Hoodsman: Queens and Widows

by Smith, Skye

  Princess Nest had become a ward of the English court after her usefulness as a hostage had disappeared with the death of most of the men of her family. There was little doubt that as soon as her baby was born and off her tit, that Edith would marry her off to an aspiring sheriff. Probably a sheriff who kept a watch on the Welsh border.

  She still sent and received letters from Wales, and from Henry, and it was she who one night whispered some news into Raynar's ear that woke him from his bliss. At the time he was soothing his eyes between her breasts before falling asleep. "King Magnus of the Norse is dead."

  He stopped rubbing his eyes and nose in the warmth of her cleavage, and looked up at her, "Magnus? Dead? Are you sure?” She nodded, and he rubbed his eyes one more time against her silky skin and then pulled away from her and sat up.

  Next to the bed there was a stool, and on the stool was his weapons belt. He puffed up some pillows so he could sit up and lean against the bedstead and then he reached over and pulled his Valkyrie knife from the sheath on the belt and then sat back and cleared his mind and brought forward an image of Magnus.

  Nest's lovely, petite face showed her worry at his holding up the long tapered eel filleting knife, but he made soothing noises to her and invited her to sit back in the crook of his left arm so he could reach around and hold her left breast in his left hand. "I owed Magnus much for rescuing my Welsh friends from the Normans when they had retreated as far as the holy island of Anglesey, and I hope that he died clutching my old Byzantine bow."

  "So then I must owe him too, for it was my cousins that he rescued,” she whispered. She struggled out of his arms just long enough to light a tapir with a flint match, and then came back. Now she could see the knife. It was nothing like the warrior dagger she was expecting, but more like the plain knives that the women of her clan coveted for their usefulness.

  In answer to her look, he told her, "This was the knife of my lovely Anske, my sweet angel, my own Valkyrie. I carry it with me always."

  "You have your own personal Valkyrie?” she asked in awe. This old man's stories always filled her with awe.

  "Aye,” he whispered back, "and I hope that Magnus died with my old Byzantine bow in his hand so that he can give it to King Harald when he meets him in Woden's great hall.

  Unlike the other women of this court, she did not cross herself when he spoke of the old gods. Her people had long ago learned that the desert god of the east was just another god, and he coexisted quite easily with the life spirits that were all around so long as you ignored the priests.

  "Come closer so I can hold your breast again, and so you can hold the handle of my knife with me."

  "So it's your knife handle you want me to hold now, is it?” she giggled. "Not your man handle."

  "Aye, hold it with me and let us send a prayer to my Valkyrie to watch out for Magnus and make sure he does not forget my bow in his hurry to pay the boatman."

  Raynar yelled up to the rafters with his prayer, but Nest did him one better. She sang. She sang so sweetly about Welsh heroes dying for the cause, with her voice high and clear and sweet, that Raynar shushed his bellowing so he could listen and translate the ancient phrases to himself.

  When she stopped, he did not breathe because he did not want to interrupt the echo of her song in his mind. Eventually he pulled the knife from her grasp and pushed it back into its sheath. "Why do you never sing with the musicians that visit the palace? You have the voice of a lark. Do you play the harp?"

  "Haven't you noticed,” she sighed. "I am very pregnant. I carry a bastard. I try not to be seen, not to be noticed, never mind perform before an audience."

  "Lady, you carry the child of your King, and Henry freely admits that it is his, so it will not be a bastard, just not an heir. Only two of his many children in this palace are legal heirs. You carry the new brother or sister to all of these children. Stick out that belly and parade it about with pride. The queen wants you here, wants you around her, wants you around Henry's other children. She is creating something special here in this palace for the young folk who are the future of this kingdom. Make use of her generosity and enjoy life."

  "Enjoy it how. I see the smirking looks that the maids give me. The look the men give me. I am young and pretty and not a virgin, and therefore a slut."

  "Very much not a virgin,” he chuckled trying to get her to smile. "Edith has organized tutors for everything that any of you young folk may want to learn. Manners, deportment, languages, reading, writing, geography, and yes even music. If you wish to learn the harp, tell her. It will be so."

