CHAPTER XV

 

The Year 1119

September

 

Wandrille paused in the shade of the arcade. She instructed the pantler to pack baskets of fresh bread and honey, leftover meat from last night’s meal, a wheel of cheese, and jugs of cider for the ship builders.

“Captain Fitz Stephen is too polite to ask us for anything,” Wandrille said, “but we must see to the men’s comfort while they are working on our land. On such a hot day, I am sure they will enjoy a break. Pack the refreshments on the donkey, and I shall take them down to the oak grove myself.”

Among the oaks of the Great Forest, she found Thomas and Martin bent over a roll of vellum anchored open on each end by stones. “What is that which you study so intently that you do not hear me approach?” she asked.

Thomas looked up smiling. “Look, Martin, Wandrille arrives like a cool breeze, bringing bounty.”

“Come see,” Martin urged. “I was just showing Thomas my idea for the prow. We have agreed the figurehead should be a fierce lion.”

“How perfect,” Wandrille cried, “for the king is called the Lion of Justice.”

Thomas nodded. “Martin has a wonderful idea. He also plans to carve sea monsters, whales, and all manner of fish into the ship’s keel above the water line.”

“I can hardly hear you over all the noise,” Wandrille said. “Pray give your men respite, Thomas, and you and Martin rest in the shade with me.”

Thomas’ men were happy to take a break from their tedious work and enjoy the refreshments Lady Wandrille had brought them.

“I have never seen a sea monster,” Wandrille said, “but I should like to. How exciting that would be.” She looked up at the trees. “I am fascinated by how you are thinning the grove and floating the trees downstream to Barfleur, Thomas. How do you know which trees to use to build a ship?”

“The trees are an important part of my craft, Wandrille. The oaks with the low curving boughs make the best ribs, stem, and stern pieces. A nice thick trunk, like that tree over there, makes a perfect mast-fish.”

“What is a mast fish?” she asked.

“Just another name for a rudder.”

Wandrille said, “Why are those trees sitting in the water over there?”

“As we fell the trees, we keep them wet so the timber will not dry out and crack before it is used.”

“You use axes and wedges to cut the trees down?” She laughed. “You know my lord father was not happy that you commissioned his best village blacksmith to work on your ship.”

“I need the best. I work very closely with the blacksmith. He maintains the tools, forges new ones, and produces the thousands of wooden nails and roves that are used in the ship’s construction. Your father will forgive me when the ship sails and the smithy returns to his village.”

“This is all much more complicated than the small boats you used to build in our childhood, Thomas. You needed no blacksmith when we sailed the marshes on summer days like today.”

Thomas smiled. “There were no sea monsters in the marshes. This ship must navigate rougher seas.”

“What next?” Wandrille asked. “What happens after you cut the trees down?”

“We clean and split the timber right here where we cut it. Nothing is wasted, not even the shavings, which we use for our cooking fires. I supervise the felling of every tree myself, particularly the most important one which I will use to fashion the keel.”

“You really love all this, don’t you Thomas?” Wandrille looked around the camp, from the tents the men slept in to the soaking wood and the plans spread out on the ground before them.

Thomas said, “With me every ship is a labor of love, but especially this ship. Soon this year’s season will be over, but she will be ready to sail at the end of next season.”

Wandrille reached into the basket and broke off pieces of cheese which she handed to Thomas and Martin. “Your soul’s fire burns in your eyes when you speak of the White Ship,” she said. “I think it wonderful to have such purpose.”

Thomas pointed to a swan gliding gracefully down the river. “I will paint my ship as white as that swan,” he said.

“Thomas has shown me how he forms the ship’s planks by splitting logs radially using axes, chisels, and wooden or metal wedges,” Martin said. “The men split the logs in half, then into quarters and eighths until the trunk of one tree produces as many as twenty planks.”

“I had no idea so much went into building a ship,” Wandrille said.

“This ship shall be like no other,” said Thomas. “See how I cut the wood along the grain instead of across it to preserve the timber’s strength without compromising it. This produces thin, incredibly flexible planking that can be curved and twisted to form the ship’s hull.”

“When we were children,” Wandrille said, “you showed us how to read the stars, and how the sea birds help a ship sail across a sea, and how the sea can rock a ship in its arms like a mother does a child. You were born for this, Thomas, for even then you knew.”

“Sometimes those carefree days seem only yesterday,” Martin said. “And sometimes they seem long ago. The world has changed a great deal since we were children.”

Thomas wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. “One thing that never changes is the oppressive heat of summer. Should the days not be cooling by now?”

“Can you imagine fighting a battle in this weather, dressed in armor and chain mail?” Martin said. “It is a miracle King Henry’s army did not cook in the sun on the battlefield at Bremule. Now that the throne is secure for King Henry and the barons about to renew their homage to Prince William as Duke of Normandy, we can finally relax into a time of real peace. The king’s new code of chivalry is helping keep the fabric of society together.”

Wandrille nodded. “That is truly spoken. My parents always talk about how it was when Henry first claimed the throne of Normandy. The duchy was in a tragic condition. Brigands plagued the roads. Priests and servants of God were not honored, and the monasteries were being reduced to ashes. Priests had to go into hiding because their parishioners were slaying them and each other. We should thank God that Henry has made Normandy and her roads safe and restored her churches. Let Louis the Fat stay in Paris and rule France.”

The abbey bells tolled vespers. The haunting chanting of the monks echoed through the forest. Even the birds paused to listen.

Wandrille said, “That is true is it not, Martin? King Louis of France has been driven back to Paris?”

“Indeed,” he replied. And the travelers who brought me the news said the battle was not even planned. Both armies just happened to be raiding one another’s holdings when they accidentally encountered each other. Amazingly there were only three men killed of all the nine hundred who met on the battlefield at Bremule a fortnight ago.”

“That is hard to believe,” said Thomas.

“It was a bloody miracle. Such a battle is unheard of and can only be explained by the new code of chivalry. For one thing, all the knights were clad in chain mail, which protected them from injury, but the remarkable thing is that they spared each other on both sides out of fear of God and fellowship in arms. Apparently they were more concerned with capturing their foes than killing them.”

Thomas smiled. “Who has ever heard of such a battle?”

“It is unprecedented in history,” Martin said. “King Henry’s army numbered five hundred men to Louis the Fat’s four hundred knights. Yet of all those men, only three perished.”

Wandrille refilled their mugs with cider. “My father said that the king purchased King Louis’ standard from the knight who captured it for twenty silver marks. Then he turned around and sent back Louis’ horse, bridle, and saddle the next day after putting Louis the Fat to flight and capturing one hundred forty of his knights.”

“So,” Thomas said, “the King of France surrendered?”

Martin smiled. “Louis the Fat turned tail when his own men begged him to withdraw so as to avoid irreparable loss. They say he fled so fast he lost his way in the woods. King Henry now has the peace he wanted.”

“Let us hope the Lion of Justice’s peace will last,” said Wandrille.