by Smith, Skye
"One assassin dead, one badly injured. Two possible conspirators under guard. To be taken to the guardhouse to await questioning by Mistress Gesa, sir,” reported LeFevre crisply. "No other important injuries."
"Here is another conspirator. Take her too,” Philippe said as he pushed a maid through the doorway who was already gagged and had bound wrists. He looked down at the grisly sight of the dart in the eye socket of the dead man lying in a pool of blood, and then saw beyond him, the vision of Gesa. Dressed in just the gore streaked silk bed shirt, she looked like an angel of Satan. "Gesa, get in here and away from the eyes of men. Bertha can clean you up while you guard her. I will question the prisoners."
"And quickly,” added Raynar. "This one will bleed to death if I don't treat his wounds."
LeFevre commanded an about face of his men, to give Gesa some privacy until she was out of sight and the door bolted behind her. Raynar glanced around. Every man standing had a bulge in his britches, even the ancient lamp man. What was it that all men found so sexy about Frisian shield maidens, especially after a bloody fight?
* * * * *
LeFevre and Philippe did the questioning. Raynar sat behind a blind so he could not be seen though he could hear everything. He was to write down all that was asked and answered. Gesa eventually arrived and sat beside him behind the blind. She was now clean and perfumed and dressed for the court, not the guardroom. "LeFevre sent me four guards. Gertrude took Inka into Bertha's chamber so they are all very safe,” she told him. "How is the injured man?"
Raynar whispered into her ear, and kissed it while he did so, "My sewing is not as neat as yours, but the wounds are clean and closed. He is resting on a bed in the next room. He will live.” His reward for the brush of his lips was having his free arm hugged into her post-baby cleavage.
LeFevre was asking the questions. He chose to begin with the pikeman who had dropped his pike at once at Gesa's command. The man was first assured that he was under arrest only to make sure he did not wander off before he was questioned. All he was expected to do was to tell his story and to leave out nothing even if it seemed unimportant.
"We,” the pikeman began, "Jean and I, were doing our rounds in the far wing. Since the palace guard is short handed while the army is in Bretagne, we no longer stand guard, but walk a circuit. I heard a cry for the guard, but it was far away. We began trotting in the direction we thought the cry came from, but it was not repeated so we were still not sure of the direction or the urgency. We kept moving but more slowly because we had to check every room for trouble. Then a door slammed and though we could not assume it was related, we did speed our pace.
When we came upon the slaughter we split up. Jean to the stranger on his knees, I to the stranger on the floor. My man was obviously dead, and he had the Englishman’s sword in his guts. The Englishman had been cut down trying to protect her."
"Her?” asked LeFevre.
"Mistress Gesa. She was standing with a bloodied sword and looked to be wounded for she was covered in blood. She yelled at Jean to stop him from killing the stranger. Then the Englishman claimed his sword from the dead man's belly and ordered us to drop our pikes. I dropped mine immediately, but Jean did not realize it was Gesa's Englishman so he delayed and had his hand slashed for his caution."
"How did you know it was the Englishman's sword?"
"We check all swords as part of our duty. We allow only those useless little court swords with all the jewels. I won't be allowing the Englishman's sword any longer. The man he gutted was wearing mail. That little sword of his split mail."
"So you know the Englishman, then?” asked LeFevre.
"All the guards know the Englishman. He is the luckiest bugger in the palace. Gesa seeks him out at night."
"Who gave you the order to kill the assassins if they failed?” asked Philippe calmly.
"What, I'm sorry sire, I must not have heard you correctly."
Philippe repeated the question.
"You cannot think that I, that we, would attack her. We are all in love with her."
"I did not say that your orders were to attack Gesa, but to silence the assassins."
"What is he saying captain. Our only orders were to make our rounds."
"Enough,” said Philippe, "take him back and bring Jean in."
Jean told almost exactly the same story.
"Why did you try to kill the wounded stranger?” asked LeFevre.
