Hoodsman: Frisians of the Fens

by Smith, Skye

  "Fool!" a half a dozen men yelled at him.

  "Fool," said a new voice from a tree that branched over the pool. Then a naked man swung down from the branch and slid into the warm water.

  "Alan, you old deerstalker!" yelled Raynar, and splashed at him because he couldn't reach him to clasp him.

  "Raynar, it is unnerving to find you playing with naked men. Have you joined the clergy, then?"

  * * * * *

  Alan had supplied a good man to guide Edwin to Maclesfeld, and to Chester if need be, so that Raynar could travel with him back into the Peaks forest. They rode side by side back along the cartway along the Wye, and then took the fork to Tideswell. Alan was a wealth of information.

  He no longer had work with Lord Sweyn. Sweyn was dead and a Norman was running the manor in the name of the King for a year and a day under escheat. Sweyn's much younger widow Sonja, and Sweyn's son's widow Britta, were sisters. Each of their sons would have a claim to the manor and estates. The sisters' wombs were coveted by the new Norman lord at the manor, so they were not living at their manor, but under the protection of their older brother.

  "I was just visiting their brother. His sisters are driving him crazy, them being housebound for their own security. He is sure his house is watched. If either of the sisters or either of their boys stray past the gate, he is sure they would be swept away to Sweyn's old manor and into the care of the effing Norman knight."

  "How long is left before the courts must decide the estate?" asked Raynar.

  "A month, maybe more," said Alan, and decided to change the subject because this last news had made Raynar go red in the face. "Times are good again in the peaks. The lead mines are wealthy again. The Normans like their cold stone buildings, so there is much need of lead for roofs."

  When the miners had work, everyone in the valley had work, so Raynar's home, the Porter's Glade, would also doing well.

  "Any Normans in the valley yet?" asked Raynar.

  "None yet, but it is only a matter of time. They ride to the mines occasionally and they drool over the wealth there."

  "And Gwyn and John?" asked Raynar. Gwyn was the fairie, and John the giant who had helped him with the archery matches.

  "You know about that, then?" asked Alan.

  "I pushed them together."

  Alan smiled at his friend. "She spends half her time at the glade and half at John's. His mother hates her, or so I have been told. Well, she's not Danish is she? We get our bows from John, and our arrowheads. He built a bowyer's shed behind his father's forge. John does the shaping, Gwyn does the finishing. She is not with child yet."

  "She wouldn't be," said Raynar, "she is a Welsh healer. She knows the ways to play with men without getting with child. Who is 'we'?"

  "'We?" Alan looked at him.

  "You said we get our bows from John. Who is 'we'?"

  "Have you heard of the Brotherhood of the Arrow?" asked Alan.

  "I was with Hereward's skirmishers when they started it."

  "Then you know," shrugged Alan. "Some of the lads in the local fyrd came back from Wallingford all full of themselves. When the Normans first came to Maclesfeld, they took great exception to them. Spitted the bunch. They were declared outlaws. Now they tend to poke holes in any Norman that comes to the Wye valley. I supply them with news and anything else that they need."

  "The Normans have moved their raiding of villages up a notch," said Raynar and he told him of what was happening in Nottingham, and Sherwood, and Peterburgh and the Fens.

  "Bugger. So you are saying that I risk my village. I will tell them to hunt Normans further from the villages from now on. The trouble is there are more and more outlaws to feed all the time. Anytime a young'un gets in trouble, even an alehouse brawl, they are joining the outlaws in the forest. As you well know, the Peaks forest is the roughest country around, and has the most game. It makes Sherwood look like a flower garden. They know that here they can hide from the law forever and eat venison for every meal."

  "Tell them to keep their faces hidden. If they are recognized, their village could be slaughtered." Raynar felt unwell just thinking of it. "I don't like the connection to John. Soon everyone will know he makes the bows." He thought more as he rode. "Is there a place in this forest that John could move his bowyer's craftwork to? It would be good work for the forest men."

