King’s Man

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"Mes Enfants, it is time for me to settle the affairs of my estate. I am aging quickly. I do not know whether I will make God’s three score and ten. I wish for you to be provided. Your Mamma and I, we have a large brood. All your sisters are married off. All have an adequate existence. They will not starve. Your older brother will inherit our vineyard. When he was old enough to leave his mother’s knee, he went to the vines with me. Together we studied the vine, the grape and the wine. We only make the best. He is so prepared for the land, I believe wine runs in his veins not blood. We have cultivated this land for centuries. We were here before the Vikings. We were here before the Romans. My grandfather says we came on ships and taught the Gauls how to cultivate the grape. When the Romans conquered Gaul, they found the Trivetts quietly making wine for their ready market. We may have come from Rome or possibly we were Celts from Britain. Who knows?

Maintenant, mes petites hommes, your Mamma and I have to settle some of our estate on our two youngest. Many young men have entered the church and that is to your Mamma’s liking. Mais Non, it is not mine. The Duke of Normandy is a very ambitious man. He will not be satisfied with his little fiefdom. He is already gathering men for a conquest of some sort.

Your future looks brightest in the service of Duke William. You will be trained as pages, gentlemen and knights. I will support you with proceeds from the vineyard for weaponry, or chargers that William will not supply. Your brother has agreed that it is his responsibility in the event of my death.

I have bribed William with fine wine and money to take you into his household. You will swear undying allegiance to him, to serve him as he sees fit. You will be taught by him, disciplined by him and trained by him. Take heed. Your mother and I have spent much time preparing you for this and now you must spend much time preparing for your future.

You leave tomorrow for the Duke’s castle. God, go with you!"

The two lads chorused," Merci, Mon Pere."

The boys were dismissed with a backward wave of the hand and they escaped the presence of their father.

Thomas, the father, was an astute farmer and business man. His contracts were handshakes, but he never broke one. He was a man of his word. Consequently, he maintained a profit margin, not great, but constant. He was satisfied with his easy life and it didn’t do to flout your wealth as war lords were planning conquest.

Thomas was aging . He was developing the rotund belly and muscleless buttocks of an old man. His hair was thinning, not balding, but certainly it wasn’t the thatch the Trivett men usually displayed. He seldom dressed above his station although he could have afforded Duke William’s attire. His face was becoming grizzled as his beard whitened and he was not early to shave. He had a face, how shall I say, impossible to read. When he dealt in emotions, his face reflected little. His bushy eyebrows and heavy forehead seemed to forewarn a violent temper, and that became a guise for him to hold the exterior at bay. His gray-green hazel eyes revealed nothing. They may be windows of the soul, but not to Thomas. They seemed to reflect the viewer and the viewer searched his own being.

Now, he sat contemplatively at his desk. It wasn’t just a fixture; he actually used it. His father had had the foresight to send him to the monastery for some instruction in letters and numbers. He questioned his recent conversation. Being a parent was the only job in Normandy without apprenticeship. Your sexual drive, your genetic response to the perpetuation of mankind turned you into a father so ill-prepared. Only with exceptional parents could you find a base for your own fatherhood. "Thank God for Father!" Thomas said aloud and peered around to see if anyone could have overheard. The rest of his introspection would be whispers in his mind.

" Did I do the right thing? Should I have sent at least one to the church? I could have divided the vineyard. No, the estate must stay intact. I am right! William will not be satisfied in Normandy. He will be

King’s Man

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king. My sons will ride his ermine robes. Not that there is any shame in an attachment to Mother Earth, but relationship with the gentry will be their ladder to the class. The spoils of war will be theirs. But, Mon Dieu! I will miss them and their mother will be impossible to live with!"

He waved a hand in submission to his decision. He must return to his accounts.

The boys meanwhile retreated to the loft to consider their fate. Thomas, the elder, at fourteen was quiet. He questioned his father’s machinations. He was not as sure of the Duke’s ambitions or his chances of success. He ran his fingers through his black hair and reviewed. He hadn’t the Viking blood. He hadn’t the gentry background. He hadn’t the money of the elite. He was an outsider, but his father like his grandfather before him, saw fit to educate him in numbers, letters and business. It seemed an astute business move if he could ingratiate himself in William’s castle. He would do what he had to, but he would be no toady to the gentry. He had too much pride and strength of character.

"What was William saying?" His twelve year old brother was prancing. He couldn’t stay still in his excitement. He too had black locks, but lacked the stature of Thomas. Thomas was five foot ten inches already and weighed in modern terms one hundred sixty pounds- a huge boy for the time. Will was slighter, growing like a weed, but lacked the musculature of his older brother. As a matter of fact he had just escaped the chubby appearance of the ten year old in his latest growth spurt. The fat was transferred into height. He was now five foot seven inches and slim as opposed to five foot and chunky. He had lost his lethargy of childhood and skipped about as a preteen.

"What do you think, Thomas? Will we be pages? I want to be a squire. I want to be a knight. Will Papa buy us a sword? I want a black horse. My colors will be black and white. There won’t be anything gray about me. Well, maybe my hair. Trivett colors should always be black and white don’t you think? What do you think William is like? What will we call him? Duke? Sire? Thomas-------- I’m scared!"

"William, calm yourself. Let us think about it serenely. I don’t know much more than you. I always saw us in the vineyard. It was our future. Now we are tied to the tail of William of Normandy’s horse. We have to avoid the horse manure about to come our way. We must succeed for Father’s sake. We must make Mother proud."

William was slowing down. He sat on a discarded box and tugged at his ear. A tear escaped his lower lid and coursed it’s way over his high cheekbone. He brushed it away in the face of his older brother, but another replaced it. He started to sniff. He couldn’t do that or Thomas would tease him. To his surprise his brother appeared beside him and threw his protective arm about his sibling.

‘Don’t worry Will. We’ll stick together. We won’t be very far from home. No one will get the better of the Trivett boys. We’ll be the best pages, the best squires and the best knights ‘Willy’ ever had. Remember Mother always said, ‘Any job worth doing, is worth doing right.’ We’ll be gentry with a piece of the action, a piece of the conquest and a piece of land of our own. We’ll look after each other. We’ll guard each others back. As a team we are unbeatable!"

William stopped sniveling. He was astounded by his brother’s peace treaty. This was the brother who so often had bloodied his nose, bruised his chin and bloodied and bruised his ego. Only once in extreme anger, had he made Thomas eat dirt. Now Thomas suggested a team. Will knew two things. They needed to be a team to succeed and Thomas was just as insecure as he. William grasped his brother’s hand and shook it as firmly as his father. They used their secret handshake and fell into each others arms. The pact was made, unshakable.

"Brothers forever! We had better talk to Mamma, William."

The two boys abandoned their childhood lair and sought their mother with a manly demeanor. Down to the kitchen they went. Mother was in the midst of baking. Bread was rising on the hearth while soda bread baked in the oven built into the huge fireplace. It was large enough to sit in the chimney corner, a favorite spot on a chilly wintry day. Mother was dressed in colorless homespun with a lace collar that she had tatted herself. Her lacy dust cap kept her hair in place. Her face was reddened from the

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proximity to the fire. A wisp of graying hair straggled over her forehead and she brushed it away in annoyance. She was just removing the crusty soda bread as the two boys entered the kitchen. She had not maintained her girlish figure, but she hadn’t been as careless as her husband about her weight. She had become heavier in the bust and widened at the hips in child bearing though her weight was only ten pounds heavier today than when she was married.

"Bonjour Mamma, ‘Ca va", the boys chorused.

"Bonjour mes Enfants. You smell the bread, Yes?

"Qui, Mamma. However, we came to talk."

