by Smith, Skye
The baron sat on a stool and looked up into Raynar's eyes as if searching for the truth. The eye's that stared back were striking in color and size, attractive, and yet he felt a cold shiver down his spine from their gaze. They gave nothing away. "It will be as you say. I will send you a woman..."
"I have no need of a woman who has been ordered to please me," interrupted Raynar.
"... to clean your clothes and to groom you," finished Fulk. "The kitchen opens at first light for the change of guard."
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The Hoodsman - Revolt of the Earls by Skye Smith
Chapter 14 - Prince Gruffydd in Dudley Staffordshire in July 1102
At the appointed time, Brunt led the horse through the briefly opened bailey gate. He had been instructed on what to do should Raynar not return. He helped boost Raynar into the saddle and then backed through the gate as a lone Welsh rider rode forward. The Welsh were camped less than two miles to the north, and they had many pickets posted in expectation of trouble. As they closed on the first of the pickets a hooded rider joined them and looked closely into Raynar’s face.
"Well met Raynar Porter," said the man who now pulled off his hood to show his face. "It has been a long time and many miles since '98 when we held the Menai water against Fat Hugh." The man was Gruffydd himself. "Lad," he said to the guide "this is the Raynar of the Peaks from the ballad where Magnus of Norway and Golden Harp enchanted Hugh of Shrewsbury so that the Welsh could slaughter the armies of Chester and Shrewsbury."
"How is Golden Harp?" asked Raynar. Golden Harp was the religious name of his lifelong friend Gwyn. Gwyn the healer, Gwyn the seer, Gwyn the harpist, Gwyn the Welsh miner's daughter who had explored the vales and tors of the Peaks with him in his youth, and had taught him much of what he knew to be useful in this life.
"She does not age in looks," replied Gruffydd, "but she does not sing for long hours any more. She is safely in Ireland with my family until this campaign is finished."
"This campaign is finished today. Ride for the border and place garrisons to hold that border against any who come."
"No, do not speak politics yet," interrupted Gruffydd, "save it for the meal table so that my council can hear it. Did Magnus ever give you back your wonderful eastern bow?"
"No, it was my payment to him for helping us to surprise Hugh's army. It was all that he wanted. He thought that the bow that killed Harald Hardrada, King of Norway, General of Constantinople, must be a magic bow. I am not saying that Gwyn did not encourage that thought. Ah well, it found a good home. It will look wonderful mounted on the wall of his great hall for all to see as he tells his story of the magical shot that downed Fat Hugh. The bow was old and passed it's time anyway."
As they rode through the camp Raynar was mentally counting types of men, mounts, and armour. Gruffydd laughed at him trying to do the count candidly. If the roles were switched he would be doing the same. A long table of planks was set up near a kitchen tent and it was already full with men. Gruffydd sat at the head and motioned Raynar to join him there.
Raynar was purposefully slow to sit so he could better study the faces of the other men. He was looking for the other princes, but saw neither of them. He saw only two faces that he remembered from Anglesey and both men nodded to him. Gruffydd tired of waiting for him to sit, and stood again beside him. "This is Raynar of the Peaks, a good friend of mine, a brother to Golden Harp, and an ally of Wales." He then named the rest of the men at the meal, including the cook who was eavesdropping while his pots came to boil.
The food was typical army camp swill made from yesterdays best leftovers mixed with gruel and served with campfire bread. It was wolfed down and more replaced it. When the pace of munching finally slowed, Raynar was asked how he came to be in Dudley castle wearing the clothes of a king's tax collector.
Raynar knew how much these men enjoyed a good story, so he began slowly by explaining how Henry had used English bowmen using Welsh bows to settle the civil war with his brother Duke Robert of Normandy. He then explained how the Norman lords with honors on both sides of the Manche preferred Robert over Henry, especially once the impact of Henry's Coronation Charter had been understood.
At this point he opened his map pipe and pulled out two copies of the Coronation Charter. One was as originally published in Latin, and the other was a quick translation that Raynar had made into Welsh from an English version.
