Chapter fourteen

DIVES-SUR-MER

Alan sat against a tree eating a chicken leg that Philippe had caught and cooked. He idly gazed to the hills that looked menacingly steep and high. The trees, with their deep green canopies, held millions of starlings that swooped low in perfect formation, gathering insects from the rich soup beneath them. Alan tried to count them, but it was impossible. He noticed a wild boar roaming the carpet of leaves trying to nuzzle out sweet roots from the earth. He listened to the choruses of songbirds that filled the air with the magical sound of life. The smell of wood burning fires reminded him of their home before the Norman attack. He was enjoying the peaceful tranquility; it was a far cry from the excitement that brought them to be working for the enemy. Alan noticed that the breeze had changed direction, and a light blue smoke haze from the cooking fires permeated the nostrils of all living creatures that dwelt in and around the port of Dives-sur-mer.

Philippe was seated on a Hessian sack filled with horsehair. He gazed out to the sea far beyond the shoreline, wondering if the next crossing would be as easy as the first that he and Alan had made. "I've been thinking about our trip to England, Alan. If it were not for Snap, we could have spent a few more days in England. We never got to taste any of their food or ale. Even though our party was ordered to leave by Earl Leofwine, I'm sure we could have made some viable excuse to hang on there a day or two." He smiled to himself then glanced up as he noticed movement. He saw a group of men in the distance approaching their way.

"Hey, Alan, this looks like the duke. We'd better look as if we're busy, or we'll be in deep trouble for lazing about." Philippe gave him a light kick with his boot.

"Did you hear what I said? We've company, and we ought to be seen doing something."

Alan had dozed off, and awoke with a start. He rose to his feet rubbing his eyes and gazed in the direction of his brother's pointing finger. He scratched the back of his head, then brushed off the grass and other bits from his tunic.

"It's the duke and his pal, Roger Fitzscrob," Philippe said whose vision were by far the sharper of the two. The brothers moved out of sight and watched the two riders approach.

As the men reached the lodge, William leaned towards Roger, their horses' noses snorting, almost touching. He smiled broadly at the man who was, along with Walter Giffard, the most faithful amongst all his entourage. William grasped his arm as they halted in front of the building before them.

"What day is it, Roger?" William asked

"It's Wednesday, the first day of August, sire. It's the day of St Hope." Roger glanced skyward. "It's going to be a fine day." Roger said smiling, because he was feeling confident that all would go well, and that William knew exactly what he was doing. "The lodge looks a mess, William," he said with a forlorn look.

When arrived at the stables, they dismounted and their horses were led away by the stable boys, whilst Robert and the duke strolled over to inspect the damage.

The lodge, though not a particularly large building, was comfortable, and through lack of regular occupation, the interior smelled musty. William had ordered that a fire had to constantly be kept alight, even in the summer months. Even so, the damp from the sea air meant that the odor lingered on, despite the fire.

As Roger entered the lodge, he had his men-servants begin cleaning up the mess. He glanced up at the remains of a mast with a partial sail still attached that poked a wayward hole in the thatched roof. It was the remnant of a storm that had battered the coast the previous night.

The duke stood outside inspecting the damage "I want the roof to be repaired by nightfall," William ordered. He entered the lodge, and kicked at the debris that was spread everywhere about the floor. He glared at the men about him, and watched them as they rushed off to make themselves busy. "The cleanup should have started at first light, Robert," he growled.

"It's a bit of a wreck, sire. If I may say so, the lodge is in need of a total rebuild."

"It's not the first time I've arrived here to find the place a total shambles. I sort of expect it. It will all be ready for use in two days; mark my words. These men know what they are doing. Meanwhile, we'll have to use the stables. My men make sure they're dean before I arrive, in case this sort of thing happens.

"I sure hope so. I dread to think of the mess we'd be heading into, otherwise."

A mast through a roof was unusual, to say the least, Phillippe thought. He stood watching the men as they started to organize themselves into two lines with alternate full and empty baskets being passed along the line, a process that was to be repeated hour-after-hour.

Philippe noticed the laborers rough attire. He recognized them as slaves, men in bondage, to all intent and purpose, dead men. He wondered ft these men found themselves and their families in slavery through debt to the duke. Such folk who are unable to support themselves rarely lived very long... poor souls, he thought.

