by Smith, Skye
"You've got some explaining to do,” Raynar said as he touched his knife point to the side of the mans hood.
"Peace,” came a harsh whisper. "It is I, Henry. Call your men to ease and give me a hug so that they will treat me with some respect, but for God's sake don't pay homage. I am in disguise. Couldn't you tell?"
"Homage, not on this ship Henry. You are a stowaway. You work with the rest.” He pulled at Henry's sheepskin and underneath was the finest of mail, light and worth a fortune. "Fool, the salt will ruin that within the day. Go there,” he pointed, "under the steering deck there is a rope locker. Go in there and struggle out of that thing and hide it in sacking. If anyone sees it, they will know you are a noble."
Raynar trailed Henry to the locker and then stood in front to block anyone's view. Without help and in such a cramped space it took Henry a goodly amount of time to remove the costly armour. The whole time the twin hulled ships skipped through the waves towards Southampton. Finally the squirming in the locker stopped, and Raynar turned and spoke directly to Henry, "You'll go ashore at Southampton."
"I will not,” came Henry's muffled reply. "I stay with this ship until the River Tamara."
"Too risky. These are untried ships. These seas are heavy. Edith will skin me alive."
"Only if we survive,” came the laugh as Henry emerged from the locker. Raynar took the filled sacking from him and flipped open one of his own sea chests and threw it in.
"You don't lock your chest?” asked Henry, amazed. "You have known these men for a few days at most."
"It is a small ship with many eyes,” replied Raynar. "You only worry about theft when you are at the dock. Follow me. You can add your muscle to the steersman's."
"So you won't put me off at Southampton?” Henry asked. In answer Raynar barked some orders and the bow eased around onto a new course up the Solent. He looked over the stern until he could see Mark's ship also turn. Mark, bless his spirit, was standing spread eagled on the prow of the ship pretending to soar like a shitehawk. He gave the mate the order to spill some wind so the two ships could close. It was time to train the crews.
For the next two hours in the relative calm of the oft treacherous Solent, the two ships played in the wind and the waves. They tacked, both with and without changing sails from windward hull to leeward. The men practiced hurrying from one hull to the other to counter balance the force of the wind. They ran out the oars and got the feel of the sea suddenly giving way under the oars of the peaking hull. They ran across the waves and into the waves, and the crews and mates began to realize how forgiving this ship was, and how there were no gut wrenching surprises as there often were on normal ships in heavy seas.
Only after had tried every maneuver once, and most twice, did Raynar order the ship around to surf in front of both wind and wave. With both sails hoisted and full, and a following sea, the ship pushed its bow into the waves. Every man by now had the feel for balancing this monster, and all free men rushed to the stern of both hulls.
Before leaving the dock the one thing that he had warned Mark to watch out for, was a plunging bow. Now he said a small prayer to Freyja as Mark's ship came about. The bow plunged, but Mark was already screaming orders and men were scrambling aft. And then both ships were surfing the heavy seas. The men were all looking out over the gunnels and waving, and shrieking with joy and excitement.
"This is why I came,” said Henry. "I have heard your stories of the wondrous ship that Judith of Lens fled to Brugge in. When I heard about the ships you were building in Ferneham, I craved the adventure.” His grin, like the grins of most of the crew, was ear to ear. They caught another almost breaking wave and were swept along again. He leaped to the steering oar to add his weight to the shaft.
"How did you get to Ferneham?” Raynar yelled out almost into his ear, for the sound of the wake below them was loud.
"When my army is in the field, I surround myself with a wolfpack of skirmishers so that I can move quickly and safely and have useful scouts about me. We got only as far as Romsey, and I changed my mind about how I would reach Cornwall. Some of the men waving from the dock at Ferneham were my wolves. I was already dressed more or less like a seaman. I hopped aboard while that ship owner was making an ass of himself."
Raynar knew that Henry often rode in a wolfpack, and he knew it was not just that he had enjoyed their company when they were fighting the traitorous Belleme family. The truth was that Henry still did not trust his Norman knights not to be working for Robert, or for Belleme, or worse, for the Mortains. There was no question of the loyalty of the English bowmen, for they all hated the Norman nobility.
So fast were they surfing in front of wind and wave that they could hold the course for minutes only, before rocks and shoals were sighted and the cliffs of the shore loomed. They dropped the shoreward sail and swung hard about. In comparison, on the next tack they seemed to be inching along. Raynar gave command of the ship to the navigator, for the western end of the Solent was a maelstrom of bars and rocks, currents and eddies.
The navigator immediately turned onto a course to cross to the Isle of Wight side of the Solent where the wind would be more favourable and the swells not as high. Mark's ship was no longer following, it was abreast and racing them, as now each of the navigators was experimenting with the trim and gauging the difference in speed by the hiss of the wake.
"I can't believe how stable she is, and how you need not hurry to take your post.” said Henry, who had now been relieved on the steering oar and was stretching the knots out of his arms.
"Aye, she's a well bred lady,” warned Raynar, "right up until she becomes a screaming bitch. And then you die. Never push her beyond the strength of the lashings, for if they go, the force in the spars will rip open the hulls. Then the spars will splinter they will send shards through every man on deck. If one of the hulls is ever swamped, that will be your end. That is why you must watch the bow and never let it plunge beneath the next wave."