  "I will have to sleep on that. You are talking about a hidden camp. All weather. Easy to fortify. Close to a main pathway, but unknown." Alan was silent, thinking.

  "Have you ever been to Sherwood? Brother Rodor runs a camp there. He has some good ideas."

  "Could we visit it, and take John?" asked Alan.

  "That would work. With John along, you wouldn't need me. He is known to them, and welcome."

  "Well then," said Alan, "I suggest you overnight at my cottage, and then we go together to see John."

  * * * * *

  Alan was right about the Peaks forest. It was much wilder country than Sherwood. It was Sherwood with more types of trees, and cliffs, and vales, and caves, and waterfalls. On the way to Hathersage, where John lived, Alan took some side paths and showed him a few places that had been camps of the ancients.

  Raynar warned him about smoke from camp fires. "In Sherwood, there are no peaks and tors. If you smell camp smoke, there is no hill to climb for a view to see where the smoke comes from. In the Peaks, if you wish to find where smoke comes from, you climb the closest hill, or a tree on that hill."

  "Aye," replied Alan, "that is how we catch poachers, or used to catch poachers. We haven't bothered since the Normans have claimed the lordships for themselves."

  "What about keeping the fires in a cave?" suggested Raynar.

  "The cave would need a chimney. I suppose that is possible."

  "A natural chimney would be best. You know, where the cave is at the bottom of a hill and has a cleft in the rock leading up. One of the lead mines is like that, " said Raynar.

  "That could work," said Alan and he started searching his memory for caves that he knew of.

  At Hathersage, Raynar was swept into the arms of John's mother. His father was his usual grumpy self, and barely said good day before he growled, "John is at the glade with HER."

  The porterway to the mines ran up the south side of the valley. The porter traffic on it was heavy today, and everyone recognized Raynar. It was not designed for horses, and there were places where they had to lead theirs. One grizzled porter with massive shoulders said, "Look at the women riding horses," and Raynar leaped down and gave the man a big hug of recognition. Because of the horses, they beat the gossip to the glade, and his arrival was a true surprise to the women there.

  The Porter's Glade had always been just a widening in the valley, where a face of rock had dropped away and left a cave and a notch big enough for a longhouse, a few huts and a paddock. It was out of the wind and was missed by most of the treacherous weather. There was a spring of fresh clean water, and because of the spring, it had become like a spa to the miners. The rest of the running water in the valley had been poisoned by the lead mining. Sick and injured miners came here to get well or to die. Their families stayed with them, until healing or widowhood allowed them to leave.

  The porters and travelers used the glade as well, and the families of the sick miners made a sparse living from renting them a bed, or feeding them and any animals. The business was done by trading, so there were few coins to be had. Gwyn's mother was a Welsh miner's widow, who had stayed on as a healer. Gwyn, Raynar's lifelong friend, had improved on her mother's skills of healing.

  The glade was the same, and yet different. Raynar was looking around trying to see the difference, when he was mobbed by the women and children saying their hellos. The buildings and the roofs had been improved. There were more walls, and covered walkways. There was a new pool further down the slope and the paddock had been expanded to reach the new pool.

  Who had done these improvements? There were usually no healthy men living here, so
improvements were slow in taking shape. And then he saw John and Gwyn walking arm in arm towards him. Of course, this was John's work. He had an eye for simple changes that made great differences.

  Gwyn was in his arms in a moment, pushing aside the children and kissing his neck and his face. John's huge arms wrapped around the both of them. Gwyn finally let him go and rescued Alan from the boys. Alan was the boy's favourite because he sometimes took them hunting. The four of them walked to a new hut set close to the cliff face and the cave.

  "I built it for Gwyn," said John proudly. "From here she can answer the calls of the sick quickly without having to bed down on the floor beside them." He nudged Raynar. "It also gives her more privacy in case she has visitors."

  Inside there was a John-sized bed, a table, two stools, and a lockable chest. The roof extended far away from the actual hut and created a dry porch with a view over the glade. There was a long bench on the porch, and it fit all of them so long as Gwyn sat on John's lap.

