by Smith, Skye
He popped his head up quickly to see what was about. Nothing. He raised his head again and looked down into the valley. There was a Norman camp. This village must be Lindley. He ducked down and scrambled back down the backside of the ridge and back to Horace. He was not used to having a horse on the Peak's trails, and he was having to adjust his routes to suite the horse, which meant staying off the steepest and most direct trails.
He mounted and headed north. He found the gorge created by the Aire river and of course, horses could not use stepping stones, so he had to descend to a ford to cross. Now on the north side of the river, he followed it . He approached each village with caution, until he found another with a Norman camp. This must be Loidis. Damn. The Normans were camped on both sides to hold the ford. There was no way to get close without being seen.
He gave up his thoughts of ambushing William at the ford. The problem was that Loidis was the last place he knew to be on William's route. When you need to make a decision it is nice to have a good listener to tell all to. Horace was a very good listener, better than most men. He had been talking to animals since the lonely summers spent in the high peaks with sheep. Whenever he thought aloud, and had to explain his thoughts to the questioning eyes of an animal, the good thoughts separated themselves from the bad and the stupid.
"Come on then," he said patting the mare, "you win. We must leave the hunt for William and warn Cospatrick."
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The Hoodsman - Saving Princesses by Skye Smith Copyright 2010-13
Chapter 27 - Warning Henry at Pevensey, July 1101
The attack on the taxmen came about halfway to Chichester. At first they thought the galloping riders coming up fast behind them were couriers. There would be many couriers in these days of troubles. Raynar strung his bow and nocked a heavy arrow just in case. The three taxmen pulled off the cartway and stopped to let them by. The couriers did not slow as they approached and then at the last moment they whipped out swords and turned to crash into the three.
Raynar kicked his horse and turned it broadside so that it was between the attackers and the taxmen, and in the same movement was on the ground on the shielded side and hopping to keep on his feet. There were five riders. Two of them hit Raynar's horse and were suddenly too busy trying to control their horses and keep their saddles to be an immediate threat. Another evaded the colliding horses by turning across the highway, another evaded a collision by leaping into the bushes. The trailing horse stopped safely.
Raynar felt his age and some new aches as he stood and drew the bow. The trailing rider who had managed to stop in time was suddenly fighting his horse as the horse reared and screamed with the pain of the arrow that found his chest. The man in the bushes was the next immediate threat and his second arrow took him under the left arm to such a depth that Raynar did not bother waiting to see the effect before turning out towards the melee and nocking another arrow.
The senior taxman, no stranger to the sword, had kicked his horse forward and was behind the man on the highway and slashing hard at his left shoulder. The junior tax man was blocking one sword thrust from across Raynar’s horse but behind him another attacker was moving close enough to be deadly. Raynar’s third arrow took this man in the chest at short range. The junior taxman turned to meet the threat of this man not realizing that an arrow had already hit him, but the fight was changing too fast for his wits, and he was stabbed in the back by his first attacker.
Raynar had only one arrow left in hand until he could reach the sheath on his saddle. He put it through the face of the back stabber. He ran to his horse to reach for more arrows, and he could still hear the clash of steel over his shoulder. The junior taxman looked over towards him and his face was ashen. He pulled three more arrows from the sheath on the saddle and pushed past his horse to gain the highway. The trailing man was on the ground with his own horse rolling and squirming and kicking his legs and grinding the saddle into his rider.
He nocked and aimed at the last attacker. The attacker saw he was the last, and that this bow had finished the others. There was no escaping it, so he threw down his sword and held his hands away from his saddle. He was one of Mortain's knights from the Roman fort at Portsmouth.
The senior taxman told Raynar to kill the attacker if he moved, and then he dismounted and ran to his friend and helped him to the ground. The man was coughing blood. He was the walking dead. The coughing stopped and the senior taxman stood up. He went to each of the other bodies. He finished the crushed man with his sword, but the rest were already dead. He tied all the horses together and walked back to the final attacker. Raynar thought he was going to finish the prisoner, and wondered to himself whether he would stop him from doing so.
Instead the taxman told the knight to dismount and then had a look at the knight's injured arm. "You have killed a king's taxman. Your life is forfeit in the highest court." He looked back at his friend. "He was an ornery bastard but he deserved better than a sword in the back." He looked back at the knight. "Any trouble from you," and he pantomimed a slit throat.
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They met up with Henry's army at Lewes at the eastern edge of the South Downs. The army was moving quickly but had left half the men packing the camp at Pevensey. There was quite a stir when four men rode up to them leading four horses carrying bodies. They were taken directly to Henry.
As soon as Henry recognized Raynar he called his lords together and had a clerk spread out a map. Raynar allowed the taxman to tell everything they had done and had seen as Raynar pointed it out on the map. Then it was Mortain's knight's turn. He refused to speak, so he was taken away.
Raynar motioned to Henry that he had something for his ears only, and Henry walked with him away from the lords. "Sire, every decision you make in front of these men will reach Robert's ears," observed Raynar.
"I know this. Many lords who swore to me at my coronation are ready to follow Robert, now that he has landed. " Henry lowered his voice. "I sometimes have black moods of frustration where I think I should just submit."
