by Smith, Skye
Raynar saw a bow in the corner and went over and picked it up. It was taller than he was. He could not flex it enough to string it. John strung it for him, but then Raynar could not fully draw it. "That is how it should be," John told him, "for it is John's bow and no one but John should be drawing it."
Over a meal with John's parents, Raynar told of his plan to run archery tournaments at every summer fete. His plan met a silence. Raynar realized that he had made it sound too much like fun for the summer, and not enough like work. He spent the night telling stories of the Thames, and of being a boatman, and told them all the news of kings and earls.
* * * * *
In the morning he hiked to the Porters Glade. The welcome was as warm as ever but the place did not look as prosperous or as bustling as normal. With Gwyn locked to one of his arms, he wandered about saying his hellos and finding out who was new and who was missing. The question of who was missing was a delicate one in a hamlet where injured miners came to be healed, or to die.
"The mine is on half shifts," said a miner with a broken leg in a splint, "and everyone is hungry for work and for food."
He looked over towards his overfilled porter's basket. He had brought bolts of cloth and sweets from the market at Derby. Last time he had been away, these were the gifts that brought him the most hugs. Perhaps he should have brought corn this time, for the people about him all looked like they were hungry, and had been hungry for some time.
He questioned Gwyn about this, and she told him that when he was not here in the winter, there was no one who was as good as he at putting venison on the table. Raynar felt his guilt clear to the bone. Of course, it was a camp of widows and children. The men were too sick to hunt. Because of his winter on the Thames, these children were thin, and the women thinner. Guilt grew in his stomach and made him feel ill.
"And the shillings I left with you?" asked Raynar.
"It was a hungry year here in the Peaks. Pork was unavailable. The older horses and oxen were eaten. The price of mutton doubled. The shillings did not last. Here in the glade we sometimes had venison, from Alan O'Dale the forester, but he must shoulder it a long way."
Raynar pulled out a purse heavy with silver coins and placed it in her hands. She smiled up at him and kissed his cheek at his generosity. His stomach unclenched and he felt better. There was an agreeable justice in using the purse of a would-be-rapist Norman knight to feed widows and their children.
The meal that night was thin gruel made from stale corn and kale and mutton fat. He slept that night with the injured miners so he could tell them all the news. Only four had survived the winter. The next day he took his bow into the forest and that night the glade feasted on venison. Raynar was back.
The problems of the tiny hamlet in the glade, Raynar could help with, but the problems of the valley were beyond him. The market for lead was gone. It was not just that the price was down, but that no one was buying at any price, because no one was building. No one was building because the future under the Normans was unsure.
The Welsh miners were leaving the mines and moving their families back to Wales, where life was now better than in the Peaks. The Welsh widows and their children, who tended to stay on at the glade for a while after their miner husbands died, were going with them back to Wales.
The porters of the valley were endlessly mobile and many had moved on to other work in other places, even other shires. With fewer sheep there were fewer shepherds in the high pastures around them. With fewer working porters to buy meals and other treats from the widows of the glade, and with the children of the glade no longer needed by the shepherds, the hamlet of the Porter's Glade was no longer self sustaining.
The cure for what ailed this valley was the same as the cure for what ailed the north. The folk needed peace so they could rebuild the herds, and replant the crops, and not have everything taken from them by the roving foragers of marching armies.
The third day, Raynar portered a sack of oats up from Grindel. The fourth day he shot a boar and as a reward for his generosity of the purse and the corn and the venison, Gwyn took him into her bed.
"Who was she?" Gwyn asked, as her body relaxed after fifteen minutes of intense pleasure that had taken her to the point of losing consciousness.
"Who was who?" he asked, but he was really wondering when it would be his turn.
"Who was the woman who showed you how to do that?" gasped Gwyn. "Oh bless her and her inner goddess."
