by Smith, Skye
They dressed and grabbed their weapons and pole-paddled down the middle of the channel in a boat. They would see what they could see from the safety of the boat in mid channel before they committed themselves to landing. She had brought some boiled eggs and they ate them as they glided along the water.
Everything seemed calm so they landed on the other bank. He nocked an arrow and they walked cautiously between the huts. He had expected to find them all asleep on the floor of the huts.
Most were in the huts, yes, but few were sleeping. They were mostly curled up into fetuses and were whimpering and crying. Some had found clothes, others had spent the night naked and were now shivering and scratching at themselves frantically. They had angry red rashes on their thighs and crotch.
Raynar took a count at each hut. There were five missing. One they found floating in the channel, face down. Another had bled to death while trying to cut off the itching skin. One was wandering around the huts talking to himself in three different voices. The last two missing men were never found.
On their 'all clear', a boatload of women glided over the channel. Three other women arrived mounted on Norman horses. Inka asked the three mounted women to fetch the men from the dryland village.
Raynar called up to the mounted women, "The men have a prisoner of mine. Have them bring him to me." He stroked the nose of one of the horses. She was a fine and expensive horse. He and Inka watched them ride away. They rode like men and were sure in their saddles and of their horsewomanship.
"The village will give you a black Frisian stallion as a thank you, Raynar."
"I will keep my mare, thank you."
"That nag."
"She is a good friend and I have trained her to be still, so that I can shoot my bow from her back. She is not fast but she can run long. And most important, she looks like a nag, so I look like a farmer. A fine horse would make men envy me and would make the Normans notice me and suspect me and they would want my horse.” Raynar described yesterday's battle to her, and how he had been able to walk Abby right up to the group of Normans and loose two shots before they realized that he was a threat.
Inka motioned him back to the boat. "You are very young, Raynar, but already there is a depth of knowledge in you that belongs in an older skin. I heard you speak French to the Normans. What other languages do you speak?"
"I grew up on the border between Mercia and Yorkshire in a mining town. In my boyhood I learned to speak the Welsh of the miners, the Saxon of the porters, and the Danish of the shepherds. The French is recent. Last winter I was a boatman on the Thames when the Normans took control of that river. I learned it so I could listen to their gossip."
"Have you killed many Normans?"
"Yes, many Normans, and many Norse. I have been in battles against both."
"And so young."
"I am a bowman, not a shieldman. I worked for an Abbey, not a warlord."
"You are Christian."
"I made Christian noises to keep my work," he admitted, "but I found that their desert god was too far away from my reality. Where I live the evil gods are the storms that rake the peaks. The good gods are the Sun that warms you after the storms, and the life spirit that is in all animals,” he reflected.
"Well spoken," Inka said, "It is the same here. What use do we have for a god of parched lands here in the Fens. Chief amongst our gods is Freyja, the Moon goddess. She controls all water. The tides, the rain, anything that repeats with the moon cycles, like fertility and love."
"I have heard of these tides when I was near the river Ouse, but I have never seen them. I did not know that they were of the moon goddess."
"Did you know that women and female animals are all controlled by the moon?"
"No," he said.
"They are. You would be wise to remember that."
"Is this channel effected by tide?"
"Here at the island, no. Not unless the winter wind blows a high tide towards us. Our channels are fresh water, not salt, but be warned. Only drink from the well in the center of the island. Oh, and only shit in the pits on the far side of the island, otherwise the next surge will poison our well.” She waited for his acknowledgement before continuing.
"The waters around the island are close to springs and streams, so they flow with fresh water, but they do not flow quickly. Closer to the sea the water is half fresh, half salt and that marks the edge of the tides. That water is brackish and sour, but filled with life. It is the birthing grounds of many sea and river animals, and insects. Closer still to the sea there are true tidal channels that empty and fill. The bottoms are sticky mud and sometimes a mix of sand and mud. There are places in our marshes that can suck men down and under."
"I like your island. It is a special place."
"There are many islands in the fens, but few with land this high above water, and even fewer so close to the edge of the Fens with a forest and dry land close by."
Raynar stopped rowing with his pole and they glided to a stop mid-channel. They watched the sun come up through the mists and turn the still water golden. "When the Normans come back ... " he was not allowed to finish.
"The Normans won't come back," she said forcefully, "they will be too afraid."
He revised his thought to match hers. "When you visit a Christian village or town, with a Norman priest, you must pretend to be Christian. Their priests demand it. They burn women who speak for the goddess."
"This is old news. It is already legend in our culture. The largest of the Fen islands is well south of here. It used to be the centre of Frisian culture, drawing from many clans of women. The Christian priests came and they hated the old goddess, so they built an abbey on the island so as to claim the in-common land for themselves. Then they spread their own god's stories about hot and waterless lands. The women folk moved away."
She held her arms out to the morning mist. "Does this look like a land where a god of hot and dry has any power? Now no one lives on the big island except the monks and some seasonal fishermen. The fishermen only go there because it is the best place to fish for eels. Ely."
