by Smith, Skye
In one smooth movement, Anske had automatically knocked another arrow. Her skill with horses was a wonder. Using just her knees and feet she was directing her mount into any open space forward while keeping her bow taught and her point aimed. Some men in front of her were diving for the ground. They had been close enough to see the effects of this lad's first shot and were giving the lad a clear field to shoot over them, all the while worried that there must be a rebellion in the prisoners.
Seeing others ducking in front of them, the axemen cleared out of the way of the mounted hoodsmen. Raynar kicked his horse forward and the other hoodsmen were close behind him. He slid to the ground beside Hereward. Hereward was trying to rise but the other man was holding him down and reaching for his knife. Raynar yelled a warning as loud as he could.
The man swung around and saw him and probably thought that he was the bowman who had killed his mate, because he let go of Hereward and leaped knife first towards Raynar. An arrow punctured him in the side underneath his knife arm. The knifepoint hit Raynar in the chest but the hand holding it failed so the knife sliced the leather of his brynja but did not penetrate the metal rings. Raynar grabbed the wounded man and lowered him gently to the ground, and then grabbed Hereward and pulled him to his feet.
Hereward's guards had pushed their way through to him now and were using the poles of their pole axes to clear a circle around him. Hereward looked over at the prisoners. It was as if the kneeling prisoners and the axemen standing above them were frozen in mid action. None moved. All stared back at him.
Inside his soul he felt like he should apologize. Two of his axemen were dead because they did not recognize him as the warlord. Instead he raised his voice in a bravado he did not feel, so that the entire field could hear him. "The next man who mistreats a prisoner will share these men's fate." All around him, men grabbed the prisoner's weapons and then backed away from them, leaving the prisoners in their armour.
Hereward looked around at the mob that he had raised to be his army. The only men who were organized and keeping a position and their ranks were the men in the abbot's armour. The men that Raynar had brought. "How.." he started to ask but Raynar had anticipated the question.
"It wasn't my doing," replied Raynar, "it was Rodor's. He told the mob of axemen at Burna to break themselves into squads, and then choose their own leader and second. The men group themselves naturally with their cousins and friends and once that was done it took them mere moments to choose the best leaders from amongst themselves. Rodor then begged neck scarves from your sister in law, and gave a white scarf to each leader and a red one to each second."
"He's a bloody genius, Rodor is," said Hereward. He motioned for a squad of abbot's men to come close, and they trotted over as one. "I am Hereward of Burna. I am the warlord here. Show the rest of this mob how to secure the prisoners and once they are secure, have them remove their armour, gently."
While that order was being carried out, Hereward mounted Raynar’s horse and ordered the mob to break themselves up into squads of twenty or thirty and choose a leader and a second. Then he dismounted again.
"It will take them an hour to mix and match and balance the numbers," stated Raynar as he moved over to the Hoodswoman, er, Hoodsman, who had save them both, and patted her knee and smiled his thanks. It was all he could do to stop himself from dragging her down off her horse to give her a huge loving hug.
"Meanwhile we need to do some planning," replied Hereward, staring at each of them and smiling knowingly.
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The Hoodsman - Blackstone Edge by Skye Smith
Chapter 24 - The Angel in Huntingdon, Northamptonshire in May 1070
Anske dismounted and was leading her horse so that she could walk with these two men. She said in a low voice so that no other men would hear her jest, "What is it about saving your lives that makes me want to jump your bones? Both of you. Here and now."
They both stared at her, too shocked to react. They could see the wild look in her eyes and the flushed face and the strong pulsing of her neck and the deep breaths making it obvious that she wasn't a lad. The battle energy was rushing through her veins. She needed to calm it, to control it.
Hereward’s guards now walked over to her and were patting her on the back and cheering her amazing control of both horse and bow. The other Hoodsmen knew her true identity, and quickly stepped closer to her with their own pats, before a careless hand or a closer look from a guard revealed to them that she was a woman.
Hereward sent his guards on various tasks to help with the organization, such as begging necks scarves from the larger houses in the burgh for the squad leaders to wear. Once things were happening, he led the Hoodsmen to an empty building near the burgh gate. When they were inside, Anske let go a girly squeal. "Is it always like that, you know, when you see the destruction that your arrow causes. I feel as powerful as a goddess."
One of the other Hoodsmen spoke glumly, "Sometimes. Usually though, you don't have time to watch because you are either ducking an axe, finding another target, or running for your effing life." All the men laughed at the truth of it. They had all lived his words much too often over the last four years.
Since all of the Hoodsmen knew she was a woman dressed as a lad, she hung her arms around Raynar's neck, pressed her body hard against his, and devoured his lips. "I begin to understand why women are raped after battles. If I, a woman, am feeling this horny, then you men must be ripe to mount anything, like rams in rutting season."
"It weren't so bad," said a Hoodsman, "until you went fer Raynar. Can you go back to acting like a lad please." Already in the mood to laugh with relief that the battle had gone so well, this was all it took to give them the full relief of rolling belly laughter. There was nothing like belly laughter to block out the lingering feeling of shear terror from a battle, and the shear exultation of still being whole and alive after the battle was finished.