"Cut yourself a piece of soda bread and butter it. We will talk when I get the regular loaves in the oven."

The boys fell eagerly to their task while Mother placed the pans of bread on the oven rack. She made a half-hearted attempt at removing the flour and putting the table to order. She sat.

"Et maintenant?"

Thomas took the lead. "Mamma, we have had an audience with Father. He has engaged us in service to Duke William. We are to go tomorrow to William’s castle to begin our duty as pages. Papa says we will learn to be gentry- pages, squires, then knights. We will fulfill our duty.

William, his partner, took over. "We have made a pact, a solemn vow, to back each other and protect each other from harm. It is more than a vow of friends: it is a vow of blood."

Mary began to cry, partly in pride, mostly in distress.

William took his mother’s hand and kissed it. "Mother we will miss you greatly. We will always need your love, kindness and understanding. We will need your strength, honor and teaching to succeed.

Mary had to speak, "Mes Hommes, you have grown up. I do not deny I wished one of you to enter the church. Your father and I had discussed this. It is a job worth doing. In the church you would be stuck in a provincial town devoid of character. The church would absorb all. As a knight you may become a progenitor of a mighty line traceable through the ages. I will cry for you and miss your childhood ways. Eventually, I will smile and applaud you. You will be my pride. I have already prepared your clothes since I knew this would happen. I too am prepared."

The boys tried to stand taller, stomach in ,chest out. It was easy for Thomas, but stomach in for William made him emaciated. They patted their mother on the shoulder , kissed her on both cheeks and escaped the emotional perimeter.

What would they take with them? What personal belongings would they need? Their knife? The Duke would supply their clothing and shoes. The wooden sabots they would leave behind. They would have hose, pantaloons and linen shirt of purple and gold. The boys had seen the pages on occasion attending at the lists.

"Thomas! William! Get down here! We have work to do." Father called. That would take up their mind for the day. They were supposed to transplant vine today. After a day’s work on the vines they were ready for mother’s meal. Boiled cabbage, carrots and some of their own roast pork filled the void. She had stewed some apple sauce to accompany the pork. Father was packing these meals on his ribs ,but the boys burned up the food for the energy to sustain them for the dawn to dusk work day.

The boys were sent with a candle to check the clothing Mother had laid out for them. Mother was an efficient seamstress. Because of the business acumen of Thomas, they could afford some linen clothing to compliment their homespun wool or linsey-woolsey. About the farm to protect their bare skin, they had leather leggings and cod piece. Wooden shoes were inexpensive and nearly indestructible. About the house they wore a smock and another somewhat shorter with their leggings. The best of the clothing had been washed and carefully placed on their straw pallets. Each boy had a shoulder bag to pack. They thought they’d never use these clothes again, but mother had given implicit directions in a finger-waving explanation. They were admonished to "get a good sleep". However, insecurity, wonder, and anxiety stole any chance of undisturbed bed rest. They lay on their back, their right side, their left side, their stomach.

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uncovered and covered. The straw shushed them and rustled with each move. Why was it so loud that night? Well on toward morning they fell into a restless sleep torn by dreams of castles and keeps, knights and squires, battles and wars.

At daybreak they were roused from the deepest sleep they had had. Father was calling. They pulled on a smock and clambered down. Immediately, Mother sent them to the stream.

"Wash yourself tete a pied. We’ll not have you sent home for stench."

They returned still dripping water and shivering from the cold. Mother had prepared some course gruel from their own grain. It was somewhat sweetened by the addition of a dollop of last night’s apple sauce. The boys fell to. Two eggs and some pork completed the hearty breakfast.

"Put on your best shirt and bring your bags. Your father will be waiting."

Back they came more or less ready for their new job. Mother stuffed a small sack of goodies in each shoulder bag. She had no idea what went on inside a keep. With salty tear kisses on both cheeks the boys took their leave of Mother and joined their father outside. Without a word the three Trivetts started down the road on foot. The boys turned at the bend in the road and Mother waved her good-bye. She had been in front of the cottage all that time. The rising sun was burning off the morning haze and evapourating the morning dew as the Trivetts hastened toward the castle. It was only one half a league before the young guard challenged their approach.

"Who goes there?"

"Thomas Trivett and his sons Thomas and William"

"What is your business?"

"Young Thomas and William are entering the service of Duke William of Normandy."

"Captain of the Guard!" Three Trivetts to see Duke William."

"Let them advance!" came an echoing voice from the interior of the tower by the gate.

"Yes Sir! Advance!"

Thomas and the boys removed their caps and approached the gate-keeper. The boys were all eyes. They had never been this close to the castle.

"Take them to the man-servant at the kitchen door of the keep. He’ll look after them."

"Yes, Sir!"

The boys followed their father, but their eyes were roving about the walls and battlements. Their father stopped and both lads, inattentively, ran into him.

"Watch what you are doing!" he growled. "Watch for those chutes about the keep. Each one is a privy." Father led them to the door to the scullery. The brief knock brought a scullery maid who called for the man-servant.

"Trivett boys?" To the father, Thomas, he nodded. "I take care of them Sir, Good Day!"

Thomas was not used to such an abrupt dismissal and putting his tail between his legs he slinked out through the gate hoping against hope he had not lost too much face. The boys meanwhile were hustled along a stone corridor to a cell-like room containing two beds, well, pallets with dirty straw ticks.

"Stow your gear and return to my office near the kitchen."

The problem was, the room was two pallets and the rest was bare.

"What do we do now, Thomas?"

"Leave your stuff in your bag. We’ll find something later on."

Back down the dreary hall they went to encounter a wailing maid who had crossed the man-servant Hugh. Apparently he had struck her for her nose bled profusely. The boys cringed and stood aside to let her by. They reached the kitchen where one of the cooks pointed a huge carving knife in the direction of a half- opened door. With trepidation the boys neared and knocked tentatively.

"Don’t stand there tap tapping. Get your sorry asses in here!"

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They entered.

"Get those filthy clothes off and put these uniforms on."

William was about to protest that their clothes had been washed and ironed yesterday, but Thomas gave him the high sign to retreat. Thomas recognized Hugh as a bully. Unable to master the fighting men or even be as equal, he took to attacking his underlings. Thomas decided to give Hugh a wide berth, do it right the first time and avoid the badgering and possible physical abuse. Will, two years younger, was not as sensitive to the personality of adults. He was the youngest of a large family divided by many years. Thomas and Will were afterthoughts, long after. Mother was past her best child-bearing years. Thomas approximated a first born, introduced to an adult world, in fact, middle- aged world, or in 1047 really an old aged world. Will was then the pseudo second son, much lighter in personality, happier and childlike. He was more inclined to see himself in others or accept them at their face value. It did not bode well for Will.

The boys shucked their very best attire from the Trivett vineyard and donned the purple and gold of William, Duke of Normandy. They pulled on some tights of a material they had never worn before and a pair of pantaloons pleated and puffy. Will began to laugh, but Thomas warned him with a finger to his lips. The slight eruption drew Hugh. All was quiet as the boys ducked into their doublet thereby hiding any facial expression. When their beads emerged their countenance was devoid of emotion or meaning. They both made an effort to tidy their hair but Hugh gave them no time.

"You, the smaller, report to Cook. She’ll have a dreary job for you to do."

"You, come with me"

William left the office in search of Cook. Thomas followed Hugh through the maze of the castle keep. With many a twist and turn and a flight of steps they entered a foyer and at one of the first oaken doors Hugh stopped.

"Boy, when we enter this room you will meet the Duke. You will bow deeply or I will strangle you with these hands. You will begin service by assisting the men at the table. Do as they wish."

Hugh struck the door which echoed in the chamber.

