Hoodsman: Forest Law

by Smith, Skye

  "Hundreds."

  "And how many women?"

  There was no answer.

  "If a serf woman runs, like the men do, and reaches the freedom of the forest, what happens to them there?” she asked in a whisper.

  There was no answer.

  "Are they treated well? Are they housed and fed? Are they wed and protected by a husband? Do they bear healthy English babies?"

  There was no answer.

  "Or are they abused by the forest men in the same way that the Normans abuse them. Do they survive long without a good roof? Do their English babies survive in the forest? Remember what Britta told you today. Remember it always. For the serf women, there is no escape."

  They lay in each other's arms not speaking until the candle gutted and they curled together for warmth. Hours later she woke him by stroking his manhood, but Raynar subdued his own needs and made Sonja fly to the moon before he allowed himself the pleasure of her body.

  * * * * *

  Three days later Sonja's brother, the lord of the manor, returned from visiting his father Hugh in the high meadows. He gave a knowing nod to Alan and then to Raynar. He was thankful for any diversion that would shake his sisters out of their funk, even if these men were peasants.

  He had already been told of the knight's accident. So hated were the man's tolls and punishments, that the news had flown across the peaks, and down every valley. His own hatred of that particular knight was will known, as was the cause of his hatred. He was relieved that the knight's hunting companions had witnessed the accident, otherwise he would have been the first man dragged before the sheriff for 'questioning'.

  Britta looked healthier than she had looked for a year, and she was quite forward about being finally on the mend. He noticed her in the kitchen preparing an infusion with boiling water, and he asked for a drink, but she just gave him a sour look and told him it was not for drinking. Wise in the ways of sharing a roof with so many women, he dropped the subject and was just happy that she looked healthier.

  Marion had a sour face, and when he mentioned it she sniffed and pushed past him without another word.

  Sonja wore a smile that shamed the sun beams. He wondered which of the men had put it there, but then decided that he did not care, so long as it was there. Both his sisters were old enough to deserve any pleasuring they could get, even if it was from beneath their status.

  "How is old Hugh,” asked Raynar with obvious concern.

  He looked at the peasants face, and then to the faces of his two carrot topped nephews, and then the memories of this man flooded back into his brain. "Raynar,” he gripped him in a warriors greeting, "you survived. Praise Woden. I wish I had known to tell Hugh.” For many years of his childhood Raynar had tended sheep with Hugh, who had been old even then.

  "He is well?” asked Raynar.

  "Well enough to curse me for not knowing how to make sheep’s curd the way he likes it. Well enough to tell me to stick to the valley because I am too fat for the peaks."

  "So normal then,” laughed Raynar.

  "Normal but very old. If he falls again, his bones will break. I worry that he lives the summer so far from help."

  "He must have boys with him to chase the sheep.” said Raynar.

  "He does, and he curses me for not allowing my nephews to range with him in the high pastures,” He looked at Raynar with the knowledge that as a lad Raynar had been one of Hugh's shepherd boys. "I cannot allow it. There is too much to be lost or to be gained by their death or by their abduction."

  "I can think of no safer place to hide them,” Raynar replied, "than in the high meadows of Peaks Arse."

  "This day, I agree with you. With that Busli knight no longer ranging near the mines, things have changed. You speak sense. If you will stay a few days longer to keep the women safe, I will take the children to visit their grandfather. If he wants them to stay, so be it. That plan well serves everyone.” Especially Sonja, he thought.

  "Have you ever thought of going into the stable business?” Raynar asked hopefully.

  "Why would I want to go into the ..."

  Raynar walked to the wall behind the outside door, and picked up Alan's longbow and handed it to him. "John Smith is a partner in many local horse carts. Each carter has one of these welsh bows under his seat and knows how to use it against Norman knights. If you allowed John to set up a carter stable at your manor, then there would be carters through here daily. Extra eyes, extra muscle, extra help if the women need it."

  "Let me talk to the women about it. But tell me why would John and the carters agree to this?"

  "Well for many reason, not the least of which is that John and Britta care for each other. Your hamlet of Loxley is close to the highways running between Nottingham and York, while John's forge at Hathersage is far from these highways. Loxley is on the edge of the moors and ridges of the Peaks and there are shortcut paths from here to the Peaks forest, and yet it is also close to Sherwood Forest. You see, many reasons."

  * * * * *

  * * * * *

  The Hoodsman - Forest Law by Skye Smith

  Chapter 19 - A visit to London, England in August 1077

  It began as just a test drive of one of John's new carts. John began the ride with Raynar but they got only as far as the site of their new stable at Sonja's family manor in Loxley before John was dissatisfied with his new iron hubs, and they went all the way back to Hathersage to his forge.

  John then made the critical decision to move one of his forges to the stable at Sonja's family manor. That was actually quite pleasant. John and Raynar were invited to stay with the sisters while the stable was being built, the forge set up, and while John yet again changed the mix of metals and thickness of axle hubs.

  Eventually John gave up on having the inner and outer metal bands made so that they could be hammered on to any axle and into any wheel. The axle would be built and fitted with the iron bands as a unit in John's works, while the wheel irons would be made to fit the most common of wheels.