"He had tried to kill Mistress Gesa, so his time was finished on this earth,” replied Jean
"She was not wounded."
"I did not know that. I saw the Englishman on the floor dying, and his sword in the other stranger. I saw her, covered in blood and trying to defend herself with a sword as big as herself. At that moment the one thing I wanted most in life was to kill the bastard."
"You would kill a man for threatening Gesa?” asked Philippe.
"Most surely. Any of us would. We are all in love with her. Every man in court is in love with her. We often have to warn the courtiers off her when they get drunk. You know. Harm her and you will have your throat slit. That sort of thing. They weren't empty threats, not about her. He had harmed her. He was a dead man."
"Why should we believe you?” asked Philippe.
"Ask anyone, ask LeFevre. How many times a week does someone in the guardhouse say he would die for her. She is a special woman. The only woman in the palace who has not been bedded by Fulk, ohh, other than your wife of course, sire. As for me, I am probably smitten worse than anyone. I spent last months wages to purchase a seat in the fencing room so that I could watch her practice. A month's silver for an hour of watching her fence so gracefully in that tight silk gown that she wears to the practices. I would pay it again this month but my mother has a birthday coming up. Ask anyone."
"Bring the other man back,” said Philippe. When they were both sat in front of him he said. "The strangers were not attacking the Englishman, or Mistress Gesa. My wife's maid was paid gold to unbar the door. They were assassins sent to kill us both. You were part of the plot. You were ordered to kill the assassins if they failed so that they could not name their paymaster. Tell me the truth or I will have you racked."
Gesa stood up and became a cloud of crimson silk stepping around the blind. "Don't be a fool, Philippe. These men are the truest sons of France. If they would die for me, then they would dive into the fires of hell for you.” She stood between and slightly behind the two young men and put a hand gently on each of their cheeks to press their faces together and into her bosom.
"They are my champions. Let them return to their duties.” To make her point she leaned over and kissed one full on the lips and lingered there. "For your valour tonight you have earned a place as my sparring partner next week.” Then she leaned into Jean and kissed him just as fully. "And you have earned a place for this week. Oh and if you decide to sell your place so that you can buy a nice birthday present for your mother, then accept no less than a hundred francs. Now go, both of you go about your duties."
The men looked at Philippe but he just smiled back at them and waved them on. When they had gone Philippe said "A hundred francs to be your sparring partner for an hour? Is this a jest?"
"Well, in truth, my sparring partner also escorts me on my afternoon ride, and often escorts me to the evening meal. The fencing master earns well from the arrangement and I enjoy teasing the men.” She leaned forward so that her cleavage was exposed and Philippe could almost, but not quite see her nipples.
"The fencing master?"
"Why of course. It is he that chooses my sparring partners."
"And he auctions the privilege or is it always a hundred francs."
"Auctions it, and the price is high now because of the number of barons who have come to Paris to seek honours from you. My record was a thousand francs.” she said with a wicked smile.
"A thousand, a thousand francs."
"When I was new to the palace and Robert of Normandy would bid against Fulk. The Norman ambassa
dor was furious because everyone knew that Fulk was bluffing. He did not have the coin to bid.” She sat on the bench that was still warm from the prisoners. "When the price is high the master shares it with me, but I always get a tithe on any wagers won, and I always get the earnings from the seating, and a tithe from the whores that wait outside the building."
LeFevre was laughing so hard that he forgot himself and slapped his king on the back.
"It must stop,” said Philippe.
"Perhaps, but not for two more weeks. I just promised those lads a place,” she smiled at Raynar who was now standing behind Philippe and LeFevre and choking down his own laughter. When he turned his head she could see a nasty cut just beneath his hair line. She walked around to him swiftly and brushed back his hair from the wound.
"Raynar you fool. You have not had your own wounds treated. They were assassins. Their blades will have been poisoned,” She looked down at Philippe. "We must leave you now. I must tend to him."
