Hoodsman: Ely Wakes

by Smith, Skye

  Some of the Wyre men in the woods now changed places with some of the bowmen in the bailey. The Wyre men sorted the captured armour and weapons and even had to send for more men from the wood. Thurcytel, who had been a huscarl for most of his adult life, beamed as he paraded about in his new armour and took some practice swings at a fencing post with his new sword. "It's a bit long," he complained to Raynar who answered that it was a cavalry sword, and they were all long. It was so the cavalry had the reach to slaughter fleeing peasants.

  They waited for the Quatford patrol to arrive, who merrily trotted through the open gate and into the trap. With the gates closed behind them, and twenty arrows pointing at them, they also saw the sense in surrender. They were told to strip and then they were bound and put with the other prisoners in the longhouse barracks.

  To make sure both patrols did not arrive at the same time, there were four mounted men three miles towards Worcester ready to swim the river and keep the patrol busy or at least distracted. That was no longer necessary. Much ran along the river bank and with a screeching whistle, warned them to stay hidden until after the Worcester patrol had passed them.

  The Worcester patrol also merrily trotted through the open gate and into the trap. All totaled there were eight Franks dead, and forty five captured. Their armour and weapons and horses were almost enough to outfit all of the Wyre men. With both patrols trussed up, they now had until sunset to get as far away from this bailey as they could. Since the Wyre men had women and children, they left first.

  Raynar stopped Thurcytel from firing the roof of the bailey's longhouse. "We will leave them without boots, clothes, or horses. It is enough. They will not follow, and they will not be quick to tell the story."

  Gilbert had some men chop the pivots from the bailey's gates, and when the gates slumped against the walls they put dry bush between the gates and the wall and lit it. Within minutes the gates and the walls they leaned against were an inferno. There were cries of alarm from the longhouse, but Raynar told the men to mount up and leave the house standing. "It won't take them but moments to break through the roof and run for the river."

  The men from Sherwood set out and sure enough, while they could still see the river, it was filling with naked men. The wolfpack first tracked north east until they found a ford across the river Stour, and then south east across a Roman street and along a bridle path that paralleled another. They rode endlessly to put miles between them and Worcester, only to find out that they had to wait in a wood until dark before crossing Ryknild street. Once across that busy highway, they continued slowly along a bridle path in the pitch black for about a mile before making a fireless camp for the night.

  Gilbert threw his sheepskin down beside Raynar's so they could talk as they fell asleep. "Remind me never to visit Shropshire or Herefordshire again. They have too many men in armour," he said.

  "FitzOsbern rules like a king," agreed Raynar. "I wonder how true his friendship is to King William? I wonder if his own eyes are on the crown?"

  * * * * *

  * * * * *

  The Hoodsman - Ely Wakes by Skye Smith

  Chapter 16 - More trouble at Peterburgh Abbey in July 1070

  Three long days later they rode into Bedford, and Raynar was happy to see that the new reeve had pulled down the bailey wall. The reeve was proud of how quickly it had fallen and told the story as soon as he was able. The poles of the wall had been set upright in a continuous trench, so once you loosened the end poles, you could drop the others sideways, one at a time.

  The village was in a building boom as the folk raced each other to use up the free building materials scavenged from the bailey. As for the buildings within what had been the bailey, they were being used to house the labourers and the visitors to the market, which was one again flourishing. The visitors included a small patrol of axemen who willingly shared their roof with the wolfpack.

  A day later they rode into Huntingdon just one horse light of a full load, and Rodor and Alan peppered them with questions. John just gave Raynar a bear hug and asked for no explanation. Raynar was better left to do his explaining after the evening meal when it was the time to exchange stories.

  That evening there was much news to exchange. Raynar kept Eadric's fate from them, but he did mention that Cheshire may become friendlier to the brotherhood. Thurcytel had promised to send a message to Tideswell if the Earl did hire them.

