by Smith, Skye
"And so they played you like a fish until you named the Severn, cagey buggers."
"You shouldn't laugh," replied Raynar, "If your bowmen had not been so quick to heed the fyrd call, you and the hundred that follow us would not be in this Vale either."
"I still think we are all here because the Sheriffs were fearful of the wolfpacks riding again. They sent us on this errand to be rid of us from Cambridge."
"Enough said," shrugged Raynar, "at least they provided us with writs so that we can prove that we ride on the king's business. Do you think we will reach Worcester before dark?"
"Fucked if I know, that last tinker said we should cross the River Avon at Evesham, and then it is three hours beyond. He didn't say whether that is three hours mounted, or three hours by his cart."
"Hmm, you know," Raynar smiled at the older man, "I have snuck passed by Evesham in secret at least three times, and I have yet to see the town. These writs do count for something. This time I will actually see it."
"The writs will count for something," said a young scout who had just arrived back from riding point, "only if any of the bloody sheriff's men can read. Evesham is over the next rise, and there is a guard post on the road."
"Well, then," Raynar pulled his horse up and signaled the rest of the men to dismount and take a break. "let's not scare the shit out of them. Keep the men hidden behind this rise, while I go with the scouts to talk with the guards, and to whomever they get to read these writs."
They were taken by the guards to Evesham Abbey, which meant crossing the bridge and the damp fields of the flood plain and then up to the higher land of the church. Abbot Ethelwig was not in residence as he was visiting the bishop in Worcester, but the prior read the writs, twice, and then told the guards to make the visitors welcome in the market place and let them avail themselves of the alehouses that surrounded it. The market place was empty on this day, so the prior was well pleased with his plan.
He was not so pleased when three wolfpacks of mounted hoodsmen rode quickly down from the rise, over the bridge and took up the entire market place. The alehouses, of course, were very happy to have the off day business, and immediately sent out to the homes around for meals to sell, and for women to serve. Serve whatever.
The prior, knowing that Raynar was an educated man, assumed he was noble and came to dine with him, as did some other monks who pretended to have some function in caring for the horses.
"The town is very quiet," Raynar observed. "I see only peasants. Is it a monastery and farming town only then?"
"Not at all, however many of the lords here abouts are Norman, and Normans who fled to here from Bedfordshire the last time the wolfpacks rode. They will all have their doors barred until you leave."
The prior was quite jovial, well fed, and in his cups by the time the ale master brought the bill. He sobered quickly when Raynar told the master that it was to be paid by the abbey. In fact he almost choked on the words, and choked again when Raynar showed him the phrase in the writ that stated that all good kings men must provide succor.
"I will tell the good bishop how well we were treated here, prior."
"If you do that, then please do it when the abbot is not within earshot," the prior said as he looked again at the tally and frowned.
They did reach Worcester before sunset. The prior at Evesham had told them to search for the bishop at the abbey, as the good bishop Wulfstan was, in his heart, still a member of that order. It was not that easy. It never is. The town had a strong burg wall recently repaired and with strong and guarded gates. The gates closed before they could reach them, and the town watch stood ready on the battlements to deny them entry.
It took much talk to convince the watch to fetch the bishop, but there were not enough words in the English language to convince them to relax their guard against the arrival of three wolfpacks. In truth, it was all they could do to convince them that they were not Welsh archers sent in advance of Hereford's army.
The bishop finally arrived in the company of the abbot and the sheriff, and ordered the door in the gate opened so that Raynar could come to them and show them his writs. The sheriff still refused to order the burg gates opened, but once the phrases in the writ were read to him a second time, he had no choice in the matter.
The wolfpacks were housed in the abbey's cloisters, while Raynar and the wolvesheads were offered cells with comfortable beds. Only Raynar was invited to sup with Bishop Wulfstan, Abbot Ethelwig, Sheriff Urse, and Walter de Lacy of Shropshire.
