Hoodsman: Revolt of the Earls

by Smith, Skye

  "He is upset. He goes to confirm his orders." said one of the two.

  "Then he is going the wrong way. He should be going back the way we came." Raynar whistled and saw Osgar's head swing around and look towards him. He pointed to the lone commander and gave the wolfs signal to capture him, and then another signal to kill him if he won't be taken alive. Osgar signaled his understanding and then the scouting party turned and raced overland to cut the commander off.

  Raynar looked towards the bowman who had spoken to the commanders, "Our scouts have other duties," he said calmly, "please take their place." The man shouted over his shoulder and a dozen men came to him and they galloped eastwards.

  The two commanders stared at him, and stared at the line of carts turning at the cross. Raynar wound around the next cart and stopped beside them. "Make yourselves useful. Take the lead. In about two miles there is a ford over Cound Brook. We will water the horses and take a break for food there." Raynar crossed back across the line of carts and waited on the south fork for signs of the scouts returning from their chase.

  When about two thirds of the carts had turned a wife yelled to him asking why they were turning instead of heading straight south. She even had the carter turn south but he soon corrected his course when he saw the look in Raynar's eyes. She was one of the two looter women. "None of your concern madam," he yelled to her, "but mostly because this cartway has a smoother road bed."

  When the rear guard arrived, he told them in detail what had happened. They were to be vigilant for any riders that seemed to be following, and to watch for the returning scouts. He then kicked his horse to speed and rode along the column to gain the lead once more.

  He was delayed at every second cart explaining the turn and by the time he reached the lead again, they were almost at the ford. The autumn rains had not yet broken, so Cound Brook was shallow and sluggish. Crossing with fifty carts and hundreds of horses was churning the bottom into a muddy quagmire. The mud was sticky enough that the cart horses could not be allowed to stop and drink for fear of the cart wheels sinking.

  Eventually each cart horse had to be helped by side riders to make it up the bank. The worst time was had getting the cart of the looter woman up the bank, but there was much horsepower to spare so the delay was only moments. Once across, the carts stopped in a lush meadow with good grass for the horses, while the cart horses were unhitched one at a time and led back to the water.

  Raynar could not shake a feeling of unease. He had learned never to distrust his gut, so he sent scouts to the cross about two miles ahead where this cartway crossed a Roman street that led southward to the fork north of Stretton. He ate some mouthfuls of food and swigged some ale, but without tasting anything. He was focused on the road behind them, watching for the return of Osgar and his scouts.

  They hitched up and started off again before any scouts arrived to report, either from ahead or behind. If they kept the same speed, they should arrive at Huvel Hagen at sunset, or at least the hour of sunset. With the billow of towering clouds behind them, they had already lost the sun. His hope was that the castellan at Bridgnorth had been wise enough to extend his garrison to secure both ends of the pass through Wenlock Edge.

  There were two scouts waiting for them at the Roman crossing. One was from the scouts that were leading the column. They were pressing on towards Huvel Hagen to ensure there was safe camping near the pass. The other scout was sent by Osgar from the south.

  "We never caught the fucker," reported Osgar's scout, "he had a damn fine horse and he was willing to run it to death to stay ahead of us. Since we couldn't catch him, Osgar decided to follow him to see what he was up to. He ran straight into Stretton and met a large patrol there."

  "What kind of patrol?" asked Raynar. He had one eye on the other two commanders watching for any sign of betrayal.

  "Not Welsh like the last time we wus there. They wus mostly Normans. They sent men after us, so Osgar, he sent me to report. I knew I would head you off if I kept to the Roman street. Osgar and the rest scarpered up the ridge so they could keep an eye on the buggers."

  "But you said they were being chased. How could they stay in view?" asked a commander.

  "No one is likely to follow Osgar up that ridge so long as they's still got arrows, is they. Naw, they's safe enough, and from the ridge they can shadow them, unless they travel the street in pitch black."

