‘Come on hound!’ I called to my dog.
The long legged, shaggy animal ambled across the yard towards me, his tail rolling in a circle with delight. He’d been raised as one of the hunting dogs, but as a pup he would always find something more interesting than the chase and had often got lost. The master of the pack was going to do away with him, as being useless, but I had pleaded with him to let me take him. He soon became my best friend and usually came everywhere with me. With the lowering sun beginning to cast slanting beams through the leafy roof of the forest, we set off up the hill towards the ridge that ran behind our homestead.
‘Don’t be late, Ranulf!’ Corisande called after us. ‘You’ve to practice your numbers tonight.’
I turned and raised my arm in a wave. She stood tall above the groups of workers, her bright, blond hair and shining green eyes marked her as different from the rest. Odda had rescued her from a slave market and brought her home. He’d set her up as his housekeeper at first, but to keep the other men away, he soon married her. He often said that it was the best thing he’d ever done.
Originally she’d been taken from her family in Gaul by a raiding band of Danes and could speak no English. But maman had learnt quickly and now she was my tutor in things like reading, writing and numbers. I knew of no other child that was so fortunate and it made most of the other boys suspicious and a little wary of me. In their ignorance, they suspected me of having a powerful knowledge that could harm or mock them.
Maman also had a wealth of folk-stories that she’d brought with her from her homeland, but my favourites were always those of the great King Arthur and his magic sword. Although he’d been a King of Britain, he’d also lived for a time across the sea, in Less Britain. In fact he’d grown up there with his guardian, the wizard Merlin. I’d heard these stories so many times that I knew them by heart and would often lose myself in daydreams imagining that I was one of the knights, riding to the aid of a besieged castle, flags streaming and hooves thundering.
As a family we were different too. We had to be clean, and always wear presentable clothes. “To set an example.” maman would often say with one of her determined nods. She meant well of course, but all this only increased the divide between me, the other children of the homestead and those in the village. There were no close relatives of a similar age, so I was alone for the better part of each day. Lord Odda was always busy with the affairs of the district so I hardly saw him most days. Edmund, Odda’s warrior lieutenant, usually had some time for me, but my best friend was my faithful dog. And now he bounded along ahead of me until we got to a tall oak that had been hollowed by its long years. I reached into the ancient cavity and brought out a pair of old breeches. I changed quickly, folding my good clothes and putting them safely into the hiding place. Then off we went again, though not so carefully now, up the steep hill heading for the place known as the Long Stone. This was a favourite spot of mine, the view of the countryside was magnificent and the tall standing stone stood brooding over it, like a ghost of the trees that must have stood here once, long ago.
Away to the north, across the sea, I could see the coast of Wales with its dark mountains lining the afternoon horizon. To the south and west were the rolling hills of our homelands with, in the far distance, the misty-blue shadows of the high plateau that lay at the edge of Dumnonia.
The piercing call of a Kite caught my attention and, moving across to the eastern flanks of my lookout, I watched a swooping, wheeling mob of these large birds as they dived onto the carcass of a sheep. They tore and ripped at the bloated body before rising into the surrounding trees at the edge of the forest with their prizes. On the ground, the feasting was soon joined by a party of cautiously lumbering crows, while high above, in the last remnant of blue, a handful of buzzards soared, waiting their turn at the evening meal. Behind it all, the marshes and saltings of the Somerset Levels sparkled with the warm colour of the late afternoon sun. Turning my gaze seaward, I frowned at the misty outline of Steepholme, even Arthur would find it difficult to deal with the evil that rested on that small island I thought.
All too soon, the sun began to redden and it was time for us to go. At full gallop, we ran down the steep hillside, bounding, leaping and jumping the obstacles that lay in the bracken and tall grass until, gasping for breath, we arrived back in the broadleaf woodland. I changed back into my good clothes and we headed towards home, carefully following the narrow pathway worn by the watchmen and the shepherds. As we walked, I instinctively recited the alphabet while my imagination wondered what mischief Merlin would weave had he been here.
~ ~ ~
I went to the chapel in the village a day or so later with maman, to listen to the priest. After the service was done, the sprightly old cleric came across to see maman. He bobbed his shiny bald head in a gesture of respect and brushed nervously at his shabby faded-black gown.
‘Some while ago, you spoke of some assistance for our village school my Lady...’ he said in his deeply resonant voice.
My ears pricked up at these words and I looked on, hopefully. He’d definitely said the word School. Dare I hope?
Maman smiled almost fondly at the ragged old priest and took up the hands-on-hips pose she used when she was going to make a judgement. Something quite familiar to me, and often had a personally painful result.
‘Indeed I did father Wulfred. I have discussed the matter with my husband, my Lord Odda, and we’ve decided to provide you with an allowance of one silver penny a month.’
‘Most generous milady.’ mumbled the delighted Wulfred, and he bobbed some more.
‘Wait, wait. I’ve not finished yet.’ she said patiently, ‘You will also be allowed the use of a strip of land and a milk cow.’
The poor monk had never known such generosity and, almost overcome, he dropped to one knee as he clutched at the rough wooden cross that hung from his neck. Several of the villagers had gathered to see what was going on and pressed closer to hear the details.
Undeterred, maman continued.
‘In return, you will teach as many children as will come to you. They will learn about our land and the Christian ways encouraged by our good King Alfred. And they will learn reading. Not Latin mark you, but good, simple English. You shall have them for two half days a week and you will provide them with milk to drink and a good meal before you send them home.’
‘I am speechless. My lady.’ muttered Wulfred.
‘An unusual circumstance.’ laughed my mother. ‘But what say you, Yea or Nay?’
‘It is more, much more than I could have wished. On behalf of the children my Lady, I offer my humble thanks, I will pray for you.’ then, embarrassed, he added hastily, ‘Oh...and for my most generous Lord Odda, of course.’’
‘Of course.’ Maman nodded. ‘The final condition is that you will also take my son, Ranulf. He will be a help, as he can read and write moderately well.’
‘Ma’am that would be an honour. I will go and make things ready. We will start tomorrow.’ and off he bustled as happy as a skylark. ‘See you in the morning, young master.’ he called over his shoulder.