by Smith, Skye
"Come out," he ordered in French, "I will not harm you." There was no response so he spoke again in English and then in Welsh. A very young woman inched forward out of the shadows.
"My husband will kill you for this," she said in a voice too meek for the brave words.
"If your husband is the knight of this manor then you are a widow," replied Raynar. He expected her to cry or to scream or to faint, but she was quiet and still. "Where is your husband's treasure?"
She looked at the aging man in front of her. He was dressed in the Welsh way and yet he was not Welsh. He looked tired and angry and wild. She looked at the strange sword pointing towards her. It was so thin and shiny. "I will show you," she said and moved sideways along the wall and then crouched to the floor. "He thought I didn't know, but what else have I to do when he locks me in this room for hours, but to explore everything." She spoke in purest French. She was pounding her hand on a narrow floor board. She then pushed hard on it and something went click, then she pulled a square of the wooden flooring up and then crawled backwards out of his way and away from the hole in the flooring.
Raynar reached into the hole and pulled out a double saddlebag. From the heft and clink he guessed that it contained silver coins. Perhaps twenty pounds. The only other things in the hide were a small purse and a dagger. The dagger was plain, so he must have kept it there in the case that he was forced to open his hide. The purse contained a woman's jewelry.
"The purse is mine," she said, so he threw it to her. She was taken completely by surprise at being given her purse by this outlaw and her eyes widened in shock and disbelief, and though she tried to catch it in mid air, her reactions came too late and it landed instead in the folds of her shift. It was difficult to believe that this strange man had not questioned her word, and that now she once again possessed her mother's dowry.
"Is there anything else in this room that is portable and valuable?"
"The candlesticks beside the bed are booty from a church," she replied. "They are silver and gold. If you need portability there is nothing more."
The woman was now standing between him and the light from the doorway. She was wearing nothing save a thin shift, and the light was shining through the fabric. He sighed and wished he were younger. "Dress for riding and bring a cloak and a change of clothes," he ordered. He watched the shadow of her womanly curves beneath the shift as she opened a trunk and pulled out her clothing from it and piled them on the bed. It was a big trunk. "Do you have any decent clothing that will fit the woman Gysel?"
She went back to the trunk and pulled out more clothing and another cloak, and held them out to him. He took them from her, and then stood, waiting to watch her dress. "Non," she said, "go and bring Gysel and we can both dress with privacy." She was loosing her fear of this stranger. He was acting with common sense and was therefore predictable.
Her request was sensible enough, so he handed the clothes back towards her but unconsciously forced her to stretch towards him to reach them. She was not very pretty, but she was young and healthy and well figured, and he enjoyed watching her move through the shafts of light. With no more excuse for delay he turned on his heel and walked out of the chamber, through the great hall, and outside into the bright sunlight.
In the yard, Gysel had everyone's attention. She had left the protection of her brothers arms and was walking towards the young farm hand who had fetched her. She slapped him hard across the face and then kneed him in the groin. As the lad doubled up, she pulled a curry-comb and a pair of sheers from his belt. She dropped the comb to the ground as she walked in her strange and clumsy gait towards the stable master. Once in front of the man she bent and used both hands to pull his britches down. He grabbed her by the hair and the throat, but Brunt had been shadowing her, and his knife was at the stable master's throat in an instant.
The stable master released Gysel and in one quick movement she grabbed hold of his penis in one hand, pulled it away from his body, and cut off the end of it with the shears. The man howled in pain and shock and Brunt pushed him over backwards to keep him from attacking his sister. Two of the other bowmen rushed forward, no longer watching Gysel. They nocked arrows and aimed them at the big man who was rolling on the ground clutching at his groin.
"Leave him," she said, "he has gelded enough animals to know how to take care of his own wound." She looked down at the bloody flap of flesh in her hand and threw it towards the chickens that were scratching near the well. The other farm hands were backing slowly towards the stable. "He is next," she said pointing.
