by Smith, Skye
Earl Morcar, Prince Edgar, Bishop Aethelwine of Dun Holm, and Cospatrick, the latest Earl of Northumbria were watching young Raynar from the other end of the meal table in the great hall of Morcar's town house in York.
"As I said when I first came," Raynar told Morcar, "I have no message from Edwin. I came only to tell you that he is traveling with William's army but with no men of his own as a guard. You can presume what you will, but I think that William keeps Edwin with him so that the men of Mercia will not answer anyone else’s call for the fyrd. Do not count on any of the shieldmen of Mercia to help you here in York."
Morcar turned to the huscarl on his left. "You say you need more shieldmen. How can we get word to the Mercians?"
"You still do not understand!" Raynar half shouted in exasperation. It was like talking to a post. A lot of the Mercian shieldmen had lost their armour in Warwick. "You must leave! You cannot stop William's army! He will slaughter your shieldmen, and if you fight him, he will slaughter the folk of York."
"Calm yourself," said Edgar, laying a hand on Raynar's arm.
"This is not the time to be calm, Edgar," replied Raynar without lowering his voice. "He will lock you up, and he will give your sisters to some bestial Norman lords who already have first wives in Normandy!” Raynar rarely raised his voice to Edgar, but had been frustrated by how everyone was listening to the words of Cospatrick, who had never been in battle with the Normans.
Princess Margaret, who was sitting beside him, also put her hand on his arm to calm him. It was a touch that he could not ignore. He wanted her so badly, and because he could not have her, any touch was welcome. It had the effect she was hoping for because he took a deep breath and looked into her eyes hoping, hoping ever so much, for a smile from her. It was there. She was so comely when she smiled, this English princess.
Princess Agatha, her battleaxe of a Hungarian mother, cleared her throat very loudly, and Margaret's smile disappeared. He looked over at the frown on her mother's face. He knew it was not for him so much as for Margaret. The mother welcomed his company and welcomed his influence on her son Edgar, but she had often told him to keep his distance from her two daughters. He was, after all, just a peasant.
He looked beyond the mother's frown and saw a smirk on sister Cristina's lips. She saw him watching her and she licked her lips and put her eyes up to look at the ceiling. Like Margaret, Cristina had spent most of her life in a convent being endlessly educated in preparation for a marriage that had yet to be arranged. Cristina also sought his company, but only because doing so irked her sister.
The mother stood and excused the women from the tables. Neither sister stood, although all other women did so immediately. After a moment of rebellion, they relented and left the hall with the other women. Margaret stroked Raynar's cheek as she pushed by him. He felt the brush of her breast against his shoulder.
When the women were out of earshot, Edgar poked Raynar gently with a finger. "Why do you allow her to tease you and moan over you like a love-sick girl."
"If you think that I can curb your sisters' willfulness," replied Raynar, "then you do not know your sisters as well as you should. They are both older and smarter than either of us. Besides, I am just a know-nothing peasant, to be ordered about."
Cospatrick broke in, "Now that the women have left, perhaps we can discuss Raynar’s news more fully." The other men at the table agreed. He looked at Raynar. "You are the only one amongst us that does not command men, and you are the only one who thinks it folly to keep William out of York."
"I don't think it folly to keep William out of York. That is a worthy goal. The trouble is that what you are planning will not do that. If this plan is all you have, then leave. Send your men home and don't anger William."
"Sire," said the captain of Morcar's huscarls, "I also think that we are too weak to stand in front of William. We need double the number of shieldmen."
Raynar's anger returned immediately and he slammed the table with his hand, and the noise and rattle made him realize he was still too frustrated to talk. He took some deep breaths while all those at the table looked at him. He forced his voice to be softer. "You already have too many shieldmen. You have too few poleaxe men, and fewer bowmen and no cavalry."
"We have archers enough," said the huscarl.
