by Smith, Skye
Raynar had expected no less, which is why he had made no move to defend himself. The Norman would have fought any man who tried to stop him, and there would have been bloodshed. This way was better. He was bettered by a mere woman so he conceded all and without spilling blood. Norman men were so full of themselves that he would keep this meeting a secret to his grave.
With the Cambridge men gone, Raynar was again the only man in sight. The women dropped their pretence of modesty and went back to their lengths of soggy cloth in the ford. Judith also dropped the small linens she had used to protect her modesty and wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her breasts hard against his chest and whispered, "Oh master, I will serve you if you read that summons to me."
He stretched backwards to pull her feet off the ground and then spun her around. "Serve me first, wench, for you will likely be angry and selfish once it is read to you."
"Not here, not in front of the children. Stop thinking those thoughts. They are making you hard. It will scare Sylvie. She is a virgin you know.” She kissed him fully on the lips and he stopped twirling her and kissed her back. They lost themselves in each other's eyes and smiles. "Later, after the work is done."
"Then I will read you the scroll later, in our room."
* * * * *
Judith had been taught to read by Raynar, but even so she asked him to read the summons out loud to her. Her reaction was as he had expected. William, her king, her uncle, the head of her family, had betrothed her to one of his generals, Simon of Saint Liz. She was summoned to Winchester for the ceremony. In a temper, Judith threw everything that was within reach at the wall, and then she wept against his shoulder until his silk shirt was soaking.
"No, no, no,” Judith sobbed. "This is a nightmare. How dare he. He has no right. He treats me like a landed English widow to be wedded and bedded and pumped full of Norman babies. And what of my children? Will my son die by an untimely accident after I bear this Simon a son?” She stopped talking and gasped for breath. Of course. She was an English widow. Earl Waltheof's widow. A wealthy Englishman's widow made for ripe pickings for greedy Norman men.
"Just don't go to Winchester,” Raynar suggested. "There can be no ceremony without you."
"Don't be foolish. The king has betrothed me. I am wed already. To make it legal to the church all this Simon need do is bed me. He could come here tomorrow and take me on the ground in front of witnesses, and I would be his forever. What is mine would then be his. This burg would be his and this bailey. He would become the Earl of this shire. Without any doubt, that will bring serfdom to the Fens."
"Then he must never get close enough to you to bed you,” replied Raynar.
"You have been pressing me to visit Brugge for three years now,” she said. "It is time. Take me now. Take me beyond my uncle's reach."
"A good plan, but listen to the wind. It has begun again. The sunny break is finished. My ships cannot sail, no ships can sail. Not in this. But the king's knights can still ride through it."
"Then I am lost, and my son will never grow to manhood,” she moaned and began to weep again. "If I do not go to Winchester this week, then he will come to claim me. I have a week, perhaps two left. Will the storms abate by then?"
"Tomorrow I will go to Spalding and ask at the docks. There are Frisian ealders there who will know better than I."
* * * * *
* * * * *
The Hoodsman - Forest Law by Skye Smith
Chapter 4 - The old Norse ships in the Fens in September 1076
He, an owner of ships and a ship's captain was forced to ride a horse across this flooded land to Spalding. The river channels were choked with debris from the floods, and therefore riding was the fastest way despite the flooded and mucky roads. Four of his crew rode with him, and they were armed to the teeth. This street passed close to Peterburgh, and though the sheriffs of the surrounding shires had pardoned all outlaws last year, including Raynar, the Abbot of Peterburgh would never pardon him. Everyone in the Fens knew that Raynar must never fall into that Norman abbot's hands.
Beatrice was still in Lincoln and not at her manor in Spalding, but they were offered beds there. Raynar walked by himself to Spalding docks. A fresh nor’easter was blowing with a vengeance and rain was falling, or rather, being driven sideways. He ducked into alehouse after alehouse, all of which had secured themselves for the blow and all of which had clients that yelled at him to come in and shut the door. In the fourth alehouse he found who he was looking for. The old shipwright whose duty it was to keep the local ships sea worthy.
