by Smith, Skye
Alan left one bundle of bows and another of staves in his secret cave in Tideswell. They left the Peaks by heading south past Derby and then swinging hard east. In this way they quickly reached the shires where the Normans were afraid to leave their baileys, and once there they even risked using the highways. Alan reached Huntingdon first, followed the next day by Rodor, who had left two bundles of bows and two bundles of staves in Sherwood.
Both Alan and Rodor were worried about Raynar and said as much to John and Hereward. He had taken the direct route and should have been the first to reach Huntingdon.
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The Hoodsman - Ely Wakes by Skye Smith
Chapter 14 - Transporting bows in the hills of Shropshire in July 1070
"That effing bishop," whispered Raynar to the men close by. "He wasn't in Powys to complain about us. He was there to pay FitzOsbern's spies for information." He ducked his head down from peering over the ridge.
"We're fucked. They must have been told which crossing we were taking, as well as when, and that we would be moving overland." He popped his head up again. On the top of every hill and ridge that he could see, there were Norman scouts watching for them.
They sat and waited and nervously chewed on some smoked pork and ate plums. They had sent scouts back the way they had come to see if they could retreat back across the border. They dare not move until they returned. They did not need to wait long for the scouts. "Shit Ray," said one of the scouts, "there's well over a hundred mounted men following our trail. We heard dogs. They mean to find us."
"That many. Well bad news for us, but good news for Rodor and Alan. The bishop probably told FitzOsbern that we were one group and now that they have found us, they will pull all the other scouts in towards us. You lot chose the wrong wolfshead to follow."
One of the younger men, Much Miller, spoke up, "Let's just kill the scouts on the closest ridges and get away."
"They won't let us kill them, lad" replied Raynar with the realization that he must be getting old if he was calling Much a lad. "They will just run away and then turn and follow us. Their task is not to stop us, but to keep us in sight."
"We could hide until dark."
"These days that is a long hide. There is long twilight. They have dogs. They will be on us before it is dark enough," said Raynar. "Whatever we do, it must not be what they expect."
"We could ambush the rider's trailing us," offered Much.
"They may be expecting that, and if I am right about thinking we are all together, there will be more men joining them all the time," replied Raynar. "They would also be expecting us to run for it. That is why there are scouts on every hilltop. They don't care if we run, so long as they know what directions so that they can follow us."
About five of them studied the map. "We can't go back west. They expect us to make a run to the East. That leaves north or south." Raynar said pointing this out on the map. "South would certainly be unexpected, but that is because to do so would be suicide. We would be riding towards Hereford where FitzOsbern and DeLacy have strong garrisons. So north it is. So, north or northeast or northwest?" He popped his head up again. He could not see to the northwest, but to the north and the northeast there were Norman scouts. He slid down the slope and bent low and ran up the trail until he could see to the northwest. He could see no scouts.
He ran back to the men and called Gilbert Widehand, his second, to him. "Gil, I am taking five men with me. We are going back down this slope to those first trees and then traverse this ridge heading northwest. When you see us traversing, I want you to take the column along this ridge and keep to the north. And please stay lower than the skyline so that the scouts to the northeast cannot see you."
"What about the scouts to the north. They will see us for sure."
"I am counting on it. As soon as they see you they will run from you. I am gambling that they will run down the slope to the south west, to make for the column that is tracking us. Me and the lads will cut them off. If the scouts don't report to the main column, then it will have to come all the way up here before they see our tracks and turn after us. If it works then we may just stay ahead of them until dark."
Gil pointed down the slope. "Those trees."
Raynar looked down Gilbert's very long finger. He pulled the arm to the right. "Those trees. When we reach those, you march. We won't leave those trees until we think you have been seen by the scouts. Then the race will be on. Whatever happens you keep going. Stay lower than the skyline on this side of the ridge until it ends and then cross the next valley and go up the next ridge. Try to keep to cover and to gulleys. We will catch up to you as soon as we can."
Raynar and his five reached the trees and stayed in the shadows. From here they could see no scouts at all, but they could see their own men hurrying along a game trail almost at the top of the ridge. Six sets of eyes kept watch for any movement.
"There, coming out of that dip. Is that the scouts?" asked Much.
It did not require an answer. The men leaped onto their horses and were away. Raynar was in the lead along an intercept course. They were still lower than the scouts and on better footing for running the horses. When the scouts spotted them, they changed their course further to the west. Raynar adjusted his course as well. The race was on.
The scouts were staying ahead only by adjusting their course ever further west, and then north of west. Raynar and his men were now between the scouts and their main column. The race continued. Raynar felt his horse flagging but kept pushing it onwards. If his horse was flagging then so would the scout's horses. The scout's horses were carrying more weight and had just shocked their legs on the steep slope down the ridge.
The scouts changed their heading slightly so two of Raynar’s men peeled off on a different track to ensure someone stayed between the scouts and the main column. Raynar and the three raced on now directly behind the scouts. Again the scouts changed headings, and again two men peeled off to block any chance of them turning towards the main column. Now there was just Raynar and Much following on their track, with two men riding almost parallel about three hundred paces to the south and two more riding three hundred paces further south again.