Raynar was relieved that the question was not from jealousy. "She was the daughter of the boatman I helped on the river Thames. We slept together all winter. I mean, it wasn't all like this. At first we didn't even sleep together, and then for a long time we just cuddle fucked because we shared the room with her father. Eventually her father began sleeping in the boat, and she would do things to me that raised my voice to high and girly. Later, she showed me how to make her writhe in ecstasy. Would you like some more?"
"No, Yes, I mean later."
"Later when?" he asked.
"Later like when the whole camp isn't listening and giggling," she said as she rolled on top of him and began kissing first his lips, and then his neck, and then his chest, and then his tummy, and then his... and of course she didn't stop kissing there until he was writhing and moaning with a voice like a teenage girl.
Later, when they were both exhausted, and were sipping the strong dark porter's ale that the widows of the glade brewed to sell to the porters, they began to swap stories. Well not really stories, more like observances of life now that they were growing older.
"Were there any man problems while I was gone?" he asked as he nestled into her tiny breasts. Gwyn was very slight of build. A Welsh fairy.
"You mean women being forced. No, the men were on their best behavior. They waited until invited, and paid if and what they were asked."
"That surprises me, ten widows here without the protection of a man. Rough mountain men eating with them, and drinking this porter ale, and stopping overnight if there were storms. I find it hard to believe." he shrugged.
"What make you think we weren't protected?" she replied as she pushed his hand away from her thighs and whispered, "Later."
Raynar sat up and looked at her, and gave her a look to encourage her to keep talking.
"You," she said, "Your reputation protected us. The last time someone raped a woman from this glade, you hung him on a church fence with an arrow through his throat."
"That was not for rape, but for a murder most foul," he objected. Memories of his sister were welcome, but not memories of her death.
"The legend spoken of up and down this valley says rape. I choose not to correct it."
They settled back down into each others arms and Raynar told her of his plan for holding archery tournaments at the summer fetes. She thought it was a wonderful idea. Later she made him use a girly voice again.
The next day Raynar went to visit old Hugh Farehyrde, the shepherd of the high alpine meadows. He found him at the big cave. The flock was less than half the size of the previous year. Hugh was helping birth a lamb when he arrived. The lamb was born dead, so they cooked it and ate it, for it was a delicacy reserved for shepherds, and it was absolutely delicious.
A young girl shared the oh-so-tender meat with them. Usually Hugh had children from the glade help him with his flocks because he was getting too old to chase strays across the mountain terrain. Raynar didn't recognize this girl so Hugh introduced her, "Raynar, this is my grand daughter Marion. She is almost six so I thought it time for me to get to know her."
"I am amazed her mother let her come." said Raynar. Hugh used to be a lord, but after his wife had died he had passed on his estate early to his son, and had chosen the solitary life of a shepherd over the life of a lord. It was a strange shepherd indeed whose entire family were born to the manor.
"Her mother is Britta. I think you met her father Osgar. Garrick was his brother."
The thought of Garrick made Raynar shudder i
nvoluntarily. He sent a silent curse with a spit to the ground. It was Garrick who had raped and then murdered his sister Leola just three years ago in these very same high pastures. "Yes, I have met them all. How does Britta fare?"
"She is a widow now. Osgar died at the battle of Fulford."
"And your other daughter Sonja, how does she fare?"
"She is nearly a widow. Old man Sweyn hangs on to life from day to day. An illness of the liver. He hates you by the way. You took Garrick from him, so Osgar had to answer the call to battle, and now he has neither. Both of my daughters are enjoying their baby sons, but the old man will not see his wee son, nor his wee grandson get much older."
Raynar looked over Hugh's shoulder and across the lower ridge to the east and the haze that was the low pastures near Loxley and a sudden fear gripped his heart. "So the manor will have two widows with two baby sons and no mature heirs and no men to command a guard." Raynar punched his fist towards the sky, and yelled, "No, the fates cannot be so twisted." It was then that Raynar told old Hugh about the Norman evil of Dead and Bed.
