Her Norman Downfall

Her Norman Downfall

Copyright 2014 Becky Lunt

Published by Becky Lunt at Smashwords

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Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

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About Becky Lunt

Prologue

15th October 1066 - Senlac Hill

There was both a sense of sobriety and merriment amongst the men and women that were gathered at the site of the destruction below. This gruesome vision was once the Saxon King Harold’s army. Whoever survived the initial campaign, either English or Saxon, had fled in fear during the course of the great bloody and brutal battle. The first golden rays of light peeped over the far horizon, casting what would normally have been a heavenly glow across the countryside. However with this dawn, the yellow tinge highlighted the fallen, bloody bodies of the Duke’s foe. Looking down from the very top of Senlac Hill, Egmont Fitzgrigg, a knighted Norman, could hear the pained cries of the wounded soldiers abandoned on the battle field and the open, hysterical weeping of new widows. The unearthly noise froze the blood in his battle wearied body and weighed heavily in his heart. Many great men on both sides of this battle died yesterday, in the belief that their sacrifice and bravery would ensure one man’s right to the English throne. Behind him, rising from his lord’s camp, Egmont could hear the cheers of a night long celebration from the invading Norman army - his people. The cheerful noise was almost a welcome distraction.

The fires that had burned brightly all night, had since started to die, and the cowardly, thieving filth of this land had commenced scavenging through the lifeless, bloody corpses. He could see them desecrating the bodies of brave Saxon, English and Norman soldiers, men and boys that would never be claimed or buried with dignity. The women below tried their best to deter the criminals, but they had no weapons and no strength to fend them off. Egmont shook his head in disgust at the shameless sight before him. A slight shuffling noise invaded his hearing and his hand grasped the hilt of his strong sword before he turned. A disheveled young squire waited patiently to deliver a message. In his hands, the young boy held a grey surcoat displaying the yellow Fitzgrigg coat of arms sewn across the breast. Three vibrant yellow lions stood out amongst the dark grey of the mantle.

‘Milord, you’ve been summoned to the Duke’s council,’ the faithful squire bowed his head and waited for Egmont to step forward, before helping him into the clean garment and then the boy moved aside while Egmont sauntered past. He hurried after his master, falling in behind like a faithful dog.

It was more than a quarter of an hour later that the exhausted and sweat covered cavalry knight entered through the wide opening of his Duke’s largest tent. It was lit brightly by the fire blazing in the iron grill stand at the entrance and many strategically placed candelabras. The most senior and respected knights, with trusted and loyal advisers were gathered around the table where William the Conqueror sat. All faces were familiar to him for some reason or another, but the face that stood apart from the rest was that of the feared and mighty Ivan Wyvill. His gruesome nose suddenly wrinkled as if smelling something rotten as Egmont paused in the middle of the tent but his eyes did not leave the parchment spread across the wooden table. The old mercenary was once a great friend of his father's and spent much time visiting his family when Egmont was a mere boy. Sir Wyvill had been his father's first choice as teacher when Egmont was to start squiring at fifteen summers, but at the time, it appeared the old man could not be bothered with a friend's son as a burden. Harsh words had been exchanged on both sides but some insults could not be forgotten so easily.

‘Sire, you sent for me?’ He lowered himself to his knee, rested his forearm across it and bowed his head in homage to his lord.

‘Egmont Fitzgrigg, I have missed you at my table.’ The Duke of Normandy stood slowly and let the folds of his blue robes fall around his booted feet. His eyes roved steadily over the young knight and he raised a gloved hand to scratch at his chin.

‘My deepest apologies, my liege, I thought it best to tend to our wounded and dead personally, so you could converse with your trusted knights and noblemen without hindrance.’ Egmont spoke without moving more than his lips.

‘Of your thoughtfulness I had been informed. Many gathered in my presence were most happy to advise me of your task, but it does not change the fact that you were missed.’ The Norman leader spared an exhausted smile for his young knight, to show that his words were not meant to scold. ‘Come. Walk with me some.’ The Duke commanded, making his way around the table to stand beside the knight. Egmont was a hulk of a man standing beside his soon to be crowned king. The Duke was taller than his average men at five foot eleven but Egmont stood proudly at six foot seven, almost a good head taller. While Egmont’s skin was tanned from time under the sun, William’s was pale and chalky from his time at court. The Duke’s clean shaven, round face and manicured brown hair, provided unquestionable authority, while his chilling brown eyes had the potential to strike fear into the very heart of any man. Duke William had discarded his armour and helmet, while Egmont was carrying his silver domed helmet under his left arm. The knight’s leggings and bindings were stained with dirt and blood, and his dirty hauberk was covered by his newly cleaned surcoat, while William’s was clean with no signs of the battle he had participated in. Together they walked out of the tent and strolled through the worn paths between others. A small number of knights and guards followed behind, but remained a discreet distance away; each was alert and prepared for any signs of danger to their ruler.

