Hoodsman: Courtesans and Exiles

by Smith, Skye

  "So which place first?" asked Henryk of Eustace. "Favreshant or Witham?"

  "Witham? But that is north of here in Essex," Raynar interrupted. "What use will Witham be for staging your ships from Boulogne to London?"

  "No use at all," replied Eustace, "but most of the estates of my father's Honour of Boulogne are in Essex, and Witham is the court for them. The Conqueror would never have ceded estates near Dover to the Boulonnais. Oh no, they would have been too useful to us, which is why my father tried to take Dover for himself.

  No, instead most of our estates are in Essex, and even north of Essex nearer to Cambridge, Bedford and Huntingdon. The only estate that may help us to stage ships was ceded to my father by mistake. A confusion of village names. That is Favreshant on the Thames estuary. You reach it from the Swale water that creates the Isle of Sheppey."

  "It seems to me, my lord," suggested Henryk, "that it is more important to see if Favreshant is useful to us, than to see how the tenants of Essex are doing. After all, they have not been Boulogne's tenants for twenty years now. They will be more of a book-keeping problem than a trade problem."

  "Agreed, let's to Favreshant then," Eustace decided and Henryk left him to go and yell some more orders. "Ray, thank you for bringing the bowmen, but do you think they are really necessary now that Count Robert has taken his barons back to Normandy?"

  "There is another revolt of the earls brewing," Raynar replied, "and the barons view you as a turncoat. They fully expected Boulogne to side with Robert of Normandy and the richest barons of England, not with King Henry and his sheriffs. I don't want a repeat of last autumn."

  Mary leaned forward and kissed Ray on the cheek at the mention of last autumn. Last autumn she had been abducted and raped by William Mortain, the Earl of Cornwall. It had been Ray, and his giant of a friend John, who had sent out the hue and cry across the southern shires to find her so she could be rescued.

  As an afterthought she asked, "All of those hoodsmen did receive their pardons for their part in saving me, didn't they? I delivered them to the friar at Moors Cross as they asked, even though there seemed to be twice as many pardons as I expected."

  Raynar chuckled to himself at the mischief that he and John had done by adding a few extra names to the list of men to receive pardons. He put a hand on Eustace's arm and told him, "Be thankful that I brought only ten bowmen and not a full pack of thirty. It should be enough now that weasel William Warenne has fled to Normandy, though I wish he would have taken William Mortain and the whole Belleme clan along with him."

  Something popped into Mary's mind and she spoke it, cutting off her husband's next words. "Did you know that it was Warenne who first asked for Edith's hand in marriage? When she was a young teen. It was his asking that brought her to the attention of King Rufus, and you know what trouble that caused."

  "Anyway, Ray, thanks," Eustace now cut Mary off. "Umm, forgive me for asking a foolish question, but Henryk knows you as Captain Raynar. Would that be Captain Raynar of Oudenburg in Flanders? The same man who accompanied Count Robert of Flanders to Constantinople back in '96?"

  "That's me. It took you long enough to remember, but don't be embarrassed. I tend to hide my past from nobility, and playact at roles that obscure my identity. Robert of Normandy still hasn't recognized me, and yet in years past we have eaten together, ridden together, and have shared the same women." He noticed 'the look' cross Mary's face, so he hurriedly added, "not recently, mind you."

  "It was the 'captain' label that stirred my memory of you," replied Eustace. "Do you still captain ships?"

  "Not anymore. I leave that to younger souls. A ship is a working machine, and needs to be worked all the time to earn its keep. I get pulled so many ways by my adventures, that I cannot be tied to one ship. I still have shares in a few, mind you."

  "A few," snorted Henryk as he eavesdropped. "Oh aye, Cap'n Raynar has shares in a few, all right. It was Ray here who switched the Oudenburg fleet over to the rule of eight."

  "The rule of eight?" Mary repeated, making it a query.

  "You know, your grace, for sharing," Henryk said. "Halves, quarters, eighths. The North Sea is a dangerous sea for ships and many are lost with all hands. When a ship is lost, its village is also lost because it leaves a village of widows and orphans, and hunger and poverty. But not with the rule of eight.

