Regan’s visiting today and talking about Motte and Bailey Castles and also sharing about her new medieval release, Red Wolf’s Prize.
Motte and Bailey Castles
by Regan Walker
In the course of doing research for my medieval romance, The Red Wolf’s Prize, I learned much about 11th century castles. For the most part, the castles erected in England by William the Conqueror were not the stone edifices we think of today, the monuments that remain. The castles the Normans first constructed, the ones built in mere days, weeks or months, were timbered structures erected upon a “motte,” or a mound of earth with a flat top, and surrounded by a deep ditch sometimes filled with water (a moat). The castle included a central tower, thedonjon or “keep,” used as a lookout post and built on top of a summit.
Norman motte & bailey castle, drawing by Terry Ball
These would be enclosed with a timbered palisade, wooden poles sharpened to a point at the top. The land inside this palisade would be the “bailey” and would house the outbuildings like the stables, smith and other essentials. We call them “motte and bailey” castles.
At the end of William’s reign, over eighty such castles had been built throughout England. By 1100, it is believed 400 such castles had been erected. To build his castles, William confiscated the land of English nobles and their heirs and gave it to his loyal barons. (By the end of William’s reign, a small group of his tenants had acquired about half of England’s landed wealth.) And, typically, that land had a castle as its governing center.
Whenever William I wanted to make a point with the local population, or following a successful suppression of Anglo-Saxon rebels reluctant to accept his rule, he erected a castle. This happened following the Siege of Exeter and the Battle of York featured in my new medieval romance, The Red Wolf’s Prize.
Typically William would leave a garrison of his knights with orders to erect and hold a castle. He had 5,000 knights to use to put down rebellions and to guard his fortifications. The king was making his point with the populace that he was there to stay and any hope of rebellion was futile.
Norman castle built in 1068 following the Battle of York
Building a motte was a skilled achievement. They were built layer upon layer, with a layer of soil capped by a layer of stones that was capped by another layer of soil. The stone layers were needed to strengthen the motte and to assist drainage.
The larger mottes would take longer to build…months, not weeks. The motte at Hampstead Marshall contains 22,000 tons of soil. This motte took fifty men eighty days to construct. Thus, the motte at Dover, constructed in eight days would have required 500 men. Often, the local people were conscripted into the work, which must have been humiliating for the defeated Anglo-Saxons.
There were three phases of castle building under William’s reign, about 80% of which were the motte and bailey castle type. Eventually, many of the wooden castles were fortified or replaced with stone structures.
Tamworth Castle
Tamworth Castle in Staffordshire overlooks the River Tame. Its sandstone and herringbone walls are all that survive of the “curtain wall” of the bailey. The first castle was a wooden structure, constructed by the Normans in 1070, but later, it was fortified with stone. Today, it is one of the best preserved Norman motte and bailey castles in England.
Sir Renaud de Pierrepont, the Norman knight known as the Red Wolf for the beast he slayed with his bare hands, hoped to gain lands with his sword. A year after the Conquest, King William rewards his favored knight with Talisand, the lands of an English thegn slain at Hastings, and orders him to wed Lady Serena, the heiress that goes with them.
SHE WOULD LOVE HIM AGAINST HER WILL
Serena wants nothing to do with the fierce warrior to whom she has been unwillingly given, the knight who may have killed her father. When she learns the Red Wolf is coming to claim her, she dyes her flaxen hair brown and flees, disguised as a servant, determined to one day regain her lands. But her escape goes awry and she is brought back to live among her people, though not unnoticed by the new Norman lord.
Deprived of his promised bride, the Red Wolf turns his attention to the comely servant girl hoping to woo her to his bed. But the wench resists, claiming she hates all Normans.
As the passion between them rises, Serena wonders, can she deny the Norman her body? Or her heart?
ENJOY AN EXCERPT
Renaud lingered at the high table in the hall until he glimpsed the servant girl with the brown plait carry a pile of linen through the entry heading toward the stairs to the bedchambers. Slowly rising, he nodded to Geoff and followed after her.
Quietly, he stepped through the open door of his chamber. The girl had her back to him as she freshened the bed, the stack of clean linen resting on a nearby chest. He did not acknowledge her but went directly to the trestle table, poured a goblet of wine and sat, pretending to examine a drawing of the lands surrounding the manor.
She turned. “I can come back later, my lord.” She spoke meekly, barely looking at him as she hurriedly finished with the bed and began a hasty retreat to the door.
He replied in the English tongue, as he did to all save his men. “Nay, you may stay. Your work will not disturb me.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her back stiffen. Slowly, she retraced her steps and resumed her work. Her movements were rushed as if she were trying to complete her assigned tasks in haste. Was she nervous at being alone with him? Even with that, Renaud thought she was graceful as she walked to the shelves near where he sat. She held her head high, unusual for a servant in the presence of her lord. Though her long plait was the dull color of country earth, her profile was refined and her features delicate. He rose and silently moved to stand behind her where she dusted a carved box.
She must have sensed his approach.
“My lord?” she said, turning to face him.
Blue-violet eyes held his gaze only a moment before looking down at the floor. Set in her ivory face they reminded him of violets in the snow. So mesmerized was he that, for a moment, he forgot his question.
“Your name is Sarah?”
Keeping her eyes focused on the floor, she said, “Yea, my lord.”
“How long have you been at Talisand?”
“All my life, my lord.” Her voice was soft, a low purr, and with her words a flowery scent drifted to his nose. He was captivated and wanted to touch her. How long had it been since he’d had a woman? And this one was causing his manhood to stir.
Turing back to the shelf, she resumed dusting the carved box, as if to put an end to the conversation. His gaze shifted to her hand as she set down the box. Delicate fingers and ivory skin. It was not the hand of a kitchen wench.
“Let me see your hand.” She started at his request, and though he could see she wanted to resist, she did not fight him when he reached for her hand and brought it close to his body turning her palm upward.
It told him much.
BUY LINK
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Wolfs-Prize-Medieval-Warriors-Book-ebook/dp/B00MRF8WVA
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