The Hoodsman - Killing Kings

by Skye Smith

  What I eventually ended up with was a staff that became more like a bow as it got higher, and had a curl like a shepherd's crook at the top. Most folk thought it a shepherd's crook and were shocked when I would string it. Though clumsy and heavy, I could string the upper three quarters and shoot an arrow with accuracy and force enough to hunt. The secret was to plant the base firmly on the ground and then step into the bow and use your back to draw it.

  I was so proud of it, that it hurt me deeply when no one else ever asked me to make one for them. The Welsh and the foresters did not need the staff. They liked their bows just fine the way they were. The shepherds used a sling rather than a bow, because they did not want to retrieve arrows on the mountain paths, and besides, sling stones are free and everywhere. The porters were not trained to the bow and could neither draw it fully nor shoot it straight.

  I loved my bowstaff and I carried it always until the Normans took over, and now in my old age, I keep promising myself to make another. I have learned the value of having a weapon that did not look like a weapon."

  Risto smiled and hefted his staff, which could be turned quickly into a pike, and pulled at his belt, which was also a sling.

  Risto asked Raynar to continue his story, but Gregos was quicker with a question. "So this sheltered glade on the porterway was in a valley leading to a mountain ridge and a pass. You say it was like a spa where sick miners went to get well or to die. Were there hot springs or sulphur springs?"

  "If this were Al-Andalus it would be called a spa, but we just called it the glade. It was a natural refuge but without hot pools. I think of the glade more like a hospital than a spa. Sick men had a better chance of healing because of the pure water. Not just for drinking and cooking, but for washing hands and cups. Even the children were healthier than those from other villages. The water was tasty, but without minerals such as sulphur."

  Gregos was pulling at the straps of his pack and circling his shoulders and stretching his back. He looked over at Raynar. "This pack has kinked my shoulders. You were a porter transporting lead in such a pack. How much would you carry?"

  Raynar thought a bit. "Half the porter's weight was a normal load. Being a porter was good work for a young man, but there was no future in it. Porters would live to a good age so long as they did not overload themselves, or fall badly.

  Though most were freemen, few had wives or homes. They ate big and drank big and paid for shelter with their earnings, with little thought to saving. Porters earned much more than the shepherds and yet the shepherds had wives and homes. I suppose the profit was in the cargo, and not in the carrying."

  Risto motioned with his hand to stop the story while he watched two couriers punish their horses making for London. When they were past, he turned to Raynar and said, "I am really not interested in lives of porters. Skip along in time to when you ceased to be a porter, for you somehow became a very cultured man. A man who keeps company with nobles."

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  THE HOODSMAN - Killing Kings by Skye Smith

  Chapter 17 - Meeting a King, Tatecastre, Yorkshire in September 1066

  After a few hours and a few false tracks, Hereward finally found the place where his friends had been killed by the Norse spy with his Byzantine bow. He and Raynar dismounted and hobbled their horses. Hereward strung his bow, and pulled his quiver out of his gear. His arrow was nocked before Raynar could bend his staff-bow enough to string it. "Put the archer's short sword in your belt, Raynar. It may be just the ghosts, but I don't like the feel of this place."

  They spread apart and each chose their own path to the center of the copse. There was no one about but two horses standing patiently. "Would that my own horse were as well trained," called Hereward, "They have stayed by their masters throughout that storm." Sure enough, the horses marked the places where they found two corpses, both with arrows in the chest. The farms around were desolate and so the corpses had not been disturbed.

  Hereward waved for his attention. "Help me load them on their horses." This took more effort than they allowed, as the horses decided not to cooperate. "The other horse must have bolted. Lead those this way, I think Aethelu was dropped over by that walnut tree."

  Sure enough, they found the third corpse, and loaded him onto their spare horse. "Come then, and let's be quick. I have a report to make that will surely change the plans of my lord."

  They rode through camp after camp of damp but noisy fyrdmen, until Hereward spotted a blue pennant on a poleaxe and changed course to go to it. He was greeted by a dozen men, and a handful of them immediately took charge of the corpses. "It was a bad day for the women of Wachefeld," Hereward told them, "but the task got done and the vengeance was immediate thanks to Raynar here."

  The men about them filled the air with questions, but he quietened them and said, "The story must wait. Is the Earl about?" He was pointed to a Marquee on a slight rise and he turned to Raynar and said, "Come with me and bring your map".

  * * * * *

  Raynar was amazed that his rough companion, Hereward, could simply call out his name, march passed the guards, and enter the big tent, the headquarters of an army. He was even more amazed when it was pointed out to him that inside the Marquee there was not just one Earl, but three Earls and a King.

  He had no idea about protocol or bowing and scraping, but then neither it seemed did Hereward. The warrior pushed better-dressed men aside in his hurry to reach the big table in the center, and break into the discussions around the king.

  Hereward waited for the objections and the side chatter to wind down and then he began his report. "The Norse scouts are dead, at a cost of three good men and true. They did not make it to the Norse camp and their corpses are hidden, so the Norse will think they are still about and still scouting. Before they died, they talked. The army is at Stamford and the ships are at Riccall. They must be setting up a defendable supply route along the River Derwent to Stamford."

