by Smith, Skye
Raynar did not correct him by saying he was Saxon not Frisian. It was an easy mistake to make. He looked like a Frisian, dressed like a Frisian, and had lived in the fens for most of the past two years.
"The truth of why I need you, is because you have proven that you can defeat heavy cavalry." Sweyn swept his arms in a wave to show the battle axes hung on the wall. "The Frisians and the Danes are axemen. Almost all of Roberts warriors are huscarls and axemen who are masters of the shieldwall. William has proven here in England that his heavy cavalry can crush shieldwalls."
Sweyn paused to let the truth of his words hang in the air above his own proud warriors. "Arnulf and Phillip lead the knights of France and the knights of the buffer counties with Normandy. They have the same kind of heavy cavalry. We must defeat the Frankish cavalry in Flanders. We need you two to take as many wolfpacks and ship's bowmen as you can to Flanders. As soon as the fields of the low counties drain of the winter rains, Robert will march on Flanders. That means that you must come with us to the low counties before the winter storms trap our ships here."
Raynar looked at Klaes. He knew immediately that Klaes was already agreeing to this plan. Of course, for his Frisian trading partners would have already been recruiting him. "My quest is to remove the Normans from England. How will my fighting in Flanders help my quest? I would be better to make peace with William so he can take his armies across the Manche and let the Franks kill each other."
"Pah," replied Sweyn, "Frank against Frank. I have seen that too many times. They joust and kill each other's peasants, and then write up a treaty and divide the spoils. He would be back in England within three months with another county under his rule and a larger army."
"It still seems to me that the best thing for England would be for William to be entrenched in endless wars on the continent. Baldwin's death could be the start of that. If anything, my wolfpacks would shorten a war in Flanders."
"Without the bowmen the war will be short indeed. The heavy cavalry will roll over the Frisians as if they were beach sand. Besides, do you think that the Danelaw is the only land where William is fighting a peasant's revolt. He is short of lords and he is short of knights. The Normans are fighting the Byzantines in the Latin kingdoms and they are close to winning. Norman knights have no interest in these soggy Fens. Draw William's knights to the continent and they are likely to desert him for the riches of the warmer kingdoms."
"When are you leaving?" asked Raynar. Klaes was squirming on the bench at Raynar's reluctance. He wanted to go.
"We must be in the low countries by mid October. That means gathering the men to Ely by mid September," replied Sweyn.
"Earlier would be better," interrupted the Jarl. "Last year the storms came in September and we were stranded in the Humber for the winter." He noticed that the English men shot him angry stares for saying this.
"Hereward, everything I know I learned from you. Do they take you as well?" asked Raynar.
Hereward answered immediately "I must stay to command the men guarding the Fens. Besides, they need you, not me. I only taught you how to defeat shieldwalls. You taught yourself how to defeat cavalry." Hereward looked at Sweyn. "There is more. I doubt I would be welcomed in Flanders. I caused much trouble there in my youth. Trouble that I am not proud of."
"John has taught some of Canute's oarsmen to be bowmen and to fight cavalry" Raynar interrupted. "We could teach more. You do not need the wolfpacks."
Harald spoke up "You have taught perhaps fifty of our men, and I thank you for that, but Danish oarsmen are axemen to the core. They do not respect archers and have no use for arrows at sea. After all, you cannot walk on the water to retrieve the spent ones," the men chuckled at the truth of it. "Well, perhaps Canute could, but not the rest of us." The men guffawed at the jest on Canute's love for the stories of the son of the desert god.
Canute did not respond to the mockery, instead he asked, "Raynar, good Hereward has retold your tale of fighting the Earls of Hereford and of Chester to bring bows to Ely. What do you think of FitzOsbern and of Gerbod and of their treatment of the English and the Welsh? I hear FitzOsbern reigns like a bad king in those lands."
Raynar sighed, "He forced William to make him a palatine ruler of the border and he rules as a tyrant. He is not leashed by any court, and even William does not question his actions. Both of those earls are still harrowing villages. I have special arrows already chosen for the hearts of those two bastards."
