Hoodsman: Revolt of the Earls

by Smith, Skye

  "Backtrack and then cross country over some hills. It will take them a while." replied the scout.

  "Change of plan," he pointed to two men. "Bring everyone here, quickly, now, even the men with the horses." It took precious minutes for the men to arrive.

  "They have scouts, so the ambush will not work. Instead, when the scouts arrive, I want you thirty to look like a hundred. Let them see you and your weapons and then crawl to another position and let them see you again. I want those scouts to see the felled trees and then run for their lives with tales of an ambush by a hundred bowmen."

  "Then what do we do?" asked his second.

  "Get to the horses and ride for Harley. Whether they try to storm the woods, or go around it, it serves our purpose. It will cost them hours. Our mission was to delay them, and so it will be done."

  The Norman scouts played their unknowing part perfectly. All was quiet until they spied the felled trees and then bowmen sprung up out of nowhere to threaten them. They knew it was a trap and turned and raced back the way they had come, with an occasional arrow whizzing past their ears. They were so busy trying to save their own lives, they could only guess at the number of bowmen, but there were a lot of them, spread throughout the forest.

  While the scouts rode hard to make their report to Arnulf’s column, the bowmen ran for their horses and rode away towards Harley and the carts.

  * * * * *

  The first of the cart horses had just started the pull up hill and into Huvel Hagen gorge when a scout raced his horse up to the rear guard. "There are riders coming from the south towards Harley. It looks like our wolfpack."

  The wolveshead of the rear guard yelled some orders and within minutes the horses were riderless and attached in lines to the final cart. Men were passing out the pikes and pole axes and two lines of infantry were forming. The pike men in front and the bowmen behind. They kept moving the lines backwards to keep up to the last cart.

  Raynar stayed mounted and rode over to the scouts who were now coming in from all directions. "I need scouts on the south side of the gorge, up on the edge. Your horses will be useless in the dark up there so tie them behind that last cart. Move east in line with the last cart and yell down any sightings."

  A rider came trotting along the line of carts from the lead passing along a message to each carter, "The scouts ahead say that the road is clear and in good condition, but stay on the road. The verge is rough with snags and dead branches from the clearing that was done when the army passed through. We will use the saddle horses to help your carthorse on the hills." Raynar heard the instructions the rider gave to the last carter, and told him to stay close for a while until there was a message to take back to the lead.

  The wolfpack from the ambush rode in on foaming horses and the wolveshead rode directly up to Raynar. "We've gained you an hour, perhaps more," he reported and then told the tale of making the Norman scouts think there were a hundred in the wood waiting for them.

  "Excellent," replied the wolveshead in charge of the rearguard. "An hour is all we need to get through the pass. Have your men tie their horses to the lines behind the carts, and join us in the rear guard." Raynar confirmed the plan with a nod. The messenger heard all and rode with the news to the front of the column.

  * * * * *

  An hour later they were through Huvel Hagen and the carts were directed by the scouts towards a brook with running water just to the south of the road. The wolveshead from the front of the column came riding down the line to confer with the rest of the leaders. "As soon as we entered the gorge, I sent two scouts ahead to Bridgnorth to ask for help. At speed they should be back in an hour, hopefully with half the fucking garrison."

  "Too late," Raynar told him. "The scouts on the ridge just yelled down that the Normans have entered the gorge at the other end."

  The pikemen and the rear guard were creating a formidable line blocking the road and the verges at the last corner in the gorge. Other bowmen were scrambling up the slope to find shooting perches.

  Osgar came half running, half sliding down the loose rocks. He had been with the scouts on the ridge. "What the fuck are you doing. Get those men out of the gorge. They are in the way," he yelled when he was within hearing. He sprinted along the road waving at the rearguard to withdraw.

  Raynar and the wolveshead rode to him, and he stopped running and he puffed out his message again. "Why are our men still in the gorge." He looked at the questioning looks, took a deep breath and began again. "The Normans are in the gorge. The wind has changed with nightfall. It is blowing through the gorge from the east." He looked at the blank look on Raynar's face. "Light the bush in the verges. It is as dry as tinder. The east wind will move the fire through the gorge. It will hold the Normans up for hours."

