Hoodsman: Blackstone Edge

by Smith, Skye

  "We'll need five with the horses. That leaves only, ugh" Alan was counting it out on his fingers.

  "Four assassin groups of four," finished Raynar.

  "We come all this way and do all this work for four targets. Are you mad."

  "I would do it for one, Alan, if that one were William. With William dead, the Normans are finished in this kingdom. If we miss William but take down two or three counts, then William will turn back and Mercia may be saved the fate of Yorkshire," replied Raynar.

  He went back to the pantomime. "The men chasing us will have dismounted in the thick bush. We gain our horses and wait in case any others have trouble escaping." He climbed above the trees up the slope. "See, from this game path you can move quickly up or down the valley and have a clear target of men climbing the hillside."

  Jonas hailed them from below. "We've found a camp around the next finger of the ridge. Stay there, I will come up." Jonas dismounted and handed his horse to another in his party, and scrambled up the steep slope. He took his breath once he reached them, and looked around in all directions before he spoke, "Follow me, this must be the trail around the ridge." They could do the path at an easy walk because it was level as it traversed the slope. "I take it that this path is going to be our fall back position after the attack." He yelled down to his party and told two of them to follow this path the other way to see where it led.

  It took the three of them no time at all to round the finger of the ridge which turned them almost back on them selves up the next small valley. They looked down on the entrance to the small valley and saw that this valley must be used by shepherds in the summer. The entrance had a fence of twisted brambles to keep the sheep penned out of the larger valley. There was a spring for water, and a lot of bush denuded of leaves within the reach of sheep. The bottom of the valley was rising to meet their path which was descending. Where path met valley the other men were waiting.

  The cave they had found was not natural. It had been carved out of soft stone and packed earth from underneath a slab of bedrock. The carving must have been going on since ancient times. The part of the cave at the highest level of the valley had been carved carefully to make a room with part of the soft rock still standing to make the outer wall. They looked back from this curtain wall. Centuries ago this room would have been lower down the valley, but as the curtain wall collapsed, the folk had carved a new wall further up the slope. What was left of the continual collapsing was a hollow that could easily protect two hundred sheep from the weather.

  The men were already setting up camp. At this lower altitude and in the lee of the hills, they were looking forward to a warmer night's sleep tonight. Alan looked at them and said only one thing, "No smoke". They all nodded at the obvious wisdom.

  Alan and Raynar spent the rest of the daylight putting each assassin group through their own pantomime of the ambush and the escape. They were finishing the first pantomime and creating escape trails through the brambles, when the watch returned from nose of the ridge on the other side of the river.

  The men that Jonas had sent to follow the traversing trail had sent these men back to report. The traversing trail had led to the top of the valley, crossed the street, and continued along that very nose where the watch had been sent. The first watch of men had returned using it. "We covered our trails both ways from the street," one said. "It was easily done because there are only a few pockets of mud that left prints, but it must be done else any army scout worth his salt would follow the fresh tracks."

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  The Hoodsman - Blackstone Edge by Skye Smith

  Chapter 9 - The Norman Army crosses Blackstone Edge in February 1070

  On their second evening at the valley camp, the watch came down from the nose hill and reported a hundred small fires down on the flats leading to this valley. The army had come.

  "They stopped early so there must be a good camp down there," said one.

  "I think they didn't want to start the climb and immediately have to camp," said the other.

  "You are both right," replied Alan. "Their plan will be to rest in the relative warmth of that last low camp, and then rush over this street in one day. They expect their next camp to be over the other side, somewhere well below Blackstone Edge for the infantry, and perhaps inside the walls of Chester for the cavalry." All the men in the cave snickered and called on Thor to show these foreigners what Peaks sleet and mist looked like.

  Men were rousted out to work backwards from the cartway covering any tracks that my lead to their camp. Meanwhile the rest talked in low and nervous voices. No matter how many times Alan had told them not to take risks, and to run for cover if they saw danger, just being here was a risk. When fleeing, a simple trip or a twist of an ankle would cost you your life.

  Jonas berated them all, saying that this was no different from the last year's attacks on patrols, other than the patrol is a bit bigger this time. Describing the Norman army as a big patrol won some nervous laughter. Most finally admitted that so long as they hit and ran, they would never see most of the army. They would just see those with pennants.

  At first light they sent two men off towards Chester. "Spread the word," instructed Alan, "but don't tarry anywhere, even an alehouse, until you reach the guard at Chester's gate. Tell everyone you meet that the Norman army is crossing the Peaks on the high street and they will descend into Manchester and then into Chester." There were no questions. There was nothing to say. Two of the miners went. They had not signed on for battle.

  Also at first light they began a rotation of watchers at the lower ford. The first messenger back from the watch warned them that the first army scouts were inspecting the washout of the street. That was at about an hour past dawn, or what would have been dawn if the clouds were not so low. The army scouts waited there until other scouts caught them up. Some of them saw the rough cartway across the river and decided to test the ford. It was shallow, not even up to horses knees, so they continued across the mountain torrent.

