by Smith, Skye
"You must be the English smith that I have been hearing about.” affirmed the count.
"I may be, and who might you be,” said John.
Robert held his hand up to quiet the outrage, "I am Count Robert of Flanders. You are welcome in my home, and in my county."
"Robert the Frisian then?” asked John.
"The same,” replied Robert with a smile at the use of his warrior name, and a slight bow.
"Glad to meet you then,” said John walking forward with his hand outstretched.
There were hisses of shock and fear from the audience and the clink of metal armour as the guards rushed forward. Robert moved quickly to take the offered arm in a warriors embrace before the guards could get in his way. Once close to the man he realized how big he really was, and how powerful, but that it was controlled power. The ham hand that could have easily crushed his arm, now squeezed only as hard as a friendly grip.
Judith took Roberts other arm and whispered, "John is looking for Raynar. He needs to know when he will return."
The shock, awe, and fear that had moments ago gripped the audience now turned into complaining moans as they realized that the giants entrance had pushed his petition in front of those who had been patient for hours.
"You are obviously busy, your honour, so perhaps we can talk later near a warm oven and over honey cakes and mulled wine,” John offered.
It was so decided between them, and Robert stood still and watched the audience clear out of the way of the giant as he escorted Judith out of the room. After being in the presence of such a vital and useful man, it was difficult for Robert to do justice to the petty squabbles of the petty men that now clamored around him. He adjourned the court hours earlier than usual, so that he could go and eat honey cakes and warm himself in a kitchen.
* * * * *
Judith had no bed large enough to hold John comfortably. They had moved all furniture out of a room and put two feather comforters on the floor for him to sleep on. He shucked his clothes and laid down on them while he thought about what the count had told them about what was happening in Paris and in France. So well did the two men enjoy each other's stories that Judith and the rest of the household was long asleep by the time the count whistled for his escort to return him to the palace.
There was a creak of a floor board and the swish of silk as Judith crept into the room. "I saw the light of your candle, and thought you might like another comforter on top of you instead of your cloak.” She came close and knelt by John and put down the comforter she carried in her arms. She reached over him and above his head to put more candle stubs beside the one that was lit and held that pose long enough for him to enjoy the softness of her breasts pushed against his face.
When she pulled back she pulled back his heavy wool cloak too, so that she could replace it with the clean comforter. She gasped, and forgot what she was doing and just stared.
"Why do you think they call me the widow pleaser,” he chuckled. "You did not know?” He reached forward and gently pushed her raven hair back over her shoulders, and then pulled one side of her silk sleep shirt down one of her shoulders. It hung back momentarily on her nipple and then one breast was free.
"It is huge. May I touch it?” She did not wait for permission but wrapped her hand around his erection. She needed two hands.
"Long ago a girl friend made me promise to bed only women who had already given birth. She said that only a woman who had pushed a baby's head would enjoy it."
"She was wise, this girl friend of yours,” Judith said as she pulled away the last of the cloak, wrapped the new comforter around her shoulders and climbed onto John. "May I keep you warm tonight, John Smith."
He was about to mention that his friend Gwen was very wise and was now the seer to a prince of Wales, but he long ago he had learned that when a woman lies on top of you she doesn't want to talk about other women. "I was hoping you would ask,” he whispered instead. "Be gentle, and do not hurt yourself.” It was exactly the right thing to say.
* * * * *
When Judith waved goodbye to John, he was mounted on a huge cart horse. It had to be huge to carry his weight and to not look foolish. He was on his way to Paris. He had refused all offers of escorts, from Hereward, from Klaes's crew, even from the count. He had assured everyone he would be safer alone. "Everyone needs a good smith,” he now told her. "Every village will treat me well, hoping I will stay on."
She had a sudden fear that was nothing to do with his safety. Would she ever be satisfied by another man after having him. He completely filled her. Now she understood why the widows of Huntingdon would clamor for his attention whenever he came to town. How could a man be so large and yet so gentle. He was out of sight around the corner now, and so she turned back through her doorway and closed the bottom half so that she could lean out and keep watching.
The maids both looked at her and giggled. Of course they knew. Knew that she had already been unfaithful to Robert of Normandy. Knew that John was hung like a stallion. Knew that now there would be no keeping the count out of her bed. The count had told them all that Gertrude, and therefore Raynar would be in Paris for at least another month, at King Philippe's express request. John had immediately decided to travel to Paris.
She had stalled his departure for three days on the excuse that he needed rest, and needed to give her seamstress time enough to make him a better tunic for formal suppers. Three days was all she could hold him for. For three days she had pleasured herself on him. She hugged herself with both arms and sighed, and tried to ignore the giggling behind her.
The count had agreed to send a message to Paris that John was on his way, though he had mentioned that there were so many French spies in Flanders that Philippe probably already knew. She owed the good count for so many favours, and now that John had left, she had better prepare herself for paying him back. Luckily he was still a handsome, and a discrete man.