  John was quick to accept that the advantages of setting up the iron axle works in Loxley, just outside Scafeld. The small town of Scafeld straddled two main highways used by their carters, whereas Hathersage was a backwater for carters. Luckily, by following the bridle path over the ridge and through the gorge, John could reach his mother's home in Hathersage quite quickly.

  Two versions of axle irons later, after Raynar had suffered from perpetual criticism at he attempts to help John, and after the first had be scuttled as being too costly in metal, John settled on a design that worked well enough but was easy and cheap to make and to fit with existing wheels.

  The two ends of a standard axle were rounded to a specific size, and then thin iron washers were snugged onto the ends. The iron bands that the wheels would run on were then hammered onto the round ends up to the washers. The wheel bands were two rings that could be hammered into the inside and the outside of a standard wheel hub. The axle band was well greased with pork fat which John swore worked the best at high heats. The wheel was pushed on the axle, and then held in place by another thin metal washer, and an axle peg.

  John was so proud of his design that he had the sisters continuously yawning. John stayed in Loxley to set up the works that would build axles and bands at a rate of at least one cart set a day. Raynar took the cart with the newly designed axle to York, not just as a test it out, but also to locate his old hoodsman friend Wylie of the Scarlet Man Inn.

  At first the cart had screeched worse than a wooden axle, but John had told him to expect that. Eventually the imperfections in the iron were worn smooth as the inner and outer metal bands mated and then all Raynar had to remember was to pour half cooled pig fat from the evening meal into the hub.

  With the metal axle and the sprung seat and the horse, he was by far the fastest cart on the highway. He rushed passed ox carts as if they were standing still. He passed walkers with ease. He sometimes even passed pack ponies.

  He was overjoyed to
find that the Scarlet Man Inn had escaped the Norman fire that had charred half of York. He was overjoyed to find the business healthy, and that it had expanded because of the fires at other inns. Wylie and he were overjoyed to see each other again after so long of each thinking the other dead, or worse. Wylie was the skirmisher who had protected Raynar's back when he had loosed the arrow that killed King Harald of Norway back in '66.

  Wylie's eldest brother had inherited the inn now, and he was very interested in expanding his small customer stable to accommodate carters. He even agreed to be without Wylie while the youngest brother accompanied Raynar south to be shown how to set up such a stable.

  Wylie did not tell his brother that by south Raynar did not mean Nottingham. He had agreed to go with Raynar all the way to London. On their way south they stopped at Loxley. The forges in the works were fully staffed. The noise and the smells were sometimes raw, but the sisters did not complain.

  Never did they feel as safe as when John Smith was staying with them. They had even begun to shop the town markets again. Enough men were earning due to John, and enough men were humbled by the size of John, that they walked in peace amongst the throngs. If they needed something from an empty street, there was always the smiling carter close by, who would keep an eye on them.

  John asked Wylie and Raynar to wait a while in Loxley. Huntingdon was almost on the way to London and he almost had enough axle sets ready for both Huntingdon and London. Raynar did not mind waiting and Sonja was most grateful of his gentle company in her bed.

  Marion had taken up the company of Wylie, and no one was really sure if Wylie had refused Marion every time that she had offered herself to him. Like John and Raynar he was a good looking man. Unlike John and Raynar, Wylie understood women. He had three sisters, all of them incorrigible inn maids who were shocked by nothing.

  After a pleasant delay of a week, they left with a cart loaded with axles bound for Huntingdon. They received a warm welcome in Huntingdon, but not as warm as it would have been if both Judith and Beatrice had been at home, rather than in Flanders. Raynar asked some of the local hoodsman if Judith's official husband, Simon of Saint Liz, had visited yet, but the locals just snickered and would not tell any of their secrets. Fair enough. One of the vows of a hoodsman was not to boast of their deeds, all in the interest of secrecy and therefore safety.

  Two of Raynar’s ships were at Huntingdon dock. Trade was slow. With the Conqueroro taxing every spare coin from his nobles, and with the dry spring and hot summer, their sales of French wine were well down, and there were no excesses of English produce to take to Flanders. Raynar told the captains to give the crew furloughs to visit their families, which would keep them away from the dockside alehouses. He set the captains the task of finding earnings from carrying pilgrims and other passengers instead of cargo.

  In Cambridge the greedy sheriff had curbed his greed. He had been grabbing estates in his name by paying the back taxes on them, but that had now stopped. No one knew whether it was because King William had set up a commission to investigate the complaints from his nobles about the sheriffs, or whether it was because of how well protected wealthy English widows seemed to be these days.

  With the absense of Norman lords, many of the estates were being run in the English way again. The manors had reverted to being communal longhouses. The widows that held the deeds were protected by the local hoodsmen. Their half Norman children wore their hair in braids like the English and each proudly carried their seaxe, the double bladed Saxon dagger that was almost as long as a short sword.

  The wealthy widows were twice widowed. Once when the Normans first invaded and murdered their English husbands after which they were wed by rape to a Norman replacement. The second time when the wolfpacks ranged from Ely and Huntingdon and enormous numbers of Norman males suffered fatal accidents. None of the widows had registered the deaths of their Norman husbands with the courts, for that would have made them the betrothal targets of other greedy Norman knights. None of the widows relished the thought of being raped into yet another marriage, and then thrice widowed by the hand of some local hoodsman.