  Osgar was wrong. Yes the cut bush caught fire like tinder, but the wind did not move the fire through the gorge, it raced the fire through the gorge, raced it faster than a man could run. Osgar had expected a low brush fire creeping along the ground. Instead the flames shot twenty feet in the air and raced up either side of the gorge and the sparks from the dried bush carried the fire everywhere in the gorge at once. The light from the massive bush fire lit up the underside of the autumn clouds like a sunset.

  The horses had to be rushed away from the gorge, to stop them from panicking. The heat from the flames and from the heated air, hit their faces and their lungs like a desert wind from the Holy Land.

  "Holy saints alive," said Osgar in wonder of the inferno he had created. "If them Normans got caught in that gorge they will be burnt to a crisp in seconds."

  "I doubt they got caught by the fire, Osgar," replied Raynar, "They had scouts running ahead of them, and the wind would have covered them all in smoke well before the fires reached them."

  "Well, I can hope can't I," said Osgar. "One less worry for my folk if that small army comes to a bad end."

  Raynar reminded himself that Osgar's home was less than five miles south on the west side of the Edge. "Not to worry Osgar. The garrison from Bridgnorth will chase them back to Wales."

  Only half the horses were watered before they began again along the highway to Bridgnorth. It wasn't from a lack of water, but because the horses were so unnerved by the wall of flames behind them, that they did not want to drink. They just wanted to get away.

  The rear guard were now all mounted again. The valley was wider and they needed to be mounted so that they could not be outflanked. Raynar rode along the line of carts to talk to the lead and wait for the scouts returning from Bridgnorth. All faces in every cart, women’s faces, children’s faces, and carter faces, were staring back towards the strange orange and red glow from Huvel Hagen.

  When they were less than four miles from Bridgnorth, some of their scouts rode up escorted by about thirty guardsmen. They were the advance guard from the castle. They must have been the ones on watch when the alarm was sounded, and therefore ready to ride in minutes. The captain told them that he expected another hundred men to follow within the hour, and then a hundred more an hour after that.

  Raynar told the captain about what to expect in the gorge. "It was like the fires of your hell. It will take hours before it will be cool enough to travel through." He pointed to Osgar. "That man can take you over the Edge on the high bridle path. It means you could use this small patrol to hound their tracks until the main body catches up."

  The captain looked dubious. Ranging through the high country in the dark in order to get overly close to a stronger enemy did not appeal to him. Not at all. "We came to guard you, not to chase the enemy," he said, and once the words were out he liked the sound of them. It was the perfect justification for not taking the high path in the dark.

  The captain joined the lead of the column, while his men joined the rear guard. Within an hour a bigger troop of men arrived from the castle, and their commander set out immediately towards the gorge in pursuit. Finally Raynar could relax.

  * * * * *

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/>   The Hoodsman - Revolt of the Earls by Skye Smith

  Chapter 37 - The procession approaches Winchester in September 1102

  It was less than ten miles to Winchester now. They could see the low hills of the Yten forest to the south. The entire column of families and escorts were tired and wet and cold and dirty from a week of rain, but everyone was safe and healthy. Raynar had spent most of the week in the lead cart with Annette and Marique and the spy. Guarding the spy was his excuse for leaving the duties of leading the column to the other wolvesheads.

  Not only had he spent most of the journey in this cart, but he had spent most of it shielded from the worst of the rain by the cart's awning and it's flaps, and nestled in the relative comfort of the straw with his cloak pulled close around him. Occasionally, one or both of the women would join him under his cloak, just to remind him, and themselves, that they were desirable women, despite the deterrent of their dampish dishevelment.