The young monk who was seated with the cook near to the kitchen was called forward and he compared the two versions. He confirmed that the translation was near enough, and then took the Latin version into safe keeping so as to make his own copies and translations. The rest of the men drank ale while they waited for the monk to retire, and then they sat forward and listened carefully while Gruffydd read out from the Welsh version.
"I am confused," Raynar began again, "as to why the princes of Wales are helping the very Norman Earls who slaughtered so many good Welsh folk, and came close to erasing Wales as a kingdom. I am confused as to why they are not helping King Henry to reverse the damage done by King Rufus and his father."
There was much blustering around the table, but the prince silenced them and spoke for all. "For five years Rufus let the Earls of the March be his agents with, or rather, against the Welsh. We have had no contact with the English court except through these Earls. We expected no difference from Henry, and saw great advantage in the promises of the Earl of Shrewsbury which gave us back most of the land we had lost, as well as pickings from Staffordshire and Derbyshire. What would you have us do?"
"Run. Run for your lives," said Raynar quietly. There was such silence at the table that the sounds of the rest of the camp seemed loud, and then some of the chiefs near him began to laugh.
"Run from whom?" asked the closest chief. We crossed Shropshire without resistance as was promised to us by Belleme, and have taken what we wanted from Staffordshire, also with little resistance. The lords hide in their baileys and wait for us to leave. When we came, only a third of us were mounted. Now we are all mounted, and have spares. Run from whom?"
"Henry has taken Belleme's great castle at Arundel with little loss. He is on his way to Bridgnorth to do the same. He has siege engines and over five hundred heavy cavalry. The lords of Staffordshire are staying safe behind their walls until they can join him."
"Belleme is stronger," interrupted the same chief. "We will let Henry and Belleme slaughter each other and then we will feed on the remains."
"I was not finished. Henry also has a thousand infantry and a thousand bowmen. Not archers, but bowmen armed with Welsh bows."
"We are Belleme's bowmen," interrupted the chief. "It is a closer match, but the same for us, and no reason to run."
Raynar smiled. This chief was doing his work for him. "Again, I had not finished. For the first time in thirty years, the King of the English is able to raise the fyrd and the fyrd is listening because the call actually comes from his English queen. The English want Henry's charter to save them from the tyranny of lords such as Belleme." There was a hush at the table.
"How many?" asked Gruffydd.
"The call has been out for less than a week and already the men of the south are arming themselves and making for Staffordshire. By now the call will have reached every shire in Mercia. If you think there will be ten thousand on the march to Stafford by now, you are possibly right. But not ten thousand in total. Think ten thousand a week, for every week that it takes to defeat Belleme. Run Gruffydd. Run for you border. Strip Shropshire on your way if you must, but be on your way today."
"Do you speak true to us?" Gruffydd thought aloud. "Of course you do. You were always true. Does Belleme know this?" asked Gruffydd.
"If not yet, then soon. If you wish to wait for the fyrd to see their number, then at least move your men out of Staffordshire and wait for the fyrd on the other side of Bridgnorth, on the other side of the Severn, in Shropshire. The English will not go further than that until Robert Meulan
takes the castle at Bridgnorth."
"It has been under siege for more than two months," said the chief, "and they have yet to breach a wall. We have been harrying them, so they had to make their camp on the east side of the Severn and fortify it. That put their siege engines out of range, so then they had to build a hill to place them on. It is shaped like an upside down pan, and when it rains, the earth turns to pudding. That siege will still take him months more."
"That siege will take him days," corrected Raynar. "Bridgnorth will see the fyrd hoard and seek terms."
The prince called to the cook, who looked up from own bowl. "Please take Raynar to the horses and let him choose any of them for his own." Raynar knew he was being dismissed from the table so that the chiefs could talk and plan. He did not mind, and a good spare horse was always welcome.
