Outside of my regular chores, the school took over most of my free time, many of the local children came, mostly boys, but there were a few girls. I managed to make tentative friends with some of them and had them call me Ranulf rather than the formal Master that I hated. I visited them at home too, and envied them their free and easy, friendly home-life. I couldn’t remember my father ever joining in with the childlike games that so absorbed us, he was always far too busy.
Wulfred was a good teacher and had travelled widely; he’d even been on a pilgrimage to Rome with the King’s late brother. The things that he had seen! With just a little of a child’s enquiring innocence, it was easy to start him off on tales from his travels. He told us of men with black skins and strange beasts that roamed free, some of them even more ferocious than our wild boar, although we could scarcely believe that that could be true. He told us of beautiful buildings, with painted ceilings and walls and statues that looked so real that they seemed to move.
Each of his stories made my mind dance away into new dreams. One day I’d travel. Perhaps in a great ship, I’d go to strange, far distant shores. I’d see the strange animals that Wulfred told us of, those that were as tall as a tree with mighty horns or those that were like giant cats, all black and shiny, with teeth as big as your finger. We never tired of his yarns, and it was always with reluctant hearts that we dragged our attention back to our lessons.
After supper, one darkly stormy night many months later, I lay in my bed by the fire listening to the old ones talking.
‘Of course, when we have our Burghs properly organised and with permanent armies to defend them, the Norse threat will become a thing of the past. They’ll go off where the pickings will be easier.’ said Lord Odda.
‘Nah.’ came a reply, ‘They’ll not go. Up north they’ve settled in, with houses and families, thousands of them. You’ll not be moving them so easy.’
‘That’s so.’ replied Odda impatiently. ‘But with careful handling they could be made to keep to their area and leave us be. The future needs men of education, men that can think and plan. Not plain speaking men of war, like us.’
The talk went on, tossing backwards and forwards around the same old subject and I dozed in the warmth of the crackling blaze. It was late and most of the old men had left, when mention of my name woke me instantly. Without moving my head I looked through my eyelashes to see my father talking with Edmund and maman.
‘I’ve a mind to take up his offer. Like I’ve been saying, the future needs men of the world. Men that can talk and govern. The King’s school will be good for him. He’s too mindful and full of dreamy thoughts to be a good warrior anyway.’
Edmund nodded thoughtfully in the gloom. ‘He does try, sometimes he tries very hard. But he always has such questions...Why this. Why that and How. But I think you’re probably right.’ he said, looking at me through the flickering flames.
‘But, the King’s school will only have the one scholar. Won’t our poor Ranny be lonely?’ asked mother.
‘We’ll send someone with him. But I doubt he’ll have time for loneliness. They say that the King has rooms and rooms, just full of books and drawings. But you’re right. We’ll send someone with him.’ he stood up and stretched, ‘That’s settled then. Come, we must get some sleep. We’ll go hunting tomorrow. Have everything ready for dawn Edmund.’
And away they went, leaving me beside the fire, almost quivering with excitement and nervous fear. A King’s messenger had called on father just that morning and now I knew why. I wondered if it would all be happening soon. Eventually I fell into a fitful, dream-filled sleep wondering and worrying how to tell father Wulfred.
Time wore by and winter thawed into spring, the raids by the passing Norsemen became more and more frequent, some were vicious and deeply probing, while others seemed to be purely provisioning stops. Some of the smaller communities along the sea’s wilder, more isolated shores had become involuntary traders with the foreign cut-throats and this was evidenced by an outbreak of red-haired children.
I was almost resigned to my fate when, using the messengers that called as they travelled to and from the King’s temporary court at Athelney, my future was eventually arranged. I was to go to study at Athelney’s small monastery under one of the monks. I secretly hoped to study the many travel journals and to find out all I could about ships and seafaring. I felt somehow that a destiny would tie me to the sea.
Edmund was to come with me as my guardian, that was good news, and he would also serve the King in the training of his new Burghal armies, as the greatest spearman of my father’s levy, he was well qualified. I knew him well and often sought his company, I was pleased to be leaving home in his care. And of course, leave I must! I was nearly twelve years old and almost a man.
The days struggled into weeks until I thought it would never really happen. But on my twelfth birthday, it happened. I was wildly nervous but full of expectation and enthusiasm. Bravely, I said my farewells to maman and my lord Odda then led Edmund and our pack pony along the herepath that would eventually lead us to Athelney and the temporary Wessex Court of King Alfred.