  He was listening to a haunting Flemish folk song being sung by Marique when he heard the warning shout from the scouts ahead. To see what it was all about, he poked his head out of the closest flap, but could see nothing, so he reluctantly left Annette’s warm body. With a steady pull he coaxed his horse close enough to the cart to hop into the saddle. The carter's head was now fully out of the flaps and he was climbing into the seat so he looked like a professional carter and not some wanker hiding from the drizzle.

  "Riders approaching," called the wolveshead whose turn it was to lead. Raynar did not know which one because his hood was pulled forward to keep the drizzle off his head. He pulled his own hood forward and settled the horse into the plodding walk next to the lead. Another scout came to report. "They are Royal Archers from Winchester. They bring instructions for the families."

  The band of riders came towards them, and though they looked like friends, there was something strange about them. For one thing, most of them carried swords as well as their bows. The column's escort all strung their bows and nocked arrows. Raynar rode on ahead to talk to the approaching men. They too had their hoods forward on their heads and their bows were all strung, but they were not in hand.

  Raynar loosened his own hood so that his scarf of office would show. The lead of the band did the same and came forward to meet him. They both pulled their horses up when they were just out of sword reach. Raynar flipped his hood back and the man in front of him did likewise.

  "So Henry," Raynar grinned, "you must have enjoyed riding with our wolfpacks to create your own. Who wears your crown while you are worrying the local knights."

  "This is how I must go hunting now. Every day I am warned of new conspiracies on my life. Edith sends her love. She and sweet little Matilda are doing well. I think now that it was a good thing that our first child was a girl. My stewards tell me that Belleme would have had more help from my own barons if Edith had given me a son, however, with a daughter, under the Treaty of Alton, if I died today, my brother Robert would become king."

  "The same thing was told to me by the Princes of Wales," replied Raynar. "They are making wagers with each other on which of you will break that Treaty first."

  "Those that bet on Robert have won. Despite the treaty, he is welcoming the traitorous rebels such as Belleme to Normandy. Tomorrow I will declare to the church that Matilda is my rightful and legal heir, despite her sex, and despite the treaty. Tit for tat. If Robert can break it, then so can I."

  Raynar looked at the man in wonder at the news he had just been told. Henry rattled it off as if it were of no more importance than a market list, and yet such news would heave the Norman world into a full civil war. This was not the place to discuss it. "I would love to chat some more, but I have fifty cartloads of cold, wet, and therefore boundlessly bitchy women behind me. Do you want them in Winchester, or direct to Portsmouth?"

  "Direct to Portsmouth," said the king, "There is bad weather on the way, so I do not want to delay their departure."

  "Do you come with us?"

  "No, I have meetings tomorrow with my barons. You and your bowmen have displeased them greatly. Thank you."

  "So you are for Winchester, directly?"

  "I am," the King replied.

  "Then can I send a cart with two women and a spy with you. The women are Paris courtesans that Belleme had used to seduce men into changing their allegiance. They deserve better than to be sent to him. The spy is Belleme's as well, but lately he has been working for Arnulf of Belleme, the brother."

  "Shall I wait here for the cart?" asked Henry.

  "No, put your hood back up and come and watch the fun."

  They rode together to the front of the column and Henry shook the arm of each of the wolvesheads and seconds who were waiting patiently in the drizzle. Raynar spoke loudly so that those in the first few carts could hear. "We have been ordered directly to Portsmouth where ships await these folk. This man's wolfpack returns forthwith to Winchester, and I mean to send the courtesans and the spy with him."

  The cart behind the courtesans was the looter-woman's cart that kept getting stuck in the fords. The carters had moved it forward in line so that it could cross each ford before it was turned to a quagmire by other wheels. The courtesan's cart began to pull out of line, but then Osgar, who was now driving the problem cart, called out to the leaders.

  "If you are going to take one cart from us, take this bloody thing. The frame is too heavy for this work and it has given us endless problems." Osgar winked at Raynar, and gave a sly wave of recognition to Henry. Henry waved back and returned his smile.