  He had to stop speaking and hold his breath. "Ugh, woman, what have you been eating?"

  "Excuse me, but all pregnant women fart a lot,” she giggled.

  "I have lived my life around pregnant women, and that is not normal. What have you been eating, and eating too much of? What are your food cravings?"

  "Nothing much."

  "Have you been following Maud's advice of greens, dairy, eggs and fish?"

  "Well sort of, though I chew onions with everything. Yes, I suppose onions are my craving."

  "Onions are a spice, to be used in very small quantities,” he said, suddenly concerned for her health. "Don't you know that onions are poisonous?"

  "Oh don't be silly. Just because they cause gas."

  "Feed onions to a horse, or a cow, or a dog, and they die. No jest. Onions kill them. For a horse it takes but ten."

  He walked over to the plate of leftovers from her late night snack. Sure enough there was a half eaten onion with the scraps. Using a cloth to carry them, he took the scraps to the window and looked down at the yard below. "Come and look,” he told her. She wrapped herself in the bed linen and waddled over to the window.

  "See that skinny stray dog down there, rummaging for food. Watch this.” He threw the scraps and the onion down to the dog. The dog skittered away thinking that a rock had been thrown at him, but then inched back and sniffed the scraps. In seconds he had wolfed them up, hardly chewing, until there was only one thing left. The onion. He sniffed at it, and licked it, and then batted it out of his way so he could lick the paving stones where the scraps had landed.

  "I have used onions before to cripple an enemies cavalry,” Raynar told her. "Horses are not as smart as dogs. They eat the onions and within an hour they are bloated, and then they fall over and cannot stand, and within a day they survive or die."

  * * * * *

  Edith was quick to realize that a court where young nobility could meet, and learn, and become polite yet worldly, was not the place to do the petitioning and legal business which was more usual of the courts of kings. She set aside two days a week in a smaller hall to deal with the legal business that required her approval. The petitioning court was run by the clerks, and by the Chamberlain, and most decisions did not actually need Edith's attention.

  As the palace life evolved and thrived, however, all was not well with finances. Edith had fully expected her earnings to pay all of the costs. Unfortunately the earnings from her Queen's Demesne such as the rents due to her from London's docks at Queenhithe and from those outside Aldergate, were not enough.

  That was why Raynar, in his Treasury robes, had been invited to this meeting with the Queen, and the Bishop of Lincoln, and Robert Mallet, and the clerks who kept the account pipes.

  "So, what you are saying is that there is just not enough income from my demesne to pay for running palace filled with folk,” Edith clarified.

  "Your highness, it is temporary, perhaps only for this winter,” replied the clerk. "Shipping and therefore the rent due from the docks and the warehouses, is well down from last year. So many ships went missing in that accursed storm in August, and many of those left are now docking at ports along the south coast where their cargoes are needed to rebuild in those places hardest hit by the storm. Moreover the North Sea ships are at their home ports now, as is usual in winter."

  Edith was silent, thinking, so all others kept their peace. Hen
ry had married her even though she had brought nothing but her convent smock to the union. That was how she knew that he really loved her. He did not even petition her brother, the King of Scotland for a dowry. He wanted her, and he had taken her into his marriage bed as a pauper.

  It had come as the greatest of surprises to her that by becoming Queen of the English, she had become a very wealthy woman. Many properties, and rents, such as London's docks at Queenhithe, had been gathered together by prior queens into 'the Demesne', to be passed along to the next queen. William Rufus, of course, had never married, so this wealth had been in trust since the death of Queen Matilda, Henry's mother. Surely she could borrow against the surety of such wealth.

  "Then,” Edith waved her hand, "I shall borrow from Henry's treasury."

  "Ugh,” Raynar interrupted. "My contact in the treasury tells me that Henry has taken most of the loose coin into the West Country with him. It is not that the treasury would say no to your borrowing, but that there is nothing much left to borrow."

