For the four miles from Wivenhoe to Thorrington their passage had been welcomed with smiles and waves from the workers in the fields and the villagers. The manors were abuzz with activity. Alan had timed his return so as to be present for Midsummer Day on 24th June, in three days time. Apart from being a Feast Day dedicated to St John the Baptist it was a day when the manor lord was expected to provide food and drink for all. It was also a Quarter Day when rent and taxes were due, and a traditional festival for all the people.
The folk of the Hall, both those who dwelled therein and those who came daily from the village, were gathered in the forecourt, warned of his approach by word racing ahead of his arrival. In the front row were Anne, now significantly larger of belly, Osmund the clerk, Faran the steward and Brother Wacian the priest. Behind were Otha the cook, wiping her hands on her apron, Teon the stablemaster, Brand the huscarle and half a dozen of the lesser servants and maids. Alan dismounted, handing the reins to a stable boy who led the charger away to be rubbed down, fed and watered, and took several stiff steps towards his wife. He bent to embrace and kiss her, then with his arm around her shoulders he greeted the others and they entered the Hall. It was only mid-afternoon as Alan and his men had taken a fairly leisurely three days to ride from Staunton.
At the table in the Hall, while eating a small repast of bread, butter and cheese, Alan and Edric gave a brief account of the time in Wales. Brand and Ainulf sought details, but Alan put them off by saying that he’d have a more detailed discussion another day with the two Englishmen, together with Hugh and Roger. Alan gave the servants instructions to ensure that the water in the bath-house was hot.
No wanting to put off something unpleasant, Alan, Edric and Anne walked to the small but neat village cottage where Lufian, the wife of the dead soldier Leng, lived with her baby daughter. The young woman was quiet and sad but resigned to her situation. Anne had already visited her and offered a position at the Hall when the news had been received the week before. Lufian and her child would not want for food or shelter.
Once back at the Hall in the late afternoon Alan and Anne soaked in the bathwater piped in from a nearby spring and heated by the fires in the kitchen. The bath was a tun barrel cut in half, with steps and several internal benches set at different heights, and now held warm water. Both stretched in pleasure as the hot water loosened sore back muscles, and in Alan’s case shoulders and legs. Alan had a jug of fine Bordeaux and a cup on the floor next to him. The sight of the water lapping at his wife’s breasts soon made him forget most of his aches and he took her into his arms.
As a result dinner was eaten somewhat late. Being a Saturday there were no dietary restrictions and Otha the cook had gone out of her way to create a series of dishes to tempt the palates of those who had eaten roughly-cooked meals for nigh on a month. A thick and creamy chicken and leek soup was followed by boiled beef with green garlic sauce, quails braised in white wine, grilled honeyed pork chops with ginger, three types of vegetables- carrot, peas and beans- carefully cooked and spiced, apple pie with thickened cream and the piquant cheeses that Alan favoured- Roquefort, Gorgonzola, Neufchatel, Parmigiano and Romano. All were accompanied by fresh bread and freshly-churned butter, and ale, wine, herb tea or fruit juice according to taste and inclination.
The returned soldiers and their families attended Mass the next day en masse, the service being held in the Old Hall due to occasional showers sweeping in from the sea and the size of the congregation being too large for the small wooden church. The Tithe Barn was often used in such instances but was currently unavailable due to the quantity of goods gathered for payment of taxes, rents and tithes. Brother Wacian gave thanks for those returning safely and said prayers for the souls of the three men who would not return.
Alan, Anne and the household attended Mass again on Tuesday, Midsummer Day and the Feast of the Nativity of St John the Baptist. On this occasion the congregation squeezed into the small church. Following the service, as the smoke from the cattle, swine and sheep roasting over open fires and the steam of boiling cauldrons containing joints of the same animals drifted past, Alan discussed with Brother Wacian and head-cheorl Toland whether a larger church should be considered, and the expense and difficulty of using stone. The matter was left unresolved for further discussion by the village moot.
Faran and Osmund were kept busy collecting and recording the rent and taxes, the latter then dispatched to Colchester under guard, partly in cash and partly in kind- mainly sacks of grain or salt.
Anne’s business manager Jacob the Jew arrived from London as previously instructed several days later. He and Anne were closeted together for two days as Anne checked through the books and ledgers, carefully calculating profit margins, examining alternative suppliers and trying to anticipate market trends based on the information that Jacob drew from his large network. Alan spent some time listening in and was interested to hear that trouble was expected from the Danes resuming raiding in the autumn, King Swein of Denmark having given his permission for this activity. This would impact the voyages of the ships Birgitta and Stormsvale between Ipswich, Norway, the Netherlands and London, the two ships effectively running a shuttle service back and forth to their respective trading ports every two weeks. Zeelandt’s very profitable but longer and less frequent voyages to Aquitaine wouldn’t be affected.
“And what do you intend to do about the northern voyages? Do you intend to halt them, based on this information?” asked Alan.
Anne sighed and replied, “It’s all a hypothetical risk at the moment. As far as I’m aware there’s been no increase in attacks on merchant ships- yet. Each voyage brings in more in profit than the ship itself is worth. I don’t see any reason to halt the trading based on rumour and speculation. We’ll consider the information and warn the crews to be more careful. If and when the risk eventuates we can review the policy. There are a number of ships trading on these routes, so it’s unlikely the first attacks will be on our ships.”
“We could put some trained soldiers and ballistae on the cogs so they can protect themselves, as we did with Zeeland,” suggested Alan.
“We’ll wait and see,” replied Anne with finality in her procrastination, before turning back to the Jew. “Anything else?”
“Yes, my lady. There is the issue of the outstanding loans,” said Jacob, pulling out a ledger from amongst a pile of others. “You made twenty-three loans to thegns, interest-free for a period of twelve months.” Here his face took on a slightly pained expression at such largess. “That was so that they could pay the Redemption Heriot charged by King William on all English landholders to retain their land. The money was due six months ago. Of the loans, nine have been paid in full. As instructed by you, I gave the others an additional six month grace period and warned them clearly that their land would be forfeit if they did not pay. Ten have made part payment, not less than one-third of the due amount. Four have paid nothing, despite being given another reminder a month ago. Under the terms of the agreements you could foreclose on all of the fourteen manors and seize their lands for your own.”
“What do you think, Alan?” asked Anne.