by Smith, Skye
"Bishop, has Eadulf told you all? We caught Gilbert with the blood of Ligulf and his kin still on his hands."
"I will take him back to Durham with me,” said Walcher dismissively, "and will call together a court of peers to try him."
"Nay, bishop,” replied Raynar. "Look around you. There are a thousand folk here now, and they all came to see one thing. Gilbert strung up. The man is a dead man, he just doesn't know it yet. If you try to leave with him, you will die too."
"He is my kin,” Walcher replied with a voice of command. "He will be tried by other knights and nobles."
"Think carefully my lord,” said Raynar in a quieter but urgent voice. "For weeks now Ligulf was helping me to distribute ewes and seed corn to the farmers here about. The man was well loved for it. His killer will not leave Gateshead, no matter what you want for him. If you must try him at court, then convene it here and now. There are many witnesses present, good men and true. Hang him quickly and mercifully and be done with it."
"I have a hundred soldiers with me,” replied Walcher, "they are professionals, Normans and French Boulonnais, and well armed. This rabble will scatter before them. I will take Gilbert with me."
"Don't be a fool, Walcher,” Raynar sighed in exasperation at the mans lack of sense. "You do that and the whole of Northumbria will rise. Not a half mile from here is a camp of dispossessed Daneglish axemen who are looking for any excuse to kill Normans. They will sweep through to Dun Holm killing every Norman they find."
"My mind is made up. Gilbert is my kin. I will take him from here. Eadulf, tell the English to back away from the church or my men may hurt them. I am taking Gilbert to Dun Holm."
Eadulf was about to call out the order, but then he saw a look in Raynar's eyes that chilled him to the bone and so he said nothing.
"Bishop,” hissed Raynar, "if your men hurt any of these innocent people to save that devil kin of yours, then I will defend the folk. Be warned, Bishop. I will personally guarantee you safe passage back to Dun Holm, but only after you pass sentence on that murderer Gilbert."
The bishop-prince could stand no more of this impertinence. He stood up and yelled to the men in the church. "Gilbert, it is Walcher calling to you. Come out of the church. My garrison will protect you. We are going to Dun Holm, now, Gilbert, come out now."
The church door opened and Gilbert and his priest Leobwin and a dozen others came forth. The crowd hissed and some lads near to the door threw stones at them. The crowd pushed forward. Raynar gave a long whistle and held his bow high in the air so that the crew of the Anske, everyone a hoodsman skirmisher, would look towards him. Then he held up his free hand and made a series of hand signals.
The angry crowd was now close enough to the Bishop's garrison that some of the garrison lost their nerve and struck out with their swords. A lad went down, and the mercenary that had knocked him down then hacked at him with his sword. Raynar's arrow hit the mercenary in the arm and he dropped to the ground in agony, and then a dozen other mercenaries were also wounded by arrows. At the sight of men dropping to arrows, the crowd ducked and backed away from the church.
The bishop grabbed at Raynar's arm "What have you done. You shot my men."
Raynar tried to answer but the noise of the mob was drowning him out. The mob, now knowing that the bowmen were on their side, were yelling for blood, and if not of the knight, then of his master the bishop. Each bowman was confronted by some of the mob chanting, "slay ye the bishop".
Raynar had moved closer to Walcher so he could be heard. "We shot to wound, not to kill. I gave you fair warning, bishop. Your men are no match for my arrows. Tell them all to get into the church until we can get the temper of this crowd cooled."
The bishop looked around at the mob, and stood straight and proud, as if ready to make some other stupid decision. Instead he yelled at his garrison to escort him to the church.
While the Normans were forming a phalanx around the bishop, Raynar called out, "Well done, bishop. Now, call together a court and the witnesses, and let us see justice done."
"Justice,” yelled the bishop as he walked towards the church. "Justice, I will show you justice. I will not hang Gilbert, I shall hang your bowmen for shooting my men."
