by Smith, Skye
Once most of the Welsh column was across the bridge and out of range of both the siege fort and the castle, the prince approached the castle gate, identified himself, and spoke to the gate keepers.
"Is Earl Robert at the castle," Gruffydd asked, "I have a gift for him." He meant the two couriers from Arundel.
"No," replied one gatekeeper, "as far as we know he is now in Shrewsbury, although he could still be on his way back from Hereford.
"Is William Pantulf still the castellan here?" asked Gruffydd.
"He has left the castle. He has had a holy row with Earl Robert and has been told to stay away. Now we take orders from Roger FitzCorbet, Robert of Neuville, and Ulger the huntsman, depending on the day of the week and the amount of wine they consumed the night before. Are Prince Cadwgan and Lorwerth with you?"
"Not yet, but they should be here within a day," replied Gruffydd. The prince was now bluntly honest with the castle men. An English army of countless men was gathering in Staffordshire, and so the Welsh were moving their camp to the other side of the River Severn. When asked why Meulan had let them cross, he shrugged and simply said that he was now the king's man, and advised them to make the same decision for themselves, and quickly.
In truth, Gruffydd did not know where either of the other princes was at that moment, and he was worried that their raiding had taken them too deeply into England and they had come to harm. He said a quick prayer to the fates that his messengers would reach them before the English bowmen did. He turned to Raynar and said, "I cannot allow you to release Arundel couriers yet, not until the other princes are safely passed this castle and into Shropshire."
"What if I continue on with the messengers and release them just shy of Shrewsbury?" asked Raynar.
"That could work," replied the prince, "assume it so, but give me until the morning to discuss it with my chiefs."
* * * * *
Perhaps it was because Raynar and each of his bowmen spoke Welsh, that they enjoyed camping with the prince's army that night. Spirits were high because the raiders were now closer to home than they were the night before, and the taking of the horses and sheep and dairy cattle of Staffordshire had cost them little in effort or injury. There were women with the army, but they were all Welsh lasses. There were no prisoners and therefore no slaves. That was not the Welsh way. Welsh raiders tended to be thieves of opportunity, not murderers and slave traders. They were happy when the peasants ran from them, and happier still when armoured men ran from them. It saved everyone a lot of bloodshed.
Once again Raynar marveled at how similar the Welsh were to the Frisians of the Fen lands on the other side of England. Not in appearance. In appearance they could not be more different. The Frisians were tall and many of their women were taller than a normal Welsh man. The Frisians were fair haired and light eyed but with skin that turned amber in the sun, whereas the Welsh were mostly dark haired and dark eyed but with white skin that turned pink or freckled in the sun. The Welsh nobility had intermarried with Knut's Danish nobles so they often looked quite different from their own folk, often with light eyes and reddish hair.
The cultures of the two peoples, however were in parallel. They were tribal, where tribes were often large extended families. They lived communally with land in common, buildings in common, herds in common, and even tools such as carts and ploughs in common. The word bastard had little meaning in either culture, and did not exclude folk from inheritance. Festivals were held at the same times of year, though the gods were different. The Welsh had many gods who were spirits of the earth, whereas the Frisians gods were of the heavens.
Raynar was comfortable in either culture, and had lived comfortably with both. With the Danes or the Saxons, he never quite fit in, despite being of Saxon blood. As for the Normans and the Franks, he was sickened by the 'better than thou' culture. The Frisians and the Welsh both held dear what the Welsh called cymyr or 'fellow countrymen'. To both cultures their language was a thing of fellowship, what the Welsh called cymraeg.
He spoke Saxon and Danish and Frisian and Welsh. To his ear, English was the Frisian trading language of the North Sea, with some Saxon words and some simple Danish grammar. Knut pushed the merger of the tongues, as he pushed all things that the folk of his North Sea empire had 'in common' such as their laws. The Welsh tongue had resisted the Danish simplification, whereas Frisian had been simplified by including Danish grammar well before Knut's time.