  Hereward had just come from Ely to deliver more coin to Rapenald, and he was filled with news. William the Bastard was trying to pacify the North using diplomacy rather than armies. He had sent a series of emissaries to Ely and while discussions continued, the Cambridge siege had been partially lifted.

  "Diplomacy, be damned. That is just a way of getting others to fight your battles for you," said Hereward. "William has trouble on his borders in Normandy and he does not have enough men in arms to solve his troubles both there and here at the same time."

  "He should'a thought of that before he slaughtered half the kingdom, then, shouldn'a he," replied John. "Should I lament that he cannot move his armies across the lands he left barren." The other men agreed with him, strongly.

  "An interesting point is that William believes the advances towards London are controlled by Jarl Osbard from Ely. He does not seem to have good intelligence about Huntingdon." Hereward let that sink in. These men had just won large from the dice game of the fates. There were plenty of axemen, plenty of oarsmen and now plenty of Welsh bows. He decided he may as well tell his thoughts straight out.

  "Do you remember Waltheof from York. He is a second cousin of mine. His father used to be the Earl of this town. Well William has forgiven Waltheof for fighting him at York, and has given him his niece, the Countess Judith, in marriage, and has restored to him his family estates and title from around here. I think it is mostly diplomacy, to soften his continuing refusal to wed his own daughter to Earl Edwin."

  Hereward waited for this to sink in. Rapenald came to the sense of it first and opened his mouth to speak but Hereward spoke instead, "Yes, Waltheof is once more the Earl of Huntingdon and therefore the castellan of this bailey answers to him." The men all began to talk at once. "He is in Bedford as we speak, in truth he may have been there when Raynar rode through."

  "Well 'e is in for a surprise int 'e," laughed John. "He's expecting Huntingdon to be a sleepy backwater village with a small bailey to protect the bridge, not the busiest market town in the Fens. "

  "It's not Waltheof's surprise I worry about, but Judith's. What if she takes her Norman nobility seriously. She could report all she sees here to William," replied Hereward. "John, what do you think. Should we move everything to do with the bows to Ely, including all the trainees. Resume the training there."

  They were all sitting on the benches in the shadow of the tower with a good view of the bailey. John was not one to wait to do a task. He lifted himself to his full height, and stomped down towards his men to give the orders to pack up and move out.

  "Rapenald, we will leave you a few bowmen for duty above the gates, but you will have to gather the untrained axemen to replace the rest of the bowmen in the garrison. When Waltheof arrives I want him to see the sleepy village that he will be expecting," he waved his hands towards the bustling docks and bailey. "Not this. The ships will leave to take the bowmen to Ely. Tell the merchants that the market will be very slow for at least a week and that Bedford will provide them better earnings."

  Rapenald made to rise but Hereward stopped him. "There is more. When Waltheof sent me the warning of his visit, he also warned me that there were whispers at court that another Danegeld is being arranged."

  "Well, that is not entirely unexpected," said Raynar. "Have you bargained for the ships we need to protect Ely yet?"

  "Yes, eight small ships well suited to the rivers, and a dozen fast skiffs. The price was extreme."

  "All our coin?" asked Rodor.

  "No, none of our coin. All of Peterburgh Abbey's treasure. It grieved me to a
gree, but it would be foolish to believe that William would not take it for paying the Danegeld in any case."

  "When?" asked Rodor.

  "Soon. Before the Danegeld is agreed. Else the Jarl may think that we tricked him."

  "Are your men still on the walls in Peterburgh?"

  "Ah, therein lies the problem. I have heard whispers that the abbot has bought them to his service, but until I walk up to the gate, I will not know the full truth of it."

  "Damnation," cursed Raynar, "I should have shipped that buggering abbot to Ely to serve his penance for pestering children."

  * * * * *

  Hereward walked alone to towards Peterburgh gate. Rodor and Raynar stayed with Hereward's men and watched from afar. Hereward had brought his own Lincolnshire men to the Abbey for this task as they were mates and cousins of the men he had left to garrison these walls. Godwine Gille, the man he had left in charge of the walls was watching him from up on the wall beside the gate.

