by Smith, Skye
He spoke over the music and cheers close to her ear, "Our guards think that it is not safe for you to dance so. They keep pointing to the door. I think they would rather we leave."
She kissed him on the forehead and then on the lips and said. "Not a chance. Not until I dance some more. Did you see these men. They loved my dancing." With that she spun away from his grasp and moved back through the crush of men to the dancing circle. The other two young girls had not yet gone back to their tables, so Mary joined them again. They far outshone any other women who were showing legs and cleavage. Behind them danced the very woman who had pulled her to the dance floor to begin with, but no one was watching her dance, not with the three youngsters high stepping.
The woman gave Mary an angry look. As she whirled passed she said hoarsely, "Why don't you just piss off." Mary ignored her and danced around the corn player again. The other woman was not smiling any more and she twirled close to Mary and as she passed she grabbed Mary's top and ripped it sideways. Mary's left breast was now exposed. The force of the grabbing made Mary lose her balance and she fell towards the first row of men. They reached out to catch her fall, so she wasn't hurt, but when she made to pull away they did not leave go. Instead they pulled her closer to them and their hands went everywhere on her body.
Eustace leaped from his seat and over the table to save her, but he accidentally spilled an ale belonging to the man on the other side of the table. That man grabbed at his ankle and he fell heavily onto the floor. By the time he stood up, he could no longer see Mary. He pushed his way through the thickening crowd of men that had stood as one and moved forward to watch the fun with the young beauty, but he was making no headway through the beefy bodies. He looked in a panic over towards his guards but they were having the same problem trying to reach her.
Mary was dragged down onto her belly onto a bench and held there by many strong arms. She felt her skirts being hiked up to her waist and was kicking and yelling for the men to stop. The men holding her down were enjoying a good grope. They were not yet ready to let her go.
Held down thus, she could only see what was in front of her, and what filled her vision was a filthy oozing cock that was being pushed towards her face. She could only imagine what must be happening at her other end. She screamed louder and longer. Then there was a loud crash and a cascade of ale spilled over the cock in front of her face. The man who had been wagging it at her, slumped to the floor holding his head and some pottery shards.
Now filling her sight was the face of the big serving woman. It was inches from Mary's and was scarlet angry. "I told you ... no fucking at the tables. Now either pay for a room or piss off."
* * * * *
Eustace had heard Mary's screams and it had sent him frantically looking for a way through to her. He had given up trying to push through the crowd, but there was only a table between him and Mary. He pulled himself up onto it. From there he could see that it wasn't just Mary who was in trouble. The two young women who had been dancing with Mary had been hauled down in the excitement and were fighting off hands and lips.
He half walked, half wobbled down the shaky table just in time to see a man push his naked and swollen cock towards Mary's face. That only lasted seconds before the cock and the man drooped to the floor at the feet of the serving woman who had slammed an ale pot down on the man's head.
Two men were groping Mary and holding her down, but a third had his cock out and was trying to get it lined up to fuck her. He jumped down between the man and Mary and pushed him with all his strength. The man overbalanced and tried running backwards to regain his balance but ended up falling into the group of men that were busily stripping one of the other dancers. They reacted angrily to the interruption and a shoving match started up within the group.
He tripped the legs out from under one of the men holding Mary down, and she was able to twist around on the bench and kick at the other man. Eustace looked down at Mary and she looked up at him, but instead of a plea in her face there was a mischievous smile and a look of fierce energy. She grabbed the hair of the two men who had been groping her and smashed their heads together. One went down and one stood up only to have Eustace push him into the ongoing shoving match.
Eustace reached down with an arm under her bottom and lifted her up onto the table. Her hair was loose, her lip was bleeding, her breasts were bobbing free and her skirts were still hiked up above her knees. He took the time to stare at her wild beauty, but then she pulled her wrists free and pushed her skirts down and held her top up to cover her chest.
The two guards had finally been able to push their way through the crowd and were using their bulk to shield the couple from the men that were still pushing and shoving at each other. "Help them, help them" she shouted at the guards and pointed to the two dancers who were frantically trying to keep their clothes from being ripped away from them.
The two paused for a moment to put on their mail gloves and then set upon the men around the dancers with fists and feet wailing. The men backed away from the flailing metalled gloves, so Mary jumped to the floor and pulled each of the women out and away from the melee.
Eustace panicked when he saw Mary running into the melee, and he stepped forward to drag her back. His way was blocked by the big serving woman. "You. You caused all this bringing that young honey in 'ere. You've no right. You've money enough to set her up if you want her, instead of slumming and causing me trouble and broken heads and broken benches."
He tried to edge past her and get to Mary, but she was light on her feet for a woman her size and she yanked his hair back hard so that his chin was up and he was loosing his balance. "No you don't. You're staying right here till the watch arrives. Then we'll see who pays for this mess. And it will be you, cause the rest of this lot don't have two coins to rub together."
Mary had the dancing women on their feet and she led them through the ring of spectators and back to her table so that they could straighten their hair and their clothes. She looked over and saw Eustace being bent backwards by the big woman. She pushed her way back through the spectators and then bent low so she could hit her shoulder into the back of the woman’s knees.
