soon as possible, weather permitting.
Back at Thorrington Alan reported to Anne the outcome of his journey. Brother Wacian arrived just before darkness fell, at about four in the afternoon. He conducted a simple and abbreviated service for Anne. Alan and most of the household, including the soldiers from the barracks, also attended, kneeling on the fresh rushes spread on the floor of the main Hall. Cutting the service to the ‘bare bones’ with no gospel readings, no homily, only one Psalm was read (actually recited from memory, like the rest of the service, as the priest hadn’t brought the Bible or Missal) and two hymns which were sung mainly because the congregation expected it, the service including the presentation of the Eucharist took a little over twenty minutes. Bother Wacian was hungry and the smells emanating from the kitchen did not encourage him to delay.
Like most lords of the manor, Alan and Anne usually ate with most of the household, although the common soldiers usually ate in the barracks. The high-table was placed close to the fire, with Brother Wacian again marveling at the construction of the metal hood and metal chimney which drew the smoke out of the Hall while admitting neither wind nor rain. Alan’s design problems had been overcome with the suggestions and assistance of a London metal-smith several months previously. At the same time the windows had been sealed against draughts by the installation of broad-sheet blown glass of a slightly greenish tinge- the colour due to the soda content which allowed lower working temperatures and longer working periods, which made it much cheaper than clear glass- although still ruinously expensive.
Because the weather had been reasonably clear that day Anne had arranged for several fishermen to be on special missions. Alan hated fish and Anne was not fond of it day after day. For the previous few days she had arranged for shrimp to be caught in baited traps in the freshwaters or tidal waters of Alresford Creek and Barfleet Creek near Thorrington and the Colne River.
The previous night the boat fisherman had been able to go out and lay baited traps offshore for lobster, which had been retrieved and the lobsters were sitting in holding tanks of seawater and being purged of their waste, which took several days. Scallops and mussels had been gathered, again mainly sitting in the salt-water holding tanks awaiting future use. Today flounder and other flatfish had been caught in the shallows. She had plaiced orders (*pun intended) for flatfish, catfish, cod and haddock, but not the oily herring. Live fish were preferred, and dolphin if caught. Small holding-pens for live fish had been established on the tidal section of Alresford Creek.
Anne hadn’t been entrusted with the operation of her previous husband’s household and, this being the first Lent period since her marriage, she intended to fully extend her intellect to the problem of catering for forty days to a husband who hated fish. The non-availability for six days of the week, for religious reasons, of eggs and dairy products did not help as this reduced the available range of sauces and other dishes.
Frankly, Alan, although in other ways quite devout, was not particularly concerned about complying with dietary restrictions. The previous year had been the first in which he’d had any control over what appeared at table and he was sure that the Good Lord appreciated his other qualities. He was to some extent a servant of his stomach, even at risk to his immortal sole (*pun also intended). But Anne was in charge- and each Sunday he would be free to eat his fill of red meat, swine, eggs and dairy produce. ‘If you eat enough of something in one day maybe you wouldn’t miss it for the next six,’ he mused.
In fact Anne had arranged for Otha the cook to have more than enough to work with. Tonight’s meal was mussels and scallops braised in white wine and with garlic and onions, with Lenten foyles of cabbage, spinach, turnip greens, collard greens, almond milk, currents, salt and pepper. Tomorrow would be flounder with ginger sauce, fried gourd and cress with almond milk. Whether an interesting menu could be maintained with limited ingredients for forty days would be a challenge.
Unfortunately, food which should have been lightly braised was cooked to death, the mussels and scallops being as tough as old boots and the foyles burnt. Alan and Brother Wacian had eaten worse and chewed away without complaint, although also without much enjoyment. Fortunately there were no local restrictions on wine, and Alan broached a flagon of fine Bordeaux red to make up for the poor food. Alan suggested that Brother Wacian and Anne play a game of Tabula while he wrote a letter to his father. The need for a top-quality horse trainer was the immediate cause, but had made Alan recognise that it was many months since he had written to Normandy. He mentally reassured himself that the reason for this was the difficulty in having messages delivered overseas, but he wasn’t entirely convinced by his own argument.
The letter was dispatched to Aaron the Jew in Colchester, with a request that he have it forwarded to the Jewry of Amiens and hence to Alan’s father at Gauville. The delivery method would be relatively expensive, but quick and certain.
February passed slowly. Winter’s hard grip remained on the land and the days when the peasants could work the fields, the fishermen ply their boats and nets or the soldiers train outside were rare. Manure and marl were supposed to be carted to the fields and spread, but this was behind schedule. Alan was again going to use the three-field system on his land. This, together with other innovations such as increased sowing rates and selection of seedstock, had the previous year provided him with nearly double the crops grown in the more traditional two-field system still used by the villagers. The extra grain had also allowed him to keep additional livestock over the winter, instead of slaughtering all but the breeding stock in the autumn, which in turn would allow an increase in the size of his herds in the coming year.
The salthouse owned by Alan on Barfleet Creek was one of the few areas of activity. The salt that had been harvested from the salt-pans at the end of the summer had been cleaned and stored in sacks stacked on racks above the ground to avoid moisture, and was now being milled and placed in barrels ready for sale when the roads re-opened. A little less than half the salt in storage belonged to Alan, the remainder belonged to the villagers who were charged ten percent of the harvest for the use of the storage and milling facilities. Alan owned similar salthouses at his manors of Bradfield, Ramsey and Great Bentley, and two each at Beaumont and Great Oakley. Many of the other manors in the Hundred had similar salthouses and these formed an important part of the local economy, being the main cash-earner for most villages. Alan and his villages had increased the number of saltpans the previous spring to allow extra funds to pay the
At least three mornings a week Alan conducted training for his warriors in the covered
Alan spent most afternoons tinkering in his workshop, with the occasional assistance of the village carpenter, building the eight ballistae and two onagers he intended to dispatch to Staunton in the spring. Life settled into a boring rustic existence while the people, animals and land waited for spring.
The holding pens by the Alresford creek for the live fish worked quite well, allowing fresh fish and shellfish to be kept, although the tanks for the crabs and lobsters were not as successful due to their cannibalistic nature. They were placed in the tanks to be purged, which made them hungry- so they tried to eat each other.
The shellfish, lobsters and crabs were reserved for the high-table. The Hall servants and soldiers ate fresh fish when available, and salted when it was not. There was only one week when because of protracted storms Brother Wacian granted a dispensation to the villagers to eat the meat of fowl, which Alan took advantage of despite the Hall having ample supplies of salt fish, having some of the chickens, peafowl, pheasants and quail which were usually kept in pens killed to provide variety to the diet.
By assiduous effort a varied and interesting menu featuring seafood, albeit with usually just one main course, was maintained. After the first disaster Anne had made it clear to Otha the cook that, at least at high-table, they expected well cooked and well presented meals. Being bored and cooped up inside was bad enough without having to eat poor food. A good meal, with fine wine, gave the day a lift. While the dietary restrictions of Lent caused some problems it didn’t mean that they had to eat fish stew every night.
Each Sunday, as permitted by custom, cows, calves, pigs, chickens and sheep were slaughtered and cooked for the eighty or so occupants of the Hall and barracks; dishes featuring eggs were prepared and cheese eaten. The hoi polloi as usual ate food of a basic but filling nature, while Otha was required to use every drop of her talent to produce high-quality meals for the high-table. Brother Wacian was a frequent guest at table. To his chagrin and embarrassment he began to put on weight, which he was not supposed to do while suffering the privations of Lent.