He began to paddle with the pole again, and brought them to the bank of the island. There was a group of ealders waiting for Inka's report and she gave it before leaving the boat. "They are much as we expected though two are missing and two are dead. They are in agony of mind and body. I have sent for our men. If these Normans are to make it back to Peterburgh, they will need help, and guidance, and even horses to carry them."
Raynar held up his hand so that they would look to him. "Kill them and bury them somewhere secret, or let the eels have them. The Normans will be angry at their death, but they will be even angrier at this torture. Please believe me.
You seem to think that the Normans are just more raiders from the sea. They are not raiders, to be frightened into choosing easier villages to pillage. They have come to take your land. All of the land. Their way is that everything belongs to a land lord. There way has no land left in-common. There is no such thing as shared. They are here to be your lords. To make you their slaves. Sending these men back to their lord will only make them more determined to conquer you. And if that means killing every one of you, then that is what they will do."
"Thank you for your help, Raynar, but the council has decided already," said an ealder on the bank.
"When the men arrive to help," sighed Raynar, "they will bring with them my prisoner from yesterday. I wish to ask this man questions, and I want truthful answers. I do not want him to see what has become of the other Normans before I question him."
"It shall be as you asked, and more. We have a spiced ale that makes men silly with drink very quickly. You may use some on your prisoner."
Raynar saw women eating outside a large hut. He stepped ashore and went to join them in the food. He sat down between two women he did not know, but one got up and gave her seat to Roas. After a few moments the other woman gave her seat to Inka. Roas stopped eating and asked, "Does it bother you that wome
n want your company, Raynar? They do don't they? Women are always seeking your company."
Raynar did not answer. He was thinking as he chewed on some delicious, thinly sliced and crisp smoked salted pork. It was food for the gods. "What is this meat called?"
"Spek," replied Roas.
Inka spoke next. "He has children somewhere, by women who are not his.” Raynar flushed red. "Ahhh, I am correct then." The table of women grew quiet to listen to the words of their Seer. She spooned some brambleberry mash onto fresh bread. "Yesterday when I first saw him, my first reaction was: I would love to have a son like him." She chewed some bread while Raynar blushed some more. "This is how women see him ... as the son they want to bear." There were some ribald comments from the other women, but finally they all murmured their agreement. "Is it any wonder, then?"
"Is what any wonder?" Raynar took a long slow drink of well water to cool his head.
"Is it any wonder that they try to have sons by you?" Roas said softly.
"You are jesting with me. I am just a man."
"You are not just a man," replied Inka. "As you age, you will become a leader of men, but you are already a leader of women. Women want to follow you, want to be with you, want to be smiled at by you." She ate some more and was quiet. "If I were the leader of this village, I would kill all of those Normans and make them disappear, just because you asked me to."
"Then why don't you?" asked Raynar.
"Because I am not the leader. I am the seer. The council leads this village. Klaes is the speaker of council, because he is our warlord and leads the men on the ships or in battle. He will be here soon."
"Will you be witness to the questioning of my prisoner?"
"I will," said Inka.
* * * * *
When the men arrived, led by Klaes, the women hauled the bridge back into place. Raynar had taken a boat and was already on the other shore to meet him. They gripped each other's elbows as do allies of past battles. "Klaes, did you bring my prisoner?"
"I did." He yelled at a man in behind all the horses, and a man wearing a hood backwards on his head was dragged forward by the noose around his neck.
"I want you and Inka to be witness to my questioning him. We must question him before you decide what to do with the rest of these Normans."
"So be it. Lead on," said Klaes. They led the Norman by his leash.
They settled in a hut, and Inka arrived shortly with a small aleskin. Raynar asked the Norman to drink deeply of it. The Norman was suspicious, but drank it. It took less than a half of the skin before the man was humming happily to himself. Raynar began asking questions in French and then translating for Klaes and Inka. He first asked easy questions that he knew the answers to, which were answered truthfully. He then switched to more important questions.
"Why did you choose this village?"
"Last week in another village, we were told that this village has the finest breed of horses and cattle, and that every woman is beautiful. We were told that all the men were at sea. They lied."
Klaes wanted to know the name of this other village that had marked them, but Raynar told him he would ask it later.
"Why did you kill the people in the village?"
"They were Danes."
Raynar kept his temper under control. "They were not warriors. They had no armour, no weapons."
"They were Danes," repeated the Norman.
"I know your orders. You are to search for horses, slaves, and women. You are only to kill men with armour or men that fight."
"The new sheriff changed those orders," the Norman replied. "The new orders are that Saxon villages are to be left alone except for taking the horses. Danish villages are to be destroyed. All horses and cattle and comely women taken. All men of age, killed."
"You mean all warriors killed," stated Raynar.
"You know nothing, peasant, so don't correct me. I know. All Danish men of age are to be killed. They are all warriors. "
Raynar translated the conversation. Inka motioned for him to continue with the questions.
"If we send back the rest of your men alive and on foot, what will the sheriff do?"
