Ironhand

by Hilary Green

  When it was over he lay panting and felt her fingers caressing his hair. He lifted his head and looked down at her and she gave him a timid smile. He frowned, puzzled. He was an enemy. He had taken her and violated her, but she was not angry. She touched his face with her fingertips, brushing away the frown lines and shaking her head. He kissed her again, very gently, and she murmured with pleasure. Suddenly, he was very tired. He reached for his cloak, drew her close and wrapped it round them both. Then he closed his eyes and slept.

  The crowing of a cock woke him. He opened his eyes and saw, through the gaps in the rough timbers of the roof, that the sky was pearl grey. His arms and legs were stiff and his whole body felt as though he had been beaten with cudgels; but deep inside he had a sense of ineffable peace. He stirred and felt the weight of the girl's head on his shoulder. She was sleeping still, her slender body moulded into his own. It struck him that he had been exceedingly foolish. His sword lay at his side, where he had shed it in his haste. If she wished, she could have cut his throat while he slept. He looked down at the tangled dark hair and told himself that she had not wished it; that he had known all along that she did not. Disturbed by his movement, she lifted her head and looked up at him, her expression a mingling of doubt and hope. He smiled and kissed her and she caught her breath in a small gasp of what he thought was relief.

  He murmured, 'Bon giorno,' and saw a smile spread from her eyes to her lips, and at that moment he realised that she was beautiful. 'Bella!' he added, drawing on his limited store of Italian.

  Her smile widened, but she shook her head and pointed to her own chest. 'Non Bella, Rosa.'

  It took him a few seconds to comprehend. 'Rosa? Your name is Rosa?'

  She nodded and pressed her fingers to her chest again. 'Rosa.'

  He patted his own chest. 'Ranulph.'

  She frowned. 'Ray …'

  'Ranulph. I'm Ranulph.'

  'Raynolfo!'

  He chuckled. 'Not quite. Ranulph.'

  'Raynolfo,' she repeated, nodding.

  They both heard stumbling footsteps approaching and he put his fingers to his lips. The footsteps passed their hiding place, stopped, and then they heard the sound of someone pissing copiously against the wall nearby. Abruptly, they were both seized with a fit of giggles, and he pressed her face into his shoulder and buried his own in her hair to stifle them. When the footsteps plodded away again, he realised that he was in need of similar relief and conveyed it to her in mime. She nodded and stayed where she was, until he had done what was necessary. Then he took her hand and led her back to the hall.

  The scene that greeted them was redolent of the drunken debauch of the night before. Most of the men were still sleeping amidst the debris of chewed bones and empty wine cups. Some of the women were asleep, too, arms and legs thrown wide in abandonment, gowns hitched up to their waists or ripped to expose their breasts. Three women were moving among the chaos, gathering up the remains of the food and trying, ineffectually, to bring some order to the chaos. The hall stank of stale wine, vomit and sex.

  Ranulph turned away, sickened, and pulled Rosa out into the fresh air. As he did so, Hildred appeared from the direction of the well, shaking water from his hair.

  'By Christ! That water is cold enough to freeze the devil's balls, but it's a sure way to clear a hangover.' He stopped and punched Ranulph on the shoulder. 'No need to ask how you spent the night!'

  Ranulph felt himself blushing. He said awkwardly, 'This is Rosa. Rosa, this is Hildred – amici mio.'

  Rosa ducked her head and gripped his fingers tightly. Hildred laughed. 'Introductions, is it? Well, we are moving in courtly circles!' He made an elaborate bow. 'My lady, I am honoured to make your acquaintance.'

  Roas giggled and pressed closer to Ranulph. Leofric came out of the hall. 'Oh, here you are! Well, I told you I'd saved you the pick of the bunch. I hope you're duly grateful. Hildred, go in there and kick that lot awake. We ride as soon as the sun is up.'

  Ranulph realised suddenly that he had eaten nothing since noon the previous day and he was ravenous. 'Is there anything to eat?'

  'Come inside. We'll see what we can find.'