  By this time Alan and Raynar had crept forward and joined the watch in their hide. They were absolutely still so that Raynar could listen to the French words. The scout in the lead turned back to the river and yelled to the others. The words rolled back and forth across the sounds of the rushing water. "The one scout is saying that he suspects a trap. The others are saying that a trap for an army would take many men. There is no where for so many men to hide."

  Other scouts crossed the fords, slowly looking down trying to gage whether the bottom was smooth or rocky. "They like the ford but worry about the icy water." All the scouts were now on the wooded side of the river. There were a dozen of them and most were walking their horses slowly along the cartway while looking down at the ground. "They are still suspicious. They are looking for the tracks of men or animals. I hope we did a good enough job of sweeping. These men know their business."

  Almost as one, the scouts stopped searching the ground and trotted along the cartway to the upper ford. There was more talking but it was too far to hear. They next saw them across the river again, but this time on the upstream side of the washout. They looked across the river at the woods, and the bowmen ducked low and out of sight. When they looked up again, the scouts were gone. Alan opened his mouth to talk but one of the other watchers nudged him silent. Two guards trotted by their hide and crossed the lower ford and then headed down the street towards the army.

  There was no one in sight now, so the bowmen stretched their legs and rubbed their knees. They were not only stiff, but cold to the bone from their stillness. Alan motioned them to duck again. A large body of men had reached the ford. The leaders dismounted and walked to the washout. They looked at it from different angles, and kicked at the banks. A dozen men were ordered up the slope above the washout with tools. They began to pull rubble from the hillside down to try to fill in the washout. One of the leaders called to them and they stopped. The fresh rubble was just being washed away.


  The workers moved back to the ford. Some on horseback crossed the ford and dismounted. They began searching for something on both banks of the river working downstream from the ford. One of the leaders yelled at the men, and they jumped into action. Fifty pairs of hands began moving rocks and boulders towards the banks of the river to create a mound. More mounted men crossed the ford to do the same on the other side. There was the sound of axes in the woods, and eventually the sound of falling trees.

  More men were arriving at the ford and they were all put to work. Cut trees were stripped of branches and bodily dragged to the growing mounds on each side of the river. "They are building a foot bridge," said Alan. "With this many hands they will make short work of it." The bowmen watched as lines were used to drag one end of each log across the river.

  With the heavy work mostly done, the men began moving along the cartway. The bowmen ducked and held their breath. Now that the lower ford had a foot bridge they were off to build one at the upper ford.

  "Damn," whispered Raynar, "the bridges will keep their feet dry. I was counting on half the army having wet feet in the highlands. Horses and carts will use the ford, while those on foot will use the bridge. I suppose that they have had much practice in re-building roads and bridges after the floods in Yorkshire and Lincolnshire. That is why all these men are riding ahead of the army. They are making sure that the street is passable so the army doesn't have to stop."

  It was amazing how quickly a substantial bridge had been created. The bridge was now complete at the lower ford and any man on foot was using it. The rest of the work patrol was now passing the hide on their way to the other ford. The woods around them became still again. "What do you think. Time to bring the men up?" asked Raynar. Alan looked out of the hide again, and confirmed the decision. Alan crawled off through the bush. The three other watchers backed away from the hide and left Raynar alone. Now they became his personal watchers. He was their assigned assassin, and this was his ambush point, and their job was to help him get away afterwards.

  Raynar's position was the closest to the lower ford and only he could see the ford clearly. It was he who would decide the timing of everyone's first shot, and give the signal. All the men knew that his prime target was William and the signal would wait until he had a clear shot at the king, or until there were enough important targets on the cartway for all of the assassins to make a killing shot, whichever came first."

  Only because he knew where to look could he see Alan in the next hide, or rather see the effects of Alan being there, because there was no part of Alan visible. They waited and waited as the noise increased across the river. Armies were noisy and armies stank and this army was no exception. He moved one leaf to better see the ford. Mounted men were crossing the ford in great numbers. They were mostly men at arms and lowly knights.

  Many of the men looked worse for wear. Endless campaigns across Yorkshire had taken their toll on gear and clothing. To Normans, dressing well was important and spoke loudly of their self importance. These men were land lords, some of them would have large holdings, and yet the clothes were soiled and ragged. The armour carried behind the saddles was stained with rust, as were the buckles and rings on the saddles. Boots were wrapped in rags, helmets were dented, and gear was in need of repair. The horses had been left shaggy for the winter. This was a very different Norman army to the one that had murdered King Harold at Hastings Road back in '66.

  Two handsome horses were coming across the ford now. The riders had fir on their cloaks and their boots were freshly oiled. He tried to see their faces but they had the hoods of their cloaks in place against the cold and all he could see was shadows and noses and chins. Behind them were others wearing clean or new clothes. Finally the Norman nobles had arrived. Raynar felt an urgency to find William in all these bodies. He could not allow these nobles get beyond the assassins. He was now running out of time to give the signal.