The old craftsman was not drinking ale. He was just sitting in the back and listening to the tall tales of the younger seamen. "Gives me the trots,” he said as he refused Raynar's offer of a pint. Raynar knew this from before and had come prepared. He pulled a small firkin of French wine from his saddle bag. The shipwright's eyes lit up and a smile made his craggy face look ten years younger. Over wine, Raynar explained his problem. He needed to get the Countess Judith and her bairn safely to Flanders within the next two weeks.
"Can you still handle a punt?” the shipwright asked, as he handed the remains of the firkin to the ale wench for safe keeping until they returned. He did not expect an answer, and just walked out of the alehouse with the expectation that Raynar would follow.
The two men slopped through the mud to the far dock and climbed down into a river punt. Raynar took the pole while the old man slipped the knots. The wind pushed them out into mid channel. It took Raynar an hour of hard work to reach the hidden pool where Klaes, the local Frisian warlord, kept his ships safe from bad weather and raiders. There were only two ships in the pool. Klaes and his trading ships would still be tied up in Flanders waiting for these storms to blow themselves out.
"Klaes floated them off the bottom of the Humber. They are two of old King Harald's ships from his invasion. Norwegian built so strongly made and designed for open deep water. I'm showin' them to ya 'cause there is no way in hell these storms will stop in just two weeks, so you need a ship that can ride it."
"They are old, and barely longer than my cogs. Why would I trust them?” asked Raynar.
"Climb aboard the closest there,” the shipwright replied. A sweep of the pole and they were alongside the longship, but it was certainly not a drekar, one of the sleek North Sea war ships. The gunnels were high, more like those of a cog. It was short for it's beam. It was an ugly though sturdy knarr, designed for cargo, not war. Raynar boosted the old craftsman aboard and then dragged himself up.
What he saw made him laugh. "What lunatic tried to step two masts on such a small ship.” The design must not have worked because the rear most mast had been sawn off short, barely above the level of the gunnels. The remaining mast was therefore not centered in the ship as was normal, but was closer to the bow. He shook his head and said, "Bloody Norse."
"Say that with respect, lad. There are no better seamen or shipwrights than the Norse. Only one of those steps is a mast. The other has a different purpose."
Raynar looked hard at the second stepping and could not fathom it.
"When you cross to Flanders in your cogs, what do you do at night, lad?"
"We raft the ships together for safety and set one watch and one sail."
"This ship is designed to travel long distances in rough seas while rafted.” said the old shipwright.
"That is nonsense. You cannot raft in rough seas. The forces are too great. The hulls batter each other. The lashings rip at the gunnels and split the seems."
"With two of these ships, for these two are sister ships, you raft them using spars. A long strong spar is lashed to connect them across the mast footing. Another is lashed to connect them across this second false mast footing. Each spar crosses both gunnels at these points.” he pointed "See how they are reinforced. The spars push down on the gunnels but pull up on the footings. Two smaller spars connect each bow and each stern to ensure the ships track truly. In waves the spars lift and then push down on
each hull one at a time. The hulls move together and are held rigid."
"Have you ever rigged one, such?” asked Raynar.
"No, but I've seen it done. In the Hebrides. Give me a few days and I can rig it for you, but not here. I will have to do it at Spalding for this channel is too narrow for both hulls to navigate once connected."
"What men do you need, and what coin?” asked Raynar.
"The crew you take to Flanders can do the work. Coin, about the same as re-rigging each ship. Do you have it."
"I have it. Enough of my crew are here in these villages to give you a good start tomorrow."
"Well I know it. They've been shagging the local wives rotten all month,” laughed the shipwright. He suddenly went very serious. "There are risks."
"Of course."