  The other men at the table did not look up. To meet the queen's eyes may embarrass them into loaning her coin from their own reserves. Raynar reached over the table and squeezed her hand. One of the clerks saw this and gasped. A commoner had just touched her Vice-regal presence.

  "I can arrange a simple loan with no interest for you, but I must travel to Lincoln to collect it,” Raynar offered.

  The other men looked at him in shock. A peasant clerk with wealth enough to make loans to a queen. Edith simply asked, "Will you be able to borrow enough?"

  "A king's ransom,” replied Raynar. "It should be enough."

  "Whose ransom?” asked Bishop Robert. "And in Lincoln. Why don't I know anything of this?"

  No one spoke but everyone was thinking the same thing. If the Bishop had known, he would have created some pretense to have stolen it.

  "I will need to borrow Lucy for the trip,” said Raynar.

  "I will send my escort with you,” said the Bishop, too quickly.

  Edith looked around at the men. A king's ransom. Raynar was the only person in this room who she would trust with a king's ransom. "Borrow Lucy? I will not be able to stop her from going off adventuring with you. But speak no more of your plans, for the walls have ears."

  "If you do not need my escort of Lincoln guardsmen for the trip to Lincoln,” the Bishop stated, "you will certainly need them for the trip back. I will send my sergeant with you to Lincoln. He can arrange for your escort back without having to reveal any reasons."

  Edith ignored him. She wanted to very quickly, but very politely adjourn this meeting and take Ray to talk to Lucy, without the presence of these old-style Norman men. The best way was to encourage silence, until there was enough silence that she could adjourn this meeting. She kept her peace.

  * * * * *

  With just Lucy and Raynar in her bed chamber, Edith finally could quench her curiosity. "So tell us everything, Ray. I can't wait to here."

  "King Magnus of Norway has been killed in Ireland,” Raynar whispered. "It must have been by a clansman, because a Norman or any other nobility would have captured him and held him for ransom."

  "So that is the king's ransom you speak of,” Edith whispered back. She moved even closer to the other two so she could hear better. "Held somewhere, and now never to be collected. Why Lincoln?"

  "My fault,” Raynar whispered. "When I met him back in '98 in Anglesey, he was there more by chance than design. At the time he was actually on his way to Ireland to protect the villages of Norse that were being threatened by Rufus's Normans. He also had Norse villages in Cumbria in the North East and along the Yorkshire coast north of the Humber.

  King Rufus never did care much about what happened in the North of England, especially in the Danelaw. It still hadn't recovered from the Great Harrowing, and besides, it was very dangerous for Normans. The locals tended to kill them on sight without asking questions."

  Lucy laughed. "Oh, and who taught them how to do that, then,” she said in a gruff whisper as she poked him in the ribs.” She had been just a baby during the Harrowing, but a smart little girl during the Ely rebellion when Raynar was leading his wolfpacks across four shires killing every Norman knight they could find.

  "Shhh,” scolded Raynar. "That part of my past is not know in court, and I don't want it to be known.” Lucy forced herself to stop laughing, so he continued. "Anyway, Magnus had won much treasure on raids, but it was useless stuff like golden candlesticks and bowls. I told him that I knew a trustworthy minter in Lincoln who would trade gold for minted silver shillings, and the more Magnus thought about it, the more he liked the idea."

  "Well of course,” Lucy whispered. "Silver shillings can be used to pay ordinary men for ordinary things, including mercenaries."

  "What he liked most was that the shillings would have his face on them. They would be Magnus shillings. As a way of repaying him for turning the battle of Anglesey in our favour, I not only gave him the old Byzantine bow I had used to kill King Harald of Norway and Hugh Montgomery of Shrewsbury, but I also arranged for Magnus shillings to be minted in Lincoln on his behalf."

  "Again, why Lincoln?” asked Edith. She had learned never to be shocked by the incidental things she heard from the mouth of her blood father. She had already known that it was he who had killed King Harald of Norway back in '66, but not that he had killed Hugh of Shrewsbury back in '98. Robert of Belleme, Belleme the Impaler, had come from Normandy to replace his brother Hugh as the Earl of Shrewsbury. "Why Lincoln?” she repeated.

