1085 AD - Lord Ricoard & Brother Clericus

I walked down the hill between the Bull Ring Centre and St. Martin's Church, and stopped at the corner of Moat Lane and Moat Row, beside Smithfield Market. Turning the Time Machine dial to 1085 I pressed the GO button, and in an instant the market building had gone.

I was looking across a wide water-filled moat at a gateway in a high log fence. I followed three horsemen onto a shaky plank bridge and through the gateway, the only entrance to a large oval space that was in front of a timber house which had a steeply-pitched roof of thatch.

A middle-aged man with cropped hair came from the low porch to greet the newcomers : two of them were soldiers in chain-mail, but the third wore a rough brown robe and had the top of his head shaved. He took a parchment from a bag and gave it to the middle-aged man, who stared at it glumly.

The robed man said, 'Are you the lord of this manor, sir?'

Ricoard: I am, yes, by the favour of my lord of Dudley. Ricoard is my name. Who are you, reverend sir?

Clericus: I am Brother Clericus. This parchment is my warrant, sealed with the great seal of King William himself. It gives me authority to visit every manor in this region, to make a record of everything in it that may be taxed, and the amount of tax that must be paid each year so it can be written in the King's great Domesday Book.

Ricoard: Indeed? But why in this region only, Brother Clericus?

Clericus: Other clerks are at work elsewhere. When all the records are made and put together, the king will know what his kingdom of England is worth to him.

Ricoard: I am a loyal man of my lord of Dudley, and he is a true subject of King William. In their name I bid you welcome. Enter, rest, and eat with me.

They all went into the house, and I followed. The inside, lit only by narrow window-slits and by a roaring fire built on flat stones in the middle of the earthen floor, was dark and smoky and smelly.When my eyes got used to the poor light I saw that the building was like a barn, open to the roof. Brother Clericus was sitting at a table across the farther end with Ricoard and his family, while the men-at-arms sat with shaggy-haired servants nearer the door. I walked over to hear what Ricoard was saying.

Ricoard: How long have I held this manor? Why, it must be fifteen years now. I came over as a young man-at-arms with Ansculf of Picquiny. For his service to Duke William in the wars against the Saxons he was given many manors that had belonged to the Saxon Earl of Mercia: and Ansculf gave charge of some of them to his faithful followers, like me.Now, of course, I serve his son, William fitz-Ansculf, who owns nearly all the manors in these parts and lives in the castle of Dudley.

Clericus: What is the name of your manor?

Ricoard: Birm-ing-ham. I have not changed the Saxon name.

Clericus: How is it spelt?

Ricoard: Spelt? What do you mean?

Clericus: What letters make its name?

Ricoard: I know no letters, Brother Clericus! I was a fighting man, and am still, if my lord calls me.In peaceful times like these I am just a farmer. Nobody here can read or write - we have no priest to teach mysons.

Clericus: No priest? Then you have no church?

Ricoard: Not yet, we can't afford to build one. This is a small manor, not so much in size as in people. There are not more than fifty souls altogether in the village. Why, when I came here with three men and my family, all the Saxons were living within the moat here - and there was plenty of room inside the circle of huts to keep the animals at night.

Clericus: Who owned the manor before Ansculf?

Ricoard: I am told it was the Saxon Sheriff of Warwickshire, Ulwine. There was a Saxon tenant here, and I made him my reeve.

Clericus: This manor is in Warwickshire, then?

Ricoard: Yes, but only just. Three brooks that mark my west and north bounds separate us from Harborne and Handsworth manors, and they are in Staffordshire. As for Northfield, the king's manor of Norton, and Yardley, which are all quite close, they're in Worcestershire.

Clericus: You were saying that the Saxon village was on this site here?

Ricoard: That's right. The head man lived in a hut not much better than the churls had. I didn't want them around me - Normans weren't popular, you know, and I didn't want my throat slit one dark night ! So I turned them all out and made them build huts further up the slope, round a green. Now here we are, in a fine house, and safe against anything less than an army ! Mind you, the Saxons have got used to me now. That gate doesn't have to be guarded against them, only against roving outlaws.

Clericus: Tell me about your demesne, Ricoard.

Ricoard: Well, of course I have taken the best land for my own farm. That means all the land along this bank of the river, and the slopes above - they're well-drained and get all the sun there is. I don't want to boast, but my sheep, cattle, barley and fruit, are all doing very nicely. My reeve is a good man, for a Saxon, and he keeps the tenants hard at it on the days when they have to work for me.

Clericus: How much plough-land have you?

Ricoard: Four hides - that's about one-sixth of the whole manor, in three great fields. There's plenty of waste to be cleared in my son's time, and his son's too.

Clericus: How much of the waste is woodland?

Ricoard: Let's see now - oh, not more than a fifth, I would say. The rest is meadow and heath. We have meadows along most of our boundary, as it runs along streams. The west half of the manor is now much use, except for hunting and rough grazing - it's too dry and stony.

Clericus: Do any of your tenants live there?

Ricoard: Not they, except for a few herd-boys who stay overnight in huts they've made at the far end of the manor, at a spot we call Winsdon (Winson Green), when there's been heavy rain and they don't fancy a hard trudge home.

Clericus: Has the value of the manor gone up since you took it over?

Ricoard: Yes, it has - but I've only managed to get it back to what it was twenty years ago, in old King Edward's time. It was 20 shillings then, and it's twenty shillings now.

Clericus: I see. Have you a water-mill?

Ricoard: No, that's one thing you can't tax me for! But I hope to have one built before long. I'm told by my neighbour at Aston, Godmund, that he makes a good profit out of his.

Clericus: I must remember that; Godmund, you said? That is a Saxon name. Are there manors hereabout in Saxon hands still?

Ricoard: Yes, a few. Godmund didn't join in the Earl of Mercia's rebellions against the king, so my lord has let him keep Aston - but for how much longer, I don't know. There are landless Normans who'd like it, and no wonder. It's a big manor, and worth five times mine.

Clericus: What is the next manor in the south called?

Ricoard: Oh that's Egbaldston, held by my old friend from the wars, Dreu. You'll be calling on him, I suppose?

Clericus: Yes, I shall visit him tomorrow. Egbaldston, you said - how do you spell it? Oh, never mind.

Ricoard: I can't promise that Dreu will welcome you, especially as my lord has put up his tax to 30 shillings. That's what comes of letting your tenants start their own farms. They work hard for themselves and you, then just when you're starting to feel rich, up goes your tax !

It was dark now, and the smoke of torches round the walls added to the smoke from the fire. As I left to get some fresh air,

Ricoard was saying, Oh, we're used to strangers here. This little river of ours is hard to cross except at the ford you crossed by. People come here from far away - we welcome them and try to make a bit out of them before they go on!

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