I’m training twenty mounted cavalry. Hugh does some of it and I do some. It’s our responsibility to make sure they are competent when we lead them out. A well-trained warrior with well-practiced skills stands a better chance of surviving on the battlefield. One of Vegetius’ maxims was ‘Men must be sufficiently tried before they are led against the enemy’- although nothing much will help if you get hit by somebody from behind or get hit by an arrow, or run over by a bolting horse for that matter. I’m a damn good swordsman, but if I put my head over the rim of my shield at the wrong time, nothing will stop an arrow hitting me in the throat if that is what God wills. However, I will tell you that facing those two-handed battle-axes loosens my bowels somewhat.”

Edyth had been much taken by Alan’s casual gift of a few shillings worth of cloth and he was still tired when he rose next morning after a strenuous night. The morning was spent of the Fallow Field, drilling the men to ride as a team and to act instinctively to the movements of their leader. Alan spent a considerable part of the day crouched on his haunches drawing pictures of manoeuvres and formations in the dirt and then mounting to lead the men through the manoeuvres firstly at a walk and then at increasing speed.

Dismissing the men just before noon, he instructed them to be at the field in full harness the next day and each subsequent day.

Back in the Solar at the Hall Alan stripped off and bathed off the sweat and dust of the morning’s exertions with a basin of warm water, helped (or hindered) by Edyth. When she had finished drying him Edyth placed his hands on her breasts and pulled him gently in the direction of the straw-filled mattress on the floor.

As a consequence the mid-day meal was served late, a fact that seemed to concern nobody except Anne, who correctly interpreted Edyth’s flushed face and unmistakable aroma. Brother Godwine was visiting and although Alan usually only observed Fridays as a non-meat day, today was Wednesday and therefore a day that was only arguably a non-meat day. As it was Lent and Alan had instructed the cook Otha to prepare a noon-day meal of fish. This was fried flounder with garlic and mustard sauce, individual fish pies (Alan’s pie contained capon but otherwise looked identical) and sauteed scallops in white wine sauce. Pipefarces and cryspes pancakes with jam and cream. Anne sat on Alan’s right, with Brother Godwine beyond her and Edyth to Alan’s left.

“It is kind of you and your cifes harlot to join us at table,” said Anne in Latin, presumably to maintain some degree of privacy.

“I think that the correct word would be nydh?mestre, or mistress, as Edyth is my leman,” replied Alan coldly, with some surprise at the sudden argument. Although he had some experience, of a basic sort, with women, he had not yet experienced jealousy and was accordingly not able to recognise it.

“Whatever,” replied Anne. “Her scamleast shamelessness last night would have made it hard for any to sleep in the Hall, given the amount of noise.”

“I hardly see what it has to do you anybody as I am not married and am not committing adultery- and least of all what it has to do with you. What I do with my mistress, when, where and how often is between her and me,” replied Alan with some asperity. “You seem to be acting like a gebur’s wife who has found her husband rutting in the hayloft with the milk-maid, or perhaps in the barn with one of the sheep!”

Anne coloured at that image. Although the others, even Brother Godwine who could read some Latin but could speak little of the language other than the incantations of the various prayers, could not understand the full content of their conversation, the use of the few English words and the tone of the conversation gave them a hint at what was being discussed. While Alan could not recognise jealousy, Edyth could and smiled quietly to herself.

“And now I hear that you are to march north with the your ‘Bastard’ king’s army to enslave more good Englishmen,” continued Anne heatedly, now in Anglo-Saxon. A hush fell over the Hall.

“What do you mean?” asked Alan with restraint.