by Smith, Skye
Raynar would have given a months earnings to go with them, but he knew he mustn't. It was important that they bond, and they would do that better without him. He even pulled Risto aside and after much whispering convinced him to make an excuse and drop out of the party. Finally the costumes were ready and Mary twirled for the men in her eagerness for approval. She looked like a right trollop.
"Leave your jewels here," Risto commented.
"But they are not my costly ones," Mary argued. All of the men laughed at her innocence. They were set in gold.
"Love," said Raynar. "Even if they were set in silver, someone would try to nick them. Go and take them off."
Eustace looked like someone’s down in the heel servant. He played the part quite well except for the jeweled hilt of his sword. Risto took it from him and warned, "If there is a fight in an alehouse, then never draw a blade. Once one man draws a blade, then everyone must draw a blade, and then there is murder done. You are better off leaving your blades at home, and trusting to the fists of your guards."
The guards for the evening of adventure both nodded to confirm Risto's wisdom.
"Mary looks good as a trollop," Eustace beamed, "Good enough to drag to a bed."
Raynar stopped smiling, and Risto noticed and gave Eustace a warning. "Don't touch her in that way unless she asks you. Raynar, here, is not known for his mercy when it comes to rapists."
"So I have been told by others," said Eustace, "but surely he has never killed someone for a simple rape, has he?"
Risto coughed, so that he would not laugh.
"Have you?" Eustace said, staring at Raynar.
"I'd rather not talk about it," replied Raynar and would have said more, but Mary arrived back and so instead he turned and swung her around in his arms and placed her gently down on her own feet next to Eustace.
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The Hoodsman - Ely Wakes by Skye Smith
Chapter 7 - The knights of Kingscliff in Northamptonshire in May 1070
With the Kingscliff lad's help, young Raynar had drawn and copied rough maps of the Willow Brook valley and the location of the woods, streams, roads, bridle paths and manors. The leader and the second of the axemen each had a copy and they were being led by the lad to secure Kingscliff just in case the attacks on the Norman Knights failed for some reason. They would be only half way there by now.
There were close to thirty mounted bowmen with Raynar. He had hoped for a dozen, had cut off the volunteers at twenty, but could not deny the extra eight men that followed them here from Westerbur. It was now dawn at the closest of the Norman fortified manors to Kingscliff. This was the place where the bishop's sergeant had hoped to find sanctuary on that day when he abducted Anske.
The lad had told them that the four knights of this valley had taken legal right to the manor estates using the Norman tactic of marrying-by-rape the widow of the manor, and then continuing to rape her until she produced a child by him. Then one by one, the widow's prior children met with unfortunate, and fatal, accidents.
The four knights predated the new Norman abbot at Peterburgh Abbey. They had been sent as Escheat trustees for the widows' estates by the short-lived Sheriff of Peterburgh. The sheriff was a Norman who had been sent by the new King William after the chapter of the abbey had elected the English Abbot Brand, back in '67, which had been confirmed by the extremely short reign of King Edgar Atheling, Margaret's brother.
The Sheriff was short-lived because a couple of years ago, Raynar's first gift to the Frisian women of the Fens had been to shoot the vicious Sheriff and his deputy. He had been the sheriff who first issued written orders to kill all Daneglish men whenever a Daneglish village was raided.
The fields around this manor had still not been planted, even though the knights must have coin enough and horse enough and seed enough. Norman held manors had not suffered during the harrowings. It was typical of a Norman land lord. They had no interest in being farmers.
The fields had probably not been planted because all of the estates energies seemed to have been spent building a pale wall around the manor and the stable yard. Also typical of a Norman land lord. Two of the youngest bowmen, with the fastest legs were hidden close to the gate waiting for it to be opened for the business of the day. Most of the rest of the bowmen were in two groups, one with Raynar, the other with his second, hidden along the cartways that ran on each side of the gate. A few men were in position in the long grass behind the manor, just in case someone tried to sneak out over the wall.
The love of Norman's for their horses, and the distain they had for peasants were both weaknesses that Raynar knew about and often used against them. He had been known to walk his farm nag, Abby, right up to a group of armed Normans, only to pull up his bow out of hiding, and kill a few before they realized that he was even a threat. That was how the Sheriff of Peterburgh had been killed.
The smaller of the two gates was swung open by an old man. Inside the yard, two horses were already saddled and waiting for Norman riders. They must have errands to do today. The lads ran through the gate, in glee at having the old man already do the work of catching two horses for them. They grabbed the bridles and ran towards the gate with them, and then out of it.
The three Normans from inside the walls never thought it strange that the two horse thieves didn't just climb into the saddles and be away. They simply gave chase. The lads still didn't mount up, and instead started screaming as if they were afraid. The Normans yelled a variety of threats to them in broken English as they cleared the gate and continued to gain on the thieves, who now seem to be having trouble pulling the horses along.
The horses were a lot smarter than their Norman masters. They had seen the movement in the shadows and had balked. The Normans saw nothing in the shadows until they looked down at the arrows sticking out of them, but by then it was too late. Even if they did not die right away, there was too much pain to allow logical thought.
