“Yes, in the last few days we’ve been very successful with minimal forces and some use of tactics, something the Danes don’t understand as they tend to think with their axe. I intend to make sure that next time we have the men and machines we need so that if the enemy actually starts to think with their heads instead of their balls, we still prevail. Here in the east we face a number of risks from the sea, as well as the ‘give and take’ of politics at home. Rebellion by the English. Rebellion by the Norman lords. What would happen if William were murdered, or just dies accidentally? He has two sons. Who would support who for the Crown or the Duchy? Difficult times may well be ahead. This raid by the Danes is most opportune. It provides us with the weapons and the money we need to forge both a wealthy and a militarily strong Tendring Hundred, and to look after our own irrespective of what may happen in the future.”
Owain replied, “That’s all too complicated for a simple man like me. A figure of 50 longbowmen I can at least understand. How do you intend to achieve that?”
“Well, I believe that I have a master bowman standing before me. Do you have any other work that is pressing on you at the moment? I can offer you three shillings a week plus your keep.”
Owain’s eyebrows raised. Two shillings was what a knight was paid, and the knight had to provide his own armour, horse, feed and keep. “Tis a generous offer, and one I would find hard to refuse,” he replied. “How do you see this working?”
“I have my Norman bowmen Rogers and Warren, who will need to be retrained. The bow you use is not dissimilar to that used on the continent, but somewhat more powerful. I have twenty archers, based around Thorrington. All are used to the shorter bow and are reasonably competent with it, although I appreciate that is much different to the longbow. I would want squads of ten each at Beaumont, Alresford, Ramsey and Great Oakley. Maybe one later at Dovercourt. And with Lady Anne’s permission, here at Wivenhoe.”
“I’m not a bowyer. How do we get the bows?” asked Owain.
“You know one or two suitable bowyers in Wales?” queried Alan.
“Yes, in the Cardiff area. A good bow costs two or three shillings, and a skilled bower can make two or three a day. The main problem is a lack of suitable dried yew wood. It takes two years or so to dry.”
“Are there any technical problems?”
“Not really,” said Owain. “You’re familiar with the idea of composite bows?”
“Different woods and materials glued together to produce a bow with greater strength and resilience. Yes, they’ve been doing that in Arab lands for hundreds of years,” replied Alan.
“Well, the longbow is a natural composite bow, using the part of the tree where the heartwood and sapwood meet. Different woods with different compression rates, but from the one tree and in one piece of wood,” said Owain. “The traditional construction of a longbow consists of drying the yew wood for one to two years, then slowly working the wood into shape, with the entire process taking up to four years. The actual work to make a bow probably takes half a day for a skilled bowyer. The bow stave is shaped into a D-section. The outer ‘back’ of sapwood, approximately flat, follows the natural growth rings, while the inner side, the ‘belly’, of the bow stave consists of rounded heartwood. The heartwood resists compression and the outer sapwood performs better in tension. Your problem is going to be finding enough properly dried two-year-old yew wood cut to the proper requirements. That’s probably close to as many bows as get made in southern Wales in a year.”
With the favourable wind the ships covered the four miles to Brightlingsea quickly. Alan recommended to his men that they not put their armour on, commenting, “I can swim quite well, but not with forty pounds of harness on my back. Today you’re more likely to fall in the sea and drown than have somebody stick you with a sword.”
It was nearly midnight when they arrived off Brightlingsea. Although the moon had still not risen, the enemy ships could be seen by the lanterns hanging at their sterns. Alan had instructed the English ships to extinguish their lanterns, which caused the seamen some concern at the breach of standard procedures.
The attack went like clockwork. The English boats drew up near the eight Danish ships, which were anchored in a gaggle. The Danes loomed dimly in the dark, their silhouettes barely visible against the sky. The tidal water gurgled as it rushed past the hulls of the Danish and English ships.
Alan ordered four selected men from his ship to climb overboard. They stripped off and carrying a knife between their teeth swam towards the fat trading ship they was their first target. Four other men had as their target a nearby longboat. Moments later they also quietly swam away.
After what seemed an agonisingly long pause but in reality was only minutes, the stern light of the ship was covered once and then twice, the agreed signal. Alan ordered the oars used to bring the ship alongside its target and ten men swarmed aboard. Five minutes later the sergeant was back at the rail, advising that the ship was taken and the guards killed.
They progressed to the next boat, this time a longboat, where the process was repeated. As they had been informed, the ships carried only skeleton crews and few guards. Over the next few minutes the stern lanterns on the other ships flashed their pre-arranged signals of success.
The boats then congregated and Anne had herself rowed in a dinghy to the captured longboats, where the captives were being kept. She called Alan over and he was horrified to see perhaps 100 men, women and children chained together, mainly in a squatting position as there was insufficient room for them to lie down.
For most it had been two days since their capture and while they had been provided some gruel and water they had not been unchained and most were sitting in their own filth. Like the captives previously rescued many were sitting in a torpor, apathetic to their surroundings and what was happening around them. As each had their chains struck off they had to be helped to their feet and physically pushed towards where several water barrels had been set up by the mast for drinking and washing. A few of the women clutched young children either at their hip or by the hand, but most of the captives appeared to be less than twenty and single, or at least unaccompanied.
The few sailors who had been in the Danish crew were helping ready the ship for sailing. A quick look in the cabin showed why the guards had not appeared after the ship had been captured. Apart from the on-duty guard lying dead by the mast, the remaining five had been taken surprise by the raiding party and still lay on their bunks, each with his throat cut from ear to ear. The cabin reeked with the bitter stench of fresh blood and the sweat of the unwashed former crew.
While Alan supervised the disposal of the dead Danes, solved by the simple expedient of throwing them over the side, Anne disappeared to inspect the cargo-ships. She was gone for some time and by the time she returned Alan had moved two of the longboats close to the beach just by the village and sent for Edsel, the King’s Reeve for the village.
It was after four in the morning, the sun was up and the village had been stirring even before Alan’s men had started to knock peremptorily on doors. Alan’s men were carefully and gently assisting the former captives down from the bows of the two longboats beached on the mud-flat. The other ships were slowly sailing north up Barfleet Creek towards Thorrington.