The scouts must have thought Raynar foolish to split up his forces so. They pulled their animals to a halt and then turned them and prepared to charge at Raynar and the lad. Raynar pulled up hard and told the lad to quiet his horse. The lad put two fingers in his mouth and let go an ear piercing whistle to the other four men. This did nothing to quiet the horses.
It was too late for the other men to reach them in time to help. Raynar told the lad to load his first arrow but not to aim the bow. The lad had two bows, a long one and a short one. Only the short one was of any use on horseback but it lacked the power of the long. Raynar had his Byzantine bow which was designed for horseback. "Aim for the horses. You take the left two. Try to get two shots away, but always wait for your own nag to be still before you loose."
The four scouts were at full charge now and less than a hundred paces away. Raynar's horse was still for a half a moment and he loosed and loaded, and waited for stillness, then loosed and loaded. Just holding the nag still while men were charging at you, yelling and waving swords and getting closer with every moment, took all of his nerve. One of his shots had missed. The other arrow had hit a handsome roan and the horse was rearing and bucking. The lad finally got his nag to still and loosed and loaded. His point must have struck because another horse went berserk.
Two of the scouts were now almost within slashing range but they made a critical mistake. They did not continue the charge. If they had, Raynar and the lad would have been slashed or skewered. Instead they turned to go and help the scouts that were fighting with their horses. Turning offered the entire flank of their horses as targets.
Raynar did not wait for his horse to still. He loosed and loaded as fast as he could. Two arrows went wide, but two made glancing hits on the remaining horses. The
lad nailed one of them behind the foreleg and the horse stumbled hard forward. So now one horse was down, and the other three were in pain and frightened and fighting the reins and their riders.
Raynar slid from his horse, and the lad followed his lead. Now with his feet solidly planted on the ground he drew the next arrow to a full draw and aimed for the closest man. The lad switched to his long bow and aimed at the furthest man who was just beginning to gain control of his horse. Both men fell from their horses. There was only one man still mounted but as they were reaching for more arrows, the horse succeeded in bucking him from the saddle.
The fight had given the other hoodsmen time enough to reach this trail. Two of them came to a dusty stop beside the man crawling out from under his horse. They swung down from their saddles, unclipped their forest axes from their saddles, and sent the man and his horse to the other side. They walked passed two other men. There was no need to stop for them. They were finished. The last man was the one who had been bucked. He pushed himself to his feet and tried to limp away. A forest axe cleaved his head.
The two bowmen walked back through the horses making sure each was dead. All the hoodsmen then gather around Raynar. "Where did you learn to whistle like that lad?"
"From my sister," said the lad, and when the other men snickered, "my older sister. The one you all ogle in the market." One of the other men whistled a different kind of whistle, and everyone laughed. It was a poor jest, but well timed to hide their shaking hands and their exhaustion.
The bodies were left where they fell. The wolfpack were not hiding their trail and it would be easy enough to track, so hiding these bodies would make no difference. Raynar walked to each and ensured that each had a weapon in hand. They would never know how close they came to winning.
For the first time in a month he felt saddened by the death of Normans. Perhaps it was because these scouts were skirmishers, like him. Perhaps it was because they had ridden so hard and had even charged the bows. For now he just looked to the clouds and gave a wolf's howl and yelled, "Come and get them Anske!" to the sky.
It took them almost until dark to catch up to the wolfpack. This because they were forced to make a slow start by leading the overheated horses until they found drinking water for them. Then they had to lead them up the next hill for they were still not cool enough to carry the men up the steep slope. Just below the crest of the hill they found the track of the wolfpack and then it was just a matter of catching them up.
Once together again, Raynar stopped them for a break and to check his map. Gil climbed higher on the hillside and took a good look around. He came down with news that he could not see any other scouts, but he had seen the glint of the low sun off helmets or shields about two miles behind. That two miles included crossing a valley so it may have been two and a half miles.
"So where are we?" Gil asked.
"Unfortunately I think we are dangerously close to Ludlow," Raynar replied. "Our Welsh guides specifically warned me off Ludlow. They said it didn't need a motte because the village is on the top of a steep hill surrounded by a fast river. That is the reason that Walter DeLacy chose it for his base. They told me that Walter DeLacy is the Earl of Herefords right hand man. They said he is a nasty sod, and a smart warrior, and to stay clear of him. Those may be his men following us."
He looked down the hillside to the brook below. Decision time. "We have to keep moving. Saddle up."
They followed a game trail down the slope to the brook. The brook was wide but shallow. They walked their horses single file up the brook as it meandered around the hill they had just come down. Then it changed courses and went up a steeper valley.
"This is good," said Raynar. "We needed to head further north to miss Ludlow. It is good for us that the hills are getting higher and steeper." The brook was becoming more difficult to follow as it was steeper and rushed from pool to pool. "Cut some of that scotch broom and sweep the tracks once we leave the brook. There, ahead, let's take that game trail to the right."
