Hoodsman: Frisians of the Fens

by Smith, Skye

  "That sounds like a solution that benefited all, especially William. He would become the king of a rapidly peaceful and prosperous kingdom, and that would free up his army for his aspirations on the continent and along the Mediterranean," said Gregos. "What happened? Did the queen object, or perhaps the bride?"

  "Not at all," replied Raynar, "Mathilde and her daughters had known Edwin's company for nine months, and had enjoyed it. Edwin’s weakness as an Earl was that he was not vicious, but that was a strength when a woman was looking for a husband.

  No, it was William's sons, and his half brother Odo that caused the rift. They feared that a son by Edwin into their bloodline would be the first choice of the English for the next king. The betrothal was cancelled soon after William and the Earls returned to England. Too bad the girl had not been older so they could have been wed in Normandy, and the deed done.

  Let's see. They were here just in time for Christmas in '67, so the betrothal was cancelled in the spring of '68. Cicelia was about twelve at the time, too young for consummating the vows in any case. Edwin tried everything to have William reverse his decision, and the other English Earls were angry at the back-stabbing of the Norman Barons, and then all hell broke loose."

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

  Chapter 24 - Meeting Eadric the Wild in Chester in May 1068

  They had ridden the crumbling Roman street over the southern ridge of the Peaks from the hamlet of Brough to Buxton, where they bathed in the hot pool and rested until Alan caught up. 'They' meant that John had joined young Raynar for the journey to Chester. 'They' meant that Gwyn had refused to stay at home, and so she too was with them. Alan was coming via Tideswell so he could touch his home before the journey. He arrived just before sunset.

  After a night sleeping in the pilgrim's shed of the church, and another soak in the mineral springs in the morning, they led the horses over the hump to Maclesfeld, and then took the Roman street to Northwich. They reached there long before sunset, but John forced them to stop overnight at a smithworks that was close to where the Dane River and the Weaver River joined.

  John's father had heard that the smith there had a new method for creating an iron that did not rust so quickly when used in the salt mines that were all around Northwich. They camped under a large chestnut tree at the edge of the smithy's paddock and close to the river bank. The path to the river went by a boatman’s hut, and even from the paddock it was clear that the boatman’s wife was near her time with a new baby.

  Alan watched the camp while Gwyn went to the boatman's hut to see to the wife. Raynar had escorted her to the hut and then sat on a bench next to the boatman and gossiped with him while he waited for his next passenger.

  It was an easy day from there to Chester along a well traveled Roman street. Gwyn had taken turns riding with the men the whole way from the glade. She was fairie-sized so she easily fit on the farmer's saddles with the men. She changed from riding in front of Raynar or Alan about once an hour, to save the horses. She never sat with John. There wasn't room, and his poor horse was carrying enough weight without her.

  All four of them had different quests in Chester, but the quests were all related to why Edwin was there. The Welsh princes would be there, meeting with the most powerful English lords of Mercia and Northumbria. This gave John a chance to show samples of his bodkin points. It gave Alan the chance to set up a trade in Welsh bows and bowstaves. It gave Gwyn a chance to speak with other Welsh seers about the strange visions she had been having ever since her day on mushrooms. It fulfilled Raynar's promise to Hereward to bear witness to the copy of the Writ from the sheriff of Peterburgh.

  Chester was full of men. Rough warriors from around the shires had come with their lords. The alehouses were a riot of noise, but the warriors had all sworn a peace at the gates to the town, so there was no fighting. Or, well, at least no fighting using weapons.

  They entered the town by the East Gate, and eventually found Hereward's camp. He and his skirmishers were sleeping in an empty monastic barn with half a roof. Raynar was left to care for the horses and the packs, because the others had learned that today was market day, and the biggest market of the week would be the best starting point for each of their quests.

  After settling the horses, Raynar took a climb up a builder's climbing pole to the half finished roof of the barn. From there he could look almost completely in a circle. Chester was like no other town he had ever visited. He wondered if this was what London looked like. It was certainly a finer place than York.

