by Smith, Skye
"It could last for months, or at least until York's bailey runs out of food and water."
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The standoff did continue, but not for military reasons. Unlike the Norman army which was filled with professional warriors, the Northumbrian army and the Danish armies were filled with farmers who were away from their own lands and families during harvest season. The fields of Yorkshire needed harvesting for want of the local men to do it.
The harvest began as normal, as timed by the weather, as it must. Instead of harvesting their own crops with their own wives, the Danes and the Daneglish harvested the crops close by to their billets, and ploughed someone else’s wife. Or so Raynar was told by the washing women who worked along the flat river stones upstream from Selby. They seemed to know everything before the commanders did.
A roly-poly looking woman with pink cheeks and red raw hands told him the way of it while she beat her laundry against a flat rock. "A man's place is to bring in the harvest. A women's place is to feed him on ale and sex until it is done. It doesn't make no never mind if he's her man or not, so long as the harvest gets in." Raynar passed this information on to Thorold who passed it on up the chain of command. A week later it was confirmed by William's spies across the Humber. The harvest was underway across Yorkshire.
Meanwhile, in peaceful north Lincolnshire the harvest was blowing in the wind and doing no good for anyone but the birds. The farmers were Daneglish and, fearing the Normans, they were in hiding with their wives and families. And, of course, the Norman's weren't about to do something useful and menial like bring in a harvest.
Eventually even the Norman warlords had to admit that they needed the harvest, but by then it was too late. In September early storms swept over the land and a hard rain fell as if it were November. The land along the rivers to the Humber became quagmires of mud. What crops were not yet in were bent to the ground by the weight of their sodden heads.
The rivers rose, and as the channels deepened the Danes boarded their ships and rowed upstream towards the Derwent. William's mounted army could not follow them through the treacherous mud of the south bank. The cavalry's advantage disappeared into the mud.
At Selby the Breton archers were put on alert. The Danish fleet was approaching and only the boom stood between it and York. The Danes made one attempt to break the boom but were repelled by a hail of points. They then tried to make a landing on the north bank and attack the platform from the land, but the mud slowed them so much that charging the platform was akin to suicide.
Thorold and Raynar were in the south tower looking downstream watching for the next attack, when they heard a warning from the boats that shuttled between the banks. They looked around just as a massive tree, roots and crown, snagged a boat and swung it around in the current. The tree continued, unstoppable in the flood, and hit the center of the boom. The boom naturally bowed in a normal current, but now it was holding back the flood and the massive tree.
Something had to give. The pilings on the south bank shifted and then bent over in the mud, and then gave up their grasp of the land completely to the forces of the boom and the river. The boom was loose on the other shore and pulling the pilings, which undermined the uprights of the north tower and the tower, with twenty men, began leaning towards the river.
Then the center of the boom, now snagged by the tree, seemed to dive under water and the entire boom shuddered and then it was free and being dragged by the tree downstream. Archers on the leaning tower were climbing and sliding down the frame . A second boat had lashed itself to the damage one, and both were staying afloat but were also swirling down stream.
Thorold was cursing the rain and grieving for his invention, now lost. "Well maybe something good will come of it. Perhaps it will cause havoc in the fleet."
But it didn't. The fleet just sidestepped the tree and the two ends of the boom and laid their backs into the oars and rowed towards York.
"That fleet will have easily outrun William's army!" Thorold yelled to the Norman commander who was now down below the south tower looking lost and perhaps frightened. "William will need to march inland from Escumetorp in order to cross the flood of the River Trent. Who knows how swollen it is by now? Who knows how long it will take William to get here?"
The Danes had finally got their wish. They were unloading on the south bank, and there were not enough men to stop them. The Norman commander did as Thorold suggested and sent messengers up and down the Ouse and the Wharfe rivers. The message was simple. "Abandon your posts and retreat south across the River Aire and make new posts there."
That order started a panic in Selby. The persistent downpour, the gummy mud, the lack of any plan other than retreat south, all caused confusion. Raynar was not confused. He grabbed Thorold and pulled him towards the ladder of the tower and forced him to climb down. They slopped up the slope to their billet, collected their weapons and kits and the other four bowmen and continued to the stable. Their horses were already saddled by a group of men trying to steal them. It took the threat of arrows to make them see the sense of choosing other horses to steal.
"Where to?" asked Thorold, still confused by how quickly peace had become battle.
"To Lincoln to save Beatrice," yelled Raynar so as to be heard above the din of the panic.
They rode, or rather, slipped and slid southwards towards Thorne to get away from all of the armies and to escape the lowest of the muddy land.
"So it wasn't just the harvest that caused the standoff at York. The Danes were waiting for the rivers to deepen," Thorold said as he caught up to Raynar.
"These rains are early, especially for rain this hard. They could not have known."
"They are seamen. They know the weather like they know the tides. They knew. They were waiting," repeated Thorold.
They reached a crossroad. The other cartway ran east towards Escumetorp. Raynar wanted to take it, but Thorold would not let him. "We will meet William on that road," they both said in unison, but with differing meanings.
