Shepherd Warrior: A Young Saxon's Battle Against the Mighty Norman Army

© 2007 David T. Peckham. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 8/20/2007

ISBN: 978-1-4343-1333-1 (sc)

ISBN: 9781463463335 (ebk)

Printed in the United States of America

Bloomington, Indiana

Contents

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

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

Chapter Twenty-five

Chapter Twenty-six

Chapter Twenty-seven

Chapter Twenty-eight

Chapter Twenty-nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-one

Chapter Thirty-two

Chapter Thirty-three

Chapter Thirty-four

Chapter Thirty-five

Chapter Thirty-six

Chapter Thirty-seven

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Dedicated to Katie, my wife, who has assisted in the final words of this story having read and critiqued the manuscript almost as often as I. Without her encouragement this story would never have found itself in this format.

INTRODUCTION

The Battle of Hastings, fought in A.D. 1066, was, without question, the most important event in British history. The conquering of England by William, Duke of Normandy, changed the way the inhabitants of the ˝Isle of Mist˝ had lived since the Roman Armies left their shores in A.D. 410.

The Duke of Normandy’s kingship was accepted by very few people although they reluctantly obeyed his laws and accepted his land management dictates. The Saxons formed many small bands of men whose new goal in life was to make the lives of the new king’s military, legal and religious appointees as difficult as possible.

One of the ways William insured that he held local authority was to build castles everywhere. These were often hurried affairs in a continental ˝motte and bailey˝ design, usually in wood, only later replaced with stone. Most were built with forced local labor on land confiscated from English rebels. The castles were given to Norman barons to hold for the king. In theory every inch of English land belonged to the crown and William’s vassals had to swear fealty directly to the crown.

The influence that 1066 had is still evident in Hastings. At least four generations of my family were born in Hastings including myself. Names such as The Conqueror’s Arms and The Red Dragon could be seen displayed as names for Public Houses; Conqueror’s Estate, William Road, and dozens of similar names reflecting this time in the history of Hastings were common place during my childhood—and little has changed.

My home was on Battle Road which leads from Hastings to Battle, the modern name for Santlache (Senlac) where Harold, King of England sought to defend the country from this Norman invader. My aunt lived at Senlac Gardens, less than half-a-mile from Battle Abbey which was constructed by William the Conqueror on the site of the Battle of Hastings. Today it is home to a private girls school, although, for a small entrance fee, the public are permitted to enter and view selected areas of the castle. A short car ride would take me to several castles such as Hastings, Pevensey and Bodiam, most built by William. Pevensey Castle was originally constructed about 340 A.D by the Romans toward the close of their 400 year occupancy of England. Pevensey was where William chose to land his invading forces in 1066 and he built his fort within the ruins of the original.

Hastings was one of five towns chosen to become a Cinque Port. Cinque Ports were responsible for the construction of ships and coin production for the crown and in return were offered immense tax breaks and other favors by the king. Cinque is French for five as there were originally five towns so designated: Hastings, Dover, Romney, Hythe and Sandwich.

So, as the reader can see, I was raised with history ringing in my ears. As a child it meant very little to me and I was evidence of the saying, ˝Familiarity breeds contempt.˝ It was not until years later, after I became a citizen of the United States, that the rich history of Hastings began to mean something to me.

William the Bastard, as he was known to both friend and foe, was intolerable to any weakness shown by those who served him and generous to those who served him well. He did not send his men into battle, he led them. He had a short temper accompanied by an all consuming vision to conquer and rule as much of Europe as his life span would permit.

He appointed Odo, his half-brother, as his Bishop, not because he felt the need of religion or God’s help, but because he felt those who served him would be more faithful to his cause if God was on their side.

The fictional side of this story revolves around a Saxon family who operated a sheep farm in Santlache, a small yet important village about seven miles from Hastings. Bruce, a widower, raised a daughter and three sons, each one involved in the operation of the farm. Their story becomes involved with the invading Norman army when their farm is ravished by soldiers looking for food to feed their 10,000 man army.

The combining of history and everyday life in the south of England provides an interesting and exciting foundation for the writing of Shepherd Warrior.

Chapter One

Falaise, Normandy

1028 A.D. – 1064 A.D.

The arrow found its mark, piercing the Frenchman’s forehead evenly between his eyes.

