Chapter 3: Home Alone

(Lady Alwen Archer of Oaklea, pregnant wife of Will Archer, narrates)

I’m interviewing a steward for the Oaklea Manor farm estate, when Beth, the undermaid, returns from the village, raising the hue and cry at the Manor House’s front door and entrance hall. She announces that a messenger from the Castle is lately arrived at the inn, talking about the plague that besets the nearby Shire town of Bartown, next to the Castle, a good half a day’s walk from Oaklea. I overhear part of the girl’s babbling, but I must continue with my interview. And I must still my beating heart, too, for I know my husband well and that he will do his duty, whatever the cost to him, and the cost that I may have to bear without him.

“Do you have any difficulty with taking instructions about the business of the Home Farm from a woman, and in dealing with the tenancies upon the manor estate?” I ask, though certain in my mind that this man is the Steward I would happily choose for the position we have, but I must have his admittance, so I might see the truth in his face.

He colours slightly, but stiffens his back, sitting upright and, looking me in the eye, “My previous estate involved mostly dealing with my master’s second eldest son, who was more interested in the deer park and hunting, than crops or unchecked encroachments by certain tenants. Usually, they were the New Normans, relatives of the Duke’s Mistress. Only when they were sure they had my replacement coming, another New Norman, did the Mistress take command of my instructions, more to frustrate me into leaving of my own accord than remaining until the bitter end.” He puts his hands on the table, palms down and relaxes the tenseness developing in his shoulders. “His Lordship, Sir William, is well respected in this county, despite his short tenure of a year in the post of Reeve. You too, have shown by the sharpness of your questions and their subordinates, and in turn the acceptance of my answers, that you have an acute awareness of your lands, your tenants and the requirements you have of a Steward who will manage the wellbeing of your manor as seamlessly as if you were still doing it yourself.”

I nod in response. He continues, this time more certain in his speech and wearing a hint of smile.

“I see that the reason for contracting a Manor Estate Steward, my Lady, is your impending confinement. I recall your conversation earlier that you had thus far failed to find someone suitable for a five-year appointment. It would be my intention, if appointed for that period, to make my position indispensable to you, so you would find it impossible to give me up when you no longer have babies to raise.

“I know I would be free to work on plans and schemes to improve your estate. My plans I know would be considered on their merits here and not ignored, as they have come from a Saxon rather than a Norman, as I have endured of late. I would love to work here with you and your Lordship, were you to find me and my experiences as you would expect.”

I mull over his reply. I know that, with the baby coming within the next seven weeks, I can’t manage to run both the Inn at Oaklea and our large estate, as they should be run. Over the next two years I will devote myself solely to nursing my coming infant, purely because I want to. Besides, I hope this baby will be the first of several with my husband, he being returned to my bosom only as recently as last year. Though I fear he may soon be taken from me once again by this pestilence, which I will confront head on should it come to that.

As for the Inn, that is already in good hands. Two months ago, I appointed the very capable Stephen of Gloucester to run my Inn. He has turned out to be an efficient and honest manager of the large internal staff that run the hostelry; he is congenial with guests, yet demanding of provisioners.

My husband, Sir William Archer has increasingly had to attend to his Shire Reeve duties at the Castle in Bartown. This is because there has been so much recent uncertainty over the fate of the Crown. With the crown prince and the queen’s recent untimely deaths, there are moves afoot from uncoordinated bands of barons to challenge the King over the succession. Will has his work cut out collecting taxes. The people are reluctant to pay, thinking that should a new King reign, they will have to pay their dues a second time, so why bother to pay them in the first place at all? Will meanwhile thought it prudent to restore the Castle’s neglected defences and introduce a more vigorous regimen of training for the Castle’s men at arms. They were woefully neglected under Sir Giles, the old Reeve. He was able to make the refurbishments, and update their weaponry and armour, afforded without the extreme siphoning off of taxes that the previous Reeve felt compelled to steal from the King’s Exchequer. In a short time he has turned what he described as a rabble into a force he was proud to command. He has trusted them enough to leave them for three weeks, to travel the Spring archery tournaments with our son, Robin.

I complete my interview. If Geoffrey was surprised to face the questioning by the Lady of the Manor, rather than the Lord, he did not betray that through his attitude. I had started hopeful but now I am sure. I stand, and he rises too.

“I hope you will agree to join us as the Steward of our estates, Geoffrey. I gladly offer you the position in the names of Sir William and myself, the conditions as outlined earlier.” I hold out my right hand. “If you are minded to accept, when could you start?”

He stretches across the table and gentle presses his large rough hand against mine. “I have all my worldly possessions in a bundle left with your housekeeper, my wife and children also sit nervous in the kitchen awaiting my return. I can start immediately.”

“Very well then, a servant will show you to the cottage set aside for you. There are some furnishings in place, but most deficiencies you find may be met from spares in store. Anything else you need, let me know. My house carl will show you around the immediate environs, the dining hall, meal times, &c. If you have any dietary concerns, please address them to the day cook. We will meet tomorrow after breakfast and ride slowly around the manor, but now I must away to the Inn to gather the news of my husband and what is happening at the Castle next to Bartown.”

After the newly appointed Steward leaves, I reflect on the appointment for a moment. I do believe I have found the right agent to run the estate. By all accounts, Geoffrey of Monmouth was well thought of by the tenants in his previous position, but was forced out of his living on a whim. It was the attitude of his Norman Lord to a Saxon servant, and the awkward relationship which results from prejudices, and the emotions on both sides that result.

This sets me thinking about Will and the emotions I felt, all down the years we were apart. How I kept his precious memory alive as the perfect chivalrous knight! All through my youth and adult years, I thought of him at every turn: would he like these sleeves on my bliaut, the design of this accommodation, this flavour of ale, the spiciness of this meal? How I longed to share every meal with him, sharing with him every delightful thing that his son Robin did as a child. My life revolved around an imaginary world that had William Archer at the very centre it. I dreamed that one day I could find some unfathomable means to entice him back to my village of Oaklea. Of course, I heard word of him from time time from travellers marvelling at his skills, but never from him, and thereby was ever convinced that I had lost him forever, except within my fertile dreams.

The impetus to return him to my bosom came only after Rebecca, the daughter of Will’s late friend and Jewish banker, Jacob of York, had returned to the inn two winters ago, to announce her father had died over that winter.

Rebecca told me that she had found amongst his papers, all the many instructions and evidences of the extent of Will’s investments over many years in my family’s affairs leading to build up our fortunes. Until then I had only hoped in my dreams that he would return to me, by chance rather than design. I had no inkling that he had ever given me a second thought since he left. I was shocked to find that all the time I was thinking of him, he had been a constant, if distant, benefactor throughout his time away from us. He must have been thinking of us, but was he thinking of me? Rebecca’s information led me to believe that I only had to find a way to get him to return so I could tell him how much I loved him, had always loved him. I was sure in my imaginings that he would admit the same to me. What a happy day that was to be, I had thought, after we had overcome our little differences and misunderstandings!