  "If they are after this column," said Raynar, "Then they will be on this street and not far behind this scout. I know the ridge Osgar is on. It angles away from the street. The patrol can move faster towards us than our own scouts. Whistle the wolvesheads to me lad." he said to the scout. The lad put two fingers in his mouth and let loose a piercing whistle.

  The men who gathered to him were all wearing colorful scarves. Raynar described their situation to them and asked for suggestions.

  "So you're saying that a big patrol of cavalry may or may not be coming up this street to make trouble for us."

  "Yes," replied Raynar, "and we can't run for it. These carts are too slow and the pass is too far, and besides, we don't even know if there is a friendly garrison at the pass until the other scouts report back."

  "Well if we can't run for it, then the answer is simple. We have to slow them down." The scout slid from his horse and used the end of an arrow to draw a simple map in the dust. Most of the other men slid from their horses too, so as to see him draw it.

  "Less than a mile south of here on the street there is another fork to the east near the hamlet of Acton. That fork meets this cartway east of here near the hamlet of Harley which is almost at the pass. Good camping in Harley, there is. It's on the brook that follows this side of the edge and eventually joins the Severn. Anyway, the Acton fork is surrounded by some good woodland. Not a forest mind you, not that big," he made some more scratches in the dust.

  "Well, it's obvious int it," said the scout "These Normans are running late, so they will use the Acton fork. If we put a wolfpack in those woods, we can delay them at least long enough for the carts to reach Harley ahead of them. If there is a garrison at the pass, then we are safe. If there is no garrison then we circle the carts and make a defensive camp. If there are no Normans following us, then we've lost nothing cause the scouts in the woods can use that other fork to reach Harley."

  A couple of the wolvesheads were patting the scout on the back, and Raynar was about to as well when he heard a shout and the sound of swift hoofs. He looked around in time to see one of the commanders kicking his horse to speed and running down two bowmen who were trying to stop him. The bastard was riding straight south down the Roman street.

  "Shoot him," Raynar yelled and everyone was suddenly reaching for bows and quivers or swiveling while nocking arrows. Raynar was also nocking. Allowing the two remaining commanders to hear these plans had been a test of their loyalty. The bastard making a run for it had stayed mounted when all others had slid from their horses, so Raynar had strung his bow and kept it with him, and some heavy arrows, while he watched the scout draw the map.

  "Duck," he yelled as he used his shoulders to draw his Seljuk bow. The men in front of him dropped to the earth or dived to the left or right. The stupid bugger of a supposed archer commander was riding straight away from him. No dodging, no lateral runs.

  He loosed, and loaded, adjusted to what the first arrow had told him about the wind, and loosed, and loaded, the first arrow missed to the right, the second arrow seemed to be lifting in the wind, he loosed, and loaded, the second arrow was a yard too high, the third arrow seemed true, he loosed the fourth just as the third hit the man in the right shoulder, the man turned sideways in the saddle. He could see other arrows from other bows now, on the left and on the right, and then one struck the horse in the rump, and then his fourth arrow dug deep into the small of the man's back just above the back of the saddle.

  The commander was now wounded and trying to keep his horse running at least until they were out of range. He wasn't going to make it. "
Hold your arrows," Raynar called out. "Go and collect him."

  It was too late to hold the five arrows that were already in flight. Three of them hit the man, and one hit the neck of the horse. The horse seemed to twist sideways in mid air and the man was flung out of the saddle and landed hard face first on the ground.

  The first rider reached the man and waved back that he still lived. Raynar swung himself onto his horse, signaled two bowmen to disarm the remaining commander, and rode to see to the body lying in the dirt.

  He slid from his horse while it was still moving and squatted beside the body. The man had crawled to safety away from the writhing horse. The horse's muscles were in spasm and it was making a lot of heart wrenching noises. "Kill the bloody horse quickly to shut it up," he ordered. A bowman finished it with a dagger through the eye, and got bitten for his mercy.

  "Speak man, you are dying. Are you of the old religion or are you Christian? Do you want a weapon in your hand or a cross?

  "My sword, any sword," the words began as a breathless whisper but ended in a scream.

