by Smith, Skye
Fifty yards further he ran under a bent bough above the pathway, but was too busy holding the head high to signal to Raynar. No worries. Raynar would be watching him. Raynar would probably be laughing at him so hard that he will mistime the trap. The sound of hoofs was closing fast and he kept running.
Raynar saw the red mantle now. He put both of his hands on the line that was connected the end of a rugged bough that pointed directly up the pathway towards the approaching hunter. Patience, he reminded himself. You will have only one chance. Patience. Now. He pulled hard on the line and it tensed and bent the bough down and into the riders throat.
There was a scream choked off instantly. The mans neck was cradled by the fork in the bough and his own speed on the horse had pushed the middle broken branch of the fork completely through his neck. The horse ran on a while but then knew there was something very wrong by the sudden loss of saddle weight and slowed and then stopped. Raynar pulled the free end of the line to release the running knot and release the line from the bough. He then walked quickly past the waiting empty horse, while dragging a couple of branches of a broom bush behind him.
Alan hooted to him from his hiding place and Raynar dove over the stump and rolled and then crawled back to where Alan was watching between the leaves. The rack, head, and skin of the buck were already out of sight under dead leaves and boughs.
"Ah Fuck,” came a French curse of another hunter. "Look what the silly sod has gone and done to himself.” Alan needed no translation. He spoke French well enough for that.
"Bad way to die. Stupid way to die. No don't lift him off yet,” said a second voice. "I'll retrieve his horse and we can drop him down over it.” There was a sound of hoofs again. Just for a little while.
"Kind of eerie here isn't it. Do you think the buck led him this way on purpose."
"Don't be fuckin' daft. Where do you get these ideas."
"Oye, I've seen foxes set traps for dogs. My old cat used to get dogs to chase it between the wheels of carts as if it was trying to kill them."
"Hold the horse fool. I'm going to lift his legs to release his head and then let him drop."
The horse did not cooperate. She was panicked enough at the smell of death and wanted no part of a dead body falling across her saddle. She pulled sideways hard, and the dead body hit the man holding her reins and knocked him to the ground. "What the, owe, damn it. Just like the vicious bugger to hit me one more time before he was done."
It seemed like it took forever for the two men to load the body and lead the horse away. Alan and Raynar waited until they could hear nothing, and then counted slowly to a hundred before walking back to the bloodied bough. They both looked up at the gore still on the cleft.
"You're a bloody genius, Alan,” Raynar said.
"Oh yes, and if I am so smart how did I end up carrying the stag head?"
"No really. The bastard has paid, and cycle of vengeance is closed. They won't be blaming any of the porters, and they'll be gone for at least a week to Nottingham."
"Trouble is, there are damn few boughs in a forest that are strong enough, low enough, and hang over a pathway. It was only by chance that I noticed this one when we were hunting the buck."
"Yeh, but it beats my idea of putting an arrow through him and then making it look like the stag horn made the hole.” They both looked up at the cleft again and then Raynar said, "Enough done here for now. Let's be gone and talk to Sonja."
"Er, before we go, you should know that while I was watching out for them, I, ugh. Well she is still a good looking woman despite her age."
"Which one?” asked Raynar.
"They are both still good looking."
"Daft prick, which one did you prick?"
"Well, both of them. It was their doing. First one, then the other, like they were sharing me on purpose,” said Alan wistfully. "I guess it was their way of saying thanks."
"Nice, eh” Raynar said and Alan nodded. Raynar had his own fond memories of the sisters. Sonja had been his first woman when he was a young teen. She had been the older woman and she did the seducing. That was at a local river glade not far from here. Her sister Britta had been his second woman, only minutes later, and her lust was insatiable. "Yeh, they were just saying thank you. Nice of them though."
Alan increased their trail pace to a trot, which they could both keep up for hours on this soft forest pathway. Raynar tried to count back to figure the age of the sisters. Sonja would be 38 by now. That would make Britta almost 40, so Britta's daughter Marion would be turning 17 and both boys would now be 12. Ahhh, it can't be a dozen years already. Well that meant thirteen years since both sisters seduced him.
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The Hoodsman - Forest Law by Skye Smith
Chapter 18 - Visiting Sonja in Loxley, S.Yorkshire in May 1077
Alan simply walked through the front gate of the manor. "I am a known part of the household now, so I no longer use the back gate to sneak in after dark.” He held Raynar back. "Prepare for a shock when you see the boys."
Britta was the first to see the two forest men. She yelled to the house and then skipped across the yard and threw herself first into Alan's arms and then suddenly recognizing Raynar, pulled both men to her.
Marion was next out of the house and she curtseyed to Alan formally before coming close. She was a beauty like Britta had been when she was younger. Tall with long blonde braids and blue eyes that reflected the color of the May sky. She gave the stranger beside Alan a saucy look. The type that no good virgin should ever know how to give. Sonja was forewarned of their arrival and she walked straight up to Raynar and kissed him long and hard on his lips. "Come inside. It is not wise to make such a spectacle in public."