The bowmen rushed the gate before the old man could close it. They searched the yard and the stables while covering each other, until there was only the house to be searched. They called into the house for everyone to come out and surrender themselves if they wanted to be spared. After a short delay, a half dozen women, all with babies, came out of the house followed by a tall Norman, obviously the knight by the fine fabric of his clothes.
There was a shout from behind the house, and then a scream. A short while later a call came over the wall, "No problem, we got him. He was crawling down from the thatch."
While a few of the lads dragged all the bodies into the yard, and then closed the gate, Raynar introduced himself to the widow of the manor in English, and then repeated it in French for the sake of the knight.
"She is not a widow," the knight corrected him, "She is my wife." He pointed to the baby the widow was carrying in her arms. "That is our son and heir."
"I stand corrected," Raynar replied in French, and then in English to the women he said, "Your fields have not yet been planted, so we have come to arrange their planting. This man is no longer the lord, and his men are all dead or dying. Do any of you wish to lay charges of assault, rape or murder against him?"
"We've all been raped," said the woman who was obviously the cook. "Every day almost, for over two years. By him and by the others."
To be fair, Raynar translated the accusation for the accused.
"That was my right," replied the knight coolly. "I am their lord, and that one is my wife."
"So you freely admit that you have broken Knut's laws?"
"You are the outlaw," the knight accused, "you have killed my men."
"You are right, we are outlaws, but we will deal with your crime against these women first, as it was committed first." Raynar looked around. The four bodies were lying in a row in the yard, now stripped and naked. He motioned everyone to walk over to them. They were very dead now, and no longer bleeding.
He held up Anske's knife. "This is the knife of a Va
lkyrie. Any woman who claims rape against any of these men is allowed justice in kind. You are free to use this knife to cut off their manhood so that they will be eunuchs forever more in the afterlife."
"Why not," said the cook. "But I don't need that fisher knife, I have my own." With that she pulled out a carving knife that she had hidden in her smock, and one by one, kicked the corpses legs apart and then carved sausage. Close to where the men were lined up watching, there was a forge. After a few pumps of the bellows, it glowed hot. The Cook speared each grisly bit of meat with her long knife and dropped them into the coals.
Raynar walked to the forge and put an iron in the fire and pumped the bellows again to heat it. Then he motioned to his men to lay the knight over the bench beside the forge. He tried to fight them, but was hit so hard in the stomach that he gasped and could not catch his breath. Those he had fought, bound him to the bench and to the post behind the bench and then stripped him.
The widow stared at the Valkyries knife that the young handsome bowman was offering to her. The question posed to her was "do you want to take your justice." She looked at the knife, she looked at the bound and struggling man, who claimed to be her husband, and she shook her head, and hugged her baby to her cheek.
"Well I can," said a strapping blonde milk maid. "I've been gelding stock since I was knee high. This is no different." She grabbed the wickedly sharp filleting knife from the comely bowman, and with three quick cuts the knight was neatly and efficiently gelded. She threw the lump of flesh that had cause her so many troubles into the coals, wiped the knife on a rag, and handed it back to the bowman. Then she grabbed the hot iron so she could cauterize the wound.
"Hold," said the cook. "Cutting it and cauterizing it are two different decisions. I want him to bleed to death. He killed the old lord's son as sure as I am standing here. If his god forgives him that, then his god will stop the bleeding. Otherwise, let him watch his life flow into the dust."
Some of the bowmen grumbled about that. The same ones that had involuntarily crossed their legs as the milk maid had been doing the gelding. Raynar spoke out. "Men, we need to take all of the manors by surprise. We can't take the risk that a prisoner will escape. It was an escaped prisoner that did for my Anske and caused all this bother in the first place."
"Yeh," said one of the young runners who had pretended to thieve the horses, "but that man isn't riding anywhere soon, even if we save his life."
"Well put," replied Raynar. "Then we will leave the decision to the folk of the manor. Step forward anyone who wants this man to live, and use the hot iron on him." No one moved. The knight was praying to his god. His face was pale. The pool of blood on the bench was getting ever bigger. Then the cook moved. She turned to go back to the kitchen shed, and announced that breakfast for all would be in an hour. Everyone else drifted away as well, until there was only Raynar and the widow and the knight.
"So I am twice widowed," she said, hugging her baby again and watching as the blood poured off the bench and into the dust. "Hand me your knife." She held it clumsily in her free hand, so she passed the baby to the bowman.
"Don't slit his throat," the bowman pleaded with her. "There is a kinder way. Find the soft spot at the base of the back of the skull and push it through that spot." She did as she was told and it was finished, the knight was finished, the horror of the last two years was finished.
"We'll bury these men over by the Brook before we eat breakfast," Raynar told her "and after breakfast most of us will be gone. I will send a rider to Kingscliff to bring a planting team here to protect you and to work the farm. I will leave three bowmen to protect you until the planting team arrives."
"You are clearing this valley of Normans?" she asked. "There are three other knights to the south west."