Raynar had always had some trouble translating Welsh to English because English had less flourish. English explained more with fewer words. Welsh and Frisian kept the flourish now almost lost from English. Moreover they were melodious. Welsh is sing song, while Frisian is chanted like poetry. This seemed logical to him because both peoples passed on their culture by word of mouth and not by written works. Rhyming and rhythm made the phrases, and therefore the knowledge, easier to remember.
The Welsh and Frisians were different from the Saxons in other ways too. They were proud of being freemen which was why they still fought the Normans, years after the Saxons had given up. The Normans were now ruling the Saxons as serfs, whereas they were still slaughtering the Welsh, the Danes, and the Frisians because there was something in those cultures that made men stubbornly fight to keep their own freedom.
He was drifting in and out of sleep and his mind was drifting between visions of the women in his life. The Welsh women were nothing like the Saxon women. They were more like the women of the Fens despite the extreme difference in their physique and looks. Each had an awareness of self, a pride in being a woman, a chastity of spirit. In Norman culture chastity is enforced by rules, whereas in Wales it is by the personal choice of the woman. The women of Wales and the Fens are very sexual and sensual. To them sex is a joyous gift, not something lurid and unclean and forced, as it is with Norman women.
Most telling of all must be the different attitude towards extravagance. The Welsh and Frisian cultures are based on sharing and the common good, so extravagance is rarely seen. In Norman culture extravagance is used to prove your worth above others. To gain acceptance from the Welsh or the Frisians needs only a song, or a smile, or a gentle touch. A Norman needs the biggest house, or the most expensive cloth, or the best horse . All these peoples are horse lovers, but while the Welsh love horses for their company and utility, the Normans love costly horses the best because others will covet them.
He must have been speaking his thoughts aloud because Brunt asked him, "So when you finally quit the company of the Normans you despise so much, whose company will you seek out, the Welsh or the Frisians?"
The answer slipped out without thinking. "The Frisians, for I love ships and the sea and the coast. Besides, my happiest partnerships have all been with Frisian women, and I so desire more of that joyousness before my days on this earth are finished."
"Over here," yelled one of the other bowmen as he motioned them to leave the fire circle and join him where he had a clear view of the highway to the castle and the bridge. "These others," he swept his hand around the Welsh all busy around the fire making stick bread and heating water to cook oats, "are all from Anglesey. They remember you from some battle there. They say they will help us to guard the couriers while we are camped with them."
The night was clear and filled with stars and the sounds of happy men. Even the couriers got no sleep that night. Spirits were high, and the Welsh were celebrating the new safety they felt on this side of the Severn. The castle and the bridge were lit with torches and the reflection of the torch flames sometimes made it seem like the castle must be on fire. It was a magic night, a night that promised eventual peace.
* * * * *
* * * * *
The Hoodsman - Revolt of the Earls by Skye Smith
Chapter 16 - Escorting couriers to Shrewsbury in August 1102
In the morning the couriers from Arundel Castle and their escort were fed by some camp cooks at the first sitting with the men just coming off night watch. They left for Shrewsbury as
soon as they had eaten. Raynar had already said his fair wells to Prince Gruffydd, while he was borrowing some Welsh clothing to use as disguises. He did not bother re-crossing the bridge to extend the same courtesy to Meulan.
After some discussion with Gruffydd's scouts they decided not to use the main highway through the gorge to the north west of Bridgnorth, because the scouts told them that there were wild men ranging there. Instead he led the couriers straight west away from the main highway and used a bridle path to gain the top of a ridge that ran roughly towards Shrewsbury.
They took a rest when the ridge finally ended and they were forced down to the valley land. Now that they were in Shropshire, the couriers wanted to be set loose and were constantly making that case to Raynar. They knew the way to Shrewsbury from here, and they would be in little danger.
"The message you carry is too important for us not to continue together," replied Raynar. "These are wild times, and there is no knowing what is waiting in the next valley."