˝That’s how you take care of spies,˝ William smiled as he turned in his saddle and looked into the astonished eyes of his aide, ˝and that’s the way we’ll take care of all our enemies.˝

˝But Seigneur, that’s only one man and one arrow. Soon we’ll be facing thousands, every one dreaming of severing your head from your body.˝

˝Let them dream,˝ he shouted, thrusting his arms above his head, ˝for shortly their dreams will turn into nightmares. Heads will roll in the mud, but mine will not be among them!˝ His voice rose in pitch and volume, as if intending an invisible army to hear his words. After a brief moment of thought, William stared into the cloudless sky and, in a softer but determined voice, said, ˝We’ll crush all who oppose us, and the bow and arrow will fill their hearts with terror.˝

From the day of his birth William had exuded a fearless and angry nature. He left his mother’s womb with his fists clenched and needed not for the midwife to encourage him to cry. Flaming red hair covered his head and creases furrowed his forehead from the effort he placed into crying. It was as if the newborn baby knew he was a bastard child, for Robert and Herleve had never married.

Robert, the Sixth Duke of Normandy, looked on his son with obvious pride, ˝It looks as if we have given birth to a fighter,˝ he grinned.

˝It sounds like he’s angry to be born,˝ the midwife added. ˝I have been delivering babies for over thirty years and have never seen a newborn with such red hair and strong lungs. He’s only one hour old and already he sounds like a lion.˝

Hamon, his four year old cousin, squeezed his mother’s hand and said excitedly, ˝I like that name, I’m going to call him ˝Lion!˝

˝His name will be William,˝ Herleve said sternly, ˝that will be his name. I do not want you or anyone else tagging him with some foolish nickname.˝

Hamon backed into his mother’s skirts, taken aback by his auntie’s curt words.

˝You need your rest,˝ Robert said warmly as he leaned over and kissed Herleve on the forehead. ˝Do not go worrying your head over such things. In fact,˝ he said gruffly, ˝I want everyone out of the room except the midwife.˝

˝I don’t care,˝ Hamon muttered while being pushed unceremoniously through the door, ˝I’m going to call him Lion!˝

Hamon was true to his word. After all, he was four years older than his cousin and could call him anything he wanted. As William grew, he and Hamon became good friends. It was obvious to all who observed them that William, although smaller in stature, exhibited leadership tendencies and made most of the decisions. He allowed his cousin, and only his cousin, to call him Lion. When one of their friends mistakenly, and regrettably, called him Lion, he finished up with a bloody face or a broken nose.

At eight years of age William inherited his Father’s title, Duke of Normandy. Robert died while returning from a religious pilgrimage to Jerusalem, having been poisoned by his enemies. However, the young Duke was not without fatherly leadership and example. Robert’s brother, Gilbert, whose wife was unable to bare any more children, looked upon him as his own son. William and Hamon were inseparable. As he entered his teenage years he was to be found more at his uncle’s home than his own.

Gilbert taught them everything he knew about hand-to-hand fighting. It mattered not whether it was sword, lance, or ball and chain, the skills of the cousins excelled far beyond that of their friends. They were each other’s competition, but the moment William passed through puberty, his added strength gave him a decided edge both in skill and ability. Hamon did not hide his admiration for his cousin and willingly yielded to his leadership. He was unyielding in his defense, and their friends soon learned not to say anything derogatory about William within ear-shot of Hamon.

Throughout the next nineteen years, William faced and defeated all his enemies with increasing skill and devastation. His alliance with the King of France disintegrated, but he engineered friendship with the King of England and the Pope. The multitudes who swore allegiance to the Duke grew by legions, and his fearlessness inspired loyalty to his cause.

In the year 1064, Harold, King Edward’s brother-in-law and Earl of Wessex, visited William and, in the name of King Edward, promised him succession to the throne of England upon Edward’s death.

Peace reigned within the borders of Normandy, so William concentrated on wars outside his native land. He was not happy unless he was engaged in fighting either for his own cause or by aligning himself in the cause of others he considered allies. His reputation for making fair and just decisions grew. His ambitions bordered on fantasy and he was utterly ruthless in their fulfillment. Those who rose in opposition to the Bastard of Normandy were soon defeated and put to death. Now, at the age of thirty-nine, he had to make a decision that would forever change the course of history.