"Don't be a fool,” Raynar called after him. "Only you can bring this to a peaceful end. Condemn Sir Gilbert for the vicious murder of women and children, and hang him so the mob will go home."
The bishop ignored his words and marched into the church to join his men.
"Now what,” asked Gregor.
"I suppose we wait.” Raynar said, and Eadulf nodded, "I want Gilbert to be hung by the law, so that the cycle of feuding and blood vengeance will be broken. There are over a hundred men in that church. All of them will be very thirsty very soon. Once they have thick tongues, we will talk."
* * * * *
About two hours passed before the door of the church opened. Raynar was nudged from his doze by Eadulf but when he looked around he did not see the bishop emerge, but instead a black crow priest Leobwin. The priest marched forward with a wooden cross held high and told the folk to leave holy ground or face damnation.
He was immediately dragged down by two locals who began beating him in the face. The two closest bowmen ran forwards and pulled the men off the crow, but then one of the men yelled out to the mob. "You all know me. You all knew my ma. She was midwife to this village for thirty years. Half of you were brought into this world by her. This man burned her alive as a witch. I claim him. He is mine. Everyone gather wood. He will burn like she did."
"Bugger,” moaned Gregor, "now we have a problem. Now it starts."
Men in the mob pulled down a sorry stable roof and quickly built a pyre, and then lit it. There was no stopping the mob from vengeance against this black priest. A hundred hands threw wood on the fire and when it was roaring, they picked up the priest, screaming and kicking, and threw him on the fire too.
The air filled with the screams of terror, then anguish, then agony, and then silence, and was replace by the stench of sizzling fat and burned meat. Raynar and Gregor ran as quickly as they could to gather their men and have them stand between the mob at the pyre and the church, but they were too late. Almost as one the mob had the same idea. They'd burned the priest, why not his church too. Almost immediately there were burning faggots arching towards the ancient church's roof.
The roof caught fire quickly and spread up to the peak. Within minutes they could hear the sounds of panic from the men inside the church, and then the main doors opened and men raced out with their swords swinging as if to cut through the thick smoke.
The crowd surged forward to push them back into the church. Those that did not go were hacked to pieces with forest axes. The church roof was now burning furiously and Gregor and Raynar were running through the crowd telling everyone to get well back before the roof caved in. Eventually their warning words were heeded and the folk realized the danger they were in and began running away from the church in every direction, with the bowmen and highlanders sweeping behind them hurrying them along, and picking up any women or children that had been pushed down in the rush.
Raynar leaped over the low wall to where he had been snoozing earlier and ducked low. "Get down, get down behind cover,” he yelled out over and over.
"Flatten on the ground. Hide behind buildings. Keep running.” came the yells of his men to the women and children at the other end of the square. Most of his men had seen a large roof burn before. They knew exactly what to expect next.
And then it happened. The burning roof fell into the church and there was a horrendous whumpf and the air around the church became too hot to breath, and shards of glass and timbers and burning debris shot out from the windows and doors of the church. The clothes of a lad who had been running across the square towards Raynar suddenly ignited in flame, and he ran faster in his panic and fanned the flames. Fortunately Raynar's second was able to trip the lad and then smothered the flames with his seaman's cloak.
All around him there were people looking up from the ground where that had been protecting their faces with their arms. There was a look of shock and awe on all the faces, and an eerie silence. The silence lasted but a moment and then the crying began. Children were crying, women were crying, grown men were crying. Women were calling out for their children, men for their wives.
Raynar wanted nothing more than to rest at that moment, but that could not be. Eadulf was raising the alarm. "Fire, Fire, save the town. Save the roofs.” The burning debris had begun a hundred small fires around the church. Men began running towards the new fires to put them out before they could spread. They grabbed rakes and pulled any burning sections of roofs roof down to the ground and stomped them out.
It took four hours, but they saved the town from the fate of the church. By that time everyone was black with soot, had burn holes in their clothes, and were so tired that most just collapsed under the closest roof and fell asleep wrapped in their cloaks.