  As they closed on London from the north, Raynar noted that even in areas where his wolfpacks had not ranged, there seemed to be many 'twice widowed' English women running the manors. When he asked about this in the markets, most shook their head as if he were simpleton to be questioning such a good thing. Eventually he learned that the new 'twice widowed' were due to the disastrous year that William's army had endured in France. At this, Wylie encouraged Raynar to fill the long days on the cart with stories of fighting in France and the burning of the barges of the Seine.

  * * * * *

  "There it is, the big smoke,” Wylie said once they crested a rise in the highway and saw the dome of smoke that marked London. Smoke from countless cooking fires. "Bloody hot today. Look how brown these fields are. Looks like they've had no rain down here either.” He spoke through his scarf. Both men wore scarves across mouth and nose to keep the choking dust out of their throats.

  Raynar grumbled. Despite the cart having one of John's sprung seats, his back still ached. He had been sitting on this bloody cart seat for almost a month.

  London tended to shock everyone the first time they saw it. The first thing you saw was the dome of smoke. The next was the crowded country streets, with lines of carts feeding supplies into the city. The next thing was the smell, for the city was ringed with middens and waste dumps. These malodorous places in this hot dry summer had created a belt of greenery around the dung colored center where the city was.

  Next was the tent city outside the walls. London was booming and labourers could no longer afford the rent within the walls so they live outside the walls under rags spread by sticks. Next there was a ring of thatch villages that were probably as old as London but were slowly being swallowed by the spread of the city. Finally there was the wall and the gates.

  After arguing and bribing their way through the gates, they found themselves in such narrow and crowded streets that the cart could not move. "Stupid wights,” yelled the urchins at them, "you'll never move a cart on these streets. Wait with the other carts outside the walls and hire barrow men to deliver the load."

  An hour for the progress of two hundred yards was repeated again after they had turned about to return to the gate. It was only after they joined the other carters that they were told that the Temple stable was outside the walls in Holborn, a village up the Thames river from the walls. By this time the two northerners had had quite enough of London.

  "Why do they live here?” asked Raynar who had just spent the winter in Paris, which was simply a village of nobs on a fortified island, with two other villages, one on each side of the Seine facing the island. "I thought John was just being John when he said that there was nothing wrong with London that a good fire wouldn't cure."

  "Don't wish that on them,” said Wylie, "look at the thatch, it is like tinder. It was thatch like that which cause the fires to spread so quickly across York. "There it is. See the stone columns. There is a stable amongst them."

  Much had to squint through the yellow haze to see them clearly. "Oye, it's Raynar, men, it's the cap'n” he yelled out and came striding towards them. "So that is one of the new carts, eh?"

  Wylie jumped down and grabbed at the horse to calm her. She had been skittish ever since the gates. "I'm Wylie, you must be Much", they gripped each others arms. "The cart is not new, just the axle. We brought you a dozen axles. It takes about a half a day to replace an existing axle."

  "How does she work?” Much and the rest of the carters that had gathered around now ducked under the cart to check the axle. "How far have you just come in this?"

  "Scafeld via Huntingdon but with a light load. Just axles.” There was a tapping from below as one of the carters used his knife to locate the metal parts. A yell came from beneath. "What weight of iron?"

  "Same as a broad sword, but simply caste. It cures and hardens with use so you don'
t have to hammer it.” replied Raynar.

  "Bloody John's a miracle.” said the voice from underneath.

  "That's what the widows all tell me,” said Much. "Speed?"

  "Faster than a pack pony, but again, we had a light load."

  "Track?” asked Much.

  "Standard. Four and a half."

  "Wheel?” asked Much.

  "Standard,” he held up some metal bands to show Much, "you must use one of John's axles, but then you can use any wheel just by pounding these two steel bands into each side of the hub."

  "Come,” offered Much, "after the journey you've made, you deserve a cool bed. You'll be put up at the monastery across the temple grounds over there. It's mostly deserted now, but because it has a tile roof, it stays cool on these hot days. Only problem is that they have a rule about women."

  "What's the rule?” asked Wylie.

  "Females are forbidden on the grounds. That is why most of the carters usually sleep under their carts here in the stables. In this heat though there is no cooling in the night, and if it does get cooler, the smoke from the day's fires drops down with the cool air and chokes you."

  "I cannot believe they allow fires,” said Wylie, "I watched York burn back in '68. The only thing that saved half the city was an early start to the winter rains. It wasn't this hot, and the thatch wasn't this dry.” He reached up to the stable roof, and crumbled the straw into dust between his fingers.

  "The Frenchies have ordered there be no fires after sunset. Their word for the rule sounds like curr few.” said one of the carters. "Bloody language doesn't make sense. You'd think by now they would 'ave learned the tongue we all share in common. Especially in this city where there are so many Daneglish."

  "Well they will switch soon enough, they'll have to,” said Much.

  "Much, my back aches,” said Raynar, "where is my bed?"