  All the towns he had visited before Chester had the occasional stone work left by the ancient Romans, but usually only the stone streets were still in use. In Chester, the stone work was everywhere and much was still in use. The most notable was the wall. Raynar had never seen such a big wall. Near the East Gate and the barn there was even a stone fort that was still used by the town's watch.

  "Fuckin' marvelous isn't it?" said a roofer who was straddling a beam. "The wall, I mean. The ancient wall is a big square around the old town, but there are more walls that were built in my granda's day to keep the Vikings off the river. They keep us safe, they does. Chestermen fear no one, cause no one can get in."

  The roofer slid along the beam and continued working. "Town is packed with lords right now. That's why you have to sleep in this barn. Inns full, alehouses full, stone houses all full. I'll have to give up ale if they stay much longer. Price goes up every day."

  Raynar saw Hereward stride into the camp and he nodded farewell to the roofer and worked his way down the pole.

  "You always were one for climbing for a look see," called Hereward as he waved him over. "I am glad you are here. I need someone to bitch to. The lords chose this time to meet because William is busy crowning his wife in Winchester, which means his army is not on the move. Instead of using the opportunity to prepare a plan and swear some mutual protection treaties, they are sitting around bitching about old squabbles with each other, like, like, like ... fish wives."

  Raynar realized he was not required to answer. Hereward was just ranting out his frustrations.

  "The problem is that we don't have a leader. Everyone is afraid of being sacrificed to William so no one is volunteering to do what must be done. The Welsh want the Normans dead. They have the best skirmishers and the best bowmen. The Danes want them dead. They have the best axemen and a thousand ships. The Saxons want them dead. They have twice the shieldmen that we need to do the job. And no one at this meeting is committing to anything."

  "Do they know where the Normans army is now?" asked Raynar

  "The Welsh retreated from the Marches this spring while William's army ravaged it, but that army is now back around Winchester for Mathilde's coronation. A large Norman garrison has been sent to Warwick, which is close to Edwin's lands, and another garrison to Hereford to replace the one that the Welsh just shamed."

  Raynar was glum. "So nothing has changed since Harold was killed, then. No one wants to be the first in battle. The first will be hurt the most, so if you come late to the battle, you will be the strongest after it is won."

  "Finally, someone who understands, " said Hereward, calming a little. "The Danes don't want to take their ships to Dover to block William's ships until William has lost his army. They don't want to bring their axemen south because that would leave Yorkshire undefended.

  The Welsh don't want to go as far as Warwick, because if they take losses they have too far to retreat back to Wales. The Saxons don't want to press with their shieldmen because they cannot attack the cavalry but only defend. If they lose they will be cut to pieces while retreating, like King Harold was. "

  "That's not true," said Raynar.

  "What's not true?"

  "Harold’s army was not cut to pieces while retreating."

  "They were."

  "Not according to Edgar. He was in charge of the camp and the horses. Listen to what
Edgar told me, but remember that he was barely sixteen at the time.

  Harold lost his best men on Senlac hill face, trying to hold the defensive line. Those that were able to retreat to Edgar’s position at the camp, were safe. By the time the battle turned into a rout it was near dark. Edgar had done what Harold had told him to do. He had the camp defenders build a ditch between the camp on the hill, and the Norman position, and then fill it with sharpened stakes.

  The shieldmen leaving the hill ran to safety behind the ditch. The Normans charged after them but the light was bad and they rode straight into the ditch. Rank after rank of them. That was why William did not give chase to London and instead went back to the coast. He lost almost as many knights to that bloody ditch, as he did to Harold’s shieldmen."

  The story had silenced the entire camp. Some of the men had been with Edwin's reinforcements that had arrived too late to save Harold.

  "A ditch with stakes," said Hereward.

  "A ditch with stakes," repeated Raynar.