"You have archers but few bowmen. When I say bowman I mean someone with a bow so powerful that he can punch holes in a Norman knight at a hundred paces. Your pikemen are trained to guard gates, but they are not trained to pull knights from their horses. Your shieldmen are skilled at fighting other shieldmen such as raiders from Scotland or Norway, but they know nothing about fighting the heavy cavalry of Normandy."
"Edgar has told us that Harold was beating William at Hastings Road until the pikemen broke ranks and left their wing open to the cavalry."
"He speaks true, but you have not taken that thought any further," Raynar replied. He closed he eyes. "Spare me a moment while I bring my recollections of that battle to mind."
"You were at Hastings?" asked the huscarl.
"I survived by hiding," replied Raynar. "The day was lost because Harold had no archers to force William's archers to keep their distance." He reached across the table and grabbed a loaf of bread and began breaking it into pieces to use as markers.
"When William's left wing started to fall back, it should have been the start of a rout, but only the pikemen were fleet enough to take the battle to the fleeing Normans. The shieldmen were too heavy to catch up to the fleeing Normans, so they returned to their defensive position behind the row of sharpened stakes. This left the pikemen in open ground with no protection. They became lance bait for the cavalry reinforcements."
Raynar had been using the bread to make a model the shieldwall while he was explaining it. "Without the pikemen at the far left, the cavalry swept around behind the shieldwall." Baby onions became the cavalry. "The battle horses were in a fighting frenzy and they were biting and kicking and stomping men while the riders were using their lances.
Each time a knight got behind the shieldwall though an existing hole, or from around the end, he would turn and drive through the shieldwall from the back side and created another hole or a bigger hole for the next wave of knights. The shieldmen were almost helpless without the pikemen there to gut the horses, or to drag the riders down."
"But Harold was winning until then!" exclaimed the huscarl.
"He was winning his defense, but not the battle. He had prepared the field to repel horses and had positioned his shieldwall to defend the highway to London. William was losing a fortune in horses and men trying to break through. Harold's plan was to hold him until Edwin arrived with the reinforcements. Harold knew that shieldmen could not attack the cavalry. He knew that he could defend, but he could not attack."
Raynar pushed his model away from him. "So it has been in every battle since. The English position their shieldmen, and then withdraw from the field often without a fight. William has learned how to beat the us, but the English lords have not learned how to beat him."
"You say 'lords' as if there are other English who have learned," stated Bishop Aethelwine.
"There are others who have learned how to fight patrols of Normans, but not armies of Normans. Patrols can be slaughtered by an ambush of bowmen. You cannot ambush an entire army.” Raynar offered his model to the huscarl. "Let us pretend you have double the number of shieldmen. How would you attack William's cavalry?” He swapped benches with the man so the huscarl could trade ideas with Edgar.
"Raynar's warning has two parts," Morcar said, "that we will fail because we cannot attack William, and that the cost of our failure will be high. He has told us of how Edwin failed at Warwick. He has told us how the Welsh princes have chosen to fight with quick ambush and quick retreat. It is likely that William will arrive here before more shieldmen arrive. I begin to agree with Raynar that we leave York in peace, and allow them to make their peace with William. But then what?"
"Wi
thdraw to safety and wait for more men," said Cospatrick. "I too am beginning to fear that we are a danger to York rather than its protector." He looked at the huscarl trying to work out a plan to attack William. The man was becoming frustrated.
"Why not draw William's army north away from York and towards the Scottish border and fight him there?" asked Raynar.
"Why the border?" asked Bishop Aethelwine.
"There are not many Normans in England compared to the size of the country. Every time William garrisons a fort, his marching army becomes smaller. Every time a lord weds an English widow and is needed to run her estate, his marching army becomes smaller. Every time a patrol is slaughtered, his marching army becomes smaller. The further he travels, the smaller will be his marching army, and the longer his retreat. The border puts him as far from the Manche and reinforcements as he can be."
"He may be far from his reinforcements, but he still has them, so his army will still grow larger," Cospatrick pointed out.