Canute smiled at his father then turned back to Raynar. "Gerbod is of Saint Omer in Flanders and he supports Arnulf. FitzOsbern is a Norman, the lord of Breteuil and a confident of the royals of Flanders. Our spies report that Baldwin's widow Rachilde, who is Countess of Mons and Hainaut in her own right, has offered herself as wife to FitzOsbern, but only if he will help her secure Arnulf's claim to Flanders. FitzOsbern would become the Count of Mons and Hainault."
Canute watched Raynar's look become cunning and alert. He kept talking. He had to convince him. "Gerbod and FitzOsbern are recruiting warriors as we speak. They are going to Flanders. The arrows for those bastards may find their marks more easily in a battle in Flanders than from behind a tree in Hereford."
"Will William the Bastard be on the same battle field with FitzOsbern?" Raynar hoped for a yes.
"Not likely," Sweyn broke in. "He will be on his border hoping that the battle is long and bloody so that both sides of it become easy prey for his weakened army. This is why we need your bowmen Raynar. It is not enough that Robert wins. He must win without losing many men. Hereward has reported the successes of your Wolfpacks. How many Norman warriors have your wolfpacks killed this summer?"
"Perhaps a thousand. Perhaps less," replied Raynar.
"And how many bowmen were lost to do this?"
"Less than thirty. Usually new members. Usually caused by their vengeful rage overruling their good sense. That and from foolishness and accidents," replied Raynar.
"That is the kind of results we need in Flanders!" yelled Sweyn, standing in excitement "Strike them fast, strike them hard, slaughter them as they ride, unhorse them, and finish them." He held is hand out to Klaes and Raynar. "What can I offer you and your men to convince you to come? " he looked at his son Canute, but his son was shaking his head at him, so he sat. "No, do not answer yet. Sleep on it first."
"How long did it take the bowmen to take the forts at Peterburgh, Huntingdon, and Bedford?" asked Canute.
"A day of planning, and a day of fighting in each case," replied Raynar.
Sweyn threw a look of distain at his brother the Jarl, who had yet to take Cambridge and said, "The Franks well like their baileys and fortresses and towers. They hide in them in safety and wait until the odds favour an easy win. They do the same where ever they go. They take root like a sapling, and then they grow and grow into a giant tree. Do you know what they do now in Normandy. They are rebuilding their baileys with stone. Giant stone walls. They are bringing masons from the Byzantine to build them."
"I have always thought," said Raynar softly, "that the Normans think of themselves as the new Romans. The Romans invaded these same lands and held them for hundreds of years. They could hold them for so long because of their roads and forts. The Normans must believe that they can also rule for centuries if they do the same. They build forts out of the rubble of the Roman forts, and prefer the Roman streets to the village cartways."
"How do you know these things?" asked Canute.
"I have read Greek books. They explain these things better than Latin books," replied Raynar.
There was silence at the table while the nobles stared at this peasant bowman who read Greek.
Canute broke the silence. "My granduncle Knut built his empire the same way, only his ships were his baileys and the sea and rivers were his roads. Ships are better than baileys because they can be moved. His empire was the coasts and islands of the Baltic and the North seas."
The Jarl half stood and yelled "To Knut" to the sky as a salute, and all the
men stood and drained their ale.
Canute ignored the interruption. "We Danes are the folk of sea and islands, and England is the biggest of the islands. I keep telling my father to forget the endless plains of the continent and to win Knut's islands back. To do that we need more large Cogs. Ships that have castles both fore and aft. True floating forts."
Sweyn grumbled "Knut had an empire, but it was a poor empire. Look at the wealth the Rus earn from their river routes to Byzantium. Flanders and France are growing rich from their own river routes to the east. Now Normandy is trying to win the route through the Roman sea. Only Denmark has no route to the East."
"The most valuable treasure from the East," said Raynar, "is not the gold or the silk or the spices, or even the stone carvings stolen from the cities of the ancients. The most valuable treasure is the knowledge of the East. That knowledge was once brought to this island by the Romans but it left with them, when they left. That was when this island was Britain, before there was an England.
