by Smith, Skye
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The Hoodsman - Forest Law by Skye Smith
Chapter 23 - Planning an assassination in Montreuil in September 1077
This was the second time that Raynar had stayed at the fortress of Montreuil within a month. The first time was when he stepped off the ship from London, and stayed for a day as the guest of the exiled English lords while waiting for the next ship to Oudenburg.
In Oudenburg he told good news and bad news to Hereward. The good news was that the ships from the Wash, including theirs from Oudenburg, would be allowed to dock in London. The bad news was the great fire of London, and the news that William may eventually steal England's in-common forest lands from the villagers.
Hereward had another piece of bad news. The Countess Judith of Huntingdon had been stripped of her titles, her honors, and her land by William in his anger about her turning his son Robert against him. Raynar stayed in Flanders only long enough to spend a week with Hereward and Roas to help organize the ships, and a week more spent with Judith to play with the children and to hear any news of Robert of Normandy, and any news from the court in Brugge.
This time he had arrived at the fortress of Montreuil by horse, not by ship. His ships now all had more profitable things to do than to carry passengers. Three weeks ago, on his prior short visit, he had not waited for the arrival of Fulk le Rechin, who besides being a shark with young women, was the formidable Count of Anjou and King Philippe’s favourite general. By now Fulk should be at the impregnable fortress on an inspection tour. He hoped that he had not yet left to continue his tour, otherwise he could have spent more time with Judith and her children.
Fulk was indeed still at the fortress and all the exiled English lords and the few French ones that manned the fortress for Philippe of France were hovering around him. Fulk and Ralph the Breton had earlier that year humiliated William the Conqueror, won much treasure, retaken and taken many castles, and Fulk was now looking for commanders to take control of them in the south. The English exiles in Montreuil had already proven that they would make good choices because of their unrelenting hatred of Normans.
The humble looking bowman, dusty from the road and smelling of his farm horse, was shown into the great hall filled with lords and nobles dressed in their finest and toasting Fulk again and again with the finest of French wine. Raynar, meanwhile, sat at a long table in a gloomy corner and joined the watch shift who were shoveling food into their mouths before assuming their duties on the wall. His hunger and thirst matched theirs. Half of them were English bowmen who instantly recognized their past wolveshead and prodded him for new stories of his adventures.
Raynar tried to tell them some stories, but the din in the hall was too great so he used his mouth for chewing instead.
"Fuckin' nobs,” said the bowman next to him, pointing at the head table with a chicken leg, "You'd think they burned the Seine at Rouen, and not us."
The pikeman across from him sneered, "Nobs is nobs. Doesn't matter what language they speak. They are the chosen ones, so their shit doesn't stink, and they get to claim everything that men like us earn."
"Look at them kiss that Frenchman's arse. Well at least that one has an arse deserving of a kiss. Even I will kiss the arse of anyone who humbled William the fuckin' Conqueror,” said a bowman who had finished wiping his bowl clean with a chunk of bread and was stuffing the bowl under his shirt as he stuffed the bread into his mouth. He then strung his bow ready for his watch, and took the holding strap off the arrows in his quiver.
"Well, I suppose,” Raynar said as he rose, "I should go and grovel to Fulk with the rest.” While the other bowmen were pulling their clothes tight in preparation for the cold fog they would find on the walls, Raynar walked softly across the hall, slipped between the blustering lords, and gave Fulk a gentle punch in the upper arm.
The sound of steel unsheathing rang throughout the hall. Three swords flashed towards Raynar and he stepped back out of immediate range. "Hold,” yelled Fulk to his swordsmen and hit the closest blade downward with his fist. "Fools, have you learned nothing under my pennant. Never attack a skirmisher until you know who is guarding his back.” Fulk pointed to the end of the hall where a dozen arrows had been nocked and drawn at the first flash of steel.