"We could leave them in Bestune," suggested Brunt who knew the area around Shrewsbury better than any of them. "It is on a limestone hill just south of Shrewsbury. It is barely three miles from there to Shrewsbury along a well traveled highway. I doubt that we, ourselves, would be welcomed by the Earl, and I fear his habit of impaling uppity peasants."
It was so agreed by everyone. It was not until they saw the quarry near Bestune, and heard Brunt warn them to nock arrows that Raynar became suspicious of his true intentions.
The quarry was guarded, and a knight and five men-at-arms rode towards them as soon as they were seen. Raynar rode ahead and purposely spoke bad French with a Welsh accent to the knight, telling him that they were escorting couriers with a critical message for the earl. "If you please, Sire," he said, "could you be the one to escort these couriers to the earl so that we can return to Bridgnorth."
The knight was nodding in agreement and savouring a chance to earn the praise of the Earl, when there was a yell and the two couriers broke away from the bowmen. The bowmen did not raise their bows. They had been told repeatedly that these men must reach the Earl. As the couriers rode towards the knight they were yelling that he should capture the Englishman. The knight was confused. What Englishman? Where?
Raynar was very much not confused, and he turned his horse quickly and kicked it to a run to put some distance between him and the knight and his men at arms. The knight soon enough understood the words of the couriers and gave chase. Meanwhile the unarmed couriers tried to cut Raynar off. Without slowing, Raynar was checking the fields to the left and right to see which would provide the best escape from this trap. When less than five paces from the couriers he swung his horse a bit to the right, and once the two couriers had committed their horses to blocking him, he turned his horse sharply left. Luckily neither was armed else he would have been sliced. As it was they passed so close to him that they reached out to grab him.
Once he was passed the couriers, there was open road between he and his bowmen, however the zig zag had slowed him and now the knight and his men were close behind with swords in hands. Moreover they were on fresher horses and were better and younger riders than Raynar. He heard the swish of arrows flying passed him and was relieved to see that his own bowmen were loosing them. Two bowmen were shooting from the saddle and two from the ground. He did not slow nor turn around until he was beyond his men, then he pulled the horse up hard and turned to look.
The knight was on the ground, and his horse was lying on its side kicking out with its legs and gnashing the air with its teeth and screaming in pain. The five men-at-arms who had been riding behind the knight were now learning first hand of the violence that can be done to horses by heavy arrows. The bowmen kept the arrows flying until all of the Normans were on the ground either writhing or lying still, then they drew their swords and walked between the downed horses and men.
"Disarm them, don't kill them," yelled Brunt to the bowmen, "but finish their horses." The couriers had turned away and were now hurrying their horses towards Shrewsbury. "Ungrateful bastards, a pox on you." Brunt yelled after them. He had reached the knight, who was lying in the strangely bent way of a man with broken bones, and he seemed to be looking around for something. The knight looked up at Brunt and gritted his teeth in pain as he reached for his sword, which was lying about a foot from his hand. Brunt put his heel on the knight's hand and ground it into the roadbed.
The knight tried to reach over with his other hand to grab Brunt's ankle, and perhaps trip him, but Brunt saw the move and kicked the knight in the shoulder. The knight rolled away onto his back and groaned in agony and lay still.
"So you remember me then," said Brunt in bad French, "that is good, it will save much talk." He kicked at the knight again. "Where is she, my sister, where is she?"
"She is dead," the knight replied, "the winter killed her." Brunt took a deep breath and felt like puking.
Raynar walked over and stood beside Brunt. "I should have known what you were up to when I saw the quarry. You did say that your father was a mason." He looked down at the knight. He could make a good guess at the damage done to the man by his fall from his mount. A broken collar bone and a dislocated knee. "Brunt," he said in French "this man is lying to you. Come, let's ask one of his men." He gave Brunt a wink and a nod, and then kicked the knights sword away and walked to the next closest Norman. Another broken body, but this one did not move. He guessed at a broken neck.