  One of the listening men said, "So if we had enough archers and pikemen, we wouldn't need shieldmen. We could replace them with a ditch with stakes." And so started the a round of rough humor, such as, "It makes sense. I've met many a ditch that was smarter than a shieldman," and, "The shieldmen just stand there like a stake anyway. At least you don't have to feed a stake."

  "One of your languages is Welsh, is it not?" Hereward asked quietly while the humor continued on a louder and bawdier note.

  "I know some simple Welsh, though I can't read or write it," replied Raynar. "Do you need an interpreter? I have a Welsh woman traveling with me who knows Saxon and a bit of the Dane."

  At that moment the men quieted their tone and spoke with less color. Gwyn walked into the camp with John.

  "The giant and the fairie," chuckled Hereward. "A Welsh fairie, you say. We are meeting with the Welsh princes Bleddyn and Rhiwallon tomorrow. Will you come, and bring the fairie?"

  "I will gladly go," replied Raynar quickly, "if you think I can be of help."

  Gwyn had heard the last of the talk. "There is no need to take me to visit Bleddyn and Rhiwallon tomorrow. I will already be at Rhiwallon's house. His wife has invited me. We met in the market."

  They all looked towards John, and he nodded. "It was a good market. Alan and I found some Welsh bowyers willing to trade bows for my heavy points. Alan has gone drinking with them, and I go to join them now that Gwyn is safe here." John grabbed his cloak from the back of his saddle. "While we were demonstrating the points, we left Gwyn with the herb sellers. When we came to get her she was in discussions with three women, and when we tried to approach, we were blocked by spearmen."

  "Rhiwallon's wife has an ache," explained Gwyn. "I was helping her. She told her guards to allow only women in the herb area while she was there. You did know that Prince Rhiwallon keeps a house in Chester, didn't you? As an embassy."

  "John," said Raynar, "mind Alan and bring him back early. We can stretch this invitation so that you can both meet the Welsh princes. Through them we may get a better bargain on the bows."

  Later that night, after John and Alan were in an ale sleep and snoring under their cloaks, and Gwyn was curled near the coals of the fire, Hereward touched Raynar’s shoulder. "We meet the princes at mid morning at Rhiwallon's house."

  Raynar peeked out of his cloak and saw Hereward’s face in the light from the coals. "I will already be there. I will escort Gwyn, and pretend that I speak no Welsh. Perhaps I will hear something of interest before you come."

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  It was because Rhiwallon was Welsh that Raynar expected his house to be squat and of wattle with a thatch roof. He did not expect a stone house, and he did not expect a stone house with floors made from tiny colored tiles in designs and pictures. Gwyn and Raynar were allowed past the guard at the gate and took only four paces before they stopped and stared with open mouths at the designs in the floors.

  A woman recognized Gwyn and came and took her by the hand to lead her to the women's wing. As she walked she talked. "It is a Roman house. There was also one across the street that was in ruin, so Rhiwallon used it as a quarry to rebuild this one. See the colored tiles on the floor, and see the tile roof? That is how you know it was Roman."

  Raynar followed closely to hear more, until the guard yelled at him that he was not allowed in the women's wing. He almost turned at the order, until he remembered that he was pretending not to understand Welsh. He kept up to Gwyn until the guard repeated the order in English. He watched which door Gwyn entered and then spun on this heels and walked back to the guard.

  "This house is unlike any I have seen," he said in English. "Are there many like it in Chester?"

  The guard was bored, and he enjoyed proving himself smarter than a Saxon, so he told Raynar many things about Roman houses, and about Roman Chester. He showed Raynar a small room next to the kitchen that he said was the fire room, and that it heated the washing water and the floors in the winter.

  Raynar was skeptical, until a large man sat up from a straw bed and told him that it was all true. The man was not Welsh, but he cracked a jest at Raynar's expense to the guard in Welsh. It takes a good knowledge of a language to use it in jests.

  "I am Eadric of Ludlow," he said in Saxon, "and an outlaw in Shropshire."

  "I am Raynar of the Peaks," Raynar replied, "and an outlaw in Nottinghamshire."