"The spars are heavy and are under great forces. Just as we need the stillness of a harbour to raft them using the spars, so will you need such stillness to separate them. If one hull comes to grief in high seas, then both hulls will come to grief. Separation is not just a matter of taking an axe to lashings. The spars, once free, will swing with such power that they will hole the hulls. Once the rafting spars are locked into place, you are committed to rafting until you reach another harbour."
"I understand. How will they sail?"
"As fast as the wind, lad, as fast as the wind. Light on the oars too. With the two hulls connected you don't need to carry ballast to balance the wind in the sails. The hulls stop each other from rolling."
"And they are seaworthy?” asked Raynar.
"Lad, the Norse travel the great sea and explore lands so far west that they are east. How do you think they survive those journeys? By rafting of course."
"Make it so then. Let's get back to the punt. I want to be out of these channels and back to Spalding before dark.” They clambered back into the punt and Raynar took a long last look at the hulls. "Are you not fearful of Klaes, offering his ships to me."
"You are as close to Klaes as any brother. He would not deny you. Plus you will be leaving your three cogs in Huntingdon. Klaes can always claim them if you sink these, but not likely. Lad, the folk hereabout have grown wealthy from your friendship with Robert the Frisian over in Flanders. They'll not be denying you."
* * * * *
After the month of boredom and inactivity while hiding from the storms, the project at Spalding docks was enough to make every beached seafarer and every villager curious. More of Raynar's crew were arriving every day with their kits, and with their wives of convenience on their arms. Judith came from Huntingdon with her children and with her came her most precious belongings. She stayed with him at Beatrice's manor. Lucy and Maud stuck like glue to Raynar's side and ran errands and messages along the docks for him.
Thorold and Beatrice returned from Lincoln to find their sleepy, damp village bursting with activity. They stayed but a few days and then departed for Huntingdon for they had volunteered to wait there for the possible arrival of the jilted groom, Simon of Saint Liz. The garrison at Huntingdon would follow Thorold's orders as if they came from Judith herself. The one-time Shire Reeve of Lincolnshire was well respected everywhere in the Fens. It was he who had supplied the villages with seed corn and breeding stock after the Great Harrowing.
The twin hulled ship was taking shape. It was slow going at first as the plans had to be thought and rethought before lifting tools. Once they decided on a design, and cut the spars to length, the assembly went quickly.
Raynar now understood the genius of the Norse shipwrights to have the false mast stepped when the ship was built. It gave a second post that was part of the backbone of the ship. He now also understood why the two main spars must be pinned to the mast and the false mast, yet must never be lashed to the gunnels. The spars must never be allowed to pull up on the gunnels for that would split the seams between the lapstraked planks and cause leaks.
The small spars fore and aft were pinned and lashed in place first, and with exactness, so that both hulls would point true to each other to the inch. Only then were the heavy spars lowered into place in front of each of the masts. Once the actual fitting began, it took less than a day's work to rigidly connect the two hulls.
The inboard gunnels of each ship did not touch. This was the big difference between this rigid spar-rafting design and the lash-rafting that was normal at night in the North Sea. With lash-rafting, the hulls were lashed quickly and directly together, and in rough seas or emergencies the lashes could be quickly axed to save the hulls from pounding each other to bits.
The shipwright joined the crew for the first sea trial. This was nothing but a fast trip out across the bar into the Wash, a long reach in each direction, and then back to Spalding dock. The twin hulled ship sailed flat and hardly rolled in swells, but it howled and creaked in torment when each of the hulls rose on different waves.
It was finished and good enough, and the crew and passengers had one last night on shore before they set sail and they actually did set the sails. No normal ship could raise a sail in those seas and in those winds, because the forces would roll it over. Instead, either one or the other of the hulls floated the force of the sail. The twin knarr hulls, though more rounded than the flat bottoms of the cogs, drew barely a foot of water because of the absence of the usual ballast stones, but the force of the sail pushed the leeward hull deeper.