The woman crumpled to the floor over Mary's back, dragging Eustace with her. He ended up with his face nestled between the serving woman’s huge breasts. Mary wriggled to get out from under them both. She pulled his head up from the cleavage and told him, "Come on, Come on, Stand up, we must be gone. The dancers told me to run before the Watch caught me."
Eustace watched the big woman roll onto all fours and look towards him like a bear looking towards a bait dog. He reached for the rest of his small ale coins and threw them in front of her. She paused in her complaining long enough to pick them all up, which gave Eustace and Mary the chance to put a table between them and her.
In ten quick steps they were out the entrance and into the street. Mary was pulling at his clothes. "Where is it, where is your purse." She found it and stuck her hand in and pulled out some heavy coins. She reached over the low wall to the two young dancers and gave them the silver coins. "For new frocks," she said.
Meanwhile the two guards were backing towards the entrance with their mail gloves held up and ready to punch out. They made the entrance safely, and then were through and running down the street to catch the couple. Eustace turned the first corner to be out of sight of the Inn, and then pulled Mary into a darkened archway. He hissed at his men as they ran by, and they double backed and joined them.
"That was," she panted, "the most exciting time I have ever had in my whole life."
"But you were inches, literally inches, from being raped," Eustace said in bewilderment.
"But I wasn't, was I, and neither were the other women. Oh how my heart is pumping. I kicked a man in the balls and watched him drop to the ground and puke. I have heard stories about things like that all my life, but I just did it for myself. I broke jugs and threw pots. Well look. Look at the smiles on their faces." She pointed to the
guards. "They enjoyed the punch up as much as I did. Oh and there was more, but I will tell you that in private."
"Lady," said the older guard, "we are smiling because we are overjoyed that nothing was hurt but your modesty. We were lucky that the Count gave his sword to Risto, for if he had drawn a blade there would have been murder done tonight. Once a blade is drawn in a punch-up, the fighting becomes desperate."
"Come on Eustace," she pulled at his arm, "let's find another ale house. I want more adventures."
"But Mary. Your clothes are ripped. You are undone. You are not decent. Besides, that was one of the better houses. The next one may be rough."
She inspected her top with a view to fixing it to hold itself up, but it was not possible. "Hmm, I do need some repairs. We can go home and get this fixed and then go out again."
"We will decide the rest of the night," he said sensibly, "once we have you repaired."
"Oooh," she said in a giddy voice, "I can't wait to tell Raynar. Now I have a story as good as one of his."
"Umm, please don't," begged Eustace. "I sort of fear the man. He is much, much more than he seems. For instance, he is quite fluent in Flemish. Why is that? What else should I know about him?"
"Aye," said one of the guards, "he told me that he once killed some knights in a great battle in Flanders. He may be old, but he is still a dangerous man. Since he is your guardian my lady, it would probably be better not to tell him all of what happened at the alehouse. Say nothing beyond the dancing."
Eustace smiled at his guard and gave him a nod of thanks for warning the girl.
* * * * *
* * * * *
The Hoodsman - Ely Wakes by Skye Smith
Chapter 22 - With the Frisians near Cassel, Flanders in January 1071
Young Raynar's back ached. The homespun hassock was too short for him, so he was stooping to look smaller. The other three men, one a Flemish guide and two oarsmen, were hunched the same. Their ship was now miles behind them on the River Yser. He scratched at his beard. "Bloody monk had lice," he said. It always amazed him how other men put up with vermin and filth and smells on their bodies and in their clothes.
They had been scouting for horses to steal, when they had happened upon four monks who were hiding from their daily toil and relishing a small cask of wine. The monks were suspicious but not fearful, and they graciously shared some of their wine, but were fit to be tied about sharing their clothes.
They would not have lost their clothing if during the discussions of their monastery they had not mentioned their wondrous library. "Does the collection include maps?" It was a simple question and they took the opportunity to brag about the wondrous collection of maps.
Ten minutes later they were dressed as bowmen, while Raynar and three others were walking towards the monastery along the muddy cartway dressed as monks. The rest of the patrol followed them with the monks but were well behind and keeping to the shadows.
"I suppose it is logical that this land should look so much like the Fens, since it is a narrow shallow sea that separates them," said Raynar to his Flemish guide. The two Frisian oarsmen laughed. They were frequent visitors to Flanders. Their Frisian Cog was a trader not raider. They did admit that they had never been this far from their ship, or from the coast. "Look, even the same marsh plants and birds."
They walked right up to the gate of the monastery without slowing or speaking to the other monks they passed. The gate keeper did not challenge them, that is, until he had a knife to his throat and by then the four of them controlled the gates. The rest of the monks did not seem to notice the change at the gate, but then it had been done silently and swiftly and without scream or scuffle.
They did notice when the rest of the patrol broke into a run for the gate however, and most monks won the foot race to the gate, only to find that they were not allowed to close it. Once the patrol was all inside, only then was the gate allowed to close. Raynar used Knut's in-common English to ask the monks which tongue they spoke, then at their answer, he switched to French.