The day was typical of our home in late summer. The dust hung lazily in the sun and the air was heady with the scent of drying grass and the medicinal odour of the pine trees. We travelled through the quiet village of Stowey, some children waved from the schoolroom and I saw Wulfred cuff away a tear. My own eyes smarted, a lump was heavy in my throat and I daren’t look back.
Soon we turned onto another track and headed towards the hill fort called Cynwit, where we were to spend our first night. Although I had travelled past Cynwit many times with my father, I had never been inside its tall palisade walls and felt a little overawed by its towering appearance.
Edmund moved close and, in his matter-of-fact way, pulled me gently behind him. Quietly he said.
‘You will allow me to speak for the both of us Ranulf my lad. On no account...no matter what, give our true identity to anyone within these walls.’
He paused, thoughtfully looking at me. Before I could say anything Edmund scooped up a handful of dust and threw it onto my tunic and new breeches and, while I squirmed against his grip, squealing my complaint, he smeared some dirt across my face with his thumb. The big man stood back examining his work, as would a master mason, and his face broke into a beaming smile.
‘On second thoughts Ranny me-lad, don’t speak to anybody.’ he held his finger against my mouth as I tried to argue. ‘It’s market day at Cynwit and that means a regular feast of all things, and most of ‘em bad. So be on your guard. And if anybody should ask.’ he jerked his thumb at the pack-pony. ‘The beast is carrying turnips and herbs for your grandmother.’
I must have looked worried, Edmund put his hands on my shoulders and smiled. ‘You’ll be alright.’ he said. ‘Remember, not a word. You look like a traveller now, but when you speak, you certainly don’t sound like one.’
And we turned back towards the track that led up to the castle gateway. As we stepped off, he nodded at my hand, ‘Take that jewel off your finger lad. Put it in your mouth to keep it safe and tonight I will fix it to the leather thong about your neck.’
‘But, my lord Odda gave this ring to me so that I can be recognised as his son.’ I slipped it off and held it towards his eyes, ‘Look, on the face is the family crest from our shield, the Wolf’s Head.’
‘Aye Ranny me-lad, I well know what it is. Your father asked me if I thought you should have it, I thought not, but he said yes. Right at the moment, our passage will be best served if we remain unobserved. The place is full of thieves and I’d rather we didn’t give them an excuse to attend us.’ he explained patiently.
He plucked the ring from my fingers and, opening my jaw, popped it into my mouth. ‘Hold it thus young man, it will help you to still your clacking tongue.’
And away we went, Edmund leading and me guiding our pony. We had got half way to the gate when, with a gulp I pulled the large signet ring from my mouth.
‘Who told you that sometimes I was called Ranny?’ I asked, my cheeks warm with an embarrassed glow.
‘It is the name your father and I always use when we discuss your future and your hasty, excitable nature. Put the ring back into your mouth.’
We walked on in silence, I pondered on the meaning of a hasty nature while I looked about us. Just ahead was a small crowd of ragged looking people that seemed to press the castle’s entrance. Waiting for permission to enter I thought, and I assumed that we would probably join their line. But, as we marched along, Edmund swung in a wide arc away from this gathering and headed straight for the gate by following a higher path beside the tall palisade. I thought we were doing this to dodge past the orderly line of waiting people.
‘And he called me hasty!’ I grumbled to myself.
Then I saw a sight that drove all logical thoughts from my mind. One of the ragged figures broke ranks and stumbled towards us. His wailing cries were quite unintelligible, almost animal-like.
A small rock sailed down from the castle walls beside us and struck the poor fellow on the head. As he fell, the heavy cowl dropped from his head and shoulders. And there on the ground, staring at us, was a face with no mouth or nose. The yellowed skin and flesh covering the side of the grotesque face was sloughing away as far back as the remains of the ear. Where the mouth and nose should have been was a blackened hole glistening with an awful yellow discharge.
My legs felt suddenly wobbly and I was about to break into a panicked run when Edmund’s hand gripped my arm,
‘Walk carefully, and quickly.’ he commanded. ‘Do not look at them and above all don’t let them touch you. They are what’s known as Lepers, an awful living death.’
I could see now why the terrible creatures had seemed to be in a line, they were all standing just beyond the range of stones and other missiles that were regularly flung at them from the castle walls. The sight and the stench made me gag violently and I had to bite hard on the ring to keep control.