  "Here," Osgar said, "I will pull this cart up beside the other and we can swap loads. It will take but a minute, and then we won't have to fight the roads with this overheavy cart anymore." The women sitting behind Osgar were in shock and spouting all sorts of nonsense for why they didn't want to swap carts.

  "I refuse to use a cart that has been used by those harlots." said the looting wife sitting behind Osgar. "It is not appropriate. It will not do. I refuse."

  "Then you can walk, dearie," said Osgar and he yelled at some bowmen to give a hand swapping loads. When this was done Osgar moved the heavy cart with its new and much prettier load, forward towards the king. "Oy, you," he savoured slinging orders at the king, "get a move on. I'm going to sleep in a real bed tonight. Warm and dry, you see if I don't."

  Henry laughed while he gave the two courtesans a keen look. He then turned his horse to allow the cart to pass. "Raynar, the queen demands your presence as soon as your deliver this lot to the ships. She has many questions as to how she is to reward the men who answered her levy, when it was almost every able Englishman across five shires."

  Raynar leaned over from his saddle to be close enough to Henry to speak softly. "Protect that cart well, Henry. Take it fully into the keep at Winchester. Before you dismiss your wolfpack, have them break open the false beams underneath it. The ones that make the cart so heavy."

  "Is this a riddle Raynar?"

  "No, Henry, it is all the gold from Belleme's treasury. The woman who made all the noise is Arnulf's mistress. It was their doing." He saw the question in Henry's look, and guessed at its' meaning. "My guess is a worth of about four thousand pounds."

  Henry laughed. "Excellent, that is more than I need to pay Robert his first tribute," he whispered, "but my glance was not to ask the amount, but to ask what you wish for the spy. It is usual for you to request a pardon."

  "Not for this one, Henry. His treachery would have led us all to assured slaughter. Question him and then hang him."

  * * * * *

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  The Hoodsman - Revolt of the Earls by Skye Smith

  Chapter 38 - To Winchester for Waltheof in June 1076

  Young Raynar stroked his hand gently through Judith's tumble of raven hair. The sun was long up, and the distant sounds of the busy Huntingdon docks were constant, but they were still lying naked against each other in her bed. The previous day he had returned from a road trip to Lincoln and the Humber wi
th Thorold and neither he nor her had been far from this bed since. His hand dropped lower and he caressed her breast.

  She moaned at being woken from her post-come dreaminess, "No more for now. I cannot spend the rest of the day in this bed. I have things to do." She pulled herself up the bed to half sitting and ignored his growing member. If she touched it they would be here in bed for another hour. "Tell me of Lincoln. Did the sheriff receive Thorold with grace?"

  "Yes, and he rode with us to the Humber and along it. The Danish fleet has not returned this year, and yet it is almost July. King Sweyn's death must have shaken the Jarls and they are all afraid to be too far from their homes. Trade ships from Flanders are on the Humber again. The ferries connecting the banks are busy again. Last year the whole of Lincolnshire did well. The year of '75 will perhaps be remembered as the year that life was almost back to normal. Even December's deep freeze did not cause much hardship, for all the villages had enough food to carry them through it."

  He thought for a while and then added, "The only men who aren't thriving are the Frisian horse traders. They are breeding their finest horses again, but though everyone in the north wants horses, they want plough and cart horses, not those Frisian beauties. They sold fewer than half of the horses they took with us, and those for less than they were worth."

  He was about to tell her more of the news from Lincoln but there was a thump of a hip at the door. Judith's maid, on hearing their voices, had come with hot drinks and honey cakes, and would leave with the slop bucket. The maid was a Frisian teen, but without the striking beauty usual in her breed. A fall from a horse as a child had twisted her nose and lip.

  They did not hide their nudity. Frisian women were not embarrassed by nudity. Judith shoved the collection of Raynar's weapons off the small table beside the bed to make room for the tray. She hated that he always kept weapons close by even when they were pleasuring each other. There was a small scroll pipe on the tray and she grabbed at it because she thought Raynar was grabbing for it, but his aim was for a cake.