"Robert has been slowed. You have time to prepare. His ships were late due to tides, and his horses were delayed by a rash of mischief against the herds as they were being moved to Portsmouth."
Henry looked at Raynar, and for the first time in days, laughed aloud. "Mischief. I can imagine."
"What is more, face to face we made sure that Robert knew that the kingdom's Treasury is now in London. I strongly believe that as we speak, Robert is changing his plans, and will now ignore Winchester and make for London with all haste. If you do not block his way, he will not stop until London Bridge. "
Raynar waved the taxman over. "You know the shires roads well. We think Robert will make for London. Where can this army camp to cover all the highways from Portsmouth to London?"
The taxman unfixed his eyes and thought, "Godalming, No, Guildford. Yes Guildford. From there you can put scouts on the Basingestoches way, the Alton way, the Haslemere way, or Stane Street. With scout on each you would be warned in good time to block Robert whichever he chooses."
Henry thanked them and returned to the lords in discussion around the map. Raynar was on his heels. Henry found the places that the taxman had mentioned, stood back, and then made his decision. "We make for Guildford. Set the route, and then send riders back to Pevensey to tell them."
There were many questions from his lords, some in angry voices, about leaving the coast and delaying the meeting of the armies, but Henry did not make further comment. It was obvious to anyone who looked at the map that his plan was to block all the ways to London.
Raynar stood on the closest high ground and looked along the column of men. He motioned to Henry and Henry climbed up to join him. "Sire, where are your English archers?"
"Packing up at Pevensey," replied Henry.
"Sire, they are sworn to you directly. They will not change sides and desert you, because they know that the Normans will cut their fingers off if you l
ose."
"It was politic. The cavalry would not march with them," shrugged Henry.
"You mean that those wanting to switch sides to Robert did not want your personal archers in the battle?"
Henry's temper rose, but he calmed himself and chose to suffer Raynar’s insolence. "What do you suggest?"
"I wish Gregos was here to say this in his politic way." Raynar tried to think like Gregos. "What is your fondest wish for the outcome of all this?"
"That Robert would go back to Normandy and leave me to rule this kingdom," replied Henry.
"You do not care to be the Duke and send Robert back to the crusades?"
"That is not important at this time. I hardly know Normandy. I was born here and have lived most of my adult life here," replied Henry.
"Order your archers and their pikemen to rush, and I mean rush, to Godalming," said Raynar.
"Is that the next town closer to Portsmouth from Guildford?" asked the King.
"The same. But harken. No one is to know of this order save your surest lords."
"Now tell me the why's of this move?" asked Henry, now more interested than angry.
"You need Robert to accept terms that give you the kingdom. He will want the dukedom. He has it already, so you give up nothing at this time. For him to accept terms that leave you as king, he must absolutely believe that his losses will be massive if a battle starts."
"Agreed," confirmed the King.
"He has a dedicated cavalry, many of whom are crusaders. Have you read the reports from the crusades? It is normal for the sides to declare that no quarter will be given. Robert and his crusaders have butchered entire cities larger than London."
"And I fear him loose in England for that very reason," replied Henry.
"As do I. It would be the '70's all over again." Raynar paused. "You, unfortunately, have a cavalry where half may withdraw from the battle. If you cannot force terms from fear of your cavalry, then you must force terms from fear of your bowmen."
"The Normans do not fear archers and they don't know the difference between their archers and my bowmen," stated Henry.
"Then we need a plan. First we don't want the cavalry on either side to know that the bowmen are in the field until you need to use them."
"Ahhh, the why's of Godalming. A separate camp closer to Robert than our cavalry." Henry's mind was alive now. He was thinking it all out faster than Raynar could have explained it. "The bowmen go in advance of the cavalry and choose the battle ground. Ground where they can be positioned for ambush. That means forest land with cover and protection from cavalry attack."
"Exactly, Henry. The two cavalries will line up against each other. Robert comes to offer you terms. You tell him of the ambush, and you make him believe that the archers will slaughter his knights. No taking of hostages, no knightly duels, just raw, vicious slaughter. He will believes it, and he will accept your terms."
A dark look of worry crossed the king's face. He had been trained as a bishop, not as a general or a warrior, and now he was facing crusaders. Professionals with the experience of many battles. "What if he doesn't believe it?” He almost lost heart. "Oh Raynar, what if he attacks in any case?"
"He has just come from the carnage of the Holy Lands. Such slaughter is common there. He will believe it. If he attacks then his worst nightmare will come true. The bowmen will not volley their arrows at his knights. They will pick off their horses with well aimed shots, one by one, and then destroy the riders."
Henry was lost in thought, then, "You are saying that I will not be able to accept his terms, if he doesn't accept terms? You are saying that there will be ..."
"Raw, vicious slaughter," Raynar finished his sentence, "and you will be both King and Duke."
"No," spoke Henry.
Raynar could see that this king, trained for the church, was having second thoughts. He changed the plan. "All right then. Raw, vicious slaughter of their horses, and when the riders are pitched to the ground, then again demand the terms."