In January, 1066, after a brief illness, King Edward of England, died. Unbeknown to William, Edward had declared Harold, Earl of Wessex, his successor—the church confirmed him without question. The news reached Normandy very quickly.

For two years, William firmly believed he would succeed Edward as England’s king. His ancestry included, by marriage, a direct link to the English monarchy, and King Edward himself had promised he would succeed him to the throne.

˝The throne of England is my right,˝ stormed William. ˝It is my right, it is my destiny!˝ he screamed. ˝Are the promises of a king worth nothing?˝

The news of Harold’s coronation as King of England spread throughout Normandy and France like a fire in a parched forest. William, Duke of Normandy, betrayed and embarrassed before his followers, fumed like a mad man upon receiving the news. His body trembled with anger and a look of pure rage darted from his steely, defiant eyes.

˝In the name of all that’s sacred, I’ll hoist Harold’s head on my lance for his treachery. He swore fealty to me. He made an oath. He will die.˝

He slammed his clenched fist into the table and wine goblets scattered across the floor. William’s voice dropped as he pondered his recent visit to Rome where he had received the sanction and blessing of the Pope for him to become the next successor to the throne of England.

˝The Pope gave me his blessing and assured me of God’s protection.˝ He stopped pacing and his anger changed to a look of determination. ˝I will not allow that arrogant heathen to thwart my right to the English throne,˝ he growled between clenched teeth. ˝Tomorrow I will begin preparations to invade England.˝

For the next three months, William planned and schemed on how he could overthrow Harold. The prospect of invading England and destroying the Saxon usurper utterly consumed him. He thought of little else.

Chapter Two

Santlache, England.

January 6, 1066

The door of the tavern swung open and the huge frame of the man who stood there blocked most of the light. Talking ceased as all eyes transfixed on the stranger.

˝Either come in or leave, friend,˝ the barkeep said calmly. ˝It’s mighty cold out there and you’re letting some of it in.˝

The man stepped inside and closed the door. He wore a heavy brown cloak and hood that covered most of his head and face. One would have mistaken him for a priest had it not been for the large scabbard and sword that hung from his waist. Two daggers, held in place by a carved leather belt, hugged his huge girth.

˝My apologies, I have ridden hard for three hours and my horse and I have built up a sweat. I hardly felt the cold.˝ The large man’s husky, soft voice belied his stature. His words were those of an educated man with no trace of the local dialect.

˝What brings you this way that you should have ridden so hard?˝ The barkeep skillfully slid a tankard of ale down the length of the wooden bar. ˝What’s your name?˝

With equal skill, the stranger caught the tankard and in one smooth movement gulped the ale without taking a breath. ˝Fill it again,˝ he said as he slid the tankard back to the barkeep. ˝My name is Eldin. Some call me Eldin the Vanquisher.˝

The room filled with mutterings as if he had unexpectedly revealed a secret. Mugs scraped across the tables, and men coughed nervously as they cleared their throats.

Eldin pushed the hood off his head and revealed a crop of blond hair that cascaded down between his shoulder blades. His moustache was full and turned downward, and his heavy eyebrows protected thunderous steel-gray eyes.

A voice came from the back of the room, ˝Eldin the Vanquisher, is that really you?˝ Bruce Hampton stood and walked slowly toward the stranger, disbelief in his voice and eyes. ˝I thought you were long dead.˝

˝Bruce Hampton, do my eyes deceive me?˝ The big man tossed his head back and laughed. ˝I have not set eye on you for, what is it, ten years since?˝

The two men embraced in the middle of the room. ˝Careful, you’ll crush my ribs,˝ Bruce grunted.

Eldin relaxed and held him at arms length. ˝It is good to see you again,˝ he smiled, revealing a row of broken teeth.

˝What brings you this way?˝ Bruce asked excitedly, ˝On your way to Hastings?˝

˝Yes, but I hoped I could find a meal and bed here for the night.˝

˝You’re not staying here. No offense barkeep.˝ Bruce turned and smiled at the man behind the counter. ˝My home is just outside the village. We have much of which to speak. You will stay with me for the night and get a good nights rest. That’s hard to do with all these drunkards yelling throughout the night.˝

˝Your company will be enjoyed,˝ Eldin smiled, ˝but first, another ale.˝

˝At least one more, if my memory serves me right.˝ Bruce turned and beckoned his sons to join him.