"Enter!"

The two pushed back the door and stepped warily inside. Both bowed in unison.

"Yes, Hugh?"

"Sire, this is the Trivett boy new to your service. He is untrained and light of brain. A few applications of birch may be necessary to get his attention. I will leave him as you desired, Sire." And with that introduction Hugh bowed his way back through the portal.

Thomas has not moved or turned his head, but peripherally he noted the humans, the furniture, the fireplace, the great table, the candle lighting and the great tapestry on the wall opposite the fireplace.

"Come Boy, I doubt you are the ninny described by Hugh. Your first job is to pour these gentlemen some wine. I suppose a vintner like yourself could handle that without instruction."

"Yes, Sir."

Thomas buoyed by the praise hurried to the buffet and retrieved a decanter of their own chardonnay. He remembered the lot well, grapes well-watered and filled with Normandy sunshine, a rich full-bodied wine with just a hint of apple and aged in oak. Thomas served the Duke first and then the four men. As nervous as he was, he kept the decanter from clinking on the pewter goblets. The Duke gestured to him to stand on the right and slightly behind the chair. He remembered Mother’s words and stood easily , but attentively, listening, intently and watching for tacit instructions from his mentor.

‘What were these men talking about? Alliances and treaties, pacts and agreements, trade, supply and demand, war and peace, gains and losses, allies and enemies, armies and defense! I had better listen carefully. This may be my future. It may be the future of Normandy . It may be the future of Europe.’

One man was obviously a bishop, likely Bishop Odo. He wasn’t wearing a mitre or surplice, only a shift. ‘That’s strange.’ thought Thomas. ‘What possible reason would he have to conceal his identity?’ He didn’t sound like a priest or monk. This was a violent man. William fitz Osbern sat on the Duke William’s right. He appeared to be the Duke’s age and led much of the discussion. Roger de Montgomery sat on William’s left. A more boisterous man, he may attempt to lead the discussion ,but would defer to the two Williams. The fourth man, somewhat younger, was Robert de Mortain. He resembled Duke William and no wonder. He was the Duke’s half brother. He remained on the periphery of the discussion, too young to make his presence felt. ‘Now what was the discussion?’

"You missed the boat, William! All France was yours when Henry died. His idiot son couldn’t manage his house let alone a country."

"Don’t forget ,gentlemen, I am only 33 years old. I have been under constant pressure. Can you count the attempts on my life? How many assassinations took place in my very home? At 25 years old, I had to repel my own liege lord Henry, France himself, and Geoffrey of Anjou. If I could have united the lords of the west, France would be no conquest. I’ve had to deal with Guy of Burgundy, Nigel I ,Rannulf, Ralph Tesson, Grimoald and Haimo. Do you think that easy for a stripling? Without France and a hair-raising night escape, the Duke of Normandy would be a Burgundian."

"Then six years ago Henry turned against me, his vassal. Without his drunken crossing of the Dives as the tide changed, he may have annihilated me. I got the advantage. He’ll never invade Normandy again. And that bastard Geoffrey Martel caused our recent exploits in Anjou. Now that traitor is gone and Anjou is ours; we’ve turned the tide. The Duchy is secure after fifteen years of war."

"Now, William, my steward, how stands our finances?"

"Well Sir, besides your inheritance which has remained largely untouched, we have operating income from the estates, the graverie, our direct tax-yielding a fine return-, and our customs and tolls bring just slightly less. Rannulf , the moneyer, has your estate on account with deposits of gold and silver. In my estimation even out present plans could not affect your assets. The return on your deposits supports your mercenaries."

"Good! Odo, what do your spies report on the allegiance of our vicomtes?"

"Brother, since the subjugation of Anjou, there has been little talk of revolt. The lesson you taught in Anjou has been aired throughout Normandy. No one wishes to question ducal authority and there is not an important house that does not employ one of my agents. Our network will report any provocation within a day. Only one, Geoffrey de Mayene, has nerve enough to contradict you. My agent reports he’ll support Walter of Vexin for the state of Maine."

"I see. Keep me posted. Maine was promised to me by Hubert. I’ll brook no rivals for Maine!"

"Robert, what reports do you have from our Norman interests in England?"

"Brother, Harold God ‘damn’ wine is securing large portions of England. He has inherited Wessex from his father. With the death of Leofric and Ralph he has stolen Herefordshire. He arranged for his brother Gyrth to take East Anglia. Leofwine got Buckinghamshire to Kent and Tostig has Northumbria. Aelfgar of Mercia is ill. If his young son Edwin inherits, Harold will have control of all of England except the king’s lands. He will, in our agents’ estimation, force Edward into Harold’s succession to the throne."

" I will have his heart! We are going to bring Harold to his knees! The throne was promised to me by the Confessor and by God I’ll have it!"

"William, we still have our original problem. Geoffrey of Mayenne is supporting Walter of Vexin as the new comte."

"All right Odo! Send him a polite warning! He interferes in Maine at his own peril. Herbert has named ME as his successor. Why do these petty counts try my patience?"

" He says you had Hubert by the throat when you took his oath."

"WOULD I do that? My! My!"

The group broke into general laughter at William’s satiric voice.

"Gentlemen, I beg leave of you. I must deal with my wine merchant, young Master Trivett. He is much more important than reports. Until our next meeting, I charge you with the duty of invasion plans. Each of you should act separately, but teamwork will not be amiss. So, Bonjour mes amis, we meet again Mardi."

The men bowed as the Duke rose and said their good-byes.

"Bishop Odo, will you remain outside for a few minutes while I converse with Master Trivett? We’ll need you for an oath."

"Yes, My Lord."

Thomas could hardly breathe and sometimes he forgot to. He gulped twice while standing at rigid attention. Oh, he was getting woozy! Suddenly, his Lord laughed.

"Relax, Thomas. I’ll not bite you."

"Yes, Sire!"

"Yes, My Lord at the present."

"Yes, My Lord!"

"Thomas you seemed very intent on my guests."

"Yes, My Lord."

"Do you know them?"

"Not all, My Lord. I have known Bishop Odo. Robert, the young man must be a close relative of My Lord because of the facial features. Roger de Montgomery has been seen riding to your castle with a force of men behind him. William, the steward, I’ve never seen before."

"Yes. Yes". said William as he steepled his hands before him. "You seemed very intent on our discussions. What did you learn?"

Thomas nearly choked. He was about to deny his attentiveness, but decided truth was the easier path to follow. He repeated the substance of the meeting: William missed the boat, William was under intense pressure, William’s enemies France and Anjou were dead, William’s finances were in order, William had spies in all the major castles of Normandy, William had agents watching events in England, and William has further trouble in Maine.

William listened attentively to Thomas’ account. "Well, since you are privy to all our plans, I must do one of two things.

[1] I’ll kill you and thereby keep our secrets safe!"

William peered narrowly at Thomas. Thomas was so near to shock he never turned a hair or his head. He continued to look William in the eye through the silence that followed the threat on his very existence.

Or[2] I’ll take your oath of allegiance to my person and your avowal of secrecy concerning discussions you’ve overheard."

"Yes, My Lord, as you deem necessary.’

William had to laugh. "Young man, you please me. I’ll take your oath instead of your life! Odo!"

The bishop who had been eavesdropping made a great pretense of opening the oaken door. "Yes, My Lord?"

"Bishop, this young man is worth saving. He has a comprehensive memory and intellect. We will swear him to our cause and to our secrets."

"Yes, My Lord."

The bishop produced an ornate Bible and a large hand held a cross. The Bishop called Thomas before his lord and his Lord.

"Kneel before your lord young man."

