The Hoodsman - Killing Kings Read online

  On seeing this sword, any swordsman worth his metal would immediately covet it, and mark it, and remember it. This had already been proven in the streets of Winchester. Risto, of course, was scornful of the clumsy short sword of a merchant, which was barely longer than a dagger, and refused leave his own cherished Andalusian sword in Winchester.

  Raynar offered him his staff, which made Risto laugh with scorn, until Raynar twisted and pulled the top of the staff away. The false end was a sheath for a long and wicked dagger blade which served as a spear point. Risto took a closer look at the seemingly ordinary staff. It was made of very strong but springy wood.

  "I made it from a seasoned ywen bow staff that was too heavy to make into a long bow," Raynar explained. "With it you will still look like a merchant, but it can be a deadly surprise should you need it. The staff is hard enough to block many blows from a sharp sword before it fails. It becomes a lance, a spear, a pike, and all with one twist of your wrist."

  While Risto hefted the staff-come-pike, Raynar walked to his pallet and reached for one of his decorative waist belts. "Can you use a sling?" he asked Risto.

  Risto took the belt and saw immediately, that though it looked like a fine belt, in truth it was a sling. "I can sling well enough. I was born a shepherd." He fingered the heavy ends of the belt and fingered the lead shot trapped there.

  "With the shot in the end of the belt, the belt itself becomes a weapon that you can swing at someone’s head. Or if you have no stones, or need a killing shot, then you use the lead weights as shot," Raynar explained.

  "But what of you? I am disarming you," queried Risto.

  "I still have my short sword and my other sling," replied Raynar "If we meet with danger, I will be busy talking our way around it. You cannot speak without betraying your disguise. Instead you can be watching from behind and be preparing for any trouble. Both Gregos and I have twenty-five years on you, whereas you are an expert swordsman and an athlete. It is far better that you carry the weapons."

  Risto gave up packing and took his new weapons downstairs to practice their use with the watcher at the gate. All watchers used staffs and short staffs as their weapons of choice, because the work of a watcher is only to block and delay until help arrives, and then afterwards to bear witness. Later, from Mar's upstairs window, Raynar could see Risto collecting smooth stones along the riverbank.

  "I must teach both of them more English before they reach the north," thought Raynar. There were many foreigners in Winchester and London, but away from those cities, foreigners were rare and were feared in the villages, especially in the North.

  He was still trying to catch up on sleep, so he stretched out on Mar's big bed, big because John was such a big man. He just needed to put his head down, just for a few minutes, with his eyes closed. The words 'foreigners' and 'the North' rattled around in his mind and he dreamed he was searching for carts again.

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  THE HOODSMAN - Killing Kings by Skye Smith

  Chapter 13 - Mill on the River Ouse, Yorkshire in September 1066

  Lost. He was lost. He, Raynar Porter, was lost.

  He finally had to admit it to himself.

  Bloody bloody flat land, can't see where you are.

  Bloody bloody flatlanders, don't put up markers.

  Bloody bloody low clouds, can't mark the direction of shadows.

  Bloody bloody marshland, the paths just end.

  He was thinking this just as the path he was following ended, and he had to pull back quickly to save himself from slipping down a bank and into a river. Well, at least he had found a deep river that should be on his map, so he sat on the bank and looked at the map. Was this the River Wharfe or the River Ouse. He looked hard at the map. It must be the Wharfe, for he couldn't have been so far lost for it to be the Ouse.

  The turmoil in his mind eased with the thought that he was found and no longer lost, for it didn't matter which of the rivers it was. If he turned left and followed it, it would lead him to Tatecastre.

  He looked at the sky. Heavy clouds were boiling upwards, and moving in from the north east. The fyrd on the highway will be watching the same clouds and worrying about their crops. Was this a passing storm, or the start of days of rain. It was almost dark and he was about to get very wet.

  It was the nature of rivers to wind about, and this one was true to its nature, but by staring through the last twilight across the curve of the next bend, he could just make out a mill wheel. Where there was a mill, there may be a dry bed and some food. The question was, would this cart track lead him there. He almost committed himself to the scramble along the river bank, but then he reminded himself that if this was the River Ouse, then there could be Norse about. He would stick to the cover along the tracks.

  The tracks did not lead to the mill and he was forced onto overland trails in the dark. This was actually a good thing, because it allowed him to approach the mill cautiously as if he were tracking a buck. Curious that there was no cartway to the mill. Of course, the river, all freight went by boat. He crept up to the river bank, but there were no boats. He peered through the darkness both up and down stream, but could not see anything moving on the river.

  After listening carefully for any sounds, he crept to the closest corner of the buildings. There was a barn with a mill attached and a separate house with some outbuildings. Probably a kitchen shed and some animal pens. He did a half circle around the barn, and then looked back the other way towards the mill wheel.