* * * * *
The next morning Raynar was late to a meeting with Gatehead's ealders. Eadulf, Gregor, and Malcolm's man in command of the Exiles camped by the bridge were all there early and were excited by the outcome.
"We are agreed that we march on Dun Holm and take the bailey and finish the rest of the garrison there” said Eadulf to him. "Do you join us?"
"No."
"No, why not? There is little risk and Walcher's treasure to gain. We need your bowmen to clear the walls for us."
"I was in Dun Holm in the winter of '69 with Bishop Aethelwine when Robert de Comines and his men were slaughtered and burned in the bishop's house. What came next was the Great Harrowing. Yesterday you burned a Norman bishop prince in his church. He was Odo's man. Odo will bring an army to Dun Holm. He has no choice, for he must hold Dun Holm to hold the border with the Scots.
It will be a Norman professional army. You are not an army. Odo knows there will be no army here, just irregulars who will fight him from places of hiding where he cannot use his cavalry. There will be little warrior against warrior fighting. He won't waste his cavalry chasing into ambushes. He will march into Dun Holm and none of you can stop that."
"He will be too late, brother,” laughed Gregor, "I will already be spending Walcher's gold in the markets of Scotland.” The leaders all laughed at the prospect of easy gold. All but Eadulf.
"Shhh,” Edulf hissed. "There is more to this. Let Raynar speak."
"Odo will not come to fight another army, for he will know there isn't one unless Malcolm takes to the field. The Normans use massive vengeance as a political tool. Odo's army will spread out across the land. They will not stay long enough in each village to search for those that hide. They will simply burn the crops, and kill the animals, and take the metal, and burn every roof, and then move on to the next village. They will let the winter will kill the folk who are hiding from them."
The laughter stopped, for what had been described was indeed another Harrowing. These men still had nightmares of the first harrowing. Their families and farms had still not recovered after almost ten years. Only Gregor was still smiling. He was a highlander. His clan had never been harrowed, and had profited ever since on the lawlessness and misfortunes of those who had been harrowed.
"So, Odo is coming,” Gregor spoke in a loud voice. "Whether we kill more Normans and take their treasure, or not, Odo will still come. This doesn't change our plans for this week. It simply changes our plans for next month. First we grab the treasure, and then we tell all the folk to run and hide, and hide enough food for the winter. Brother, I ask again, do you come with us."
"No,” said Raynar suddenly depressed. He had just spent months making it so the farms here abouts would have the wherewithal to have good crops this year. The fates were laughing at his good works. Those crops would likely never be harvested. "I am for Dunfermline. The only chance for the folk of Dun Holm is if Malcolm marches south and scares Odo away, or at least scares him into being peaceful. Eadulf will give my share of the treasure to Ligulf's kin, agreed."
Eadulf looked around at the other leaders. They nodded. "Agreed,” he confirmed.
* * * * *
* * * * *
The Hoodsman - Queens and Widows by Skye Smith
Chapter 20 - A new baby girl in Dunfermline, Scotland in May 1080
"Margaron, speak to him. Make him understand.” pleaded Raynar as he cuddled the tiny girl in his arms. "Has she a name yet? Please not Matilda. Every girl child in France and England is being named Matilda."
"Aedyth” Margaret replied, "so I suppose Edith in English. I do not need to speak with Malcolm. He fully understands. His way of making decisions it to delay a commitment until he knows what everyone else is about."
"But it takes time to gather and move armies. Odo will bring mostly cavalry and they will be on the march already.” Raynar handed the new baby back to Margaron for she had dropped one of the shoulders of her bodice and a plump breast was out and ready to suckle.
Malcolm looked up from the message he was reading. "Woman, you tempt me so with those breasts. You always look your most comely when you have a child on a breast.” He flipped the message but there was nothing on the back side.
"Raynar, you have your wish. I am sending an army to the River Tyne with orders that Odo does not cross it without first talking with me. So, the main camp will be across the bridge from Gateshead again, with other camps at each ford upstream from there, and patrols of highlanders where the river winds through the hills."