Thorold needed to turn Raynar from the road that would take him to William. "We must save Beatrice and Lucy," he said, and carried on south towards Lincoln. Raynar moaned in frustration, and stayed in the center of the crossroad, wishing that William would ride up to him at that moment. But then Beatrice's words came to him. 'If you cannot save us, then you must save Lucy.' and he cursed the fates and followed Thorold.
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The Hoodsman - Saving Princesses by Skye Smith Copyright 2010-13
Chapter 23 - In the palace's garden, Winchester, July 1101
Gregos shuffled towards them through the summer flowers of the garden at Winchester palace. Edith motioned him permission to join her where she was sitting talking to Raynar. She was wearing pale green silk, save for the white wool shawl around her shoulders.
It had been with great relief that the court had moved from London to Winchester for Easter. Such a great relief that they had yet to return to London. The winter had been long in London with icy winds and sleet. Early spring in London had been dismal under rain clouds and the mud and muck that the rain created in the filth of the city. Winchester, on the other hand, had been missed by the winter storms and a warm lush spring was promising a good summer.
Edith was still under a physician's care from her miscarriage and was not allowed to wander further than the garden. Raynar met her in the garden every morning and tried to keep her mind from her sadness. Not just the sadness of the loss of her first child, and a boy at that, but also the sadness in knowing that she could not lay again with her man for some more months, thus he was again laying with his long time mistress, Sybilla.
Her husband, King Henry, was away and in Kent. There had been news from Normandy that his brother Count Robert was bringing an army to land in England and claim his crown, and Henry had gone to meet him, or block him, or fight him, or something. Those decisions would be made if Robert ever got across the Manche.
Meanwhile, she was in charge, with the help of Gregos and the new Chancellor. Not that there was much to do. It was summer and the kingdom was peaceful. With Henry and Gregos running the finances, the kingdom was back on its feet and there was money in the markets, and the folk had work and food.
Even the rebellious barons were behaving themselves, biding their time until Count Robert arrived. If he arrived. Robert was apparently securing enough ships to transport his army's battle horses. It was summer, after all, and the ships were all off doing what they should be doing in the summer. Trading.
Gregos and Raynar were whispering to each other, while she closed her eyes and enjoyed the sunshine on her face. There was a tap on a flagstone, and she looked up and looked over to one of her guards who had tapped his pike to get her attention. The guard bowed deeply. "Your highness, a large ruffian calling himself John Wheelwright is at the gate asking to urgently see either Master Raynar or Master Gregos."
"Bring him here then," she said impatiently, then winked at Gregos, "I hope that he brings news of Henry. I miss him so much, and I am bored to tears by all the care and consideration that I am attracting."
A few moments later a giant stepped into the garden and strode towards them. Two very nervous guards accompanied this throwback to the Viking age. Gregos waved them back to their posts. Raynar switched benches to the one that the queen was sitting on, and playfully pushed her further along it. This gave John a place to sit next to Gregos, or at least a place for part of John to sit.
"John in a palace. This must be important. Has Jesus finally come and is he in your wool barn?" Raynar jested.
John looked nervously at Edith, or as he knew her, Queen Mathilde, and was unsure of even sitting in her presence, never mind speaking.
She saw his embarrassment and said, "John, I have heard so many tales of your bravery from Raynar that I feel we have already met. I am so glad to finally meet you in person." John now looked even more uncomfortable from the complements.
"John, what is so urgent?" Gregos asked knowing that his telling it would make him more comfortable.
"Raynar asked that my carters keep a sharp eye for anything unusual in the shires."
"John runs the largest carting business in two shires and has hundreds of men working for him or with him," Raynar explained softly to Edith.
John noisily cleared his throat but then wondered if it was permitted to spit in the company of his queen. He swallowed it down instead. "Overnight my carters have sent me messages from around the shire. The messages all say near the same thing. Many empty horses being herded towards Portsmouth."
Gregos stood up instantly and clapped his hands and yelled to the guard. "Send to the treasury for my clerk. Immediately. Now!” The other three looked at him with alarm.
"Henry's spies in Normandy have been telling us that his brother Robert is not yet ready to sail because he hasn't been able to gather boats enough to ferry his horses." Gregos looked at the questioning looks, and only John seemed to understand. "He has decided not to wait for the extra ships. Robert's army will be met with horses at Portsmouth."
"But my husband and his army are waiting for him at Pevensey, at least two days away." Edith looked stricken and Raynar put an arm around her.
"Why Portsmouth?" asked Gregos. The others stared at him that he would ask such an easy question. "I mean why Portsmouth other than Robert must know that Henry is in Pevensey?"
"Easy march to Winchester," offered John.
"Winchester is nothing," reasoned Gregos. "If he were sailing the extra distance it would be better to sail in the other direction and land closer to London."
"Robert's biggest supporters are the barons along the Welsh border. Perhaps he means to join with them before pressing to London," offered Raynar.
"Yes," reasoned Gregos, "but he also has strong support in Kent with barons who could also defend his landing."
"The treasury," Edith offered, "we have just spent the morning talking of the importance of controlling a treasury. Oh, but Henry's real treasury is in London. The one here in Winchester is now just used for running the shire."