"No,” said Raynar and pulled away from her. "That can wait until we question the assassin.” He motioned to Philippe. "He will be too weak to sit. We must question him at his bedside."
The first Raynar knew that there was something wrong was when LeFevre began to curse. He pushed the king out of his way and rushed to the assassin's bedside. The man had ripped out the stitches and opened his leg wounds with his own fingernails. The bed was swimming with his blood. He skin was as pale as a cadaver. He had bled to death by his own hand.
"Fuck,” was Philippe's eloquent reaction, "now I will never know if it was me or my wife who was the target, and who was targeting us."
"The maid will know,” offered Gesa.
"The maid knows nothing,” replied Philippe. "Bertha and I already know that. She was whoring to a man who was willing to pay gold to pervert her in the Queen's chamber. She would have been the first one dead to keep her from screaming. She saved us by barring the door when she heard the call to arms, so she will die with no pain."
"Bertha will forgive her and send her away,” said Gesa.
"No she won't, because if we don't know who is targeting us, then we must suspect everyone.” Philippe brutally kicked the dead body in his temper. "Raynar, how strong an escort did you bring for Gertrude."
"Twenty bowmen,” replied Raynar.
"Are they trained in pikes and swords?"
"Oh Philippe, silly," Gesa interrupted. "They are the hand picked crew of the Anske, Raynar's personal ship. Each man fights like ten."
"Would they take orders from LeFevre here?"
"Is he the same LeFevre who held the bridge at Val-es-Dunes that your men still sing about?” asked Raynar.
"The same."
"They will take his orders gladly. So you now have twenty guardsmen who you can trust. They are currently quartered on the left bank."
"It will just be until my army returns and my own guards are fleshed out with the new heroes."
"Ahem, my men are all new heroes too, you know. A few weeks ago they set the Seine on fire at Rouen."
Philippe stared hard at the peasant bowman come sea captain, and realized that he had been so busy pleasing courtly sycophants that he not yet heard Raynar's battle report from the Vexin. "Ah yes, we must talk."
"Yes you must,” said Gesa, "but not now. He is mine until his wounds are cleaned and he has slept."
"Oh no you don't. If you get him to your room he won't get any sleep,” winked Philippe.
Instead Philippe dragged both Gesa and Raynar back to Bertha's chamber so that he could ask questions while Raynar was attended to. Raynar was in so much pain that Gertrude, and then Bertha helped Gesa to remove his clothes. What they saw underneath made all three women sigh and tut and kiss his forehead. He was horribly bruised down both his sides and across his chest.
The heavy swords that had been swung against his roll of rug had not broken the skin but they had left nasty welts that would be black and blue and painful for a month. Gesa checked him carefully all over for any cuts, and found only the one under his hair line. Disbelieving, or for other reasons, Bertha then also checked his entire body for cuts or blood, until Gertrude pulled her away scolding her for her obviousness.
Philippe also looked at Raynar's tortured skin and it made him realize the intensity of the beating the man had suffered in order to save him from the assassins.
* * * * *
* * * * *
The Hoodsman - Forest Law by Skye Smith
Chapter 15 - A big man finds Judith in Brugge in November 1076
The knock on the door came again. "Open for me please,” said a man's voice, "I am a constable of the Brugge watch."
Judith pulled her maid aside gently and with her children hiding behind her skirts she swung open the top half of the door. "I am mistress here, how can I help you."
"Do you know this man, and is he welcome in your house?” asked the constable. He stepped aside to allow her see out into the street.
There was a large man standing behind him in sea faring gear. At first she thought him Klaes, especially as she recognized some of Klaes's crew standing alert at the edge of a growing crowd of the curious. The man straightened and looked towards her, and she realized that even Klaes was not as large as this man. She opened the bottom of the door and shook the little hands from her skirts and ran into his arms. "John” she exclaimed, "Oh John, it has been too long."