  No more than an eighth of a crew can be from the same village. The result is that the village men that used to all crew on one ship, now crew on eight ships, or more. The ship is welcomed in at least eight villages as if it were home. The ships all help each other and don't prey on each other because they are all crewed by cousins and brothers.

  The rule of eight works for sharing the costs and the earnings, too. For each ship flying the Oudenburg pennant, Count Robert of Flanders has an eighth, the skipper has an eighth, the owners have a quarter, and the crew a half. It makes for profitable and peaceful ships, and profitable and peaceful villages."

  "So you have an eighth share in this ship, Captain?" Mary asked.

  Henryk blushed red and tried not to look at Eustace. "Umm, this ship is not from Oudenburg, your grace. Boulogne runs their ships a different way. Most of my crew are from the same village. You and your husband own this ship, and the earnings and costs are all yours."

  She was aware of his embarrassment and changed the subject. "So how many ships do you have shares in, Ray?"

  "I have no idea anymore, love. I haven't been to Oudenburg for years."

  "May as well ask him how many children he has around the North Sea," laughed Henryk. The men around him also laughed. Raynar began to laugh too, but then Mary stared daggers at him, which spoiled his fun.

  Raynar took Mary's cue to change topics. The jest had obviously been hurtful to her. Her mother had been Queen Margaret of Scotland, but her blood father was not actually the King. Margaret and he had been lovers off and on for decades, whenever he put into her port. That, of course, was an absolute secret, especially from her husband Eustace and her brother-in-law, King Henry. The nobility had no sense of humour about such things.

  "So, what do you expect to find in Favreshant besides trouble?" he asked Eustace. "That is in Kent, yes? A shire where most estates were held by Odo and the rest of the Mortain clan."

  "What I am hoping for is a foothold in Kent. A safe harbour for my ships to use for now, while I try to arrange a trade of my estates in Essex for a safe harbour along the Straits of Dover facing Boulogne."

  "Hah, not bloody likely," Henryk replied. "There is not a baron in Normandy or Kent who would want you to have control of ports on both sides of that Strait. Especially since you are more friendly with France and Flanders than with Normandy."

  "So the Peace of God still holds, then. France still does not threaten you?" asked Raynar.

  "Yes, thank God. With my brothers giving up their Honours in the Germanies so that they can be the rulers of Jerusalem, and me spending so much time, first in the East and now in England, my poor aged mother has been alone as the regent for a long time."

  "I've met your mother before. Ida can handle it. She has all the churches and monasteries on her side. After all, she has been generous with them, and to Cluny." Raynar was ready to explain that it was the holy men of Cluny that had brought the Peace of God about. The peace that allowed pilgrims and non-combatants to travel in relative safety, without constantly being preyed upon.

  He decided that he didn't need to explain. Henryk knew it because he had taken ships to and from the Mediterranean Sea. Eustace knew it because he had traveled the Rhine-Danube-Black Sea route to Constantinople. Mary knew it because she had been raised in a convent.

  "Ida is getting old, Ray," Eustace sighed. "She wants to retire to the convents that she has built, and work in the empire of saints rather than with sinners like us."

  The ship was entering the snaking part of the Thames that would lead them to the narrows at Woolwich. "It's nice to have the extra men on the oars, Ray," said Henryk looking ar
ound. After Woolwich the river widened and they would be able to set the sails. "I notice they are all bowmen. Do your ships still have the sign of a longbow stitched into their sail?"

  "Oh aye," Raynar replied. "It gives would-be raiders fair warning that they may be shot at by yard-long arrows if they worry us. Raiders tend to give our ships a wide berth, while trade ships gather in around us for the same reason."

  "Do you miss the old days, Ray? Do you miss the sea and the workings of a good ship?"

  "Of course," he sighed.

  * * * * *

  * * * * *

  The Hoodsman - Courtesans and Exiles by Skye Smith

  Chapter 2 - Learning to be skipper in Oudenburg, Flanders in June 1072

  The grizzled old man clipped a hand across the back of young Raynar's head. "Foolish lad. Don't look at the oarsmen or the sail. Pay attention to the waves. The waves are all." They watched the windswept waves running double a man's height across the bar. "Are you counting, then how many since the last small one?"

