The Hoodsman - Killing Kings

by Skye Smith

The ridge at Stamford was the last time I saw Harold, though through my friendship with Hereward, I saw a good deal of Edwin and his warrior brother Morcar over the years. But I did not swear to any lord. At that point I was still just the abbey's man in search of carts."

  "From a slayer of kings to a carter in one afternoon. So did you go back to the Abbey?" Risto asked between bites of a drumstick so tiny it must have been from a starling.

  "Actually, Wyle took me home to the Scarlet Man Inn in York, and introduced me to his sisters."

  Risto leaned forward and stopped chewing to better hear what he hoped were going to be some naughty bits.

  "We were in such a hurry to leave the atrocious gore of the field of battle that we did not even stop to wash. We just mounted two skirmisher horses, and play-acted like we were taking a message to York.

  Needless to say, we did not make a good impression on Wylie's family. We looked like the walking dead, and smelled of carnage, but they were joyous to see Wylie alive and not crippled. His mother had thought him dead at Fulford when she heard no news from him. We were typical teenage boys, heedless of the worries of mothers." Raynar paused for effect, while he cut himself some bread and cheese.

  "Wylie was her baby, but though she and his sisters wanted to hug and kiss and welcome him, they would not come near the grime. They were certainly not pleased when Wylie told them to be thankful he was an archer and not a shieldman, else he would be covered in Norse gore. They handed us some bread, some ale, some buckets of water, and told us to sleep in the stable until we smelled of rosewater. I liked Wylie's family a lot - well, perhaps not his ever-so-grumpy father. They ran a good inn." Risto sat back in disappointment at the end of the story.

  Gregos stifled a yawn. He was not interested in peasants of no account. "Tell me more of this Tostig. He was one of King Harold's brothers, so it was brother against brother in that battle."

  "All that I know about Tostig is from Hereward. He was an earl who was a skilled warrior but a terrible lord. Though the other English earls hated the Normans and had long feared the Norman influence on Edward the Confessor, Tostig admired the Norman ways. He was more like Duke William than like King Harold.

  Harold's other brothers were all Earls in the South. When Tostig became the Earl of Northumbria, he was so greedy that the manor lords revolted and toppled him, and he was exiled. He took with him men and ships enough to remain powerful and picked up more men and ships from his wife's father in Flanders. Then he sailed to Normandy to find service with Duke William." There was a brief pause while Raynar drank some ale. He continued.

  "At the time, Duke William's petition to be made King of the English had been refused in favour of Harold Godwinson, so the vengeful brother Tostig was a dream come true. Tostig carried William's offers to all the rulers of Knut’s old empire to get their support for him to invade England and capture the throne. About the time that the Hairy Star was first seen in the sky, Tostig and his ships crossed the Manche from Normandy to the Isle of Wight carrying William's offer to the South West lords, who were all related to Tostig.

  His brother Leofwine, who was the Earl of Kent rallied the Fyrd against Tostig, so he left. He then sailed to East Anglia to make William's offer to those lords, but that earl, his other brother Gryth, rallied the Fyrd and drove him off. He then sailed to the Humber with William's offer to the Yorkshire lords, and Morcar drove him off. He then sailed with offers to King Malcolm of Scotland, and to his cousin King Sweyn of Denmark, and finally to King Harald of Norway.

  Tostig was the traitor who set up the ruination of England. And he did it out of spite for his three brother earls and especially his brother Harold."

  "And did Tostig again escape to his boats from Stamford?" asked Gregos.

  "No, he died at Stamford. A lot of warriors died at Stamford. More died in that battle than any where else in that bloody year, the year of the Hairy Star. The day after the Norse surrendered, King Harold got word that the Normans had landed in the south, and he took the best warriors and all the horses and raced back to London.

  The Northern army was delayed in Yorkshire to clean up the mess, and care for the wounded and the prisoners. They also had to track down the Norse that escaped, and to stop the foragers that still did not know that the battle was lost.

  It was a bloody time. The Yorkshire Danes took blood vengeance and slaughtered every Norse they could find. The last of the Norse fit in a tenth of the ships they had brought, and they had to winter in the Orkney Islands on their way home. It was the end of the glorious era of the Viking." A soft soft buzzing sound caught Raynar's ear, and he glanced over to see that Risto had taken a seat, and was now softly snoring with his head against a tree trunk. He looked at Gregos, who nodded for him to continue his story,

  "So, then, even though Harold had raced to the south, the Northern nobles were well behind him. I stayed with the Abbey's carts, but now they were pulled by oxen because Harold had taken all the horses. It was a slow march south for us, but the Northern nobles were not worried.

  They had always considered Harald of Norway a more serious threat than William of Normandy. He had been a Byzantine general, after all. Meanwhile everyone derided the Normans as weaklings and cowards because they thought themselves too important to stand in a shield wall.

