1066

On the third day I sensed a shift in the mood of the common folk. I asked about it. The common folk knew very little. What we heard was typical of Harold. His army passed through quickly. His force took only what food they absolutely required, but still there seemed something was amiss.

On the morning of the fourth day we got the news. The Normans had landed. They'd marched inland burning and ravaging everything in their path. The bastard knew Harold wouldn't allow it.

Midday of our fifth day back a traveler told us the awful news. The bastard had been intercepted near the town of Hastings. On a hill, he said the name was Senlac, Harold, his remaining housemen and thanes plus the fyrd stood and waited. He said the battle lasted a full day. Our tale teller said twice through a ruse the Normans lured the men of the fyrd away from their secure position atop the hill. Twice the Norman horse cut them to pieces.

Our tale teller was in tears as he described what he'd heard. It was with sadness the way he described how all King Harold's brothers perished. The outcome looked bleak; with the fyrd gone the Normans alternated arrows with horse attacks. The men on the hilltop became fewer and fewer. He described how they pressed ever more tightly under the banner of our king.

Still our messenger told us victory was near at hand. Mercia was only a few hours away. If Harold and his beleaguered band could hold out till sundown they'd carry the day the next morning. It was then some vengeful old god intervened.

It was as though it had been the twilight of the old gods, all that was good, all that was orderly, all that was Saxon was swept away. Just as the sun was about to set the tale teller told us our grand king looked up. In my mind's eye I could see his noble visage as he perused the last dying embers of the day. At that instant an errant arrow pierced him in the eye. Harold, King of all of England, my Harold the grandest lord of all Saxony, was killed just as the sun was set.

With Harold and all his brothers dead the rest lost heart. They broke and fled. The Norman horse rode them down and butchered them, butchered them all, killed every one. As I heard the story I wept. How could this be? My world, my whole world had been undone by a single arrow!

Owen looked at me, "What do we do now lord?"

I wiped my eyes, "First we go home. From here on we've got to be careful. We can't be caught on the open road."

I saw Owen's distress. I tried to cheer him, "See here Owen. There's another. There's the young atheling, the next heir. He's up and about somewhere. There's Mercia, There's Strathclyde. Essex still has able men. Who knows; there's Cornwall, Wales. Even Northhumbria can still muster a few."

Owen looked terribly downcast. I tried to give him cheer, "Come now Owen. All the Saxon realm didn't just disappear. We'll re-gather. By Christ we know who we are. We're not like those old Romans or the long gone Celtic tribes. We're Saxon. We're a great nation. We're here to stay. I tell you we're destined to one day rule all the known world! You watch! We're not done, not done yet, not by a long shot." Again I thought of the arrow, the damned arrow. There had to be a lesson there. Someday, some way, I was sure we'd learn from this.

I don't think he believed me. I wasn't sure if I believed it either. I only knew we had to get home. I had a wife, children, "Come on Owen. We've a lot to do."

And so the two of us, Owen and me, perhaps we were the last of a once great army; we started south again only now we were no longer soldiers in a victorious army. In truth, I wasn't sure just what we were.

++++++++++

Our next few days were somber, somber indeed. The further south we traveled the more evidence we found that the Normans were truly amongst us; everywhere we went, everywhere we looked we found the proof of Norman depravity. Rape and murder seemed commonplace. We found little cottages, poor farmers mostly, where no one was left alive. We found the remains of once prosperous home-sites; home-sites with storage and barns all now reduced to charred ruins.

At every site the first thing that accosted us was the smell, the smell of rotted or burned flesh, human flesh. We found no animals, no chickens, no livestock, all had been taken. We found the occasional dog, usually dead; an animal that had probably tried to defend its master.

It was apparent wherever the Normans found a man; he was killed, or I should say butchered. The women, when they were found still alive, told the same story. The Normans rode in at dawn, sometimes dusk, they'd immediately hunt down and kill any able bodied man, sometimes, so we were told, if the man offered any resistance he was beaten to the ground, tied, and then savagely tortured. The methods of torture were so dastardly I dare not mention them. Needless to say our new masters were ingenious in the ways they went about ending innocent lives.