While he and the cook were wandering through the best of the horses, other men were saddling their own. Messengers were being sent out to gather in the foraging parties and to spread the word to the other princes. Scouts were being sent out to watch the highways. The noises of the camp were changing, becoming more urgent. Tents were being struck and bags packed. The prince came to find them.
"Tell Henry for me, that we were tricked by Belleme, but now know the truth of it," said Gruffydd. "Tell him that we will weaken Belleme on our way back to Wales so that his task will be easier." He grasped Raynar’s arm. "Thank you friend. We will go now, so as to hold on to what we have already won. The spoils of Staffordshire and of Shropshire will go with us across the border. We will hold the Welsh border so that Belleme cannot retreat in that direction, and we will kill the Norman lords that he has placed on Welsh land."
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The old man kept his vigil on the wall of the bailey. Brunt sat with him waiting. Welsh riders had passed by the castle in twos and in small groups and each time the baron climbed the stairs and paced until they were sure that Raynar was not with them.
"Dust," yelled the old man and he clanged the metal to sound the alarm. "The dust of a host of horses coming towards us."
Everyman fighting man climbed the walls where their weapons were already neatly stacked. Other men and women grabbed buckets and made ready to fight the inevitable fires. The children and the aged hid in the safety of the great hall, which had a lead roof rather than thatch.
The dust cloud came ever closer and finally the first of the riders were seen, and behind them horse carts were strung out and moving fast for carts. Raynar was riding with the lead horsemen and they cut away from the main column and rode to the castle gate.
"Baron Fulk," Raynar called up, "are my men ready to leave. Please send them out." The barons head disappeared for a few moments and then he was back. "Baron, may I present Gruffydd ap Cynan, prince of Wales and the most recent ally of King Henry of the English."
There were cheers from around the wall as the word spread. The castle was safe, the folk in it were safe. There would be no battle, no cripples, no death, no mourning.
The gate creaked open only enough to allow Raynar's party to leave the castle and then it slammed shut again. Brunt rode forward leading the two couriers from Arundel, while the other bowmen rode behind them. The couriers looked at the Welsh prince and there was sadness and worry written on their faces. They must have heard the news. Good news for the English but bad news for all the lords who were sworn to Belleme.
Raynar saw the worry in Brunt's face and spoke to his party. "These lands are dangerous with raiders about, so I have arrange an escort to take us to Earl Robert in safety." Both Brunt and the prince's guard laughed at the jest, even more so since it was true. A head with white hair looked down from the wall and Raynar looked up at it and called, "Live long, old man, this kingdom needs men with long memories." He chuckled to himself. The old man was probably a few years younger than himself.
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The Hoodsman - Revolt of the Earls by Skye Smith
Chapter 15 - The siege of Bridgnorth Castle in July 1102
Despite being a mounted army, the Welsh could only travel as fast as the horse carts and the livestock they herded. They had left the oxen and the ox carts near Dudley for any ox cart had but one speed, a snails crawl. It took them until almost sunset to reach Bridgnorth and the chiefs decided to camp on the east side of the Severne because they did not think their entire army could cross the Severn before dark.
Raynar and his bowmen had raced ahead to spread the news that the Welsh on the highway from Staffordshire were the king's men. As they approached Meulan's siege fort which faced Bridgnorth castle, they brushed the dust from their king's tunics and donned their official cloaks. When scouts approached them from the fort, Brunt led the couriers away out of earshot, while Raynar flashed his treasury badge and sought an audience with Meulan. There was no sense in showing these scouts the letter to Meulan from Henry, as they were men of action, not men of letters.
Meulan sent for them immediately, though that was probably because they were coming from Staffordshire, and he would want to confirm reports that a large column of Welsh was heading his way. Raynar introduced himself, and asked for a private audience, rather than the headquarters tent. Meulan conceded slightly by move them over to a corner of the huge tent and telling the men already there to go and find some ale for the travelers.