  No one said a word. There was a very large map spread on the table and they were all looking down at it trying to find the River Derwent. Hereward turned to Raynar. "Raynar of the Peaks, come forward and unroll your map."

  Raynar almost tripped in his clumsiness when the Earls and the King looked around at him. "This lad Raynar killed the Norse spies. He carries a powerful bow."

  A scribe helped Raynar to flatten his map. It was a small scroll compared to the map on the table, so the great men all squeezed closer to him. He explained the color scheme and he took the scribe's quill and pointed out the key rivers and roads and towns. When he had no more to say, Hereward told him to help himself to the food on the laden bench at the rear of the big tent.

  One of the Earls snapped out orders to his scribes to immediately update the big map with the features shown by this small one, and to make corrections in the position of the Derwent. He then turned to another scribe and ordered that once the big map was corrected, six identical copies were to be made of the small map, but without the artistic flourishes.

  He confirmed that once the first copy was made, the original was to be returned to its owner, the lad. The same Earl then turned to a huscarl and ordered that he find some boatmen with first hand knowledge of the River Derwent. The huscarl left the huge tent at a run.

  The nobles all then moved away from the table to give the scribes room to work, and some drifted over to the food bench where Raynar was munching on a pork pie. The Earl who had been giving all the orders grabbed a pork pie too, and asked Raynar, "Do you trust the map, lad? Where did you get it?"

  Raynar replied nervously, "It is a copy of a map from the library of Repton Abbey in Derbyshire. I am here on the abbey's business."

  Hereward reached across his Earl and grabbed a pork pie as well. "Be careful of him Edwin," he warned, "his boss is a monk, and yet he just spiked two Byzantine-trained warriors to a mill wall with his arrows, and that only because they were being rude by waving their winkies at a local farm girl. If this war gets in this
lad's way much longer, he may spike Harald of Norway with an arrow just to hurry its finish."

  "Byzantine," the king said from the other side of Earl Edwin and he pushed closer. "So it is true? There are Byzantines with the Norse?"

  Hereward answered, "There are two we know of, and we brought their armour and weapons if you are interested. We must assume that there are more of them, if they were using those two on a normal scouting mission. The Byzantine archer took one of my men while using his bow at full gallop, and took another while leaning over the far side of his horse's shoulders and shooting under the horse's neck."

  "I would see this armour, have it brought here." The king waved his hand.

  Raynar and Hereward each grabbed another pork pie, and without even a "by your leave" or a bow, they walked out through the door flap into the bright sunshine and down the rise back to Hereward's camp. They returned with the spare horse, minus the corpse but still loaded with the sacks of weapons and armour. With sacks over their backs, they marched again through the guards and the door flaps and up to a vacant bench, where they set out the pieces for display.

  A lad in a rich cloak was the first of the nobles to come to inspect them. Hereward nodded to him with a slight bow. The lad gave Raynar a quick smile and hefted one of the pieces. The armour was light. It looked like fish scales, as it was made of curved leaves of steel that were overlapped in a like way.

  Hereward explained that it was lighter than mail and better for fending arrows and spear jabs, but not so good against axes and heavy swords. The lad tried on one piece and the covetousness clearly showed in his eyes.

  Hereward pulled Raynar away from the growing crowd about the armour and warned him, "Be polite to the lad for he is a prince. Prince Edgar."

  "The king's son?" Raynar asked.

  "No, he's the son of the Saxon lord who used to be the Earl of Wessex. A man who could have been our current king if he had not got himself exiled." His voice lowered to the level of secrets. "Prince Edgar and his sisters grew up in the Royal Court of Hungary, or some such place. The sisters are both lookers. Wouldn't mind a night or two with either of them."

  Hereward guffawed at the look of shock his last words had put on Raynar's face. He was still chuckling as they went over to where two boatmen were being questioned about the River Derwent. They stood beside the scribe who was making notes.

  Yes, the Derwent can float a boat. At this time of year a flat-bottomed river punt, but once the rains start you could move ships up to thirty feet in length.

  Stamford was important because it is where the old Roman street from York to the coast crossed the Derwent.

  No, there is no village at Stamford, just an all weather ford used by the street.

  No, there is no bridge, but a mile south there used to be a stone bridge. The foundation still stands, but the span has collapsed.

  The ford is shallow and wide, and a boat cannot pass it. The ford is at the point where the Derwent changes from hill stream to flatland river.

  The boatmen were asked to stay and help the scribes fill in details of the river on the map.

  Earl Edwin noticed that Hereward was near and called out, "We need your keen mind, Hereward. Come to the map and tell us what you think. For instance, why are the Norse in Stamford?"

  Hereward stared at the updated map and thought hard before he spoke. "It's close to York, it's on the street from York to the coast, it's on the River Derwent that connects to the Ouse." He called over to the boatmen. "Is there any other ford across the River Derwent to the south of Stamford?"

