by Smith, Skye
The old shipwright grabbed Raynar's arm and dragged him away from Judith. "We barely made it lad,” he said quietly. "The mistake was mine. Another league of rough weather would have finished us.” He pointed to one of the wrist pins that attached one of the large spars to the false mast. "I used a wooden pin. The twisting and torquing has splintered it. I'm sorry lad, I should have used an iron pin, a well greased iron pin. When the two hulls writhe on different waves, the pin works more like an axle than a fastener."
Raynar looked down at the pin. The splintering had nearly sheared it through. "Don't blame yourself,” he said softly, "See, the lashings have held. Even if the pin had failed we would have still made land."
"It's kind of you to say so, lad, and we will leave it at that, but this ship will not sail again until I have fitted it with iron pins. I will say this freely to Klaes, but there is no need to worry the rest of the crew with my words."
Raynar patted the old shipwright’s back. He would not steal this hour of triumph from the fellow. They were here safe when there were no other ships riding these seas. His thought was interrupted by a call from the bow watch. "Plassendale towers ahead, row half speed. Prepare for docking this bugger."
The rhythm of the oars changed and Raynar made his way to the bow. The towers and the docks were filled with bowmen with nocked arrows. He turned to the oarsmen who were standing to row so they could see ahead. He laughed and yelled to his crew, "Your cousins have come to meet us. I think someone must have told them that you've been shagging their wives."
After a few more moments of searching the shore, he turned his gaze to the tower and spotted Hereward amongst the men there, so he cupped his hands and yelled, "Hereward, I am sorry I slept with your wife. Will you never forgive me?"
A yell came back across the water, but the words were lost in the sounds of the ship and the oars. The message was clear however, for the bowmen now as one were raising their bows high in the air as a salute to brother's in arms and oars. By the time the ship was secure against the dock a hundred brothers and cousins and friends were hugging each other on the docks. The gang plank was so choked that Raynar picked up the children and handed them over the gunnels to waiting arms on the dock. He then picked up Judith and shoved her over and into Hereward's waiting arms.
Hereward did not let her down to the ground but instead cradled her in his arms and turned so that his lips were inches from her ear. In a normal voice that was only audible over the raucous noise of the ship mates because he spoke into her ear, he said, "Judith, you are no longer a frightened teen. You are a woman indeed.” He was polite enough to ignore the smell of puke that clung to her clothing. He turned his head and bellowed down the dock. "A passenger cart, here and now."
Judith winced away from his bellow. She wanted to stand on the dock and make sure her children did not get lost, but wriggling just gave Hereward a more complete feel of her breasts. Finally he kissed her cheek and let her legs down so that he could hug Raynar into his other arm.
"By Woden you gave us a fright Ray,” he said while he held the three-way hug. "The tower watch sent signals that you were a Norse raider and the entire burgh is armed and on the walls. Come on then. There'll be hell to pay if I don't take you to Roas immediately.” Each of the grownups lifted a child and they made their way haltingly through a series of arm shakes and back pats and well wishes towards the cart that was now beneath the tower.
Judith looked back towards the ship with a sudden panic and gasped "But my things."
"They'll be brought to my house in Oudenburg, and without the accustomed pilferage tithe. It may take a while though, 'cause that other cart coming down the track is carrying kegs of ale."
* * * * *
Judith felt total relief. A wash and fresh clothes and some honey cakes had revived her. The children were safely in the care of Roas's women. Roas and she were sitting in an indoor kitchen warmed by the baking oven. The kitchen could be inside the house because the roof above it was tiled rather than thatched, and therefore fire proof. The tile also let the smoke slowly escape upwards, and out, though this also meant that much of the heat went with it.
Roas had once been one of Beatrice's women, and she had first met her at the same time she had first met Beatrice, back when she was a fresh bride to Waltheof. Roas was the woman who had threatened Walt with a gelding if he was not gentler with her. She smiled at the memory and at Roas.
