by Smith, Skye
John was reclining against a warm rock enjoying the sensations of sun and Gwyn's hand. "Reward stick? Is that what women call them?"
"Well, it is an easy reach for a woman's hand when she wants to reward a man with more than just a kiss."
"Oh, yeh, I suppose. Why Widowpleaser and not Womanpleaser?"
"In Wales you are a girl until you have a child, and then you are a woman and a wife until you become a widow. Once a girl has pushed a baby's head out, she gains the wife's curse that her own man no longer seems big enough, and she wishes each time forever after that he were bigger. Yours is every woman’s dream, but to bed a wife is dishonorable, so you must only bed widows. So it is a Widowpleaser."
She rubbed her petit body the length of his as she climbed up it to be face to face so she could kiss him on the forehead. "We could make good business, you and I, by renting you out to rich widows. Raynar tells me that the kingdom is filled with rich widows right now because of all the battles."
She watched him and when she saw that he was seriously thinking about it, she added, "Of course only the old and ugly ones would not object to your face." They laughed together. Her tinkle and his bray. "You must be careful with girls like me John. You must give us time to prepare for you, and then you must let us be on top and guide you in and let us push rather than you push."
"Stick to sheep, John, they don't make all these conditions," laughed Raynar who was drying in the sunshine not three paces away.
"Go and count your bows, Raynar Porter," she called to him, "I need to show John something. No, don't even think of splashing us. Go, I mean it. Give us some privacy."
It was more than an hour before she came to the cart, and put down an armful of deadfall that the had gathered for a cooking fire. "John is sleeping in the sun. He has a lovely smile on his face." She pushed Raynar's hug away. "I will have to ride on the cart tomorrow, for I will still be too sore to walk." She caught Raynar’s glance "It had to be done. He had to be shown how to be gentle. His next girl with thank me for it."
"He has been with women before and was taught many things by them." Raynar kicked at the deadfall she had just dropped beside the fire ring.
"Women, yes, but not girls. Alehouse sluts, earning his coin as quickly as possible."
"No, a respectable woman with children," he was defensive.
"Ah, so some wife, cheating on her husband. She already had children. She would have gorged herself on him. Bitch."
"It wasn't like that." answered Raynar.
"Ah, then it was one of the miner's widows from our glade. Which one?" She smirked knowingly. The widows of the glade had been pressed for coin this past winter.
"I am not talking about this anymore." Raynar and Gwyn were now eye to eye.
"She had you both, didn't she?" Gwyn teased and laughed.
"I am not talking about this anymore."
"A cheating wife had you?" Gwyn had stopped laughing and her tone was now serious.
"You're jealous. You're jealous." said Raynar in a childish defense, trying to stop the questions before she found anything out about Britta and Sonja.
She slapped his face hard, and stomped off back towards John, but she turned and glided back to him. She had not dressed yet and was simply wrapped in a length of linen. Her sleek shape was outlined by the sunlight.
She spoke softly and slowly "When I sleep with men, I use a herb that keeps me from being with child. When you ask me to not use it, I will stop, and then I will sleep with no other man but you." She did not wait for an answer. She spun on her foot and marched towards John. After all, she had to clean his clothes to match the newly clean man.
He whispered to her retreating back. "Hereward was right. I know nothing of women. And each time I think I have learned something, I play the fool even worse." He found his flint to light the fire and as he gathered tinder, he thought, "I was right. She was jealous. But how could she be jealous of me when she was just humping John." He shook his head at the logic of women, and started clicking the flint with his knife.
* * * * *
Springtime in this glen was delightful, and they did not have far to go to the next fete, so they stayed an extra day beside the pool. To Raynar, the glen was a magic place of wild peace and such glens were common here in the North.
In the South they were rare. There were too many farmers there, and too many villages. In the South, a glen with a pool such as this would have attracted a few huts or even houses, and eventually the trees would have been cut, and the water dirtied, and the game killed, and the place would smell of dung and offal.
He was absolutely still while he watched a new fawn being led towards the pool by it's doe. Gwyn was walking slowly just behind the animals looking for herbs and fungus. Though she was upwind of the doe, and the doe was aware of her, it was not worried about her presence.
He had known Gwyn for all of his grown life and he could not remember ever seeing an animal run from her. Yet suddenly the doe flicked her ears, and ran, with the fawn on her heels. Raynar turned towards the movement, and saw another. Something flashed in the bush behind Gwyn.
Raynar cupped his hands to his mouth and warned John with a bird call, a skirmisher signal. The big man came around the end of the cart with his giant bow and an arrow already nocked. They both began moving stealthily towards Gwyn. Gwyn was still looking at where the doe had disappeared.
They heard a cough and a man dressed in verderers green stepped out of the shadows near to them. He had not reached for the selfbow that he carried over one shoulder and he called to John, "Ease your string. We mean no harm." As he said this another forester walked out of the bushes behind Gwyn. Gwyn did not seem surprised. Together, she and the other man walked towards the camp, talking and with the fairie girl showing him the size of the fungus she had just picked.
