be ready at short notice. Weapons and stores had been ready packed and the horses re-shod, tack checked and oiled, leather tents aired, checked for mould and re-oiled.
Alan had ridden with 30 horsemen, a dozen archers and 6 grooms including Leof, all mounted, and 10 pack- horses carrying equipment and supplies. Alan had ridden his destrier warhorse Odin, who had displayed his usual bad temper and misbehavior. The horsemen were led by Hugh, Ainulf and Edric, the archers by the Welshman Owain and the Englishman Aethelbald. He had not followed King William’s instruction to bring every man he had. His feudal obligations were 6 men and he’d brought 42. The others, led by huscarle Brand and the Norman archer Roger, more than equal to that in number but mainly infantry and archers, had been left behind to protect the lands of Tendring Hundred against potential attack. Ship-borne attack by the Danes was an ever-present risk, and Alan also had little trust in some of his neighbours.
The longbowmen were Alan’s ‘secret weapon’ and they had been instructed to keep their bows out of sight in leather bags and not to practice at the butts. The horsemen were riding as light cavalry without lances, although these could be easily be cut if required.
His men were currently struggling with the wind and darkness to erect their ten-man leather tents on the common outside the city, where approximately 2,000 men were encamped. Alan had bought food for the men and horses, rather than having the aggravation of trying to obtain supplies from the army victualler late in the day and had arranged with a taverner for an 18 gallon kilderkin of ale to be collected by the men.
After downing two quarts of ale, and just as a bowl of mutton stew was placed in front of him giving off a delicious rich aroma, a messenger arrived to advise that Alan was required immediately at the abbey, where the king had taken quarters. Alan sighed, looked at his food and reaching a decision waved the flunkey to a chair while calling for the pot-boy to bring the man a quart of ale. “You had some trouble finding me,” instructed Alan as he wolfed his food down as quickly as he could.
Some ten minutes later they were striding through the town. It was fully dark but the messenger carried a flaming torch raised high so that they could see their path as they walked through the muddy streets, carefully avoiding the piles of rotting refuse. Most of the town was built on low-lying and marshy land next to the River Nene to the east of the stone-built abbey and they walked up a rise to the dryer limestone ground on which the abbey had been constructed. Despite the lateness of the hour the streets of the town were quite active, mainly with soldiers from the king’s army. Several patrols of foot-soldiers, a dozen strong, were making the rounds to ensure that nothing untoward took place.
Once inside the abbey Alan was directed to the abbot’s office, where the king and his cousin William fitzOsbern were sitting on a bench at a table near a roaring fire, papers spread in front of them. Noticing Alan’s travel-stained appearance the king waved Alan to sit at a bench opposite and to help himself to a cup of wine from the jug on the table. Alan did as he was bid and flexed his shoulders and back to relieve some of the stiffness.
“A long day in the saddle?” enquired fitzOsbern.
“No more than most. The distance from Colchester to here is much of a muchness at that from London to here. I’m just getting old,” said the man who would shortly be twenty-one, with a small smile.
“How many men?” asked the king briskly.
“Thirty- light horsemen. Pack-horses for the equipment,” replied Alan, deliberately failing to mention his archers. Anticipating the next question he added, “Mainly English, with Norman officers.”
The king pulled a wry face. “The English make poor cavalry in my experience.”
Alan bridled slightly at the implied criticism. “They’re properly trained and properly led. They’ll give a good account of themselves, as they did in Wales with Earl William here last year. They fought, and died, well enough then.”
FitzOsbern nodded his agreement. “True enough. Thorrington has good men, and well-led.” After a brief pause he continued, “Thirty men is a good number. You must have virtually emptied out your estates of every able-bodied man. I command the vanguard, and because of your success last year I want you and your men as scouts. We march at first light and will progress fifty miles to Lincoln. The next day from Lincoln to just short of York, seventy miles. The following day we retake the city.”
“For a large army, that’s traveling fast,” said Alan with a thoughtful frown. “In Wales we moved short distances very fast, but only after very careful scouting. We can’t move seventy miles in a day and have my men beat every bush and tree to see if it contains a man with a bow. What’s the lay of the land?”