On that same day, years ago, Raynar and John, big John, and Beatrice had all threatened Walt over his treatment of her, but it was the threat from this Frisian beauty that had shaken him and forced his respect. His fear was from the hateful hiss of how she had said the words, and the look of steel in her eyes when she spoke the words, and the glint of steel from the wicked looking eel filleting knife that she whipped out from her belt and held towards him, ready to skin him, foreskin him.
The familiar sounds of a busy household, of the kitchen, and of women's chatter were having a calming effect on her. Here she was, an Englishman's widow in exile, fleeing to a strange county and yet this household already felt like home. Well of course, it was a home. Just not hers.
"I am so happy to see Raynar playing with children, fathering your children,” sighed Roas as she pushed away the plate of honey cakes. She was gaining too much weight for one baby. "After my sister Anske was killed by those escaped prisoners, he became unhinged.
The Normans called him a wolveshead, but that was a complement compared to what he really was. He was a mad dog, and other mad dogs gathered to him. They traveled widely and killed any Norman male they found, and killed, and killed. And worse, they took no prisoners. Surrendering to them was suicide."
"I know that he has killed a few dozen of my uncle's knights, but that was in battle. You of all people must know how gentle he is with children, and with women." Judith defended her man full well knowing that at one time he had also been Roas's man.
"A few dozen? Make that a few hundred. And that only counts the knights, not their retainers. Not by his own hand perhaps, but his men, his gangs, his wolfpacks. It would have gone on without end if my own husband at the time had not been killed. Beatrice and Klaes and John shamed me out of my widow's grief and sent me to tame Raynar. Only I could do it. I was Anske's sister. I looked like her, sounded like her, smelled like her, felt like her."
"I never met Anske, but my folk often speak of her.” replied Judith. "The Christians say she is now an angel in the sky, for she was an angel in life. The Frisian men claim that she is their personal Valkyrie."
"Perhaps because I was her sister I could never see the angel in her. When I lived with Raynar I lived in fear. Not for me. For him, or rather, for the evil he was capable of. He would ride out against Normans hoping to be killed, but he refused to be killed by a Norman. He is canny in battle. They called him a wolf, but he was a fox. They didn't stand a chance against him.
Even after he had regained his mind, my own fears did not leave me. I began to fear that if the Normans killed me as they had Anske, it would derange his mind again and hundreds more would be killed in his next rampage of revenge.” Roas stopped talking. There was silence in the kitchen. Every ear had been listening. She had stopped speaking just in time. She had been about to tell this woman that Raynar had an ongoing quest to hunt and kill William the Conqueror, and with extreme violence. This woman was the niece of that same man.
The two women stared at each other, the dark eyes meeting the fair. Neither blinked. Judith finally spoke. "So you are saying that if someone harmed me, Raynar would become a wolveshead again."
"You perhaps, your daughter Maud most assuredly. Is she his?” asked Roas.
"No."
"Waltheof's?"
There was a pregnant pause before Judith replied, "No.” There was no longer any need to hide the name of Maud's true father, now that Waltheof was dead.
"Then why?” wondered Roas.
"Perhaps because she and Lucy are like sisters. He would risk all for
Lucy's sake."
"Whose is she?” Roas asked, but then again noticed the silence in the kitchen and yelled out to all the women, "Everyone out. Get some fresh air. Now. And stay away from this doorway.” When the kitchen was emptied she repeated the question. "Whose child is Maud?"
"She is Robert's” whispered Judith. Roas gave a blank stare back to her, so she explained, "Robert, the eldest son of William, Duke of Normandy, King of the English.” She could tell that Roas still did not comprehend so she added, "Robert, the son of my mother's brother.” She covered her face with her hands and wept.
"First cousins? But she looks normal, she is bright and well spoken. Does she have all her toes?"
"She is perfect,” Judith sobbed. "She always has been perfect. The midwives lied to me. They wanted to stop her from taking that first breath. I was the one who made her cry. I sat up and grabbed her away from them and made her cry out. Then the midwives had to care for her because she was born alive.” She felt Roas move up the bench towards her and take her in her arms. It was comforting to know that she was accepted in this Frisian house, despite her Norman blood.
