by Smith, Skye
"Do you think any got through before you got here?" asked Raynar.
"Na, those were good horses you bought. Got us here before the morning traffic started. So why did you bring all the wolfpacks?"
"The French army is less than two miles from you. Do the jesters know the power of your bows?" asked Raynar.
The wolfshead finished passing out ten marks to each man. "Those Frenchie scouts, no. No need, was there. They tried to get across along the banks, but the mud slowed them so much that we stopped them by throwing stones." The man meant that they had used their slings, which each bowman wore as a belt.
"Let us hope they don't have crossbows. We just have to delay them. We have slaughtered the cavalry and their leaders, and now we must wait while the nobles discuss the terms for the surrender of Cassel. Once we have Cassel, I think the French king will lose interest in fighting and make his peace with Robert."
The bowmen tied all the horses in one long line along the south edge of the street. There was a small bank of land on that side that had some thick grass and enough space to keep the horses from clogging the roadway.
Meanwhile, Raynar paced out the range of a crossbow bolt and scratched a line across the street at that point. He told all the men to move to behind the line and then relax and snooze or eat something. The wolfheads, on the other hand, gathered close to Raynar.
"Sort of a waste having so many of us here," said one, "the original wolfpack could have held this gap just as well."
"You are probably right," said Raynar, "but these Franks are great ones for bargaining and dickering rather than fighting. It can't hurt to have such a show of force. Just remember that we are here to delay them, not to rile them."
French knights with pennants had finally arrived on the other side of the gap that used to be a bridge. They ordered the bowmen to let them pass. "So who is stopping you," Raynar shouted back in French. "Come across. We won't stop you. The bridge is out, and we are only here to make sure that no drunk carter falls into the water." The men sitting with him were biting their hands to stop from laughing aloud. "We won't stop you. We promise."
The first two knights, who were the only ones who seemed to be in full armour, pulled their horses around to step over the low wall at the edge of the street and walked them along the bank. Slowly they entered the flooded field and all was fine for a few steps until they stopped their horses. Then the legs of the horses slowly began to sink into the mud.
One of the horses panicked and reared to pull its front hoofs out of the muck, which took the knight by surprise and he went over the back of the saddle and ended on his back in the water. It took six scouts to stand him up and waddle him back to the bank. The other knight looked a fool as his horse continued to sink.
The knight commander in bright colors and a flowing cloak was the next to yell across the ditch. "Help us across or pay the price," he yelled to them, "go to Cassel and bring back timbers to span this gap."
"It's sunset. We have knocked off for the day. You'll have to send for timbers back the way you came," said Raynar and then he translated the words to the men closest to him, who passed it on. And so started an hour of banter and jests at the expense of the French lords.
Eventually the French were wise enough to bring some long carts forward. Their plan was obvious. They would use manpower to tip the unloaded cart on its end at the edge of the trench and then drop it into place to create a light bridge. First however, the fanciful knight commander order his crossbowmen forward to clear the rude and obnoxious peasants from the street.
The crossbowmen got one useless volley loosed and while they were reloading, three times a hundred heavy arrows replied. The carnage amongst the lead knights, the scouts, and the crossbowmen stunned them into full retreat. The French had learned some critical facts. The other side of the gap was manned by bowmen. The range of their bows was much longer than that of the crossbows. The heavy points pierced armour with ease.
Now there was a hail from across the gap and a troop of men on foot carrying white flags approached the edge. They had to come on foot to step between the writhing bodies of men and horses on the roadway. "We would parley," they yelled. "We promise no shafts while these flags fly."
Raynar and his self appointed guard paced suspiciously forward to the edge of the gap. Behind them twenty bows were nocked. "Speak, we will not loose before you do," yelled Raynar.
"I am Philip, the King of France, and I have come by invitation of Cassel and Count Arnulf and Countess Rachilde. To whom am I speaking?"
"You're not the King of France," responded Raynar. "You're not tall enough. I'll wager barley to coin that the man to your left is the King and you are just his bumboy." There were snickers on both sides of the ditch. "Which of you is Baldwin, son of Rachilde?"
A lad to the right of the King hesitantly stepped forward. "I am Baldwin."
"I bring you sad news lad, so prepare yourself for it." Raynar let him prepare. "Your brother is dead. Your new step father is dead. Your mother is my prisoner."
The king stepped forward though others pulled him back. They had shields ready on either side of him to cover in case of arrows, and when he stepped forward the shields were useless.
"Lad, is that young man beside you the king" Raynar yelled at Baldwin.
The lad was shaking and trying to breath slowly. "Yes. He is Philip of France."
Raynar turned to his men and yelled so all could hear. "See the lad. No arrow touches him. Agreed." The men yelled their agreement with a roar that showed the French how many they were.
"I repeat, who are you? Why should I believe you?" asked the King.
"If it were not true, don't you think that five hundred infantry would be charging our backs down that street from Cassel? Don't you think your cavalry would be slashing at us?"
"Who are you?"
"We are English. William is our king. King of the English. His wife may be the Countess here soon."
"What!" yelled Philip. "William is here. That bastard!"
