Hoodsman: Queens and Widows

by Smith, Skye

  "And where is Robert of Normandy?"

  "Ranulf asked him to go and parley with Launceston Castle. That is Mortain's capital, about thirty miles north of here. If it surrendered to him, fine. If not, then he was to return to fetch more of the army for a siege. Either way Robert said he would be back here before dark, to help with Mortain."

  "Mortain escaped us,” Raynar replied. "on a small fast ship, with his closest commanders. See the cog. It has at least twenty knights aboard, and about forty other warriors with them. They are right pissed with us lot, and if we allow them onto the beach they will surely make a fight of it. Go and ask Ranulf to bring most of his army here. With them on this shore those knights will surrender without a fight, and we can disarm them and tie them up without any casualties on either side."

  "Anything else?” asked the knight.

  "I could use a change of clothes,” Raynar replied, “of quality enough to make me look like a prince. Listen, Ranulf himself won't be needed just to march the army here. If he is above us, then send him and his guard down to help us. Our men need to rest, so they need to be relieved of their guard duties."

  "As you wish, sir, shall I go now?"

  "Yes please,” Raynar said with a smile. It was unusual for a Norman knight to be so respectful of a peasant. Perhaps it was because he was dressed as a ship's captain.

  * * * * *

  "The sea battle was amazing to watch,” Ranulf told Mark and Raynar as he walked with them to watch Raynar's ship again nose its bow into the shore. Two huge oarsmen lowered another man down into the shallows and then passed him his boots and something bulky in sacking. The man waded towards them carrying the sacking and his boots.

  "Ranulf, so how does it go?” said the man dressed like the rest of the seamen in the felted sheepskin brynja. "Oh come now. Look at my face not my clothes."

  At the mention of clothes, Raynar passed the man a wad of fine clothing that Ranulf had just handed him.

  "Henry,” Ranulf exclaimed as he began to bow.

  Raynar reached forward and pulled him back to his feet pretending that he had stumbled. "Not here, not yet,” he told Ranulf. "First let him change into more suitable clothing."

  No less than five bowmen went with Henry over to the thick stand of broom under the cliff face and stood guard while he changed from a seaman back into the King of the English.

  Ranulf had brought about fifty warriors with him. With Raynar's bowmen that made just over a hundred. There were sixty desperate warriors on the cog, so they still did not have enough to scare them into surrender. "How long until the army arrives?” asked Raynar.

  "The cavalry and the mounted skirmishers,” Ranulf pursed his lips, "as soon as an hour."

  "We will wait. There is no need for them to come down onto the beach. Just have them line the cliff edge above us so that they can be seen from the cog."

  "We saw the longship escape you,” said Ranulf without criticism. Raynar's ships had been outnumbered six to two. "I assume it carries Mortain to Normandy?"

  "Unfortunately yes,” replied Henry, now within earshot, as he walked back to them dressed with a fine tunic and a fine cloak overtop of his light and costly mail. The armour had been in the sacking that he had carried ashore.

  There was silence amongst the oarsmen on the beach, and then guffaws of laughter. This was a story for the alehouse. How they had carried the King down the coast from Portsmouth to Sutton as a shipmate, and without even knowing.

  "So I suppose that now you are here, you will want to lead us into battle?” Ranulf asked Henry.

  "My mother had me trained as a bishop so as to command men, not to fight them,” Henry replied. "Standing with my bow in a line of archers on a ship is one thing, but there is nothing to be gained by my risking being caught in hand to hand combat in the middle of a battle."

  "You could have been drowned in that sea battle."

  "Not likely, not with Raynar here as the captain,” Henry replied. "My wife, Edith's, greatest fear was that I would be assassinated on the way to Cornwall. William Mortain seems to be using assassins a lot these days, just as his uncle Odo did in his day. An army is an enemy you can see. I had no fear of Mortain's army. This seaman's ruse was to evade the assassins. Besides, it was good fun. Ask any of these lads.” He swung his arms around in an arc to point to his shipmates with the longbows.