Thomas obediently dropped to one knee before William. Bishop Odo brought out a series of relics. They were impressive if not religious: a chalice, a piece of wood[from the true cross?]. a piece of material [Christ’s robe?] and a thorn[Christ’s mocking crown?]. Thomas doubted none of the relics..

"Take this cross in your left hand and place your right on the Holy Book. Repeat after me."

"I, Thomas Trivett, do solemnly swear before the cross of Christ, on the Holy Bible, and before these holy relics of Christ’s crucifixion."

Thomas with head raised to Odo and William said his piece without stumbling. "that I will be faithful and bear true allegiance to my liege Lord Duke William of Normandy, his heirs or successors.

Thomas recited.

‘according to Norman Law; and that I will faithfully observe the laws of Normandy."

Thomas declared.

"and I will bear arms in support of Duke William of Normandy and the Norman state and that I will faithfully fulfill my duties to Duke William of Normandy."

Thomas swore.

"So help me God!"

"So help me God!" Thomas replied.

"I also solemnly swear that I will not disclose or make known any matter or thing that comes to my knowledge or to which I am privy."

Thomas recited the secrecy oath and added, "So help me God!"

"Now," said Odo, "Kiss the Cross of Christ and the Holy Word."

Thomas complied.

William broke in, "Before you rise, Thomas, do you understand this oath?"

"Yes, My Lord. Completely."

William placed his hand on Thomas’ shoulder, "You are my man, Thomas Trivett. You may rise!" He turned to Odo. "Bishop, if we are to turn this youth into a man, he will need tutoring. See that my armorer places him in his classes for arms instruction."

Odo bowed," Yes, My Lord." and left the room.

William swung on Thomas. "You may go now. See Hugh for assignment."

"My Lord," said Thomas with deference but strongly, "I request a boon."

William raised his eyebrows in question.

"My brother William, although two years younger is also the Duke’s man Could he train with me?"

"I will deal with William."

"Merci, My Lord!" He bowed deeply to William and backed toward the oaken doors. Once they were closed, Thomas broke out in a cold sweat. He could have passed out. He held to the latch until he was steady. Now he was off to find Hugh. He could hardly wait to tell Will! Tell Will? What could he

tell Will? He was sworn to secrecy. He could instruct his brother, ease his path so to speak. How to behave, what to do, what to remember, the contents of the oath all seemed important. Will would learn of William’s plan soon enough.

"You, Trivett, go to the kitchen and help your idiot brother."

Thomas nearly jumped out of his skin. Hugh had appeared from a crevice on padded feet without warning. "Yes, Sir." He stammered. Thomas scurried into the kitchen. There was William devouring a large tart. Thomas guffawed. Will, as usual had ingratiated himself with the ladies. His light-hearted approach, his line of patter, his simple, but wry sense of humor always tickled the girl’s fancy. ‘He’s a character!’ thought Thomas.

"I thought you were to HELP Cook."

"I am. I’m just cleaning this plate. Want to help?"

Thomas broke away a portion of the sweet and the boys compared notes. Thomas advised William of what to expect and Will in turn introduced his brother to the kitchen and the staff. William had an assignment to prepare some fruit and Thomas assumed the role of his helper. He brought some apples from the cold cellar and the two polished them to a red gloss. There were some oranges Cook had

purchased from some Spaniards in the market. The boys had never seen them before. They were extravagances for the rich. They were peeled and sectioned for the table. Mixed with the apples were Anjou pears which were easily obtained locally. A few shelled walnuts completed the assortment. While they worked he instructed William and at the very end dropped the unexpected. They were to be trained by the armorer. That awakened Will’s interest. He asked more questions in one minute than could be answered in one hour.

"Will, just wait! I don’t know! Listen to me for a minute. Ask Cook if there is a chance to get some new straw ticks and a blanket or two. We don’t want to sleep on those vermin infested rat bags!"

"Certainment."

"Ma grande Dame! My brother wondered it there is a chance of getting two straw ticks. His head is too soft to sleep on the stone floor."

"Grande Dame is it you scalawag! You’ll likely seduce one of my girls in a new straw bed. I know you wine merchants. You’re only interested in two things: wine and the other thing. Straw ticks is it?"

"Mais oui ma belle Dame."

"Oh beautiful am I! Gadzooks, you’ll be seducing me. Marie! Take this No Good to the linen room and find him two lots of bedding. No dalliances there either! Both of you keep your clothes on and be back here in double quick time. Get those rat bags in your room and add them to the fire in the courtyard. For goodness sake don’t shake the bugs out when you move them."

The three shot off to do their job. What a relief to Thomas! He did his best to remove the filthy ticks without disturbing the vermin. Out they went to the fire pit. By the time he got back Marie and William had returned with some bedding.

"Where have you been you sex fiend?"

Marie blushed. William had been up to something. The boys would keep their eyes open for a few niceties for their chamber. Before they finished Cook’s chores, in came the armorer.

"Cook! Where in hell are the two Trivett boys? As if I didn’t have enough to do! Children, Egads what will William think of next?"

The boys presented themselves. The armorer, Sir Richard, introduced himself and walked round the boys as he stood them at attention.

"One with meat. One a bag of bones! Both tall though." He squeezed their shoulders. "Well strong like bull; smart like wagon wheel! Come with me. We’ll meet every day for training at this time."

Off they went to the courtyard. William apparently believed in an early start. If they expected swords, lances and shields, they were sadly mistaken. There was a rough circle twelve feet in diameter marked in the dirt.

"Get in the circle," said Richard. "Now throw your brother out. The loser does a fast lap around the outside walls"

Both lads shrugged and had at it. Thomas had twenty pounds on Will and a few inches in height, but Will was wiry muscle over bone. They grappled as they had all their life. There was some tentative hand grabbing and an attempted rush by Thomas to bear hug his smaller opponent and lift him bodily over the circumference. But, William wasn’t there! He had dropped to the ground and the onrushing sibling had tripped over him. Both leaped to their feet. Thomas was astounded and embarrassed.

‘How had that little bugger moved so fast? He’s made a fool of me’

Things began to get serious. Thomas in his growth spurt hadn’t slowed his reaction time. It was just that he was unaccustomed to the new length of limbs. Will on the other hand, had recently lost his baby fat and appeared quicker. In his anger and humiliation Thomas unleashed a mighty blow that could have torn the head off Will. William countered with his right hand starting from the region of the

vineyard. However, both closed their eyes in anticipation and their haymakers passed harmlessly over their brother’s shoulder. They collided and went down in a heap of thrashing arms and legs. Locked in a

death grip the two combatants began to roll. Both were outside the circle. Sir Richard was convulsed with laughter. Thomas, somewhat bloodied by Will’s head butt ,gained the upper hand and started to beat his brother’s head into the ground. Richard, still roaring with laughter, jumped into the fray to separate them. He yanked the bloodied, disheveled but unbowed pair to their feet and held them at arms length.

"You two fight the funniest fight I have ever seen. Now just calm down. Since you are both out of the circle. You will both run the wall. Go."

Richard sat and waited. Back they came. Thomas had a rivulet of blood from his butted brow and William was wiping at a bloodied nose.

"Sit ,Lads. I always teach hand to hand grappling before I give you any weapons. If you are in the field and you expect to remove your enemy, you have to close with him. He may die from an arrow at fifty yards or a lance at ten yards, but the only way to dislodge a shielded enemy is to get inside. By the by, are you still angry at one another?"

They answered in chorus, "No, Sir."

"Good. Now what you have done is little more than a play fight. Your object was not to kill one another. Hurt, but not kill. I’m going to teach you to kill. You are to report to me every day immediately after midday chores. Wear clothing better suited to grappling. Before tomorrow, you will work as a team to list the weakest points of the human body that you may attack with your hands, feet or body. Now you had better do some repairs to your person. You will likely be called to duties before the serving of the meal."