Instead of further scolding his men, he waved a greeting to those pointing arrows towards him, and then took the smelly peasant in front of him by the arm in a warriors greeting. The bowmen loosened their draw and then turned to file out of the hall for their duties on the wall. "Raynar, if you dressed like a lord instead of a farmer, you would not make my escort so nervous."
"A farmer does not need an escort to ride across these border lands. I have just ridden from Brugge and I was hoping you would still be here. I need a bed, and soon, so I just came close to tell you not to leave before we have spoken."
"I have a large room with two beds and two youngish women. You are welcome to visit me there."
"Tempting,” said Raynar, "but I would need sleep, a bath, and some fresh clothes before I could keep decent company with any of your fancy women.” The men around him laughed, for Fulk's hunger for women was renowned. Raynar knew Fulk better than they. Fulk was not only King Philippe's personal guard, and his general, but he was also his spy master. Men always jested about Fulk and his women, but never seemed to realize that his women were his willing spies. Spy was a much better paid profession than whore, for skills that were so similar.
"On the morrow, then,” said Fulk and gave him a knowing wink before turning back to his fawning audience.
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The knock on Fulk's door was answered by a lass who wore nothing but some bed linen wrapped around her. "It is a peasant, but a handsome one,” she called back into the room.
"Show him in,” Fulk's voice called out. As soon as the two men saw each other, Fulk clapped his hands and told the two women in the room to dress and go and fetch some food. The room smelled of sex and perfume and the two intermixed was the heady intoxication of French women. Once the two dainties had left and closed the door Fulk told him, "They are spies sent to my bed by the knight commander of this fortress. They worked hard for the little information they gained from me."
"It is information I have come for as well, but I do not have their, ugh, charm,” chuckled Raynar.
"Did you bathe?” asked Fulk, "They will be back shortly."
"I did bathe, but that was because my mare refused to carry me further unless I did so.” said Raynar calmly and waited until Fulk’s laughter abated. "Do you think they will charm me as thoroughly as they charmed you? I know no secrets worthy of their price."
Fulk began to laugh again. He did not know which was funnier. That this bowmen knew no secrets, or that the women would not pamper such a charming man in any case. He unlocked a chest, took out a scroll pipe and walked to the table where he unfurled a map. "Come, see the secrets that those ladies worked so diligently for.” He pointed to a mark on the map. "Us, here in Montreuil.” He then pointed to Paris so that Raynar could judge the scale. "Here,” he pointed again, "is Robert of Normandy at the small castle at Remalard, and here, “ again he pointed "is the fortress at Gerberoi."
"What is all this to me?” asked Raynar slyly.
"Well, you have just been refused Judith's bed yet again,” explained Fulk, "so I assumed you would be looking for her paramour, the young Robert, to finish him."
"If I searched out Robert it would be to rescue him. Judith is worried that his father prepares to capture him."
"She is wise,” replied Fulk, "or perhaps just well informed by the Count of Flanders. Yes, Robert cannot hold Remalard for much longer. The Montgomerys of Belleme only offered it to him so they could use him against his father."
"The same as Philippe is doing,” sneered Raynar.
"Ah, yes, there is that. But the Bellemes are a treacherous breed. France would be a better place if we could force them all to move to England. The Count of Perche owe
s William a favour and would love to stick that favour up a Belleme nose, so he is marching on Remalard with a siege force."
Raynar bent over the map to better visualize the significance. "Ahh, if Gerberoi can be made strong it will extend Montreuil's reach into the Vexin and towards the Seine. I thought William had agreed to cede Vexin back to Philippe as part of the Bretagne peace?"
"You are still swift to grasp ideas, I see,” replied Fulk. "William cedes nothing, ever, no matter what he says. The Vexin must be taken from him, for with it goes the control of the Seine and possibly the harbour at Rouen. In Bretagne he was only fighting to expand his empire. In the Vexin, however, he is defending his heartland."
"You say that Gerberoi is Philippe's already?"
"Well, the castellan says he is Philippe's man, but then he says the same to William,” whispered Fulk.
