Hoodsman: Courtesans and Exiles

by Smith, Skye

  "Of course not. You may start at any of our houses, that is, any of our larger houses," replied the monk.

  "Which means that you must be constantly carrying messages back and forth along the pilgrim route to support this service."

  "We would in any case," sighed the monk. This man asked too many inciteful questions, but as he was sent by the count, the answers must be truthful. "The houses must stay in touch for many reasons, not just for pilgrims."

  "One last question." Raynar could see that the busy monk was quickly becoming exasperated. "What if I am going somewhere other than Constantinople..."

  "...then you would have said so to us, and a copy of our records would have gone to the other place..." the monk interrupted.

  "... but decided to go to Constantinople after all. Could I still get my gold?"

  "Of course. It may take longer, but during the delay you would be a guest of that house. They would have to send to the other house for the copy of the record." The monk saw that Raynar was about to add to the scenario, so he added, "And if you have misplaced your cross, we can still identify you by your name and code word from the record." The monk strode across to another desk and showed Raynar a sample of such a record.

  Raynar looked at the record for a few moments. "Do you not worry that now I know the names of men that have deposits, and their code words? Like this one. I now know that John of MeetKerke has the code word of mflwulsj."

  "You know nothing, young man. John's code word is used to encrypt his code word before writing it on this record. Are you are familiar with codes and ciphers and encryption?"

  "I have used simple codes and have broken coded messages from others," admitted Raynar.

  "You give us a word, we use the word to set our code, and then encode the very same word. You, of course, are so suspicious, that we would allow you do the encoding yourself. Only someone who knows John's original word, and has our code book, can create mflwulsj a second time. That would only happen between John and one of our treasurers. In this case in Constantinople."

  "That is brilliantly conceived, absolutely brilliant. How did you think of such a thing?" asked Raynar.

  "It was the Greeks who described it, about thirteen hundred years ago," replied the monk dryly. "Your suspicions are allayed, then. Will you give a good report to the Count?"

  "I will tell him that all he need do is to trust the monasteries," Raynar said in an encouraging tone. "Of course, then he will ask whose man the abbot is."

  The monk sighed. "Tell the count that this house has already conformed to the Cluniac Reform. It was so dictated by Archbishop Siegfried who attended at Cluny. Our abbot is now chosen by this order and from this order. We no longer have an abbot who is a lay noble appointed by the lords that donated land to us." The monk stared at him. "Now, if you would ask at the kitchen, I am sure they would feed you before you go back to the library."

  Raynar knew how to be dismissed gracefully and thanked the monk and made for the kitchen. It would be good to fill his stomach before returning to the library to finish copying the map of the pilgrim's route through Hungary to Constantinople.

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  The Hoodsman - Courtesans and Exiles by Skye Smith

  Chapter 16 - An invitation to a wedding in August 1072

  Sometimes, like now, young Raynar wondered if he should have become a monk. He had thoroughly enjoyed his stay at the monastery, eating and chatting with the monks and had appreciated the peace of the place. He could certainly spend years in their library reading and learning. The main stumbling block was that he loved adventuring, and sailing, and women.

  Women. He wondered if Gesa would agree to sleep with him again. They hadn't since Spalding, and if she wouldn't, perhaps he should begin a search for a willing widow. He reached the palace and was on his way to Claire's wing when a footman recognized him and called him by name.

  "The Count requests your presence, sir," the footman said and began to lead him to the Count's office. They had taken no more than ten steps when a lady in waiting, a bit over weight but with beautiful violet eyes, also called his name.

  "The Countess requests your presence, sir," the lady said with a sparkling smile.

  Raynar looked at the footman, "You will have to wait for me here, lad. I plan to follow her, for she is so much prettier than you." She led him to the Countess's office, which was in an alcove attached to her bed chamber.

  "Pardon my appearance, Your Grace," he said as he bowed courteously to her, "but I have been with dusty monks and their dusty books. I assumed there was some urgency in your summons."