"Yes, Sir," they chorused.

"Dismissed."

Off they limped. Richard stood, hands on hips smiling, but shaking his head. The boys stopped, looked at one another, and clasped hands. Then they went to the well arms about the others shoulders and drew two pails of water for the trough. They did their best to repair the damage. They washed away most of the blood and gore. William was developing a mouse -colored bruise under one eye and the brow wound of Thomas was a persistent bleeder. They did their best with their clothing. They would have to wash their uniform after hours and hope it dried by morning. ‘Maybe in Cook’s kitchen?’ Marie rushed toward them. "William, you are to report to Duke William and Thomas, you are to report to the Duchess Matilda. I will lead you both. What happened to your faces?"

"Uh! We fell down."

Her look told them she wasn’t convinced. Quickly they went. Thomas reviewed the process for William to the oath of allegiance and secrecy. Another girl approached.

"This is Angelic, William and Thomas. Thomas, you go with Angelic to see the mistress"

Marie and Will continued to the oaken door of the Duke’s lair. Marie struck the door twice.

"Enter!" said a disembodied voice from the interior. Marie entered and curtsied. She nudged William and he went into an awkward bow.

"This is William Trivett, My Lord. Your newest page."

"Dismissed Marie." And she curtsied her way back to the hall.

"Come in, lad. Bishop Odo has other work to do, but he will administer your oaths."

Odo wasted no time with the two oaths. It was ‘Do you swear?-Yes!-Goodbye!’

"William, you will attend to Sir William fitz Osbern ,my steward of Normandy and I. You will see to our needs, keep the fire, keep our glasses full and keep your nose out of our business."

"Yes, My Lord."

William filled both glasses with his father’s wine. Then he tended to the fire. He stirred the ashes to release the coals and added some dried fruit wood that released the aroma of apples. Then he took his position beside the Duke’s chair. The two men were discussing finances, customs, rents and tolls.

"Well Steward, can you project our gross income for the year?"

"Yes, My Lord. In the first three months we have realized seventy-seven point fifty-five pound and maintaining that income we could accumulate------ahhh!

William couldn’t contain himself any longer. Mathematics was his forte. " Three hundred eight point two pounds!" he blurted.

The Duke looked angry; fitz Osbern surprised. Will blushed, "I’m sorry My Lord."

"Do not interrupt again!"

"No, My Lord."

"How did you know the answer?"

" The brothers at the abbey, My Lord, they taught us numbers and letters."

"Will, take note of this fellow for future use."

"Yes, My Lord."

"No more interruption or you’ll pay!"

William bowed, "Yes, My Lord." but he paid heed to the bookkeeping and found he was learning the process.

Meanwhile, Thomas and Angelic had been accepted and bowed and curtsied their way into the presence of Duchess Matilda. Angelic was sent back to her chores. As she left, surreptitiously, she winked at Thomas.

"Well Thomas, I hear from your master that you have an accomplished memory. You wouldn’t practice your memory on what you hear from me or my ladies."

" Oh no, My Lady. I have sworn an oath of secrecy for My Lord and of course I would not break my oath by revealing ladies’ truths."

" A veritable diplomat, Lady Matilda!" said Maria fitz Osbern.

"Would you tend to the fire Thomas. This spring weather and dampness chill you to the bone?"

"Yes, My Lady."

Maria rose and crossed the room until she stood by the fireplace. "Tell me, Thomas. Before you entered service what did you do?" The light-hearted question seemed innocuous, but presupposed his previous life would be hilarious.

Thomas was nonplused. " As of yesterday, Madam, I was a vintner. We, that is my father and two brothers, supply a good deal of wine to this castle. I’m certain that you must have sampled it. There is something about living close to the land- an attachment to Mother Earth- not unlike God’s creation of man. You put some soil, some plants, some rain, and some sun together and your efforts are rewarded with a life-giving wine."

The ladies were stunned. Thomas was embarrassed. He had heard his father speak like that, but he had never done it himself. To cover his reddened face he busied himself about the fire, certainly doing more than necessary. The ladies of Matilda’s court went back to their own affairs. It wasn’t all needlework and children. Matilda was much involved in the affairs of the Duke. One gem of information Thomas gleaned. Matilda was considering a new surprise warship for Duke William.

After attendance on the ladies and a message to Cook and Hugh, Thomas was sent back to the kitchen. William was there already. Marie was about to deliver a lesson on serving the table. The pages weren’t likely to be involved, but in the ducal court you had to be prepared. Will sat at the table and Marie instructed-"Serve from the left; take from the right. If you forget all else, remember that! Now you two serve me. Thomas the plate; William the wine."

The boys handled it.

"Good. That will get you by tonight."

"When do we eat?" asked William. His fire needed stoking.

"You’ll get leftovers when the Duke’s table is cleared."

"I didn’t think a pretty girl like you would starve a poor lad."

‘Gad, what a character!’ thought Thomas. However, Marie appropriated some bread and roast pork for the two.

"Don’t tell Cook!"

They were just licking their fingers when Cook returned to the scene.

"Are they ready?"

Marie nodded.

"Wash the grease off your hands."[ She hadn’t been fooled], "and help Marie and Angelic get these goodies to the table."

Great salvers were loaded with roast goose, a suckling pig and a large rump of roast beef. The boy’s fruit trays were ready. Cook’s sweets, including the tarts the boys had sampled, were on a trolley with the warmed fresh bread. Although vegetables were considered only fit for the masses, Matilda always had some on her table. Tonight it was winter turnip with a honey glace. The honey would entice some of the men to taste it.

The boys loaded the trolleys and followed the girls to the great table. All was quickly set out under the direction of Hugh and Cook. The boys were dismissed before the entry of the Duke and entourage. The girls would serve. Hugh didn’t likely trust the lads. They repaired quickly to the kitchen and loaded plates with leftovers. After bolting down their food, they returned to their room, changed their clothes and set off to wash their scarred uniforms. They laid out the wrung clothes as near to Cook’s oven as possible. Maybe, just maybe, they would dry over night.

After the washing the boys sat as near to the fireplace as possible. A full belly, and soothing warmth and the long exciting day had drained them. Besides the nervous night, the eve of their entry into service had robbed them of their slumber. They worked much harder on the farm, but they had no stress in the vineyard. Both began to nod. Will’s head snapped back and struck the stone fireplace.

"Ouch! Thomas, I’m off to bed."

"Moi aussi!"

The boys dragged themselves along the passage to their barren room. They crawled under the clean blankets and tossed and turned only once. Their breathing shallowed, their eyelids were locked shut and their ears had tuned out.

One hour later while the boys were miles away in dream sleep, their covers were pulled up. Two pale bodies slipped under the blankets and pasted themselves to the lad’s warm bodies. Neither awoke; both stirred. Light feminine hands softly covered each boy’s mouth. The other hand began to explore the sleeping bodies. One feminine mouth kissed the neck of Thomas. Another nibbled the ear of Will. The boys woke simultaneously. Before they leapt to their feet soft sensuous whispers ensured them that they were in no danger. That was questionable for the lads were about to lose their virginity. Marie and Angelic were older women, at least by three years on Thomas. The hands were groping about the groin and the males responded. The young women were patient, but leading tutors introducing the pages to the intricacies of sex. The explored each others body with hands and lips. The heat of the bodies, the urgency of the act, the genetic response brought them to entry. In wild fierce expectant thrusts the couples were climbing a mountain to climax and collapse. With some tentative kissing and further touching the exhausted boys reentered the land of Morpheus. The girls slipped from the blankets and dressed quickly and softly padded from the room.