The men were some local lord's verderers. They kept an eye on this glen to ensure none of the local lads were taking deer in the fawning season. Locally this was known as the fawn glen, because it was a favourite with does. Verderers had be guarding fawns here since before time began.
They had hardly reached the camp before Gwyn was inviting them for fresh fungus soup. When they eagerly accepted her kind offer, she moved towards the fire ring and poked the fire to life.
One of the foresters inspected John's longbow with a keen eye. "So you are the archers from the match at the fete. We've been looking for you. We did not hear of the match until it was too late." As an explanation he added "We spend our days in the forest, so we don't hear much news."
He pointed at the other forester. "He would have won had he been there. We were told of your Welsh bows, so we came to see them." The conversation about bows and arrows and staves and shaping and point design continued until they were called to share soup.
These were good men to know, and possible new members for the brotherhood. Raynar decided to have some fun with them. "From the look of you and your bows, I have to admit that both of you would have probably won prizes at the competition. Tell you what. If you can use a longbow to put an arrow in that fat tree over there" he pointed to a very wide Oak only forty paces away "then we will give you each a bow."
The men laughed and wondered why he just didn't give them the bows now.
"John, pass them your bow and a few arrows." He held up his hand to John's objection. "Now John, don't be selfish. Let them use it. It is our best bow. Fair is fair."
John and Raynar howled with laughter as the men were belittled by John's bow. It took both of them to string it, and even then, neither could draw it more than a foot. Both did hit the tree, however, so John gave them each a normal sized long bow and a few long arrows.
As the good humour washed away the slight of their pride, even the foresters began to laugh. Their new longbows looked small compared to John's bow. The day passed pleasantly while John taught them about their new bows and about the design of his points. John even gave them two seasoned Ywen staves so they could have a try at shaping
a Welsh bow for themselves.
The two men were much intrigued by Gwyn. When they saw her by the pool they had thought her a child. They were in wonder at her being a mature woman of such small size. Their village was all Danish stock and the women were big and robust and fair. Gwyn was small and wiry and dark. They asked her if she was a magic elf, from the legends.
She tugged their beards and told them that all the elves she had ever met were much smaller. They didn't know whether to believe her or not, until John laughed aloud. They were loath to leave such fine company, but they finally did leave, and disappeared into the trees as silently as they had arrived.
* * * * *
* * * * *
THE HOODSMAN - Hunting Kings by Skye Smith
Chapter 19 - Archery Matches, Nottinghamshire in May 1067
The extra day in the glen gave them a chance to think about and to prepare for the next match.
"We are charging too little to enter the match. It should be a silver sixpence," Gwyn said looking up from her sewing to interrupt the chatter between the two lads.
At their first fete, there had been a maypole dance, and a may queen competition. The girls of the village had all dressed in their best, and decorated themselves with chains of spring flowers and bright ribbons, and had skipped and danced and sang and teased all the men with their beauty. Gwyn, on the other hand, had been dressed in her work-a-day homespun, and a woolen bonnet.
Before leaving the fete, she had bought herself some colorful remnants of cloth, and it was these that she was now cutting and sewing on to her homespun, or shaping into ribbons. She wanted to look gay and festive and pretty, like the other girls.
"She is right Raynar," John agreed. "There seems to be a lot of coin about. I think the fyrdmen must still have coins in their purses from the defeat of the Norse army. Most of the men in our match were fyrdmen."
"There was a lot of coin being spent. The alehouse was doing a roaring trade. I was expecting the winter to have taken everyone’s coin, like it did in the glade," Gwyn answered.
"When one man spends a coin on a side of pork, another man earns that coin. The coin is still there, just in another’s hand," said Raynar, "What if we have two matches. The morning match for everyone with tu’pence. But then have a separate afternoon match for a shilling entry. "
"A shilling!" Gwyn laughed at the thought. "No one would enter. Why, when they can have a match for tu’pence?" These two lads were so thick sometimes.
Both the lads replied simultaneously "The gamblers" They looked at each other, and John continued. "The gamblers will press their favourite archers to compete. Even at our first match the other day, there were wagers being laid in the crowd. It was friendly, for sure, and a way for fathers to show their pride in the skills of their sons, but it was there. The gamblers were there.
The first match will draw all the archers into it, and the gamblers will be able to judge the skills. Anyone with skill will be in the second match, whether they have the entry fee or not. Their supporters will give them the shilling. The prize will be as nothing compared to the coin that will change hands between sore losers and proud fathers in the crowd."
"So will the prize be the same?" she asked. "A bow and three arrows with heavy points to the winner and a stave and one arrow to the next best two?"
The men were silent. John said, "Since they paid a shilling to enter, they will expect the prize to include a purse. We would be tarred and feathered if we kept all the coin."
Raynar thought aloud, "In the tu’pence match we will keep all the coin, for that would barely pay for the prizes from our cart. In the shilling match, the winner gets a third, the next two split a third, and we keep a third."
"For that they would tar us, but not use the feathers," laughed John, and tickled Gwyn so that she would laugh with him.
Raynar did some more thinking. "Hmm, how about the winner gets a half, the second a quarter, and we keep a quarter. The bow, stave, and arrow prizes as before." They all agreed.