Once the wine was poured, and pleasantries ran their course, the serious discussions began. "My men and I were the first bowmen to answer Waltheof's call to the fyrd," was all that Raynar said before pandemonium broke out around the table. When it finally calmed, Raynar told them that Waltheof had been tricked into joining earls Ralph and Roger, and was at that moment on the way to the Archbishop of Canterbury to confess all and then to Caen to explain.
"And the call to the fyrd has been answered?" asked Urse.
"By the thousands," replied Raynar, "remember that Waltheof is the last English earl. The fyrd are Englishmen. His levy was for them to protect the shires from the looting of armies, and only that. The folk saw the sense in the levy immediately, as did the sheriffs. The fyrd is to form a watch along the shire border, and if an army is seen, a mounted garrison will race out to support the watch."
"You are a long way from your shire's border, lad," said Wulfstan, "tell us why you have come."
Raynar handed him a scroll. It was Thorold’s words, written in the manner of a court document, and signed by Earl Waltheof and the three sheriffs that bordered the Fens. There was one message. That the bishop must raise the fyrd in Worcestershire and stop Roger from crossing the River Severn.
Wulfstan read it through, and then handed it to Ethelwig to read aloud, while he himself bowed his head in prayer. Once the reading was finished there was silence until Wulfstan raised his head. "This is a nightmare," he moaned. "I am a monk, a priest. I have never led warriors. I have spent my life pressing warriors for peace. And now they ask me to not only go to war, but to lead in the killing of men."
"Your grace," Raynar reached over and placed his hand on the priests clasped hands. "You are not being asked to fight, which will be done by the shire's lords and knights; nor to lead, which will be done by one of these other men more used to battle. You are only being asked to use your position as the last English bishop to raise the fyrd in this shire, which you can do in your own name for purposes of defense."
"You do no come as a mere messenger, lad, not with three wolfpacks behind you," said De Lacy gruffly. "What part do you play in this?"
Raynar held up the writs. "These sheriffs fear that Roger will cross the Severn before you can raise the fyrd and organize a watch. My men were the first to answer the call of the earl. We have been sent to help you organize and to set up the first watch camps. If we can halt Roger at the Severn then this shire will be saved from a looting, or worse, a harrowing. If he crosses, then woe be it for your folk."
"We can offer him safe passage through the shire, in return for peace." argued Ethelwig. "Roger has been a good neighbour to us, and has protected us from many a Welsh raider."
"Good, then all is settled and my long ride was for naught," said Raynar rising from is seat. "I will gather my men and leave for Northampton immediately. I am sure that Bishop Odo will be pleased by your answer, and not send his hangmen to find you."
The mention of Odo marked their faces with panic. "Hold, lad," yelled Urse, "the abbot was thinking aloud. Nothing is decided."
"There is no decision to be made," said Bishop Wulfstan quietly. "These writs have sealed our fates. We must stop Roger at the Severn, or be named as part of the rebellion. Young man, what do you require of us, that we can make a start."
"Immediately, your grace, you must send out criers to raise the fyrd to defend the shire. We need archers whose arrows can span the river, and we need pikemen to protect the archers. W
e need men with fleet horses to carry messages between the camps."
Raynar looked at the two men in armour at the table. "Sheriff, you must call on the shire's knights and lords to assemble here ready for battle. You will not be needed along the river until the army is sighted and their way marked, however, you must organize succor for perhaps a thousand men for two weeks, and the carts to carry the supplies."
He watched the sheriff's eyes become unseeing and knew he was already making his plans in his head. "Tomorrow I will need guides who know the river and the fords. Tomorrow my men will mark camps beside every shallow on the Severn, so the fyrd can be organized to watch the river."
He sat back and relaxed. The responsibility was no longer on his shoulders, it was on the shoulders of these men. They planned and argued long into the night, but Raynar barely spoke throughout it. There was no need.