"Hereward told me that his spies are reporting great unrest with the Normans who came here two years ago. Many of them are asking William for leave. They long to visit their lands and families across the Manche."
"Then it is a good plan. Especially if we can draw him to the border in the winter," Cospatrick replied, "but we need King Malcolm to agree before we commit ourselves. How could we get William to the border?"
"Make him angry so he chases us there," offered Edgar.
"An angry William is dangerous," replied Raynar. "Why not just deny him the treasure of York and retreat with it as he advances. He has a great need of treasure to pay his army, so he must follow you to steal it."
"I do not think he will follow us," reasoned Cospatrick. "I think he is on a quick tour of his kingdom to gather treasure, and to build baileys to protect any future treasure that is gathered. He is coming directly from Nottingham to York. It may be that he marches no further north, but instead makes for the Humber to capture ships, and then south through Lincoln and Peterburgh."
"Then let us away to Dun Holm and take as much of York's treasure with us as we can," suggested Edgar. "If William follows us to Dun Holm, then we will make for the border. Malcolm will surely help us if William threatens his border."
"You have my blessing for this plan," said the Bishop. "I want peace during the harvest, and this plan will allow it. However, I will not be with you. Someone has to stay here in York and soften William's anger against the folk here. That will be my duty."
"And the Yorkshire men that have joined us?" asked the huscarl.
"Tell them to go home for the harvest, but warn them that if Normans come to their village, they should look and act like farmers, and hide the armour and weapons," said Edgar.
Raynar was about to correct Edgar by reminding him of the Sheriff of Peterburgh’s Writ to kill all Danish men, but the Bishop interrupted, "A moment, thank you for your news, young man. Do you have pressing business elsewhere?"
Raynar knew a dismissal when he heard one. These men would do no more planning in front of him. "I do, sire." He stood, stretched and decided to go back to the Scarlet Man inn where he was staying. His friend Wylie's inn, or rather, Wylie's father's inn.
The huscarl who wanted more shieldmen looked at him and said quietly "You are right. I cannot find a way to attack the heavy cavalry with shieldmen. For us to defeat him, he must attack us first. But that means that if he fears we may win, he will not attack us. This means we can never beat him with just shieldmen."
Raynar bowed his farewells, and received thanks for his information, and a blessing from the Bishop, and then left the hall and made for the gate. A female voice hissed at him from the shadows. He moved towards the noise and a hand reached out from the shadows and pulled him into a passage.
"I thought you would never be finished talking," Margaret whispered. She put her arms around his neck and pulled herself up and kissed him with an open mouth. He returned the kiss and they enjoyed the full length press of their bodies, together.
The minutes passed quickly and yet neither made a move to stop. A hiss came from the inside of the passage way. Margaret whispered in his ear, "Cristina is watching out. That is her warning." She let go of him and disappeared down the passageway towards a now louder hiss. Raynar leaned back against the wall and relaxed.
"This is madness," he thought, "sweet madness." He crossed the yard and called softly to the guards so that he would not surprise them, and they opened the gate for him. It was a short walk to the inn through York's busy streets. He had been to York before and at that time he had thought it wondrous, but now, after seeing Chester, it did not hold the same wonder for him.
* * * * *
Wylie, a friend and skirmisher from the battle of Stamford, was behind the bar in the inn's alehouse. The inn was busy most days because of its location in the center of York and because of how well the inn was run by Wylie's family. Good beds, good food, good service, and good ale. The inn had a large stable which was rare in the center of York, and so most of the rooms had guests with horses, and therefore, spare coin. The alehouse, however, served men of every size of purse. It was full, mainly because of the quality of the ale.
Raynar sat on a stool close to Wylie and they laughed and talked together while Wylie worked. Two of his sisters were serving the ale. They were tall women but had added some weight since last he had visited. Since more weight on a young woman usually meant more cleavage, they would occasionally have to slap hands, and sometimes even faces.