When he was finished the telling, and finished answering Hugh's questions, Hugh asked a favour. "You must go to Sonja and Britta, and tell them what you just told me, and escort them both to our family manor. There give your warning to my son, and ask him on my behalf to keep his sisters safe. I don't care if the Normans take Old Sweyn's manor, so long as they don't hurt my family."
Hugh paused to think. "And Raynar, take Marion with you, and send me two of the older boys from your glade. Marion is still too young to be up here."
They sat in silence and listened to the fat on the lamb sizzle as it dropped into the cooking fire. Eventually Hugh said "Tell me Raynar, tell me what I refuse to ask for. Tell me what is happening with earls and kings." And Raynar did, and he talked long, and Hugh said nothing. He just moaned and grimaced and spat a curse to the ground each time he heard that the fates had decided a cast of the dice in favour of the Normans.
* * * * *
Marion was a bright and happy child, and she bubbled with joy at every new wonder she saw on the way down to the glade. For only the last two miles did Raynar have to carry her on his shoulders. At the glade Raynar called to some of the widows and introduced her as Hugh’s grand daughter. She was to be a guest of the glade for the night before he took her home to Loxley manor.
The girls of the glade surrounded Marion to look at the cut of her clothes, and then called their mothers to see. The mothers coaxed her out of her clothes and wrapped her in a blanket while they stretched them out to create patterns so they could copy them. Perhaps the new bolts of cloth were a good gift after all.
Raynar gathered the boys of the glade to him and asked for two volunteers to live the summer with Old Hugh. As he expected he was forced to make the choice, so he chose the two eldest, for that was what Hugh had requested. He told them where to find Hugh, and one boy knew the place having spent two summers there already.
The boys fetched their mothers and Raynar told them what was happening, and that they should leave to join Hugh in the morning. Raynar gave each of the boys a sling belt to practice with while they watched sheep, and promised to teach them archery in the autumn when they returned. Hopefully by next winter, they would be providing the glade with venison.
That night, after pleasuring Gwyn, he lay there awake for a long time. Sending the boys off had reminded him of how happy he had been growing up here. He remembered the day his own father first sent him off to go and help the shepherds. Why was it, that when he was young the hardships of living in this wild place seem like happy times, and yet now the plight of the people in this hamlet tugged at his heartstrings.
Gwyn wriggled into a spooning position and pushed herself onto him. Sexually connecting with her was not like connecting with any other woman. It was as if they became one person, with one body, and of one breath while they were connected. Gwyn had told him that it was because they both had the 'healers touch'.
How silly that name was, because to heal by touch, you actually had to hover your hand and not touch. It should have been called the 'healers nontouch' or the 'healers hover'. That was his last thought before he shared a dream with Gwyn that seemed to be about a Welsh fairy tale that included white horses with one horn on their forehead and tiny folk with pointed ears.
In the morning, when she was having her turn and writhing in ecstasy on the bed, she taught him how to put her into a goddess state. "When a woman is in the throws of orgasm," she told him breathlessly, "she no longer wants to be touched in those oh, so sensitive places. But you, because of your healers touch, can touch her there without touching. Use your healer's touch on me there, now, oh please."
"Are you sure?" he asked, as he centered his thoughts and allowed the warmth to grow in the palm of his right hand.
"Oh yes," she said. "Oh yes," she moaned. "Oh yes, yes, yes," she moaned and then she lost consciousness.
He took his hand away and watched her carefully. To his relief she was still breathing, still moaning ever so softly. Occasionally she would spasm, like when you are dreaming of walking and miss a step and jerk to save yourself even though it was only a dream. All the time she was talking with someone, but he could not quite catch the words. They were the merest of whispers and in Welsh.
Just as he was about to ask Gwyn who she was talking to, her mother walked through the door without knocking. She took one look at her daughter, lying there in a trance on the bed, and she knew everything. She slapped him hard across the face and shook her daughter out of her trance. She was seething as she put her hands behind Gwyn's head and pulled their faces together.