  "Have you noticed that all the best men are outlaws?"

  "You mean freemen who still fight the Normans."

  "I will warn you that once I was a lord," replied Eadric, "but I find life easier dressed as a freeman. I am hurt to the heart that you have never heard of me."

  "Since you are the guest of a Welsh prince, I would guess that you helped them push the Normans out of Hereford last year."

  A woman with mussed hair and sleepy eyes sat up beside Eadric, saw there were other men present, and dropped out of sight again behind him. There was the sound of rustling and wriggling, and then she sat up again, this time clothed. She hopped over Eadric and found her slippers, told the guard to keep quiet about this else he wouldn't be eating fresh bread at the kitchen door anymore, and skipped to the next door, which must have been the kitchen.

  Eadric told the guard that he could return to the gate, and that he would watch the stranger. He reached to an aleskin hanging from a nail and took a squeeze of it, but it was empty. Raynar passed him his. He took some good slugs of it and then belched and said, "Ahhh, that's better."

  "If you are a lord, why do you dress as a freeman?" asked Raynar skeptically.

  "Same reason my men all dress in homespun. So as not to be noticed. Have you eaten yet?" He looked up at the height of the sun. "Of course you have. Well stay with me while I eat." He motioned over to a bench outside the kitchen door. "I'll order in the kitchen. I have connections there.” He pulled his boots on, and strapped his weapons belt on, and went next door.

  Eadric ate his food while sitting on a bench in the sun outside the kitchen. Raynar was still in wonder at the Roman house. Its roofs extended well into the courtyard beyond the walls of the buildings, so that there were sitting places everywhere outside, yet still under a roof.

  "I like the design of this manor. I wonder how many others like it there are?" asked Raynar.

  "If you mean in Chester, perhaps a handful," replied Eadric. "If you go across the Manche, they are countless. But they have a fierce sun there and you need these overhanging roofs for the midday shade."

  "It must be luxurious to live in."

  "Cold and damp most of the year," Eadric mumbled. "No matter how many sleep in the hall, you can't keep it warm in the winter. All the heat disappears up through the tile roof. I'll take a thatch roof any day." He pushed the last chunk of buttered bread into his mouth.

  "So how did you attack the Normans at Hereford?" asked Raynar. "The gossip is that there were a lot of them."

  "We didn't attack them," corrected Eadric.

  "How did you
beat them if you didn't attack them?"

  "Just waited around and drank ale, and eventually they surrendered. Sounds funny doesn't it, but that is what happened."

  "Quit your jesting." replied Raynar. "I am being serious. I fight Normans. I need to know what works and what doesn't."

  "No jest. With the archers and pikemen of Bleddyn and Rhiwallon, and with the Saxon shieldmen that followed me, we outnumbered them five to one. The Normans had finished digging the motte, and were almost finished the bailey, so we stretched our shield wall in front of their gate and put the pikemen at each end, and the archers in the middle. They looked out at us from the wall, saw the Welsh bows, and decided not to attack us that day."

  Both of them took drinks of a very thin hot gruel flavoured with salt and mint. So simple, yet so tasty.

  "The princes decided that the Normans must be waiting for nightfall, or for reinforcements, and they didn't want to be surprised by either. We had some shieldmen race up the slope of the motte with their shields over their heads and throw all our caltrops down in front of the gate. You know caltrops, the spikes for horses hoofs." He saw Raynar nod and continued.

  "That was it. They never did come out to fight. We made camp around the outside of the ditch, which was now protecting us rather than them, and the archers kept a watch to make sure they didn't send men out to collect the caltrops, and we waited. It was late summer and bloody hot. The thing is, they had no well in the bailey yet, and the men and beasts were crowded together with no shade at midday. After four days, they surrendered, and we sent them back to Winchester barefoot and weaponless."

  "So you can beat a bailey by thirst, without a fight," Raynar said half to himself.

  "Aye, but you need caltrops and archers to keep them from escaping, and an angel to keep the rain away."