  No, the northern nobles were in no hurry. They had not only defeated the Norse, but had done it so completely that Norse ships would be of no help to William. Besides, everyone knew that the Normans had been wasting their wealth and their food and their boats and months of effort, just to move their coursers across the Manche. They were viewed as too foolish to be feared."

  "Ah," replied Gregos, "but they weren't foolish, were they?"

  "They were fools to be trying to ship so many huge horses at once. Dangerous fools. Duke William had collected a huge army around him, and if he had not been able to cross with his horses, he would have been looking around for other victims on the continent. Baldwin, Count of Flanders was so concerned that he sent all his ships to help William cross, hoping to get rid of William and his Norman devils forever."

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  THE HOODSMAN - Killing Kings by Skye Smith

  Chapter 23 - Riding to the Travelers Domus, London in August 1100

  Raynar stopped talking when he saw a groom bringing their ponies to them. Now that they were rested and fed the ponies were willing to continue. Hours later, Raynar was praising the ponies and how quickly their smooth quick-step pace gobbled up the miles without overly tiring the ponies. They had just traveled twenty miles in less than four hours.

  Gregos also surprised him. Once he was mounted, he stopped complaining about his back and did not slow them down at all. At one point he rode beside Raynar and told him that he was sure he could make it all the way to London tonight, and that he was looking forward to the coronation.

  The ponies forced them to stop every four hours for a half-hour break. They seemed to know all the best places to stop, not only for water and grazing for them, but for pies and ale for their passengers. By the time they reached the fortified gate at London Bridge, it was two in the morning and it was Raynar who was dragging behind the rest.

  He woke himself up to bargain the bribe that would pass them through the gates to the bridge at this late hour. The guards were doing quite well from their bribes tonight, because Londoners were out celebrating the death of a tyrant king, or officially, the health of the new king.

  The market streets on the London side of the bridge were rollicking with revelers, but the watch was gaining the upper hand in convincing all the revelers that it was time to go home. Once the ponies were past those streets, most of the rest of London seem very quiet.

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  When Raynar knocked on a heavy gate halfway along Temple Lane, a shutter on the small door beside the gate opened and a face peered out. At this time of night they were the only people on this narrow straight street that ran inland from the banks of the River T
hames.

  "Oh, it is Master Raynar. Do you need the gate sire, or will the door do?" asked the young watchman.

  "The door will do but our ponies will have to be taken around to the stable. Is anyone still awake?" asked Raynar.

  "Everyone is still awake. All of Holborn is celebrating on this night. Only Master Wyl is here, but he is awake. Oh, here he comes now."

  "Raynar!" An older man limped towards them across the paving stones of the courtyard.

  "Wyl!" The men grabbed each other and looked deep into each other's eyes. Raynar danced him away from the doorway so the others could come in off the street. "Wyl, this is Master Gregos of Cordoba in Al-Andalus, and his aid, Risto. Do you have rooms for them for a few days?"

  Wyl clasped each man by the forearm. "Welcome to London, you must be tired and thirsty." He made a wave to the watchman who disappeared with their packs into a lamplit doorway.

  "There is your private room, of course, but the guest rooms are full for the duration of the Coronation. How would it be if they shared your room, and I will have a bed made up for you in my quarters?" asked Wyl.

  Raynar lowered his voice to a whisper. "I was hoping you would say that. We have much to discuss tonight, and in private."

  Wyl limped to a doorway and they heard only the first of his orders as he disappeared into the room beyond, which was, "Bring a candle so that master Raynar can unseal his room."

  Gregos raised an eye in question.

  "When I last left here," replied Raynar, "I locked the door of my private room and then filled the lock with sealing wax and marked it with my seal. It is the complete privacy and security of the private rooms that make them worth the annual fee. My shelves and my chests will be just as I left them six months ago."

  They walked down a portico and through an archway into a courtyard garden, lit with lamps. The noise of London receded behind them. Risto uttered an 'ahh 'of familiarity at the courtyard-based architecture. "It is like home." They walked a diagonal path across the garden and around the reflection pool in the center and then another path and up two steps to another covered portico.

  In front of a heavy door a young man was waiting with a candle and a bulky load of bedding. He handed the candle and a key to Raynar and waited while Raynar checked his seal and then melted the wax out of the lock so he could use the key.

  The door swung open to a spacious room with two beds, stools and a table, a wall of shelves, and a corner stacked with chests. The youngster requested that they stay outside while he cleaned the room and made up the beds. The portico had comfortable places to sit and watch the garden, so it was a pleasant wait, although Gregos had to be woken when the cleaning was finished.

  "I was hoping for a saucy maid with big melons," grinned Risto as the young man came out for his broom.

  "The land lease has a covenant the forbids women to enter the grounds," replied Raynar.

  When the room was ready, the young man showed the guests to the common conveniences and to the common bath house. Meanwhile, food and drink had arrived at their room.

