Hoodsman: Ely Wakes

by Smith, Skye

  Raynar did not go back to the brazier with the various guards. He waited quietly, sitting in the shadows in the hall. Eventually the daughters' door opened and the three young women went through to the kitchen, from where Mary returned carrying a pitcher, a bowl, and some linen. She walked to the Count's room and entered without knocking.

  "Eustace" she whispered.

  He looked up from where he was laying on the bed. Her face was clean and her torn smock had been replaced by her bed cloak. While he watched she cast off her bed cloak and underneath she was wearing a natural silk night gown. In the soft candle glow the silk shimmered and showed her curves, and offset her skin's honey color.

  She looked at him. He was still wearing his soiled clothes and had not yet washed. "I've brought you some hot water to wash with and some linen for bandages." She busied herself pouring water and fussing with a damp cloth around his bruised eyes and nose.

  "Get those off so I can tend you," she ordered, pointing to his clothes. He obeyed, but only so far. "Oh no you don't. I won't abide any shyness from you. I am here to tend to your wounds, and to do that I must see them and cleanse them and cover them."

  "Roll onto your tummy" She said as she bundled his filthy clothes and flung them on the floor, then she brought a candle near and started to inspect him for wounds starting with the head. Each time she found a bruise she tutted and washed it. Each time she found a cut or scrape she used vinegar to cleanse it, and shushed his complaints at the stinging.

  When she had finished down to his ankles, she ordered him to turn over so she could do the front side. He refused. She tickled him. She slapped his bottom. He turned over and of course his cock was embarrassingly swollen.

  "Don't you dare try to hid it," she said. "After all, half of London just saw mine." She continued to wash and cleanse until she had only his groin left to do. This she did very gently, but every movement she made caused his member to bounce. He was gently moaning.

  "Now it is my turn" She slipped the silk from her shoulders and it dropped to the floor, then she lay down on her stomach and waited to be tended. She had already washed but she had bruises and abrasions. He got even with the vinegar and she stifled her moans. When he had finished the back she turned over and looked up at him and she knew that there was only one way that this was going to end. With him deep inside her.

  The door exploded inwards with a crash and Raynar stood in the doorway with his Syrian sword in his hand. Eustace backed against the wall and Raynar pinned him there with his blade.

  "You took an oath. I trusted you." He placed the point against the Count's chest.

  "Stop. What are you doing. Put your blade down and get out!" ordered Mary.

  "He took an oath. His life is forfeit," whispered Raynar.

  "No, this was innocent. We were tending each other's wounds. Nothing more."

  "You call that," he pointed the sword towards the counts sex, "nothing more. A flick of my wrist and I can promise you it will be nothing more."

  Mary, still naked, leaped between them, and Raynar withdrew his blade just in time else she would have slashed herself on it. "Then it is my life, not his. I came to him. I had him undress. I undressed myself. Oh Eustace, protect yourself."

  "Get out of the way Mary," hissed Raynar. "He is of the old school. He will not even try to stop my blade. He knows he has killed himself by breaking that oath. Unless."

  "Unless what!" She looked hard at him. She straightened up. "Unless what?"

  He was embarrassed by her nudity, yet could not turn his eyes away from her youthful beauty.

  "An oath can be overruled by a stronger oath."

  "What do you mean, oh, oh, oh," she turned around and he had to pull the blade completely back to save from scratching her skin. "Eustace, will you marry me."

  "What. I mean yes, of course. But why. Well, not why, I know why, but why now?"

  "Your oath of marriage will overrule the other oath. You will live. We will live together."

  "But what of Henry. Will he allow it?"

  "I am sister to a queen, and you are brother to a king. It is enough for him to accept. Edith will see to that." She reached for her silk and clutched it in front of her and then turned towards Raynar. "Ray, you don't mind if I marry a man from Flanders do you?"

  "Hah, so long as he is not forcing you, then I don't mind. Especially since he is Flemish and not Norman."