I'd been told stories of myriad ways the Moors brutalized Christians and Jews in far off lands. At the time I thought the tales were fantasies designed to keep us faithful to the man who died for us. By the look of the things I saw now I thought the stories about the Moors seemed almost innocuous. The bodies of the men we found were treated with the savagery only a heathen could devise them, but it was our women; the women who suffered the most. At least once a man's suffering was done his soul went on, but the women were often left alive; alive with their frail womanly bodies carved into ribbons, their fleshy feminine parts torn apart by insidious devices invented just to cause pain.

Owen asked me, "Aelfwine what exactly is a breast ripper?"

I gazed at one particularly sickening sight and answered, "Don't ask. I've heard of them, but until now I never knew they ever existed. Let's pray we get home before... I couldn't go on."

Wherever we went it seemed the single hamlets, the smaller villages suffered the most. Larger sites and the small towns that we found at crossroads and such suffered less, some not at all. In one larger village we found out another bitter truth.

A few miles from our home village we chanced upon a cluster of homes where few men had been killed, and though most of the women had been sorely abused, none had been murdered. We were quietly pulled aside by an older man; the man by the look of him was of true Saxon blood.

The Old Saxon explained, "We had a priest in our village. He must have had prior contact with the Normans. Maybe through our last king Edward, who knows? Maybe through some other man of this or that pious order," he spat out the word pious as though it were the venom of some rare serpent, "I tell you houseman these priests conspire with the invader. Our local priest had our friar strangled; then he, the priest, rode off with the Normans. I heard from another man who'd escaped from a more distant village, not yours I think, the priest for his church had done the same."

I scratched my neck, "So you think the priestly community, being more politically astute, has aligned themselves with the invader at the cost of the people?"

He went on, "I say more. The priests and their fine churches have been untouched. I add their churches haven't been ransacked, but the friaries, not all, but it seems most, have been looted."

I considered the Old Saxon's words. It was true there'd always been a low level, but keen, rivalry between the wealthier priests and the less affluent friars. I thought I knew why too; the friars, most of them anyway, were closer to the common folk; the priests were more attuned to Rome. Of course, Saxons like me had no interest in Rome.

I gave the Old Saxon a rueful grin, "Thank you old man. I'll pay your words some heed when I get home."

The Old Saxon, ashen and grim faced, responded, "God speed, though I wonder now sometimes maybe the God of choice may not be this Jesus. I know from the old people, those who preceded me, King Alfred was a Christian man, and we should follow the example he set, but our ancestors...our ancestors had Gods the Jesus God couldn't stop."

I chased back my immediate doubts, "Old Saxon I've pondered these things myself from time to time. I admit these last days have given me pause, but there's a man in my shire. I think he might have the answers I need. First though I must see to my family."

The Old Saxon placed a fixed smile on his lips and waved us good bye.

++++++++++

As we got closer to our village the sights and smells seemed more intermittent. In some places clusters of two or three houses were completely wiped out; in others, things seemed untouched. My thought on this was our village was further south; perhaps the Normans hadn't felt quite as keenly on the booty so close on after the Hastings fight. Mayhap they'd been somewhat less sure?

Nigh on the village I pulled Owen aside. We were well off the road, but I was still worried, "See here Owen. You're a younger man, a stripling still by the look of you. The weather's cooler so keeping your sleeves well down won't cause suspicion. You go on ahead. Slip quietly in the village. Visit the forge first, then the stables. Be discreet. Go unnoticed. Quietly confer with Donnell the forge master and then old Edwy at the stables. Find out all you can. I'll be at Edgar's; you know the place in the forest."

Owen sighed, "I'll do as you say. I'll slip in the town, but must I go to Edgar's? He's a mean one. He's always frightened me."

"Owen," I admonished, "You're a warrior; you proved yourself in battle just days ago. You can triumph over all your fears. Edgar is a mighty soldier. Though he broke a leg in a fight and preferred a life of isolation he's always been a good man, a man of honor. He'll not harm you or me."

Owen nodded, "Very well. I'll do as you say."

So Owen took to the road and started off for our town while I took deeper into the forest to find Edgar. Edgar had been our father's friend, and in his day a mighty man. He'd had bad luck. While fighting a band of brigands he'd fallen down a stream bank and broke his leg at mid-thigh. He was fortunate to have lived. Our thane, good Aidan, had offered him a place in the village. Aidan I was told wanted him nearby to help train the younger boys, but Edgar chose the forest. His wife, a good woman, much younger then he went with him.