"How dare you teach him this. It is divine knowledge, secret knowledge. It is unnatural, he is unnatural. It is worrisome enough that any man should have the healing touch, but now he knows how to call forth the goddess. He is a man, a comely man, so of course he will abuse it. May the goddess forgive you, for I won't."
* * * * *
The next day Raynar and Marion walked down the porterway to Hathersage and stopped in to say good day to John. As soon as John's mother saw Marion, they were forced to stay for a meal. John thought it a strange errand that Raynar was about for Hugh, but Raynar simply said he was doing it for Britta, not for Hugh.
"She is Britta's child" exclaimed John and he swung the girl up playfully and looked at her face and her eyes. From that moment on, it became John's errand to return of the child to Britta. It was just as well, for Raynar had not been near Scafeld since the day he had executed Garrick. A lot of Scafeld's gamblers lost purses betting against him on that day, and if they recognized him, it would be good to have John at his side.
While he was sitting quietly watching John's mom fuss about with Marion, John brought Raynar's Byzantine composite bow to him. John had been trying to copy it. "It is impossible. The parts of wood and bone I have shaped, and the sinew I have matched, but I cannot match the glue that combines them all into a bow. I think that you will have to travel to Constantinople to find a bowyer that knows that secret, and he would probably prefer to die before telling it to you."
He handed the bow to Raynar "A bow that is so difficult to make will not serve our folk well. The folk can make a good bow from a ywen stave at no cost to them except for the metal points of the arrows. Take it with you. I have no use for it anymore."
"Umm, that is wise advice," Raynar replied. "The men of Scafeld may remember the crook of my staffbow even if they don't remember my face. Yes, I will carry my Byzantine bow to Marion's house."
Hours later, as they approached Scafeld on the north fork of the path, Marion showed them the shortcut to her manor, and ran ahead to call out for her mother. John pointed to the ridge, Stanage Edge, to the south of the Manor's land. "I'll bet you there is a path down to the ponds over there. The ponds are this side of that bend in the valley. That would explain why Sonja and Britta use the ponds for bathing. They know a shortcut down."
Raynar’s response was, "John, rem
ember what your mother told you. Manners at the manor. No alehouse talk. No slapping bottoms. Be soft and meek, and whatever you do, do not mention our times with them at the ponds." Those shared times with the sisters had been very sensual and sexual and completely secret.
Britta was a bit stiff at the sight of both Raynar and John, but relaxed when Raynar told her that Hugh had sent Marion home with them. "He says she is still too young for the high pastures and would have her home safe until she is older." Britta offered them ale, which they accepted and drank at a bench outside the manor. Marion ran to find Sonja and brought her by the hand to join them, and then politely introduced her.
It was all very embarrassing for everyone but the child, because these two older married women had three years ago taken the virginities of both of these young men. The silence was unnerving, so finally Raynar asked Marion to go in the house, and then he began to tell the women about the Dead and Bed tactic of the Normans. When he had finished, he told them the message from Hugh.
"I don't believe it. " said Britta. " I have met the Norman knights who are billeted in Scafeld and they are very gallant and polite."
"Hmm," said Raynar, "Never be alone with them. You are already a widow and so you will be marked for betrothal by rape. Have the Normans taken over the courts yet?"
"Yes they have," Britta replied, "just last week."
"Then you have no time to debate what I tell you. You must take your children and go to your brother and live under his protection as your father tells you," demanded Raynar.
"And if we don't," said Sonja stubbornly.
"Then we must stay here and kill the Normans when they come." said Raynar quietly.
Sonja and Britta looked at Raynar and then at John. John nodded his head slowly, once, and stroked the belly of his giant bow.
Sonja took charge. "Britta, we have always trusted these men. I see no reason to stop now. The servants can care for my husband. He is beyond knowing the difference. Get all the children and some clothes for each. I will have the groom prepare the cart and meet us here. Anything we need, we can send back for. It is only four miles by road. Raynar you must come with us, to explain this to my brother, or rather, to his wife. "