by Smith, Skye
The men all laughed but it was too close to their own dreams for most of them. The battle surge pumped the heart's blood hard, and most of them had been trying to ignore the throbbing between their legs. There was a sudden silence. Had someone knocked. There it was again. The door creaked on its pivot and the light of three candles came into the room.
Carrying the candelabra was a woman, a handsome woman, Robert's mistress. The men all watched her move while holding their own breath. Each was thinking the same. Was this a dream. She was so comely with a low neckline and deep cleavage and as she moved the scent of flowers mingled with the smell of the candle flames.
"Is Anso here?” she asked.
The men all groaned. It was always Anso. The men in the bunks around him threw clothing at him to ensure he was awake. "It is no dream. She has come for you.” said one of them. The rest laughed.
She had seen the movement and closed the door behind her and tried to ignore the funk of winter men and pork farts. "If Anso is here then this message is for all of you,” she called out and then waited until there was silence in the room. "The message is from Fulk. He has arrived to negotiate terms. I was dismissed by Matilda from her presence, so Fulk sent me to find you."
Anso was on his feet. He moved towards her slowly, so as not to frighten her. She was already frightened just being here, surrounded by men who reeked of blood and lust, and her here alone and without any protection, and in a most revealing courtesan gown. He said softly. "You are welcome, and none here will harm you. Most would die for you. What is Fulk's message?"
"Flee,” she said simply, "Flee for your lives. Make for Montreuil without delay. Tonight. Now."
Her words were met with stunned silence.
Anso said one phrase, "Pack for fast travel on foot” and every man sprang into action. "Someone climb to the wall and tell our watch there."
She walked towards him, somewhat startled by the maelstrom of activity around her. When they were next to each other she said "William, or rather Matilda, has conceded all. Philippe has the Vexin. The Normans will withdraw immediately. Robert is William's heir again. He is to be Duke, but not yet. He will be co-regent with Matilda first, and in England he will be co-regent with Odo. His woman, Judith has her titles, her honors, and her land reinstated."
"Can they marry?” asked Anso.
"Matilda says never, but there are many details to the surrender of the Vexin that I was not allowed to listen to."
"Why must we flee? We won the battle for Robert."
"Matilda wants the heads of the bowmen who injured William. Moreover, she wants all Englishmen in this castle to be held on charges of treason against their king."
"But she lost,” he replied. "How can a loser demand this?"
"Neither Fulk nor Robert are speaking out to protect you. They want what else she offers, want it a lot. Fulk says run. His army is camped where this valley meets the River Therain. He says make for his camp. The pickets are expecting you and will allow you passage. No others will be allowed to follow you."
"And you. Do you come with us to Montreuil?” asked Raynar.
"That backwater hole. Not likely. I am to Paris and the court. Robert has Judith now. I will claim my reward in Paris."
"Will you be safe here? Robert may suspect that you are a spy, especially if we are gone. Come with us as far as Fulk's camp."
She stared at him. Her eyes widened in fear. "Do you think Robert suspects that I spy for Fulk."
"When he took orders from Fulk, it did not matter,” he answered. "Now he may be more powerful than Fulk. Can he afford a spy in his bed?"
"I will come with you. I must fetch some of my things."
"Do you really need them? Your own message was to flee.... now."
"My jewels. My clothes."
"Paris will be at your feet,” Anso coaxed. "Philippe's reward will make them seem like market trinkets.” He saw the skepticism in her face as she searched for a decision. "What good are jewels if you are dead?"
"It is not death I fear,” she whispered, "but death at the hands of men. They never simply kill a comely woman. They do other things first.” She paused to think. "I will come. Is there a spare pair of britches and boots in this room that would fit me, or are you all giants?"
* * * * *
Two of the gatekeepers had their throats slit to keep them quiet, but they were the only ones who saw sixty men and one woman leave the castle through the small door. At one point one of the younger lads offered to tell some of the pikemen that they were leaving so that the walls would not be left unprotected. No one laughed outright, though everyone groaned, because they could not fault the lad for taking his duty seriously.
Since there was no longer a watch on the walls, they went unnoticed along the bottom of the wall and down the north face of the hillside. This was the side away from the Rouen camp, so they felt almost safe as they found their way in the darkness. When they reached the cartway down beside the stream, they sent scouts ahead and behind and to each side. Moving carefully and silently through a forest on foot was what wolfpacks did best, and tonight was no exception.
It was four miles to the French camp. Its watch fires were small but the smoke drifted up the valley and led the bowmen on. Most of the camp would be asleep. The forward scouts found the camp's pickets and made their way around. When the main group of bowmen was challenged by the pickets, the pickets immediately felt the prick of blades at their throats.
"You must be the English from Gerberoi,” said the captain of the guard, as he gently pushed the knife blade away from his Adams apple with one finger. "We have been expecting you."
"Is Count Fulk here?” asked Anso in courtly French.
"That is not for me to say,” replied the captain.
"Take me to Count Fulk,” said a woman’s voice.
The captain raised his candle lantern to her face. "That is not possible,"
"Then take me to his woman,” she said.