‘My Lord,’ Egmont prompted quietly.

‘After our victory at Senlac Hill, I have decided it best to return my forces to the coast to await reinforcements and supplies. I then intend to lead my army towards Dover. I fear that taking the London Road is my best option into the city itself. I am concerned however, about the possibility of attack from all sides. My scouts were unable to run down the enemy deserters and I have our informants attempting to identify the nobles from commoners amongst the dead as we speak. I am hoping that the nobles in the south who did not meet us here, will yield to me before we march, but must make preparations should they not.’ Duke William's penetrating stare roamed his makeshift camp. ‘Tracks from the Hill show an unknown number on foot circling towards the coastline of Pevensey, where we landed. You will take a small force of your men and follow the tracks. If you do not discover them, follow the road to Southampton and then commence north. Smother any resistance with strength and recruit well amongst the locals.

Two corpses identified so far are that of the Thane, Bawdewyn Oswald and the Sherriff of Fyfield, a man called Cedric. I have been told that these were nobles of the highest esteem and their families held great sway in this strange land. I am informed that together, they were the owners of much land in that area and now leave behind a grieving widow each and much regarded offspring. It is my wish that these bodies be returned to their families where they may be honoured as the gentlemen they were and entrust that you deliver them in safety to their halls as part of your mission. I do not expect you in London until I summon you however will send word to advise you of any change to my intensions. Any that still deny me my rule will be taken as prisoner and escorted to London for a public hearing, but that will be for more callous men than you, my fine young friend. As reward for your loyalty and bravery, I am giving you claim to any appealing land on your journey and a Saxon noblewoman for bride. Choose well and present her to me so I may give my blessings.’

‘I thank you Sire, but you know that I have no interest in taking a wife. I will complete my duty with honour and eagerly await your word to journey to the city itself but after your crown is secure, I hope that you will allow me to return home.’ Egmont was astounded at his master’s generosity, for at the age of twenty five he was considerably younger than the other battle proven knights. Perhaps that was why the king's favoured killer had frowned at his arrival. Land, title and a good woman was all a true knight had ever aimed for in his service to the Duke and Egmont’s had been similar, at one time. Sadly that was no longer the case as he did not care to take these rewards in a foreign land, far away from his family home. There were other things to do, than wait around for his gifted trophy Saxon wife to slice his throat during the darkness. It would do little now to detail these thoughts to his soon to be king. His father and grandfather before that had been trusted knights and advisers to the Normandy claim. It was his honour to serve such a worthy leader, and by acting honourably during his service, Egmont himself had forged a reputation with his ruler.

‘Regardless of your intentions, Fitzgrigg, the only way to ensure that there is no challenge to my rightful rule is to convince the inhabitants of this land that I am not a man to tolerate any defiance. Having their young daughters committed in marriage to my best men will give rise to this claim for if any rebellion occurs, such wives would be in the unhappy position to bear the full force of a man's wrath if I deem it so.’ William stared at Egmont until the young knight nodded his head and lowered his eyes to the ground; Egmont understood the threat well enough. ‘Good, very good. I have other knights to send in northern directions but at each manor you cross, you must deliver my message and hope for a peaceful occupation, that way there can be no denial of my claims. After the news of Godwinson’s death has spread, there will be fear and uncertainty amongst the villages, so it is vital that you appease these feelings. As the new protector, I will hear all petitions to the crown, for I only take what is rightfully mine, but this battle has given the country many new widows and fatherless offspring.’ Duke William signaled once with a lifting of his fingers and a scribe came forward with a tightly rolled scroll of parchment in his hand. ‘This is to be read at each manor before any hostilities begin. I hope very much that there is no resistance for you but feel that it will fall otherwise. Prepare your men for an immediate departure and may the arch angel Michael watch over you on this perilous journey.’