"Yesterday there were boys that had the skill but no bow equal to the match. We should loan the contestants bows and arrows if they have need," Raynar suggested.
"Where is the profit in that for us?" asked John.
"Ha. You forget yourself John. You want to profit from your arrowheads, but I did not come to profit from my bows. I want to put them into the hands of the best archers, profit or no. Yesterday we made enough to feed us, but not enough to pay for cost of horse, cart, and bows. The other merchants thought it a strangely bad business. At the next fete we should have shillings in our purse, perhaps enough to keep replacing the bows that we give out."
Raynar paused to point at the sun star, Venus, just visible in the sky, and each of them sent a prayer to it. "I think we have solved the competition, but that is not enough. We need to set up a display of the steps it takes to make a bow. There is a ywen tree over there beyond the pool. I will gather fresh staves, but leave them unstripped of leaves and berries so that those with interest can see what tree they must look for in the woods. And John, could you carve on a few of our seasoned staves to show the sequence of steps to shape the bow. "
"A display is a good thought. A demonstration better, " said John, thinking, "The same would work for my arrowheads. I could set targets to show the difference in hitting and cutting power of my different point designs, and the difference when shot from different sized bows. I will need to buy a selfbow for comparison. And perhaps a larger bow made of ash rather than ywen. And may I show your Byzantine bow as well. Few will have seen a compound bow before."
John's mind was now busy doing what it did best, solving problems. "So Raynar, you will need the help of village boys to set up and run the match field, while I stay with the displays, and do the demonstrations."
Gwyn spoke up. "I will set up my display of herbs in the shade of the cart, so I can keep my eye on everything. The women that are dragged towards the bows by their men, will be glad of my wares. Hmm, I will run out of some of my herbs too quickly if I do not raise the prices."
"Gwyn, you are a healer, not a merchant. What if your prices are too high for those with need?"
She answered quickly. "My prices are by weight. If someone has need but can afford only a little, I will give them more."
"Do you have enough of the child safe herb?" asked Raynar.
"Worried, are you" she quipped mischievously. "Half my pack is that herb. I knew it would sell quickly. It is spring and the girls are all teasing the men."
"Gwyn," said John, "you would sell more herbs if you looked like a wise woman. Yesterday you looked like someone's innocent little sister. How can grown women take your seriously when you look like such a child."
"I hear what you are saying John, I need to look like those Rune readers that were at the fete. I have wode in my wares. I could paint some Celtic symbols on my skin and wear a scarf tight on my head and darken the skin around my eyes."
"No, no, no," Raynar told her in a loud, insistent voice, "Even though you looked like a little sister, I saw a priest watching you at the fete. And he was not staring down your cleavage."
Gwyn touched her hand to her chest. She had no cleavage. It was a mean jest.
"The Christian priests are always watching for people who know the old ways, and they are quite eager to punish them. Stay with your innocent look, Gwyn. Pretend you are just selling cooking herbs grown in your mother's plot. You look different enough from the English Danes of these villages, what with your dark hair and your Welsh beauty."
"Best to listen to him, Gwyn," John said, "your mother must have warned you about the black priests."
"My mother had me memorize these words before I was ten," she curtsied and pretended a little girl voice, "But your worship, I have no magic powers. Only God can heal the sick and the wounded. These herbs are simply gifts from God. God must have created them to help his flock. I only deliver them to the market so that worried mothers can take them home to their sick children."
"Some cleavage would help," smirked John and Gwyn punched him above the stomach and he had to gasp for breath.
* * * * *
The archery match at the next fete was better planned, better prepared, and better run. They had forty entries for the first match, the tu’pence match, and it lasted well past midday. Over a dozen of them borrowed bows, though they tended to choose the smaller of the bows.
Johns demonstrations were a continuous draw of folk. He would show them the ywen boughs and their distinctive evergreen leaves, and tell them what soil and slopes they could be found in, and warned them of the poison in the leaves and bark.
Gwyn would caution them to respect the trees, which were sacred to the ancients, and that some of the trees were as old as the ancients. She told them that they should pray for permission to take the boughs, and to do no damage to gain a bough. She also told them that the ancients had walled and fenced the ywen to keep the stock away, because eating the leaves could kill stock.
John showed his half carved staves which showed how the bow was shaped, and how the heart wood was the strength of the bow, and the outer wood was to stop the heart from snapping. Once an hour John would demonstrate the power of the bows on common targets such as a rabbit carcass hung from a tree, and a melon wrapped in a segment of rusty old mail.
The difference in the power of a longbow when compared to a selfbow was compelling. The longbow with a heavy arrow would push the point completely through the carcass, and through the mail and deep into the melon. A light arrow from a selfbow would stick in the skin of the rabbit and bounce off the mail.
The seasoned archers were intrigued by the Byzantine bow, never having seen the like. They were more impressed that a simply crafted Welsh bow could equal or better the power of a bow that was so complex to craft.
Business was brisk for Gwyn, especially in the child safe herb. Occasionally she would motion the crowd of women away so she could talk more privately with a girl, or a girl and her mother, or just a mother. Sometimes she would cover her wares and go walk about with a woman, talking all the time.