  They decided to eat and then bathe and then sleep. While munching through his meal of goose breast and boiled root crops, Gregos said, "I see now what you meant when you described this inn as being like a Mediterranean convent, but not quite. This is very comfortable, and it was a relief to leave the smells and sounds of the street."

  "You are welcome to my room and all that it contains, save for that which is locked in the chests. I will say good night now. I will be in Wyl's quarters if you have need of me."

  "Would it be possible to send a message to my Ambassador, if not now, then at first light?"

  "Of course. Write it now, and address it and hand it to any of the orderlies. You will find a writing box with quills, ink and paper in my room."

  Gregos held him for a moment longer. "Despite how weary I am, I do not wish to sleep long and miss the coronation. Please have them wake us to break our fast. Umm, by the way. In English, the name 'Wyl', what is it shortened from?"

  "From William if you are Norman. From Wylie if you are English, " replied Raynar.

  "I thought as much. Goodnight, and thank you."

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  In Wyl's quarters the second bed was made up. It was quarters, not a room. It included a room like Raynar’s, plus the counting room of the business, as well as a private bathing room. After a scrub to clean off the worst of the road, he stretched out on the fresh clean bed linen and relaxed. The revelers were arriving back from Westminster, and their happy noise kept him awake.

  He heard Wyl's voice from outside the door and then the door opened and Wyl came in and saw that he was not asleep. "Now that the guests are all safe and accounted for, I can retire." Wyl passed him a chalice of spiced red wine. "Was it your foreign guests you wished to talk to me of in private?"

  "No, but since you mentioned them, you should be aware that they are more than what they seem. Gregos is a merchant from Al-Andalus who is much, much more important than his English clothes reveal, and Risto is his bodyguard and a skilled swordsman. They are both well-respected in Cordoba, and they are here by order of the Caliph, supposedly to find breeding stock to mate with their Merino sheep."

  Raynar sipped the wine and yawned into the chalice. He caught Wyl's eye. "We must get word out to the brotherhood. They must stay silent and out of mind. Those who are watched must drop out of sight. Rufus was killed by a hoodsman and King Henry knows it, though he will never admit to it."

  "Did Rufus suffer?" asked Wyl, and when Raynar shook his head, "No? A pity." Wyl raised his chalice in a salute to his friend and smiled.

  "There is more. Henry spoke of a plan to recruit hoodsmen for battles on England's borders and on Normandy's borders. If they kill for him, he wins. If they die for him, he wins. Those words must reach the brotherhood."

  "Henry was there too, with Rufus? What was the matter, did you take only one arrow with you?" Wyl smiled again. "Aren't you too old now to be still killing kings?"

  Raynar winced and then laughed. "Besides me, you are the only man alive who knows how many."

  "Even I am not sure. You traveled for a long time without me and through kingdoms I have only heard of." Wyl frowned. "There is sad news. Prior Tucker has died. A Norman will replace him at Repton."

  "That is not so sad. Tucker lived long and ate well. He always modeled himself after the saints. Perhaps they will make him one." Raynar crossed himself in Christian style and said a silent prayer for his old friend.

  "With a Norman Prior, we may lose the lease for the Domus. There are Norman knights who covet this business and would run it for themselves." Wyl lay down on his bed and rolled onto his side to face his friend.

  "That does not worry me. The covenant that excludes women will keep them from making trouble for us. What knight would not stay in a an Inn where there were no maidens to debauch?"

  "What about a Norman monastic order?" wondered Wyl.

  "Here, in Temple, surrounded by the sins of Holborn? Not a chance. We were able to gain the lease because no monastic order wanted it. It would only be of interest to a monastic order of celibate knights. Impossible. Monks who kill. Knights who are celibate. Impossible, in our lifetime and the next. Stop worrying and pray to Saint Tucker to protect our home, here in Temple."

  Raynar yawned and lay his head back. "I saw John and Mar in Winchester. They are prosperous and happy. My heart swells for them both. Their son is thin but as tall as John and looks like the John I first met. Mar sends you a kiss and a hug. John says not to let him catch you kissing and hugging his woman." He paused. "Her breasts are still firm, and her smile still makes my heart pound in my chest."

  "Bah, she chose well. She carried John's child, not yours. Too bad you will die before John, for eventually you would surely get both her and the business, and spend your elder years with a smile on your face. However, there is absolutely no chance of you outliving John, if you keep doing the dirty work that should be done by the younger hood
smen."

  "The younger generation. I have given up on them. They have no respect. They don't understand. They are too busy chasing ale and women." Raynar's voice drifted off.

  Wyl left him to sleep and bundling up his linen, went to make a bed for himself on the couch in the portico. His sleep would be interrupted all night long because of the celebrations. It was pointless to have Raynar's sleep interrupted as well.

  THE END of Killing Kings

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  The Hoodsman - Killing Kings by Skye Smith Copyright 2010-13 Revision 4

  Be sure to watch for the next in the series: The Hoodsman - Hunting Kings