Hoodsman: Courtesans and Exiles

by Smith, Skye

  At the skiff they bundled chests into sacks and padded them with the coarse wild grass from the church yard, such that no sack was heavier than one man could carry. Raynar left them doing this while he went back to the dome and resealed it, and then used branches of a broom bush to sweep away all traces that anyone had been near the domes.

  The skiff was overfull with its precious cargo and three people. Gesa was crushed against her steering oar, and Bea was sitting on one of the bundles, and Raynar had a clumsy row. They towed the punt with the bodies behind them.

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  The Hoodsman - Courtesans and Exiles by Skye Smith

  Chapter 11 - Escaping from the longship in the Wash in July 1072

  The crew of the Anske were waiting anxiously for the return of the three treasure hunters. The ship was tied between two trees at the fork that split the River Glen from the River Welland that went to Spalding. Raynar pulled once more on the skiff's oars and glided up to the hull. The filled sacks that had taken them more than an hour to load into the skiff took mere minutes for the seamen to hurl aboard the ship.

  Beatrice stayed in the skiff, and once the cargo was taken, she was joined by two of the men who had been waiting on the ship. They were two of her husband's constables, one of whom took the oars and the other the steering of the skiff. They pointed to the punt with the two bodies that was being towed by the skiff and threw a question to Raynar, who was now standing on the tiny aft castle of the ship.

  "Spies," replied Raynar, "The Abbot of Peterburgh's spies. They were Cambridge men. Cut the punt loose and let the ebb take them out to sea. Tell the watch that there are spies about who have attacked their countess. Vicious buggers. Feel free to cripple them during questioning if you capture any."

  The constables nodded their understanding and release the punt's tow line. Then they swung the skiff around and glided away while Bea waved and waved. The oarsmen of the Anske waved back to her with their oars in a swanlike salute, and then they pulled hard and the Anske was under way.

  The mouths of the River Welland were a mess of shifting bars and muddy silt. The Anske had not sailed with Klaes's ships because four of the Anske's crew were still not back from visiting their kin. Klaes had left for Flanders on the previous morning, but he had loaned them Luft, one of his seasoned mates, to be their pilot to Flanders.

  Luft showed no confusion at all in the braided channels and kept them in the deepest of them. The wind was on shore so all progress was by oar and by ebb tide. Once they reached wider, deeper water, Raynar changed course more to the south and ordered the sail set and the starboard keelboard dropped.

  The oarsmen took one last sweep and raised their oars and let the sail fill and do their work for them. Before they could clear away their seamen's chests, which they used as rowing benches, a cry came from the bow. "Ship ahead." The ship was a long ways off, but it looked like the very same Norman patrol in a longship that they had seen when they came from Flanders.

  "Keep this course until we are through the last bar," Raynar told Luft, and then he hopped forward to stand with the bow watch.

  The longship was making straight for them. It was moving fast under sail and oar, and it was not interested in taking any of the channels that would take them safely through the bar without having to brave the breaking surf. There was a man on the bow of the longship pointing to the shore. The message was clear. They wanted the Anske to make for shore. Raynar told the watch to ignore the longship and, instead, strain their eyes and tell him what was happening on the shore.

  The watch included a young lad who had the eyes of an Anske, which was Frisian for eagle. "I see glints of sun off metal, sir. There on the beach." Now that they had been pointed out to him, Raynar could see the glints too. "Helmets or spearheads," guessed the lad, and he nodded in agreement. He hopped and struggled back to the steering post and told this to Luft.

  "Them spies must have spread the word we wus leavin'. That longship wus waitin' for us. She's twice our length and twice our oars. So what now?" asked Luft,

  "We do what they ask, Luft, we head to the beach. Here, let me take the tiller while you watch for shallows." He rose his voice over the sound of the wind and waves so that the entire ship could hear him. "Come alive you lot! We are going surfing. Don't wet your oars unless I order it, and if I order it, hop to it. Loosen the rigging. Loosen the lashings on that keelboard." When this was all done he pushed on the tiller and the bow swung around towards the shore and towards the breaking surf.