He pointed towards the closest spar "Look, see beside every spar lashing there is an axe, and there beside the iron pins there are axes as well. If ever a hull is swamped every man must get to the still floating hull and man every axe to work together to release the spars from the still floating hull. If one of the spars does not break free with the rest, then it will rip the gunnels apart. Even if you can separate the hulls, you are screwed, for the ships have no ballast, so you had better drop any sail before the axes finish their work."
"I did not realize,” said Henry imagining the deadly force in the spars that were twisting and groaning with each wave.
"Aye,” said Raynar, "like I said. She makes it look easy, but if you get over confident, she will kill you.” He looked around and took his bearings from the Wight cliffs. "This navigator knows these tides well. He has made almost a perfect course. Look, our last tack will take us clear of that spit and out of the Solent."
The navigator kept to the same tack longer than Raynar or any of the mates would have, and came about just before he would have beached them on the Isle of Wight. Later they saw why. The tide on the outside of the Solent seemed feet higher than that of the inside, and the current was like a mountain river on the spit side of the entrance.
The navigator called them back to the aft castle and surrendered his command. "This ship is as sound as any, so I see no reason to hug the coast. With this wind you should be able to set a course to Purbeck Isle and there is nothing between us save swells and wind. Let one of these other cap'ns get a feel for her."
Night caught them off Saint Alban's cliffs and both ships hoisted oil lamps high enough to be seen over the swells. Usually seamen hated high seas at night because no one got any sleep, but the decks of this ship rocked them all gently to sleep. All the watch need do is keep an eye to the weather, adjust the steering oar on each new swell, and keep within sight of the other ship.
By first light the swells were well down, and Raynar and Henry were cursing their luck. A large, well manned
ship could put to sea in this, if they had a brave skipper. Raynar decided to give the navigator a good look at the shore so he could be certain of their location. He had the crew whistle to waken the watch on the other ship, then he had the course set northwest, and had the crew hoist the second sail. Within minutes both of the twinhulls were surfing effortlessly and rapidly towards the wide stretch of land that was low on the horizon.
By the time they could see features on the land, all aboard had relieved themselves and then filled their tummies with oatcakes and dried pork and windfall apples. The navigator searched for landmarks until he was absolutely sure of their location. "That gap in the hills there,” he said pointing, "is the mouth of the River Exe."
"Make for the mouth of the Exe,” ordered Henry, and the collection of captains and mates stared at him as if he had two heads. "I mean, ugh, cap'n sir, didn't that nob say to look for him at the mouth of the Exe."
"Aye, he did,” Raynar yelled over to Henry, "now get back to the steering oar. I never said I would put in at any port, and it is a gamble that we may be recognized. Swing in closer to the headland. Let the nob signal us that he is there, else we don't stop."
Before Henry could haul the steering oar to change course there was a whistle from the bow watch. "Squall, big sucker, dead ahead."
"Squall, d'ya call it now,” said the navigator once he had stood on the gunnels to better see. "I'd call it more than that. Your choice cap'n. Safe harbour in the Exe, or try to outrun it."
Everyone went quiet. "Same plan. If we get no signal, we run the storm,” decided Raynar. He set every free hand to watching the cliffs, and then went to stand at the steering post next to Henry. "What were your orders to the army?” he asked in a low voice.
"Take Exeter if it costs little, but don't let it slow you down. We expect them to surrender the walls immediately. Capture every ship and sail them to Tamara sound if the weather clears. The mounted men are to cut overland at the foot of the moor to get to the River Tamara without delay."
"Then there is no need to stop unless you need news."
"None,” agreed Henry.
"Does Robert know you are on board?"
"No, He will be waiting for me to join the army somewhere beyond Exeter."
"Do you want ashore here, to complete that plan. Do you trust Robert in charge of your army."
"Hah, Ranulf is in charge,” Henry said quietly. "He hates Robert. He has hated him since we were children. Robert will be in charge of the alehouses and their whores, and kept far away from my cavalry.” When he saw Raynar raise an eyebrow, he continued, "The cavalry are knights and their oathmen. It includes Norman knights whose loyalties may be swayed by Mortain or by Robert."
"What do you want, Henry. What do you really want. You have a thousand men on the march. You have us facing another storm. What is it you really want,” Raynar sighed, "truthfully."
"Banishing Belleme did not work. He is still causing trouble in Normandy. Only I and my brother Richard, bless his soul, were brought up to be English and spoke English. He to be king, and me to be Archbishop. Most of my family, my last full brother, my last two sisters, still live in Normandy, and now Belleme threatens them. I do not want Mortain in England, and I do not want him in Normandy. If I cannot capture him, then I want him dead. There I have said it, and the saying of it will cost me a new church in penance, for he is my own cousin."
"Now answer the question you posed to Mary. How many good men are you willing to lose for Mortain's sake?"
"None,” Henry replied quickly, "and that is another reason I came aboard, to stop you from taking foolish risks with these men's lives."