"I didn't say that, now, did I," corrected Raynar. "I don't know were he is at the moment, but it is likely he is on his way now that Englishmen have taken Cassel." There was no response to this because the lords on the other side were talking in low voices. "It is not just the lad that must hear bad news. I have bad news for any of you who had brothers and cousins in the cavalry at Cassel. They are dead. Only a hundred men survived, so your cousins are likely dead."
"I would have your name, man" ordered the king.
"I am Raynar Porter, late of the mines of the Peaks where I earned my crust by carrying lead ore."
"A peasant," the king gasped.
Raynar looked down at his filthy clothes. "Last time I looked."
"Do you still say you will not stop us from coming through?" asked the big man to the king's left.
"That offer was cancelled as soon as you shot bolts at us. There is no way we will let you through now. You are lucky though, that there is another street to Cassel. See" he pointed to the north in the dimming light. "See that line along the water. That is another street. Perhaps it doesn't have a broken bridge." He waited while they all looked. "Mind you there are sixty English bowmen on that street too, all with bows like ours, so I pity any bugger that tried to come that way without a king to wave white flags at them."
"I will have you drawn and quartered you, you, peasant!" the big man yelled angrily.
"Drop the white flags and threaten me again, if you dare," replied Raynar. The flags did not drop.
"Bugger," said Raynar to himself. The hoodsman beside him caught the word and questioned it. "I was hoping this king would give me an excuse to put a shaft through him. It looks like he has more sense than that. He is going to turn around."
The king did turn around and started to pick his way through the bodies. Raynar noticed that no one on the French side was doing anything to help the wounded. "Oy, king," he yelled, "If the boy wants to join his mother, he is welcome. Neither will come t
o any harm, and it would calm her heart to have him safe beside her. This day has been hard on her."
"He comes with me. He is now heir to Mons and Hainaut and I would not have him in Robert's hands."
"Is that where you go now, Philip, to Mons or to Hainaut. Where will we send notice of ransom for the survivors of your cavalry?"
"I go to Normandy to discuss this day with my vassal, the Duke of Normandy."
"Oh, you mean my king," Raynar yelled back. "Please tell him for me that his plan worked perfectly. We have taken Flanders."
From high on the walls of Cassel, Eustace of Boulogne watched as the French army turned and marched away. Raynar sent messengers on fast horses to the wolfpacks on the other street, and to Prince Canute. "When you see the prince," he instructed the messengers, "tell him to tell the Countess that her son is healthy and is retreating with Philip."
In the morning Eustace agreed to swap Robert for Rachilde, to surrendered the mount, to accept Robert as Count of Flanders, and to call a complete Flanders wide truce so that men could return to their homes without fear. All prisoners with homes in the low counties were released without ransom, though any mounts, weapons, and armour that had already been surrendered were lost to them. French prisoners from France and Normandy were kept at Cassel for ransom.
* * * * *
* * * * *
The Hoodsman - Ely Wakes by Skye Smith
Chapter 26 - A trollop on the run in London in October 1101
"There they are," said voices from the street, "surround them but don't bash on them until we find out who they are." Eustace’s two guards walked out of the shadows towards the voices and partially unsheathed their swords. Eustace and Mary pulled back into the shadows and tried not to breathe.
"Now, now, no need to draw steel," said a voice, "we are the Watch, and there has been a complaint about rowdiness at the Holborn Inn. Have you been there tonight?"
"We were there not long ago. We were trying to keep the peace until you arrived, but it got too wild and the two of us were not enough," said the voice of one of the guards.
"We are looking for an older foreign gentleman, well dressed, and his trollop. Have you seen them?"
"Yes. They were walking down this street a few minutes ago."
"And who are you?"
"We are men at arms for the Count of Boulogne. We were off duty and looking for ale and company, but that Inn proved too bawdy. We had been instructed by the Count to keep the peace."
"Right, like we believe that you were totally innocent. Well you can stop lurking in shadows and push off to your billet. If we see you out again this evening we will haul you in."
Eustace's two guards had no choice but to walk away in the company of the watch. The couple listened until the voices receded into the darkness.
Mary put her arms around the Count's neck, pulled herself up to his face, and kissed him full on the lips. "Did you hear the watch? I am your trollop." She let herself down not caring that her top had fallen down again. "Now that we are alone, let me tell you the rest.
I am used to having court men ogle me and watch me and fantasize over me, but I have never before seen such animal lust in men, and I created that by dancing for those crude men. I felt as lusty as they. Part of me wanted to be taken, and I feel that excitement still." She pulled herself up to his lips again and looked into his eyes and smiled the widest of smiles.
He drew back. "No Mary. You go too far. I am oathed to protect you. Do not tease me so."
"I know you want me. I felt you grow hard while I sat on your knee."
"Of course I want you, more than anything, anything. If it weren't for my oath I would kidnap you to Calais and marry you and love you forever. That is why Raynar forced the oath on me."
"And would you let me visit the alehouses of Calais?"
"So long as you stay safe, you can do anything you want. You could rescue me from my boring duties and take me with you. I promise to practice my fist fighting and ball kicking so that I can keep up with you."