  "Ugh, north across the Humber from Lincoln is not really England anymore. It is sort of a no man's land shared by the English, the Danes, and the Norse. Magnus had a treasure buried along that coast and he trusted one of his brothers to deliver it to the minter so long as I was in Lincoln to arrange it all."

  "I still don't understand why ...” Lucy began.

  "Why I was involved,” finished Raynar. "The minter trusted me because I was a part of his lucrative banking connection to Flanders, and from there to Constantinople. I helped to arrange that connection decades ago for the Count of Flanders. Magnus did not quite trust either me or his brother, but he trusted the two of us together. Beside, he thought a lot of me after I told him why that bow was so magical. I assured him that it would gain him entry into Valhalla."

  Edith and Lucy both crossed themselves and said a quick prayer for the soul of the heathen Magnus. Meanwhile Raynar looked out of the window and saw a hawk soaring and sent a prayer on the wings of the hawk to his Valkyrie, on behalf of Magnus.

  "How much?” asked Edith.

  "Why Edith,” Raynar smirked, "you are getting more and more like a Norman every day."

  "Naw,” said Lucy, "she's just a good market shopper."

  "I don't know how much,” replied Raynar. "Not anymore. For all I know Magnus could have already sent for it.” At the crestfallen look from Edith he quickly added, "But I don't think so. The original amount I contracted for was twenty thousand silver shillings, but that was for just the first deal to make sure that everything worked out with the minter."

  Edith and Lucy both looked at him in shock. It was indeed a king's ransom. "So why do you need Lucy?” asked Edith.

  "Well for one thing, for her good company,” Raynar reached his arm around Lucy and gave her a hug. "But with her company, every door from London to Lincoln will be thrown open to us in welcome. With her company, I can call out the local fyrdmen to protect us if need be."

  It was true of course. Lucy was the daughter of Thorold, a long time Sheriff of Lincoln, and had been the wife of Ivo, another long time Sheriff of Lincoln, and was now married to Ranulf, Henry's governor of the North as well as the Earl of Chester. Her mother had been the Countess Beatrice who was well loved by the Frisians of the Fens. During the Ely rebellion, every English rebel from Lincoln to London knew to protect the Countess and her daughter Lucy.

  "I suppose you will bring the treasure to London on one of your ships,” Edith sai
d as she moved even closer to the other two so she also could gain a hug by Raynar.

  "No love, not at this time of year. It will all be by highway."

  "But, but,” Edith did the calculations in her head. "That is a half a ton of silver coins. That is not something you can just carry in a saddlebag."

  "Aye, but the highways pass through Huntingdon, and there'll be more than one of little John's carts idle for the season because the Flanders trade will be idle. One of John's carts with the metal hubs will be enough. I'll have the coins packed in ordinary casks and we'll throw some other casks on the cart to make it look like a full load."

  "It won't be safe,” Edith's whisper was harsh, and she looked from one to the other of them.

  "Love, I will do the return trip dressed as a king's tax collector. It's the death penalty to interfere with a collector on the king's highway. It will be one of John's carts, and a couple of his carters. They will be of the brotherhood. They travel the Lincoln highway all the time, and the footpads know to leave them be. Besides, it seems like the good Bishop is determined to organize an escort for us. We'll be fine."

  "Fine for you,” said Edith now looking at Lucy. "Lucy has young children. It's a big risk for her."

  "Oh, Edith, don't fret so,” replied Lucy. "The Cambridge to Lincoln highway runs through my honours. There is no where in England where I am safer. That is why Raynar is taking me along. To lessen the risks."

  * * * * *

  * * * * *

  The Hoodsman - Queens and Widows by Skye Smith

  Chapter 26 - Traveling to Lincoln with Lucy in December 1103

  Lucy had chosen some fine horses for the journey, but after Raynar had criticized them as the two horses most likely to be stolen in the entire kingdom, she took the two Frisian stallions back to the stables and selected two others. Now they riding butt ugly dappled mares who were trained in a quick stride walk that ate up the miles without breaking the riders' backs.