Reginald, Derek, and Cedric rose from their table in the corner and made their way to where Eldin stood with his arm around their father’s shoulders. Bruce was seventy-four inches tall but his friend dwarfed him.

˝By the gods,˝ Eldin exclaimed as he reached forward and cupped Cedric’s chin in his huge hand, ˝there’s no doubt as to who your father is - looks like they chipped you from the same block of granite.˝

˝They say I look like my mother,˝ Cedric said.

˝I remember,˝ Eldin said softly.

˝You knew her?˝

˝If your father had not married her, I would have. He asked her first,˝ Eldin remarked with a chuckle. ˝Let’s sit down and I’ll buy you all a round.˝

Bruce lifted his refilled tankard. ˝Here’s to renewed friendships. May they never again be lost.˝

˝I remember you,˝ Reginald said, ˝but I’m not sure if it is from memory or from the tales, exaggerated, I’m sure, that father never ceased to tell about you.˝

˝I never exaggerated,˝ Bruce came to his own defense. ˝Eldin was a king’s champion, and bedded more lasses than I ate breakfasts.˝

˝Now that is an exaggeration,˝ Eldin smiled as he gulped another mouthful of ale, ˝at least the part about being a king’s champion.˝ He roared from the depths of his belly. ˝I haven’t laughed like this for a long time. I almost forgot why I’m headed for Hastings.˝

˝You never answered me before when I asked you why you are traveling south,˝ Bruce reminded him.

The smile left Eldin’s weather burned face. He took a deep breath and looked Bruce in the eye. ˝The king is dead,˝ he said simply. ˝I’ve been charged with the duty of officially informing the city councils of Hastings, Rye, and Dover. Hastings is my first stop. I carry sealed messages from the Witan.˝

˝I knew he was ill,˝ Bruce said. ˝I have soon returned from London where I attended the dedication of the West Minster. The king was too ill to attend the consecration of his life’s ambition.˝

˝Yes, I was with him at that time. He could not move. Most of the time he was unconscious.˝

˝Then who is king?˝ Cedric asked.

˝On his death bed, Edward selected Harold Godwinson as his successor. Having no children himself, he chose his brother-in-law. At least he kept the crown in the family.˝

˝But didn’t Edward promise William of Normandy the throne upon his death?˝ Bruce added.

˝Yes, that fact is well known,˝ Eldin continued. ˝However, the ruling committee accepted Edward’s final wish and Harold was crowned while Edward’s body was still warm.˝

˝Then what of William, Duke of Normandy?˝

˝No one knows for sure. Knowing the Duke as I do, he’ll be madder than a wounded boar. He has built his plans around the knowledge he would one day be king of England. I do not think he’ll take the news quietly. I’m sure this is why the Witan has sent messages to these southern towns. England needs to increase the number of ships in case we have to defend our shores.˝

˝You’re not suggesting we may go to war?˝ Reginald asked anxiously. ˝England hasn’t seen a real war since Edward became king over forty-four years ago.˝

˝All I’m saying,˝ Eldin lowered his voice, ˝is that William is hot tempered and will not take this broken promise lightly.˝

˝Didn’t Harold Godwinson himself take that message to William in the first place?˝ Bruce asked.

˝That’s the irony of the whole thing,˝ Eldin said.

˝Should we be worried about an invasion?˝ Reginald questioned.

˝It’s a very real possibility. Other than that, I know nothing. Did you say you have a bed for me tonight?˝ Eldin stood and walked toward the door, curtly closing the conversation. ˝I must make an early start in the morning. The council meets at ten o’clock and I want to be on their threshold when they do.˝

The slow ride to the Hampton’s home was somber. Each one mulled over the possible consequences of a Norman invasion.

Derek broke the silence. ˝Can Hastings defend itself against the likes of William?˝

˝It’s the largest port on the south coast and has done a good job defending itself in the past,˝ Bruce replied.

˝I agree,˝ Eldin added, ˝but fishing boats can offer little resistance to William’s navy. Most of our fleet is in the north because of invasion rumors there.˝

The Hampton’s farm was only seven miles from Hastings, and the road to London skirted its fence line.

