Hoodsman: Revolt of the Earls Page 10
He could see Raynar speaking to some men apart from the rest. He pretended not to notice them. That would be Raynar giving instructions to other hoodsmen. Today's message must also reach the men of Shropshire and Herefordshire. They were Belleme's shires so the message must spread carefully and secretly and only between men that knew the risks and could fight alone and without direction. That meant seeking the help of the Brotherhood of the Arrow. The Hood. And Raynar was one of them. He was almost sure of it.
Henry had been slow to learn about the hoodsmen. Before Rufus had been killed by them, he had thought them merely a loosely banded group of outlaws surviving in the forests by hunting and thieving. Through Raynar and Wyl and from his visits to their inn next to the old Roman Temple outside London's walls, he had come to realize that the hoodsmen had the support of merchants and traders. John the Wheelwright was Raynar’s childhood friend. If John was also a hoodsman, then he had totally underestimated the size and organization of the Hood.
John ran the biggest carting business in Wessex. He must be connected to a thousand carters or more, plus the stable hands and skinners. Through the carters the hoodsmen would have eyes on every mile of the highways and ears in every alehouse. Carters were big men, tough men. Men with coin in their pockets and horse power at their command.
He idly wondered to himself if his understanding of the Hood was totally upside down. Was the brotherhood actually a brotherhood of carters and teamsters, and the bowmen of the forest were their protection along the highways. He looked up as the carter with the ale walked along the men re-filling their bowls. Raynar was no longer beside the river. Groups of men had formed and were making their ways back to their camps.
* * * * *
Five days later, Raynar led his small cavalcade through the blockade to the north of Arundel castle. The kings men pulled the barrier away as soon as they recognized the robes of a king's tax man. Riding with him were the two Norman couriers from the castle, with messages for Robert Montgomery, who in France was known as the Lord of Belleme or the Count of Ponthieu, and in Normandy was known as the Viscount of Hiémois, but here in England was known as the Earl of Shrewsbury in court, and Belleme the Impaler in the villages. Raynar was being careful to hide his French language skills from these two Norman couriers hoping that they would then speak freely to each other in that tongue.
Also riding with him were four young bowmen hand picked for the task. They each knew firsthand a part of Shropshire and had helped Raynar fill in details on the maps he had brought in his pipe. They each spoke some Welsh, which they could switch too if they needed secrecy from the couriers. They each had already killed, and each had their own vengeful reasons to put a shaft through Belleme's heart. One of them was the younger of the two bowmen who had ridden into Arundel with him.
Henry had not asked why Raynar had chosen these men and Raynar did not volunteer the information. He would do his best to make Henry's plan work, but he had lived too long and seen too many good men die, for want of one shaft through one heart. If Belleme gave him the opportunity, that would be his fate, rather than a court imposed exile.
The small group rode towards Winchester following the same River Rother valley that Raynar had used to reach Arundel. It was a long way to Shrewsbury, but he had some good company with quick minds and many stories to share. One of the bowmen, aptly named Brunt and the best of them with the sword, rode beside Raynar at the point. The other three bowmen trailed the couriers and watched them for signs of flight, though in truth, if they were to try flight it would not be until they were within spitting distance of Shropshire.
"Robert Montgomery is not right in his head," said Brunt as they bore left to leave the Arun valley. "He should never have been made the earl."
"It was never meant to be," replied Raynar. "He was supposed to be the lord of the Montgomery's estates in France while his brother Hugh was earl in England, but his brother Hugh, Hugh the Fat, was killed while raiding Anglesey back in the summer of '98." Raynar remembered Hugh's death well. It had been an especially fine shot from his old Byzantine bow.
"Hugh was no better," Brunt said. "The whole of the Montgomery clan are like mad dogs. Hugh's favourite punishment was cutting off hands and feet, whereas Robert prefers impaling them on posts or hanging them from hooks."
Raynar noticed that the lad had stopped talking, so he took a quick look at his face. There were tears in the lad's eyes and he pretended not to notice.