They looked towards Gregos waiting for another wise comment, and there was none. And then, "Of course! Robert does not know that the treasury has been moved. We have been in Winchester some months now. Robert must think that Henry still rules from here, rather than from London. You are right, my Queen. He is coming here for the treasury, and he is hoping to beat Henry to it."
A treasury clerk arrived with a stool and a lap table. He was about to start at least five minutes of bowing and groveling, but Gregos told him to get set up to write immediately. He dictated a message to Henry telling him of the horses moving to Portsmouth and that it was likely that Robert was about to land there, and that he may be moving on Winchester to capture the treasury.
"Has the daily courier to the King left yet?" Gregos asked.
"No, not until noon," said the clerk.
"Make two copies," ordered Gregos, "one is to go with the daily courier. Send the other immediately with two treasury agents. Both will need my signet. I want the agents to leave as soon as they are ready.” The clerk rose to leave. "And send someone to find the tax collectors for Portsmouth. They are to wait for me outside my quarters."
The clerk would not be denied a long bow to his Queen and a backing away from her, and then he was gone.
Raynar looked at Edith. "Edith, have I ever told you about he Brotherhood of the Arrow? Yes? Good. A long time ago, both John and I were members. Please treat what you are about to hear as secret, from anyone, including Henry."
She nodded eagerly. She loved secrets. Suddenly she wasn't bored any more. She felt better already.
Raynar turned to John. "Think the lads can delay the delivery of those horses?"
"Shouldn't wonder," replied John, "my men tell me the herds look innocent enough. Just some stable hands delivering horses to market. Problem is, there is no horse market in Portsmouth. Each of the herds could be scattered by a few of our lads. As long as the lads don't take any horses for themselves, there is no crime in it."
"Put the word out to the entire shire, but especially south from Winchester and over towards Portsmouth. Scatter any herds of horses."
"Right then," John stood up and began to stride out through the garden. He stopped and turned and said, "Oops!" and then bowed with exaggerated grace to her majesty. "Sorry love, I forgot,” and he was gone.
"I also must leave you, your highness," said Gregos. "I must send the tax collectors to Portsmouth to levy the duty on whatever Robert brings into the kingdom. I will instruct them to be honest and businesslike with Robert, and of course, and especially, to tell him that the treasury is now in London. That Winchester now contains nothing but recent collections from this shire.” He kissed Edith's hand and backed away, and then left.
Edith brushed against Raynar because she felt him stirring to leave also. "Portsmouth or Pevensey?" she asked.
"Portsmouth first. How did you know?"
"You almost stood up when Gregos told us that he would send some collectors to Portsmouth. Will you go with the collectors?"
"I will be dressed as one of them," Raynar assured her. Tax men were well protected by all laws, English or Norman.
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The Hoodsman - Saving Princesses by Skye Smith Copyright 2010-13
Chapter 24 - Saving Countess Beatrice in Lincoln in October 1069
Saving Beatrice was as easy as riding up to the door of the great house where she was a 'guest' and taking her, Lucy, and Anske away. The guard at the door had worked for the old sheriff Thorold for years and did not stop him, and did not call for help from the other guards.
"I'll just tell them you decided that Lincoln was no longer safe, shall I? I shall," the guard said. Besides, these six filthy and wild-looking men that were standing in front of him, had pushed rain and mud to get here and had a look of violent impatience about them.
Two b
owmen walked so that Beatrice, Lucy, and Anske could ride above the muddy shit of the street. The serving staff at Thorold’s town house were surprised by their coming but genuinely glad to see them and ran quickly to prepare rooms and food for the soggy wet travelers. Within minutes they were sat around a warm hearth in dry cloaks drinking hot spiced ale, while their filthy clothes were hurried away for a washing.
They had reached Lincoln at about the same time as a dozen couriers from commanders retreating to the River Aire. The couriers were not bringing news so much as asking for orders. Thorold had come to secure his family, but while his family were escorted to his own house, he still felt duty-bound to make his own report at this rambling house that William had commandeered for his palace.
Thorold held back his own report so that he could listen to the other reports. They were all similar. The Danes had moved faster in the mud than could the heavy knights and horses. All of the Breton archers had made it to the Aire and across it. The Normans had to fight a rear guard action but most of them eventually made it to the River Aire where the Bretons covered their crossing.
To cross the Aire, the Normans had to strip off their armour so they would not drown. The Aire was rising by the hour and flooding fields wide around its course. William had sent word that he was on his way from Escumetorp to Pontefract where he would form a defensive line along the river Aire. His orders were to hold the Aire until he arrived.
"William is now totally cut off from York," said Thorold when he reached his own house. It was late. Only Raynar and Beatrice had been waiting up for him. "The Danes are on the south bank, not along the Humber, but along the Wharfe and the Ouse. And there was other news from the south. The Welsh and Eadric are attacking Shrewsbury on the Welsh border." He held up his warm spiced ale in a toast. "Here's to the end of William the Bastard and his Normans."
"Kings and barons, jarls and earls. Bah to all of them," muttered Raynar. "Think of the tens of thousands of folk who are away from their homes and their families and suffering this weather. And why? Because of the greed of the ruling classes."