  "Thank you for coming, Raynar, and of course I forgive your dustiness. I wish to speak with you about your girl, Gesa."

  His felt sick. This had to be very bad news to be so urgent. Had that fool Gesa actually bedded the Count, or perhaps he should rephrase that to, had that fool Count actually bedded Gesa? He could think of nothing to say, so he just bowed again.

  "Claire has told me that Gesa wishes to become courtesan, and that she is therefore training her as one, in exchange for her company and her caring." The Countess stopped while Violet Eyes poured them some wine, and then she was waved out of earshot. "Do you have any objections to my supplying her first commission? It would mean that she would need to travel to Paris."

  "What is there for me to object to? Gesa's desire to become a courtesan is only because she desires to live at court to see what it is about. An invitation to the grand court of Paris would please her greatly."

  "Don't play the innocent with me," the countess complained, "my commission will include befriending my daughter Bertha and seeing to her safety after she is wed to Philippe of France. That court is nothing more than a well-decorated den of sinners. She will be my agent, my spy, in that court."

  "Presumably," Raynar thought carefully, "her status in that court would be that of a lady of the queen consort of France. She would therefore be protected as if she were a royal. All would assume that she was in your confidence to have been sent with Bertha. What is there to object to? Is there something else to this commission?"

  "Tutors will concentrate on teaching her French, and French manners, and fencing, while Claire will concentrate on teaching her how to please men." She cocked her head to encourage a response, and when there was none she continued, "using my husband Robert to practice on."

  "Ahh"

  "You do not object?"

  "Madam, so long as it is her decision and she is not forced, then if you have no objections, how can I raise any?"

  "But..." the countess prompted, "you were about to say 'but'."

  "But what if she comes to harm or comes with child. What then?"

  "She will be well cared for, as will any child by her." The Countess held her hand across her heart. "This I swear." He began to rise, but she motioned for him to remain. "Gesa is sometimes quite strange. Can you tell me things about her that will help me to understand her?"

  "She is sixteen. She is the daughter of a seer who was burned as a witch by William of Normandy's priests. She grew up in a communal village in the Frisian way. She was taught the healers' ways by her mother and by other ealderwomen. She was taught the ways of horses, and weapons, and boats and fishing by the men of the village. Do you need more?"

  "Is there more?"

  "She is a comely flirt and she uses it as a weapon, yet she likes wearing men’s clothes perhaps as much as she likes silk. She has yet to kill a man, but I watched her carve up a man's face because he threatened her previous countess. She has disturbing dreams. I think she may be a seer. More?"

  The countess urged more.

  "Her birth father is Klaes, a warlord from the English fens, who has three ships that ply the Brugge trade."

  "Did she see her mother burned?"

  "No, but the story is legend. Her mother's last act before the scorching took her mind away, was to kick a faggot from the pyre and at the priest. The wood put flame to the long summer grasses a
round the priest which then set his robes alight. He ran in panic, which fanned the flames, and spread the flames through the grasses, and then a gust of wind took the grass fire to the bailey and to its bridge and burned them both."

  "Then she was a witch?" muttered Gertrude.

  "The Normans are convinced of it, but she was no witch. She was a mother and a wise ealderwoman who was a good healer but a poor seer."

  "Thank you. Raynar. My husband also wishes to talk with you. You can reach his office through that door. Shall I knock for you?"

  "Please."

  The Countess delivered Raynar to her husband, and he was motioned to sit while the Count finished reading a letter.

  "So, Raynar," the Count said, sitting up straight and putting the letter aside, "what is your advice about the monastery?"

  "I have just come from the monk-treasurer who told me much more than he wished to. The business is well-thought out. Your envoy must travel as a pilgrim, of course, but that will be no hardship for someone who studied to be a monk. Whatever coin you deposit for him at this monastery, he will have access to in Constantinople. I believe it."

  "Good, I will give the command for him to start his journey. Is there anything else about the monastery?"