"They would be disgraced. He would send them back with more help to win back their honor."
"And if they couldn't come back because of their injuries?" asked Raynar.
"He would send every man he could spare and he would burn the crops and burn the village and burn the surrounding villages and he would kill everyone. And then he would send criers to each market to brag about what he had done. He would promise the same to any village that fought him."
"And if the men did not come back at all?" asked Raynar.
"The same. There is a new law. The Murdrum. If a Norman is killed or disappears in a village, that village is forfeit. My lord does not need this village. He will take everything and then destroy it."
Raynar translated again and then was silent. He felt panic in his stomach. He wanted to weep.
Hereward’s men had been riding far and wide telling villages to hide their horses, hide their women, hide their armour and weapons, and not to fight. Most of the villages were Danish. With these new orders, the Dane men that listened to Hereward would be slaughtered without a fight. They would not die in battle and go the Woden's hall of valor. They would die as sheep.
No one was speaking. The Norman was gently snoring.
"Klaes," Raynar touched his arm. "I need one of your riders to take a message to Hereward at Burna. He must know of these new orders. He must warn the axemen of the Danelaw before they are slaughtered like sheep. I will go and write the message now."
"You can write?" Inka asked in amazement. "No one in our village can write more than their name."
"Before you send such a message, ask the same questions of other men. Hereward needs to know the truth," cautioned Klaes.
"Have you seen the other men? Their minds are destroyed. But I will try. Are you two coming?" They nodded and the three of them crossed in the boat to where the Normans had been settled sitting in a circle with their hands bound behind them.
They looked amongst the Normans for even one that looked calm. They found one, but he was only calm because he had lost his mind completely. Over by where the horses were tethered, Raynar saw a white plume on a helmet, and he walked towards the horses and saw a swollen corpse lying on the ground. He held his breath and turned it over. The shaft was broken but the stub of the arrow was still poking through the mail over the heart.
"Your arrow did that. Went through mail?" asked Inka.
Raynar simply nodded so that he wouldn't have to breath. He patted around the body looking for purses. There were none. This corpse had been searched before. Just beyond the corpse there was something light-colored stuck in a bramble bush. He walked over. It was paper. He scanned the paper for words he understood. He spoke some French but had not written or read it before. Luckily they used a similar alphabet to English. He sounded out the words to himself.
It took a long time, but finally he understood. The paper was a writ that empowered the knight to enter any Danish village, take anything of value, destroy anything he wished, and kill any man. It was valid for Danish villages only and did not apply to Saxon villages. It was signed by the sheriff of Peterburgh.
"Who is the sheriff in Peterburgh?" asked Raynar. "Do you know of him?"
"I know only what I have heard while trading," replied Klaes. "Peterburgh was one of the first with a Norman sheriff, before other towns."
"So Peterburgh is a large important town?"
"No. Not so much," Klaes replied. "They say there was some problem with the abbey there, or the abbot. The abbey is one of the richest in the land. The monks chose a new abbot without the permission of King William. Abbot Brand, Hereward's uncle. They asked permission from Edgar Aetheling instead. So William sent his own man to garrison the town with the title of sheriff. Now he is rebuilding the burgh walls, and the new abbot is paying for it."
Raynar translated the
writ to the others. Klaes's hands became fists and he told him to hurry with writing his message while he arranged for a messenger.
"This sheriff is arrow bait," mumbled Raynar to himself. He walked across the bridge to the island and to the first hut. He searched his pack and found a scrap of paper and his quill. He wrote some simple words, wrapped them around the rolled up writ and wrapped everything in leather and tied it with a thong.
Klaes came close with a giant axeman who was to be the messenger. He gave the leathered scroll to the axeman and told him, "This is for Hereward. He should be in Burna. If he is not there, then wait for him. Put this into his hands. Do you know Hereward?"
"I know him well. He lived here once. We were shipmates together. I will find him. If there is no one to read it, what does it say?” Raynar unrolled it and read it to him. Then he read the writ to him.
"Should I bring his answer back here?" the giant asked.
Raynar looked at Klaes and Inka. They nodded. Raynar answered, "Yes, to here. Stay safe, friend, for I want to talk to you again when you return."
He moved closer to Inka and pointed across the channel. "After reading this writ, I have changed my mind about the fate of those Normans. They should be returned to their lord as they are. Walking naked, injured, and insane. I want to be there. I want to watch them return, and watch the reaction of the Normans to them. I say we tie them across their saddles and lead them to the outskirts of Peterburgh, and then tie them together and let them walk into town."
Inka looked at him suspiciously. "Why the change of mind?"
"Because thinking of Hereward made me think of how he trained me to be a skirmisher when we fought the Norse. The winning way was to kill the leaders. Those men there are just men, like the rest of us, and we could be them. Without money or orders they will do nothing. The evil they do is caused by the man who wrote this writ, this sheriff of Peterburgh. I would see him, and if given the chance I will kill him. I am hoping that he will inspect these men when they arrive. "