Brunt began walking towards the lad. "Not the lad," she said, "he was just a curious virgin trying to prove himself to the others. The red head." The short red headed man howled in fear, but there was no sense in fighting against bows. She made short work of gelding him with her shears, and then walked towards the next man.
"Enough," yelled Raynar as he trotted across the yard towards her.
She turned and pointed the bloody shears towards him. "Enough," she screeched at him, "Enough! How many times did I plead enough." She looked down at the bloody flesh in her hand. "How many times did I want to bite this off, but was afraid of the beating I would be given." She threw the grizzly flesh to the chickens and looked at Raynar with fire in her eyes. "You can tell me enough once you have been gang raped every day for two moons. Now stay out of my way."
"The knight and two of his men-at-arms are dead," said Raynar in a soft slow voice. "Is that not enough? We are wasting time. The young wife in the house has decent clothes for you. Go and dress. We must be gone soon. We must get you both away from here before more Normans arrive."
"Brunt told me how he killed the knight. Of the other dead, was one a bald, piggy man?"
The youngest of the bowmen answered, "Yes, he had a broken back and a smashed skull."
She smiled at the news of the pig's death. Her smile turned into a grimace and she walked towards the next man. The man soiled himself and whimpered. He was covering his crotch with his hands so she threw the shears hard at his face. "I'll go and dress," she said as she turned and wobbled towards the great hall. Brunt made to follow her, but Raynar motioned him away and followed in his place saying, "You get the kitchen working on packing up food and ale. Leave the other farmhands unbound so they can tend to the geldings."
Raynar waited a moment in the great hall before knocking on the broken door of the knight's chamber. He was told to wait a moment. He waited until one of the women pushed the door open. They were both dressed for riding and each had a neatly rolled cloak and a large saddle bag. The open trunk was now almost empty.
The young widow stepped forward and said "She cannot ride astride because of her bruises. She will have to ride sitting side saddle behind me." She looked older and more formidable when she was dressed. This time she spoke in French tinged English so that Gysel could understand the meaning. She was taken aback when the man began to pat at her clothes. She almost screamed when he reached inside her bodice and moved his hands across her breasts. But she did not scream, for he pulled out one purse from one side and another from the other side.
Raynar looked into each purse and gave the one with the jewels back to the young widow. The other contained small gold coins worth at least five pounds of silver. He looked at her and she shrugged and blushed.
"Payment for my clothes," she said pointing to Gysel.
"Should I search you in other places?" he asked. Her blush turned more scarlet, but he could not tell if it was from embarrassment or from anger. She turned half away and lifted her skirts and produced another purse. It contained larger gold coins and a few colored gemstones. He waited for more, but she shook her head.
He took out his own gold purse and added the gold and gems to it and stashed it away again. From his belt he took his silver purse and put a half dozen silver coins in each of the widow's now empty purses, and gave one to each of the women. "Just in case we get separated," was all he said.
He turned to go, but
the wife held him back with a gentle hand. "My name is Jeanne," she said, "and yours is Raynar, no?"
Together the three of them walked through the house and into the glare of the yard. The farm hands had saddled the two gentlest mares from the stable. Raynar gave the two bags and the cloaks to one of them to tie to the saddle of one mare, and then he ordered the other man to help both the women onto the other mare. "Gysel must ride side saddle on the back," he told the man, "for some reason she is badly bruised on the legs."
The man gave Jeanne a leg up first, but when he turned to lift Gysel, Brunt pushed him roughly aside and lifted her himself. The farm hand put his forehead against Gysel's leg and said, "Forgive me." She kicked him in the face for his trouble, but when the man rose again from the dusty ground he was wearing a smile and said "Thank you." Raynar could only shrug at what he had just seen. He would never understand Romanized Christians and their relish for empty forgiveness.