"We mean no harm to you or to your Order," he said as he removed the monks robes and pulled on his own clothes. "We seek only the use of your library to copy some maps."
The lay brothers looked at him with surprise. What would a Frisian warrior know of libraries and maps? Most of the lay brothers could barely read themselves. Eventually they salved their fears by leading this man to the scriptorium and handing the problem to the officers of the monastery.
The prior agreed to show him the maps they had, and looked amazed at how quickly this young warrior could decipher them. Meanwhile Raynar was creating a smaller pile of the ones he wanted to copy. The prior kindly called for some copyist to help Raynar, but he refused their help. He wished to merge and compact the maps and he doubted the monks could satisfy that need.
Raynar worked through the night until he was satisfied. Meanwhile the patrol relaxed in the stable and gossiped with the stable hands, and to the other travelers who were also sheltered there for the night. When Raynar joined them in the wee hours of the morning, the guide whispered some news to him.
"The paddock in the forecourt holds twenty riding horses. Those men," he nodded to a group across the stable, "are taking them to the Fortress of Cassel. They told us that everyone here abouts has been offered top coin to deliver horses to Cassel."
"I know of the place," Raynar replied. "It is Mount Cassel, an old Roman fortress." The guide blinked and stared at him. He did not explain to the guide that he had just spent hours merging various maps of Flanders together into one. The vision of the final map was still bright in his mind. "There is a Roman street that leads from near here to Cassel. Tell the men that we will rise with the monks at first light."
He had taken special note of Cassel while he had created his map. It was unique on the map. Most of Flanders’s Roman streets ran like a star outwards from Cassel. It must have been very important to the Romans, which means it will be very important to the Franks, whether they know the why's or not. If someone was gathering horses there, then someone was supplying an army there.
He waited until the guide returned. "Tell me about Cassel," he whispered.
The guide had passed through Cassel many times due to the streets. It was atop one of the few high hills here in Flanders. It was a unique hill in that it stood alone surrounded by the low, flat, marshy coastal plain. "Your shipmates will tell you that on a clear day they can see it from halfway to England. On a clear day you can see the white cliffs of England from atop the burgh walls of Cassel.
The ancients left many stones and bricks, many foundations, and many walls. In the time of the Viking raiders before Knut, the walls were rebuilt, but they have not been kept up. The farmers do not live on the hill or in the burgh unless there is danger or floods. They have another village on the western foot of the hill called Bavinchove where it is easier to raise beasts and build huts. If those men are taking horses to Cassel, they mean Bavinchove."
* * * * *
Raynar, the guide and the same two oarsmen were now in the clothes of the horse traders. Again Raynar moaned at the filth of the clothes and the vermin that called them home. They rode four and led sixteen saddle horses along the Roman street towards Cassel. The true traders were bound but comfortable back at the monastery with the rest of the patrol.
One of the patrol was being the gatekeeper and he was keeping the gate closed and shooing away anyone who came, with the story that there had been a death and the brothers were in mourning. The monks had been asked to spend the day inside in quiet prayer.
The streets that mounted the hill to Cassel were well guarded and all those climbing the hill were being questioned. The guide asked the first of the guards where to deliver the horses, and he was pointed to a cartway that skirted a shallow pond that was likely a flooded pasture. They rode slowly so that Raynar could look at everything, and count men and mounts, and stare at the armour and weapons that men carried.
The horse master
at the count's paddock in Bavinchove did not argue price, he set it. Pretending an attempt at bargaining, Raynar told him he would take his horses home rather than to sell them so cheaply.
The horse master laughed and held out the same purse as he first offered. "Take it or go," he said. He was shocked when the horse traders turned and began to lead their horses away. "You are a fool to refuse coin, when I can claim your horses in any case," he yelled after them.
Raynar turned his horse. "What I was told was a price a tenth higher than you have offered, else I would not have come. Whose pocket is the tenth in. Yours?" The horse master did not laugh or bargain. He raged. Raynar realized his mistake. He had spoken too closely to the truth. He signaled his men to leave, and leave fast.
The horse master yelled at the guards to stop them, but the guards had heard the argument. They did not like this horse master from Saint Omer or his lord, Gerbod. What the horse trader said was likely true. Why should they trouble themselves to stop these traders, just to put coins in the horse master's pocket. They purposefully moved slowly and looked around like they were confused. What were they expected to do? Step in front of twenty horses that were already gaining speed.
The four horse traders retraced their way along the cartway and then along the Street. They kept looking over their shoulders to see if they were being followed but they weren't. Halfway back to the monastery the street was blocked by a very large herd of horses heading to Cassel.
Flanders had kept their Roman streets in good repair and for good reason. They were built up above the wet land so that they remained passable in all weather and even through the floods of spring tides. This also meant that in the wet season they could be blocked with no easy way around, as this street now was by two herds of horses going in opposite directions. Raynar and his guide were still playing horse traders so they pushed their way through the other herd to talk to the other traders.