  Two riders crossed the ford and stopped at this end of the bridge. Raynar focused his eyes. In looking at these riders, he also saw that the first of the infantry had reached the bridge and were starting across. Damn, mercenary archers. Probably Bretons such as he had met in Selby. He could delay the signal no longer. His men had to escape this valley before these archers crossed the river.

  He looked at the two mounted men. Both were in cloaks rich with furs. Both were large like William. Their saddles shone. One of them must be William and the other a count or a baron. Which was which. Would he have time to shoot both. Which should he shoot first. He could not decide between the two.

  The noble closest to him climbed down from his horse and went to inspect the bridge. As he walked towards the bridge, archers were walking towards him across it. The archer closest to him slipped and would have fallen in the river had not the noble took a step into the river with his well oiled boots and grabbed the mans arm and supported him until he regained his balance. The archer did not bow, he just made his thanks and kept moving, with a long look at the noble still mounted. The mounted noble must be the king. He was sure of it. The noble on foot had not acted like a king, and the archer had not shown him defference.

  With full sized longbows, the ones powerful enough to defeat armour, a man must stand to shoot. That was the signal for the rest to shoot. Raynar stood and stepped out of this hide so that the bushes would not snag his bow. He drew, aimed and loosed in one powerful and smooth movement. While that arrow was still in flight, he nocked another and drew aimed and loosed. The first arrow hit the mounted man squarely in the chest and he slumped backwards with the force of the arrow and then began to slide from the saddle, ever so slowly, and backwards.

  The horse thought it was being turned and so did turn, directly into the path of the second arrow that was meant for the noble standing beside the bridge. The horse screamed and kicked out. There were shouts and yells up and down the cartway. Behind him one of his watchers was blowing a horn. The reminder signal not to gawk, but to break and run.

  Raynar had a third arrow nocked and was waiting for the other noble to step into the clear for another shot. It was not to be. He had been spotted as soon as he stood up, and now only moments later, there were men racing towards him on foot and on horse. He put the arrow into the chest of the closest horse and then dived backwards through the bush. He could hear the men chasing him and closing on him, but he could see his watchers facing him only paces ahead of him. All three loosed within seconds of each other and he heard screams behind him, but he did not slow to look.

  He raced through the three watchers at full run, but after ten paces further he stopped, reached for arrows, and turned to cover them in turn. And so it was that they leap frogged each other making for the steep slope behind them. Their arrows were sent askew by the thick bush, but they were enough to make their pursuers slow and be more cautious. The four of them made it through the last of the brambles, and together scampered up the steep slope of the valley.

  Raynar stopped long enough to look along the slope. There were three other groups also climbing. He looked behind him. There were a hundred men after them, slashing their way through the bushes with swords.

  The horn that had signaled to break and run had also been the signal to bring the horses. They were a gloriously welcome sight. The first three strings rode right passed them, and on towards the other groups. The final string was theirs and they wasted no time unstringing their reins and mounting. Raynar and Alan gave each other the signal that no men were missing, and they began a quick sure walk along the traversing trail and up the valley.

  Raynar took the rear. There were bolts being fired at him but they had no accuracy at this range uphill. There was a rider with a fur cloak organizing a chase. Raynar could not shoot from this skittish horse, so he dismounted, nocked, drew, and loosed at the leader. The man had his back to him and did not stand a chance. The arrow pushed him down low over his horses neck and his horse began to run. It trampled a few men before they pulled it to a stop, and the leader was help
ed out of his stirrups and to the ground. The organization of the chase was forgotten in the rush for cover below him on the valley floor.

  He remounted and chased after the other bowmen. Alan had stayed back in case he needed cover, and he passed him with a wave and kept going. It took Alan to the top of the hill to catch up again. The men were all waiting on the top of the hill. From there they had all around visibility and they could see no Normans on the high ground.

  All the men had the same question. Did he get William? He had to answer truthfully, "I don't know. I killed one very important man, but missed another. I can only hope that a Valkyrie has chosen to take William today. We will know he is dead if the army turns around and makes back to York. If it continues then I chose the wrong target. How about the rest of you. Are their widows in Norman palaces today?"

  They had time only for a quick count, because it was not safe being so visible. All together including Raynar, the men claimed five nobles and four knights most likely dead or dying. They all had nervous smiles on their faces as they rode down the other side of the hill. They took the sheep path that ran along the other side of the hills from the Roman street and towards Blackstone Edge.

  There was no way to watch the next roadblock they had created, at the crevasse, without exposing themselves to the scouts. Black clouds were boiling up over the western ridge. The wind was icy and occasional bits of hail stung their faces. They took a vote on whether to rest in the next vale, as it was known to have drinking water and some stunted trees to break the wind. Alan decided it. "We are too tired and too excited to go much further without one of us mis-stepping. We can afford a short rest and some treats to settle our stomachs."

  They stretched their legs, drank some icy water, and munched down on stale but very sweet honey cakes. They were pressed from barley meal, honey and dried blue berries. "I'm willing to wager that this trail will come out at the lower cave below the Blackstone trap," said Jonas. The other men murmured in agreement though they could not yet see the telltale teeth of the edge. "What are we going to do at the trap? We can't hold it against such numbers."