* * * * *
* * * * *
The Hoodsman - Forest Law by Skye Smith
Chapter 16 - Big John in Paris in November 1076
It took John almost two weeks to reach Paris. Not that he had troubles, quite the opposite. Every village either had a smith who was eager to offer him food and a bed in hopes of new knowledge about metals from a master; or did not have a smith so the local lord was eager to offer him food and a bed in hopes of enticing the master to settle, or at least do some fixing before he moved on.
When he finally reached Paris and crossed the great bridge to the gates of the island palace, his grasp of the French language had improved greatly. At the gates, the French guards ran forward because they thought that all the cheering from the walls meant that Count Fulk must be arriving from his victories in Bretagne. They were confused to see the English guards mobbed around a roughly dressed giant. In the confusion, someone sounded the alarm and the guard was turned out in force. The confusing situation turned tense between the English bowmen and the French men-at-arms.
The tension evaporated when the lovely courtesan, Gesa, came racing down the palace steps, with costly skirts held high so she could cross the muddy courtyard, only to fling herself into the arms of the giant. Immediately the English and the French became brothers in arms again, and those merchants who watched the episode spread the gossip of the giant's arrival.
Certainly no guard was going to challenge him, not because of his obvious immense strength. After all, the man's upper arms were as large as a normal man's thigh. No one challenged him because he was favoured by the wondrous Gesa. Every guard had been given seats to her last sword sparring match, for free. Those who pulled shifts or had shrewish wives, had sold their seats for an extra month's wage to the young blades of the court. From the subsequent stories of how Gesa had teased her sparring partner on that day, those guards who had sold their seats regretted the selling.
That evening when John arrived for his first taste of Parisienne cooking in the great hall, the chamberlain seated the somewhat grubby smith at the back t
able furthest from the nobles. Even at the back of the hall, his presence was noted by those around him, and this gave flight to more gossip. Tonight, Gesa did not sit at her accustomed place to the left of Bertha at the head table. Instead she took the king's own wine flagon, and joined the smith at his back table, where he was keeping good company with the ragged monks and pilgrims who had been seated around him.
This was somewhat disconcerting for the tables of nobles in the front, because suddenly instead of them being the center of attention of the hall, the dismal back table became the focus. Within minutes, those monks and pilgrims who sat at the table with the smith were gallantly traded benches with the table reserved for off duty guards and it's truncheons filled with meat. When Bertha, Queen of the French, rose to go and refresh her powder, she returned to the hall through the back door so that she could be introduced to Gesa's giant.
By this time the latest wave of serving girls who were siding tables and pouring wine, reached the kitchens and told of the strange happenings in the hall. Within minutes the master gossips of Paris, the palace staff, had rumors flying in every direction. The prevalent one was that the giant smith was the father of the Courtesan Gesa. Immediately every palace servant was finding some excuse to walk through the great hall and have a look see.
Philippe usually kept to himself at public functions, but even he was paying notice to the stirrings within the hall. Within six months of his marriage he had learned to do men's business behind closed doors and allow his good wife and her comely bodyguard to run the affairs of the wider court. He put one foot on the table, leaned back in his chair and hid his laughter in his wine cup. Raynar, who had accepted a temporary commission as the king's personal body guard until Fulk returned, was sitting next to him and also leaned back in his chair and joined in Philippe's laughter.
Gertrude, the Countess of Flanders, mother to the Queen of the French, mother to the Count of Holland, sister to the Count of Saxony, sister-in-law to the Queen of the English, pounded her fist on the table and stood. Gertrude, perhaps the most powerful woman in Europe on that day, was not amused.
"Daughter,” she announced over the hush she had created by standing so suddenly, "I am insulted that I am excluded from the company of the most popular man in this hall.” With that she grabbed the ear of one of the damsels beside her. She was some rich baron's daughter who had been wasting air with her incessant chatter about what some courtier had said to her, and then what she had said, and then what he had said, and then what she had said. Gertrude cruelly pulled her out of her chair by the ear and then swung her around and kicked her expensive behind, and ordered her to go and do something useful in the kitchen.
"Here,” Gertrude yelled across the hall to Bertha, "a chair has opened up beside me. Please invite the man to sit by me. She watched John rise and seeing his size she grabbed the useless young fluffy seated on the other side of her and pushed her towards the kitchen as well. "See, there is space aplenty here."
Philippe was now laughing so hard that he over balance on the tipped chair and crashed backwards to the floor. In his efforts to save himself he pulled Raynar over with him. Raynar grunted in pain as his horrid bruises were renewed. The entire hall stood, both out of respect for the king, and in eagerness to see what had happened to him.
Gesa seeing so many men on their feet, gauged the confusion and was immediately on guard for any danger to the queen, and she told John as much. John though big and seemingly slow and heavy on his feet, was not one to sit and wait for things to happen. He first lifted Gesa out of a crowd of standing men and placed her gently down standing on the table. Then he turned and did the same with Bertha, the queen he had just met. He then bellowed one of his few French words, "Asseyez-vous! Sit down," and every man at his table and the next saw the sense of what he was doing and sat back down on their benches and hunched low.