Day one ended as it began with a rude awakening. Someone struck a loud gong that brought the boys from the subterranean depths of unconsciousness. Even father’s curses and shouts were not as demanding as the reverberations of that gong.

Their bodies seemed attuned to the beat and the gong persisted in their ears like an echo. They dragged themselves out and up. The previous day had put great stress on them- left home and family- oaths and vows to swear, new jobs to consider- and a seduction and loss of virginity. Fortunately, day two was not as trying. They recovered their clothing from the kitchen. It was almost dry and reported to Hugh, the butler. With a minimum of cursing and oral abuse, he had the lads exchange jobs. Thomas reported to Cook and Will reported to William. After the midday chores they sought Sir Richard, the armorer.

"Well, the blood has stopped and the eye is open. Good. What was I trying to teach you yesterday?"

William replied, "To remove an enemy you must close with him."

"Very good. Now what is your list of vulnerable areas you were to prepare?"

Caught without their homework!

"Sir Richard, we had a very full day yesterday and by the time we washed our clothes last night we fell asleep in the kitchen. We promise to fulfill our duties to you in the future. We are sorry." Thomas listened with Richard. ‘Not bad ,Will!’

"You haven’t begun to be sorry. Twice around the walls at flank speed. It is a race you see. The last one back will have a penalty. I’ll be on the parapet so don’t try any little games. GO!"

The boys ran together. It was difficult to outdistance your brother. Thomas was taller; William was lighter. They remained neck and neck. The farm had made them hard and muscular, but running conquered their wind. On the second lap they had the brassy taste of exhaustion in their mouth. If anything, Thomas won by a Trivett nose.

"So," and unrelenting Richard yelled. "Thought you would escape by tying the race. Down on your belly! Only toes and hands on the ground! Push up! Down! Do fifty! I’ll Count!"

Normally, fifty push-ups would be a walk in the park, but after a dash round the wall the lactase stricken muscles rebelled. Every large group began a complaint. Cramping set in, but they struggled on and collapsed.

Richard was simpering, "Are you sorry now, Garcons?

"Yes, Sir Richard!"

"Have you had time to consider your list?"

"Yes, Sir Richard!" the boys were gasping as one.

"Begin."

"Eyes, nose, jaw, throat, joints, stomach, groin, knees, foot." They alternated.

"Mais Oui! We will touch on each in our training. In hand to hand combat training we must consider ten principles. The first three you experienced yesterday in your humorous little incident. First and foremost you must retain balance. No matter what your opponent does you can’t allow him the advantage of you on the ground. Get in the circle. Now, if you attack one another how best will you maintain balance?"

"Keep your feet apart?" William answered.

Richard looked at Thomas.

"Stay lower to the ground?"

"You’ve got the idea. Keep a broad base and center of your weight low. In the circle! Now, this is not a fight. This is a balance contest. Attempt to upset your brother."

Both boys crouched somewhat and spread their feet for firm balance. It was an even test. For five minutes neither got the upper hand. In the long run Thomas’ superior size and weight overcame the smaller William. It was tiring. Many large muscle groups came into play.

"C’est bien. You see in this exercise you must remain stable, but you have found mobility is a necessity. You must keep the center of your mass over your central base. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Try your contest again."

The boys began. Thomas found his job much harder this time. William was quick. His mobility nearly destroyed Thomas' stability. He would start to lean on Will; Will would resist; Thomas shoved harder; Will wasn’t there. Thomas nearly went down on two occasions. Again, Thomas by superior size overcame his brother.

"Mais Oui. You are adapting. William is exploring the third concept of grappling- Avoid the head-on collision of forces. William recognizes your superior size and strength. He has realized he cannot long sustain himself by sheer force. So what does he do?’

Thomas knew, "By mobility he transfers my force into my instability. He resists, I push and there is nothing to push on. He has stepped aside. He did it in the fight yesterday and I tripped over him."

"Right. Now try again. Be careful of the others transfer."

With both trying mobility, stability and avoiding the clash of forces the tussle was equal. Neither could upset the other. Thomas whispered, "Way to go, Will!"

"Time," shouted Richard. "Fifty push-ups and then come to the armory. You’ve got to care for equipment."

They grunted through their exercise and followed Sir Richard’s steps to the castle armory. They had never seen so many tools of war, lance, spear, sword, mace, shield, bows and arrows. They were agog. Richard quickly drew their attention. Before him lay a pile of rust.

"This my young wrestlers is a hauberk and coif, a full suit of chain mail that covers a soldier from crown of head to thigh. It has turned many a sword blow in its day. As you can see it lacks attention. I want it cleaned and oiled and ready for use. If any links are damaged, mark them, and see the smith for repairs. This helmet goes with it. Remove the rust." He turned on his heel and was gone.

"He can’t mean it!" cried William. "We scrapped better metal than this on the farm!"

"How are we going to get this clean?"

The two stared despairingly at the pile of rust. ‘Will, remember father’s shovel you left outside?"

"You left outside you mean."

"Never mind. Let’s not start that argument. How did we remove the rust?"

"We dug with it in the dry sand. Mais oui, we’ll drag this mess through the mason’s sand heap outside the wall. C’est bien, Thomas. I’ll do the dragging while you scrub the hat."

They gather up forty pounds of armor and some cord and made for the abrasive sand. William tied the cord to a stick he had inserted in the links and began to tedious task traversing the aggregate. Thomas, appeared to have the easier job and sat on the edge of the sand heap and scrubbed the helmet over the particles. The exterior was quickly burnished, but the interior posed a problem. Meanwhile, William continued his trudging through the loose sand. Iron oxide mixed with the building material. The boys exchanged jobs.

"What are you two doing?’ It was Marie. "Cook is furious! You better stop playing in the sand and get in to help in the kitchen." She turned and was gone. The boys gathered their materials and were off to the armory and then kitchen. After the evening meal and their own bolted supper, they returned with some pilfered candles and went back to their scouring. They were making headway. With handfuls of sand covered with a rag the interior of the helmet was being restored. The links of iron were brightening on the hauberk and coif. William dropped the helmet and slipped away.

"Where are you going?"

All Thomas got was the sign- a finger across the lips. Shortly, William returned with two files he had expropriated from the smithy. The boys retired to the armory , lit their candles and worked on individual links. As they cleaned a section, they wiped it with an oily rag . They were making good progress.

"What are you two doing?" Everyones question. Sir Richard had noticed the flickering light. "Get to bed. You didn’t have to have it done in one night."

The boys scurried off. "They may make it." Richard said aloud.

On day three Thomas was assigned to Duke William and Will was left with butler, Hugh. The pages did not meet again until they reported to Sir Richard. Will was sporting another mouse-colored eye.

"Have you two been fighting again?"

"No, Sir, I fell down."

"Thomas?"

"I don’t know, Sir. I’ve been with Duke William all day."

"William?"

"I fell down ,Sir."

"All right! Let’s get on with our work." He had them review balance, mobility , stability and head-on collision of force. He spoke of mental resistance and focus. He expected them to resist any thought of failure and focus on success. Their complete focus should be on the disabling of their opponent. All other mental activity must be resisted. The boys tried it in the circle. Sir Richard noted William was somewhere else. Richard was actually smaller than Thomas and he sat Will down and worked with Thomas. He taught distraction. He appeared to look over Thomas’ shoulder until Thomas wanted to look himself. He did and was lying on his back. Richard feinted with his hands, his feet and his head. Many a blow struck Thomas. "Don’t be distracted. Parry the blow that will land only. Watch the body. No one can feint with the body. But, he must start the blow from the body. Thomas began to parry the blows and try a few of his own. He feinted a punch to the body and aimed a kick to the groin. Richard crossed his arms, blocked the kick, caught Thomas’ foot and put him on his back.