  The answer was no. "Well, there is your answer. It's a safe place to wait and has a defendable route to their ships, for they control both banks of the Derwent, but only one bank of the Ouse."

  Hereward closed his eyes and formed his next words carefully. "The difficult answer is not why they chose Stamford, but why they didn't press their advantage after so soundly defeating our Northern Army at Fulford. There is more to this than we know. Perhaps Harald was injured, or his own losses were high, or perhaps he no longer trusts Tostig.

  Years ago I spent some time with Tostig, but I soon learned not to trust him. He is a liar and a cheat. He would play man against man and hold himself back while they weakened themselves until he could pick the winner, or make them both losers. I think he has perfected that tactic and now uses it with kings and armies.

  Harald of Norway wants to control the Danelaw and the North Sea coast of England, to make his claim for the throne of Denmark undeniable. He wants to be the next Knut, Emperor of the North Sea. Tostig has helped him so that he can be named the Jarl of the Danelaw.

  William of Normandy wants Wessex this year, to give him control of the Celtic Sea, and afterwards his claim to the throne of England will be undeniable. Tostig has helped him so that he can become the Earl of Northumbria and Mercia.

  You see? For Tostig the end is the same. He rules the Danelaw."

  At the sounding of his brother's name, King Harold looked up from a discussion with another Earl about the merits of the Byzantine armour. Hereward caught the king's look and explained, "My apologies sire, I was talking about your brother Tostig, and Harald of Norway, not you."

  The King walked towards him and said "Continue, and do not spare my feelings. Tostig was long ago lost to me as a brother. I also see his cunning in both of these invasions."

  Hereward looked at Harold and said what they were both thinking. "The Norse have heard that the Normans were delayed by the wind and have not yet landed. They will wait until Norman and English warriors are killing each other before they commit to their next move."

  Earl Edwin spoke up. "Yes, that all makes sense when I think about it. The Norse landing was nothing like a normal Norse raid. There was no slaughter and pillage on the coast, and still none as he moved towards York. They took food and horses and carts, as would any army on the move, but there was no destruction of lives or property.

  Even though there was no quarter on the battlefield at Fulford, when we withdrew he allowed it and instead of pressing on and finishing us, he bargained for hostages and tribute instead. A would-be king does not slaughter those he would rule."

  Hereward motioned to the Earl that he had more to say. "Trading hostages for tribute gold is a process that takes patience. Harald can afford to be patient. The fields are full of food. William has not yet landed. He may even draw back to his ships and make a show of leaving, for that will allow English and Norman armies to slaughter each other more fully."

  Everyone tried to speak at once. The king put his hand in the air and yelled, "Hold!" and the chatter slowly died away. "Whether the fates allow Hereward to be right or wrong, we cannot stand by and watch. Harald's basic need right now is treasure, so that he can pay for his ships and his men. If that gains him Knut's crown, so much the better."

  The king looked around meaningfully at the Earls. "He may stay camped near York, or he may put to sea in his ships. Unfortunately, Harald at sea becomes an even greater threat to us. It will be too late for them to reach Norway this season, so where will he winter? He could land anywhere on our shores or on any shore of our allies around the North Sea. Worse, that evil brother of mine may broker a pact so that the Norse navy helps to move the Norman army to our south coast."

  The king looked around while he waited for those words to sink in. "We do not have the luxury of waiting to see what Harald's intentions are. Our warriors need to be fast getting back to the south to face Normandy. Our fyrdmen need to be fast getting back to the fields to save the harvest. We must cripple Harald and cripple his ships, and we must do it now. Now let's get on with the planning."

  The king reached across Edwin and grabbed Hereward by the arm. "Hereward, take Raynar and the rest of your skirmishers to Stamford. I want scouting reports. I want numbers. I want to know if he is supplying himself using the Street or the Derwent or both."

  Next he gave orders to another of the Earls, a man by the resemblance must have been Edwin's brother. "
Morcar , gather your ships' captains and the river navigators. We need to plan an attack on the Norse ships at Riccall. They must not be allowed to reach the sea. It matters not whether we block the Humber or burn the Norse ships, but they must not reach the sea."

  Finally he had orders for Earl Edwin. "Edwin, I need you to plan a march to Stamford. I need the truth from York as to exactly what was promised to Harald. We must move quickly. We must surprise Harald before he learns that my army is here and not in the South. "

  The king took a deep breath and scanned the faces again. "What are you waiting for Hereward? I said go now."

  As Raynar made for the door flap in Hereward's wake, Earl Edwin grabbed his arm. "I will surety your armour, lad. You will get your prize, or its price on your return." Edwin kept hold of his arm while he waved trying to catch someone’s attention across the tent. Then he made a hand signal.

  Instantly, a scribe was dodging towards them between men, dwarfed by the giants that were the warlords of the clans. The scribe bowed and put something long and soft into Raynar’s hand. "Don't forget your map, lad," said Edwin as he let go of Raynar and turned back towards the planning table.