As if he were dancing with them, John led both exquisitely dressed women down the center of that long table and then swung each through the air to the next table, and danced with them again, and then swung them to the next. At each new table the diners sat back down low and watched in delight as the two glamorous women twirled and skipped around the plates and lifted their skirts high so they would not knock over anyone's wine. John began to twirl them as he made them fly to the next table, which made billows of colored silk float in the air.
Only one man decided to be stubborn and not sit, but one thump on top of his head from John's ham fist laid him low and Gesa yelled out in French, "Bow to your queen, fool.” Men on each side of the errant fool held him down until the dancers had passed.
Even when they reached the front of the hall where there was no crush of folk, they kept up the dance. By this time the off duty guards were singing a popular, though ribald, tune with a rhythm that matched the dance. The two women even danced the length of the head table and came to a stop in front of Gertrude and after John had lifted and spun them to the ground, they presented John to her. The hall erupted into non stop applause, and the gossip again flooded out of the palace in all directions.
Unfortunately there was a problem. A mace sounded three times and the Chamberlain of Grace and Propriety stepped forward. It was highly unusual for him to speak of impropriety at the head table, but it was his duty to arrange the seating, to arrange the serving order, and to police the tables. He spoke to Gertrude, "I am most sorry your grace but it is not permitted to have a peasant sit at the high table unless there are no other nobles at other tables. As you can see there are many."
Gertrude stared through the man, and Gesa picked up a table knife and prepared to shove it into the man's ample bottom. John saw this, and though he had not understood a word of the man's flowery French, he was a problem solver by nature. "What is the problem?” he asked in French so poor that the chamberlain winced.
"It is against protocol for you to sit here,” the chamberlain explained in the simplest words he could think of.
John listened and fumbled the words in his head, and then replied. "Well there is no problem then, because I am not a protocol, I am a smith.” with this he held out the charred leather apron that he still wore despite his costly Flemish tunic, "couldn't you tell?"
The translation of these words reached every corner of the hall in seconds and out into the streets of Paris within minutes. As folk packed up the markets on each side of the Seine, they began to flood over the bridges so that they could more quickly hear of the extraordinary banquet.
Philippe knew a solution but he was laughing so hard that he could not speak.
"That is another thing, sir. A trades apron is not fit attire for this company,” spoke the chamberlain when there was finally a lull in the ribaldry. Everyone shushed and leaned forward to hear more.
"Yes John,” said Gesa mischievously, "take the apron off."
"Now love, you know I can't do that. It is embarrassing."
"Yes John,” added Raynar. "it is unnatural for even a smith to keep his apron on in polite company.” There was a hush of expectation as the English words were translated around the hall.
Gertrude saw John's obvious discomfort and rose to his ear to speak to him. "John, what is wrong. Are your britches holed from the forge like your apron. Show me the problem and I will save you embarrassment if need be.” He turned his back to all but her and lifted his apron. Gertrude gasped at the unnatural size of the bulge in his britches. She felt herself flushing and took a deep breath and straightened and turned to the audience and said "As honored guest of this palace I rule that this apron is an honest sign of honest work and is permitted at this table."
It was too late. One of the serving girls had been passing behind Gertrude on her way to the kitchen, and had seen the enormous bulge. She yelled out to the other maids "It is a foot long and as thick as a turnip.” Now the entire hall wanted the apron gone and were yelling for it to be removed.
Philippe, seeing the distress on John's face swallowed his own laughter and stood. At the sight of t
he king standing, there was a hush and those who were not already standing, rushed to stand. "John Smith is a master of metals from England. I declare him a Royal Smith for the length of his stay with us. As the Royal Smith he is relieved from court protocol and can eat at my table at any time. If he is too busy with his duties to change his attire, then he is welcome in his work attire."
The chamberlain again banged his mace three times and announced "Thank you your majesty. I welcome your solution. In my estimation, protocol had been served."
"No I haven't,” John said. "I haven't even sat down yet. Here love,” he said to Gertrude of Flanders, who he now sat down beside, "please pass me that plate of pork before Raynar eats it all.” He then waggled the serving fork at Gesa and said, "And you young lady, deserve a spanking."
The roar that erupted as his words were translated through the hall, never did abate. It turned into singing, and stories, and copious drinking that went on well past midnight, though the crowds that had gathered in the courtyards dispersed well before that, because a winter rain had begun to fall.
The professional entertainment set on for that night was excellent but a bit of an anti climax. It was a troop of dancers. The director began with an apology that his dancers could never match the skill of the lovely dancers who decorate the tables of the palace. It was a polite and perhaps necessary thing to say considering that the two dancers he was complementing were the two most powerful women in Paris. Eventually however the troop was a hit, once the guards, at Philippe's prompting, lifted each of the dance troop onto the tables to repeat their dance.
* * * * *
The next morning Philippe interviewed John behind closed doors. "I heartily enjoyed your company last night, John, but I can't help but wonder why you have come to Paris.” Raynar translated the French for John.
"I came to see Raynar. I have a plan for a good business and we are partners. I have some ancient documents that are related, but I need Raynar's help to put everything together,” John tried never to lie so he added, "I also have some personal news for him, but I suppose now there is no way he can cross back to England until spring.” Raynar translated the English for Philippe but gave John the bent eye.