  There was a dock and a large door on the river side of the barn. That explained the lack of doors on the land side. He crept across the yard to the house to circle it, too. It was built corner on to the river so that the upper windows of the front corner had a view both up and down stream.

  Around the back of the house he tripped over something soft, and fell face to face on top of a man. He stifled a yelp and rolled aside as quietly as he could. He couldn't see much in the shadows, but it was a large man. An old man with light hair and a bushy light beard. There was no smell of death yet. He sat for a long time beside the corpse, and opened his ears to listen. Nothing.

  With his courage partially restored, Raynar continued around the house watching carefully for other hazards and especially other bodies. There were none. The door of the house was closed, and he hoped that it had greased pivots as he pushed it open. Of course it did. This was a mill, run by a miller who understood such things.

  The ground floor was one large room with tables and benches and pallets. It probably housed men and animals during cold weather. There was a steep set of stairs up through the low ceiling. He returned to the door and closed it and set a clay pot behind it which would fall and rattle if the door was opened. He had thought of bolting it or blocking it with a bench, but that would tell anyone who pushed on the door that there was someone still inside.

  He sloped up the stairs and discovered that the upstairs was separated into two rooms. He tested the floor for creaks, but they were solid. He shuffled slowly over to a set of corner windows at the river end, and carefully peered out and looked both up and down stream. He stilled himself and his breathing so he could concentrate on watching for any movement. There was none. The second room also had windows on the outside corners. He peered out carefully. His heart stopped. There was movement.

  A lot of movement. The longer he watched, the more he could visualize what his eyes were reaching out to see. Two horses being led by three men. The center man was smaller and fighting the others. There was a glint of a blade and the center man quieted. They entered the yard, and one man moved away from the others and started creeping around the barn mimicking the actions that Raynar had just finished. After checking the barn, the man did the same with the house.

  Raynar waited for a sound that he knew was coming. The corpse would be almost directly beneath this window. The sound came, a thump and a fall and a muffled yelp. The man broke off his skulking and walked back to the yard and the horse
s. He said something and another replied. He couldn't make out what they were saying, not because they were too far away, but because they were speaking in a language strange to him.

  He caught some of the words. The words that were in-common to most northern languages. Words like: Nobody, No boat, Horses, Barn, Rain, Woman.

  Woman. He looked carefully down and strained his eyes. The third man, the struggling man, was a woman.

  One of the men dragged the woman to the door of the house. His chest was glinting like the blade had glinted. He was wearing metal armour. Not mail, but actual armour. They were out of his sight line now, but it was obvious they were going to the door of the house. She was pushed through the doorway. The clay pot rattled and a mans voice spoke in halting Danish. "You wait for us in here. You will keep us warm tonight. You make trouble and you die. Understand? "

  He watched the men lead the horses down onto the dock and heard the horseshoes echo hollowly on the dock's planks. He saw the shadow of the barn door opening. Even it did not squeak on its pivots.

  Raynar was down the steps in one long stride. He whispered quickly in Danish, "I am a friend. I am a friend. I can help you. Do you understand? I can help you. Say something. They are in the barn, they cannot hear."

  A young female voice sobbed back, "You cannot help." More sobs. "They are Norse. They are strong. They are armed. They would as soon kill you as speak to you." More sobs. "They are here for the night. They will take me all night, and if I am lucky they will leave me alive." She shuddered a large breath. "But you, you they will kill. Go back upstairs. Hide. Stay quiet. I will not tell."

  Raynar moved closer to the voice. The woman was sitting on a pallet next to the back wall. Being closer, he spoke more quietly. "I have a bow, but they have armour. I can kill them if they take their armour off. You must get them to take their armour off. Do you understand? "

  "You mean, yes, you mean complain about it before they take me. Have them take it off so they can enjoy me more. I will try."

  "Yes, you must try, and quickly so that they do not catch me first. Now quiet. I will be in the shadows trying not to breathe. Don't stall, don't fight them. The faster they take their armour off, the faster they will grow arrows. If you wait too long, I may give myself away."

  Raynar moved behind the stairway and as quietly as possible, strung his staff bow to the first knot. He did not need range, but he did need to loose at least two arrows a breath apart. They waited in the dark. Together, yet alone. She was sobbing. His heart was pounding and seemed to be as loud as her sobs.

  The men finally came. Now they were confident there was no one about and were not so stealthy. One stayed by the open door and the other walked to the center of the room to a table and set something down. He fumbled in his clothing, and then there was a spark of a flint, and another, and a candle's light bathed the room in a soft glow. Raynar pushed himself back into the shadow of the stairs and looked into the room from between two of the steps.

  The man with the candle was wearing armour. He turned to the girl on the pallet. She was a girl, barely a woman. He spoke in his halting Danish. "What's your name, girl? Are you of this mill?" A pause. "Answer me!"

  "My name is Bebba. I live on a farm about a mile from here," she replied.