  "Men, the tide is our friend and the bar is our friend. That longship is longer, heavier, and needs deeper water than we do. I am going across the bar and hope that the longship follows us in. Then we will row along the bar looking for a channel back through to deep water. Hopefully by then the channels will be too shallow for the longship. Anyone got a better idea?"

  "No lad," Luft said, looking along the breaking waves that ran all along the bar. "Let's just hope her skipper is fool enough to follow us in."

  "Right then, let's do it," Raynar yelled out, and the oarsmen dug their oars deep to give the Anske a push of speed. "Keep telling me what the longship is doing, Luft, cause I am going to be too busy to turn to watch."

  "She's come about, too. Turned towards shore. She's thinking about escorting us in. If they were smart they would just run along outside the bar to make sure we can't turn back. Aye, she's committing herself. Must fear that once over the bar we will race back into the river."

  The Anske was running before the wind straight towards the waves that marked the edge of the bar. Raynar warned his starboard crew to keep their oars high, and his port crew to get ready to dig hard. Just as they rose up on the break, Raynar pulled the tiller hard over and yelled, "Port oars, dig in, give her some hard sweeps and then lift your oars high!"

  The Anske hovered on the swell and then turned sharply along the wave away from the longship, and the oars dipped twice and they shot forward. "Hold that keelboard down!," he yelled, "It will keep us from rolling down the wave. Spill the wind from the sail. Oh yeah! Here we go. Bowmen run forward. We need to push her nose down."

  The Anske shot along the break, being pushed by tons of white water. Raynar was watching for the same channel they had used before to get beyond this break. He couldn't see it yet. It was taking all his strength on the tiller to hold the stern of the ship from being swept down the wave. If that happened it would lead to disaster. If the ship ever turned fully side on to the waves, instead of angled forward, the ship would roll despite the keelboard. Luft's strong arms grabbed the tiller from the other side and took up some of the weight of water that Raynar was fighting.

  The feel of the ship changed ever so slightly. It was the beginning of a roll. "Starboard oarsmen. Lean over the gunnels. Add your weight to the gunnels. Now! Now! Now!" The men jumped to the order and the ship regained its balance.

  "Those fuckin' idiots on the longship are not going straight through the waves, the buggers are trying to follow us!" Luft yelled into the wind. "It is insane enough for us to try this, but they are in a longship. They really don't want to lose us."

  Raynar was too busy to risk a look over his shoulder. He could see the channel ahead. Could they make it before some part of the wave rolled them? "Port oars at the ready. Wait for it. Wait for it. Now, dig, dig, dig!" Luft and he hauled on the tiller. "Bowmen! Get back, now, quick, get back to the stern!" The nose swung up and the ship stalled, and the oars dug in on the landward side and the rudder dug in deep and the ship swung on the wave and its bow shot skyward. "All oars, row you beauties, row!" The small ship reared again and smashed into the next wave and then was through and into the channel. " Keep rowing, straight out. Drop that sail."

  Only then did Raynar risk a look over his shoulder at the longship. Some of his oarsmen were rowing standing up so that they could see it, too. Luft was yelling out a commentary to those who could not see. "She turned too soon. They didn't spill the wind. She's not going to m
ake it. She's broadside to the break. She's going over!"

  "Luft, take the tiller. Make towards her, but stay outside of the break." Raynar let go of the tiller and hopped in a broken run between men and oars up to the bow. Ahead and towards shore, the longship had been swamped by a breaking wave and now the next wave couldn't lift her, so it was forcing her over. The men aboard her were in a full panic. Some were trying to correct the course with their oars, some were trying to grab for anything that would float, and some were being thrown into the sea. The ship went over and there was a crack like thunder as its mast snapped and snagged then snagged on the bar and then there were men in the water all around the hull.

