by Smith, Skye
"Our betrothal was foretold to me only weeks ago by a Seer in Wales," he told her as kissed her forehead softly. "I thought she was just giving me advice, but now I know better. She was forewarning me of my fate so that I would expect you, and not turn you away."
* * * * *
For the next week they were constant and pleasant company for each other while they explored Ely by path and by water. They also slept together, or at least slept part of the time. It unnerved him sometimes how similar she was to Anske. Not in face, or body shape, but in skin, and touch, and smell, and warmth, and even the tiny snores that woke him in the night.
They quickly gave up staying at John's hut. The noise of the hammers at the forge next door and the men on the training field behind, made them quickly realize why they rarely saw John there. Unfortunately private, peaceful quarters seemed to be non existent in Ely, for it had become such a busy island.
Inka, the Frisian seer and ealderwoman, invited them to stay with her. At night it was quiet in her far corner of the island, with it's protected and very clean well. That changed in daylight hours when it became busy with all the healers preparing herbs and unguents from Inka's stores. The kitchen was rarely used for food, but rather for rendering. They did see more of John there, as he was a favourite of the widows who worked with Inka. They always knew when John was visiting by the girly giggles of the women.
Eventually they were offered a hut with some privacy on a small island across a small waterway from Inka's hut. The roof took a little fixing and the hut needed a good cleaning, but it was still summer and they did not need much more than simple privacy to enjoy life. The small boat they used to cross to the hut was put on a line so that it could be pulled back and forth from either bank.
A benefit was that Roas never wanting for female company while Raynar was in endless planning meetings with Hereward and Canute. Inka was a very busy woman, and would often leave her little daughter Gesa with Roas. She was a delightful child. Moreover, just a short boat ride took Roas to Inka's hut, through which passed every Frisian woman in Ely, for some reason or other.
The women of Ely were outnumbered five to one by the men. Most were widows who had lost all. Their roof, their husband, their children. Most were now pregnant. No one was ever asked who the father was. These women had been used badly by both Normans and English, and often by many men at a time. They had survived and now they were flourishing in Ely.
In many ways, Inka's hut was the true administrative center of Ely. Inka encouraged the women to join into sisterhoods to share work and to share child care and to share roofs. With the sisterhoods, life became easier for them, and more secure. Men they could have with a snap of their fingers, but you know what men are like. The sisterhoods were much, much more reliable.
Ely was a sanctuary for these haunted women. Prince Canute, who some warriors called Saint Canute as he spent so much time on his knees in the abbey, had gone against the Jarl's wishes and made it a sanctuary for these women.
When the first few women reached the island, they needed immediate protection as they were so outnumbered by horny men. The Prince created a new law against rape that was harsher even than Danish law. The penalty for raping a woman who had not yet given birth was death. It was a good law, though there were not many such women in Ely. The penalty for raping any other woman was a lashing. A Saxon would have laughed at the lashing penalty, but not the Danes. Most Danish warriors would rather loose their head than to suffer the indignity of a public lashing.
As Roas and Raynar became accustomed to Ely, so did Ely become accustomed to seeing them as a couple poling boats or walking together with arms entwined. The bowmen and the Frisians already knew Raynar. Now the Danish oarsmen and the ships captains also began to know him and include him in their evenings of story telling. It was not lost on them that he often walked with Prince Canute, and seemed to have King Sweyn's ear whenever he wanted it.
Whenever they explored by boat, Inka would join them. With Raynar's help she was mapping the waterways and their depth, and the location of the best eel pools, and where useful plants and herbs were to be found, and which other smaller islands about Ely could support villages. It seemed to Raynar that mapping the myriad of waterways around Ely, and around the few cartways that led to Ely would have been a priority with the Jarl. Not so. He once asked the Jarl about it, and his response was mocking laughter. The man relied on the memories of his men who had also explored the small waterways.
* * * * *
One place Inka was never welcome was at the abbey, which was why she was not with them on this day, on this walk. Raynar was at the abbey to browse their library for any Greek books and any maps. The brothers resisted his asking, until the Prior Aethelwold of Peterburgh abbey happened along and vouched for him.
Roas was led to the chapel, while the prior accompanied Raynar to the scriptorium. "You will be disappointed," the prior whispered. "Our Order keeps our wealth of books and manuscripts in drier houses, mostly at Repton Abbey just south of Derby." He looked at Raynar, who was choking on something. "The dampness of the Fens shortens the life of books to a mere decade."
He was right. The collection was meager, and mostly Romanized church books written in Latin. Nothing of interest to Raynar. "So prior, will you travel with your relics to Denmark?"
"The penance that my own prayers set for myself are to protect the relics where ever they are. If that is Denmark, then so be it," replied the prior.
"And if Sweyn does not allow it. What then?"
"Sweyn earns much forgiveness from Rome and from his bishops by building small churches in villages in his kingdom," replied the prior.
"There is much to forgive," chuckled Raynar.
"Yes, yes, but even if in his heart he is not Christian, he respects those who are. If I am true to my own penance, he will allow it. I must believe that."