* * * * *
The biggest problem that the wolfpacks had over the next few days, was that everyone had underestimated how beloved Wulfstan was. Men did not arrive by the hundred a day, but by the thousand. Most were farmers with felling axes, and lads with their father's pitchforks. Men so armed were sent home immediately. Meanwhile there were more than enough men arriving with old, but serviceable blades, still shimmering with the rainbow of oil that had protected the steel during their long burial. Unfortunately most of their bows were hunting bows, and the arrows designed for rabbit, or perhaps venison.
The men of the wolfpacks, a few at each camp, immediately began to train the fyrdmen in how to use pikes and traps to down horses. They passed out ribbons of lead, and showed archers how to cut small pieces and twist them around the arrow shafts to increase the weight. Eventually enough seasoned men had answered the fyrd, that the wolves found themselves treated more and more like unwanted outsiders in the camps.
At that point, one of the wolvesheads created his own camp on the highway. He placed it so that mounted men could quickly reach the three fords most likely to be used by Hereford's army.
The guides who had helped them plan the camps were now ranging with a few of the bowmen on the ridges on the west side of the Severn. They were watching for the telltale signs of dust or smoke that would mark an advancing army. With the fyrdmen set as watchers, and messengers at each camp ready to gallop, the wolfpacks withdrew to their own camp on the highway that paralleled the river. Using the highway they could move quickly to whichever ford the Hereford army chose for a crossing.
It was, therefore, Raynar and his wolfpacks who were first sent for when Roger of Hereford's scouts hailed the watch at a ford. The lead scout was asking for the sheriff, saying that Earl Roger wished to talk terms with the sheriff. The sheriff was still at Worcester with his Norman cavalry, so Raynar rode to the ford to stall the army.
He invited the scouts to have the army of Hereford set up camp on the west bank of the Severn and wait until the sheriff arrived. They agreed to the plan. The army arrived in fits and starts all through the day and into the night, meanwhile Raynar had sent messengers south to have more pikemen march to him to help defend this ford and the hoodsmen guarding it.
With about two hours of daylight remaining, Earl Roger arrived with his heavy cavalry, and immediately charged the ford. The wolvesheads had been expecting this of Roger, for any commander would immediately see that his bargaining position would be much stronger on the east bank than on the west.
Fyrdmen were already waiting beside the ford road and ran into place with their pikes and their large and unwieldy basket weave shields. The hoodsmen stepped into place behind them and knocked arrows. The initial charge was easily shattered. The ford was shallow by Severn standards but was still above the knees of the horses, and was wide, which was why it was shallow.
The bowmen aimed at the twenty lead horses, which turned the shallows into a maelstrom of bloody water, gnashing teeth, flailing hoofs, and splashing panic,.thus blocking the way for the horses behind them Heavily armoured men who were injured or winded by their falls, dragged themselves back towards their bank before they lost the strength to hold their heads high enough for them to breath sweet air.
Earl Roger was furious at the failure, but not sorry for the attempt. If the surprise charge had worked, the day would have been his. His trumpets blared to call the cavalry back, and then his own archers ran forward.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," yelled Raynar. The wolveshead beside him asked him what was wrong. "He has Welsh bowmen with him. They are the equal of us, and with the same bows. He called out in full voice "Shields, get behind the shields now". He kept yelling to gain the attention of the fyrdmen who were still celebrating the retreat of the heavy cavalry. A dozen pikemen sprouted Welsh arrows with the first volley, but none after. The basket weave shields did their job well, snagging arrows at the cost of the occasional wound to hand or arm.
The hoodsmen had their bows ready and were watching him, waiting for his order to shoot back at the Welsh bowmen. He refused to give the order. There was a stalemate at this ford, and he would not countenance the slaughter of good bowmen peasants on both sides, just so that the knights and heavy cavalry would not have to charge into his arrows.
The Welshmen slowed their release after about five arrows each. They were in the way of their own cavalry, and that cavalry was now charging again, and the Welsh were too busy scrambling out of the way to take good time in their aim.
