Nate said aggressively: “Are you asking for the land yourself?”
Aaron shook his head. “In a few more years, when my boys are big enough to help, I’ll jump at such a chance,” he said. “I couldn’t handle it now.”
“I can manage it,” Perkin said.
Gwenda frowned. Nate obviously wanted Perkin to have the land. No doubt a bribe had been promised. She had known all along that Perkin had money. But she had little interest in exposing Perkin’s duplicity. She was thinking of how she could exploit this situation to her advantage, and get her family out of poverty.
Nate said: “You could take on another labourer, Perkin.”
“Wait a minute,” Gwenda said. “Perkin can’t pay the labourers he’s got now. How can he take on more land?”
Perkin was taken aback, but he could hardly deny what Gwenda was saying, so he remained silent.
Nate said: “Well, who else can cope with it?”
Gwenda said quickly. “We’ll take it.”
Nate looked surprised.
She added quickly: “Wulfric is working for food. I have no work. We need land.”
She noticed several nodding heads. No one in the village liked what Perkin had done. They all feared that one day they might end up in the same situation.
Nate saw the danger of his plan going awry. “You can’t afford the entry fee,” he said.
“We’ll pay it a little at a time.”
Nate shook his head. “I want a tenant who can pay right away.” He looked around the assembled villagers. However, no one volunteered. “David Johns?”
David was a middle-aged man whose sons had land of their own. “I would have said yes a year ago,” he said. “But the rain at harvest time knocked me back.”
The offer of an extra ten acres would normally have had the more ambitious villagers fighting among themselves, but it was a bad year. Gwenda and Wulfric were different. For one thing, Wulfric had never ceased to long for land of his own. Alfred’s acres were not Wulfric’s birthright, but they were better than nothing. Anyway, Gwenda and Wulfric were desperate.
Aaron Appletree said: “Give it to Wulfric, Nate. He’s a hard worker, he’ll get the ploughing done in time. And he and his wife deserve some good luck – they’ve had more than their fair share of bad.”
Nate looked bad-tempered, but there was a loud rumble of assent from the peasants. Wulfric and Gwenda were well respected despite their poverty.
This was a rare combination of circumstances that could get Gwenda and her family started on the road to a better life, and she felt growing excitement as it began to seem possible.
But Nate was still looking dubious. “Sir Ralph hates Wulfric,” he said.
Wulfric’s hand went to his cheek, and he touched the scar made by Ralph’s sword.
“I know,” said Gwenda. “But Ralph’s not here.”
52
When Earl Roland died the day after the battle of Crécy, several people moved a step up the ladder. His elder son, William, became the earl, overlord of the county of Shiring, answerable to the king. A cousin of William’s, Sir Edward Courthose, became lord of Caster, took over the rule of the forty villages of that fiefdom as a sub-tenant of the earl, and moved into William and Philippa’s old house in Casterham. And Sir Ralph Fitzgerald became lord of Tench.
For the next eighteen months, none of them went home. They were all too busy travelling with the king and killing French people. Then, in 1347, the war reached a stalemate. The English captured and held the valuable port city of Calais, but otherwise there was little to show for a decade of war – except, of course, a great deal of booty.
In January 1348 Ralph took possession of his new property. Tench was a large village with a hundred peasant families, and the manor included two smaller villages nearby. He also retained Wigleigh, which was half a day’s ride away.
Ralph felt a thrill of pride as he rode through Tench. He had looked forward to this moment. The serfs bowed and their children stared. He was lord of every person and owner of every object in the place.
The house was set in a compound. Riding in, followed by a cart loaded with French loot, Ralph saw immediately that the defensive walls had long ago fallen into disrepair. He wondered whether he should restore them. The burgers of Normandy had neglected their defences, by and large, and that had made it relatively easy for Edward III to overrun them. On the other hand, the likelihood of an invasion of southern England was now very small. Early in the war, most of the French fleet had been wiped out at the port of Sluys, and thereafter the English had controlled the sea channel that separated the two countries. Apart from minor raids by freelance pirates, every battle since Sluys had been fought on French soil. On balance it hardly seemed worthwhile to rebuild the compound walls.
Several grooms appeared and took the horses. Ralph left Alan Fernhill to supervise the unloading, and walked towards his new house. He was limping: his injured leg always hurt after a long ride. Tench Hall was a stone-built manor house. It was impressive, he noted with satisfaction, though it needed repairs – not surprisingly, for it had remained unoccupied since Lady Matilda’s father died. However, it was modern in design. In old-fashioned houses, the lord’s private chamber was an afterthought stuck on to the end of the all-important great hall, but Ralph could see, from the outside, that here the domestic apartments took up half the building.
He entered the hall, and was annoyed to find Earl William there.
At the far end of the room was a large chair made of dark wood, elaborately carved with powerful symbols: angels and lions on the back and arms, snakes and monsters on the legs. It was obviously the chair of the lord of the manor. But William was sitting in it.
Much of Ralph’s pleasure evaporated. He could not enjoy his mastery of the new manor under the scrutiny of his own overlord. It would be like going to bed with a woman while her husband listened outside the door.
He masked his displeasure and formally greeted Earl William. The earl introduced the man standing next to him. “This is Daniel, who has been bailiff here for twenty years, and has taken good care of the place, on my father’s behalf, during Tilly’s minority.”
Ralph acknowledged the bailiff stiffly. William’s message was clear: he wanted Ralph to let Daniel continue in the job. But Daniel had been Earl Roland’s man and now he would be Earl William’s. Ralph had no intention of letting his domain be managed by the earl’s man. His bailiff would be loyal to him alone.
William waited expectantly for Ralph to say something about Daniel. However, Ralph was not going to have that discussion. Ten years ago he would have jumped feet first into an argument, but he had learned a lot in the time he had spent with the king. He was not obliged to get his earl’s approval for his choice of bailiff, so he would not seek it. He would say nothing until William had gone, then he would tell Daniel he was being assigned to other duties.
Both William and Ralph remained stubbornly silent for a few moments, then the deadlock was broken. A large door opened at the domestic end of the hall and the tall, elegant figure of Lady Philippa came in. It was many years since Ralph had seen her, but his youthful passion returned with a shock that felt like a punch, leaving him breathless. She was older – she had to be forty, he guessed – but she was in her prime. Perhaps she was a little heavier than he remembered, her hips more rounded, her breasts fuller, but that only added to her allure. She still walked like a queen. As always, the sight of her made him ask resentfully why he could not have a wife like that.
In the past she had barely deigned to notice his presence, but today she smiled and shook his hand and said: “Are you getting to know Daniel?”
She, too, wanted him to continue to employ the earl’s retainer – that was why she was being courteous. All the more reason to get rid of the man, he thought with secret relish. “I’ve just arrived,” he said noncommittally.