  "Yes, it is in your interest to support their Cluniac Reform. It has two main parts. The first is the Peace of God, which protects travelers and innocents. The second allows an order to choose their own abbots from trusted monks. This will increase the trust of the travelers in the safety of that which they leave in the monastic trust." He handed a scroll to Robert. "Here is a copy of the treatise that I had the scriptorium copy for you."

  Robert groaned. "I will find a monk to read it to me."

  "No need, I had the monks translate it from Latin as they copied it."

  Robert still did not look eager. "I will have Gertrude read it to me, then." He put the scroll down. "I also wish to speak to you about Gesa."

  "You are bonking her?"

  "Today, the first time."

  "Good?" asked Raynar knowing the answer.

  "Wonderful."

  "If she is happy with it, then so am I. All I request is that you are gentle and that you keep in mind that she is only sixteen. She talks like a fully matured woman, but she is not."

  "You have heard that Gertrude is taking her to Paris," said Robert, "to attend Bertha while she weds King Philippe. I would be pleased if you would attend us as well."

  "Will the Conqueror be there?"

  "Unlikely," replied Robert.

  "Then I would be pleased to attend you. Do you wish me as a guard or as a companion?"

  "Both," replied Robert, "someone at my shoulder who is without any connection to Paris."

  "And how many of my bowmen?"

  "Thirty, to ride as scouts and the perimeter."

  "Them plus your knights and lords." Raynar did a quick count in his head. "That is a small army."

  "My claim on Flanders is newly won," said Robert. "My knights and lords must stay to defend it until after Philippe is well and wed to Bertha. The wedding party will be woman heavy, and sword light. Thus the need for your bows."

  "Done. You may count on them."

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  The Hoodsman - Courtesans and Exiles by Skye Smith

  Chapter 17 - Gesa befriends Bertha in Brugge in August 1072

  The bathing room in Claire’s wing was pleasant. On the other side of the outside wall was her kitchen, and the grand kitchen hearth. The wall was warmed by the hearth, which warmed the room. A simple shout through the doorway and warmed water was brought. He stripped down and washed, and then put just his long silk shirt back on. The other clothes needed a clean so he put them in the now empty bucket to be passed back to the kitchen.

  He chuckled. Palace life was so much like village life, and he was only now realizing it. In Gesa's village, for instance, during cold weather or at times when the men were at sea, the women and children congregated at the village longhouse and kept each other safe and amused. When the men were away, the village was a woman's world.

  This palace was simply a village in one building. When the men were away the women came from the manors around to keep each other safe and amused. It was a women's world. The most striking difference was the amount of coin it took to keep this palace running.

  He chuckled again. In Gesa's village the women were always touching his silk shirt and asking to wear it. In this palace there was so much silk about, that there was no novelty in it at all.

  He collected his boots, his sword belt and his purses, the one for silver that he wore on the belt, the one for gold that he wore hidden under his left arm. His rooms were upstairs, which meant he had to walk past the parlour and he hoped he would not meet anyone while dressed in nothing but his long silk shirt. That was when he heard a crashing sound from the parlour.

  He drew his sword, the same thin Syrian blade that he had won due to the battle of Stamford Bridge, and rushed through the door. There was a girl on the ground, and Gesa was standing above her fending off a swordsman. She had parried high, a stupid move that left her body open to a good swordsman. He raced towards the melee just as the girl on the ground leaped up and shoved her sword up and into the man's stomach. Her wooden sword.

  The swordsman was winded by it, nothing more, but he was now pushing Gesa to the ground and turning to face Raynar with his wooden sword. "Hold!" shouted Gesa. "Hold, both of you! He is our fencing master. Raynar, drop your blade." It was lucky that the man was a master, for anyone else would not have been able to parry the one-two thrust of the wickedly fast Syrian blade.

  "Excuse me, sir", said Raynar. "I though you an attacker."

  "I am glad the girl called out, for I would have been spitted by your next move, if you were about to do the Fournier advance."

  "I have never heard of the Fournier advance, and I am clumsy with a blade, so you were probably quite safe."