They rode out of the yard through the gate, and almost as soon as they were through, the three men at arms they had left alive on the highway ran from some covering bushes through the gate and slammed and barred it. Gysel had Jeanne turn the horse and return to the gate. She yelled at the top of her lungs, "I will be back to geld the rest of you." The bowmen had stopped to wait for them, and jeered at the men hiding from this woman.
"Damn," said Brunt, "I was hoping to meet those three again along the highway. So be it, which way now?"
"Back the way we came until we are out of sight of the manor. Then north east, otherwise we will have to do a long detour around Shrewsbury," replied Raynar.
"Are we not waiting for the couriers to return to Arundel? Don't they need escorting back?" asked Brunt.
"No need. Arundel will be in the king's hands by now. The couriers were just to show good faith to Belleme before they surrendered. They had no choice. We soured their water and their wells. It was surrender or die of some plague. Better to surrender sooner, while you are still healthy."
"So why did they need an escort, if they were not important?" asked Brunt.
"It is not important that they return to Arundel, but it was vital that they get through to Belleme. They carry the news of Arundel's defeat, and of how strong the king's forces were, and that the king was healthy again, and that the Welsh were deserting him, and that the king had raised the fyrd."
"So now where do we go?" asked Brunt.
"To Chester, to help raise the fyrd, and to push the sheriff there to take to the field," Raynar replied. "And these women, what do you want for them?"
"I think we should ask them," Brunt replied and slowed his horse so that the women's mare came abreast. "What is your wish, sister? Where should we take you?"
"I thought we could be together," Gysel said with a quivering voice.
"That is not possible right now, love," Brunt replied, "I have eaten the king's salt and he demands my services for the near future. We must think of a place where you will be safe until this civil war is finished."
"What civil war?" asked Gysel.
"The Earl of Shrewsbury and some other lords have rebelled against King Henry. The armies are gathering for battle."
"You are a king's man, and you came this close to Shrewsbury. Are you a fool. You are in danger. You should not have come for me." Gysel blurted out.
"She can stay with me," said Jeanne, "in my manor. Both my father and my husband are now dead so my father's manor is now mine."
Raynar interrupted, "Then you have two manors, Jeanne, your father's and your husband's, at least until you are abducted and raped by the next knight that covets your wealth. How far is it to your father's manor?"
"Roger," Jeanne said, "my husbands name was Roger. I may have two manors but this one is useless to me. It is too close to Bestune which is home to a half dozen manor lords and knights. I would be taken and forced to wed within the week. Umm, let me think. From Bestune to Shrewsbury is less than three miles. My father's manor is in the hamlet of Hesleie in the Baschurch Hundred, about four miles north of Shrewsbury, but you don't have to go through Shrewsbury to get there. No, you wouldn't want to do that. Go east of north until we ford the River Severn, and then go North. Once we are on the north bank, I can find it for you."
They rode around the quarry until they reached the knight's corpse. The summer flies and the raven's were already gathering on the horses. "Buggers left him in the road," Blunt blurted out. "He must have been well loved by his men."
"Shush, man," scolded Raynar. "He was her husband."
Jeanne's mount was skittish around the smell of death, but she coaxed him close to Roger's corpse, then she spat on it. "Bastard," she yelled, "the only thing I would wish more than his death is that it could have been by my hand."
She blushed when she saw the youngest bowman looking at her in shock. "My father died three months ago in a riding 'accident' while hunting with Roger. He raced back to our manor to tell me the bad news, and by that night I was tied to his bed in Bestune. Within the week he had title to my father's manor by the grace of the Earl."
"Then he may have men there," suggested Brunt. "Are you sure it will be safe?"
She though for a moment, spat on her husband's corpse again, and then replied. "I haven't been to Hesleie since, but Roger told me that he kept my father's steward on to work the place and he that he was living there still. We will be safe there. The manor is far from any highway. There will be no men at arms to protect us, but that means there are none to prey on us either. We will be safe enough. My steward will watch out for us."