"So be it,” Raynar agreed. It was an unfair thing to accuse him of. In his mind he always calculated and balance risks, for he usually led men from the front, the riskiest place.
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The Hoodsman - Forest Law by Skye Smith
Chapter 27 - William comes to Gerberoi, France in January 1079
"Fuckin' half of Normandy is out there,” said the watcher standing next to Raynar, oops, that is, Anso.
"Why did we have no warning from Robert's scouts?” wondered Anso aloud.
"Cause they've switched sides,” came the glib answer from five bowmen at once. They all knew that this day would come. A month ago Robert short-socks had finally raided Rouen. This was the day that William had come to spank his naughty child. They were all suspicious that half of Robert's knights would not raise arms against William.
The wolvesheads had now appeared on the wall. "Who is on leave in the village?” asked one and was answered by the same five bowmen. They all knew that the village in question was not the one beneath the castle, but the one further down the Tahier stream near where it joined the River Therain.
"Good,” the wolveshead replied, "then they will already be on their horses making for Montreuil and Corbie.” The bowmen had long ago given up trusting in the Normans they shared this fortress with. They made sure that four bowmen were always on leave in the village at the end of this valley. All bowmen had the same instructions. If they see an army, do not return to Gerberoi. Ride immediately to Montreuil and Corbie and report.
Each wolveshead was now calculating the dates in their heads. It would take at least two days for the first mounted knights and bowmen to reach here from Montreuil and two days more for Fulk's advance riders to reach here. Hopefully Fulk was in the north and not on one of his forays in the south. Philippe was a good king because he took care of politics and trusted Fulk to take care of the army. Philippe himself was not a good general. His pride made him too wasteful of men.
The general alarm was now sounded but already all of the bowmen were on the wall with strung bows and nocked arrows. "No one shoots before my order,” commanded one wolveshead. The bowmen knew their business. They were not archers to fill the sky with cheap arrows. Their arrows were expensive and crafted and heavy in metal. They would not waste them, but every man of them knew the exception to the wolveshead's order. They were all skirmishers. If they saw the leader of this army, they would most certainly shoot at him as soon as he was within range.
The rest of that day was wasted by groups of nobles from each side discussing the rules of engagement for knight on knight encounters. The truce for these discussions allowed the army from Rouen to bring their siege engines into range without any opposition from the hilltop castle. The bowmen jeered and snickered because no matter what the knights decided it would not change their own rules of engagement. Get Normans killing Normans.
That night, the bowmen used one of the castle's siege engines. The Rouen army had foolishly camped within its range. The night watch of bowmen launched payload after payload of burning rubble, and in the light caused by the flames licking at the tents, they sent well aimed heavy arrows into the camp to increase the confusion. Before the knights of the castle were woken, dressed, and on the castle walls ordering them to stop, the damage was already done.
Robert himself mounted the walls to scream his anger at the bowmen. "Calm yourself,” said an older second to him, "your rules of engagement have not been breached. There was nothing in them that said we could not attack warriors so stupid as to camp within our range."
Robert's bluster went out of him and he looked down at the panic in the enemy camp below. They were trying to put out fires while also trying to set up armed defenses against a surprise sortie from the castle that the fires would certainly portend. Robert went back to his mistress, and the knights back to their bunks, but the enemy had no way of knowing that a sortie had not been planned. They were forced to stand to arms for most of the freezing winter night.
The next day the army from Rouen revenged themselves on some of Robert's knights who had been caught while returning to the castle from one of their raids deep into the Vexin. The knights were paraded in chains and offered for ransom, while the men who rode with the knights each lost their left arms at the elbow in full view of the castle wall.
That night the bowmen were pleased to open the small door in the gate and allow twenty men-at-arms with blackened faces to leave the castle and then open it again when they returned two hours later. Only eighteen of them returned, but the outrage from Rouen's army the next morning was considered by them to be worth the loss of only two. All of Rouen's siege engines had been crippled by the cutting of their twisted sinews and the captured knights had been rescued.
Anso stayed out of the planning and the forays and the mischief. That was not his worry in this battle. He was here as a hunter, not a warrior. He patiently waited for the garrison from Montreuil to arrive, and then shortly after them, the French army. In the meantime any of these knightly forays was nothing more than an enjoyable diversion for him to watch.
By the fourth day, however, there were still no relief garrisons in sight. To be fair, it had been four days of freezing rain. The kind of January weather that gave everyone an excuse to stay under a roof. On this day, however, the two forces of knights decided that it was passed time for knights to prove their worth. It was decided that Rouen's champion and Robert's champion would meet in a match that would signify nothing but would keep all the men of both armies amused.
The wolvesheads on the walls were incensed. What kind of battle was this that paused for all of this knightly nonsense. One of them asked his men who the best long range bowman was, and they pushed a shy lad forward who stood at least six foot six. The lad had shoulders wider than a door and they had grown immensely strong when he had been a bond slave oarsman on a Norse raider. The target, Rouen's champion knight, was pointed out to him. His task was to ensure that Robert's knight won. When the enemy knight was closing with his lance on our knight, he was to put an arrow into the man's lance shoulder.