"This way,” said the captain and motioned Anso and his men to follow also.
"You do not worry about sixty armed men walking through your camp unguarded?” asked Anso.
"I recognize you from the palace, despite your new name. You guarded the king. You are Fulk's men. You are with one of Fulk's women. I was ordered to protect you from any that followed you. Need I explain more?” He was silent as they wound through the tents to a grand marquee, and then he called softly at the entrance. A woman's face peered out. The captain held his lamp up so that his escort could be seen.
"You,” said the woman inside the marquee to the one outside, "what are you doing here. You should be at the castle."
"The castle became too dangerous for me. It was time to leave."
"Hmm, yes it would be. Are those the English?"
"Obviously."
"You come in and get some sleep. Captain, take the English to the edge of the camp next to the river and let them sleep there. They must cross the river before first light so they are not seen by Matilda's agents."
"Horses?” asked Anso as the woman he had brought squeezed passed the other woman and disappeared into the marquee.
She peered out at him but stayed in the shadows so that he could not see her face. She at first said nothing, but then abruptly said "Give them horses.” She moved back inside and dropped the heavy cloth back into place across the entrance.
"Who was the woman?” Raynar asked of the captain as he wound them through the camp downhill towards the River Therain.
"Someone's wife. Someone important's wife.” replied the captain.
"Enough said."
* * * * *
The next morning hid them in a winter fog. They were mounted on poor horses with ragged saddles. They crossed the River Therain and once hidden by the woods on the other bank they stopped to eat. Anso stood at the edge of the woods and looked over the river at the cooking fires springing to life around the French camp. A wolveshead brought him his share of the food but said nothing.
When Anso returned to the horses, he asked for the worst one. Then he mounted it and looked at his men. "Your way is to Montreuil, seventy miles to the northwest,” he pointed the way with his sword. "My way is to Paris, fifty miles to the south east,” he pointed in the opposite direction.
"I have learned before that these Frenchies forget to mention our deeds in their reports so as to profit themselves. Not this time. You may ride to Montreuil like peasants today, but when I come to Montreuil again you will be wealthy enough to have two wives and a house for each.” The men cheered, but it was only half hearted. Anso had never been good at rousing groups with just his words.
"Take care, Anso,” the elder second called to him. "Or are you now Raynar again?"
"Aye, I'm Raynar again, but remember that I was never, ever in Gerberoi. If anyone asks, Anso died on the battlefield."
* * * * *
* * * * *
The Hoodsman - Forest Law by Skye Smith
Chapter 30 - Reporting to the Palace in Paris in January 1079
Grey smoke mixed with a winter mist from the River Seine hung heavy and dark over the villages of Paris. He was a peasant on a peasant horse, so no one heeded his passage. Certainly no market women left the roofs covering their stalls to get damp while trying to sell their wares to a peasant who would have no coin to pay.
The guards at the bridge to the island asked him his business and he said in courtly French that he was a messenger in disguise with an urgent message for the king from Count Fulk.
"What, another one?” asked the guard.
"He sends many in hopes that one makes it through enemy lines. It is good news that more than one of us has made it through.” Raynar jested, but he was tired to the soul. He had ridden almost non stop to be the first with the news to Philippe. He was a fool. Messengers would have been sent immediately, and would have had a half days head start.
He was escorted to the guard house within the palace. He knew it well from when he had guarded the king. He did not wait to be invited to the bread in the bin or the watered wine in the cask. His actions were so normal amongst the guards that he was not denied. A courtier came into the guard house and asked for the message.
"It is verbal."
"Then tell it to me."
"It is in code."
The man looked suspiciously at Raynar and then asked the guard to search his horse and his body. They threw his weapons onto the table. He looked at the longbow and the short sword. "You are Fulk's man. Were you once a body guard here?"
"I was."
The man nodded to the guard and said simply, "Bring him."
He knew the corridors and the rooms and knew they were taking him to the small weapons room in the royal wing. Well, that was better than the dungeon. At least they believed that he had a message. "This is taking too long,” he said pleasantly to the courtier, "is mistress Gesa in residence. She will take me to the king."
The courtier came towards him and tried to look past the tangle of hair and beard to see the face. "I will bring her.” He was back in mere moments. "She is indisposed. She asks who would see her."
"Tell her a healer from the Fens” he said in Frisian. The courtier had to repeate it four times before he said it correctly, and then he left again. Moments later Gesa swept into the room and all the guards bowed low. She walked around the wreckage that was Raynar, and then looked him in the eye. "You have a message for the king. I have a message from John. Which is more important?” she asked in Frisian.
"Tell me."
"One word. Sonja."
Raynar gave a deep sigh. "Take me to the king."
"Looking like that. Never. Whatever the message it can wait a half hour while you are cleaned and robed. My heavens, I can see the fleas jump and the lice crawl. Get away from me until you are clean.” she switched back to French when she turned to the courtier and said, "Take him to the bath house and have him bathed, barbered, and dressed for court. Only then may you bring him to me at the queen's apartment."