They were just about to enter the manor when two mops of red hair showed above a rain barrel at the corner of the house. Alan pointed to the red mops and said "Here come the robins of this nest,” just as two gangly lads came running from their hiding place at the corner of the building, obviously running from some mischief they had wrought. They stopped still, as if caught. Alan whistled in wonder and the three women held their hands in front of their mouths. Raynar stared at the women with a querying look.
"He doesn't see it,” said Alan.
"Of course not,” said Sonja, "he never sees himself."
Marion was suddenly aware of who this stranger was and leaped into his arms and covered his cheeks with kisses. She was very seventeen, almost a full woman but still thin of hip like a man. "Uncle Raynar, it has been forever."
The two boys looked at each other and then at the stranger. One said, "he looks just like you but without the red hair,” which was an odd thing for one of them to say because they were like twins and both had red hair. They had been born days apart to different sisters, but it was now obvious to all that they shared a father.
"Where is your brother?” asked Alan of Britta.
"With Hugh I hope. Hugh is too old for the journey but he insisted on taking the sheep to the high pastures again this year,” Britta said. "My brother rode out to make sure he was all right.” Hugh was her father, a wise man who lived like a monk in the high peaks with his sheep and who long ago rejected the world of manors and lords. "Come in, come in. It has been years Raynar, you must have a months worth of stories to share with us."
"More than a months worth,” replied Raynar, "though you have probably heard most of them from Alan already.” Sonja was still a comely woman, and Britta was too, but she stooped as if in defeat, which made her look heavier, and her eyes were heavy too, as if from too much sorrow.
"Marion, take the boys to the kitchen and fetch ale and bread,” said Alan sweetly. When the children were out of earshot, he said, "Sonja, I bring you sad news that your loving Norman knight has met with a horrible hunting accident."
"Dare I hope that he is dead and that he suffered much,” said Britta. Her eyes spoke volumes.
"He is very dead but it was instantaneous,” replied Raynar
as he stroked Britta's hair and held her hand in his.
Both women assumed that death had come on the point of an arrow. That was how the Hood vetted justice. A blackened arrow. Sonja exclaimed "They will not come here seeking you will they."
"You need know only that it was death by accident, love,” Raynar said gently to Sonja. "No fault of any man but the one who died. It is better you be told the details by others.” He could feel Britta relaxing against his shoulder and he continued to caress her hair and her neck. "Is there a story here that would ease your mind to share, Britta?"
"Yes but let us sit first. Once the ale and bread have arrived I will tell it to all, for my children should hear it as well.” They sat and when the youths all returned, they sat with them.
"Last year I was gone for a month,” said Britta "Shush Sonja, this is my story."
"You were visiting Hugh,” said Marion, "and I was angry because you did not take me."
"I was not visiting Hugh. That was a white lie told to protect you. The truth is that a knight stopped me in the street on market day. His men pulled my skirts over my head and tied them snugly there so that I was helpless and exposed. The knight then ...ugh... had me in front of witnesses and declared that I was a widow now become his wife. He locked me in his house, and covered me every day. He made me send a message to this house stating that I was married, and that the knight was claiming our other manor."
"But he cannot do that. That manor is my mother's and mine.” said Sonja's carrot headed son.
"The knight was a fool. He married the wrong sister. When he found out his error, he was furious and I was used even more badly. Eventually he threatened to make me a serf so that he could annul the marriage.” She looked at the quizzical look from the boys. "The child of a serf woman is a serf, no matter the father. It would be reason enough for a Norman priest to annul the knight's wedding oath."
"What happened?” whispered Raynar, still holding her closely to him.
"I was, ugh, forced to sign the writ of serfdom. A Norman priest was called to witness my oath and he immediately annulled the knight's wedding oath to me. That night I was cast into the serf's quarters with other unfortunate English women. That was when the true nightmare began. The knight earned well by charging the garrison to cover his serf women. I was used, horribly used. I was lucky. I was old and fat. Few wanted me. Every day I am filled with pity for the young English women who are still there in that place."
"You escaped?"
"There was no escape,” replied Britta. "Twice I ran and twice I was caught and whipped. I was lucky though, for a kindly man saw me when I was caught the second time and recognized me and came to this house and told my brother. He went to the sheriff's court and paid the serf price for me, and brought me home."
"I have not left the manor grounds since,” said Sonja, "It was me the knight wanted. Britta was taken by mistake and look what happened to her."
"I have not left this manor either,” said Britta, "The looks from the neighbour women fill me with shame. I have no desire to hear what is said of me in the markets."
Marion moved around the table and hugged her mother and then settled beside her on the other side from Raynar. "I'm sorry I have been so willful mama, I did not know."
Raynar gave Alan a hard stare. "You knew this yesterday and did not tell me?"
"I needed your cunning not your rage,” replied Alan. "Last fall I learned my lesson when I told this story to John. The next day the knight's serf-master, the man who had twice whipped Britta, was found dead. Someone had ripped his right arm right out of its socket and then had stuffed it down his throat with such massive force that it burst his lungs and his heart. I forced John to travel to Flanders and find you, before he was caught for doing such a stupid thing. John has always loved Britta."
"And I, he,” said Britta. Sonja gave her a saucy look. "I love him for his gentleness, despite his size,” Britta told her. Sonja repeated her saucy look.