They sat on benches around a table that was just a very large bench. Raynar rolled out his map of the Fens and they held it from re-rolling with a few daggers. "The more I think about it, the more I think you must take the bailey and take it quickly," he began. "Since Sweyn controls the waterways, and has cut all roadways into Ely, then Ely is your defensive fortress. From there with the ships you can control the fens and the Wash.
But it is not an offensive fortress. You cannot keep horses there. You cannot control the highways and streets from there. You cannot make lightning fast raids from there. Look where we are on this map. Look at the way the highways run and connect. For offensive strikes there is no better fortress than Huntingdon and it is connected to the defensive fortress at Ely by the river."
"The Normans are trapped in the bailey, but we hold the burgh," said one of the Sherwood Hood as he looked up from studying the map. Rodor had not only learned some French himself, but had shown his men how to read maps. "We can do all these things without wasting lives taking the bailey."
Hereward kept silent. It was his decision to make, so he did not want to color the excellent advice that he was getting.
"That is true," replied Raynar, "but there is another factor. The Normans cannot allow us to hold Huntingdon, for all of the same reasons that we want it. Even if we did nothing but sit safely in the burgh and control the bridge, that would be reason enough to make this burgh into the Norman's first target." He sat back and thought about his own words. That would bring William the bastard in range of his bow again. "I wonder if King William will lead the army that comes to push us out of the burgh."
"William is still on the continent," Hereward told him. "The odious Odo is once again the Regent in his place. William is still trying to raise another Norman army, either to bring to England as reinforcements, or to march on Flanders so he can become the Count there. I think the latter. His wife Mathilde is the daughter of the dead Count so he has some legal claim, and Philip of France is still too new to the throne to stop him."
No
w that Anske's eyes were used to the dark of the room she was glancing around. "Is that a wine skin over on that wall. I would kill for a drink. Please pass it to me." Two men jumped to pass it to her. She held it back from her lips and opened her mouth and squirted some into her mouth and then, with a very sexy red mouth, smiled and passed it on. It was the rough wine you would expect in a guardhouse, but it cleared the taste of fear and blood from her mouth.
The news that William wasn't even in the kingdom, cleared Raynar's mind. "We need to hold this burgh for as long as possible," he told them. "It will take fewer men to hold the burgh if we don't have to watch the bailey for trickery. If we hold the bailey then we have a second line of defense which should be able to hold against heavy odds at least until relief ships can be sent along the river from Ely. In other words, Ely will be very safe so long as we hold Huntingdon, and Huntingdon will be very safe as long as we take that bailey."
There was silence. "Agreed," stated Hereward, "how do we take it?"
"Fire and archers," replied Raynar, "there are twenty five more brothers at Peterburgh, but they are needed there to watch forty prisoners, and umm, Edgar's gift. Where are your bowmen? I have seen only axemen since I arrived."
"They are spread across Sweyn's ships as pilots because of their knowledge of the Fen's channels," replied Hereward. "It would take a week to gather them."
"Do you have any axemen you would trust to hold Peterburgh and it's treasure if I send for Rodor?"
Hereward was silent for some time. "They are also guiding Sweyn. You only brought thirty from Sherwood?"
"That was all the horses we could muster," replied Raynar. "Nottingham is still well garrisoned with men-at-arms who have been pulled south from York, so life has been hard in Sherwood."
"Well we have horses now. There were a hundred in the paddock at the back of the burgh," said another Hoodsman.
"That means that there will still be fifty or sixty men-at-arms in the bailey. Bugger!" swore Hereward.
"The bailey was watching when you protected the prisoners," spoke Anske. "What if you offered them terms and safe passage to Cambridge if they leave?"
"They would only accept if I allowed them to keep their armour and weapon," replied Hereward. "The axemen would never be held to such terms. They want the armour."
"Well, there is another use for this burgh, then," added Raynar. " We can use it a training ground to turn axemen into bowmen. Do you have a ready supply of Yew bows and points?"
"That we have. Your John Smith is in Ely. Almost a month back I sent some of the brothers in secret to collect him and his bowyer craftworks. He will bore you with the adventures they had crossing from Derbyshire to Ely, but they made it. You know all those Danelaw widows that came to Ely looking for husbands, well he has them working for him making bows, and harvesting bog iron for ships nails and arrow points."
"So that is where John was," said Anske and she kissed Raynar on the cheek. He had been so worried when he couldn't find his friend at Hathersage.
"Of course your realize that my axemen will be slaughtered," said Hereward, "if we siege the bailey without archers. We cannot burn the gate without the wooden bridge to the gate catching fire with it. That means that once the gate is burned, the bridge is also burned so the men will have to charge into and out of the ditch before they get to the gate. They will be slaughtered for sure."
"How fast can you have John's bows brought here?" asked Raynar. "If we are going to re-train these axemen into bowmen, we may as well start now. Perhaps if the bailey thinks we have a hundred bowmen, they will submit to terms."
"Well though, well thought." Hereward smiled at him. "I'll send word to Ely to tell them that we hold the burgh, and that we need a few ships for carrying prisoners away, and to bring us every bow and arrow immediately." He rose, but was held back by Raynar's hand while he was told that ships were needed to pick up the prisoners in Peterburgh as well. He nodded his agreement and strode outside. The other men nudged each other and followed him out into the sunshine, closing the door behind them.