The courtier bowed low and immediately became more courteous to the rough peasant.
* * * * *
Bertha sat at the table with Gesa and Raynar. Philippe sat up in his wife's bed leaning against pillows. He did not look well. "I have had many messages from Gerberoi today. Let's see. One from Robert saying that he had beaten his father in knightly combat and he would soon be Duke. One from Matilda saying that she is seeking my protection while her husband is not well. One from Fulk saying that he has routed the French and soon the Vexin will be mine. But they are all just messages, carried by men who do not know and do not care. Do not tell me another message. Tell me what really happened at Gerberoi."
Raynar, despite his fatigue, told the story. In his way of telling, he made it interesting to listen to, but he kept the telling truthful and complete.
"So first you shot William's horse out from under him, then you wounded him, perhaps mortally, and then Robert stood in the way so that you could not finish him,” summarized Philippe. "William has finally fallen to your arrow, Englishman. Will he recover?"
"If Gesa or I treat him, yes. If another healer treats him, probably. If the physicians bleed him, no."
"Did Matilda recognize you?” asked Bertha.
"Perhaps,” replied Raynar, "she demanded my head as part of the terms, and wanted all Englishmen turned over to her to face charges of treason."
"What did Fulk promise you if you would kill William?” asked Philippe.
"To me he promised nothing. My reward was watching my arrow humble him. He promised that my men would be as rich as princes if they killed William."
"And what did you promise your men?” asked Gesa.
"That each would have wealth enough for two wives, which means of course, two houses."
"I already gave them land for houses in Oudenburg,” complained Philippe.
"Different men. These men were from Montreuil."
"Then the bowmen of Montreuil will have land enough for two houses, even if William does not die. I still have need of them on my walls there, and it is a small enough price to secure their continued presence there. Perhaps one house in Montreuil and another in Gerberoi. That will keep the wives apart. The two wives they will have to win for themselves.” Philippe smiled weakly at him. "Perhaps they can send for wives from England. Times will be hard in that kingdom with Williams suffering so many defeats here in France."
Philippe seemed to fall asleep. Raynar gave Gesa a worried look, but she waved it away. "He is just tired. You are not the only man who has ridden through the night."
"What are your plans now Englishman?” asked Philippe, "My spies say that your trading business in Flanders has made you rich while you have been playing the role of a peasant in the Vexin."
"I have trouble at home. A woman who I share a child with needs my help. I will beg a bed for a few nights and then be gone, with your permission."
"My forecasters say that this winter will linger long. You cannot cross to England yet. Stay two weeks and then go with my blessing.” The king said no more. He was gently snoring.
Gesa led Raynar from the room, and over his shoulder he saw Bertha gently stroking Philippe's head as she crawled into the bed with him. Once the door was shut, and barred behind them by the maid, Raynar said quietly "That is not just fatigue."
"Mostly fatigue. He has spent a year in the saddle riding across France with one army or another. For him, the best part about this latest peace is that William is injured. If William is bed ridden then Philippe can also stay in bed, in Bertha's bed making children."
"Yes, this land needs peace. But more than peace, it needs nobles who live more simply so that more is left for the folk who do all the work. It needs fewer war horses and more cart horses. It needs fewer stone castles and churches, and more mills and better roads.” He took Gesa by the hand and turned her to face him. "But peace would be a good start."
"William? His wound? Pig shit?” she asked.
"Ye
s, the point went though his hand and into the side of his chest. I do not know how deeply."
"Come,” she said, "you can have your old room again. Do you wish to share your bed with me?"
"Yes please, but just for the comfort of sleeping close to you. Tonight I am tired to the death."
"Good, then we will both get some sleep, but in the morning do not even think of squeezing me until I have had a pee.” She laughed lightly and her laughter chimed like music, and he felt a joy at simply walking beside her hand in hand. This joy made him realize even more that he had been playing the role of a peasant bowman for a year, and that he must now shake off that role, for that was not who he was. Not any more.
* * * * *
Raynar lay curled into Gesa's back to keep warm. Her breathing was soft, her scent like spring, and her warmth a delight. He was so tired that his eyes would not stay open, and yet his mind would not let him sleep. Philippe was no fool. He had more or less ordered him to stay here until Fulk returned, in case there was more to do.
Fulk would not return within two weeks. He had the army in the Vexin, and the Normans were retreating, so it would be foolish not to press the advantage and take control of every fortification in the Vexin. Fulk was not foolish. Far from it.
Robert of Normandy was not foolish either, but he often took bad advice. Would Robert remain in the Vexin, or come back to Paris, or visit Judith in Flanders, or accompany his mother back to Caen. William's wound would not soon heal, and even if he recovered, he would long be fighting fevers and delirium. Robert would be foolish not to use his father's infirmity to re-establish himself at Caen.
Judith had Huntingdon back, which could mean that her betrothal to Simon would be annulled. She had made a wonderful life for herself there and she constantly pined that she missed it so. Would she stay in Brugge? Would she live with Robert in Caen? Bah, she would be foolish not to return to Huntingdon where she did not need a husband.