Raynar moved closer to the man and whispered back, "In theory all of William's Normans are Philippe's men. Is that not why Philippe wants William to make young Robert the duke?"
"Exactly the problem,” whispered Fulk, "The next fortress on my tour will be..."
"Gerberoi,” Raynar finished his statement.
"I will ensure it is for Philippe in time for young Robert to arrive,” continued Fulk, "and Robert will replace the castellan."
"Then you will replace one of questionable loyalty for another, for Robert will eventually bow to his mother Matilda's wishes, despite William and despite Philippe."
"I know of three besides myself,” whispered Fulk, "who have the desire and the skill to kill William, given the opportunity. William and I are opposing generals, and we will eagerly kill one another but we will make it a warrior's death so that it can be discussed in polite company when we are finished.
Robert is a rejected son, who would imprison William, but would wait for sickness or accident to kill him, because he could not bear the rejection of his mother. You, however, care not a feather for how polite people and the courts speak of the death, so you would creep up to William at night and slit his throat, or take him in ambush."
The men were suddenly both silent, and so they could hear sounds that could be mice in the walls, or perhaps they were ears being repositioning to hear better.
"And the last?” asked Raynar in a whisper.
"Ah, that would be our lovely Gesa. She would allow William to bull her, and it would be the best sex he will ever have had, but she would poison him before she left his bed."
"It is interesting that three of the four have been bodyguards to Philippe."
"That is because we all need Philippe to foil William,” whispered Fulk, "Perhaps I am different because I am a true friend to him. I would put my own wife in his bed to keep him safe."
In his amusement, Raynar spoke too loudly, "There are few wives that have not been in his bed. He does little to deserve Bertha's faithfulness."
There was a scratch at the door. "Go away, come back in a half hour,” yelled Fulk, not caring if it were noble or chamber maid on the other side, and then to Raynar, "we must hurry through the rest. Once young Robert is in Gerberoi and harrying the Seine again, William will move against him. I need bowmen on the walls to ensure that Robert does not surrender too easily and before I can relieve the garrison. "
"You expect William at Gerberoi?"
"I thought that would get your attention. Yes. We hope to set Norman against Norman. Because of Matilda's influence on both father and son, it could go horribly wrong. We need English bowmen that will ensure that Norman will continue to fight Norman. We hope that if there is a truce, that either Robert or William will not survive the day."
"I am your man,” replied Raynar anxious that he would be included.
"If you go, then you cannot be a wolveshead.” said Fulk, "You must not come to the notice of any of the commanders on either side. You must play the fox, hidden, waiting, not the wolf attacking in a pack."
"Let me choose the bowmen, and it will be as you say."
"Then on the morrow next we will leave for Gerberoi. You will need three shifts of bowmen for a wall that surrounds just a keep."
"Two packs then."
"As I thought. Are we agreed,” Fulk whispered.
"If I kill William, will the French protect my men?"
"If you kill William, your men will live out their lives as rich as princes."
"Then we are agreed,” confirmed Raynar.
By the time the women scratched at the door again, the maps were secured and the men were sitting relaxed and speaking in normal voices about whose wife was the best lay in the court at Paris. The women swept into the room with fine food and fine wine and morning bread and infusions. They were trained in the arts of the courtesan, and they fed the men and laughed at the right places, and smiled endlessly and urged them to prove how important they were by telling all they knew.
After he had eaten his fill, Raynar made to excuse himself, but the women would not hear of it. Before long they had him gasping with lust, and loath to leave. Fulk smiled at him warmly, and Raynar wondered who these women truly worked for. Was it for the knight commander, or was it ultimately for Fulk.
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The Hoodsman - Forest Law by Skye Smith
Chapter 24 - Waiting for William in Gerberoi all through 1078
A month later Raynar was wondering who some of the friendlier women of Gerberoi actually worked for. One comely Gerberoi widow in particular who was very popular with the knights of the fortress, would also favour him, though to her he should have been just another peasant bowman on the second shift of the wall watch.