  Gwyn told Raynar who had died, and who had come, and who had gone, and which children were helping the local shepherds. It had been an easier winter than the one before, and the mines had kept working. This meant that the porter traffic had increased, so the glade had stayed well fed and clothed. "Between John and Alan, we did not miss you at all," she mocked.

  Gwyn's mother arrived with some ale and food, and John pulled the table and stools outside for her. Then it was Raynar's turn to give the news. And he did. And he went on and on by their request, because here in the peaks you got little news of anything beyond Derby.

  When he told of the vengeance that the Normans had wrought on villages for rebellion and ambushes, John when very quiet. Gwyn pulled her mother to her feet and they walked away to do the rounds of the sick.

  Alan looked at John and said, "Raynar and I think you should move your bowyer craftwork to a hidden camp in the forest. Let the outlaws craft the bows and defend the supplies. We don't want those weapons traced back to you."

  "It may be too late," worried John.

  "Perhaps, but we don't know that. All we can say is that eventually it will be too late."

  "What if I load everything in a cart, and the load is stolen from me on a forest cartway. I could offer a reward for its return," suggested John. "Then I could wash my hands of it publicly."

  "That is the best plan I have heard, but we still need a camp." Alan described the kind of camp he had in mind. "When I return to Tideswell I will ask some of the older miners. They know all the local caves."

  They all spent the night in Gwyn's hut chatting and snoozing and sharing stories, which tripped yet more stories in their memories. Raynar was greatly relieved. Making a life in the peaks was difficult and whenever he returned from his absences he expected the worst. This time, the glade and its folk were flourishing.

  He recaptured some of the wonder of his childhood while visiting his old home. In good weather, the peaks were wondrous indeed. Alan did not leave to return to Tideswell because Raynar had mentioned his own desire to visit the widow Lady Sonja. Instead they spent most of a week helping Gwyn with various chores that had been put off for want of a man.

  John walked them through his improvements, the biggest being the new animal pond lower down the slope. The old animal pond which was close to the huts had been cleaned and flushed, and now served for bathing, and washing clothes. The next morning they took the boys hunting, and bagged a wild pig.

  Mostly, Raynar sat and talked with the porters with whom he had tramped endless miles under load. They were still working as porters, but there was plenty of work, and they enjoyed putting down their loaded baskets and sharing stories with Raynar.

  Had he not won prizes in the battles of '66, Raynar would be a porter still. He had traveled a long way since then, both in miles and in knowledge. He was only now realizing how limited the vision of the world was for the hard-working people of the mining valleys. He had been just the same as them, only two years ago.

  * * * * *

  * * * * *

  The Hoodsman - Frisians of the Fens by Skye Smith Copyright 2010-13

  Chapter 21 - Saving the Widow Sonja in Loxley in April 1068

  Alan had worked most of his adult life for Lady Sonja's husband, Sweyn. With old Sweyn now dead, a Norman knight was running the manor and the estates under the provisions of escheat, so Alan was no longer welcome at that manor.

  Sonja had been Sweyn's second wife, and over thirty years younger than him. Before the Norman had ever arrived at the manor to read the proclamation of escheat, she and her sister Britta, and their children had fled to live with her brother. He was the Daneglish lord of the family manor in the hamlet of Loxley on the eastern border of the Peaks, and to the west of the town of Scafeld.

  Instead of taking the Scafeld road to the manor, Alan turned onto a bridle path and approached the manor from the rear. They pulled up just short of the manor and dismounted. Young Raynar held the horses while Alan skulked through the bush on a deer path. He was back in moments. "There is no one watching. I will go around to the front gate and have them open the small door in this back wall. While you are waiting, unsaddle your horse and put it with the others in the next field."

  It took longer than Raynar expected, but finally there was a quiet call from the wall. Raynar slid through the open door and came face to face with Alan and the lord. He asked them for an explanation.

  "We are watched daily," said Sonja's elder brother. "Always in the front, sometimes in the back. Alan is known to the watchers, but your arrival would be noted and reported. It would be better if they do not mark you as being from this manor." While he talked he had been leading them the back way through the kitchen shed and into the main hall.