The ealder shipwright could not be stopped from joining the crew. As he put it "This could be the adventure of my lifetime. I did this. I deserve the adventure.” Raynar knew, however, that the ealder was simply tying his fate to the ship. If it failed, he would drown too. Everyone was happy to have him aboard in case the spars need adjusting at sea.
Raynar had chosen twenty oarsmen from his three crews, for a total of twenty five crew in all. They rowed against the wind to the mouth of the river and then out across the shallows over the sand bar at the mouth. Once over the bar they shipped their oars and set the windward sail. Most of the nervous souls aboard moved to the windward hull, save for three seamen with axes who stood watch in leeward hull.
The sail filled, the mast strained, the forces were frightening. The connecting spars twisted downward with the torque of the mast but the leeward hull stopped the rolling and suddenly the force of the wind was moving the ship forward. Quickly. Frighteningly quickly.
It took Raynar plus two crew to man-handle the steering oar. They had soon learned that they could not lash the steering in place because each swell forced a correction. They learned to feel the wallow of the windward hull and the digging in of the leeward hull and once they had the feel, they sailed faster still. It was exhausting work, and they changed shifts on the steering oar every hour, but in that first hour they traveled as far as a normal ship would in three.
The crew never stopped bailing. The water was not from any leak in the hulls. The hulls were secure. The spars were compressing the lapstrake joints and if anything, they were making the seams tighter. The water was from the constant spray kicked by the wind off the peaks of the wave, and from the spray caused each time the windward hull smashed into the next wall of water.
Not once did anyone think of turning back, even if that had been possible in these seas. The design was sound and the hulls were sound. The forces were godlike and the strange ship virtually flew between the waves. They had three long tacks to clear the Wash, but once out of the wash they kept to one course along the north coast of Norfolk.
Once they reached the Sands of Foulness where the coastline made the great bend southward, they had to make a decision. Should they continue directly across the sea to the Frisian coast and then sail south, or follow the coastline south on the English side and then turn east along the north coast of Kent and cross where the North Sea narrowed.
All of the lead seamen took part in the decision. They argued loudly over the howl of the wind, and finally decided to go straight across. In these high seas the open ocean was safer than risking being blown against the English shore with its hi
dden bars and tricky shoals. In this nor’easter the western coast of Frisia should be much calmer than the eastern coast of England. Besides, the swells of the deep sea this far north would not be breaking and foaming like the swells of the narrows closer to Calais.
It took them a wild day and a night to cross the sea. Raynar sought out Judith and the children, but they were so frightened that he could not comfort them. They had a right to be frightened. He was frightened, the crew was frightened, even the old shipwright was frightened. The minutes passed like hours and the hours like days.
* * * * *
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The Hoodsman - Forest Law by Skye Smith
Chapter 5 - Welcome to Oudenburg, Flanders in September 1076
They had chosen the correct route. Though the wind did not lessen, the waves flattened and the spray lessened as they moved eastward. At daybreak they could see land, though where they were along the Frisian coast was anyone's guess. Again their choice of route proved correct. The nor’easter did not stop them from entering the first harbour to find out their location. The harbour master there told them that they were only forty miles north of Oudenburg.
In the flattened sea with the wind almost directly behind them, the wake from the twin hulls hissed with the speed. It took them only three hours to reach the entrance to the Oudenburg channel. Once in the channel and surrounded by land, Judith began to cry. Raynar tried to soothe her but she would have none of it.
"I thought we would surely drown,” she cried. "I thought that I had killed my children, and every man on this ship, just to save me from a marriage. I have never felt so guilty or so terrified in all my life."
The seamen had a differing point of view. Now that they had made it. Now that they had defeated the storms. Now that they were safe. Now they decided that it was the most exciting trip they had ever made. Some of them had cried through the night in fear, but now it was all but over, and they had survived. Now they were intensely proud of this strange Norse ship with the twin hulls, and some were dancing a victory dance which included leaping the distance between the two hulls.