“It’s poor for scouting,” replied fitzOsbern briefly. “It’s also poor for ambushes. Flat land with very few hills. Lots of marshes. The Ermine Street, the Old Roman North Road, skirts just to the west of the Fens. There’s a fair amount of light woodland and some thicker forests. The eastern part of Sherwood Forest comes up to the road. There’s just the one river crossing between here and Lincoln. No towns and only a handful of villages. Your task is twofold. To prevent a large ambush or unexpected attack on our forces when they are strung out along the road, but more particularly to prevent their scouts and spies reporting back where we are and what we’re doing. We want to hit York by surprise early on Wednesday.”
“Keeping the approach of 2,000 men hidden will not be easy,” commented Alan.
“At least 3,000 men,” interjected the king. “Probably closer to 4,000. The men from the south-west and midlands will be marching up the Fosse Way and meeting us at Lincoln. I’m leaving a strong force on the Welsh border so they don’t try to take advantage of me being distracted. Other than that, I’m determined to make a show of force.”
“Lincolnshire and the fens are the haunts of Hereward ‘the Wake’,” reminded Alan.
The king shrugged. “He has a few hundred men and could make some trouble, mainly by delaying us. He’s unlikely to be your worry. You’ll be scouting ahead. The flanks will be covered by others. Even 2,000 men take up a lot of road and I’m well aware that an army that strung out and with no room for maneuver is at risk. That’s why I want to move fast.”
Alan tilted his head and pulled a wry face, his body-language showing he didn’t agree but it wasn’t his problem. “I’d best go and pass the good news to my men that they have to rise two hours before everybody else, and get a good night of sleep,” he said, draining his cup and rising to his feet.
Between Peterborough and Lincoln were a handful of villages. Glinton, Market Deeping, Langtoft and Baston; the crossing of the Glen River; Bourne; Falkingham and, just south of Lincoln, Bracebridge Heath. Alan’s men soon developed a rhythm. Ten men would ride on the road itself some two miles ahead of the vanguard of the army. Wherever possible two squads each of ten men would push through the countryside half a mile from the road. Usually this was not possible on the eastern flank as the fens and marshes came close to the road, forcing the scouts closer to the road. On the western flank it was difficult to move cross-country even on horseback as quickly as the army marching on the well-made road. At each village the flanking squads would swing around to the north of the village, two squads entering the village from the north as the squad riding the road entered from the south. The remaining men would observe from cover to the north to ensure that no riders or messengers hurried north. The squads in the village would hand over to the army’s vanguard and then hurry north to take their position again.
At the bridge over the Glen River near Bourne two squads pushed past to cover the village from the north, while the others held the bridge until the vanguard arrived, before again leap-frogging ahead. No difficulties or incidents were experienced that day, and Alan had not expected any as they were moving through ostensibly friendly country. The next day he expected to be somewhat different.
Approaching Lincoln from the south Alan led a single squad to the wooden bridge over the River Witham to ensure that the large party of guards which could be seen about the bridge and the gate were in fact loyal to the sheriff. Lincoln is unusual in that it is built in a gap in the Lincoln Cliff. A limestone escarpment up 200 feet high, although less than that in the city, split the city into the Uphill and Downhill. The wooden motte and bailey castle built the previous year (unusual in having two mottes) and the foundations being laid for the stone cathedral dominated the landscape on the Uphill, rather than being centrally located or near the river. Alan and his men rode up the appropriately-named Steep Hill Road, the horses finding some difficulty in obtaining footing on the muddy surface. Despite its location in an inhospitable countryside comprised mainly of swamps and salt water marshes, the city was obviously large, bustling and prosperous, with a population of about 5,000- principally because of the navigability of the river allowing easy access to the sea and the proximity of the Trent Valley.
It was early afternoon when Alan and his men arrived at the castle, confirmed with the castellan that the army was expected and ate a hurried hot meal of pottage, mutton stew and bread. They then secured food supplies