  He followed Hildred back into the hall. Men were stirring now, and the women were getting to their feet, pulling their clothes straight as best they could. Hildred grabbed one by the arm and indicated that they wanted food and very quickly Ranulph found himself holding a cold pork chop and half a loaf of yesterday's bread. He looked round for Rosa and was disturbed to find that she was no longer beside him. He went back outside to look for her. As the light grew, the villagers were beginning the task of rebuilding their lives. He saw that the bodies of the men who had been killed in the fight the day before had already been removed. Women and children and a few men, who had presumably had the presence of mind to hide when Leofric and his men rode in, were moving among the smoking remains of the cottages, salvaging anything that might be useful.

  Hildred came to find him. 'What's up? Are you sick?'

  'No, not now. I was thinking about these people. What will happen to them?'

  'Oh, they will rebuild. There's plenty of wood down there in the forest and they still have their livestock – well, give or take the odd pig and chicken. They make flour for bread from the chestnuts, did you know that? They'll survive.'

  'It just seems hard, when they haven't really done anything wrong. It was only their lord and his men at arms who were to blame.'

  'It's always thus,' Hildred said grimly. 'You and I have good cause to know that. And at least we can take some satisfaction in the thought that we've rid the world of a monster who preyed upon innocent travellers. Pilgrims on their way to Rome will be able to pass safely from now on.'

  A hand touched Ranulph's arm and he turned to find Rosa standing by him with a bowl full to the brim with goat's milk, so fresh that it was still steaming in the chilly dawn air. She held it up to him and he took it gratefully and swallowed a long draught. He gave it back to her, indicating that she should drink some, but instead she offered it to Hildred, with a small, shy curtsy.

  He took it and grinned at Ranulph over the rim of the bowl. 'Well, you've obviously made a big impression. Lucky dog!'

  Ranulph looked at the girl and saw that she had put on a gown of wool dyed a deep reddish brown, a colour that he knew from his friends in Bruges came from steeping the shells of chestnuts. With her tawny skin, so different from the creamy tones of the girls he had known in Flanders, she seemed wrought of the same materials as the forest below and he had a momentary fancy that she might be some woodland sprite in human form.

  Men were staggering out of the hall now, heading for the well and the midden to relieve themselves. Leofric reappeared, shouting for them to get their horses saddled, and Ranulph realised that he had not seen Silver since he slipped from the saddle the night before. There were stables at the back of the keep, and there, to his relief, found his mare tied up with the rest. He stroked her nose remorsefully.

  'I'm sorry, girl. I forgot to water you or feed you. I don't deserve to have you.'

  'Quite right,' said Hildred, in the middle of heaving the saddle onto Bayard. 'Luckily for you, someone caught her before she wandered off and I saw that she had what she needed.'

  'Thank you,' Ranulph murmured humbly.

  Hildred tightened Bayard's girth and turned, one arm hooked round the pommel of the saddle. His gaze, meeting Ranulph's, was kindly. 'Was that your first proper fight, yesterday?'

  Ranulph dropped his eyes. 'Yes.'

  'And your first girl?'

  Ranulph felt the colour creeping up his neck. 'Yes,' he mumbled.

  'Quite a day!' Hildred said with a chuckle. Then, more seriously, 'Well, all I can say is, you've good reason to be proud of yourself.'

  Ranulph looked up, glowing, but before he could speak Leofric gave the order to mount up. He rode out into the yard and found Rosa waiting there with a small bundle in her hand. With a wrench, he realised that he had got to say goodbye to h
er. He leaned down from the saddle and took her hand.

  'Adio, Rosa.'

  To his surprise she gripped his hand and tried to pull herself up behind him. He shook his head at her, 'No, no!'

  'Si!' she insisted. She let go his hand and clasped her own two together. 'Rosa, Raynolfo; Raynolfo, Rosa!' And she gestured with her clasped hands towards the road that led down the mountain.

  'Looks like she wants to come with you,' Hildred remarked helpfully.

  'But she can't, can she?'

  'I don't see why not.'

  'She may have family here, mother, father …'

  'I don't see anyone trying to hold her back, do you? It's possible she has no one left.'