"You are a Christian so you will not know of the Fates,” said Roas. "Our fates, our futures, are knitted together by the Wyred Sisters, demigoddesses. They are well known for their irony. This is all their work. See what they have woven. Your uncle William is Raynar's greatest enemy, and yet Raynar is the greatest protector of William's first grandchild.
They have woven that William is a bastard and has always hated being one, and yet he has turned his first grandchild into a bastard.” She hugged Judith closer. "Come, you need sleep. My women will take good care of your babies. You must rest now, for too soon the news of your arrival will reach the palace in Brugge and you will be summoned."
"Flanders and Normandy are now enemies,” Judith sighed. "Will I be welcomed or shunned?"
"Don't worry, love. Any woman on Raynar's arm will be welcomed as a daughter in the court of Robert the Frisian. Robert owes Raynar so much, and Raynar accepts so little. Besides, aren't you Judith of Lens. One side of your family is Norman, but the other side is Boulonnais, and Boulogne is switching allegiances from Normandy to Flanders."
* * * * *
Judith slept heavily in the winter bed surrounded by the warmth of linen stuffed with feathers and down. When it was barely dark, she woke to the sound of her children being laid down in the other bed. When she woke in the morning she was alone in the bed and a maid was leading her children out of the room to go and break their fast.
When she asked about Raynar the maid answered with "Oh don't you worry about Raynar my lady. Master Klaes arrived just after you went to bed and he and Hereward kept Raynar talking all the night. It was to be expected, as between the three of them they pretty well run all the trade ships that use this port."
She did a quick toilet in hopes of having breakfast with her children, and was pleased to find the three big men at the table, each with one of her children on their lap and with a large bowl of creamed oats being shared along the table. She sat down and smiled at them all. Hereward smiled back and then reached over and handed her four letters.
"The count's postal clerk keeps an office in my fortress to put and take the dispatches carried by ships. Those four were waiting for the next ship to the Wash. Raynar had one too.” Hereward gave her a wide smile. "Sorry about the delay. The weather you know."
"Eat something first, love,” whispered Raynar, "the news in them is already old. They can wait a while longer.” He pointed to his own scroll pipe, which was still sealed.
Feeling all warm and happy, she bowed her head to say thanks to the Almighty. Though she had meant for it to be a short grace, she had so much to be thankful for that she remained bowed for some time. Afterwards she sorted through her own pipes. "One is from my mother, or rather my mother's clerk, and three are from my cousin Robert.” With a tinge of guilt she added, "Since you taught me to write I have been practicing by writing to him. He is in Paris, which explains why we send them via Brugge.” She smiled sweetly at Raynar, but then saw the accusing look on the face of Roas and bowed her eyes.
Later, in their room Raynar read out his letter to her. It was from a woman friend in Scotland called Cristina who was not yet ready for him to come and fetch her away from King Malcolm's court, although she was not happy there. It sounded innocent enough, so she hoped this did not mean that he expected her to share her letters from Robert. Robert had been openly sexual in his last letter. Instead she read him the letter from her mother.
Afterwards she threw it across the room. "Be good, she says. Do what your uncle asks, she says. Remember your position, she says. Marry the old fucker, she says. She is such a bitch. She would sell her own daughter to a rapist. Twice.” She saw Raynar's startled look. "Perhaps I should read my cousin's letters alone, just in case I begin throwing things again."
Actually he was relieved that he would not have to stay in the same room with her temper. He left explaining that he had to discuss something with Klaes and that he would return in an hour. When he returned she was sitting up on the bed with her letters surrounding her, and a large smile on her lips.
"The first two letters are old. They invite me to come and stay with Robert in Paris where the court of Philippe and Bertha is filled with courtiers, young and gay.” She did not mention that Robert had asked his father, the Conqueror, for her hand in marriage, once again, and had once again been refused, which was why he was living in Paris and not Caen.