  Raynar put the hilt of his Syrian sword so that it touched the man's fingers. "Why? Who? We are trying to send these families safely to their husbands. Why the betrayal? Who bought your honor?"

  The man gripped the sword hilt and for just a moment his eyes cleared. "Arnulf ... mistress ... gold" he croaked, but the effort finished him and he was dead.

  He took back his sword and stood with it raised above his head and yelled to the sky "Woden, he is yours, send the Valkyries." He turned and faced the other bowmen. The youngest ones were crossing themselves and giving him strange looks. The older ones were smiling at him or spitting into the dirt.

  "Gather the arrows, check him and the horse for weapons and purses, and then leave him where he fell" he told the men around. They were all silent. He climbed into his saddle and rode the two hundred paces to where the last of the commanders was sitting on the ground. He yelled to one of the wolvesheads "Get the column moving again, and keep it moving," then he motioned the other wolvesheads towards the commander.

  Raynar slid from his saddle and sat on the ground facing the commander. "Who is Arnulf and what interest does he have in these families?"

  At the mention of the name, a wave of fear crossed the commander's face. He took some deep breaths to calm himself as Raynar repeated the question. The breathing calmed him. So what if they know Arnulf's name. Many know the name and the man. He decided to cooperate just a bit. "Arnulf is Belleme's brother. He brought some of his father-in-law's Irish warriors with him to Shrewsbury to help Belleme."

  "And why this column?"

  "He wishes to rescue them and take them to Ireland so they will not be killed, or held for ransom." replied the commander.

  "How did he escape Shrewsbury?"

  "They were never in Shrewsbury. They were marching from their Irish ships through Wales. They were blocked at the border by the fyrd and the Welsh. They could not cross until the fyrd were sent home."

  "They were waiting for us in Stretton?"

  "Yes"

  "How many mounted, how many on foot, how many archers?"

  "I don't know. Some are Normans, some are Irish, that is all I know. I have not seen them. We, the three of us, were with Belleme's men at Bridgnorth. When William Pantulf changed sides we changed sides with him. Belleme wanted us to him to keep an eye on him."

  "So you admit to being a spy?" voiced one of the wolvesheads. The commander stopped talking and refused to say more.

  "Right, we know enough to plan the rest of the day. The column makes for Harley," Raynar turned to the wolveshead beside him, "You take your pack and the scout and set traps in the woods to slow this Arnulf down. Those are your orders. Slow them down. I don't care if you kill them, but they are not to kill you. Tie your horses at the Harley end of the woods and leave one last trap to give you time enough to escape to Harley."

  The wolveshead grabbed him by the arm in the way of warriors, and then climbed into his saddle, held his bow above his head and rode in a wide circle yelling to his men.

  The scout grabbed Raynar by the arm and said "Too bad Henry isn't here. He would enjoy being part of what we are about to do in those woods." Then he laughed and whooped and mounted his horse with one leap and rode to catch up to the wolfpack.

  "Young men, they are so eager to fight." Raynar said to the men around him.

  "Were you any different when you were his age?" asked the commander.

  "I suppose not," he said slowly while memories flooded his brain. A second walked by him, and he grabbed him by the arm and pointed to the commander. "Tie him to his horse and take him to the front of the column." He mounted, and rode along the column looking for the courtesans. Their cart was in the lead again. While horse and cart were still moving, he rolled out of his saddle and into the straw of the cart.

  "There was too much dust at the end," pouted Marique, "so we asked Harold to start our cart moving early so we could move back to the front." The carter turned and gave him a big grin at the mention of his name. He had lip paint on his cheek.

  "Ladies," Raynar began.

  "Ahh, so now it's ladies no, not harlots, or whores," interrupted Marique, "You must need a favour. Which of your heads needs caressing?"

  "I need a favour, yes," he replied. "I have a prisoner, a spy, who knows much about an army of men led by Belleme's brother Arnulf, who is a threat to this column." He had the attention of both of the women now. "I need to know how many men Arnulf has, and how many are mounted, and how many are archers, and I need to know why he wants to capture these families."

