linen, one in burgundy-coloured silk (which Alan noticed was the same material used in the bride’s wedding dresses) and one in hunter-green velvet. The other parcel contained three pairs of boots, in black, red and green leather.
“I wondered where my boots went that day in Ipswich” said Alan with a smile. “How did you get the tunics and hose the correct size without me having a fitting? That gold tunic fitted perfectly.”
“I stole one of your old tunics that fitted well and gave it to the tailor. Just like the boots to the cobbler, although since you only had one pair I couldn’t let him pull the boots apart to get a proper design. I know you like to dress inconspicuously in black, but you’re an important man, a member of the Curia Regis and the King’s Inner Council and will need to dress accordingly.” Anne put her hand into a pocket and said “And I also have this.” When Alan opened the small box he found a signet ring, gold with red jasper carved with a design of a crossed sword and arrow with fire in the background. “Beautiful, and an appropriate design,” he commented as he slipped the ring onto his finger. Anne checked the size, which fortunately fitted well. They hugged and kissed quickly before proceeding downstairs to meet their guests.
The bawdy banter was somewhat less than usual as both the guests and members of the household were aware that Alan and Anne had been sleeping together for some weeks, but most of the age-old jokes were made over the mid-day meal. Alan and Anne asked Orvin how the festive dinner had progressed after they had left the previous evening. Alan had a quiet word with Osmund about the feelings of the villagers. The response was that the residents of both Thorrington and Wivenhoe seemed to bear genuine goodwill to Anne as their lady and to Alan as their lord, and also in Wivenhoe’s case as its saviour. Alan might well be a foreigner but was well accepted and loved.
Next day Alan took Anne’s family, women included, hunting along the coastline, the women riding side-saddle and Anne wearing conventional clothing. On emerging from the Hall Alan presented Anne with another Morning Gift- a female merlin, a medium-sized falcon. “Her name is Cyrtenes, or ‘Beauty’. Benoic’s been training her for several months since she was taken from the nest.” He first handed his wife with a gauntlet of thick leather, and then placed the merlin on her wrist. She was a beautiful creature about a foot long, with pale off-white feathers highlighted by darker brown markings, dark grey wings and a barred tail. “The merlin is a falcon, not a hawk- a long-wing, so we can’t use her much in the woods. She needs open space to work. She’s a pigeon-hawk. My peregrine falcon, Caf, is also a female, and will take duck and grouse. She’s much larger and heavier to carry. Caf has been trained by Benoic to also take hares, which they don’t usually do. It’s interesting that with birds of prey the females are larger and more aggressive than the males! Don’t expect her to show any affection to you. Hawks and falcons don’t- they just tolerate us because they’ve been trained that we’re a source of food and shelter. You never know when you cast them off if they’re going to return, and often we have to use a lure to bring them back, relying on their greed. One day that probably won’t be enough and she’ll likely fly away.
It was a warm and pleasant day and Alan enjoyed being outdoors and the exercise. Alan taught Anne the basics of how to use a falcon- how to untie the hood, with one hand, when to release her and how to call her back. To allow Anne to use her new gift more fully they were hunting the coastline along the mudflats and swamps of the estuary, rather than woodland, as both birds were long-wings and would struggle to take prey in a forest and would be more likely to suffer injury. Cyrtenes had taken two pigeons and Caf had taken a duck and a hare by the time they paused for a picnic lunch near Brightlingsea. Raedwald and Garrett had been provided with hunting bows, but they hadn’t shown any skill on the few times that the party had got close enough to loose a few arrows at their intended prey of ducks.
Clearly the guests, especially the women, were not entertained by the day’s activities and Orvin asked, “You do this often? We don’t seem to be catching enough food to provide dinner.”
“Hawking isn’t really about catching dinner, it’s more an excuse to get out and have some exercise in the open. Most hawks are too small to catch anything worthwhile. When we go hunting in the forest for deer and boar we usually get at least enough to feed the high table for a few days, but I didn’t think slinking quietly through the forest was something Lora, Mae and Ellette would enjoy. It’s also more dangerous, with boar, bear and wolves- and also the risk of being hit by somebody else’s’ arrow! I can arrange to take the men out in the forest the day after tomorrow, if you like. Most of the nobility, Norman and English, hunt regularly.