  * * * * *

  * * * * *

  The Hoodsman - Ely Wakes by Skye Smith

  Chapter 27 - A common law wedding for a princess in October 1101

  Raynar looked from Mary, who was still clutching her silk gown in front of her naked body, to Eustace who was still naked pressed against the wall pretending to fear for his life.

  "The only way I will release Eustace from his oath to me is if I hear a wedding oath now, and in front of witnesses. Cover up the pair of you. Put your night clothes on and then come to the hall. He walked out of Eustace’s bedroom and called out to the house, "I need witnesses for a wedding."

  The women of the house rushed out of rooms and were first to him, but of course a woman could not be a witness. The ambassador and Risto came upstairs from the yard, and finally Gregos who was slow on steps. When there were three male witnesses he said, "Welcome to the wedding of Eustace and Mary."

  The women all screamed in excitement, then complained that they were in their bed clothes.

  "No matter," he told them with a smirk. "So are the bride and groom."

  He turned and watched the grace of his secret daughter Mary as she came forward with her face radiant with happiness. True, the Count and he had trapped her into this with romantic nonsense, but all of the women in the hall seemed to fully approve of such nonsense. It could not be a bad thing to start a life together with a bit of silly romance.

  "Make your vows in front of these witnesses. Under Knut's in-common law you will then be married as soon as you share a bed and a breakfast table. If anyone knows reason why these two cannot be wed they must tell it now." He looked at the couple. "That means you too. Are either of you already married or even promised?"

  "I, Eustace Count of Boulogne, am free to marry this woman. Everything of mine is hers. I will protect her and cherish her always. I freely accept her has my wife. This I swear."

  "I, Mary, Princess of Scotland, am free to marry this man. Everything of mine is his. I will tend him and bear his children and be with him always. I freely accept him as my husband. This I swear."

  "Do the witnesses agree that they both have chosen this marriage of their own free will?" asked Raynar.

  "We do," said all.

  "Congratulations, now get back into the room and may you have a fine son tomorrow nine month," and he closed the door softly on them. He turned to his old friend the king's exchequer and said, "Gregos, I think our evening together is finished. Please add a line to the morning dispatches to Henry in Winchester, that Mary and the Count are now legally wed and have consummated the vows. They will return to Winchester in a few days."

  "I chose well didn't I?" Gregos was beaming. "I knew the offer of those honors would hold him in England, and I knew that he would fall in love with our Mary once he had spent time with her. Eustace doesn't remember me, but I met him six years ago in Constantinople. We were presented to the emperor Alexius on the same day. Eustace was too good a man to stay with his brothers and fight in the crusades. The crusade and the crusaders sickened him to the heart and he fled back to Calais."

  "You fox," Raynar laughed, "You matchmaking fox. I suspected this was your doing as soon as I heard about the trade routes."

  "I did it for Mary, only for Mary," objected Gregos. "Gentle men are rare amongst the nobility, and single gentle men are as rare as diamonds. She deserved a gentle man. He was a god send."

  "Thank you my friend."

  Gregos squeezed the hand he was offered. "I think you should go to a Christian church tomorrow and speak with your Margaret."

  "You are right a
s always. My oaths to her should now be complete. Her daughters have both entered marriages by their own will. Now my oaths are to the daughters and not to the mother."

  * * * * *

  Raynar had never been comfortable in Christian temples, but Margaret had spent much of her life kneeling in them, and had spent much of Malcolm's wealth building them. This morning he felt the need to visit with Margaret, and the best chance of that would be in one of the desert god's temples.

  Rather than making for the vaulted opulence of the newer Romanized temples like Westminster, he made for the tiny half walled chapel near the market. He sat for a while, but there was no peace with the market noise behind him, and the endless stream of market women curtseying to the desert prophet's mother.

  A serving wench with an enormous bosom sat beside him. She stank of sour ale but her long cleavage was admirable. "You look in need of a woman's company," she said.

  "I do, but with a woman who has long been with the angels."