His wife, a girl named Meghan, had her own story. First Meghan was at one time a true beauty, but she'd been allotted to marry a much older man. Meghan's father had aspirations, and the older man was a trader of some considerable wealth. Meghan defied her father. The local priest, a man called Seaton, presumably because he once lived near the sea, ordered that she obey her father. She refused, so while her father held her the priest took a length of chain and beat her. Their intent was to persuade her to obey her father and marry the man of his choice.

Meghan was vehement. No amount of whipping could turn her head. Eventually they realized she wouldn't be persuaded and they gave up. Regrettably the chain links had crossed her face a few times spoiling her good looks. After that, few men showed any interest. Edgar, noble man that he was, took pity on her and offered to be her husband. Since Edgar at the time was a great man, and I'm told much sought after by the women, his choice was a surprise to many. I knew him well, and though older when I first met him it was easy to see his countenance looked well in a woman's eyes. Still, many wondered why he'd choose a girl of such ill-temper, not to mention a girl who'd been so sorely damaged. He must have known something. They married, and from the first day she was like a kitten to him, but people had to be wary, she could fly off at even the slightest disparage toward her man.

Together they'd lived a quiet life. His wife had built him a blind at a place well-traveled by wild game, and from there he hunted while his woman foraged for berries and made jewelry for the girls in the town. It was a hard life, and though they had no children who lived, they seemed happy.

I had to be careful as I passed through the woods. The old oak forest near Edgar's place was said to be filled with fairies and other sorts of spirit people.

I reached Edgar's, or what was left of it, near sundown. The Normans had been there. I found his mutilated body near the cottage. His poor young wife was nowhere about. I grabbed an old hoe and shovel and paced off about a hundred till I was near some brush. I looked about; this was as good a place as any. I spent the rest of the waning afternoon sun digging his grave. I went back, found a sheet of old cloth, and piled as many parts as I could find on it. I pulled the heavy cloth to the hole, rolled him in, filled it back with dirt, and covered the spot with brush. I made no marker, but left a rock so, if sometime in the future I came back I'd know where to place a cross or something on it.

I said a brief prayer. It was nonsense mostly, but I thought Edgar was worth at least a few words.

I sat down and thought about the fairies. My wife and I had three babes; two were alive when I left. The third, well she'd died just a few days after we got her. Godyfa and I did what most people do. We wrapped our infant girl in a soft blanket, carried her deep in the forest where I dug out a deep hole. We placed her in it, cried a little, prayed over her, and back filled the hole with earth. We'd named her. I dare not mention what we called her; she might be nearby. We did this in the hope of someday seeing her again.

Godyfa hopes that she one day might get her back and raise her up properly. I think that's why Jesus is a good God; he offers us this second chance. If it's true, and I hope it is, Godyfa and I will be most grateful. We love children. It takes almost a year to make one, and I and my wife found it hard to just give a little one up after so much time. Our people lose a lot of children, but not so many as in olden times.

Edgar and Meghan had a small supply of food; mostly sacks of barley and a few well-ripened pieces of wild pig. I kept quiet, and ate and slept for two days. I considered if by the third day I hadn't seen Owen I'd have to go to town myself. I was in luck. Owen showed up the night of my second day. I heard him scrabble his way through the brush and trees. I heard his loud whisper, "Aelfwine! Aelfwine are you there?"

I whispered back, "Over here."

He crept over. I asked, "What news?"

The story he told wasn't favorable, "You're woman is alive. You're two young ones are safely hidden in the forest with a few others. Your sister Osana and Edgar's wife Meghan, you remember her, they watch over them along with the hag Odella. Things aren't good Aelfwine."

"Tell me what you can. Should I go in?"

"I think so," but be warned, "Edwy is dead. The Normans came and started to inspect our master's horses. Edwy argued. They chopped off his head. The townsfolk said it made an awful mess," he grinned sheepishly, "but I think not so big a mess as we've seen," then Owen returned to sobriety, "Lord Aidan died on Senlac's hill," he paused, "Oh and Aelfwine, so did Wulfram your brother. And none of the fyrd that went out from our shire came back. There are almost no men in the village. Our priest, the pious one we mentioned when talking with the Old Saxon. What's his name, Seaton; he sits at our lord's table with his new Norman friends."