Gil caught up to Raynar and asked, "Do you think it will be pitch black by the time they reach here?"
Raynar looked back over his shoulder. "I hope so. We were in that brook for almost a mile. Hopefully even the dogs will loose us. If they miss our turn in the dark, then tomorrow will be a better day."
They caught the last light in the sun as they climbed out of the valley. Once at the top they found themselves on a long ridge that rose to a large hill to the north. Raynar had to admit to the men that they were not where he thought they were. "I thought by going north we would keep Ludlow to the east of us and would be able to dart back to the border. Look at that tower to the south of the sunset. That must be Ludlow, to the west of us. So where the fuck are we."
Gil and the rest of the men took a good look around to get their bearings. "Well, if Ludlow is to the west and it's garrison is trailing us in the south, we can either go north or east." North was endless hills, which didn't interest Gilbert. Like everyone else except for Raynar, he was a forest man, not a hills man. "There. Call me a dreamer if you want, but that smudge in the distance looks like a forest." In the fading light they could see a dense deep green area to the north east. "I says we make for the forest where we can hide and rest and hunt."
Raynar shrugged his shoulders. Hills or forest, either was better than staying here. Why not the forest, after all, he was in the company of foresters. They crossed over the ridge and down just below the skyline before they looked for a trail. Still no sight of scouts. They cut new scotch broom four times before they stopped sweeping their track. By then it was dark.
They did not climb the large hill, but instead traversed around its east face at the same level that the ridge connected to it. All the men save Raynar were flat landers from the plains around Sherwood. They lived in a land of high trees and took their bearing from the many north south running roads.
They were amazed that Raynar could swear that he was still tracking north. At the next rest stop, Raynar showed the men how to read the stars. He showed them how to pick out the plough and how to use the plough to pick out the north star. They found it hard to believe that the north star always pointed north because all the other stars were constantly moving.
They kept moving through the night until even the horses made it clear that they wanted a rest. "What do you think. Are we far enough north that if we turn east we will find the forest?" Raynar asked. It was anyone’s guess. They were now beyond the large hill and on the ridge on it's north side. "I suggest we go down into the valley using the next bridle path. Hopefully it will lead to a cartway heading east."
"You think a cartway is safe?" asked Much.
"It has to be safer than these ridge trails in the dark," answered a tired voice from the gloom.
"If we can find a good cartway we will reach the forest before first light. If we don't reach the forest before first light, we will be spotted from any of the ridges around here," replied Raynar. These flat landers thought at one level only. They never thought in terms of high ground or low ground.
To save time they tried to ride the horses down from the ridge. Though they found a well used bridle path down, it was treacherous in the dark, with many twists. Halfway down, one of the horses lost it's footing, or was too tired to keep it, and by the time they had pulled it back up onto the path it was obviously lame. Another horse put it's hoof down an animal burrow and half the column heard the snap of the leg. It was lucky that each of the wolfpacks had two extra pack horses, but now they had used up that luck. They all dismounted and led the horses to the valley floor.
The bridle path did connect to a cartway, actually a cross of cartways. One followed the valley north or south. The other went north east. After a half mile of easy riding along the cartway Raynar told Gilbert, "Have you noticed that this cartway is straight. It hasn't jogged around a field or around a wood. It must be a Roman street."
"The Norman's use the Roman streets. Are you saying we should get off this one and
find another."
"No chance of that until daylight, Gil, and by then we will want to be in that forest. Bugger it. Keep riding."
They rode without stop. Some of the men were slumping in their saddles, dozing as they rode. A few fell off, one even broke his arm in the fall. They kept pinching themselves to stay awake. The early morning twilight found them still a mile from the forest. Raynar told them to keep to the southern edge of the roadway to stay in the shadows as long as possible. He expected most of the scouts would be on ridges to the south of them. Eventually they found a brook running parallel to the street and they left the street and used the bed of the brook as a trail.
It was a good move as they were now hidden from any scouts by the high bush growing along the brook. The exhausted horses brightened up from having cool water to drink and to cool their aching legs. It was slower than the road, but now there was more light to see by and to be seen by, with every passing minute. They reached the first large trees as the sunrise colors were disappearing in the brightness of the new day.
The Roman street skirted the forest on the north west side. The brook led directly into the depths of the forest. The forest, any forest, was Gilbert's domain and Raynar passed the leadership over to him. The difference in leadership styles was evident immediately. Gilbert knew all the men personally, their strengths, their knowledge, and he delegated the locating and building of a camp, and setting the watch.
Raynar was relieved to no longer be in command. He had always found the responsibilities of leadership stressful and exhausting. Hereward often told him that it was because he cared too much.
He was woken out of a well deserved sleep by a gentle shake. It was Much. "They've found a good place to camp for a few days. We are moving out." The place they had found was a half mile deeper into the forest just past a fork in the brook they had been following. Raynar and Much were last in the column so they had to spend extra time covering any obvious tracks. By the time they reached the camp there was soup bubbling away in a half dozen small pots, and a big porker sizzling between the fire and some large reflection stones.