  "Six," Raynar replied.

  "Right, so start counting them and when you reach five you give the orders." The old man stood aside. This Englishman was quick to learn. He had a feeling for hulls and wind and waves, but he enjoyed it too much. He needed a good scare to make him respect the powers he was playing with. He looked down the rows of oarsmen awaiting the order. "You, the one with the death wish," he pointed his arm and yelled, "put your brynja on, now." The felted wool of the sheepskin lined leather jerkin could keep you afloat for precious minutes if you fell overboard.

  "Five!" Raynar yelled, and then yelled down the deck, "Row! Row! Row!" and once they were making way he pushed the tiller hard over and the cog slipped between waves and into the path of the sixth wave. "Faster! Row, you buggers!" he yelled as the wave loomed behind him. The stern rose as the foot of the wave reached them.

  "Now, all of you forward!" he yelled to the ten men without oars. They scrambled forward keeping their balance by grabbing the shoulders of those doing the rowing. The balance of the boat changed. The stern became lighter.

  "There, do you feel it?" asked the old master. "Do you feel the hull slide? You are wave-sliding now, boy. Keep an eye on the bow and be ready to call the men back to balance the ship if the bow dips too deeply. You never want to drive your bow under a wave."

  It was a feeling like no other. There were hoots and cheers from the oarsmen who had raised their oars high to save them accidentally touching the sea and turning the ship. It was like you were sliding down a snowy hill on a giant sled except that the hill was alive all around you and kept rising behind you.

  "Yaaahhhh!" Raynar found himself yelling. This was frightening and thrilling both at the same time. They must be sliding along the waves at well over ten knots. The wave was being pushed over by the wind and the bar, but they were in front of the spray and moving with it.

  "Right, now, you are over the bar. Now, call your men to the stern to lift the bow so that you can run her as far up the beach as you can." Raynar did as he was told, and so did the men who were right forward in the bow. They struggled up hill to get back to the stern. The ship leveled out as the wave lost its peak, and then the bow raised as the weight of the moving men put more weight astern.

  "Row! Row! Row!" Raynar yelled and the ship kept its speed by the strength of shoulders and backs. "Drop the stern anchors!" he called and the men now on each side of him threw the great weighted hooks away from the gunnels on either side. "Leeboard up!" His voice rang out again. Two oarsmen had already shipped their oars and were on standing-by beside the starboard leeboard. They heaved on its lever, and once it was moving the buoyancy of the wood swung it up the rest of the way. The men lashed its lever tight just as the hull made a grinding noise as it lodged itself on the beach.

  "Run the fore anchors up the beach. Tighten the aft anchors." Men timed their leap over the fore gunnels with the next wave and ran out of the way of the next wave while they hauled the anchors. Once all four anchor lines were taut, the rest of the men went over the sides and waded to the beach.

  Raynar took some deep breaths to calm the energy that was raging through him, and he turned and looked at the bar from this side. It was marked by a continuous line of white water. The rows of waves outside the bar stretched far away into deep water.

  "You did that well, young'n." The old face was even craggier when he smiled. "Remember, that once you are on the wave, the safest thing is to ride it through. If you change your mind and try to turn out of it, you risk being rolled side on. If you think you may have to change your mind, then drop the sail before you start and do it all by oar."

  "Well, thank you for showing me how," said Raynar.

  "You're a trader, not a raider, so you won't be doing many beach landings, but if a storm catches you out, you will be glad of this practice. When we go to leave, you will see the main disadvantage of these new rudders over the steering oars. You don't have one at each end."

  The old one stayed aboard, but Raynar joined his men on the beach and walked with them to the highest point of the dunes. They were on one of the barrier islands that were created by storm surges, and protected the low flat land around Brugge from those very same storm surges. From the high point they could see the towers that marked Brugge and those that marked Oudenburg further south.