Brunt sniffed, coughed, and spat. "My dad was a mason who worked for Belleme on Shrewsbury castle. Last year, one of Belleme's knights ravaged my sister. My dad was a freeman as was my sister, so there were charges to be laid and penalties to be paid. Belleme judged the case personally and found the knight guilty of the charges but set the wergild at only one shilling. Needless to say, the knight was severely beaten by the end of the week. Belleme blamed my dad for the knight's beating and sentenced him, without a trial, to be impaled.
That same effing knight was put in charge of the impaling. He had me and my m’am held so we could not interfere, but no one was watching my sister. She ran forward screaming and leaped into dad's arms in order to finish him quickly. An impaling can last for days. My dad's lasted but a minute because of my sister's added weight.
Belleme was furious at being cheated of his spectacle. That night some friends helped us to leave the town. We were outlawed. Outlaws do not live well in Shropshire. My sister and my mam were caught and I have heard nothing more of them since. I expect they are sex slaves in one of Belleme's whorehouses."
"I have heard many such stories from Shropshire," Raynar replied, "and about Belleme, and yet I hear he is keenly intelligent. He designed that castle at Arundel and a few more beside. It was very well done."
"Blood crazy doesn't mean stupid," replied Brunt, back in control of his emotions. "Besides, the stupid ones don't last long, whereas the smart ones charm their way with powerful allies while they spread their evil."
"Well this crazy one is about to come to a bad end. This Earl's revolt is about to be crushed."
* * * * *
* * * * *
The Hoodsman - Revolt of the Earls by Skye Smith
Chapter 12 - Reporting to Edith in Winchester in July 1102
The courier party entered Winchester and immediately made for the palace. They had barely released their horses to the palace's stable lads before Edith came in unbecoming haste into the forecourt. Everyone, including Raynar bowed to her. The captain of the palace guard was with her and immediately took charge of the comfort of Arundel's couriers and Raynar's bowmen. Edith took Raynar's arm and steered him towards the women's garden where they could speak in private.
"You are back so soon. You must have good news," she hinted for him to tell all.
"Arundel has all but fallen. For all I know they may have surrendered already. We used the siege engines to foul their water. The couriers that ride with me are Belleme's men from Arundel castle. I take them to find Belleme to ask for his permission to surrender Arundel."
"And Henry? How is his health?" she asked and held her breath waiting for the answer.
"He was close to death from the physician's bleedings when I arrived, but now he is getting stronger every day. I sent the physician packing with a boot up his arse and put his two nurses in charge of his food and his health."
"I have pleaded with him to keep a Greek physician with his courtiers, but he never listens," she sighed. "These nurses, are they young and pretty?"
"Daughters of the local miller. Yes they are young and pretty, but with a goodly amount of uncommon sense and earthy know how. As I was leaving they were sending for their mum to take over Henry's kitchen. She is supposedly a right old battle axe and big enough to hold Henry down and force the medicine into him."
"Medicine," she looked at him in panic, "what kind of medicine?"
"One of my preparations made from the river bank herbs. Henry had eaten some dirty or old food and a foulness was growing in his
stomach. The medicine will kill whatever has gotten into him and flush it out. I've put him on a diet of fermented milk and liver soup until he mends."
"I knew I was right to send you to him," she said quietly. "His couriers had mentioned to me about his infirmity though he never mentioned it in his dispatches."
"By the surprise in his face at seeing me, I guessed that he had not sent for me." He grabbed her hand and squeezed it hard. "When will you two learn to simply tell me the truth. I take affront at being manipulated as if I were a Norman courtier. If you want something of me, just ask."
She looked around to ensure no one was within hearing distance and then she said softly, "Kill Belleme. There, is that direct enough? Kill him before he kills Henry. Kill him before thousands die on a battlefield."
"Henry does not want me to kill Normans. He willingly imprisons them, but he refuses to kill them. If I kill Belleme I fear he will outlaw me. That said, it is likely that the couriers I chaparone will lead me into Belleme's company. If you truly want him dead, then I will try to kill him."