Only then did Raynar hand him the letter from Henry. Meulan needed help to read all of it, for a quarter of it was in code. A cleric was called to them and he set about deciphering it on the small table nearby. When Meulan had read the complete message his attitude began to change.
"You were ordered to make terms with the Welsh princes?" he said wide eyed "and then to help me finish this siege."
"Both tasks are almost complete," replied Raynar. "I have already spoken to Prince Gruffydd and he claims to have been tricked by his enemy Belleme and is now anxious to help the king. He has sent messages to the other princes and the Welsh are quitting Staffordshire and moving into Shropshire as we speak. Your scouts will have already told you of the long column following us. Those are Gruffydd's men, already showing good faith to the bargain I made with him."
"And the siege?"
"Over the next few days", replied Raynar, "Belleme's garrison in Bridgnorth will watch the Welsh being allowed to cross the Severn with no hindrance, and will be told that they have changed sides. You must know by now that Henry has raised the fyrd. Those men will be arriving in these hills soon, and their numbers will grow every day. When the garrison sees their numbers, they will seek terms. Hopefully no one from either side need be butchered just to take those walls."
Robert Meulan sat down. He had heard many stories from Edith about this English peasant. That he was learned, and well traveled, and well connected was apparent. He held no lands in this kingdom, and lived simply, as if a monk, and yet the palace gossips said that he was no Christian, and that he had secret wealth beyond measure.
Barons had told him to be wary of him, for he was a deadly bowman, and was connected with the Brotherhood of the Arrow. Henry himself had told him that this man had killed at least one king in his lifetime. Here he stood before him speaking for Gruffydd, the next King of Wales, and promising that the men of the fyrd would finish this siege. He knew how English kings had used the fyrd, but that was decades ago.
"How many fyrdmen are you expecting, and when?" Meulan asked.
"First the Welsh," spoke Raynar. "Two of the men that rode in here with me are Gruffydd's men. May I sent them back to their prince with your promise of peace between your armies."
Meulan hesitated but a moment while he looked again at the letter from Henry. The words were clear. This man's words were to be assumed to come from Henry's mouth. He spun on his heal and began barking orders. Men started rushing to their horses to ride to all guard posts, scouts, and pickets with the message that the Welsh column coming down the highway were friends and were not to be stopped.
Raynar motioned to Gruffydd's men to come cl
oser. They came forward and saluted Meulan and Raynar. Meulan asked that they bring the prince to the headquarters as soon as he arrived. He then turned back to Raynar and said, "The fyrdmen. How many? When?"
"Perhaps more than a thousand," Raynar replied and waited for a shrugged response before he continued, "but I think less than two thousand a day, every day, until we send them home. There is no way of knowing how many will come in all. The men are not being raised by the landlords on behalf of an earl, but raised directly at the village level on behalf of the queen."
"The queen," Meulan stammered.
"As of today she may very well be the most powerful woman in Christendom. By next week she may very well be the most powerful woman in the world, and at a time when she is still nursing her first child."
"And where are these couriers from Arundel that Henry writes of?" asked Meulan.
"They are over there with my bowmen, where they will see little and hear less. They carry a request for permission to surrender Arundel, though it could well be that Arundel is already in Henry's hands and, if so, then his army will already be on the march to join you here."
"Well all I know of Arundel," said Meulan, "is that the siege was stalled and the king was deathly ill."
So that was this general's game, thought Raynar. Meulan was not pressing his siege while the king was infirmed in case he had to make amends with the other side. "The king has recovered from something akin to the water sickness. Now the sickness rages through the castle. Their wells are foul. They cannot hold long without water to drink and water to douse flames."
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It was decided by Meulan and Gruffydd that the Welsh would cross the bridge over the Severn today even though it was almost sunset already. Meulan did not trust the Welsh and wanted them well away from his siege engines. Gruffydd did not trust Meulan and wanted the easily defended bridge between his camp and Meulen's fort. Besides, the castle garrison still thought Gruffydd an ally and would not stop him from crossing today, but by tomorrow they would know differently.