  Before the Anske was even abreast of the longship, it was a wreck, broken into two pieces and there were less than a handful of heads still on the surface. "Raynar!" yelled Luft, "please don't tell me you plan to pluck any of them out of that surf!"

  "It's no use," Raynar yelled back "They are wearing mail. They will be under before we could reach them. It's no use risking the ship for dead men." He looked at the drowning men. He knew exactly, exactly, how they were feeling at this moment. It would be all over for them in a minute. The half of the wreck without the broken mast was being carried to shore on the wash. The other half was snagged on the bottom and it seemed to be waving at them with each swell.

  Luft and the bowmen crowded around Raynar, slapping him on the back. "It was genius, lad. That bastard patrol ship won't bother our ships anymore, and no one can blame it on us. We wus just followin' their orders to go to the beach, but lost control in the wave just as they did. We survived, they didn't. That's a story that will have wings as soon as that shore patrol reaches an alehouse."

  "Perhaps they will tell it so," said Raynar without their enthusiasm, "but I worry that the abbot will grab any excuse to march on Spalding and hold the countess for the Norman courts. I wish Thorold or Klaes were there."

  "You told Thorold's constables about the spies. They wus your men once, lad, and ran with your wolfpacks. If the abbot worries the Countess for any reason, there'll be wolfpacks doin' a lot worse than worrying that effin' abbot."

  "Perhaps, but with Waltheof is on his way to Scotland with King William, that abbot will assume powers above his station. He is a dangerous man. A soldier, not a monk. I should have killed him years ago." His voice trailed off as he swung around to face his oarsmen. "Does anyone want to say a prayer for the drowned?" There were jeers. "Thought not. Luft, make for Flanders."

  There was cheering the length of the ship. Though the danger of the longship and of the surf was now finished, they were still feeling the adventure energy throbbing through their bodies.

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  The Hoodsman - Courtesans and Exiles by Skye Smith

  Chapter 12 - With a courtesan in Brugge, Flanders in August 1072

  "Friggin' 'ay," belched Luft slamming his jug down, "in all my life I've never run down a wave like that. It's the combination of that rudder and that swing keelboard. It holds you in place and keeps control in the stern where it belongs."

  Klaes had heard this story twice before. Once from Gesa, and once from Raynar, and though the words were different, the excitement at the reliving were the same. Luft's version was all wave and speed. Gesa's was all wet spray and racing around the hull with the bowmen so as to balance the weight. Raynar's was all about the longship being rolled over and over by the waves as it crushed and drowned the men who had sailed her.

  "I brought over the first of the cogs that we converted, just to try her out," said Klaes, "I agree with you. It gives a skipper more time to react to wave and wind before he gets into trouble. I will have the other ships converted when I get back to Spalding." He grabbed Gesa as she rushed by him. "It is not seemly for you to be drinking and listening to men’s stories. Find Roas and stay with her." She gave him a sour look and then ignored his advice and joined in a long line of dancing men.

  Hereward laughed aloud, and Raynar joined in with his own braying. "Don't take it to heart, Klaes," Raynar said, "she ignores Beatrice’s orders, too. She is a teenager. Rebellion is normal. Besides, she is safe enough, what with you glowering at any man who even touches her."

  Klaes looked away from his daughter with a sigh, and then grabbed Raynar and Hereward by their arms and whispered, "Is your treasure safe?"

  "Aye," replied Hereward, "I had some men build me a secret vault, and we have stashed the treasure there. Since those same men are leaving with you to go back to their families near Sherwood Forest, then my new vault will remain a secret." He looked at Raynar. "Speaking of safe, Raynar, Count Robert is in Brugge and he wishes to speak with you." He had to immediately grab the lad and pull him back down into his seat. "No, sit down, tomorrow will do. Tonight let us celebrate the future of our company, and help these men celebrate the loss of the last Norman patrol ship."

  The next time that Gesa swung by, Raynar grabbed her by the arm and sat her on his knee and whispered into her ear, "In the morning, if you are well-rested, and looking beautiful, and are dressed in one of Roas's best frocks; if all that, then you can escort me to the court of Count Robert of Flanders." She looked at him with wide bright eyes, and then ran to find Roas in her quarters.