The constable, looking greatly relieved, said, "Oh, then it is all right then.” and waved at his troop to back away from the Frisian crew who had brought this giant to the docks. They backed away gladly. Though ships crew were not allowed weapons in Brugge, they always carried the tools of rope makers in their belts, a short bladed working knife and a wicked roping spike. Besides, these men were not just ships crew. They were part of the Oudenburg garrison that protected Brugge from raiders, and therefore very dangerous men.
The street urchins and the lads that had tumbled out of the ale house around the corner to watch the fun, all groaned in disappointment. The wagers were cancelled. The constable was further unnerved to find out that it was five to one that his arms would have been ripped out of their sockets by the giant.
"You're fit then?” asked one of the crew of John.
"Aye, but hang about a bit to make sure I have a bed for the night,” replied John.
"Of course you do,” said Judith and leaned around John's bulk to wave the crew on. "Give my thanks to Klaes."
"Klaes is still in Spalding. The weather break was short and he did not want to be stuck on this side for the winter. I'll give your thanks to Hereward."
The constable and his men had disappeared already, and with them the crowd. She led John towards the door of Beatrice's town house, but he was walking very slowly with his head and eyes moving quickly to see all the features of the so-not-English house. He was muttering man things, "Solid house with well thought out beams. Nice brick work, some skill did that. I like that pulley above the upstairs window. Nice chimney, nice bum, nice tits, you've filled out wonderfully, love."
"And I am a widow now,” she told him playfully. When John had lived in Huntingdon and in Ely, he had been the favourite of the widows. The men called him the widow pleaser because he ignored the younger, thinner women that other men lusted after.
The children ran screaming away from him as did the maid. "Don't fret love. Once I am sat and still, they will come and explore me. It's the same with animals. I think all creatures are afraid I may stumble and fall on them, but once I am stooped low they lose that fear.” He ducked deeply to enter the house. Houses were never friendly to him and he was well used to bumping his head numerous times a day, and knocking women’s pretties off their shelves.
"Oops, sorry love” he said as something crashed beside him. "It's dark in here. Mind if I open the shutters."
"Oh please do,” encouraged Judith, "I keep them locked when there is no man in the house. It's been over a month now that I have had no man."
"Hereward told m
e about this Robert fella, the Conqueror's son. Does he treat you right?"
"I hardly know yet. We were together a week and then he was gone to Corbie. That is a town south of here in France.” She looked around for a stool strong enough to hold his weight, but he had already moved into the kitchen to sit on the bench next to the oven. Once he was sat and still, the maid ventured close to him with fresh bread and ale. By the time he was asking in a gentle voice for more ale, the children were exploring his wide lap and poking fingers through the burn holes in the leather smith's apron that he always wore.
"I'm looking for your other man, Raynar."
"He is in Paris with the Countess Gertrude."
"Yeh, Hereward told me. I need to know when he'll be back."
"But I don't know that. You could ask the count. Raynar went as his wife's escort so he will return with her."
"Hereward told me that too. I was on my way to the palace when the watch got in my way. They seemed to think I wouldn't be welcome at the palace. The crew mentioned your name to them, so I was allowed to come this far. D'ya think you can get me a chat with this count fella?"
"Here or in the palace?” she asked already deciding that it would be probably easier to bring the count here, as he had been more attentive to her since his wife had left for Paris.
"The palace please,” he replied, "I've never been in a palace. Not a real one. It could be interesting."
* * * * *
John's arrival at the palace was indeed interesting. If he had not had Judith on his arm he would not have even been allowed onto the grounds. Even with his hair and beard neatly trimmed, and wearing his best tunic, though still over the smithy's apron, he looked the like how the warrior songs describe berserkers.
The count was holding open court at the time and the great hall was filled with merchants and landlords with petitions. The regular business of the court stopped absolutely as soon as Judith and John entered the room. The audience backed away from them, while the guards along the walls pressed forward with pikes at the ready. Only the count was calm.