  Ranulph looked down at Rosa, who stared back at him with a desperate pleading in her eyes. His heart lifted at the prospect of keeping her with him, but he still hesitated. Leofric, waiting impatiently, swung his horse round.

  'Do you want the girl, or not?'

  'Yes, if … '

  'Then get her up behind you. We can't wait around all day for you to make up your mind.'

  Ranulph reached down and held out his hand and she seized it with a cry of joy and with a spring and a scramble pulled herself up to sit behind him and wrapped her arms round his waist. Leofric gave the order to move and they rode out between the smoking remains of the village and into the forest. All the way, Ranulph expected someone to run after them, or at least to protest, but nothing happened and once they were among the trees he began to relax. It was pleasant to feel Rosa's body pressed against his back but he still could not quite believe that she was going to be with him permanently. None of the other men had women with them, although he knew that some of them went off to the whorehouse whenever they camped near a town.

  They found Paega and Aldred waiting where they had left them, with the spare horses and the mules, and there was a joyful reunion, with a great deal of good humoured chaffing at his expense. Even the sour tempered cook seemed ready to accept Rosa's presence in their midst without question.

  'Can she ride?' Leofric asked.

  'I've no idea.'

  'Better put her on one of the mules. You can lead her. You don't want to tire Silver by having to carry two of you – not that the girl is much of an extra burden, by the look of her.'

  Rosa accepted the transfer without demur and they set off along the route that had been so rudely blocked the day before. When they camped at nightfall she immediately began to make herself useful, fetching water and firewood, even helping Paega. Aldred had used the waiting time to go hunting and had shot three rabbits for the pot and Everwin had had the presence of mind to stuff a ham into his saddle bag. When the meal was ready they discovered that it also contained boiled chestnuts, which was an improvement on Peaga's usual thin stew. Rosa seated herself close to Ranulph and ensured that he got some of the choicest morsels. At bedtime, she snuggled down beside him on his straw pallet and he wrapped his cloak round them both. They did not make love. It would have embarrassed him to attempt it with five of his companions snoring a few feet away in the tent; but it was good just to feel her there and know that he was not alone.

  Late the next day they saw the walls of the city of Lucca ahead of them and found the rest of the army encamped on the flood plain of the Serchio river which encircled it. Vermeulen greeted them with relief.

  'We had begun to believe that you had perished in the snow, or turned back and were drinking and whoring somewhere on the other side of the mountains. We waited for you, but you are lucky to find us still here. If it wasn't for the festivities, we should have moved on this morning.'

  'Festivities?' Leofric enquired.

  'In Christ's name, have you lost track of the date? You're just in time to join us in the cathedral for midnight mass. Tomorrow is Christmas Day!'

  11.

  Rome 1084.

  Ranulph slashed downwards at a hand that tried to seize Silver's bridle and saw its owner stagger back, blood gushing from a severed wrist. A mounted assailant charged at him from the right, lance levelled. He touched Silver's side with his heel and she pirouetted to the left, so that the attacker overshot; then, as the mare came full circle, Ranulph came up behind him and, while his enemy was still struggling to bring his horse under control, he spurred forward and cut sideways, left to right, across the man's neck. The sword bit into the mail rings of his coif and he collapsed out of the saddle.

  Five months of siege warfare, with plenty of opportunity for training sessions with Leofric, and regular skirmishes with forces allied to the Pope, to relieve the tedium, had honed his muscles to a level of fitness he had never previously imagined. He had grown again, and was now as tall as any of his compatriots, most of whom stood half a head taller than the mercenaries of other nationalities. His horsemanship had improved, too, so that he no longer needed his hands to control Silver, but could direct her movements with the pressure of his knees and calves.