  Hereward cupped his hands and yelled, "Oy, Godwine, open the gates."

  "The abbot has ordered the gates to remain closed until he returns," replied Godwine.

  "And where is the abbot, and why isn't he in his penance cell?"

  "That weren't my doing. The prior let him out. He said that his penance had been set at a month and the month was finished. Then all hell broke loose around here. He was in such a temper ranging about this place, and looking for any of his men," replied Godwine. "He is gone to Stamford. I think to meet with his guardsmen."

  "Have you taken his salt, or his coin?" asked Hereward.

  There was a noticeable pause. "Some of his coin, but not his salt," replied Godwine.

  They were interrupted by a cry from the far end of the wall. A lad had his hands cupped and was yelling, "A ship. There is a ship coming up the river." He was concentrating so hard on yelling that he walked too close to the inside edge of the wall's walkway and disappeared from sight with a yelp and a puff of dust and the sounds of frightened pigs and chickens.

  "What is the ship, Hereward?"

  "It will be Jarl Osbard from Ely. He's come to collect payment for the ships we've bought."

  "This sounds like the abbots business," said Godwine. "Can it wait until he returns?"

  "It's better he is gone. Open the gates."

  "No. Leave them closed," said the prior who had joined Godwine on the wall. "Hereward, I'll not open these gates to you or to anyone, with a Dane ship so close." He turned to the courtyard behind him and yelled, "To arms, to arms! To the wall!"

  Within moments one patrol of Hereward's men were facing down to a cartway filling with another patrol of Hereward's men. The men were all pleased to see each other and yelled greetings to their own, but then realized what the standoff might mean and began to grumble.

  The lad was back on the wall still yelling, but it was indistinct above the many other voices. Eventually it was the prior who held up his hands and yelled for silence, and then they could hear the lad clearly. "Fire"

  Godwine yelled down, "A lad has fallen through a roof and it collapsed into a kitchen. The bloody thatch has caught and the fire is spreading quickly."

  The prior was yelling for his monks to start a bucket brigade.

  Hereward was yelling for the gates to be opened so that all the men could fight the fire. The prior was yelling no, but Godwine yelled down to the gate keepers and they swung open.

  The coop roof that had broken the lad's fall, and then collapsed was between the main barn and the slow fires where they rendered the kitchen carcasses. Some of the small roof had been pushed by the force too close the one of the fires, and had caught immediately. That was not the problem. The problem was that the small roof had been so dry that the smoke carried bits of burning reeds in its' ash. The burning reeds had fallen on the grand barn roof, the largest thatch roof in the burgh, and in the summer dryness, it was quickly becoming a monstrous torch.

  The monks took control of all the men. They accepted that the barn could not be saved, so they began emptying it of all animals and leather craft and barrels. Eventually their greed to save things almost cost them the burgh. Hereward pushed the prior out of the way and began yelling to his men to stop clearing the barn and instead grab water buckets and save the roofs closest to the barn.

  They formed up in bucket brigades, and even the monks saw the sense in this, and they worked furiously to save the next big roof, one of the long houses. Raynar was organizing another bucket brigade on the side of the barn closest to the gate when he saw a familiar figure run through the gate followed by over forty Danish oarsmen from the ship. "Canute!" he yelled to the Danish prince, "well timed. Form your men into a bucket line and help us save this roof."

  The prince was more experienced in lighting roofs than in damping them, but he was game to help. It was exhausting and frustrating work. They lost two more large roofs and the burning ash was carrying the inferno between buildings. For hours and hours they threw water, and when the flames claimed a roof, they would pull it down and move the bucket line to save the next.

  The villagers at the far end of the burgh wall, and those outside the wall, had their own buckets and bucket lines, and had created a line of damp roofs to keep the flames from reaching their huts. They had the easier problem, since the gentle summer breeze was carrying the ash away from them and towards the abbey. If a wind rose, everything would burn, and in the back of everyone’s mind was that for the past week the heat of the summer afternoons had ended with local thunder storms and blasts of wind.