  "We know Arnulf," said Annette, "When he visited, Belleme would give us to him for the night, ... you know, as a gift. He is not as cultured as Belleme, but his interest in women is, shall we say, more normal. Or perhaps, just more easily satisfied."

  "He refuses to say more to me for he thinks he has already given too much away. If I have him bound and thrown into this cart, could you see what you can find out. You must promise to tell me what you find out word for word. All our lives, including yours, depend on it."

  "We will make room for him and see what we can coax out of him." confirmed Annette.

  * * * * *

  * * * * *

  The Hoodsman - Revolt of the Earls by Skye Smith

  Chapter 36 - The race to Huvel Hagen, Wenlock Edge in September 1102

  The scouts who had been sent to Huvel Hagen, met them just outside Harley. Their report was all bad news. "The pass has no garrison, and neither does Harley," a scout told them. "I suppose them at Bridgnorth figure that the road is so wide now and cleared of places for ambush, that it is no longer a danger to travelers.

  Harley is deserted. The buildings still stand, but tens of thousands of fyrdmen and horses must have camped there during the march from Bridgnorth to Shrewsbury, and there is not a green plant to be seen anywhere, and no firewood. The water in the brook is fouled, probably by dead animals up stream."

  Those in the lead of the column all said "shit" at the same time. With the sun behind heavy clouds it seemed like twilight, but there was still an hour of grey light left before nightfall.

  "Send some scouts down the Acton cartway," Raynar said to a second. "There is a wolfpack in Acton trying to slow the Norman force down. If there are Normans close by on that road, I need to know it quickly."

  "What do you think?" Raynar asked his wolvesheads. "It is still eight miles to Bridgnorth. That is at least four hours more. Two of those miles will get us through Huvel Hagen. There is only one hour of light left. Cavalry swords and lances beat bows in the dark."

  "Keep going," was the unanimous answer. "The hour gets us through the pass, and then we can use ambushes in the pass to slow the buggers down," voiced one of the seconds, "The problem is water for the horses. If Harley's water is fouled then where is the next water?"

  "The other side of the pass," said the scout lead, "two miles."

  "So be it," said Raynar, "keep them m
oving. Every cart has a water barrel. If the horses start flagging they can be given water from those barrels." He rode towards a second. "Ride to the rear. Have the men pass all their pikes back to the rear guard, and tell the rear guard to be expecting either one of our wolfpacks, or a cavalry charge of two hundred Normans."

  * * * * *

  The wolfpack rode at speed south down the Roman street to reach the fork at Acton with all haste. There was no sign of any other men at the fork so twenty dismounted and unloaded their weapons and tools, then the ten still mounted led all the horses eastward from the fork towards Harley. That cartway was their escape route.

  The men with the horses began making a Sherwood fence to serve as the last trap should they need a fast escape. The men at the fork began felling trees to drop across the street south of the fork. Those without axes kept to the east side of the street and moved further south.

  Two of the lads from the horses were tromping and hacking a diagonal trail through the woods to give the men on the street a direct, quick, and safe path back to the horses. They used whistles to keep their headings and finally came out of the deep shadows where the men without axes were digging potholes in the road surface.

  With the trees felled, the street was blocked just south of the fork. The wolveshead walked between the working men telling them to stay on the east side of the street, and telling them to target the leaders. If the man was not a good target, then shoot his horse, especially if the horse was moving fast.

  Ten men waited by the potholes, ten at the felled trees, and ten with the horses by the Sherwood fence. They waited silently and out of sight. The wolveshead moved between the hidden men warning them not to take risks, just loose their arrows and then run.

  The smallest of the lads at the potholes was boosted up a large tree trunk so that he could climb to the top and keep watch. It was he who saw the approaching scouts. He climbed down the branches and leaped the last space to the ground. "Three scouts. They will see the trap."

  The wolveshead cursed, then called the local scout towards him. "If they cannot reach this fork, is there another way for them to reach Harley?"