"Where are the relics now?" asked Raynar.
"Why, in the chests there behind the books."
"Those chests," asked Raynar, "the ones encrusted in gold and jewels?"
"The same. They are why Sweyn's personal guards sit against the wall," replied the prior, nodding towards the guards.
"Are they locked?"
"Of course," replied the prior and he showed the heavy keys around his neck. "The other reason I came with them. I hold the keys. I would not have them smash the chest to get to the priceless relics."
Raynar roared with laughter, and the monks all shushed him, but the bored Danes stood and walked over to hear the jest. They knew Raynar, and knew him to be one of their lord's inner circle. They had spent enough hours listening to his wondrous stories to know him as a warlord and one with little respect for those in fancy clothing. As ships crew, this made him one with them.
Now he told them the jest. How the good prior was here to protect the old bones that were encased in the jeweled cases, and that the prior with his keys was fearful that without the keys the Danes may smash the cases to get to the old bones.
Laughter rolled through the hallowed hallways. These men did not even pretend to be Christian like their king. They were men of Thor and Woden, and had no use for old bones of Christian saints.
Raynar pointed to the keys around the priors neck. "See, he has the keys with him." he walked to a monk who was reading a large book and took the books chest from under the desk. "Whats say we have him open these gilded chests and move the bones to the wooden one," he guffawed and set them laughing again, "then he can keep them safe with him, while you guard the jeweled cases."
The two guards looked at each other and looked at Raynar and shrugged. It was a good plan. "Go ahead," they told the prior, "save your bones." They even helped him to move the stack of chests and cases so that the good prior could find them all.
On their way back to the chapel, each carrying a large plain wood chest holding Peterburgh's holy relics, Raynar made a suggestion. "I think now that you have them, that you should return to Peterburgh."
&nbs
p; "No, not Peterburgh. If Sweyn comes looking for them, he will go their first. Besides, I don't trust the abbot," replied the prior, "so I will hide them at Ramsey Abbey. Abbot Aelfwine is Daneglish and is known to these wild men as someone who is saintly."
They collected Roas at the chapel. She looked very out of place in the somber darkness surrounded by monks dressed in dark colors. She was fair and rosy, like her name. She was waiting with nothing to do but to watch for them and she skipped towards them when they approached. "The men of this abbey hate women I think. Or at least they hate young women. Oh, the angry looks I got."
"Probably because you had your head covered. Only men are supposed to cover their heads in chapel. Next time take off your bonnet." The prior suddenly realized that this woman had never been in a Romanized church ever before. "I could arrange for lessons in the Bible for you."
"I am a child of Freyja," she pointed to the statues and icons of saints, "which of these gods is Freyja?" She could not understand why the prior grabbed her by the arm and rushed her from the abbey while kissing his cross.
"Come prior. Let us not delay. I will find passage for you to Ramsey. It is on the River Nene so any boat making from here to Peterburgh will take you."
It took less than an hour of asking to find a loaded barge willing to take the prior. The good brother hugged Raynar and told him that he would pray for the goodness in him to turn away his dark side.
"I am a nothing, brother. If you wish to make a difference, then say that same prayer for William the Bastard."
* * * * *
* * * * *
The Hoodsman - Ely Wakes by Skye Smith
Chapter 21 - Princess Mary does the town, in London in October 1101
With Eustace dressed as a thriving merchant, and Mary as a serving wench, they made their way to the alehouse that Risto had suggested. Two armed and mailed guards pretending to be off duty, led them at a discrete distance. It was the largest alehouse in Holborn, because it was near the market and was attached to the Holborn Inn.
Mary was so excited to be going that she was pulling on his arm as she danced and skipped up the street. In England, ale houses were more common than stables, but to Mary they were the epitome of everything that was forbidden to her, a royal girl who had spent much of her life locked in a convent. They paused outside of it while the guardsmen got settled in the alehouse, and watched the scene.
This was a respectable working man's alehouse, not like some. It served both the folk that ran the market and the folk that accustomed it. Most of the benches and tables were under a large thatch roof and behind a half height wall so that the patrons could sit out of the rain yet keep an eye on the street, or on their market stall.
The market had packed up for the day save for the food stalls, so the alehouse was full and loud with gossip and laughter. The guards had reached there first to ensure it was peaceful. They found a bench that put their backs to the Inn's wall so they could sit facing out across the crowd.
Mary stopped at the entrance and looked slowly around the room. She was pleased to see so many women, perhaps a quarter of the folk. There was a saying in London, that when the women left an ale house for the night, it was time that all good men left as well.
She was also pleased that she was dressed so similarly to them that she could sit beside them without causing a stir. She squeezed Eustace's arm with both hands and looked up into his face. "Thank you. Thank you so much for bringing me."
Eustace said nothing. It looked like any other alehouse to him, though certainly large and popular. He took a slow look around the room to size up the crowd. The folk were of all ages, but many of the men in the far corner were young. They did not have a warriors look, and they seemed to have coin, so he assumed they were the sons of local merchants.