  Henry began searching for something in his sacking. The last heavy thing. He found it and put it on his head. It was a skull cap helmet with a fur lining, and attached to it was a very visible crown made of gold leaf over thin beaten bronze. "There, now those on the cog will all know that it is time to discuss terms."

  "No terms, Henry,” Raynar said with his usual lack of respect for nobility. "Each of those knights on the cog has land and other men close to here. We cannot allow them to go free until every fortification resigns, otherwise the folk of Cornwall will be caught between a running series of battles."

  "Hmm, perhaps,” Henry replied. "Ranulf, where is my brother Robert?"

  "He was eager to be the first to Launceston Castle,” said Ranulf. "As the capital of Cornwall, it should have the best loot. He told me he would be back here before dark to claim his portion of Mortain's treasure."

  "Mortain will have taken any jewels and gold with him on the snekkja,” Raynar grimaced, "but there may still be silver on the cog. Did you say that Robert was after loot? How can he even think of looting these folk? Mortain would have looted them to fill his ship, and that after the devastation caused by the Saint Lawrence day storm. These folk will need everything they have left just to survive the winter."

  "Looting by a victorious army is not against the law,” said Ranulf thinking about the looting his army had done in Devonshire once Exeter had resigned. Henry grabbed him by the arm to hush him. Too late. Raynar's face was turning red with anger.

  "King Henry has arrived in Cornwall,” Raynar seethed. "That means that his Coronation Charter is now enacted in this shire. That means that this shire reverts to Knut's law and moot courts, and no one is above that law. You will issue orders to cease all looting, rape, injury, and murder of the non-combatants, and you will issue those orders immediately."

  Henry stepped between Raynar and Ranulf. "Be reasonable, Raynar. I don't want my men risking their lives thinking that someone is a non-combatant, while all the time it is an ambush."

  Raynar stood with his mouth open in shock at these words. He could feel his heart pumping much too hard for an old man in his mid fifties. He could feel a headache building behind the flush on his forehead. He took some deep breaths and tried to calm himself. "These folk have been hoping and praying for you to come and save them from the Mortains, just as you saved the folk of Shropshire from the Bellemes. They will run out to cheer your army on, and you are saying that the army is free to loot and maim and rape them.

  If you allow your army to loot these folk then you will get more than just a few ambushes. There are a thousand outlaws ranging in the moors, hiding from the Mortains. They are desperate men, and armed, and all with families in the villages. Once the ambushes begin, you will have to 'pacify' them through brute force. Then they will call you the Conqueror, as they called your father the Conqueror."

  The comparison to his father was like a slap in the face to Henry. It took his next words completely away. He liked Raynar, this uppity peasant, and he liked him well, but so often he found him completely exasperating. He could never decide between making the man a Bishop, or locking him in a dungeon.

  He laughed to himself at the thought of Ray being a Bishop. He wasn't even a Christian. A lot of Norman barons would feel a lot safer if he was in a dungeon. But then a lot of English bowmen would walk away from his army, and they were quickly becoming the backbone of his army. It had been the English bowmen who had forced the Norman barons to accept him as king in Alton. The barons were afraid of them, or rather, afraid of their armour piercing arrows.

  The fear of arrows was well deserved. The baro
ns had been losing men to those heavy arrows since the rebellion at Ely. The barons called the men who loosed them 'The Hood'. The English villagers called them the Hoodsmen, and there was at least one of them in every village. The first of them had been English Army skirmishers back in 1066, brothers-in-arms of the Brotherhood of the Arrow.

  His father, the Conqueror, had unintentionally strengthened the Hood by repeatedly crushing the lords of the North and the Danelaw. After his father had harrowed the village folk of the Danelaw, the ranks of the Hood had swelled and they turned into fearsome and deadly rebels. Once the rebellions were put down, they became outlaws. These days, however, it seemed like the Hood was a brotherhood of teamsters and seamen rather than a brotherhood of outlaws.

  Thinking about the Hood made him realize what Raynar was trying to tell him. It would be his own Norman barons doing the looting, and the local outlaws would be defending the villages folk. The backbone of his army, his Royal Archers, may take the side of the outlaws. If they did side with the outlaws, then he would loose a lot of his barons to arrows. As usual Raynar was right. Damn him.

