day, as even with a horse-drawn light cart he would have expected to achieve seven miles to the hour. Instead it was nearly dark as they rode over the wooden bridge over the River Wye outside the gates of Hereford, again pausing to pay the toll fee, and then passed into the town which lay on the north side of the river. The road from Gloucester had been turned by the rain into a track of thick mud. The horsemen had walked their beasts at the side of the road on more firm ground, but even so each step taken by man or beast had taken effort as the soaked ground sucked at their feet.
The poor horse pulling the light four-wheeled cart had endured the worse of the journey, being forced to remain in the morass that the road had become and to strain to drag the cart, which often had its wheels mired almost to the axle. Several times the cart had become stuck in the mud and the men and horses had to strain to pull it clear. As they rode towards the town gate Alan noted the town walls looked as if they were newly repaired or improved. The town was one of the few in England to have had a castle before the arrival of the Normans and the bulk of that structure dominated the city to the east of the bridge, being located on the north bank of the river.
At the South Gate of the town Alan found that word had been left for him by Baldwin that they had arrived the day before and had taken lodging at the ‘Three Sheaves’ inn. The Captain of the guard suggested that Alan may wish to consider patronising the ‘Lion’, as he felt that the ‘Three Sheaves’ was probably a too rough for ladies of quality. The Lion was on Broad Street and not far from the Three Sheaves which was on Castle Street, the two streets being separated by the cathedral and its square.
Alan took the advice offered and they proceeded along Wyebridge Street, turned right into Middle Row and then left into Broad Street. The Lion was easily identified by its painted hanging sign and was just a little way up Broad Street. The inn was inspected and found satisfactory, catering mainly to well-to-do travelers, and two rooms were taken at a two silver pennies each for the night, with board for the room occupants included. Alan, Brand and Robert walked the short distance to the Three Sheaves. It catered, as the Captain had indicated, to a rougher clientele, mainly soldiers and carters. Baldwin, Warren and Leofwin, together with fifteen men, had taken two large dormitory-style rooms. Alan negotiated for another similar room and board for ten men and stabling for all the horses at a cost at this cheaper establishment of an extra five silver pennies a day for the room and three pennies for the stabling.
They returned to the Lion, where Alan instructed his men to take the horses to the Three Sheaves’ stable. He wanted to arrange the transfer of all ten of his huscarle escort, but Robert and Brand demurred- they remembered all too well the attempt on Alan’s life during a hunt just days before at London and the powerful enemies that he’d made by opposing the earl of East Anglia and the bishop of London in their extortion from the people of East Anglia in the absence of King William over the summer. In the end it was agreed that four huscarles, the youth Leof and the maid Synne would remain with Alan and Anne. Synne would sleep on a straw mattress on the floor in the room occupied by Alan and Anne, to protect the maid from any unwanted attentions- Alan and Anne being too tired to require privacy. One huscarle would stand guard outside Alan’s bedroom each night.
Dinner that evening was the inevitable pottage, a thick vegetable soup flavoured with a little meat which for most people in the country was their main meal, a re-heated roast of lamb cooked the day before, beef pie and vegetables braised in stock, accompanied by wine, mead or ale depending on individual preference.
Over the meal Alan and Anne heard what Baldwin, Warren and Leofwin had learned locally. They had not ridden to the manor at Staunton, but on their approach to Hereford from the east had passed through damaged and burnt villages and manors. Little damage had been noticed by Alan and his party on their journey north from Colchester, but it soon became clear that the land north and east of the River Wye had suffered severely- although apparently not as much as that to the west, where Alan’s manors were located. Alan agreed with Anne that next day she could accompany them on the nine mile ride to the west to the manor of Staunton, but specified that she would return that night to Hereford as there was little likelihood that suitable accommodation would have survived in any of his manors. Synne would remain in Hereford.
Next morning they rose early and were finishing a substantial breakfast when they heard the noise of the others of the party arriving outside. Anne was feeling better that day and rode ahorse, although side-saddle rather than astride. They had to wait several minutes by the gate before it was opened at first light and then they rode west on the road that ran on the north side of the River Wye. Swainshill, Bridge Sollers and Byford were, if not devastated, certainly still significantly damaged even six months after the invasion.
After a ride of nine miles they reached Staunton, which was a little over a mile away from the river. The village of Monnington lay on the north bank of the River Wye. Bobury was to the south-west and Norton Canon to the north-east. The former was about two miles away and also on the river, the latter about three miles distant, and the four villages comprised the land which Alan had recently received from the king’s hand.
Alan’s party was nearly thirty strong, the huscarles and Wolves wearing their armour, and engendered considerable concern as they halted in the centre of the village. A number of villagers were looking on and Alan called to a nearby gebur, a freeman of low station, to fetch the village headman and elders. He then he dismounted and assisted Anne from her horse. Baldwin barked several sharp commands in Anglo-Saxon English and four pairs of Wolves, each in their distinctive green-dyed wolf-pelt cloak, moved slightly away into defensive positions, looking about alertly.
Alan and Anne stood next to the rouncey Alan had been riding, a chestnut stallion called Fayne, and Anne’s white palfrey Misty. Both lord and lady had hands on hips and were looking about them. Staunton had, or rather until recently had once had, forty or so cottages around a large village green. Of these some fourteen were burnt- out shells and most of the others showed signs of damage and hasty repair. White-washed wattle-and-daub walls were smoke-blackened; roofs were recently re-thatched; those sheds and outbuildings that remained either bore scorch-marks or were missing walls or roofs. Some buildings, such as the tavern, had been repaired more thoroughly. Only very few, such as the small white-painted wooden church, showed no damage. Most of the cottages had pig-sties or chicken runs, or both, behind them. Barely half had any livestock in them.
The manor Hall, behind a wooden palisade, was a burnt-out ruin. “A good call by you on my sleeping arrangements,” commented Anne quietly.
Alan grunted in reply, “There’s damn-all left here,” he agreed.
Several cheorls, freemen of moderate means, approached, dressed in rough and plain tunics and trews. “God Hael,
The village headman introduced himself. He was a dark-haired man called Siric, above middle years but not yet elderly. He was large but not corpulent, perhaps because of lack of food in recent times. He named the other men with him and they then quickly showed Alan and the others around the village and before conducting them to Norton Canon, Monnington and Bobury. The damage to the two latter villages, which were on the river, included the ruination of their watermills, with the water-wheels being smashed and the buildings burnt. ‘At least the water- races and the mill-stones themselves still exist,’ mused Alan. They were back at Staunton by early afternoon, bringing with them the headman and elders of each village. They crowded into the tavern at Staunton as the Moot-Hall was still under repair.
“
“Because of the damage to these lands the king’s taxes have been remitted for three years. Other than obligations to provide customary labour and also food for my men, any obligation owed by the villages to me as lord are waived until Christmastide, and possibly longer. There will be twenty armed men in my employ here at Staunton under Sir Robert to protect you. I expect every fit freeman, irrespective of whether or not they have military obligations, to train and be a worthy member of the fyrd.
“A fort will be built here at Staunton. This will be not to oppress you, but to protect you. All will contribute labour to its building and all will be entitled in time of war to seek its shelter. This labour will be the traditional