  "What were you doing here, little Bebba?"

  "I came to find the miller's son, Thom. He had not returned to our ... our .... our house after he went looking for his pa." The words were fit between quiet sobs.

  The man at the door asked, "Is the miller a big man with a mop of light hair and a big gray beard?"

  "That is he," Bebba sobbed.

  "He is dead behind the house. There was no one else."

  There was a light wail from the woman, but the man told her to be quiet, and then he continued with his questions. "Are you brain dead girl? We Norse hold the other bank and have ships on the river. You should be away and hiding in the forest." He actually sounded concerned for her safety.

  Sobs. "I was a fool to come."

  "When you got here, did you see a small boat at the dock?" asked the man with the candle.

  "No, the river was empty. There were men on the other bank, but they left. That is when I came out from hiding, just before you caught me."

  The man did not bother switching languages. "Bugger, they have left for the day. We are stuck here until morning, until they come back with the boat. We could cross holding the horses' tails, but it would make for a cold night on the other bank without a roof and soaking wet."

  The man at the door replied, "I'll not leave my armour. We are here for the night."

  "Come inside then, and close the door. The candle light may give us away. Girl, stop sobbing, do you know this house, do you know where they store food?" he asked.

  The man closing the door said, "A smoked ham would go down good right now."

  "Your army took everything, left nothing," she sobbed.

  "They left us you, Bebba. Let's take a look at you." He moved closer to the girl with the candle. She pulled back against the wall. He reached forward with a hand and fumbled with her chest. "Good, she is a woman." He started lifting her skirt, and she pushed it back down with both hands.

  "Now Bebba, this is how it is going to be. You are going to keep us warm tonight. We are going to cover you and take you, the both of us. If you help us, if you are nice to us, then tomorrow you can go back to your mother and still pretend to be a virgin. If you are not nice to us, you will go back to your mother in ripped clothes and covered in bruises. Everyone will know you have been had. It is your choice. Do what a good wife would do, or be beaten into doing it. Stop sobbing, girl. Fucking us will not end your world."

  The man at the door snickered evilly.

  "I - I will, I will be a good wife," Bebba sobbed, "but I will look beaten in any case because your armour will tear at my skin. You take off your armour first, and I then will take off my dress. Promise me that you will be gentle."

  The man at the door said, "You go first while I stand watch."

  The man by the pallet started unhooking his armour and peeling it away from its leather frame. Then the leather, then a shiny white shirt. Then he dropped his armoured belt and peeled down his leggings. "That is for you girl, " he said pointing his stiff cock towards her. "Now it is your turn."

  She slowly pulled off her smock. She was naked underneath. Her skin was lightly tanned, and her breasts were high and full. All her hair was blonde. She was narrow of hip and long of leg.

  He moved towards her. His beard was starting to go grey, as was his hair, all his hair. His shoulders were broad and his arms thick. He had a middle-aged paunch and a very white bum, but his thighs were thick and strong.

  She pulled back from him and could not take her eyes from his cock. She sobbed as he reached for her, and pulled her towards it. "If you moisten it first with your mouth, then it won't hurt so much." He aimed it towards her mouth.

  The man at the door stopped watching outside through the crack, and closed and bolted the door. He turned around and said. "I said I would take the first watch. I like to watch. I bet she has never had one of those in her mouth before." There was a twang and a hiss and an arrow shattered the bridge of his nose and drove him backwards against the door.

  The other man was lightening fast. He rolled naked across the floor picking up his sword as he rolled. Raynar had no time to fully draw the bow before he loosed the shaft. Though the giant bow was but half drawn, the arrow flew true, but it was not well-aimed and it took the man in the stomach.

  He folded forward over the shaft pulling frantically at it, but it was a hunting arrow with barbs. Raynar covered the space between them in three strides and kicked the sword out of his hand. With the second kick he bashed the man's head back against the wall. The man cried out in absolute agony as he slid down the wall.

  There was a loud bang behind him and the girl screamed a warning and Raynar turned to see the man with the arrow through his face coming towards him. The ar
moured man fell on him, and his weight pushed Raynar to the floor.

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  THE HOODSMAN - Killing Kings by Skye Smith

  Chapter 14 - John Returns to Winchester in August 1100

  Raynar woke to a shriek, and despite his stiff back, he rolled out of Mar's bed and strode through the house, picking up the cudgel that was kept beside the stairway door as he stepped over the sill. As soon as he stepped through the door and could see down the staircase, he reached back and put the cudgel back in its place. The staircase was completely blocked by a giant of a man with bushy blond hair and with a Mar hanging from his neck.

  John was home. He dropped his pack, put an arm under Mar's bottom and effortlessly carried her up the stairs. Raynar had no option but to back out of the way up the stairs and through the doorway. There was no getting around John's bulk in a narrow place. He showed Raynar a big grin and hugged him into Mar's back with his free arm.