He was used to slavery; he knew that slavery was a normal part of life for some men. He reflected on his home, his daughter, his brother's wife, Maria and his niece. He thought, too, of the money they were earning for their labor, and the extortionate cost of delivering this money to their family. At least the duke looks after us in this respect and organized such things very well, or perhaps this privilege is because of the monk, Cecil, he thought. He felt for his purse. It was full; it was always full. Then feeling for his rosary, he prayed to the Lady Mary, thankful that he was lucky, that she was kind to him. He prayed that these people in bondage be treated kindly, but he was aware this prayer might not be in answered, as he was sure that they'd have to wait death in order to gain their salvation.

Alan looked over at his brother. "Are we going to get on with this job, Philippe, or are we going to sit on our backsides all day twiddling our thumbs? I might remind you that we're here to get that mast out of the lodge roof."

Philippe stared back at the man, who only moments before had been sleeping. "You've some impudence! I'll toss this coin to see who goes on the roof for the mast. It's a two- headed coin." He winked at him as the coin spun through the air.

"Tails," called Alan. A moment later he saw that the toss was lost to Philippe. "Let me take a look at that coin... I'm not so sure you weren't kidding me along. I'm beginning to wonder about you, little brother."

"You took the call, Alan. I'll have control of the oxen. Be careful because that roof looks steep, and slippy, too." Philippe ambled over to the yoked bovines and prepared to throw Alan the rope. He spied the duke and his guest at the stable doorway. I'm glad that I've my brother to help. This could be a tricky maneuver if I were working with a veritable stranger. If this task went awry, it would be red faces and a whipping, especially if it were the duke who witnessed such a shambles. Philippe put aside his thoughts and watched on, as Alan clambered up the ladder.

Alan threw a grappling hook over the apex, and using a second ladder; he gingerly hefted himself onto the thatched roof, securing his body with a length of rope in case he lost his footing.

Philippe threw a rope up to him, who, in turn, threw it over the thick branch of a tree that was well above the height of the hole in the roof.

"That should hold well enough." He glanced down to see Philippe gazing up at him. In moments, he'd the rope attached to the mast and called down to Philippe to take the slack and allow him time to crawl clear. "Are you ready, Philippe? I'm done here, and all has been made secure. Be steady, as the wood comes up. I've to maneuver the timber around. I don't want it ripping more off the roof than is absolutely necessary. When I shout stop, give me a moment to get clear; is that understood?"

"Alright, I understand," Philippe called back, and on Alan's signal, began hauling.

As the rope became taut, Alan gave direction to Philippe to move or to stop as required. At last, the mast was free. Alan was pleased that he had managed to extricate the offending object with little extra damage caused to the roof in the process. He called for fresh thatch to be brought up to him, and within a few hours the roof was repaired.

The duke and Roger sat down to eat whilst watching the two men labor the hours away unceasingly. There was something about these two men that was different from the average laborers, something that Roger couldn't quite determine. He called to Georgios, his master- of-sergeants, to bring the brothers to him.

"Hey, you two! Come here. You're wanted by my master," the sergeant called.

"Who, us?" Alan asked, looking extremely worried that they might have offended someone.

"Come with me. Before you ask, I've no idea what he wants with you."

"I'm not sure what we're in for, Alan. I can't see that we've done anything to upset the duke. Can you think of anything?" Philippe's brow furrowed, his thoughts searching for reasons for their summons.

They followed the sergeant to the stables, where they were told to wait outside. From within came voices. Neither of them could make out what was being said, despite straining their ears.

"I'm imsure what's happening, too, Philippe. If we were about to be punished for some offence, we wouldn't be left standing here outside, alone." Alan shrugged his shoulders and pulled a puzzled face.

Moments later, three men approached them, and Philippe motioned Alan to attention.

Roger looked first at Philippe, then at Alan, and back at Philippe. He stared deeply into his eyes just long enough to gauge the sincerity contained within them.

"You're a warrior; are you not?"

Philippe looked directly ahead. "Yes. I've had some training, sir."

"I'm told you're brothers. Is this correct?" Roger asked.

"Yes, sir. My elder brother, Alan, is a trained warrior also," Philippe lied confidently.

Robert looked impressed, and walked around gazing at their neat attire, and then threw a punch at Philippe.