Raynar covered a mocking snort with a polite cough at the thought of the gentleness it would have taken to rip a man's arm out of its socket. "Can you put us up for a few days? I feel we should stay until your brother returns. The knight's accident may change the balance of power here, which may cause other problems."
"Need you ask? Twice now you have saved me from vicious men.” said Sonja, then she thought further back, "no, it is now three times."
That night, Britta surprised the household by openly leading Alan to her bed. Sonja was not so overt and she decided to sneak Raynar into her room after the children were sleeping. She crept through the hall and opened the door of the men's room, and found Marion sitting on Raynar's bed pulling at his bed linen. He was sleeping in the nude and she had him mostly uncovered.
"Marion,” Sonja hissed at her niece, "you forget yourself."
Marion gave Sonja a dirty look, and Raynar turned over to face them both and blushed. "I thought she was you love. She tricked me in the darkness."
"And I almost had you,” Marion said, "Now she will have all the fun.” She pulled her night gown back down over her knees, and left the room. She immediately came back to the door and told Sonja "I am old enough. I should be married by now. You and my mother would have me die a virgin spinster."
Once Marion had left them, Raynar said, "I take it that Marion does not leave the manor either?"
"Only with my brother and always watched like a hawk. She will be her own undoing. She is a lusty girl."
"Like her mother?” Raynar stroked her hair, trying to calm her.
"Like her mother used to be.” said Sonja, "The month as a serf changed Britta. I do not think that Alan and she ever connect. I think he just holds her, and sometimes she milks him with her mouth."
"I know of some herbs that may help her. I will speak privately with her tomorrow."
"Ah yes, the teachings of your winsome Welsh witch,” Sonja sighed, "I am sorry, that was jealousy speaking and an evil thing to say. I wish she were here now to help my sister."
Raynar wondered how jealous Sonja would be if she ever found out about the other healer in his life, Gesa the courtesan, the most desired woman in Paris. He blocked the thought before it got him into trouble and said instead, "I wish she were here too. I am good with battle wounds and water sickness, but I am at a loss with women's problems."
"My room has a bigger bed,” Sonja hinted. Raynar followed her to it.
Marion was waiting for them in her room. "I knew it! You are too old for him,” she spat out and slammed the door as she left the room.
Sonja's recent smile had disappeared. "She doesn't understand the risks. She has the only fertile womb in this family. I fear for her future, for all our futures, if my brother meets with an accident. I fear that all of us will be forced to serfdom. I cry when I think of those young women that Britta speaks of, the ones who are pimped and whored."
"They should run away, like the men do. There are many men hereabouts who have freed themselves."
Sonja pushed him away from her. "You hoodsmen are fools. You are all fools. You think that if the men free themselves by living in the forest, that will defeat the Normans. Fools. The Normans have done this before. They have a proven method for usurping and enslaving lands and villages. Men who were once freemen make bad serfs. Brute force is required to get any work from them, and when they run it is too dangerous to chase them and to catch them back. Don't you see. The Norman method of taking control of everything has nothing to do with the men, it is all about ..."
Raynar finished her sentence, "... the women."
"... the wombs.” she completed her sentence. "To them, a woman without a productive womb is just another man. The womb is everything because under their law a child born of a serf woman is a serf, no matter the father. The child of a serf woman has never known freedom and will toil like an oxen in the field, for they know nothing else."
She lay down on her pillow and looked unseeing at the flicker of candle light on the ceiling. "In the
aftermath of the harrowing, when starving folk traded their freedom for food, the women traded their wombs for food. Every peasant woman in this shire was raped by Normans. Raped daily until they were with child. Sometimes the rape went on too long or too roughly and caused a miscarriage but eventually every woman was with child. There was a flood of births, and most had dark hair."
She sobbed. "Dark haired newborns. They were so rare in this shire before the Normans came. The midwives, as always, bowed to the wishes of the mother's family. They did not allow the dark haired ones to take a first breath."
Raynar whispered, "That has always been normal for the pregnancy of a rape, especially when there is incest. The midwife is instructed yes or no by the mother's family.” Such things were rarely spoken of, and even then in whispers.
"Those were not normal times,” sobbed Sonja, "to have nearly every baby in the shire stillborn. Once the slave masters understood, and the priests understood, they outlawed all midwives. They burned them as witches if they were caught. The Norman lords were quick to found priories and have the nuns do the birthing. Christian nuns always give a baby that first breath. It is part of their oath to the desert god. Once it cries, the baby is protected by the law, by the custom, by the church, and by the mother."
She lifted her head and looked into his eyes. "Don't you see, hoodsman. Every time a Norman sticks his cock into an English woman, he wins. Every time that woman pumps out a dark haired baby, he wins. Every time you see a child working in the fields like an ox, he wins. If you free one serf man, then you have freed one man. If you free one serf woman, you free all her children and her grand children. You have freed many."
Raynar was silent. She lifted herself onto her elbow and kissed his chest. She felt a tear fall from the corner of her eye, and she kissed the place where it dampened his skin. "How many men have you freed from serfdom?"