˝Why would the king break his promise?˝ Cedric asked. ˝Father, you’ve always said that an honest man’s word is final. A man can be trusted on how well he keeps his promises. Does this not apply to kings and earls?˝

˝Shut up!˝ Reginald snapped. ˝What do you know about these things?˝

˝Cedric has as much right to question the king’s actions as you do,˝ Bruce said firmly. ˝In fact, he has asked a very compelling question. People could always trust King Edward’s word. I do not know what happened. Perhaps his mind was confused toward the end of his life.˝

˝There are those who hold that opinion,˝ Eldin responded. ˝At the end he kept slipping in and out of consciousness. He said some strange things. We did not always understand what he meant. Just before he died, he told us of a dream where he met two monks who had been dead many years. They told him that for the sins of the earls and churchmen of England God had cursed the country. Demons would come through the land with fire and sword and war. God would only cease to punish England when a green tree, felled half-way up its trunk, should join itself together again by its own efforts, without the aid of man, and break into leaf and fruit again.˝

˝The king was a very religious man,˝ Bruce said solemnly. ˝Perhaps he did have a vision.˝

˝The Archbishop does not believe in visions. He became very angry and stormed out of the room.˝

˝But Christianity is filled with visions.˝

˝That was not the reason for his anger. He took the king’s dream personally and was angry because the king accused him and other churchmen of wickedness.˝

˝It is well known that men of the cloth say one thing and do another,˝ Reginald muttered. Only last year our local priest was murdered by an outraged farmer who caught him in adultery with his wife.˝

˝Most of the coins given by poor folks line the priest’s pockets,˝ Derek enjoined, not wanting to be left out of the conversation.

˝But what did Edward say about Harold becoming the next king? If there’s going to be a war it will be over that, not over a stupid dream or the dishonesty of the priests,˝ Cedric interjected.

˝He thanked his wife for all she had done, and then he took Harold by the hand and said, ‘I commend this woman and all the kingdom to your protection.’ He told Harold he wanted to be buried in the West Minster, and then fell into another coma from which he never recovered.˝

˝Harold is the king’s brother-in-law,˝ Derek said defensively.

˝And Duke William is his cousin,˝ Bruce added.

˝But Earl Harold was the one who delivered the king’s promise to William in the first place. Surely he remembered his promise? I’m confused.˝ Cedric frowned.

˝I told you to keep your mouth closed, little brother,˝ Reginald snapped again. ˝What makes you think you could understand these things when men can’t?˝

Bruce stopped in his tracks and looked Reginald in the eye, ˝And why do you find it so difficult to be civil to your brother? I will hear no more of this bickering.˝

Reginald muttered something unintelligible under his breath and kicked a small rock into the foliage.

Cedric and his brother did not talk much and, when they did, they always had a difference of opinion. Reginald resented Cedric from the day he was born. As the eldest child, he felt a sense of importance, but when Cedric arrived on the scene, he received all the attention. The one thing they shared was an unabashed zest for life and adventure, even though life as a shepherd did not provide many opportunities for exploration. Dreams and fantasies fired his inquisitive spirit, and the stories of travelers, who used the Inn as a watering hole, fed the flame.

Anna, Bruce’s only daughter, dozed off in her chair and one of her father’s torn shirts lay crumpled in her lap. The threaded needle had fallen to the floor. Two candles flickered on the nearby table providing very little light, but sufficient for her to work on the never-ending pile of torn clothing. The creaking door woke her when her Father and brothers walked in.

˝Anna,˝ Bruce announced as Eldin entered the room, ˝we have a guest for the night. I want you to meet an old friend of mine, someone you have heard me speak of many times. This is Eldin the Vanquisher. Eldin, this is Anna, my second born.˝

Eldin walked over, took Anna by the hand, and slowly lifted it to his lips. ˝What a pleasure it is to meet you,˝ he said, not letting go of her hand.

˝The pleasure is all mine,˝ Anna smiled. ˝I thought you were a creation of my father’s imagination. Every time he speaks of you, your deeds become greater. Only the other day he was telling us that you once defeated five Saxons and seven Normans in one day at the king’s tournament. Then you still had the strength to entertain two ladies that night.˝

Eldin released Anna’s hand and turned toward Bruce. ˝There, I told you so, this is a good example of your exaggeration, it was only six Normans.˝ His contagious laughter filled the room, bouncing off the walls.