I listened, but hadn't heard what I really wanted, "Seaton," I muttered, "I never liked him. I was there when Meghan's father and Father Seaton gave her that thrashing. I thought he used too heavy a chain. There were lighter devices. He might have used a rope."

I cocked my head, "So what of my wife?"

Owen took a deep breath, "Would that you hadn't asked."

I feared the worst.

Own turned slightly. He looked away, "She sits at the great table too."

"What? I don't?"

"Aelfwine don't. Don't ask."

"Tell me Owen. She's my wife."

Owen fidgeted then spilled the kettle, "Aelfwine she's the new lord's whore. She sits with him, eats with him, and at night..."

I clapped my hands to my mouth, "No!"

"It's true lord. I saw her myself. She sits at his side. He gropes her in front of the people. He opens her bodice and fondles her..."

I was stunned, "This can't be true."

"It is my lord. She violates her sacred oath. She commits adultery every night. She's truly a fallen woman."

Though my stomach cried out; torn in knots it was, I still couldn't exactly believe what I'd heard. Not my wife, my good Godyfa, a wanton, a base harlot? I set those thoughts aside and pressed Owen for other things, "Tell me of this new lord. What's his name?"

I saw Owen was glad to change, he started, "His name is Geoffrey, Geoffrey of Rouen. He's one of William's chief lieutenants. He's been given all the lands in our shire plus two more. Right now he has four knights, plus another large group of men with him. I saw them. The knights; they also use your Godyfa. The lord Geoffrey hands her about. I saw it. It's disgraceful."

"Who are these others," I asked.

They're a mean lot Aelfwine. One is this Geoffrey's Seneschal. His name is Richard. They laugh and call him 'Richard the Bloody."

I quietly interrupted, "Seneschal you say." I'd heard the word before. The Seneschal was most commonly the lords second in command; his job was to perform the dirtiest deeds. It was the seneschal who served up the atrocities, while the lord sat back benignly.

Owen continued, "There are the three in addition to Richard and Geoffrey. There is Robert. They call him 'Robert the Fearless'. There is Hugh of Dancy. He's a vicious mercenary; I was told he's the worst of the pack, a truly evil man. The last is Henry of Dulac. This Henry is the least of them, they say he's a coward but who's highly placed in the court in Rouen. They say Henry kills the weak."

I pondered these things, "You say my children are safe. They're hidden. My wife has turned whore, and these new overlords are the scum of the continent."

Owen nodded, "That's about it. What do you intend to do?"

"Tell me Owen what of the rest of the people?"

"They've given up hope. They don't know you're still alive. I think most pray for some kind of deliverance. Lord Aelfwine you mustn't..."

"Mustn't I? I mustn't where my wife has become a wanton? My children hide in the forest? Good people I've known all my life live in fear? Both my brothers and my lord Aidan dead? Men of true nobility like old Edwy and Edgar murdered? My honor compromised? Grant me this Owen. Go back into the town. Find out who isn't to be trusted. I'll need to know."

"I've already accomplished that. Our only enemy among the people is the priest. The others; well I lied maybe just a little. The people know you're nearby. They await you. Your very presence, though you're hidden deep in the forest, has restored them. To have one of their own..."

"And my wife?"

"I couldn't get near her."

I said, "I see. Well here's what you're to do. Go back into the town. Now listen on this carefully. I've given this thought. You're to go back. Say you've seen the coward Aelfwine. Say I've been cowering in the forest. Make certain everyone knows I'm a churlish knave, an unwholesome nobody, a witless fool with no intelligence. Someone people scoff and spurn. Make it secretly known that I was a helper at the forge. That will explain my muscularity and my scars."

Owen looked puzzled, "Lord I don't understand?"

"Come Owen. If I went back as I am; a warrior, a Saxon knight; they'd kill me at first glance. Then what could I do? But if I go back a fool, a stupid but strong oaf; I'll soon be overlooked."

Owen nodded in understanding, "Then you can..."

"Don't get ahead of me. I'm still not sure where this will take us. Now rest tonight. Go back tomorrow. Quietly spread the word. Oh and Owen, find a way that this gets back to Godyfa."