by Smith, Skye
The medicine basket arrived, and Raynar went to help the healer with those from the dungeon. Gysel had men hang draperies to create some privacy, and had her kitchen staff bring many cauldrons of hot water. With the help of some of the larger bowmen, one by one they stripped and bathed the prisoners, inspected their wounds, tended the wounds as best they could, and then dressed them in clean clothes. The tattered and infested rags they had been wearing were all burned.
Of interest was that all of the prisoners were from good families. Belleme had chosen not to ransom them, as it pleased him better to have them starve. When Raynar asked if there were any peasants in the dungeon, the prisoners laughed back at him in scorn. Belleme did not waste his dungeon on livestock. Peasants were quickly executed. Or rather, quickly sent for execution, as the executions themselves were never quick.
Just after dark, the watch coming off duty arrived in the great hall to eat, and reported the same as the other watch. All was quiet. The ealders inquiry was finished for the day, and they had been escorted to their homes by the watch going on duty.
Brunt told him to go to bed, and that he would do the rounds of the walls. Raynar relented and dragged his old and tired legs up the stairs to the lords chambers. All was quiet in the main chamber. The courtesans had re-taken possession of the side room. There were sounds of snoring from the treasury room. Gysel and Jeanne were in the bed that the courtesans had been sharing. Raynar stripped himself of all clothes and weapons and washed, and then crawled between the linen of the lords canopied bed. The linen was not actually linen, but silk. It felt glorious and cool on his skin.
He stirred when Gysel's skin touched his. "Shh," she whispered. "Go back to sleep. Brunt is sharing Jeanne's bed so I will sleep beside you." His arms pulled her towards him, but she pushed him away. "No, I am not here for you."
When he woke in the morning, both Brunt and Gysel were already gone from the room. Jeanne sat on the edge of his bed and said "He is making the rounds of the walls. She is rousting the kitchen." She gave him a small smile. "I have the morning sickness, so I am with child," she told him. "It may be yours, or Brunt's, or my husband's, but all of us must agree that it is from my dead husband."
"It is your husband's child." Raynar said truthfully.
"Exactly," she replied, "keep saying that, and Brunt has agreed to say it too. My claim to my two manors may depend on it."
"I will swear to it if need be," he said quietly and stroked her hair. She kissed his stroking hand.
"Can you arrange for Brunt to stay in Shrewsbury. He doesn't know it yet, but I am thinking of marrying him." She gave him a calculating grin. "If I am married then no other lords will be sniffing around me. It's as good a reason as any to marry."
"My advice to the king will be for all of his Shropshire bowmen to stay with this garrison," he replied. "So Gysel will stay on with you?"
"Of course. She is formidable and trustworthy. Once she is well I will find her a local husband so as to keep her nearby."
"If she is willing," he said softly, "for she has suffered much at the hands of men. I have seen the man hating sickness grow in the minds of other women who have been so abused."
"Oh she is willing," she said. "She is hungry for men, but I sometimes fear that the hunger may also be a sickness of her mind. First though, she must heal inside. You must have noticed her smell, the whore smell, the smell of fish. The healer is taking special care of her, flushing her of poisons and fungus." She put her hand to her mouth as if to smoother the words she had just been bold enough to say to this man. She blushed and pushed away from him and hurriedly found her shawl and left the room.
Raynar stood and walked to the treasury door and knocked hard. There was a question from the guards within and he gave the password. The bar was thrown and the door opened a crack. "You two go and relieve yourselves and get something to eat. I will guard the room," he offered, "oh, and bring back a carpenter with you so we can fix this lock."
The two guards hurried down the stairs and Raynar left the door of the treasury open to allow fresh air to flush out their funk. He sat at the small table and gathered writing materials to make himself a list of things he must do. He had written no more than 'fix lock' and 'list treasure' when the other door in the room opened and the two courtesans glided into the main chamber.
The French courtesan, Annette, swirled around and saw the room was empty but that the treasury door was open and she hastened towards it. She froze in the doorway when she saw him. "Your pardon, I came only to close the door, for security you know."
"Are any of these chests yours?" he asked.
"No," she said, but the other, Marique, the Flemish one, yelled "Yes." They looked at each other, and looked at him, and one said "Belleme kept our jewels locked in here, but I do not know in which chest."
"Then you must wait until the chests and their contents have been listed. I will have monks here today doing just that. Once they are finished you will need to describe your jewels to me."
She nodded and then realized that this was a keen reason to keep charming this rude man, so she curtseyed while bowing forwards so that he could see glimpses of breasts down the neckline of her shift.
He was always appreciative of the charms of women and paid her the complement of staring and smiling. When the performance was finished, he said quietly and sweetly. "We are still in the process of organizing the castle services, so it would be helpful if you tidied these rooms and made the beds."
Her courtesan smile turned icy and then into a bitchy frown, but she caught back the words that matched her thoughts and instead said, "We would be pleased to help in any way we can, of course. First however, we go to eat."