Wylie's father would sometimes walk through the room looking busy as if on some errand. He was a dour man, tall and lantern-jawed. Raynar had never seen him smile or ever say a cheery word to his hard-working and clever family. Wylie's mother was the opposite. She was full of bustle, and seemed to know everyone in town by name.
"So how are the Earls?" Wylie asked as he filled another jug. "We are doing good business with some of their men, you know, those with coin. The ones without coin are camped outside Monk Gate."
"They are living in a dream world, as usual. The longer I am around nobles, the more I realize that English nobs are more like Norman nobs than they are like English folk."
"Someone has to be in charge," said Wylie matter of factly.
"Well then I wish someone would actually take charge, and push the Normans out of this kingdom. They are raiding us like their Norse forefathers did. Worse, because they are like house guests who refuse to leave."
"Maybe that is why they are doing so much raiding. They cannot believe that they haven't been pushed out yet, so they are taking as much as they can now." Wylie grabbed one of his sisters by the arm and told her, "Tell them all that last call is close. There is a curfew tonight because of the street fight last night."
"How long have the Earls been in York?" asked Raynar.
"Lets see. About a fortnight ago the local lads decided not to pay any more taxes to the Norman garrison, and they beat them and sent them off to Nottingham with the message that Normans aren't welcome hereabouts. I remember because we had our best earnings ever that night. The word went out about the rebellion, and the Earls arrived about a week later from Dun Holm. Their men are still arriving, the ones without horses.
"Were you part of the rebellion?" asked Raynar.
"Well, no, and I'll tell you why. We were getting fleeced by the garrison, but once William got to Nottingham that all stopped. Now remember that these Normans up north were all Odo's men, not William's, and they were doing things that had every Danelaw village ready to take up their battle axes. I think William must have told the lords to stop poking sticks at this hornet's nest, but it was too late."
"So you ..."
"I'm getting there. The reason for the rebellion was already gone before the rebels began. The guild and the reeve did some fast talking to have the garrison sent away on foot, rather than floating downstream face down in the River Ouse."
Raynar hung about and forced himself to stay awake until closing time in case W
ylie had any trouble with drunks due to the early closing. He needn't have. Wylie and his sisters had been handling drunks since they could first walk. He watched Wylie's method. He never hit a drunk, or grabbed a drunk other than to help him to his feet.
No, Wyle was always quite polite with his drunks. He simply pushed them. Pushed them gently towards the door to begin with. If they got angry he would push them sideways or backwards or to the other side, and not hard pushes. Not forceful enough to make them angry, but enough to keep a drunk off balance but still on their feet. A drunk who is busy trying to keep his balance can't throw a punch.
By the time they had pushed all the bars in place on the doors and the gates, the watch was calling the curfew out in the street. They reopened a door just once, for a guest late back, and then headed for bed. The well for washing was behind the guest rooms towards the back wall of the yard. When they got there, they had to wait their turns behind a handful of youngish women.
Wylie pulled him back from the well so they could talk in private. "My dad bought the land behind the inn a few years back. It was one house and the land around it, but with no street front. We put that gate in the wall to connect to it. We were using the land for keeping table animals and our horses, until we had the coin to make the inn larger. That was before the battles with the Norse. My mom let some widows stay there until the battles ended, and they never left. They use our well, but are not allowed in the alehouse, or in the guest rooms, unless they are working for us or working for one of the guests."
Raynar looked back towards the inn where two well dressed men were walking towards the well. "By working for the guests you mean ..."
"I mean, we pay them to make the beds in the morning, and the guests pay them to warm them at night. Enough said. You are a guest so prepare yourself to be teased."
It was good he was warned. Knowing that they were being watched by eligible men, the women were accidentally slipping the shoulders of their linen and stretching their bodies and arching their backs as they combed and tied their hair. Once the women recognized Wylie and he had introduced his friend, they lost interest in them and instead hailed some other guests.