Margaret looked at her husband and said, "There must be news of import in that message for you to change your mind so quickly."
"The news is common enough. What is important is how the Conqueror and Odo must react to it.” said Malcolm and his smile grew wider.
"Don't tease us,” she scolded, "tell us the news."
"Harold of Denmark is dead. Canute is king."
"Yes, yes, yes,” Raynar was up and dancing around the table. "Oh the fates are finally shining on England. Yes. Now we can push these Normans out of the kingdom.” He looked over at Malcolm. "You are already ahead of me in my thinking. That is why you are sending an army to the Tyne. Odo will know this news too. When he sees your army, his nightmare will be that the Danish fleet is with you. He will retreat all the way back to Kent to make sure the Manche ports are safe for the ships from Normandy."
"Odo will indeed retreat to the Manche,” said Malcolm quietly, "if for no other reason than the Conqueror now has more important business in England than he has in Normandy. He has been soundly, ugh, chastised by Philippe and Fulk in France, and has lost his influence with the Bishop of Rome. But now there is a Danish King who makes no secret that still considers England as part of Denmark at a time when the Norman forces in England have never been weaker."
"You realize, of course," Raynar said with relish, "that when Odo retreats there will be no army between here and York. The exiled Daneglish axemen now camped in Northumbria will follow you all the way to London."
"I realize,” said Malcolm slowly, "that Canute will spend the next year gaining control of all the towns and islands of Denmark. It will take perhaps another year to gather a fleet large enough to invade England. In the meantime he will be looking for a wife. A wife with a father who can cause trouble on the borders of Normandy to keep the Conqueror away from England."
"Robert of Flanders has daughters,” Raynar thought aloud. "Canute has lived in their palace. He knows them all."
"That will put the fox amongst the chickens,” giggled Margaret, "Robert's step daughter is the Queen of France, his sister is the Queen of the English, and now another daughter will be the Queen of Denmark. William will be tearing his hair out by the clump. Robert the Frisian has continuously outwitted him for a decade."
"Predicting alliances between royal families is like predicting the winter winds,” Malcolm said in a low voice. "You do not trust your ships to them. Sending my army to the Tyne is enough for now. For now they can e
nsure the safety of Northumbria and our border. They can wait there until Odo makes his move."
"Will you instruct your army to be kind to the refugees that flee Odo?” asked Raynar, and he noticed that Margaret looked up from her feeding child at the question.
Malcolm saw her look up as well. "Margaret is in charge of churches and charity. If she orders monks to march with the army, then the army will have God looking over their shoulder."
Margaret sniffed. "Your army is too fond of slaves."
"Bond slave,” defended Malcolm. "They sell themselves into a year or two of bondage to gain the supplies needed to return to their own land. That is what has been happening since the great harrowing."
"A year or two, a year or two,” Margaret turned red with anger. "The Scots that bond them are greedy weasels. The year or two always turns into five and meanwhile the same weasels take liberties with the daughters."
"Ahem,” Raynar cleared his throat. If their tempers were about to flare he wondered if he should be witnessing it. They both looked at him and took deep breaths so he tried to change the subject. "Bishop Wulfstan in Worcester, he is the last English bishop you know, well, Wulfstan is fighting slavery in the West Country with an interesting strategy."
Malcolm began to shake his head to stop him from speaking, but it was too late. Margaret wanted to hear more, so he continued. "Wulfstan is a realist. He knows that bond slavery serves a purpose though he detests it. He cannot fight bond slavery without earning the enmity of every land owner in the country, for how else would you enforce the payment of debts. He instead has been working to stop bond slavery becoming true slavery."
Malcolm tried to change the subject. "So you know Wulfstan, and he knows you?"
"He is an English bishop so he can still call out the Fyrd. When there was trouble along the River Severn a few years back, I answered his call and supplied him with enough hoodsmen to hold the river."