"You, pay attention," he said loudly in French at the body. He gave Brunt another wink. "Look at this man. You know him, yes. His sister was raped by your knight, and his father was impaled because of it. Ahh, so you do remember."
Another of the bowman gave him a strange look, but then went back to finishing off the horse that was making the most noise. "Where is she? Tell us and you will live." Raynar made some side noises on behalf of the body, then he yelled "Liar, tell the truth". He waited a little while longer and then he slashed his sword down across the bodies neck. He kicked the head away from the body, then turned and walked back to the knight.
"Are you ready to tell us the truth?" asked Raynar. "Tell us the truth and you will live. The woman is more important to Brunt than his vengeance on you. Speak: where is his sister?"
The knight stared at the head that had rolled to the edge of the cartway and quickly said, "She lives. She is at my manor. She is my serf."
Raynar did not move quickly enough to block Brunt's sword from hacking at the knights crotch. The knight looked down at his legs and saw the blood oozing through his breeches and whimpered and cried out in pain, then lost consciousness. "He will bleed to death within the hour," said Brunt. "It is a faster death than he deserves, but we can't leave any of these men alive. They will start a hue and cry against us with the next Norman who uses this road."
"Bullshit," replied Raynar. "The couriers will do that whether these men are alive or not."
"Then I will cripple the rest," said Brunt.
"No," replied Raynar, "you won't. You are a skirmisher. You have killed the leader, as you have been trained to do, and others besides. That is enough."
"These men are rapists," argued Brunt, "They have probably all had my sister."
"You do not know that for sure. Until you do, you leave them be." Raynar thought for a moment that Brunt would disobey, but then Brunt's body relaxed and he turned away and began collecting spent arrows and any weapons. Raynar and the rest helped him with the collection. Another of the Normans groaned and died while they were busy. The last three were told to care for their knight, who was bleeding badly and in much pain.
Once they gathered their own horses, they shared out the shafts and bundled the weapons behind their saddles. Brunt mounted his horse and said "His manor is on the other side of this quarry, a half mile no more. I am going there to find my sister. I could use some help." The men all nodded and mounted up to follow him.
* * * * *
* * * * *
The Hoodsman - Revolt of
the Earls by Skye Smith
Chapter 17 - Rescuing women in Bestune, Shropshire in August 1102
The manor at Bestune was typical of Shropshire. A longhouse with a thatch roof and outbuildings, all surrounded by a pale wall which was surrounded by a shallow ditch. The gate was open, though some farm hands tried to close it quickly when they saw Welsh riders approaching. Brunt sped ahead and charged the men with his horse so that they did not have time enough to close and bar it. Once inside they ordered the same farm hands to close and bar the gate behind them.
There were no armoured men about but some of the stable hands came forward wielding pitch forks. "Put them down," Brunt told them pointing an arrow in their direction. "We mean you no harm. I come looking for my sister. She is fair and named Gysel and your knight told me she was here." A boy barely in his teens volunteered to fetch her from the house.
Raynar moved his horse closer to the farm hands and pointed to the youngest. "You, go and saddle a good horse for Gysel to ride." The lad looked at an older man, who nodded so he left to fetch a horse.
The boy returned pulling on the hand of a peasant girl dressed in homespun. She walked with a clumsy gait as if she was in pain. "Brunt," she gasped and then ran clumsily towards her brother and hugged him and began to cry.
Some other women had come out from the house and Raynar rode towards them and told them to wrap some food for traveling and to stay out of the way. He dismounted and followed them into the house. It took him a long while to get his eyes accustomed to the deep shade of the house, but once he could see he made his way to the lords chamber and tried to open the door.
The door was locked so he kicked at it a few times until the bar broke, and then he entered the chamber. From the corner of his eye he thought he saw something move in the shadows formed by a stack of chests. He pointed his sword towards the movement, and heard a whimper, like the whimper of a child.