  Sonja and Britta were waiting for them with some hastily gathered food and drink. Raynar bowed formally to them but did not approach. When Raynar was coming of age, he had been seduced by both of these women, and that was still a well-guarded secret even though it had been over three years ago. Now that they were both widows, so he wondered if this were the time for the secrecy to end.

  "Raynar, please sit. I am so glad you have survived the rebellions, and without maiming," said Sonja in a low voice, "Scafeld is overfilled with widows and cripples from the battles in Yorkshire."

  "A problem that will not soon be solved," said her brother, "there is a shortage of able men for the fields this year, made worse by the number that have been take by the Normans to build mottes."

  "Alan tells me there is a Norman in Sweyn's manor now," Raynar said, "and that his year and a day of trusteeship for the Crown is close to ending."

  "It has been a long year for Britta and I," replied Sonja, "and our children. We are watched, they watch our gate. We cannot leave for fear of being taken back to our own manor. We have seen nothing but these walls for too long, and just when the escheat was almost finished, things have gotten worse."

  "How can it be worse?" asked Raynar. "The year of escheat is near complete. He does not have you, or your children under his control. He hasn't been able to seed you with a new baby. After the escheat expires, you will have your manor back."

  "The court has made him the guardian of my son, and Britta's as well. As their guardian, he still has the manor." Sonja's faced had aged ten years in but two.

  "So you must live here longer," said Alan.

  "He can take the boys by law and by force," said the brother. "I can no longer protect them without breaking the law and giving the Normans a chance to claim this manor as well."

  "But he must keep the boys alive until one of you bear him a son. And he doesn't have you," said Alan.

  Britta sighed at the stupidity of men. "If he takes my son, he has me. I will not be separated from him."

  "I feel the same," whispered Sonja, "though I hear the tales from my maids at my manor. He is a devil with women. His hunger is never satisfied. The women of my manor have suffered him for a year, and so shall we suffer."

  "We have petitio
ned the court," Britta told them, "to have our brother made guardian, but the court is now controlled by Normans. It took the court mere minutes to decide that the Norman knight was their first choice, and my English lord of a brother only a second choice. The same with our pleas to the church. We have a Norman priest here now. He refused to intercede on our behalf."

  "I have offered to murder the knight," said Alan, "but they will not have it."

  "If you murder him," said Sonja, reaching over and touching Alan's hand, "they will blame my brother. We will lose this manor too."

  "How much longer before he can take the boys?" asked Raynar.

  "The end of the month. Less than a fortnight."

  "So Escheat was well named, then," mumbled Raynar, "for the Normans have broken the word into its parts." When no one laughed he felt silly and had to explain. "Es and cheat. They are cheating."

  The visit with the women was uncomfortable. They were depressed, with good reason. They both looked older than their years. The only brightness in the visit was when Marion, Britta's daughter, ran in with her little brother and her cousin. The two boys still looked like twins even though they were cousins. Marion was taller now and gangly. She recognized Raynar immediately and jumped into his lap. The little boys wanted to see his weapons and he helped them to hold them.

  They left the manor the same way they had entered, in secret. "Well, that was gloomy," said Alan, "without the favour of the court, they are fucked. Oops. Sorry about the jest, it was not meant."

  "It is the same across the kingdom, Alan. They are not the only widows faced with this dilemma. There are thousands." Raynar slowed his horse and looked at his friend. "But these are women and children who I care for deeply, and I must do something. Her brother's hands are tied because he must openly obey the court. Yours are tied, because they think you are his man. There is only me."

  "You mustn't, Raynar. Your arrows will only make it worse for them."

  "They would certainly make it worse for him, and better for the maids he is violating." Raynar thought some more. "But you are right. I cannot use a weapon to stop him." Their horses were barely walking now. "You know of course, that the bastard knight will bed both sisters, continuously, until one of them bears a son. It does not matter which one, as they both have claims to the Manor. Once he has his son, those I care for will meat with deadly accidents. All of them."