˝The king is dead,˝ Cedric blurted out. He flashed a cold, defiant look at Reginald. He could not understand how they could make jokes when Eldin bore such sad news. Times like this drove him into seclusion. Everyone, except his father, thought him to be aloof, indifferent to every day happenings. He preferred to be alone with his thoughts in the company of his horse and dogs. Life did not make sense. If God loves people, why does He let them suffer? Why did his mother die so young, and leave them to fend for themselves? What makes Reginald hate him so? His dogs show him more love and concern than his brother. Why does the hawk pluck the innocent skylark from the air? Why is there so much violence? He was not satisfied with his father’s answers to these and many other questions. He could not believe God ordained things to be the way they are, and we have to accept them without question.

˝That is sad news,˝ Anna said quietly, ˝but father did say he was very ill.˝

˝We may go to war,˝ Cedric continued.˝

˝War! Why?˝

Reginald moved to Anna’s side, pushing Cedric so hard he nearly fell down. ˝Don’t worry your head about it now,˝ he said brusquely, ˝You know how Cedric gets carried away. I’ll explain everything to you later.˝

˝Are you hungry?˝ Anna asked, breaking the tension that had quickly filled the room. ˝There’s mutton stew and dumplings simmering in the pot.˝

˝I’m glad you asked, that aroma was driving me wild,˝ Eldin said, pleased to get off the subject. ˝There’s nothing like food cooked at home by a loving lady, and, if you’re half the cook your mother was, it will be excellent.˝

˝That’s right,˝ Anna said as she began ladling the stew into five bowls, ˝I had forgotten you knew my mother.˝

˝Yes, and if I didn’t know better I would think you were she. You have her looks. She was a very beautiful woman.˝

˝Why, thank you sir,˝ Anna curtsied, ˝I don’t get many compliments around here.˝ Her blush went unnoticed in the candlelight.

Nobody noticed when Cedric moved toward the door and went to the barn. There he could find solace and unmitigated acceptance.

The next morning before dawn, Eldin slipped quietly away from the Hampton’s home and made his way up the hill toward Hastings. The path took him into the village and past the Black Horse Tavern where a handful of louts lay sprawled in a drunken stupor on the frozen ground.

Chapter Three

Santlache, England

March 1066

The harsh winter passed without any unexpected hardships. The early lambs were already skipping on the lush green pasture of the Santlache valley that March of 1066. Spring brought its new life early and the birds busily searched for just the right materials to build their nests. The forest floor, tinted yellow and blue with the early blooming of primroses and bluebells, spread out before the traveler like a giant quilt. Merchants, traveling from London to Hastings, had multiplied over the past fortnight much to the delight of local merchants and innkeepers. The pounding of many horse’s hooves on the hard-beaten earth and the creaking of wooden carts, loaded with grain that had been stored in silos throughout the winter, made the storms of recent months fade into memory.

Cedric watched through the open-shuttered window as a slight breeze swayed the newly blooming crocus and snow-drops growing in the window box of the Black Horse Tavern. This was his favorite time of the year when life miraculously sprang out of death. Color poked its way through the stark white of winter. Birds revived their songs and ewes grew large with young.

It was early morning. A damp chill rode the slight breeze. This was the only time Cedric enjoyed being with his brothers at the tavern, after the overnight lodgers had left on their journeys and before the locals wandered in for their first tankard of the day. Tension between Reginald and him continued, and the astringent stench of pottage combined with rowdy, sweaty men was not conducive to relaxation. He preferred the serenity of the forest where the silence was broken only by the singing of birds and the occasional howl of a wolf.

˝How does it feel to have survived your first real winter?˝ Derek asked.

I was very pleased that we only worked in eight hour shifts,˝ Cedric smiled. ˝I feel like a wolf after his first kill. There were plenty of times I wished I was somewhere else, but right now I feel ... I don’t know, it’s hard to explain how I do feel.˝

˝I remember the feeling. Father finally lets you work the flock without watching over your shoulder all the time, but you live in constant fear that something is going to go wrong and you won’t be able to handle it. You had a hard winter, but you’re fortunate, it was a short one.˝

˝We lost seven sheep.˝

˝Sure, but they were old. Sheep die every winter. That’s not anyone’s fault. Besides, they make for good mutton stew. You did a good job Cedric, and I know Father’s proud of you.˝

˝What is there to be proud of?˝ Reginald sneered, always looking for a way to put down his young brother. ˝We all do the same job.˝ Derek winked at his younger brother and ran his fingers through his hair. Cedric could always count on Derek’s compassion and understanding.