"Brilliant, but that would still injure many. I would prefer that none were injured," Henry paused. "But if I must, I will. Archbishop Anselm is with me. I will ask for his help," said Henry.
"Do not trust many with this plan. A misplaced trust could cost you dearly," warned Raynar.
"I want you to take charge of the bowmen," said Henry.
"No"
"And if I order it?" said Henry, getting flushed with anger again at the insubordination.
"Henry, I, and a lot of your bowmen have spent our lives fighting the kind of bastards that ride with Robert. If you put me in charge of the bowmen there will only be one outcome. All of the Robert's men will die. I will order your bowmen to do this, and they will jump to it with glee. I will not risk the '70's again for the sake of knightly posturing."
Henry looked into Raynar’s eyes, those eyes that had seen too much suffering, too much death. "You are serious. You would order their death, and make it happen."
"In an instant and without regret. It would be a better outcome for the English than risking having Robert replace you as king. You would be King and Duke immediately. A thousand murdering bastards would no longer terrorize the folk of Normandy. Oh, I am very serious." There was steel in Raynar’s voice and in his eyes.
Henry thought back to the night when his lovely bride-to-be Edith had demanded that Raynar give her away. What was it she had said - 'I want the man who killed Harald of Norway to witness our vows.' He shuddered. Of course Raynar would kill his brother. In an instant without regret.
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The Hoodsman - Saving Princesses by Skye Smith Copyright 2010-13
Chapter 28 - Warning Cospatrick on the River Aire in November 1069
Warning Cospatrick that his army was in danger of being flanked was easier said than done. First young Raynar had to find his way through the flooded fields downstream along the River Aire. Then he had to stay alive under the gaze of the axemen that were patrolling the few dry paths. Then he had to convince someone to take him to Cospatrick.
Eventually, he found a shieldman who remembered him from Dun Holm, and he was led to a large camp facing Castleford. The camp was a strong reminder of why armies should stay on the move. The villages and fields for miles around the camp were picked clean.
The camp stank of shit and dead carcasses. The water lying in deep pools around the camp smelled putrid. The main areas had been churned to mud and men were sleeping out and sleeping damp. It was no surprise when his escort told him that half of the camp were horribly ill with the water sickness. The sounds and smells of puking and diarrhea followed them though the camp.
Cospatrick was in his fancy marquee tent. By the time he reached it, Raynar was in a foul mood caused by the sight of so many needlessly sick men. Sick from the incompetence of these lords in how to run a camp. He took the guards at the entrance flap by surprise by just pushing them out of his way as he walked in unannounced. Cospatrick was not alone, and all the men with him looked towards the disturbance.
"What in Hades are you doing here?" growled Raynar as he moved out of reach of the two sprawled guards.
"I could ask you the same," replied Cospatrick as he pushed through the men who had stepped in front of Raynar with daggers drawn. Cospatrick grasped Raynar'ss arm as warriors are wont to do. "This is Raynar of the Peaks, Hereward and Edwin's man," he told the others. Some recognized him from Scotland, others from Dun Holm. "Do you bring word from Edwin, or from Edgar?"
"I bring word from Lincoln. Give the orders to break camp. Your sick men won't get well sitting in this shitty swamp."
The other men again moved towards Raynar with angry sounds. A huscarl with a dagger in his hand growled, "Who is this farmer that he speaks to you in this way? Should I teach him manners?"
"You forget yourself, Raynar," cautioned Cospatrick, and then to the other men, "Be calm, he looks done in."
Raynar did not calm. "Where is Malcolm?" At the lack of respect
for a king the men growled again.
"Malcolm is still at the Tees. He sent many Scots with us. He will come when we need him," replied Cospatrick.
"Would you make a wager on that? His horses are probably packed with every treasure they could steal in Northumbria. Meanwhile you are eating mud pies and are about to be outflanked by William."
"What did you say?"
"William is back," said Raynar.
"What do you mean he is back? Back from where?"
"Have you no spies? Have you no idea what has been happening in the rest of England?"
There was not a sound from all the grand men in the grand tent. "William is on the south bank of the Humber trying to keep the Danes from taking Lincoln," said the huscarl.
"Bullshit! While you were sitting in the mud for three weeks getting the water sickness," yelled Raynar. "William rode to Stafford where he has defeated the Mercians, the Prince of Powys, and Eadric the wild. They lost good men in order to split William's army, and you sat here and wasted that gift. William was in Sherwood yesterday. He will probably cross the River Aire at Loidis tomorrow morning, and flank you and bury you by tomorrow night."
"That cannot be true," replied the huscarl. "Without William on the south bank of the Humber, the Danes would have marched on Lincoln, and by now would be attacking Castleford from the south."
"The only one who marched on Lincoln was Edgar, and he only after his ship foundered. The Normans almost caught the hapless man, but I got word to him in time for him to escape the trap." He pointed a finger at the huscarl. "Jarl Osbard has accepted Danegeld from William. His fleet is standing off the mouth of the Humber waiting for the payment and waiting for favourable seas so they can sail back to Denmark before the winter storms."