  "Ranulf,” Henry began slowly, still thinking it out. "I want these words to spread out across our army, and to all of Mortain's men in all their fortresses and manors. Umm. .... ugh ... Mortain and his generals have fled to Normandy. As of today my Charter of Liberties is in effect in Cornwall. All murders and unpaid taxes prior to today, are pardoned. Any new looting, murder, rape, or other crimes committed from this day forward will be tried in a moot court by village elders based on Knut's laws. There will be no one held above this law.

  I want word to go out that I want peace in Cornwall, and I want it immediately. Any vengeance, any feud must be set aside for now, and therefore all previous wrongs must also be set aside, at least until peace has taken hold. All outlaws will be pardoned if they swear not to commit any new crimes from this day forward. However, they must present themselves to the Royal Archers to receive their pardons, and they must do this before they return to their villages."

  "Henry,” Ranulf interrupted. "there is much more to your charter than just that."

  "Yes, but then my message will become too long and complicated. This will be enough to trigger a peace, and peace is always a good start. Good point though. Have your scribes order the local clerics to copy and post my charter on all church doors, and in all local languages."

  "What about your brother Robert?” Ranulf asked. "The Duke will not abide by your charter. He has gone to Launceston specifically to loot."

  "By the time he returns,” Raynar pointed out, "Mortain's men will all be off that big cog. It is big enough to carry all of Robert's men back to Normandy. Why don't we put them on it and send them home?"

  "Just like that?” Ranulf snapped his fingers and laughed. As a boy he had grown up being kicked around by Robert of Normandy. Robert had come to visit his brother in August, but then the great storm, the horrific storm of August tenth had sunk fleets of ships, and had trapped him here in England.

  Since then, the ceaseless stormy weather had kept Robert here, and thereby kept Henry on edge, fearful of a new revolt of the barons. It would be a good thing to send Robert back to Normandy, but nothing was ever that easy with Robert. He was a stubborn man, and quick to change his mind.

  "Hmm,” Henry's keen mind caught up to Raynar's suggestion. "Are you suggesting that I make Robert fearful that Mortain will be heading for Caen to make trouble? Convince him that he need get back to Normandy as soon as possible. Offer him the big cog because it is crewed and ready to leave? Hmm. I like it. Ahh, one problem. We disabled the ship by wrecking its rudder."

  "The damage to the rudder is nothing,” replied Raynar, "Mark's crew broke the cleat that holds the chain to the rudder. My shipwrights will have that fixed in an hour, that is, once Mortain's men are off it and safely tied up."

  "Good, let's run with that plan then,” said Henry in relief. This is exactly why he couldn't lock Raynar up. He was just too bloody useful. Besides which, four of the most powerful women in the kingdom doted on this old man.

  The four were his wife Edith, her sister Mary, Ranulf's wife Lucy of Spalding, and Maud of Huntingdon. They all protected him, as he protected them. Raynar had cared for each of the women when they were just babies, for he had intimately known each of their mothers, Margaret of Scotland, Beatrice of Spalding, and Judith of Lens.

  * * * * *

  * * * * *

  The Hoodsman - Queens and Widows by Skye Smith

  Chapter 2 - Without a ship in Oudenburg, Flanders in March 1079

  When Raynar returned to Flanders from Paris in the early ‘79, there was not a ship left in Oudenburg large enough to carry Raynar across the North Sea to the Wash and the Fens in this early spring weather. They had all wintered in the ports of the Wash, where they could earn well from the coastal trade to London, which was rebuilding after the great fire.

  "It has been a very peaceful winter in Oudenburg without the seamen,” said dearest Roas, Hereward's wife, "though the merchants and whores complain constantly.” She bounced her latest baby up and down on her knee while holding his tiny hands with two fingers to balance him. "G'yup, horsy, g'yup."

  "Whose?” whispered Raynar, pointing to the bouncing baby. Hereward and Roas, though a loving couple, were also close cousins. Too close for making babies. When Roas wanted a child, they would ask a friend, a best man, to seed her womb. This was not unusual in Frisian villages. Besides, Hereward had battle injuries in secret places.