There was a table of big men, perhaps they were the market porters, eating meat with rude manners and grabbing at the serving girls. There were a lot of serving girls. Too many even for this size a house, so he assumed that most of them were girls for hire. They were paying the house fee by serving while they waited for a man to make them a better offer.
Mary's excitement at just being allowed to visit an alehouse had now calmed. Her vision came down to earth and she began to notice the worn and tired look of the folk and their clothes. Eustace had chosen a bench close to the entrance, at a table where three women were already sitting, albeit sitting on men's knees. She decided it would be better to copy the customs of the folk than to sit like statue, so after Eustace sat, she climbed onto his knee.
A big breasted woman slammed two jugs of ale in front of them, splashing some of it, and held her hand out for payment. Eustace had the small coins ready, thanks to a warning and some coins from Risto. She lingered longer and bent low to speak to Mary. Mary could see right down her cleavage but forced herself not to look away in embarrassment.
"Listen honey," the ale wench told her, "you're new here so let me tell you the rules. The house gets a quarter of your earnings. There's no fucking allowed in the alehouse. You must take a room at the Inn for that. If you pick any pockets, or don't put out after the coin is paid, then we turn you over to the watch."
Mary was utterly speechless. Her cheeks were turning pink, then red.
Eustace, with Mary on his knee with her legs dangling between his, was now thoroughly enjoying the charade. "I am a foreign merchant," he said. "What is normally paid to a girl like this, and how much are the rooms?"
"For the hour or the night?" asked the alewench.
"Both."
"You are a foreigner then. The cheapest way is to get a room for the night and arrange with the Innkeeper to supply the woman." She bent towards Mary and with an ale soaked finger she pushed Mary's lip up. After Mary had pushed her finger away, she pulled Mary's smock open and forward and looked down at her breasts.
"She is fresh to the trade despite her age. What's the matter honey, they couldn't feed you at home any more? Well, a trollop would cost you a shilling for the night, half of that for a quickie. For this one it would be at least triple that rate. The room is another shilling for the night, half for an hour. So for four shillings you can have her all night. She is lovely. If I had the four shillings to spare, I'd do her myself."
Mary wriggled herself away from the rude woman, which meant that she rubbed against Eustace in the most delightful way.
The woman grabbed her chin and forced her face up. "Look honey, it's none of my business, but you could do much better at one of the wine houses. There is one just up the street. You could get four or five shillings a toss there. Wine drinkers have lots of the ready."
"Yeah, bugger off," said the woman sitting across the table, "you're making us look bad. My man has done nothing but ogle you since you sat down." She poked the man she was sitting on.
"Oh leave her be," said the woman next to her, "she's got herself a right gent there, so she's not goin ta show any interest in our lot, is she. I don't care if she gives them all a knob-on so long as I get paid."
A musician over by the two guards plucked at a lyre and asked for requests. He ignored the cat calls and began to play. He started a flat reel and soon a man with a corn joined in. Two of the benches in the center were pushed away so that some of the women could dance and show their wares. The dancing was an excuse to peek a boo their breasts and their knees, and they became the center of attention of all the men. There was much beating of hands on tables and howling the time of the music, and Mary's flush deepened as she felt the cock rise beneath her.
Between the music, the dancing, and the strong ale, the place was becoming very loud. The man across from her was openly groping the woman on his knee. The woman who had told her to bugger off jumped up, grabbed Mary's wrist and tugged her towards the dancing. "Come on love. Lets see your legs." She pushed her into the circle of dancing women and Mary stood like a fool for a second, looking out at all of the men looking at her.
One of the dancers swung by her and hooked an arm in hers and
swung her back towards the other dancers. Mary realized that she would look a fool by just standing there, so she began to mimic the dancing of the others, but more modestly.
That was not good enough for the men in the front. They began pulling at her skirts to have her kick them up and bare her legs. She had no choice but to comply for she was afraid they would otherwise rip the skirts from her.
The two guards stood and were waving their hands at Eustace to get his attention. They were used to alehouses such as this and they were becoming worried that this scene was getting out of hand. Eustace ignored them. He was watching Mary dance and enjoying it every bit as much as the next man.
The women were truly enjoying themselves and Mary with them. There was something about dancing in front of an appreciative audience that made you forget your troubles and smile. There was nothing like a reel to get the skirts swinging and exaggerate the differences between men’s clothes and women’s. Mary and two other very young women were dancing in complement to each other by circling, bowing, swinging, and high stepping.
The tune ended and another began. This time a woman with a sensuous voice sang a song about losing her man at sea. Some women sat to catch their breath but Mary's trio continued. The corn player whistled in time with their high stepping and the three women circled with him in the center. Men were pushing closer around the dance floor to watch the fun, and to watch the three beauties bounce their breasts and show their knees.
On the next tune, the trio took their bonnets off and let their long hair flow down across their shoulders so they could flick it with their heads while they danced to the cheers of the audience. As that tune ended, Mary left the trio and made her way back to Eustace. She was gleaming and beaming at the fun. She sat on his knee again and swigged the ale thirstily.