“Personally, I enjoy a day out in the sun and a little exercise but don’t really enjoy ‘the thrill of the hunt’. I’m concentrating too much on not putting an arrow into one of my hunting party! Boar hunting is… exciting, if that’s the correct word. It’s enough to make you crap in your pants. The boar suddenly appears about ten paces away, charges straight at you intending to kill you with its tusks and you have to stick a spear straight in its chest and kill it quickly, before it kills you.” Orvin, Garrett and Raedwald looked unimpressed at the idea of boar hunting, clearly preferring not to have to fight with their food. Young Betlic was one of the few guests who looked like he was enjoying the outing.
“What else do you do out here?” asked Raedwald.
Alan laughed. “It’s not like we’re in a city like Ipswich were they have dancing bears, dog-fights and cock- fights,” he said. “We are poor rustic people. Watching a horse cover a mare is enough entertainment for most villagers for a week. Anne and myself are kept busy with the duties our position brings. Efficiently running six manors, each of which is like a small business. Listening to complaints brought by over 1,000 people, attending the Hundred court. In my case training the fyrdmen and my own troopers each morning.”
“I’ve heard that you are one on the best swordsmen in Europe,” interjected Betlic.
Alan smiled. “I can handle a blade well and that’s what I try to teach my men,” he replied modestly.
Bored by the lack of any but rustic pursuits Anne’s family departed to return home early on the morning of Tuesday 3rd July. Although Alan liked them well-enough, he felt a sense of relief when they left, almost a feeling that now nobody was looking over his shoulder and he could scratch an itch without wondering if anybody would be offended. Lora in particular showed all the signs of being a typical mother-in-law, with few words of praise and many of complaint.
Alan chose the following day to ‘beard the lion in his den’ and rode out in the early morning to see Robert fitzWymarc at Colchester Castle, taking Osmund, Leof and half a dozen Wolves in full armour. Calling in at ‘the Three Hounds’ for some sustenance after the ride, Alan was surprised to hear from the taverner that a youth had left a message with him, which was to meet with ‘Brun the one-eyed’ at the ‘Hog’s Head Tavern’, a rough inn down near the docks. Alan made a mental note to attend to that in the afternoon.
It was a short walk up the hill to the castle, where Alan’s guards were left at the guard-house by the gate. After a short wait the three were shown into the cluttered small room that was, for want of a better description, fitzWymarc’s office.
FitzWymarc sat with his boots up on the table, wearing a stained and threadbare tunic and hose and eating an apple with his mouth open. Alan could see one of the boots needed repair. Sitting on a bench behind fitzWymarc were his deputy Roger and a fat priest who appeared to act as fitzWymarc’s scribe, but who was not introduced. Alan had taken particular trouble with the appearance of his party and both Osmund and Leof wore new clothes of dark green, while Alan wore one of the more simple black embroidered tunics that Anne had given him, in linen and not silk so as not to appear overly ostentatious, and his new signet ring. FitzWymarc waved them to sit at a bench opposite him at the table.
“Good morning, Sir Robert! I trust that we find you well,” said Alan by way of conversation as it appeared fitzWymarc wasn’t going to say anything. “This is my clerk Osmund and we have matters of importance that we wish to discuss with you as sheriff.”
FitzWymarc grunted, threw the chewed apple-core into the corner of the room and abruptly said, “I hear that congratulations are in order, to you and Lady Anne. What Earl Ralph will have to say about your breach of the ban on marrying landed widows I can only imagine!”
Alan was guarding his temper well. A man of even disposition and rarely given to bad humour, he was well aware that on those few occasions when he lost his temper the results tended to be spectacular. To abuse fitzWymarc, the sheriff and the most powerful man in the shire, would achieve nothing. Clearly from fitzWymarc’s attitude the meeting was not to be friendly and relations were not on a good footing.
“What is the attitude of the earl of East Anglia to my marriage is a matter of total unconcern to me. I hold no land from him nor any of his minions, including yourself, nor does Lady Anne. We needed no man’s permission to marry, and as such we sought none. I’m sure that Earl Ralph has more important matters on his mind than my marital status- although I’m sure that if it is of importance to him, he’ll raise the topic when we next sit together on