"Enough! Complete your work on the hauberk."

Thomas picked himself up and dusted himself off. "Thank you, Sir Richard."

Richard couldn’t believe it. The boys trotted off to the armory and retrieved their files and oily rags.

"Will, who hit you?"

"I fell down," William persisted, but he couldn’t look Thomas in the eye.

"Bullshit!" Thomas exclaimed. "What happened? Hugh struck you!"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I don’t know. I was helping Cook, and smiling."

Thomas was ready to explode. "Keep working. I’ll be back." He headed straight for Hugh’s cubby- hole. The attacker was there.

"What do you want, Idiot!"

Shining and coated with oil the armor was hung as a finished job. They would have tried it on but they could wait until the excess oil dripped. That night they were called to work the supper hour. All went as usual until the strolling troubadour had finished his act. William called the pages. "Thomas, tomorrow is Tuesday."

"Yes, My Lord."

"I’ll need both of you at the meeting."

"Yes, My Lord."

"Thomas, you will monitor the ideas presented. William, you will apply your mathematical skills to any numbers considered. If I look to you, you will nod yes or no. I may ask you directly, but I don’t want my commanders to think I’m listening to children. I’ll expect a complete report from you both."

"Yes, My Lord."

"Dismissed."

"Thank you, My Lord."

They retired to the kitchen with the clean up crew and spent some time over wild boar and chicken leftovers. They missed the vegetables of home. They never thought they would. Cook offered them some wooden boxes to store their belongings. They dismantled one, retaining the sides to use as lids. With straps of leather or a couple of hinges courtesy of the smith they may become doors. After another full day, they crawled onto the straw and succumbed.

The next morning on reporting they were sent to the garrison mess hall at the request of Sir Richard. "Henceforth, you will take breakfast here with the men."

"Yes, Sir.’

The fare was course-gruel, fat pork, eggs and water. It was more like home. The men were great teases and the boys became the butt of male jokes and pranks. Thomas accepted them without protest, but quick-witted William took an active role. After a particularly senseless physically harmful prank Will turned on the perpetrator.

"Do you know the difference between a soldier and a piece of shit?"

"No, What?"

"I didn’t think YOU’D notice any difference."

And the race was on. The man chased William about the table and Will taunted him. The assemblage were roaring their approval. When the laughing died down, the exhausted man sat and agreed. "I guess I deserved that." After the incident, the boys were less likely to be bothered.

After breakfast they reported to Hugh. They were dispatched on a series of errands, deliveries and small chores. Then the three of them prepared the study for the Mardi meeting. Table. Chairs, goblets, wine, cheese, bread and fruit were set out and at mid-morning the four lieutenants and entourage began to arrive. Both boys had secreted some paper and quills behind a screen for notations. After seating the Duke and his council and tending to cloaks and extraneous gear, the pages poured wine and looked to William for direction. He gestured toward the wall behind his guests. The two being opposite their lord could read his tacit directions. There was little preamble; the duke was all business.

"If Edward does not fulfill his promise of the English throne I will attack that forlorn island. If Harold Godwine interferes in my succession it will be war. What steps must be taken? Odo, my brother?"

"My Lord, you’ll be wise to turn the church to your account. There should be an appeal to the very top. There must be a reason for the Pope to adjudge the English, or Harold if you wish. I recognize your generosity, and Lady Matilda"s gift of the church at Rouen is well documented. I would humbly suggest we keep the Pope on our side."

"How much?"

Odo recognized it as a cost feature. "No less than fifty pounds, My Lord. More if possible"

"Once?"

"Oh no, My Lord, every year!"

William eyed Will. He nodded to his master. "That is steep!"

"Well, what is his aid worth, Brother?"

"Now Odo, tell me. What sort of aid in this undertaking might we get from Anjou or Brittany?"

"My Lord, my agents are instructed to report opposition to you. I don’t know of support."

"Well you’d better stay out of the limelight. Roger, what do you suggest?"

"My Lord, these dukes are men of war; I think a warrior may visit and sound them out. If it is done skillfully, your agent could turn them to your advantage. The smell of gold, loot, and land could be overpowering and could be introduced without revealing the whole scheme. Greed would drive them."

"Can you do it?"

"My Lord."

"Good."

"In the end ,My Lord, you will likely have to make a personal appeal to your peers."

"Such as?"

"They will desire a direct promise of the lucre they might expect or the land in their name."

"I’ll not have them setting up fiefdoms in my kingdom! An absolute ruler rules absolutely! Suggest anything you like, but promise them nothing."

"Yes, My Lord."

"And now my vassals, Roger?"

"As of today, My Lord, there is not one of your avowed comtes that would not support you and provide you with the men-at-arms that is your due. You could be certain of two thousand five hundred men-at-arms. At least seventy of these would be high ranking officers and two hundred mounted knights. I have started an inventory of weapons with those close at hand and I will have the figures in ten days."

"Good, anything further?"

"We will likely need some mercenaries for such a venture. I have spoken discreetly to the French and an Italian count. I told them nothing of our plans, but asked them for aid if we go to war. We settled on a price that I have cleared with William fitz Osbern."

"William?"

" My Lord, it is reasonable."

"William, take the figures and record them for me."

William scurried about and retreated behind the screen to do Duke William‘s bidding.

"Robert?"

"My Lord, the news from England is not good. The Godwines have large tracts of land under their control. They have successfully hamstrung Edward. The four Godwines control York to Kent and Kent to Devon. Edward is king in name only. He was forced to take back Harold’s sister as his wife."

"I know that! What of the invasion?"

"My Lord, our problem is the English Channel. The distance is short ,but the weather and seas are a problem. Direct access at Dover is limited by the cliffs and Dover Castle. Landing could be enacted on the south coast, say Pevensey to Hastings. If I were the English, I would defend this south coast heavily and prevent such a landing. We would be forced back into the sea. We would need time to develop a beachhead securing the surrounding land. We would need transport. Some estimate 700 to 1000 ships. They must be capable of transporting men, horses and supplies. We can’t count on the land supplying. The Godwines may burn the crops and our army must be fed. I suggest some of our Norse contacts should be engaged in shipbuilding. Norse shipwrights must be better than we Normans, who left the sea for this land in Gaul. We must set the serfs to work, amass logs, and eventually lumber fit to build Viking ships.

With favorable winds the crossing can be made under cover of darkness to surprise the English. We must have the weather on our side."

"Very well, Robert."

"William Fitz Osbern?"

"As I told you last week, My Lord, your finances are secure. By calling loans, depending on your vassals and with the promise of loot we will be sound. It wouldn’t be wise to lose, but we are making plans well in advance of the invasion- an invasion that might never need to be made. I understand Harold could call on 15000 to 20000 men depending on the time of year. The English have some strange custom that

releases their serfs in search of a good harvest and in spite of the threat to their country. The timing will be all important. My informants tell me that Cnut of Denmark is making some noise about gaining Edward’s throne. He has a sizable army behind him and the open Yorkshire coast before him. It might be a walk down a country lane. That fool Tostig has about half his brain working , which is twice as much as we expect of him. He’s causing great trouble with the Yorkshire lords. It’s an area to watch closely. There may be enemies or allies there for us. We could turn Tostig or ally ourselves with Cnut."

"I would share the crown with no one! However, a little digging in their camps may turn up interesting information. Well, who had checked on arms?"