"Oh Eustace. It is just a dream isn't it. We both have our duties. I must wed whomever Henry chooses, just as my mother was forced to wed Malcolm of Scotland." She reached down and pulled her top back up and walked towards the street. "Come, let's go home and fix this."
"Got you" yelled the watchman as he grabbed her around her waste and boosted her off her feet.
"No, let her go!" yelled Eustace and leaped out of the shadows and reached for his sword, only to remember that he had left it at the house. Two other watchmen pummeled him to the ground. He stopped wrestling and went limp so that they would stop too. "I am the Count of Boulogne. I am in this country as the guest of the King. You will release me, and you will immediately release the woman."
"And I am the Earl of Kent. Now shut yur face and get to your feet. Ooh, nice titties. Bring her over here Jacko. Let's ave a bedder luk."
"My god man." Eustace reached into an inside pocket of his jerkin to find the signet ring he had hidden there while in the alehouse. "Look at this ring. Don't throw your life away. Look at the ring."
The watchman picked the ring out of his fingers and walked towards the corner where there was a torch burning so he could inspect it. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he muttered, and then called to his mate. "Jacko, I think we have a problem. Either this ring is stolen, or this bugger is someone important. Here, have a luk at it."
Jacko walked over hauling Mary with him. She was still wriggling half naked under his arm. "Bugger."
"Put her down, now!" ordered the Count. "She is my trollop, paid for the week. She is showing me the night life of London. What happened at the Inn was none of our doing. She was too pretty for the place and some of the low life got out of hand."
"Can anyone vouch for you?" Jacko set Mary down and she ran to Eustace as she pulled up her top.
"Two streets away is the house of the Ambassador to Boulogne. He will so vouch." He pulled Mary towards him and shielded her in his arms.
"Let's go."
* * * * *
Raynar punctuated the end of his story about the Battle for Cassel by throwing another small log on the brazier which sent sparks up into the sky.
"Bloody amazing," said one of the four palace guards who had brought Gregos to the ambassador's house. "The King of bloody France, you say. You called the King of France a bum boy."
One of the other guards asked "So did it work. Did they go back to France and leave Flanders for that Frisian feller?"
"Oh, aye," replied Raynar. "And Robert was the best thing that ever happened to Flanders. He got those folk out of the clutches of the Franks who were spreading serfdom up from the south of Europe to the north. Flanders became peaceful almost immediately, and they went back to doing what they do best. Controlling the trade going from the North Sea and up the Rhine."
"What's a Rhine?" asked the first man.
"Oh, it's a big river like the Thames, but much longer. It connects the Germanies to the North Sea, so a lot of cargo goes up and down it. And Flanders takes a cut of all of the loads."
"You must be exaggerating," the third guardsman was skeptical. "You don't win an entire county the size of Flanders with one battle. Look at what happened here in England with the Conqueror. The battles went on for ten years."
"It's the truth. It was because the entire heavy cavalry had been killed or taken prisoner. Without their cavalry, the Franks did not want to fight any more. Of course it helped that Robert the Frisian was a very smart man. His first law as Count was an amnesty and pardon to all those Flems who had supported Arnulf. After all, Arnulf was the true heir of his brother. He couldn't fault men for being loyal."
They were interrupted by a loud knock at the gate. "Open up to the watch," was the yell. The gatekeeper roused himself from the story of long ago, limped to the gate, and peered out of the shutter. "Master, come quickly!" he yelled. "It is the watch and they have the Count."
With a squad of palace guards and the Counts own men in the yard, the merc
hant held no fears of any watch. He told his man to swing the gate open.
One of the watch pushed the Count forward. "Do you know this man?"
"He is the Count of Boulogne. Brother to the King of Jerusalem Is there a problem?" the ambassador responded elegantly.
"No problem, we were just escortin im ome. You," he pointed to Mary, "you're comin' wid us to the guard 'ouse."
Eustace pulled her out of their reach. "Leave her with me."
"Not possible. She's a trouble maker. We must hold her in case there are complaints."
"What will happen to her at the guard house?" asked the ambassador.
"Nothin much. She's a pretty one. She'll be freed in the morning if she sucks on the right knobs."
The ambassador counted the watchmen. "Would five shillings mean that you can leave her with us, or must we discuss this with the palace?"
The count's two guards from the alehouse brawl chose this moment to come out of the shadows and walk across the street to stand behind the watch.
"Ugh, five shillings is generous, you are welcome to her."
Mary suddenly felt very self-conscious about her dishevelment. She ran through the house calling for the daughters to help her. She ran into their room and slammed the door behind her. After a few minutes there were shrieks of shock and delight and laughter from the room.
Raynar came through from the yard and looked at the count's bruised face and his torn and dirty clothes. "Big fun, then."
"Big fun. Big, big, fun. I will tell you everything later."
"Are you coming out to the fire to trade stories, then?"
"No, I will be in my room cleaning up," replied the count. He moved closer to Raynar and whispered, "Umm, give me a few minutes and then break in and threaten to kill me. Don't ask why yet, but if this works I will be the happiest man in London."