  In response to the rude question she stared at him, at this comely fair man, at this man who was once her husband, and gave him a fierce look, but then it softened, and soften some more until she was smiling again. "Count Robert was, umm, very generous,” her smile widened, "he is very experienced.”

  She looked into his eyes and thought that she saw some hurt there, or perhaps jealousy, and became defensive. "You were gone so long, what choice did we have. Actually my first choice, I mean after you, was Canute. Unfortunately he is so church proper that he scolded me for asking it of him, and then he bent on his knees and prayed for my soul."

  "Canute is still in Brugge?” asked Raynar. Prince Canute had been a good friend for a decade. A good friend to him, and a good friend to all English folk. He had been serving as Denmark's ambassador to the Court of Robert the Frisian in Flanders.

  "He has no choice. His brother King Harold is not someone Canute would trust with his life, as Harold sees Canute as a threat to his own grasp of the throne. Most of the Danish Jarls would prefer Canute as king, despite his churchly ways. If Canute had been king, he would have invaded England last year when King William was being defeated on all of the borders of Normandy. The Jarls are furious that the fleet sat idle. Or at least that is what Count Robert told me. The count would also rather that Canute be the King of the Danes."

  "When did you say Hereward would be back?” asked Raynar. Hereward ran the Flanders end of the Fens-Flanders shipping route, while a Frisian warlord, Klaes, ran the Fens end. Hereward would know if there were any available ships anywhere along this coast, even as far south as Montreuil-Sur-Mer.

  "Not for at least a week. The visit that he and the Count are making to Boulogne is not completely friendly. They have gone to tweak old Eustace's mustache, just to make sure that he and his sons stay loyal to Flanders rather than reconnect with Normandy. All three of his sons rode against William at the Battle of Gerberoi, but then I need not tell that to you. You were there."

  "I met the sons briefly, but you must realize that I was playing the part of a simple peasant bowman at Gerberoi. The sons were typical nob colts, all full of themselves. The two younger ones, the twins Godfrey and Baldwin, are trouble on the hoof. The eldest, Eustace, is not so bad, perhaps because he can actually read and write."

  A lovely young Frisian maid interrupted them. She gave Raynar a flirting glance, and bent low supposedly to whisper into Roas's ear, but actually to invite Raynar to take his pleasure in watching her c
leavage. He would not be so rude as not to look, and enjoyed the moment staring between her lovely mounds until she stood back and waited for instructions from her mistress.

  "Judith is at the gate,” said Roas, "did you not stop at her house first?” At his shaking head she tutted. "Fool. You are for it now.” She told the maid to show Judith in. "I suppose this means that you will be warming her bed tonight and not mine?"

  "You shock me woman. I thought the most decent thing would be for me to warm the bed of the widow next door.” He heard footsteps on the steps and stopped talking before he could be overheard.

  "You are most welcome, you know. This one is still on the tit.” She bounced her baby, but her smile and slow wink would have seduced a bishop.

  Judith came into the room like a ship in full sail. The fashion this year was wide skirts and thin torsos. The silk of her skirts made a long whooshing sound as she came through the doorway.

  "Judith, how well you look,” said Roas and offered her a three legged stool.

  The stool seemed a funny choice to Raynar but Judith welcomed it, and he soon saw why. With the acreage of skirts she was wearing, a stool was all she could sit on without disappearing in the volumes of silk. He wondered how she had traveled here from Brugge. Standing in a boat or a cart would seem the only choice.

  "Foolish fashion,” said Judith as if she were reading his mind. "It won't last long. Too much fabric, too expensive and too clumsy. I had mine made so that the outer skirts could be slipped on and off separately, otherwise I would have to walk everywhere instead of ride. Enough of the niceties.” She gave Raynar a hard look, "Were you planning on visiting me, or do you go from her bed to a ship."

  "Judith, this is unbecoming in you,” he said softly, trying to calm her. "I only just arrived. I am surprised that you have heard already."

  "Countess Gertrude is regent in the count's absence. We were eating together when word came of your approach, and that you took the fork to Oudenburg."