  "Oh, sir, I apologize. I thought the other." She made to rise, "If you want to visit with an angel then this is not the place. This is where the market hags pray for a good day's sales so they can feed their brats. Go to Saint Anne’s. She was our saint before the Normans came. The custom of that chapel is mostly women, but they will not deny you entry."

  He thanked the woman and made a fast hike to Saint Anne’s. It was a Saxon church not yet fully Romanized because the convent beside it spent most of their coin on helping the sick in their hospital, rather than buying marble. He stood self consciously at the entry until his eyes were used to the gloom, and then crept silently down the lighter side of the hall.

  One shaft of sunlight was marking a bench and he moved to it and sat with the weak sunlight cascading through his graying hair. He did not kneel, he did not clasp his hands, he did not look at the idols surrounding the alter. He was just still. He filled his heart with his love for Margaret and for Edith and for Mary, and he filled his mind with visions of Margaret. Visions of her in the beauty of her youth, and then in the beauty of motherhood, but mostly visions of her generous smile and her welcoming eyes.

  Once his mind was filled with Margaret, then he began to whisper to her. "They have both married for love, dear heart. They have married men of their choosing and into lives of their choosing. I would rather they had married merchants than nobles, but your sister Christina raised them for the palace.

  Her influence on them was stronger than mine, and I bless her for caring so much for them. Their natural charm will protect them better than ever I could. I hope you are as pleased with them as I am. Both husbands cherish them and want children by them, so soon you will have grand children. Are you satisfied? Are we at peace now? Can you forgive me?"

  He had lost time. Had he been asleep. The sun was warmer now and he no longer felt the damp chill of the stone building. He heard other whispers and he very slowly drifted awake and opened his eyes. The whispering was from two wives who were staring towards him from the alter where they had lit candles. He turned his head slowly to see why they were looking.

  Around him in a semi circle were a dozen nuns on their knees in prayer. He rose silently and crept out of the center of their prayer circle. A nun at the edge grabbed his cloak as he passed. "Who was the woman, the visitation?"

  Raynar looked down at her face. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks flushed and her skin glowed as if she was just from her lover's bed. He was entranced by her look, and could not find words for some time. He felt her grip ease from his cloak and she turned back to the sun beam. "It was Margaret of Dunfermline," he said and made softly for the door. The nuns were still on their knees when he left.

  * * * * *

  There was no longer a reason for Raynar to stay at the ambassador's house, so he shouldered his kit, and said this thanks to the wife. He gave each of the merchant's daughter a kerchief of silk and a hug, and told the merchant not to disturb the newly weds with the news of his leaving. On the street it was a crisp still fall day. One that did not disturb the odors and the nose. He walked and found the alehouse that had pleased Mary so. He sat facing the view across the busy market place and ordered food from the same bosomy woman he had talked with in the market chapel just a few hours ago.

  "Are you the keeper here?" he asked.

  "I am while he isn't here, which is mostly," she replied.

  "There was trouble here last night?"

  The woman’s face blushed. "A fair doxy got the men so horny that they shamed the name of this inn. I've had to bar a half dozen of my best customers for their antics. I would buy a curse on the lasses head if she wasn't such a pleaser."

  "She has sent me here to make peace with you and with the inn." He handed her a small purse of silver. "Will this buy my meal and her pardon?"

  The woman tossed the purse in her hand. "A pardon, the meal, and me and a room for a week if you would like."

  "My poor old heart would fail if I tried bouncing you. No, I must pass on your kind offer. But there is one other thing that I would ask."

  "Go on then, ask it," she said as she sat down next to him and pulled herself close so that her breasts surrounded his arm.

  "If she ever comes back here, then let her. Let her play, let her dance, and let her come to no harm."

  "Your ugh ... niece is she?" she looked at the look of embarrassment on his face. "Ahh, your wayward daughter then. I should have known. She has your look of mischief."