They walked towards their room and the movements of their hips could have seduced an abbot. He felt his own heart pumping extra blood. "No," he thought to himself, "these two must never be presented at Edith's court, and must never, ever be introduced to Henry."
* * * * *
* * * * *
The Hoodsman - Revolt of the Earls by Skye Smith
Chapter 32 - With treasure and courtesans in Shrewsbury in August 1102
It was another long day filled with questions and decisions for Raynar. The lock on the treasury door had been exchanged with one that he had a key for. The monk clerks had worked diligently with the two guards to safely open each chest and take inventory of the contents. The one unlocked chest had been left unopened at Raynar’s request.
The ealders had returned to the great hall to continue their inquiry and sorting of the people under guard there. Meanwhile, criers had been sent through the burgh yelling messages such as:
All women who wish to travel to Normandy to join their husbands must present themselves at the great hall.
All servants who had worked at the castle should present themselves at the castle's kitchen shed.
All folk who wish to return to their villages and farms and want escorts home, and should present themselves to the guardhouse.
All homes within the burgh wall must make room for soldiers to billet.
The market is to open for business.
All looters and rapists will be shot.
Understandably, before midmorning the great hall was riotous with folk of all walks and types. Every monk who could write was seconded from the monastery to record identities and the decisions made about them.
At one point Jeanne dragged Raynar away from the ealders to have him answer questions from the wives of Belleme's nobles. He had to slam a tankard down hard on a table to quiet them, and then he listened to the first five questions without answering any. It was enough to give him a semblance of their worries. He stopped the questions and thought carefully about his answers before he spoke.
"Under King Henry's charter," he began, "no woman can be forced into a marriage against her will. You may stay in this kingdom if you sign an oath that you were married against your will. If you have no sons by your husband and if land came to him through your wedding, t
hen by refuting the wedding you will be able to petition the court to take back that land.
If you have sons by your husband then they are subject to your husbands attainder. They must leave for Normandy and I strongly suggest that you go with them. The honors and lands of your husband and sons have reverted to the crown.
Your procession to Winchester and then Portsmouth will begin in five days, so you have time to think about what to do. There is ample time for you to seek counsel. I must warn you that if you choose to stay you may face a long battle against poverty, so the key is whether you have family in this kingdom who are willing to support you."
These words cleared most questions from the women's lips, but Jeanne had gone suddenly pale. Raynar ignored two other women and pointed to Jeanne, "you have a question."
"I am a widow. My husband died before the surrender. I carry his child but whether a son or not is for God to decide. Each of us brought a manor our the wedding. What should I do?" Other women yelled that they were also widows, and some of them had sons.
"Since you are widows you will not be forced to join the procession to Normandy. You will continue to live in the manor for which you have the strongest claim, and petition the court for whatever more you wish for you and your sons. If you have strong family ties to Normandy, I suggest you join the procession. If not you must petition the courts for the return of any land to you, but as the right of a widow only, for your sons cannot claim the honors of their fathers."
Jeanne smiled at him, and he felt the warmth of it. He motioned to a monk to write down what he had just proclaimed for future use by the courts and then he would sign it. Many of the women began to drift away to think, or to be curious about the other decisions being made in the hall. Raynar was left with a small ring of women about him who seemed to be of two types: old and bitter, and young and bitter. There was nothing he could say to any, but that if they thought they had a strong case then they should petition the courts.
Gysel rescued him from the bitterness of wronged women, by dragging him towards another noisy group of mixed men and women. He listened to a jumble of questions, and then held his arm up for silence. The hush was so sudden that other groups in the hall also quieted. Then the din grew again.
"I will allow no male servants in the castle for now," announced Raynar, "only women. If men have business or tasks that need doing in the castle they are to ask for an escort from the guard house who will stay with them until the task is complete. Even then, they must leave the castle before dark."
At this he took the large ring of keys from his belt, took the key to the treasury from it, and then handed the rest to Gysel. "Gysel here is now the chamberlain and all matters of the household are to be asked of her first. You men be warned. I once saw her use sheep’s shears to geld a man who displeased her, so treat her with the greatest of respect."
Gysel spoke out immediately, and as she did so she was working a smaller key ring from the mass of keys. "All kitchen and food questions should be taken to the cook first." She handed the smaller set of keys to the cook who was standing beside her.
He was walking away relieved to be free of the endless details of running a great house, when a crone in a nun's habit stood in his path and would not let him pass. "I am in charge of the women in the brothel," she said, "and there is a witch come to the place to visit with the women. When we tried to hold her, she pulled a knife and now has barred herself in one of the rooms. I need guards to take her away."
He sighed knowing what to expect. "Describe this witch," he asked, and the description fit the older of the Welsh healing women. "Sister, that woman was personal physician to the last Earl. She means to cure the whores of ill health before they are sent home. If her appearance dismays you then provide her with a habit and let her be seen as one of your nuns." The look of stubbornness on the sister's face forced him to continue. "If you do not, then I will take your habit from you here and now and take it to her myself. I hope you have a shift on underneath, else these men about us will see all of you."