"They will be gone by sundown," he assured her.
* * * * *
A great number of Norman knights that had claimed estates along the borders of the old Danelaw, paid dearly over the next month for the brutal murder of one pretty Frisian lass. The berserker Raynar's battle cry became "no prisoners".
Raynar did not stop at the four knights of the valley of Willow Brook. His overwhelming anger kept him riding from Norman estate to Norman estate. His chosen followers were men like himself, that had no family, no village, and nothing left to lose. Men who wanted vengeance against the Normans, not just for personal reasons, but because of the horror of the Great Harrowing.
Their scheme was to harrow the Norman knights that had harrowed the north. In doing so they would try not to harm any English, especially not the women that were captives of the knights. They would try not to burn roofs or crops or kill animals. In fact it was nothing like the harrowing of the North. They were just out to murder as many Normans as they possibly could.
The tactics evolved quickly because each target was very similar. The normal target was a knight and at most ten men at arms. They would have fortified a manor with pale walls to secure against attacks by armed men, but there was nothing they could do about the risk of fire. The fortifications were usually too small to allow all the horses to be kept within, so only the most valuable battle horses were kept in the stable.
Each time was easier than the last. In broad daylight, four ragged men would pretend to be stealing the horses kept outside the fortified manor. The Normans would run or ride out to stop them. They would be cut down by a hail of heavy arrows. None were allowed to escape to take warnings to the next manor. Their battle cry of "no prisoners" was obvious as it was expedient, because they could not risk prisoners escaping to spread a forewarning of the tactics.
The manor would be searched for any Normans that may be hiding. Any women in residence would be told that the manor was once again theirs, for the price of any Norman horses and armour. The horses would be loaded with the armour and taken to the closest Frisian horse traders to be delivered with the armour to Huntingdon and to nowhere else. The Normans would be buried in deep and unmarked graves.
Raynar and his band zig zagged their way through the shires staying far away from Norman garrisons. When the word went out about how quickly and easily they had killed the first four knights, bowmen and axemen from Huntingdon began searching them out to join them. Within a week Raynar's biggest problem was how big his band had become.
Raynar split his existing, experienced band into two and used the new bowmen to pad each group to a full strength of thirty. He used the axemen to do the clean up, which took much more time than the actual fighting. The axemen were transporting the prizes, protecting the manor, protecting the fields, and working again as farmers.
Their simple tactic was working smoothly and well, over and over again. Raynar’s two bands were now traveling and attacking faster than word could spread of their presence. No English folk ever warned the Normans that there were bowmen at large. In truth, the English folk eagerly suggested the next targets.
Throughout the attacks Raynar cautioned his men that no Normans must escape, and that it was dangerous to take the Normans prisoner unless they could be safely led away to Huntingdon or Ely. Effectively this meant no quarter for Normans, just as there had been no quarter for Anske.
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The Hoodsman - Ely Wakes by Skye Smith
Chapter 8 - A ruse on the Danish Jarl in Ely, The Fens in June 1070
"You must call him back to Ely," spoke Hereward. He was play acting. He did not trust Jarl Osbard. It had been he who had accepted the Danegeld from William last year and then had abandoned the Danelaw to the Harrowing. Now that he had replaced his brother King Sweyn as the commander of Ely and of the Danish army in the fens, Hereward no longer trusted Sweyn's true intentions.
"Call him back. I wish I had a dozen more like him," said Jarl Osbard. "He chose thirty Yorkie axemen who were seeking bloody vengeance for their villages. He trained them in the Welsh bow, and in fighting cavalry. With just thirty men he is destroying the Normans across the shires between us and London. Th
ey attack without warning, kill as many as they can, and then disappear. Rarely does he lose a man, and rarely does a Norman survive."
"He has a sickness of the mind." Hereward pleaded. "The death of his woman has unhinged it. The Raynar of yore did not kill folk for the sins of their lords, he killed the lords themselves. Yet now he is like a mad dog killing every Norman he can find."
"And I'll say it again. I wish I had a dozen more like him. He has become a berserker and the Normans fear him so much that they run from anyone who is dressed as a Dane. My men are singing songs about him in the ale houses."
"William's capacity for vengeance we have already seen in Yorkshire," argued Hereward. "If Raynar continues on this rampage, William will seek the same vengeance on Lincolnshire."
"You make a valid point, but first William has to find men with the courage to face the Valkyries Knife. That is what the Normans are calling him you know. Not Raynar of the Peaks. You say he is sick in the mind, and yet his men would follow him into Hades itself, and there are hundreds more who would join his thirty in an instant."
"Recall him."
"No," Jarl Osbard softened his voice, "Now no more about Raynar. We need to take this bailey. We have had Cambridge surrounded for two weeks. Our plan was either to take the bailey or to force the Norman army camped near London to ride north and save it. Neither has happened."
"The army will not march with William on the continent. They are content to keep London from us and hold the Thames. William is pulled in too many directions and he is too weak to do it all," said Hereward while pretending to control his temper. The ruse was working.