If you want a part of the Eastern riches, then you must bring the Eastern knowledge back here and use it. William the Bastard knows this, and so he is importing Greek masons. He thinks the Greek masons will rebuild the Roman Britain for him despite his shortage of men."
"From what I have seen," said Sweyn in a low voice. Everyone quieted to hear. "William is right to think that. We lose against his forts, and we lose against his cavalry." He looked around the suddenly somber table of men. "How did you win those forts, Raynar?"
"Trickery. The walls are strong, but they all have the same weakness. The men inside. Or rather the fear and the greed of the men inside.
If you look like a strong enemy, then they hide behind their walls, and you must make siege, perhaps for months.
If you look like a weak enemy then they will wait for you to weaken yourself further against their walls.
If you look helpless, they rush out to seize you.
If you look like a friend they welcome you inside."
Raynar looked down the table at the Jarl. "Twice we looked like friends and once we looked helpless."
The table of men looked at the Jarl. He shrugged. Raynar rescued him by speaking again. "It is the same with their cavalry.
If you look strong, they run away more quickly than you can follow them.
If you look weak, they pick at your flanks until you are weaker.
If you look helpless they charge.
If you look like a friend they dismount."
Raynar looked directly at Canute. "They know now to scout the land for ambushes, so now you must tease them with the helpless to trick them into charging into the ambush."
He paused to let the words sink in. "Most of all, you must ambush them with heavy arrows from good cover. You just keep shooting and shooting as long as any are still mounted. If you run out of arrows while any are still mounted, then you run away until you can find more arrows. Otherwise you will lose good men trying to finish them."
Sweyn spoke quietly again. "There will be peace in the Danelaw this winter, while Flanders is sorted. Do not expect the Normans to be idle. They will use the time to build baileys and to train cavalry."
"And this new earl that William has sent to us, Waltheof," Raynar asked. "What of him. Do we send him back to William less a few ears." He made it very clear that he thought the earl was a spy.
"Waltheof was sent to ensure us of William's peace in the Danelaw," Sweyn answered. "For now his has a diplomatic post, nothing more. Hereward is the head. Waltheof is the mouth. They are cousins. Both of them know this and both have so agreed."
Sweyn stomped the empty ale jug on the table and his chamberlain came running back into the room. "Bring us more ale, and bring the court back in." He looked at Raynar and Klaes. "You are free to leave me. Our court applies Knut's in-common law and sometimes the cases are intriguing, but not today. No cuckolded husbands today. Just men squabbling about contracts and sheep."
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The Hoodsman - Ely Wakes by Skye Smith
Chapter 20 - Yet another widow arrives in Ely in August 1070
Klaes and Raynar had to push their way through the returning throng to gain the door and leave Sweyn's court. Klaes turned to return to his ship "Thorold does not need transport until tomorrow, so we overnight here. If you lack company, you are welcome to join my crew for food at sunset."
Raynar turned to walk deeper into Ely. "Thank you, but first I must find John. He is here in Ely somewhere so I must seek out the music of his hammers."
"His hut is beside the forges. Stay close to the hut for a few hours, and I will have my men find him and send him to you."
The forges were hot and surrounded by men and boys. On his asking, he was shown to Johns hut by a slag boy who earned his crust by picking up the drops of cooled metal that escaped the crucibles. The door was unlocked so he walked in. Inside, half the hut was taken up by a fortune in various metals. "An island full of outlaws, and John can leave his metals unlocked" mused Raynar. He could hear the sounds of an archery practice from behind the back wall and he hoped that the practice targets were far from this hut.
He sat on the pallet and thought about the wondrous news from afar that he had heard today. For so long he had been so focused on saving the victims of the Normans, and then revenging them, that he had given little mind to the news from the rest of the world. How different from two years ago when Margaret and he had soaked up the knowledge of the Greeks and had dreamed of traveling to wondrous places together. He must have dozed because he did not hear the door open and was woken by a soft touch on his cheek. A kiss.