"I truly ask it, but not at the cost of your own life," she pulled her crushed hand from his grip and caressed his face softly with the back of her freed hand. "And know this, and know this well. No matter what you do, I will not allow you to be outlawed, nor any that help you."
"How many more months will you be nursing little Mathilde?" he asked, looking at the size of her breasts.
"A few months, no more," she replied.
"And what if Henry needs you beside him?"
"Babies still on the tit are very portable. I can ride to meet him."
"My mission for Henry may take months. I leave tomorrow." He said and then they both sat in silence for a long while. "May I stay here at the palace tonight so we can share a meal, I mean, if you are not too tired and if that would please you." Raynar asked this out of mere politeness, as he knew she would not refuse him. "Right now I must go and find John."
"I would come with you, save Mar would scold me again and force more sheep’s curd down my throat." Her mind was still keen though her body was still sloth from bearing a child. "Why John?"
"Henry plans on raising the fyrd."
"What, why, ahh, of course, the raising of the fyrd. The English custom of calling on local men to support the army. But will they rise to his call? He is the Conqueror's son."
"Not to his call. Umm, did he not ask you?"
"Ask me what?" Edith asked.
"Ask you to raise the fyrd. You are the Queen and you are English. They would rise to your call, at least some of them."
"He has never mentioned it, never mind asked my permission."
"Do you give that permission now, to me, for I need your answer before I speak to John?"
"Will it save men or put more men at risk?" Edith asked.
"That I do not know. It is like praying for a storm to water your crops. What if the storm is too great and floods them."
"Will it work. It has been so long since the fyrd was raised. Decades. Does anyone still remember how to do it?" As Edith asked this, she made her decision. "Yes, do it in my name."
"Yes, I think it will work," he replied. "but that is one of the things I need to discuss with John. They last time I saw the fyrd raised was when there was still an English Earl. Before the Normans came, the fyrd was raised through the nobles and their lords. Each lord organized and equipped the fyrdmen local to him. This is different. Henry cannot trust the support of the Norman nobles and lords, and besides, they have no precedent for raising the fyrd. Henry needs to raise the fyrd directly, without using the lords."
"But, but," her mind raced, "but that is akin to organizing a peasant's rebellion. Peasants led by peasants, not lords. I assume he will use his English archers to organize them, for the fyrd will not follow his knights. It will be a peasant army, which could so easily become a peasant uprising against all Normans and all lords."
"I have already warned him of this. He is aware of the risks. He is determined to raise the fyrd in Mercia and have them join his attack on Belleme in Shropshire."
"Go then, and talk with John." she said as if she were dismissing a courtier, but then caught herself and added, "We will dine when you return, and afterwards you are welcome to sleep in my quarters. That will allow us to visit some more, and in private."
Raynar kissed her forehead and then pulled her to her feet and walked her arm in arm over to her two maids who were gossiping on a bench under a small cherry tree. He was so proud of Edith, his secret daughter. She and her sister Mary were his love children by Margaret of Scotland. It was his most closely kept secret, and theirs.
Margaret had first provided healthy sons and heirs for old king Malcolm of Scotland, so every one had assumed that Malcolm's daughters were also his. Everyone assumed that in Edith was a merging of the Scottish and the English royal bloodlines. Instead, Edith carried his peasant blood. It was a secret that must be kept.
* * * * *
The early summer sun had allowed an early start for Arundel's couriers and their escort. They left the palace before the kitchen was stirring and took the Roman street to the mill town of Andover where they stopped at an alehouse on the outskirts of the village and had a rest and a morning meal.
As was his custom, Raynar chose an alehouse frequented by carters. The carters watched them enter and at the sight of his treasury robes they all talk stopped. Once they were seated at a bench and had ordered crisp pork slices and eggs all around and had been delivered ale and fresh bread, the carters began talking again, but only in whispers and murmurs. A short man who looked strong enough to lift an ox stood and was being encouraged to do something by the men at his bench.