Anske and Raynar looked at each other in the realization that the men had left them alone on purpose. What happened next was not their normal, slow and softly caressing sex. What happen next could only be described as frantic rutting.
An hour later couriers were on their way to Ely and to Peterburgh. One of the bowmen bound for Peterburgh had an escort of a squad of mounted axemen in the abbot's armour. Rodor must be told of the good news about the battle at Huntingdon and that there would be ships arriving to take the prisoners off his hands. They were then to stay at Peterburgh to help watch the prisoners until the ships arrived.
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Before noon of the next day, the three ships arrived at Huntingdon along the River Great Ouse from Ely. The ships to Peterburgh would take longer due to the many twists of the River Nene once it forked off from the Great Ouse.
The heavy wooden bridge at Huntingdon blocked ships from going further up the Great Ouse. For this reason there were many docks and carts along the bank. The first man to step onto the dock from the first Danish Karvi was a giant amongst giants. John the Smith was Raynar’s oldest friend and he was as high and as wide at the shoulders as a barn door. The arm that lifted Raynar off the ground had grown as large as a normal man's leg from a lifetime of pounding hot iron with massive hammers.
Not only had John brought every bow and point that he had stored at Ely, but he also brought with him every Danish oarsman who he had trained in bow craft over the past few weeks. The brotherhood had found out last year that oarsmen already had the massive strength of shoulder and back that it took to draw a Welsh longbow.
Training oarsmen in bow craft was simply a matter of training them to the feel and the aim, rather than endless months of building the strength of normal men by having them practice with a series of ever more powerful bows. Forty bow trained oarsmen now filed off the boats carrying bales of bows and arrows.
John carried his own custom bow. A bow that only John could string. Black Betty. A bow that had won him a small fortune in archery range competitions before the Normans closed down all the village archery contests. He also carried his own custom arrows. He could shoot standard bodkin arrows from his bow, but he had to short-string his bow to do it, and the arrows had no more power than when shot from a normal long bow. His custom arrows were almost a foot longer and hit with twice the force of a normal arrow.
After the ships were unloaded, the prisoners were hobbled into one of them. Once the prisoners were cleared from the burgh, Hereward had all the trained archers stand in a line with John, just out of crossbow range and facing the bailey gate. He then had four squads of axemen pick up a bow and some arrows from John's stock, and extend that line longer on each side. He then sent Raynar to wave his white neck scarf at the bailey's guard, and use his French to organize a parley.
The Norman knights that looked over the bailey wall above the gate now saw not only a few hundred axemen, but a line of well over a hundred archers, and three of Sweyn's ships. They listened to Raynar’s terms. Escorted safe passage to Cambridge along Ermine street. They bargained. They wanted to keep their armour and weapons. They wanted to include the prisoners that were already on the ships. Raynar conceded the prisoners from the ships, but not the armour and weapons. The knight commander declined the terms.
Raynar backed slowly down bridge that crossed the ditch and away from the gate. When he reached the line of bowmen, he stood beside Hereward and John and said, "John, please mark the knight in full armour standing to the left of the commander and knock him off that effing wall."
He always said please whenever he asked John to do something. John had been brought up by his very large mother to be respectful and to expect respect in return. John nocked an arrow, felt the breeze on his face, stepped into the bow with all of his immense strength, lowered the aim, and loosed. The arrow flew true and fast and struck the knight just below the shoulder blade on the right side. The forc
e of the point picked the man off his feet and he disappeared as he fell behind the wall.
"Sorry," apologized John, "the breeze must be stronger on the wall and it took the point wide of the heart."
Hereward said nothing. Like every other archer in the line, his mouth was gaping open at the shot that had completely destroyed a knight in expensive armour at well over a hundred paces.
The gaping silence of the bowmen was matched by a silence in the rows of axemen, and from the bailey. Some horses muttered to each other at the unusual behavior of their men. Hereward turned to the axemen behind him who had stopped working to watch the parley. He ordered them back to work preparing two fire carts.
There were volunteers waiting to run some ships blocks and lines up to the gate under cover of shields and arrows, and once there, spike them into the logs at each side of the gate. The blocks and lines would be used to safely haul the carts up to the gate, and then they would be set alight and protected from buckets of water by arrows.
No one was standing on the bailey wall anymore. At least no one was standing high and looking out. One head peered over the pales and waved a white scarf. Raynar walked forwards, this time covered by forty bows. The commander would accept the safe conduct of all his men to Cambridge without armour or weapons, except for the knights who would keep their best swords. Raynar accepted.
An hour later, the Normans from the bailey left the gate in single file carrying their armour and weapons which they handed one at a time to a line of axemen. Axemen who were still without armour. As each axeman took the armour he walked west into the burgh's square, while each Norman walked east and stood beside the burgh's wall, where he was searched for hidden purses and weapons. Every one of them had secreted at least one dagger and any coins they had.
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The Hoodsman - Blackstone Edge by Skye Smith