He opened his eyes and in the room was the slender shape of a Frisian woman, perhaps one of the women that Beatrice had taken to Huntingdon. He focused on her face, "Roas," he said with joy and leaped up to give Anske's sister a big hug." Then he pulled back to take a good look at the younger, prettier sister. "So is Gerke here too?"
She burst into tears. "Our village has lost one of its ships, Gerke's."
Raynar pulled her back into his arms to comfort her. Then he sat her on the pallet and sat beside her and gently rocked her in his hug. "But Klaes did not mention it," he whispered to her as he brushed his face against the top of her long flaxen braids.
"He, they, we thought it better that I tell you," she sniffed. "It is worse. Our son was on the ship with him. Oh I begged him to leave him home. He was too young to be on a ship. But they had been apart since early spring because Gerke was always away buying stock and seed, and then delivering it." She had to sniff again and she tried to wipe it on his jerkin, but the fabric was too coarse so she reached under it and pulled out a handful of the silk shirt that Raynar always wore next to his skin.
He wanted to yell in anger at the fates and throw things, but he could not because he did not want to disturb Roas. "Do you hate them Roas? Do you hate the Normans for taking your men?"
"Normans, what Normans. It was a storm and a rip tide that smashed the ship onto a reef. Ahhh, it was a nothing trip. He was just delivering eels up the coast." She looked up at him and then nestled her face into the silk. "Just another snowflake in the blizzard of sadness that has plagued this land since the Normans came. But this one is my own snowflake and it fills me with grief and weighs me down like a roof sagging under a load of snow."
They were interrupted by a light rap on the door. A young girl entered shyly carrying a tray of food and drink. "From John," was all she said as she put it down and then disappeared.
"John the Giant?"
"Little John," replied Raynar. "This is his hut. And why do I see Beatrice’s matchmaking in our meeting here like this?"
"Not Beatrice," she sighed, "but Inka the Seer. Under our law, you are now my husband."
He was taken aback for a few seconds, and froze where he sat.
"You were husband to my sister," she said. "Normally one of Gerke's brothers would become my next husband, but he outlived them all. You are next in line."
"Roas, please choose someone else," he whispered. "Not me. Look at the tragedy I brought onto Anske. At any time such a tragedy can consume any woman who lives with me."
Her tears stopped and she looked at him in shock and anger. Roas had never been refused, ever. Her words were made bitter by the rejection. "Do you think I want to be married to a berserker. To a man who has no fear of the Norman lances because he doesn't care if they kill him. It is the law. I am your wife until we can arrange a better match for me. It is a good law. It means that Frisian women are rarely widows, not like the poor downtrodden English widows."
She was right of course and he knew it. Right about village law, right about him not fearing to die, but almost wishing it, right about the sorrowful world of English widows. Was she right about arranging a better match? "Who would you rather wed than me?" he asked hopefully.
"No one," she answered quickly, and then went thoughtful and pressed her face back into the silk. After a few moments she said, "Hereward, but that is not possible. He is part noble, and entertains nobles. I know nothing of courtly manners or French. I was not groomed by Countess Beatrice for a husband because with me it was always Gerke, since I was five."
"Well then, my lovely wife," he whispered soothingly, "your first wifely task will be to learn courtly manners and French."
She giggled. The sound of it was like angels singing because it was so light and so unexpected and so different from tearful wails. "I thought you would set my first task as learning the bow, as Anske did, so that she could ride with you."
"You are definitely not riding with me," he told her firmly. "You must promise me to always stay safe with the other women." Then he was silent for a long time. They nestled deeper and deeper into each other's warmth.
"Where are your thoughts," she eventually asked. Two days ago she had been terrified when Inka told her that she must take this berserker as a husband. She had been even more terrified when Klaes dragged her towards this hut. Now she felt complete relief. He had learned of the death of Gerke and the boy, and had not gone berserk. Perhaps Inka was right. She belonged with him now, so that they could comfort each other in their loss. She nestled into him again.