"You'se the king's men, no?" the short man asked in bad French.
"I am the queen's man, yes. How can I help you?" Raynar replied in English and chose to use Saxon words, rather than Danish. There was an encouraging murmur from all around. He watched the couriers from the corner of his eye while he spoke. The elder of them must know some English, as he was listening closely and mouthing the words to himself to better his understanding. So be it, he thought. Let them take some real news to Belleme.
"Some carters from Winchester just told us that King Henry is raising the fyrd. He needs help to sweep Belleme out of Shropshire. Is that true?" the short man asked, and the entire alehouse went quiet to hear the answer.
Raynar was expecting the question. Yesterday John had sent messages out with every one of his carters to spread the word in every direction. He had also sent messengers north to pass the word to the Hood. It was amazing how oxcarts that traveled at less than a walking pace could race gossip across the countryside faster than a galloping horse. Or so it seemed. Perhaps it was because gossip never rests, whereas messengers must.
Andover lived in the shadow of Winchester and there would be resentment here for the rich life of the city. Raynar decided to use the resentment to help speed the spread of his words. "Bloody Winchester dullards. They got it wrong as usual." There was laughter and toasting all around. "It's the queen that is raising the fyrd, not the king. She fears that treachery from the Norman lords will cause the death of Henry. She's right to think so. They are a slimy lot. She is new with child, yet she swears she will lead the fyrd herself if that is what it takes to save the English folk from bastards like Belleme the Impaler."
There were yells of agreement and other yells for the full news, rather than the flawed gossip of the Winchester carters. "Queen Edith," Raynar used her English name rather than the Norman one, Mathilde. "Queen Edith is calling on every dangerous Englishman to dig up his weapons and to hurry to Staffordshire. There are Welsh raiders in the pay of Belleme who are doing vile things to the farmers there. She wants the fyrd to save Staffordshire from the Welsh and to sweep them back into Shropshire before they have a chance to ambush Henry. Then she wants the fyrd to slaughter any Norman that does not bow to Henry."
The outrage at word of the Welsh raiders was so loud that he had t
o repeat the message twice more. By that time every man in the alehouse was throwing coins to the keeper and making for the gate. The carter gossip now had wings. It was the English Queen's order that they slaughter Welshmen and Normans. They were being ordered to do exactly what many of them had longed to do for a decade or more.
Within minutes they were alone with the keeper of the alehouse. He brought them their food. "You've stirred up a hornet's nest now sir. Every man on the downs will be digging up his weapons cache before noon of this day."
Raynar nodded. "The queen needs all the help she can get. Bastards like Belleme have been a yoke around our necks for too long, and Henry is our best hope to be rid of them." He looked around the table. The elder courier was translating his words to the other. They both wolfed their food. There was a new found urgency for them to reach Belleme.
They kept to Ermyn Way and it took them over the downs to Marlburgh where they rested, and ate, and gossiped at another alehouse. Ermyn Way continued through the downs and then crossed the Vale of the White Horse. He decided to overnight at the manor at High Suindune which welcomed any of the crown's agents, even tax collectors. There was still two hours to sunset, and the couriers were eager to continue, but Raynar refused and had them bedded down in a secured room.
The knight of the manor was the son of one of Bishop Odo's knights. In 1067 this manor had been an honor given by William the Conqueror to his half brother, the odious Odo, but it had since reverted to the crown. The knight was the equivalent of the constable of the area and kept his lively hood by serving the wishes of the crown, no matter who wore it. He had heard the gossip about the raising of the fyrd, so Raynar confirmed its truth.
"If the king has not sent you orders yet, he will soon," said Raynar to the knight. "Some lords are being called up with the fyrd, but most are being asked to just feed and provision the fyrd, and hurry them on their way to Staffordshire."
"Would it be wise for me to ride to Staffordshire and join the king?" the knight asked.