The look of stubbornness turned to fear, and then as he pulled at her habit, turned to horror. She tried to run, but he held her habit tightly. "Swear that you will help the healer, and with good faith, or by God you will be naked in a moment." The nun gave up and was still and swore it.
"Instead of fearing and fighting the healer," he said gently, "have some of your wiser nuns help her, and watch her, and learn from her. Then next time you will not need her help." He released her habit and she turned to go. "Be sure to give her my thanks for attending those poor women, sister, sister." There was no acknowledgement other than a speeding of her pace.
Raynar sighed as yet another woman’s hand grabbed at him. It was Marique. "The monks have ejected us from your chamber."
"They are there to take inventory of the treasure," he explained, "They will be gone before dark. I can understand that they would not want such a tempting distraction worrying their work."
"But where are we to go?" she asked, looking around in fear. "These women all hate us. The men have lust in their eyes, and there is no Earl to keep them respectful of us."
"Madam, have you not heard the criers. All looters and rapists will be shot." As he said this, two good wives walked by and each spat at Marique. He sighed again and took Marique by the arm and escorted her back to his chambers. It was time he inspected the monks work in the treasury in any case. Annette was waiting on the stairs. He took each by the arm and led them through the door of his chambers.
There was a clucking noise and hisses from the monks who were sliding a tabletop of piled silver coins back into a large chest. Raynar did not stop walking until he reached the women’s side room and pushed them inside and closed the door. Then he walked to the hissers and snatched up the list they were working on.
"Once you have finished with a chest," he told them, "I want you to seal it with wax and put a number on it that is also to be written on this list." They looked at him like he was an urchin, and pointed to the chests that had already been done. They were sealed and numbered.
Chastened by the clerics, he retreated to the women's room and closed the door behind him. There was one comfortable looking chair inside that had enough guilt on it to be a throne. He sat down on it.
"That was the Earl's chair for when he held court," said Marique sweetly. They were again dressed in silk shifts that left little to his imagination as to how well they were shaped. He felt his blood rushing and knew that he was staring and blushing.
"Relax, Raynar," said Marique, "Let the little decisions be made by the little people. Save yourself for the important ones." She caressed his temples and he closed his eyes and began to relax under her talented fingers. She had spent all of her life seducing men and then controlling them. There was now the need to control this one. She had watched him patiently work through the problems in the great hall. Despite his clothing which marked him as a tax collector, there was more to him than just that.
While she was down in the hall, she had watched as a man had lost his temper with this taxman, and had moved threateningly towards him. The bowman she had been standing beside at the time pushed her away from him and in less time than it took her to regain her balance, he had an arrow nocked and aimed at the threatening man. When she looked about the hall, she saw a dozen other bows also so aimed. No, this man was not just a tax collector, or a treasury clerk. There was more to him than that, something much more.
With a practiced shrug of her shoulders, her silk shift slid down and exposed her breasts. Pushing her breasts gently towards his closed eyes made them a part of the caress of his temples. His eyelashes tickled as they flickered against the softest of her skin and he moaned in delight. Despite all of her experience and techniques, there was nothing more effective than simply brushing a breast against a man's eyes to get him aroused, and therefore, controllable.
Raynar was feeling absolutely delicious. One woman was ever so softly brushing her breasts across his f
ace while the other was gently caressing other, more private parts. Her breasts were like those of a very young woman, a woman who had never suckled a child, and yet this woman was at least twenty five. Even a mistress would have had at least two children by now.
He knew that these women were corrupting him for their own gain, but he felt all the stress and strain from the past weeks flee from his body and he could not bring himself to order them to stop. Eventually, when his moans were becoming too loud and his breathing too fast they did stop.
He did not move until the waves of sensuous feelings slowly drifted away. By the time he opened his eyes, he knew that he was grinning from ear to ear like a fool, but he did not care. They were both sitting on one of the beds and looking quite innocent. They smiled at him and he felt a rush of joy.
"We have said many times that we are not whores," said Marique. "Our purpose is to inflame men's passions, not to douse them. If you need to do something with that rod of yours, then you must find a whore, or a widow."
"It is the women and the monks that call you whores, not I," he replied between sighs. "I have known courtesans before, intimately. You have my respect, not my scorn."
"Then you know that if you are kind to us," replied Marique, "that we will return your kindness. Did you notice that we tidied the rooms."
"I did notice," he said, "and I imagine it was the gracefulness of your bending and stooping that caused the monks in the next room to complain." The two women giggled and smirked. "I suggest that you be more modest around the monks and wives that currently fill this castle. They seem to harbour ill will towards you, and I can understand why." He stood and stretched. "Thank you for a most pleasant respite, but now I must beg your leave."