"Ah, no one. I see. I spoke with my armorer, Sir Richard. He tells me of new materials being developed in Spain. He swears the best swords in the world are being made in Toledo. How do we obtain these weapons at a price we can afford? We could send a trade delegation to Toledo. We could infiltrate their works. We could interest them in the invasion process. I suggest we send an agent or possibly a small group of specialists, an armorer, who can judge the worth of the weapons, a smith ,who can adjudge their process and copy it if necessary, a dealer, capable of approaching these Spaniards and signing them to a contract. And, all of them should speak Spanish.------Well?"

"I’ll do it, My Lord."

"Thank you, Odo. It should be easier for you and your contacts in the church.

Very well. Is the situation in Maine any clearer?"

"There is no change, My Brother."

"Keep me informed. William, pour these men some wine. Thomas, inform Cook we are ready for some food."

The boys leapt to their task. Will brought the tray of goblets and the decanter of red to the table. Thomas bowed his way from the conference table and scrambled down to the kitchen. Cook was all prepared and Thomas, Marie and Angelic were bustled off with a substantial lunch for the war ministry.

Marie whispered, " We haven’t seen each other for a while. We may just drop in on you." Thomas blushed crimson and stammered, but said nothing. Better not to let Cook in on their affairs.

After serving the boys were drawn aside by the Duke. In sotto voice he instructed them, " Thomas, I want precise notes on the meeting, a representation of facts. William, you only recorded one set of figures. Be certain they are included. You assist your brother."

"Yes, My Lord." they replied.

"Do that first. Then report to Sir Richard as usual. Dismissed."

"Yes, My Lord." The two youths left the hall, but not without a wink from the serving wenches, Marie and Angelic. William had appropriated quill and ink and paper, and the two retired to their cell. Using one of their boxes as a desk, Will who had the better hand recorded the regurgitated information Thomas had neatly filed in memory. Then they were off to Cook for a nibble or two before their work at hand-to-hand combat.

Sir Richard was ready. Like any good teacher he reviewed the known and led the students into the unknown. "Focus on your point of attack. Think of your hand or foot passing through that point. Your blow should be strong enough to pass a forearm’s length past your target. You must use rotational momentum. Your little runs around the walls are to build your legs. All blows start from the legs. You start to uncoil. As the process passes from legs to hips to torso to arm to hand the speed is increasing. It’s like swinging a rope around your head. At your hand it is moving slowly. At the end of the rope it is moving swiftly. The rotating body offers the same speed to a kick."

The boys worked diligently striking padded forms.

"Now you’ve worked hard enough to warrant a trial at weapons Boys."

‘At last,’ they thought, ‘sword, spear, mace?"

Instead, Sir Richard tossed a six foot ash stave one and a half inches in diameter to each boy. "Rule number- A stave is a two-handed weapon. Generally, you grasp it shoulder width apart in the center of the stave." Both boys complied. "Both ends are free for downward, upward or a lateral blow from either end of the stave. You know your opponent can’t hit you with both ends at the same time so you may use your stave to block. Now try this exercise. William attack using alternate ends of the stave. Do not vary or use a feint. Thomas, you block each blow. The speed William is one ,two. Go."

Thomas blocked every strike as he backed across the circle.

"Good. Thomas attack; William parry. One, two."

The boys worked back across the circle.

"Now try this. Feint the blow to the head and strike at the groin. Feint the blow to the groin and strike at the head. The object is not to brain your brother. The object is to learn to block. Will, go."

They fought their way across the enclosure and back.

"Yes, the staff is painful on any part of the body, but where is it more effective?"

The boys thought briefly and answered almost alternately. "The jaw, face, collar bone, lower arm, hands, groin, stomach."

"Not bad. It breaks the smaller bones. Broken bones scream at your victim. I brought two old helmets. Put them on for protection. Now I want you to strike. Try not to break any bones. Stop the full force of the blow. A touch is as good as a broken bone."

The lads set to.

It was the same old story. Thomas was stronger; William was faster. Thomas was methodical, plodding like a modern fighter; Will was swift like a modern boxer. After a few desultory taps the brothers got into the spirit of the thing. Will double feinted once to the side of the head, once to the crown. Thomas’s stave went up lengthwise and then traverse. Neither blow landed. The bottom of Will’s stave was already rising toward his brother’s groin. Thomas didn’t have a chance. Down he went in a heap. When the emptiness went out of his belly and the nausea passed, he rose deadly serious. Will was aware of his brother’s anger. Maybe it was the steam coming from the helmet. Will dance warily. He faked a dart to the left, went right and walked into the lower half of Thomas’s stave. Possibly this is the origin of the phrase, "He had his bell rung!" The light metal of the helmet gave before Thomas’s strength and some of the force got through to Will’s temple. The metal rang like a supper bell at home, but Will thought it was his head. He went down on his knees and Sir Richard determined it was enough for today. He separated them, took their helmets and sent them twice around the walls. Two sorry looking chaps struggle about, one dabbing at a slight cut on the temple, the other worried about the hollow pain in the abdomen. They returned to the armory to attend to their new gear, burnishing the old helmets and oiling them for rust protection. Then they washed the sweat, grime and oil from their skin. It wasn’t the standard of the day, but Mother had a sensitive nose and demanded cleanliness. Back to the humdrum! They reported to Hugh, who assigned them to Cook, who assigned them to the preparation table. Thomas got the Matilda vegetable dish of cabbage and William the preparation of a fruit salad. They were free when they were finished and would eat with the men in the mess hall. On the way out William flipped Thomas an orange- of peace- he had pilfered from Cook’s store. "For later."

Free time was not the norm for the pages and they scurried away after preparation to enjoy the lengthening Spring evening. They decided to visit the stable for the first time. Will soon talked his way past the defensive hosteler. The Duke’s horses were a sleeker beast than Father’s cobs on the farm. William’s father on his crusade to the near east had not gone with his eyes closed in prayer. He, a keen fancier of horse flesh, had graded the Saracen’s steeds. They were light, small-boned, dainty things, but their speed, maneuverability and jumping outweighed their deficits. He saw a cross between the plodders of Europe and the rockets of the Holy Land. William now had the results of his father’s foresight and

"We’ve got to have a charger like this!"

"Mais oui!" and they hurried off to mess. They bolted their food, for first finished had a chance of a second helping. Not tonight! They were assigned to clean-up and spent two hours in the kitchen with the company cooks washing and scouring.

As the sun fell in the west and the darkness spread from the shadows along the wall, the boys escaped and made their way to their cell. William was still gently rubbing the knot on his head administered by Thomas’s stave and Thomas was trying to walk around the swelling to his groin. The straw pallets would be a welcome sight this evening.

"This evening! Oh God! Will, those two amorous wenches may drop in on us."

"Oh no! not tonight!"

They made a quick decision and sidled out the kitchen door and dashed across the yard to the confines of the barn. Better to sleep with the horses than deal with sexual appetites with their delicate injuries at least Thomas’s. Another night, Yes!

A lovelorn cockerel awakened them in plenty of time for duty. William was sent back to the kitchen and Thomas accompanied Hugh to dress the Duke. Thomas selected some black leather shoes made by a Flemish artisan. Hugh laid out a colorful shirt, some hose, a cod piece and leggings. Before they were ready Duke William appeared.

"Hugh, get another page to take Thomas’ place"

‘Oh my God! He’s sending me home! Father and Mother will be embarrassed to tears! What did I do?’ the thoughts skittered through Thomas’ mind.

"Yes My Lord?" Hugh seemed as confused as the page.

"My brother Odo is preparing a trade delegation. He has asked for Sir Richard’s services and Richard , no doubt, will need his page. Thomas will accompany them to learn his trade."

"Yes, My Lord."

"Thomas go!"

"Yes, My Lord."

‘What a relief! I thought I was done.’ Thomas bowed his way out of the room and danced his way down stairs and out. He made straight for the armory.