"The last letter is recent. Only a week old. Robert has taken issue with my betrothal to Simon. He is angry with his father and his mother, and has threatened not to support their current claim on Bretagne unless the betrothal is withdrawn.” She hugged the scroll to her chest and smiled widely.
"You must write to him immediately and tell him that you are here in Flanders and no longer in danger from Simon,” advised Raynar, "That knowledge could effect his strategy in dealing with his father. By the way, this afternoon we are moving into Beatrice's house in Brugge. Klaes has already left for Brugge to arrange it."
* * * * *
* * * * *
The Hoodsman - Forest Law by Skye Smith
Chapter 6 - The truth about Robert in Brugge in September 1076
Roas was more than pleased to accompany Judith to Beatrice's town house in Brugge. Oudenberg was gray, damp and boring, and besides, she knew the house staff well. She had stayed in the house many times herself. While Judith led the children in an exploration of the multistoried townhouse, which was so very different than any house she had ever known, Roas slipped out of the house by the boathouse door.
Klaes was waiting for Roas outside and escorted her to the palace. Once there, she asked to be shown to Gertrude, the Countess of Flanders, and she was not kept waiting. They had become fast friends since that day four years ago when they first met to discuss Gesa, Klaes's daughter. Gesa, though young, was a healer and a seer trained in a Frisian village in the Fens of England.
Almost immediately, Gesa had become fast friends with Gertrude's daughter Bertha. Bertha was now the Queen of France, and Gesa was with her in Paris. Though she was playing the role of a courtesan in the Parisian court, and playing it well, in truth she was Bertha's personal bodyguard.
"What is it Roas?” Gertrude asked and she waved away the need to bow or curtsey. Roas was a formidable and wise Frisian woman, and was encouraged to attend her. She so hoped that the other young women of her court would learn from her example, but it was not likely. What was it she heard one of them say just the other day. Ah yes. 'You expect me to be useful. I'm sorry, I don't do useful.'
Roas made the slightest of curtsey and then blurted out, "Judith of Lens, the Countess of Huntingdon has arrived. She will be living at Beatrice's house for a while. There are things you should know before she seeks an audience. Things about her relationship with Raynar. Things about her daughter Maud."
Gertrude held up a hand to stop Roas from speaking mo
re, then clapped her hands and twirled her finger. Every other woman scurried from the room. "Come and sit close to me, and speak quietly. The walls have ears."
Roas got only so far as mentioning that Judith had just been betrothed by King William to Simon of Saint Liz, and that Judith and Raynar had been living as man and wife for some time. Gertrude again interrupted her. She walked to an ornate wall and pulled at a tasseled chord, and then stood away from the wall. A moment later the wall swung inwards and Robert the Frisian, Count of Flanders, walked through the hidden doorway from his own office.
He was carrying a scroll and continued reading it until he stopped walking and looked up to see Roas curtseying to him. His face became quite appealing as his smile widened. "Roas, please say that you have given up on that pauper Hereward and have come to be with me instead. Say it is so."
Gertrude harrumphed and Roas blushed, but the reference to one of the richest men in Flanders as a pauper had made sure that it was taken as a jest. Gertrude looked into his office and made a signal for the clerks there to take a break, and then she closed the wall panel. Robert leaned against a table, while she pulled Roas back to the bench they had been sharing and told her to begin again.
This time Roas got so far a telling that Maud was Robert of Normandy's child before she was interrupted by the count who asked, "And you say that Judith has sent a letter to Robert in Paris telling him that she is here?” Roas nodded.
"Roas, as I recall you were once Raynar's wife, before you joined with Hereward. The two men are still like brothers, and yet you expect trouble between Raynar and Robert?” asked Gertrude.
"As you well know, Frisian men and women do trade spouses and frequently,” replied Roas. "There was good sense in my decision to take up with Hereward, and Raynar well understood it. This though, is different. Robert is no Frisian. He is a Norman noble, and therefore his bloated measure of his own worth leads him through every door. If this is handled badly, he will die."