Eventually we reached the gate, I hadn’t dared to look behind to see if we were being followed in case one of the Lepers was there. My courage had failed me and I felt that I must have disgraced myself in front of Edmund. I dreaded the thought of having to come this way again. Surely something could be done for them I thought, they are our people after all. Perhaps father would have a few shelters put up for them. I was bursting with words and questions, but didn’t dare risk upsetting Edmund again.
Nobody challenged us from the gate-lodge but Edmund stopped and hammered against the sturdy gate with his heavy fist. Within seconds a poorly armed young man stumbled out of the narrow doorway, groping with the folds of his filthy tunic as he strove to hitch up his breeches.
‘What is the meaning of that!’ roared Edmund, pointing along the track behind us. ‘Have those wretched Lepers supplied with bread.’ Edmund prodded the sentry in the chest with a spear-like finger, ‘Then drive them back with some flaming torches and scorch the earth that they have been camping on.’
The young soldier spluttered. I could see that he was weighing up his chances if he was to argue with this burly fellow. He obviously decided that the chances were not balanced in his favour, because he grabbed at a torch and yelled for his fellow guards.
‘And don’t forget the bread!’ reminded Edmund over his shoulder as we pressed through the small crowd that had gathered to watch the sport.
Beyond the gate a welter of confused activity and noise greeted us. I didn’t know where to look first. There was the crackling smell of a huge pig roasting over an enormous pit of glowing coals, a filthy and curiously bent urchin scurried about turning the spit and tending the fire. There were dozens of stalls, some had roofs of coloured cloth and had been set up about a muddy square of grassy ground. The stallholders stood in front of their gaudy displays, belabouring the knots of lingering spectators with the benefits of their wares. The nearest one had rows upon rows of wine bottles, the contents of which were being sold by the cup.
I gazed around in amazement. Other sellers had bolts of cloth that had been dyed beautiful colours, some had piles upon piles of vegetables and polished fruits, and there was a baker with cakes and bread that made your stomach growl. From a far corner a coppered, ringing clatter gathered the attention of some smiling matrons. They were being expertly flattered and lured by a travelling tinker who must have been a master of his pan making trade.
In the centre of all this chaos, set up amid mud and puddles, were several contests of strength and skill. We could see men engaged in tournaments with the longstaff while others wrestled, with alternate applause and raucous jeers from the appreciative audiences. To one side of this jumble of struggling activity was a tall youth demonstrating the use of a new type of bow and arrow, gathered around him was an unruly bunch of youths who tried hard to put him off his aim.
Edmund marched on, head down, pushing our way through the throng, sweeping us past sights that I longed to gape at. I was about to remove the ring from my mouth and call out to him when a scrawny figure in tattered black rags and tall bonnet sprang from the crowd and swooped towards us.
Images leaped into my mind of the Leper colony and I began to look about for an escape route. Every direction was a wall of brash, loud people. Could no one see what was going to happen?
Edmund growled and made one long stride toward this gaunt spectre and his menacing attitude made the creature think twice. It stopped and began a grotesque hopping dance, shaking and pointing a rattle-stick at us.
‘Keep moving.’ called Edmund, as he took hold of the other side of the pony’s bridle and moved us forward. ‘He’s a necromancer, a wizard and some believe that he can steer luck, good and bad, in their direction...And they’ll pay for his services.’
I looked down, feeling with my free hand, for the shape of the small iron cross at my throat. Although outwardly we were Christians at my father’s house, I felt relieved at the touch of the cool base-metal. From the corner of my eye I noticed Edmund touch the ironwork at the hilt of his heavy broadsword.
Quickly, we passed out of the square and strode into a web of passageways that laced through the huddle of buildings that were clamped to the high ground of the castle’s centre.
Once we were away from the noise of the people below us and shrouded by the lengthening shadows of the alleys, Edmund stopped and turned a beaming face towards me.
‘Well now, Ranny my brave lad. That last stretch must have given you enough fuel for a year’s worth of dreams and nightmares.’ his horny hand fell on my shoulder, almost making me stagger. ‘You did well. Very well, your father will be proud of you.’
My mouth was as dry as salt and with difficulty I managed to make a few hoarsely garbled sounds.
Edmund’s brow wrinkled as his face flooded with concern, but his beaming grin cracked through his worry,
‘The ring you young donkey. Take the ring out of your mouth.’