"Bowmen at the ready," Raynar yelled. "Your target is horse flesh. Not the men, and not the archers. Shoot those poor beasts and then get behind your shields for their archers are bound to cover the retreat again." The first of the charging horses had reached the water, "Wait for it. Wait until they are deeper. Now, loose, loose, loose."
Fifty heavy arrows hit the first twenty horses, and within seconds another fifty, and the result was the same as with the first charge. The trumpets sounded, and this time the Welsh bowmen ran forward immediately to loose their arrows, but few of their points drew blood.
That was when De Lacy arrived with the Normans of Worcestershire, including his garrison men and a troop of the local knights. At the sight of the knights, Earl Roger immediately called his men back from the ford, and there were yells from his criers for a truce, while terms were discussed.
The bodies of horses had drifted downstream and were snagging on roots and bars. About a dozen injured riders were being carried away from the ford, while six bodies lay motionless in the shallows. They were then dragged to a grassy place where the dead cavalrymen from the first charge had also been laid out.
* * * * *
* * * * *
The Hoodsman - Revolt of the Earls by Skye Smith
Chapter 6 - Treachery at the Severn ford in July 1075
Young Raynar had his men collect spent arrows. They were the well crafted, costly arrows that the Welsh preferred. He watched De Lacy closely as he rode forward to meet the earl. "I do not trust him." said Raynar quietly to the wolvesheads. The bowman beside them who was busy sorting useable arrows from salvaged points heard him and said "I don't need to know which of them you are talking about, cause I don't trust any of them Norman knobs."
The parley began once the leaders had all gathered in midstream and had greeted each other. Raynar grabbed the nag standing nearest him and rode out to join them, pretending he was one of De Lacy's aides. He tuned his ears to the French and listened carefully. It was like listening to women in the market bargaining for turnips, only in this case they were bargaining for honours and favours, and deciding the rules of engagement. The two leaders rode upstream together, away from the bargaining of the others and they stopped on the edge of the shallows.
The hunter in Raynar forced him to walk his horse slowly to the opposite shore so that he was directly downwind of the two leaders. Downwind did not only mean that he could smell their horses, it meant that he could catch their words, though faintly. He stilled himself and his horse, to better hear. What he heard made him want to order his men to kill all of these Norman lords immediately.
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"But we cannot allow you to cross until we have made a good show of ourselves." De Lacy was saying.
"You have already. I have a dozen cavalry dead, and twenty injured including some of my finest knights." replied Earl Roger. "Just look at all that expensive horse meat."
"Then you will have to rout us in some way to force us to surrender. There is another ford a mile north of here. Tonight I will reassign the fyrd that is there. Tomorrow morning I will lead a charge across the ford and your cavalry must retreat, but you must not allow your archers to loose arrows at us. We will slaughter some of your Welshmen, but meanwhile you will have sent cavalry across the northern ford and they will cut off our retreat. When you regroup and charge, we will be trapped in the river and we will surrender. That will give you the eastern bank of the Severn and these fyrdmen will run from you."
"What about the fyrd archers. They cut us to pieces today, and that was just by felling our horses." said Roger. "We will never get across with them there."
"Hmm, yes, that lot. They are from Cambridge. I will send them to protect the next ford south. That will leave only the pikemen here. You can slaughter as many of them as you like. In fact, do slaughter many. That will give me even more reason to surrender to you. With terms of course."
"But of course. You keep your horses and weapons but swear neutrality instead of being made prisoner." added Roger.
Raynar had heard enough, and he did not want to be seen as taking interest, so he walked the horse upstream closer to where the Welsh bowmen were sitting on their haunches, chewing grass and watching the nobles in finery flirt with each other.
A few men stood as he came closer. They recognized him as the bowman that had been giving the orders prior to De Lacy's arrival. They were surprised when he lifted his right arm and made the sign for the Prince of Powys. One of them wandered closer, and still closer until he could speak and be heard without raising his voice. "What's up Saxon?"