  "I was teaching the girls defense, not fencing. If Gesa is to protect Bertha, then it makes sense that they should learn to work together. In this drill, Bertha should go down, Gesa should open the man's body, and then Bertha should strike up from the ground. I thought they did it quite well."

  "Thank you for today's lessons," said Gesa, "I think it is enough for one day." She helped the master gather his gear and then escorted him to the door and barred the door behind him.

  "Raynar," she said, "meet Bertha. Bertha is to be wed to Philippe of France within the month and I am to attend her." Bertha came to him and curtsied. She was the slightly overweight young lady with the violet eyes. She was still holding her wooden sword, as was Gesa, and Gesa pushed another wooden sword into Raynar's hands.

  "Oh no," Raynar complained, and spread his elbows and pointed to his shirt. "I am not decently dressed to fence with young women."

  "That is a good thing, for these gowns we wear are too constricting and too hot. The master has us practice in them so we get used to defending ourselves fully clothed, but ... Oh, here Bertha, undo me, and I will undo you, and we can shed these heavy gowns."

  "No, you mustn't." His words, of course, did not stop Gesa, though they made Bertha slow down. Gesa finished dropping her gown to the polished wooden floor, and stepped out of it, and then pulled Bertha's down. Both women were wearing silk shifts underneath, and though they were well covered, a covering of form molding silk was most inappropriate for mixed company.

  Bertha came at him with her sword, and Raynar parried her slashes. She was perhaps two or three years older than Gesa, and more developed. Much more developed. Her breasts wobbled under the silk, and he was caught on the knuckles by her stick because he had lost his concentration while watching them.

  Gesa laughed at him. "See, I told you Bertha, everyman looses his attention when he sees a womanly breast."

  The women were enjoying themselves dancing and prancing and thrusting and slashing at him. He was nervous of using too much force and hurting them by accident, for h
e did not have the master's control of the point. After a moment, they stopped the attack and he relaxed.

  "See, Bertha, it is the same with all men." She reached forward with the stick and lifted the hem of the front of his shirt up and showed Bertha his swollen member. "Go ahead, rub your breasts against his arm and we will see his full extent."

  Raynar tried to back away, but he was already against the wall and he shot Gesa a look and said, "What are you up to, you wicked girl?"

  "Bertha is to be wed to a king," Gesa explained incredulously, "and yet she knows nothing of a man's body. I wish to use you as a model to show her. We cannot use her stepfather, so you are the only other man who will not take advantage. Pretend you are Philippe. Both of you pretend he is Philippe."

  "Oh no," he said and tried to push past the women. Bertha grabbed his arm and nestled it between her breasts. Gesa grabbed his cock and squeezed it. He backed away again, but they did not leave go.

  "You see, Bertha," Gesa said, "you use your breasts to get him hard, and then you simply grab it as if it were the hilt of a sword. Tighten and loosen and tighten and loosen your grip. They will not walk away, and they will stop anything that they were doing or thinking of doing. They are yours. Here, you try."

  Gesa let him go and Bertha grabbed him, and began the little squeezes. He moaned in pleasure. "No, this is risky, this is inappropriate, this is ...." Oh, this is so good, he thought, and almost lost himself to the caresses of the two young women.

  "Shh, Raynar, the doors are bolted, there is no one here but us, and it is not as if I would allow you take her. That she is saving for her wedding night. But the rest she can practice. Claire showed me some things today with Robert that every woman should know about a man. Like this..." She pressed against its base and it leapt up and swelled even more. "There, did you see that? You try, Bertha. Yes, that's the place."

  He gave up fighting his modesty, closed his eyes, and leaned back against the wall so that his legs would not collapse. They played with him and touched him and finally they kneeled on the floor and he went immediately from feeling good to feeling the rapture of lips and tongues. Just when he thought he must explode, Gesa said, "Enough, he can't hold it any more. Press up under there. Yes there. Oops, I suppose I should have warned you to move your face out of the way. Don't move, I'll get some cloths to wipe you off."