  Even after the fires in the roofs were calmed, the work continued. Any charred thatch had to be pulled down to the ground and doused. Any smouldering beams had to be isolated and doused. By sunset, everyone was exhausted and covered head to foot in wet black ash but the fire was out. Most of the village had survived. Most of the out buildings did not survive, but the Abbey, it's tower, and one of their storage barns did. The rain from the afternoon thunder storm doused the last of the hot spots.

  Folk spent the night wherever they had last stopped to rest. It was too much effort to stand up and move to a more comfortable place, or to walk to the river to get clean, or even to find food. The prior organized the Abbey's kitchen to make thick rich soup and the monks walked from black sodden mass of men to black sodden mass of men doling it out. In the morning they walked between them again carrying cauldrons of cooked oats sweetened with honey.

  In the morning light the full extent of the devastation was clear. The buildings that had lost their roofs had also lost key timbers and many of the beams had collapsed. The constant wash of buckets of water had turned parts of the walls back to clay and the walls had lost their strength. Most of the buildings could not be repaired, and needed rebuilding.

  Everyone suffered from scratches and burns, but worse was the non stop coughing and the blisters around eyes and noses from breathing hot ash. Children were reported lost, but then were found again. Two old monks had pushed their old hearts too far and had collapsed and died. One of Canute's men had died a fiery death when a roof collapsed on him while trying to save the last two horses in the stable.

  The prior had a full abbey for his services. He thought of using the time to criticize the keeping of armed men at an abbey, but relented. The clumsy lad who had fallen from the wall had done nothing more than collapse a worthless old roof. The fire then, was accidental and could have happened at any time whether there were armed men on the walls or not. If it had not been for the presence of the armed men to help fight the fire, the entire abbey may have been lost.

  Hereward looked at the alter and along the alcoves. The treasures had all disappeared. He waited impatiently until the prior ran out of wind, and the knees of those praying gave out. When he could approach the prior in private, he waved his hands at the alter and asked, "Did the abbot take them all to Stamford to send to the king?"

  "No, he had us fortify the tower and has had them all moved to it. He is a soldier not a monk. He wanted the treas
ure somewhere he could defend, rather than somewhere God could defend."

  "It is all in the tower? There is nothing in the vaults?"

  "Nothing gilded, nothing that is treasure, is in the vaults, but there are many relics and other holy things."

  Canute spent the rest of that day moving treasures from the tower to his ship. Half of the time was spent shifting a massive altar table inlaid and heavy with gold. When he left for Ely, a dozen monks of Danish blood, including the prior, went with him to stay with the relics that had been taken for their guilt cases. The abbey's treasurer stood on the wall watching the ship turn in the slow current of the river and he wept. Hereward was on the ship sitting beside the prior but neither waved nor nodded.

  Raynar stood next to the treasurer on the wall, but had no patience for his tears. "Brother, you have your wish. With the treasure gone so will the armed men be gone." The treasurer gave him a look of contempt. "Perhaps now that your gilded alter is gone, you can begin worshipping your God again, rather than a costly table." This time the treasurer moved toward him in anger, but Raynar's size held him back. "Brother, you have your abbey, you have your lands, you have your mills, and you have the monks and good tenants. Is this not closer to the vision of your Order than being moneylenders to the lords."

  The treasurer dropped his head and mumbled. "You see very clearly for a pagan assassin. Do you think I don't know that you are the very Wolfshead who is plaguing the Normans along the highways. I wonder if you will be as glib to mock your own losses as you mock ours, for losses will come to you as surely as the Normans will come to crush your rebellion."

  Raynar breathed deeply and swallowed his words and kept his clenched fists next to his sides. How could this sterile banker understand the loss of someone like Anske. "You must hear my words again brother, for I was not mocking your loss. I was serious. You aim to model yourselves after your saints, yet you hoarded the wealth that your sacred saints would have used for good works."