‘Yes my lord.’ The distinguished young knight bowed respectfully as Duke William turned and left his council. Egmont's brow furrowed in deep concentration at the task before him, for it was fraught with danger that gave him an uneasy feeling. A force of fifty men would be conspicuous moving across the country and with the unknown terrain they would be exposed to ambush, but for them to carry the lifeless forms of two Saxon nobles in their convoy would incite immediate retribution or at the least, violent attempts to retrieve the bodies from the enemy. The fleeing soldiers had enough time to regroup or join forces with the English nobles that had not joined the first battle and may very well now be plotting their revenge.

Chapter One

3rd November 1066 – Oswald Manor, Oswaldcombeham

‘My sweet babies, I fear your father has fallen in battle and will not be returning to us.’ Lady Audrey Oswald advised tearfully to her two children. Her blonde hair now streaked with grey was uncharacteristically uncovered and hung straight down to the middle of her back. The lady's skin was pale against the vividness of her green eyes and red lips. ‘We have not heard any news other than the battle has been fought and won by the invaders and that even our great Harold has been killed.’ Lady Audrey paused to take a gasp of air hidden under the sound of a gentle sob. Her eyes lifted to the un-curtained window before she continued with her sad statement. ‘We have two choices available to us; the first being to leave our home and find safety somewhere or the second is to stay and prepare for our surrender of this manor.’ Lady Audrey returned her eyes and gazed sadly into the faces of her beloved offspring before raising her shaking hand to cover her tear-filled eyes.

‘If we were to leave, where would we go?’ Asked her daughter. The young girl frowned at her distraught mother as they sat in the small family solar of Oswald Manor. The room was lit a dull orange by a combination of flames from a cosy fire in the middle of the dirt floor and the rays of late afternoon sun shining through the window. Lady Audrey sat hunched in her wide chair, covered in bright pieces of material, while the other two occupants sat comfortably on large cushions and furs laid closely at her feet. She removed her hand and looked to the faces of her precious children; although only one was still of a child’s age. Her daughter was a grown woman and in danger of being ordered into an unwanted marriage to a member of the invading Normans, awarded for some act of brutality considered bravery amongst their enemy.

Lady Audrey considered the prospects of her beloved children, Catherine was so shy and felt only comfort here amongst those she had known all her life but was also so full of love and compassion when not so fearful of expressing it. How would a stranger be able to understand her shyness? See it for something more than withdrawn distain? Her son Aidan faced a danger of a more fatal kind, for if her husband was truly dead, he was now the new Thane of these lands. Lady Audrey sobbed with a new feeling of panic. She had accepted the defeat of her king and ruler, Harold Godwinson, and was aware that there was no other heir capable of saving her people. He and his loyal band of brothers were now confirmed as being amongst the dead, and her own beloved husband had marched with all his housecarls with none returning to protect the manor. Without these protectors, it would open the way for the invading noblemen to seek a prize wife of her fair daughter and Catherine had been renowned as the best in this county. Lady Audrey considered Catherine’s soft words and raised her eyes to the heavens in contemplation.

‘We would go to my brother’s….estate.’ There had been no news of his fate either. ‘Cedric had made provisions for his family should the worst have happened and he was gracious enough to extend the plan to include us.’ Lady Audrey whimpered, as she raised a lace kerchief to her reddened eyes.

‘I should have been there too.’ Stormed the eleven year old boy. Aidan was willowy, skinny with long limbs combined with blond hair and his mother’s eyes. Lady Audrey straightened her shoulders to offer a rebuke to his angry words but it was Catherine who replied, her voice soft and soothing. She placed a gentle hand upon his skinny thigh and squeezed it reassuringly.

‘Hush brother, you should not be saying that. See how it upsets us all so. Surely you see that if you had been with papa, you would have suffered the same fate beside him. Think what that would have done to all of us. You are the man of the house now and Mother’s protector. Your place is by her side for you are the new Thane by birthright.’

Aidan moved quietly and knelt beside his mother’s chair and placed his head in her lap. ‘I am sorry Mama.’ He whispered between sniffles. Lady Audrey placed her hand on his head and smoothed his blonde hair around his ear.

‘I know you are sorry, my baby; and I know that you are angry and upset, but we cannot fight amongst ourselves now. There may be darker days in store for us.’