Gysel was quiet. She was staring at another of the corpses. Then she asked Brunt, "I see that you have beheaded one, but not the right one, not the bald one, and not the master of the evil. Help me down and I will do them both."
Brunt looked at Raynar for help. He did not know what to say to his sister. Raynar dismounted and handed Gysel his light Damascene sword, and as she walked towards the bald man he turned to Brunt and said quietly "It matters not to these men, but it may help her to heal."
Jeanne heard his words and said, "Then perhaps I should do Roger."
"No," Raynar cried out, "Not if you are a Christian. Priests do not forgive wives that kill their husbands, only husbands that kill their wives."
"But he is already dead," she said.
"It would be the same to a priest." Raynar looked around at a metallic sound. "Besides, it is too late. It is done." Gysel had finished her grisly work and now was leaned into her brother's chest weeping. Raynar walked to them and uncurled her frozen grip from his sword and then took it to the closest body to clean the gore from the blade on the clothing of the corpse.
Brunt lifted his sister up behind Jeanne and then mounted and rode beside them. The two men that had ridden ahead to scout the roads were waving for them to come, and come quickly, so all mounted and hastened towards them.
They had found a cartway leading north east, and there were no fresh tracks upon the surface. Raynar trusted their decision and fell in beside the youngest of the bowmen. The lad's face was white and drawn. "Tired lad?" he asked, knowing he was wrong.
"No not tired," the lad said. "We just killed horses and men, and that did not bother me, it was necessary. But just now when I watched Brunt's sister hacking at their necks. Well, something about it made me feel queasy."
"Lad, never regret that feeling. It means that you are still right in the head. If you ever see something like that and it doesn't make you queasy, then stop soldiering immediately and forsake weapons."
The lad looked at this old bowman that led them and wanted to ask if it had made him feel queasy, but instead he said "I will try to remember your words."
* * * * *
* * * * *
The Hoodsman - Revolt of the Earls by Skye Smith
Chapter 18 - Finding safety in Hesleie, Shropshire in August 1102
The small group of bowmen reached Jeanne's manor at Hesleie an hour before sunset. It was an old Mercian manor that had not been upgraded
in the ways usual to Norman lords, save for a pale wall and a ditch surrounding the main buildings. The thatch roof was over aged, but the wall had been recently renewed with new poles in places. The yard gate was old, but the locking bar was freshly cut.
As the gate was open, they rode into the yard and came to a stop where the steward was talking with some farm hands. He first looked concerned at the Welsh cut to the bowmens' clothing, but then made a joyous yelp at the sight of Jeanne. He walked over to her mare and first lifted Gysel down, and then Jeanne. He sent one of the hands to the kitchen shed to announce guests for the night, and then turned to the bowmen and asked Raynar in Welsh who he was.
Raynar had time to think of an appropriate answer while the steward was busy welcoming Jeanne. He spoke to the steward in French tainted English so that all could understand his meaning. "Jeanne's husband has been killed. The other men at the manor were out of control and a threat to these women so we brought them here. It was on our way."
The riders all nodded at the wisdom of Raynar's explanation. Overall it was the truth but with vital details missing. Raynar continued, "There are armies gathering on the border of Shropshire and Staffordshire. The king on one side of the Severn, and Belleme on the other. The Welsh army is making its way back to the Welsh border, and will be raiding farms along the way. They will take treasure and horses if you do not hide them. They are not taking slaves, and they are trying not to spill blood."
"You still have not told me who you are," observed the steward, "Why is an old and educated Saxon, probably from London, wearing Welsh clothing and traveling this close to Shrewsbury without stopping there?"
"That is too long a story to tell before we loose the light of day for chores and bathing. Since Jeanne is now a widow, she owns both manors. As thanks for our help she has invited us to stay until morning. The other woman is her maid Gysel but she has had an accident and needs a bed immediately."