Their eyes focused on a cart hauled by an old gray mule that turned lazily toward the inn. The driver, a large man, laid the reins across the back of the mule, not bothering to secure the tired animal, which stretched forward and gulped gallons of water from the algae covered trough.

˝Looks like the animal couldn’t run off even if he had a mind to.˝ Cedric snickered. ˝He must be a hundred years old.˝

˝If you had to pull a loaded cart and a man who weighs three hundredweight, you’d be worn out too,˝ Reginald said coldly.

Cedric arched his eyebrows and swallowed more ale.

The driver brushed his hands over his well-worn homespun coat, more as a matter of habit than with any real intention of removing the grime gathered during his journey. Once inside, he ordered a beaker of water, and sat at an unoccupied wooden trestle.

˝Good evening, stranger,˝ Reginald addressed him casually. ˝I’ve never seen you in here before.˝

A full head of long, snowy white hair enveloped the man’s sun-roughened cheeks. His eyes remained expressionless as he gazed around the room. The dark swelling beneath his eyes showed proof of exhaustion.

˝This is my first time in these parts. Usually trade in Hailsham, but my pullets will fetch more in Hastings.˝

˝Hastings is the biggest market in Wessex,˝ Reginald joined. ˝Last time I was there I saw some Norman traders. Selling different kinds of cloth they were. Norman dogs,˝ he growled between tightened lips, ˝wish they’d stay where they belong, in their own country.˝

˝What d’yer have against them Normans?˝ the stranger asked.

˝They’re nothing but trouble,˝ Reginald continued. ˝They think they’re better than anyone else. Walk around with their noses in the air, they do. A good rain and they’d all drown.˝

With that the stranger laughed, spurting a mouthful of water across the trestle.

Encouraged by the success of his last comment, Reginald continued his slight on Normans. ˝That’s why God made different countries—to keep them Norman knaves from coming over here, but some idiot taught them how to build boats.˝ The stranger slammed his beaker on the trestle, spilled his water and tossed his head back and laughed uncontrollably.

˝If you’re not a jongleur, you should be,˝ he snorted. ˝You’re a funny man.˝

˝Nay, my brothers, father and I are shepherds. It’s all we’ve ever known.˝

The stranger turned to Cedric, ˝Where do you run your flock?˝ he asked.

˝Here in the valley.˝ Reginald interrupted before Cedric could answer. ˝Our father is known as Bruce the Good and we run nine hundred sheep on ten hides of land.˝

The stranger ran his fingers through the long strands of his beard then opened his eyes widely. ˝That name I’ve heard before. Is he not a thegn owning fealty directly to King Harold?˝

˝That’s our father,˝ Cedric said proudly.

˝Folk speak of your father with great respect.˝

˝Bringing the London road through Santlache was his idea,˝ Cedric added proudly. ˝He is also responsible for the building of this inn.˝

The stranger drained the rest of his water. ˝There’s talk around that the king may appoint him an earldom. Someone has to replace Harold.˝

˝Rumors abound, but that’s all they are, rumors.˝ Reginald scowled.

Cedric placed his right foot on the trestle bench, leaned forward, and introduced himself. ˝My name is Cedric, and these are my brothers, Derek and Reginald.˝

˝They call me Alrid,˝ the stranger smiled, revealing dark stained teeth which were accentuated by his white beard. ˝Years ago they called me Alrid the Brute.˝

˝I can understand why,˝ Derek smiled. ˝You are a big one. Can I buy you an ale? A traveling man needs more than water.˝

˝Aye, my thanks to you. A splash of ale will do this body good.˝ Alrid smiled self-consciously, his deep brown eyes pained with embarrassment. ˝In my time I could out-wrestle, out-throw and out-lift all challengers, but time is a vulture. Can’t do things I want to anymore.˝ He turned to Reginald, ˝You make me think of myself when I was your age. Haven’t seen you at any tournaments.˝

Reginald waved for the barkeeper to bring a fresh tankard of ale. ˝I don’t have time to travel. Too busy taking care of sheep. I’ve taken part in small tournaments like Santlache and Sedlescombe, but nothing of importance. I’m undefeated so far.˝

˝With your strong body you’d do well at larger tournaments. Could put extra coins in your coffer, to say nothing of winning the affection of pretty women. It’s a shame to waste talent like yours.˝

˝We’ve told him that hundreds of times,˝ Cedric interjected.