The exchange of castellans at Gerberoi fortress had gone smoothly. When Fulk and his wolfpack escort arrived, the castellan was away being entertained in Paris by Philippe to reward him for his supposed loyalty. Count Fulk made himself the castellan until young Robert of Normandy arrived from the south with seventeen knights and their retainers and men at arms.
Fulk introduced the wolvesheads and their seconds to their new commander, and they were offered places at the evening table with the other commanders, but not Raynar. He ate in the barracks with the other bowmen, or once a week, sat at a dingy table in the hall and watched those born to a manor pretend their courtesies.
Once Fulk and his personal guard had left the fortress, Raynar's true identity was known to only the bowmen of the two wolfpacks that had come with him from Montreuil. The bowmen called him Anso rather than Raynar, and they were very good at remembering to call him that. Much better than Raynar was at remembering to answer to that name.
Week after week, month after month, Anso waited for the arrival of Robert's father, the Conqueror. Sometimes patiently, sometimes impatiently he would stare out from the high walls hoping for the first sight of an approaching army. The army of his sworn enemy. Nothing. Meanwhile his friends in Flanders thought he was in England, and his friends in England thought he was in Flanders, and no one in either place knew that he was here except for Hereward.
The world of Anso was the boredom of guarding castle walls, while the world he had left moved onward without him. The ships earned, the carts earned, the businesses expanded, more seamen learned to be bowmen, more bowmen learned to be carters. London was rebuilt, but with more stone and tile and with less thatch; and with fewer Danes and more Normans. Philippe, or rather Fulk, was fully busy with swift, indecisive battles on the southern borders with Normandy.
All France and Normandy were constantly alert for the movement of armies, and everyone's harvests were at risk. The folk of southern England were taxed and then taxed again to pay for William's losses. Meanwhile Flanders prospered under the peace of Cluny as administered by Robert the Frisian. The folk of Flanders thrived as more and more trade was exchanged on the docks and in the markets of Brugge. The folk of the English Fens thrived as the ports of the Wash served the needs of London.
Still William did not come to quell his son. Raynar was trapped in Anso's disguise, and Anso's boredom, for
he knew the Wyred sisters of the fates well enough to realize that if he ever left Gerberoi, that would be the time that William would come.
Month after month he and the two wolfpacks walked the high walls and watched the sleepy L'Arondel valley far below. It was endless nervous tedium, for each month they expected to spot an army marching over the ridges from the direction of Rouen, and yet each month was sleepier than the last.
Fulk had told him to expect this. For decades William, the Duke of Normandy, had expanded his control of the counties of France at the expense of the weakling king who had fathered Philippe. Even after the old king was dead, the Duke further expanded his control while Philippe was a child and France was ruled by a committee of regents.
Ever since the Battle of Dor, where Fulk and Ralph the Breton had chased the Norman army back into Normandy, William's control of the counties around Normandy had been crumbling. Slowly for sure, but with the support of Philippe's army led by the champion Fulk, the various counts were taking back the villages and castles that Duke William had wrung from them over the years.
With sixty bowmen on the walls protecting the steep slopes all around, Gerberoi castle was unapproachable. This allowed Robert and his knights to roam the ridges and valleys of the Vexin and force the local lords to swear to him and to Philippe, rather than to William. They even did lightening raids along the Seine to disrupt the Norman barge traffic.
Each month they expected the army in Rouen to move on Gerberoi, but each month some French count along Normandy's long and ragged border caused a more serious problem for William than did his eldest son, so at Gerberoi each new month was more peaceful than the last.
Twice in that time, Judith had come from Brugge to visit young Robert at Gerberoi for a few weeks, though she left the children with Roas both times. During these visits, Raynar could not remain in the castle for she would surely recognize him no matter how rough he looked. Instead he took a rest from the shift work of guarding the walls, and would visit the village at the end of the valley. There were always a few bowmen there on leave, and so one of the wolvesheads had rented a comfortable house in that village for the use of the bowmen.