  This was another of those inconclusive skirmishes, this time against the forces of the Countess Matilda of Tuscany, who was one of the Emperor's most intransigent opponents. Having disposed of the immediate threat, Ranulph looked about him. For the moment he was in a clear space, but a short way off a cluster of the enemy, some mounted, others on foot, were surrounding a group of English mercenaries who had formed a circle and were attempting to hold a shield wall to protect someone, or something – a fallen comrade, most probably. Ranulph spurred towards them. At first, the attackers were so intent on battering at the shield wall that they did not hear him coming; but at the last moment two of them swung about to confront him. He put the one on his right out of the fight with a thrust to the throat. At the same time he kicked out with his left foot and caught the other one under the chin, snapping his head backwards and probably breaking his neck. By this time, one of the mounted men had turned his horse and was bearing down from his left. He just had time to throw up his shield to deflect the lance, but the weight of the blow unbalanced him and he found himself on the ground, amidst the turmoil of trampling feet. He rolled and got to his knees, slashing at mailed ankles, and somehow managed to gain his feet. After that, it was a grim battle of sword against sword, kicking, slamming his shield into oncoming faces, dropping one man only to find another coming at him. But his intervention had caused enough distraction for the pressure on the shield wall to be relieved and the defenders took their opportunity to carry the fight to their opponents. The attackers saw that they were outnumbered and prudently decided to break off the fight and run for it, leaving several of their comrades wounded or dead.

  Ranulph wiped his sword on the cloak of his last victim and looked around him. For the first time he saw who it was his colleagues had been protecting. It was Vermeulen, the captain of the mercenary force. He was on his knees, helmetless, and bleeding from a nasty gash on the scalp; but as Ranulph watched he hauled himself to his feet.

  'My thanks to all of you. My life would have been forfeit if it were not for your courage.' His gaze fixed on Ranulph. 'Who is this young man, who has wrought such havoc with the enemy?'

  Leofric was leaning on his shield, panting. 'His name is Ranulph, sir.'

  Vermeulen beckoned. 'Come here. It is to you, more than all the others, that I owe my life. Your name is Ranulph, yes? Ranulph what … of where? You must have some other designation.'

  Ranulph shook his head. 'No, sir. I own no home, no parents, no other name.'

  'Then I shall give you one, in recognition of your prowess. From here on you shall be known as Ranulph Ironhand.'

  His comrades gave him a ragged cheer and Ranulph stepped back, blushing, his heart throbbing with pride.

  Back at the camp Rosa was waiting for him. She threw her arms round his neck, half-laughing, half-weeping with relief. It was the same every time he returned safely from battle, and as always she had a cup of wine ready to quench his thirst and warm water to bathe his cuts.

  Hildred came over and slapped him on the back. 'You should be doubly proud of
him Rosa. He has made himself a hero and earned a new name. He is called Ironhand, now.'

  She shook her head. 'Not to me. To me he is gentle. His hands are kind. He needs no other name.'

  She had stayed with him faithfully all through the siege, caring for his needs, mending his clothes, sharing his bed. It was good to feel her close to him in the night, and even better when they could find a little privacy to make love. He refused to take her in the presence of other men, though they were not all so delicate. Many of them had acquired women during the course of the siege and it was not unusual to wake in the night to the sound of their energetic coupling, but he always sought out a sheltering barn or burnt out cottage where they could be alone.

  That evening they were just about to settle down to their meal when two of Vermeulen's men came over to their fire. They were carrying something strung on a spear and covered with a cloak.

  'Which is the one they call Ironhand?' one asked. Ranulph recognised him as Vermeulen's second in command, a man named Janeck.

  'Over there,' Leofric pointed.

  They advanced to where he was sitting. 'Captain Vermeulen sends you this. It was stripped from one of the men you killed and is rightfully yours, according to the laws of war.'

  He flicked off the covering and revealed a hauberk of ring mail. Ranulph stared. 'Mine?'

  'Yes. Won in battle. Take it.'

  He tilted the spear and the hauberk poured to the ground as fluidly as water and with a sound like the tinkling of bells. Ranulph scrambled to his feet and picked it up. It was beautifully made, the rings fine and closely knit. 'Please thank Captain Vermeulen for me. I am deeply grateful.'

  'It's no more than you deserve,' the man said. 'Try it on.'

  Hildred helped him to lift it and slide it over his head. It was heavy, but once he had it on the weight was distributed around his body and not hard to carry. He gazed down at himself. He had often looked at armoured men and envied them, and wondered how they came by such costly accoutrements. Now he knew. There was a bag with it, and inside he found a mailed coif and chausses stitched with metal rings to protect his legs.