  The woman joined him for his meal. The cook used spices sparingly but to great effect. When he left to continue on to Temple Lane she walked as far as the lane with him. "You're one of them lords what lives at the Domus Inn ain't ya?" she asked. Her last words to him were, "Don't worry ducks, if she kicks it up again I'll send word to the Domus."

  * * * * *

  * * * * *

  The Hoodsman - Ely Wakes by Skye Smith

  Chapter 28 - Returning to Ely from Flanders in April 1071

  Hereward was waiting on the docks in Ely when young Raynar stepped ashore. Klaes waved to Hereward from the ship, but would be busy for an hour with the ship and the crew. Hereward clasped his arm and then walked him to the new longhouse that had been built beneath the abbey's new tower.

  "The abbot wanted a tower for the abbey, and we wanted one for the watch, so we built it together and the entrance is through this longhouse. My longhouse." Hereward was proud of the tower. From it he could see ten miles around, and send signals ten miles around. "The abbot gave me his roofing lead for the longhouse roof. Neither of us wanted a roof that could burn so close to the tower. It makes for a noisy night when it rains."

  He pushed the door open and let Raynar walk ahead. He did not follow him through. He had promised Roas that she would have the first hour with him. Instead he went through the second door, and through the guard house and up the endless steps of the tower. Several times a day he made this climb, and his fitness was improving from it. He took the report of the watch as soon as he made the top platform. There were other ships coming from Lynn now. Two more Frisian cogs, and then five Danish longships.

  "Gather two wolfpacks," he told the watch. "One behind the low wall that marks the dock area, and the other along the river bank at the edge of the island. They are not to nock arrows unless I give the order. They will know my orders by the password Manchester."

  The wolfpacks always met new ships, but this time they would not be needed. All these ships were delivering English bowmen. Hereward cursed his weakness in allowing Roas the first hour. He needed to talk to Raynar before he met with these ships captains. He went back down and knocked on his own door. "Roas, can I speak with him" he yelled.

  "It's not an hour yet, not even half" she yelled back.

  "Something came up."

  "Of course it did. I have it in my hand as we speak," she laughed.

  "Roas."

  "All right," she slid the bar from the door, "but he is not getting out of the bed. You can talk while we cuddle." She purposefully
dropped her cloak before she got to the bed to keep Hereward in a pleasing mood. Raynar had a wide smile and a peaceful look on his face.

  Hereward had long ago heard all the news from Flanders. The trade between the Fens and the low counties was growing every day now that fair winds blew across the sea. "How many ships am I to expect?"

  "Nine in all. Three groups of three," said Raynar.

  "Only nine. You lost that many men."

  "I lost half," said Raynar quietly. Both Hereward and Roas sucked in air noisily at the loss of so many good men, "to Robert. I gave the men the choice of staying or coming home. Half stayed to earn Robert's coin protecting his borders with the French lands. They will still work as wolfpacks, but garrisoned at towers spread along the border. Frankish knights will no longer cross into Flanders without permission."

  "Four wolfpacks stayed. That is a lot for us to lose," mumbled Hereward.

  "Most were them that no longer have villages. I made the mistake of giving each man ten marks of silver in case they got separated from their wolfpack and had to make their own way home. With that ten marks in their pockets, they were free to say no to our ride home."

  "Are the Danes to spend the summer in Ely again?" asked Hereward.

  "No, there is better earnings from raiding the Normandy and Kent coastlines, now that they have friendly ports in Flanders. They have sworn to me that they will not raid the Danelaw, and that they will harry William if we ask it, but no, they will not land with an army this year."

  "What of their ships in the river"

  "They carry our men, but the captains will not want to tarry long. It is trading season and raiding season and this trip earns them nothing. Do you have enough women to get them all laid. That is the only thanks they need from us."

  Roas interrupted, "There is no shortage of women now. Ely is becoming like a Frisian island, run by the women. The monks are not pleased. They think us all the kin of witches because we do not pray in their chapel and sometimes work in the channels without any clothes."