  Out to sea there were large sails along the horizon, and small fishing boats closer in. He watched one fishing boat catch a ride on a wave over the bar and then immediately turn and go back out. The man at his shoulder cackled, "The buggers are riding the waves for fun. Crazy Flems".

  As Raynar watched, another small boat caught a wave and instead of sliding straight into shore, this boatman angled the boat to the breaking wave and used his sail and the beachside oar to keep just ahead of the spray. They rode the wave well down the beach until, with one mighty pull on the oar, they turned the small craft into and over the wave.

  "Jesus!" said the man beside him. "They are using the waves to carry them along the shore. Look how far they have gone in a few minutes." He punched Raynar in the arm. "Don't you be getting any ideas. Those light fishing skiffs bob like corks."

  "Come on men!" Raynar yelled out, "the wind is picking up. We need to get back to deep water before it raises the shore break even higher."

  Getting back out beyond the bar took them the best part of an hour. It was all by muscle power. First they skittered along the shore watching for a channel caused by the water rushing back out.

  "See that place, where the waves break again and again in the same spot? See how the waves seem to stand at the same place? That break is caused by a current of water rushing back to the sea. It's a bloody dangerous wave, 'cause it is always breaking, but believe it or not, it is the easiest place for a ship to cross the bar."

  Raynar swung the ship into the now visible current and headed directly towards the standing wave. The sail was down, the oars hovered waiting for his command. The oarless men were all in the stern with him. "Now! Row! Row! Row!" he yelled. The men put the their backs into it as one, and the ship shot forward faster than the current. He could feel the control return to the rudder.

  "Oars up!" he commanded just before the next wave broke around them. "Now again, row!" Again they shot forward and this time the bow lifted, lifted, lifted and men lost their balance and rolled backwards, and then they were on the crest and over. "Keep rowing, don't stop till I order it!" he shouted. The ship rose again, but this swell was not breaking, and they picked up speed down the back side of it. And then the swells became more normal, and he changed course to southward and for home.

  Further south they turned to enter a river mouth. At this tide there was a small bar to cross to gain the deepest channel towards Plassendale and the docks there. After the beach landing, it seemed like nothing. Raynar found himself waiting for the largest wave so that he could ride another before the calm waters of the port. The old man clipped his head again. "At sea, you never do things the hard way. Easy
is a blessing."

  * * * * *

  "The signal flags are changing on the motte tower at Plassendale!" yelled the watch from the burg tower. Oudenburg's walls and tower were not tall, but then you did not need much height to see across the two miles of damp flat land to the tiny village of Plassendale. The trees were purposefully trimmed low so they did not block the view between the two towers.

  Hereward walked to the guard room while he waited for the flags to be read. He rousted the men there from the inevitable dice game and told them to get the horses saddled. He grabbed the man closest to him by the arm and told him to rouse Master Raynar. Raynar had been asleep since he arrived back from his last training sail.

  Raynar arrived just as the watch was yelling down the message from Plassendale. "Incoming, three coastal cogs, no weapons showing!"

  Hereward gave the order to mount up and he, Raynar, and twenty bowmen rode through the gate. Most of the garrison at Oudenburg were bowmen. This made sense, since their main duty to Count Robert 'the Frisian' of Flanders in return for their safe residence at this damp town, was to control the ships' traffic that used this southern channel into the trading city of Brugge. The channel was narrow enough to be completely controlled by archers from one side, especially if the archers had the advantage of the towers' height.

  They passed the building site of the Abbey of Saint Peter. Hereward had constant arguments with Arnulf of Soissons, the man funding the project, about his use of the ancient burgh walls as a quarry for finding Roman-dressed stones. The foundations of the watch towers were also Roman. Hereward always lost the arguments because Arnulf was such an engaging man, and besides, the monk made damn fine ale.

  By the time they reached Plassendale tower, the three cogs were almost abreast of the tower and were rowing for the docks. Hereward and Raynar watched the ships for a few minutes while the bowmen they had brought mounted the tower, then they walked down and stood on the floats and watched while the dock hands tied off the lines thrown to them from the ships.