The recent events had so vividly splashed across my young mind that I’d quite forgotten about my gag. Feeling foolish, I dropped the smooth golden lump into my trembling hand and clutched it tight.
My thoughts were in such turmoil that I couldn’t put them coherently into words, instead I just mumbled a thank you and tried to pull myself together. Slowly, I began to see the reality of castle life beyond the glimpse of the fair.
Gone were the exciting sights of jousting and colourful, beribboned Tinkers and the urchin’s roasting porker. In their place I was left with deeply impressed images of grotesque, deforming sickness, of the loathsome brashness in the pursuit of pleasure and profit, and an almost overwhelming stench of a jostling humanity and its sewage. Edmund was right when he described my experiences as fuel for the most wretched of dreams. With an effort I dragged my mind back from the edge of these disturbing thoughts.
‘Let’s get on.’ said Edmund. ‘We’ve still to find lodging at Bevan’s house and arrange our guide to cross the marshland.’
I glanced at the reddening light of the sun on the old walls. ‘I think I’d like to get indoors before evening settles.’ I said.
Edmund’s grin faded, he caught up the pony’s leading rein.
‘Perhaps I should have prepared you for that spectacle down below, but you’re such a thinker, I had a notion that you would worry yourself unnecessarily.’
I shrugged, then, in an effort to sound grown-up, added. ‘Let’s get on to Bevan’s, maybe he’ll have a jug or two of ale that we could help him with.’
Edmund, a curious smile about his lips, strode off, leading the way through the narrow, grimy alleys of the small village. The doorways to some of the houses were open and looking inside, I could see that not everyone lived in the clean orderly way in which we did at my father’s hall. The squalor openly displayed within some of the homes did nothing to dispel the impressions of these people that I’d formed at the fair ground.
‘I’ll be glad to leave here, even if it is to march through the marshes.’ I muttered half to myself.
At the end of a blind alley, Edmund stopped and knocked on the door of a tall narrow cottage. From somewhere deep within the walls came the bark of a dog. Moments later the shutters of a tiny upstairs window opened and a pretty young face, framed with a froth of curly blond hair, looked out.
‘Yes.’ she said, bluntly.
‘Er...me name is Edmund. If this is Bevan’s house, we are expected.’ said Edmund, sounding a little uncertain.
‘I see. Wait there, I will ask the Mistress.’ said the girl and disappeared.
‘I thought that you knew these people.’ I said accusingly to a suddenly sheepish looking Edmund.
‘Well, not exactly. But I think that you will find this place interesting, it’s certainly the cleanest house in the town. I should perhaps prepare you this time. You see...er...how can I put it....’
The door opened and the appearance of a robust lady interrupted his stuttering and rambling. She was dressed in a bright red filmy material that left little to the imagination.
She glanced at the burly soldier before her, and then squinted directly at me,
‘So, you must be our Ranulf.’ she looked me up and down. ‘Younger than we expected, but never mind. Come in, come in.’
She caught my hand and pulled me across the threshold. The hand was soft and strangely moist. I was speechless and quickly forming an idea of what Edmund’s explanation might have been.
‘Your man can take your luggage around back to the stable if you like. Little Sulya here will show you to your room.’
My last glimpse of Edmund that day was of his broad back, his shoulders shuddering with suppressed laughter, as he led our pony through a narrow side gate.
Sulya was a slightly built young girl of about my own age, she led me upstairs to a small room on the first floor. It was well furnished and smelled of the clean rushes, herbs and meadsweet that had been spread on the floor. In front of the heavy window drapes was a supper table that was all but groaning under the weight of its pies, ale and a bowl of fruit. I’d expected Edmund to join me, but according to my young guide, he would not be allowed upstairs. This was the residential area of a house that was obviously given over to the pursuit of some very human pleasures. She assured me that he would be well looked after and that she could take me to him anytime that I wished.
I thought it would probably be best not to ask any more questions. Not to avoid the risk of embarrassing Sulya, she seemed to be quite comfortable with her surroundings, but to avoid a more personal discomfort. It seemed likely that the next time I saw Edmund he would be tired and probably suffering a headache.
Sulya explained that if I should require anything during the night, she would be camping just outside my door. I tried to argue that this really wouldn’t be necessary but gave up quickly when I realised that her presence was as much for their security as mine.
The last thing that I remembered of that memorable evening was of falling into a deep and surprisingly peaceful sleep to the sound of music coming from a salon somewhere far below.