‘Are you sure that leaving is the right thing Mother?’ Catherine asked, her soft and resonate voice waved a little with her apprehension.

‘I am not sure of either of our alternatives. If we leave, our convoy could be besieged on the road by traitors and thieves, but if we stay …...’ Lady Audrey could not finish the sentence from the fear swelling inside. Her soft hands and fingers interlocked with her emotions in turmoil.

‘I believe our better option would be to stay, Mama.’ Catherine offered tentatively, ‘here we have the walls of the manor to offer some protection to us rather than an unknown danger upon an unfamiliar road. Without my father's soldiers, we would be an easy target for cutthroats and outlaws.’ She did not voice her fear of what could happen should they be attacked on the journey. Catherine fully understood the fate that could befall them either way and clearly preferred her chances in the hands of the enemy. ‘As you say, either choice holds a danger to us, but perhaps the new Norman overlord that claims this land will show leniency for our position and title. I have little doubt that thieves and murderers would not offer such considerations.’ Lady Audrey searched her daughter’s face and found the underlying signs of fear she had expected from her, Catherine’s face was pale, her eyes dull and her lips had thinned with tension. It was quite possible that her own fate had already been sealed as the wife of a great Thane, but a mother’s first instinct was to protect her offspring.

‘There is no need to look upon me with such scrutiny Mother, for it will be as God intends,’ Catherine’s gentle hands clasped in front of her chest. Her voice and words were a comfort but the look in her eyes as the beautiful young maiden looked about the room betrayed her fearful thoughts. Whatever the choice, it was imperative that they all stay together and protect the new Thane of Oswaldcombeham. His young life was at risk with the inheritance of a man’s title. For him to survive this invasion, they would have to accept this Norman invader as king and convince both him and his emissaries that they had nothing to fear from the boy with the man’s title. The three Oswalds’ sat in a depressed silence until a young maid cleared her throat politely to make her presence known and then announce the night meal was ready. As with every meal since the men folk marched to war, the whole house staff ate with the family in the echoing and empty grand hall and provided what comfort and support they could rather than serving them in their darkest of hours.

The next morning Catherine was awakened by her young chamber maid opening the bedchamber door.

‘Come in Anne and tell me what troubles you.’ Catherine called softly from the bed.

‘If only I was not so frightened I would.’ Anne hurried across to the bed and drew her mistress’s warm body into a loving and desperate embrace. ‘My sweet Lady Catherine, I cannot shake this foreboding feeling in my heart.’

‘Could it be your grief for my papa?’ By some twist of fate, Anne had been given the gift of predicting the future. The young servant had felt the danger her master was in and had warned him before he left, however it was the only time her premonitions had been ignored.

‘I do not know!’ Anne confessed with anxiety. ‘I feel that your destiny has changed, as well as mine, but I cannot tell if it has already happened.’

‘I do not have the ability to see the future or fight worthily for my king and country but you must trust my advice, just this one time,’ Catherine spoke, ‘These walls have provided well for us in the past and mama will panic if she were to see your fear. I might not have much to offer other than myself but it is better for me to marry the enemy to keep you all safe rather than continue to flee or fight.’ Catherine made a delicate sound that sounded like a brief chuckle. ‘I was never destined to be the kind of wife mother is, and I am not strong or beautiful, so I see it as fitting enough and only reasonable in these circumstances, to offer me to the enemy in exchange for our safety. Imagine the dreadful man’s surprise when he realises that his hard-won wife is nothing to boast about.’

‘Oh, my darling, how you see your qualities is not how others see them. You would make an extraordinary wife and mother.’ Anne argued, stroking Catherine’s loose hair.

‘Get dressed and come downstairs, breakfast is sure to be ready now.’ Anne left the room as quickly and as quietly as she had entered.

The young mistress dragged herself out of the bed and sat down upon a stool near the unlit fireplace. Catherine picked up the heavy silver hair bush and started to drag it down through the tangled knots gathered from sleep. A small looking glass sat squarely on the middle of her dressing table and as she gazed intently at her reflection, she smiled as she compared her own plain face to that of her mother’s everlasting beauty. It was easy for friends and strangers alike to show surprise at their relationship, for the only two things they had in common was the same family name. Audrey was a tall woman with a strong frame, emerald green eyes and sun streaked blonde hair hanging straight down her back when