˝From whence do you hail?˝ Reginald asked, purposely ignoring his brother.

˝I have two hides of land just this side of Hailsham. Not much left to trade with after paying taxes and feeding villeins.˝

˝Two hides. Means you’ve earned somebody’s favor.˝

˝It means I was good in the tournaments. Still would be if my bones would allow it. I started competing for Godwin, and then for Harold when he became Earldorman of Wessex. I never married, although I’ve won the favors of high-bred ladies and churls in my day. Being a champion has its rewards,˝ he chuckled. ˝When I couldn’t compete any more, I was put out to pasture. There’s no place in the king’s fyrd if you can’t do your job. Harold gave me two hides and I’ve been working the land ever since.˝

˝Why didn’t he keep you to train his housecarls?˝

Alrid flashed a diffident smile. ˝I got caught.˝

˝Caught doing what?˝ Reginald asked.

˝Caught bedding a woman of nobility.˝ His chuckle graduated into roaring laughter. ˝It wasn’t funny then, but it is when I tell it to you.˝

˝Why did Harold grant you land?˝ Reginald sputtered.

˝Because my friends begged him to. I was sentenced to hang, but because I was the king’s champion and popular among nobility and peasants, Harold gave me one hide. A second hide was given me four years ago. Most folk don’t know it, but deep inside that barrel chest of his, Harold has a soft spot for his friends and those he admires.˝

˝Alrid. Alrid the Disgraced!˝ Reginald said in a milder tone, recognizing the stranger’s testimony. ˝I’ve heard tales of you. I thought you were a mere story passed on by weary travelers.˝

˝Unfortunately not. I went from being the king’s champion to horse dung. At least, I’m alive to tell the story.˝

˝They still speak of your feats in training. ˝Alrid did this—Alrid did that—the reason Alrid kept winning was because he did ... well, his accomplishments are legendary!˝ Reginald gushed like an excited child.

˝So, after fifteen years they still speak of me,˝ Alrid grinned. ˝At least they speak of the good things.˝

˝It is strange that you should pass by here,˝ Cedric said. ˝Only three months ago we met Eldin the Vanquisher. He stopped by on his way to Hastings.˝

˝I know him well,˝ Alrid smiled. ˝Our paths crossed many times. We have experienced a similar life but in different times. King Edward wanted us to meet in a tournament, but I’ve been too old for that stuff for some time.˝ Alrid gulped the rest of his ale and wiped the foam from his lips with his sleeve. ˝We’ve talked most of the day away but I can put two more miles behind me before dusk, so I’ll wish you both well, and ... thanks for the entertainment.˝

He rose to leave but Reginald stood in his way. ˝Listen, why don’t you stay with us this night? We live with our father and sister less than a mile from here. Your mule’s already sleeping. You can leave at daybreak.˝

˝You don’t want to be known as the ones who took in Alrid the Disgraced. Besides, I know your father. At one time he was very good to me, but, with my reputation, I don’t think he’d want me sleeping under his roof. I must be off now before the landlord discovers who I am and kicks my backside half way to Hastings.˝

˝When will you pass this way on your return?˝

˝Two days.˝

˝We’ll be here. Stop in and we’ll buy you an ale.˝

˝I’ll see you then.˝ Alrid brushed his way passed the three brothers, unaware of the admiration he had stirred in their souls.

Their steps exhibited a buoyant springiness as they took the short cut home through the woods. Tego, Cedric’s favorite dog, crashed through the undergrowth, scaring squirrels and birds alike. The scent of fresh growth filled the still air, and birds were singing their final cantatas before going to roost for the night.

˝I can’t believe we just spoke with Alrid the Disgraced,˝ Reginald said briskly. ˝He used to be the greatest knight in the realm, and now he’s clothed in rags and struggling to survive. He couldn’t afford to buy himself an ale. He probably doesn’t have two farthings in his purse.˝

˝I like him,˝ Cedric said solemnly, ˝I know he got what he deserved, but I still feel sorry for him.˝

˝He deserved to hang,˝ Reginald said brusquely. ˝He’s fortunate he lived in Harold’s favor. Men are hanged for less every day.˝

Cedric ducked a low hanging branch, snatched a piece of tall grass and began sucking on the juicy end. ˝Why do you wish to meet with him on his way back?˝

˝Not that