  "Where is she off to?" Klaes asked.

  "I told her that it is not seemly for a young woman to be drinking and listening to men’s stories. I told her to find Roas and stay with her." Both Raynar and Hereward laughed at the look on Klaes's face, and then told him to upend his jug for bringing such a sour puss to a celebration table.

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  Raynar and Gesa entered Brugge in style on Klaes's three ships, which were towed into the city docks to pick up a cargo of wine, but also of small but costly amounts of spices and silk. A dozen of the oarsmen escorted them through the lanes of Brugge. The men were dressed in their best tunics and with hair and beards trimmed.

  Though Raynar was in his best clothes, Gesa wore borrowed finery that were of last year's Parisienne cut. Gesa was studiously walking with poise and posture and was beyond beautiful. Her tall Frisian stance with straight back and wide shoulders and her golden hair pleated down her back, made every man notice the woman, not her clothes, and made every woman loath her on sight.

  A crier was paid to announce them as they made their way towards the new Count's current residence, which used to be the palace of old Count Baldwin's mistress. They were shown immediately into the great hall where court was already in session. They were announced but since neither had a title, they were not even looked at by the richly-dressed people in the hall.

  Except that is, for Count Robert, who on hearing the name 'Raynar of the Peaks', turned and made a quick apology to some duchess. He walked quickly through the throng vying for his attention, hooked one arm through Raynar’s and wrapped the other around Gesa's thin waist, then hurried them out through a small and guarded side entrance and away from the throngs in the great hall.

  He did not speak to them until they were upstairs and in a delightful room decorated in bright colors and with a balcony that looked over a canal. "Raynar, you are back just in time," he said and then paused while he tried to place Gesa's face. "Lady, do I know you?"

  Gesa had not lived with a countess for half a year without absorbing some noble manners. She did her best curtsy, lost her balance and fell into the count's arms. With an apology, she rubbed her young body against him as she tried to right herself. Then she made a long job out of straightening his clothes and straightening hers, all the while hunching her wide shoulders together so that the count had a lovely view of her young firm breasts.

  "No, we haven't met, Your Grace," she told him softly. "My name is Gesa and I have just arrived from the court of the Countess of Spalding."

  Raynar watched abashed as she flaunted herself at this man. He tried not to watch as her right hand, the one that was tugging down his tunic to straighten it, lost its grip on the fabric and hovered over his britches instead. She was u
sing her healer's touch to warm the man's cock. It was jerking and growing as Raynar watched, or rather, tried not to watch. The count was already feeling delicious from his view down her cleavage, but now he was almost moaning in delight.

  "I feel overwhelmed to be in your company, Your Grace," she sighed, "indeed, a bit faint. Perhaps I could sit." Gesa flashed him a smile that would seduce the pope. This, from a tomboy who over the past three days had piloted a skiff through marsh canals, slashed a man's face with a knife, hauled treasure, raced back and forth to balance a ship that was riding wild surf, and then had danced with a line of drunken seamen in an alehouse of shady repute.

  In her clumsiness to reach the large chair that was behind them she overbalanced the Count and the backs of his knees were stopped by the edge of the seat and he fell into it with her on top of him. Due to the angle, her back was not supported and she continued to fall backwards, with her bottom now rubbing against his swelling cock and with her hands flailing to grasp his shoulder so as not to go over backwards completely. She caught her balance by raising one leg high enough for the folds of the skirt to fall away and show the Count a long and shapely leg.

  After much repositioning, rebalancing, and squirming she ended up sitting across his lap with her arms around his neck and her face resting on his shoulder. Raynar could just barely hear her whisper. "That fall was more fun than it should have been. I seem to have something of yours poking between my legs."

  The count suddenly became aware of Raynar's stare, and felt a touch of guilt. "Is Gesa kin of yours?"