The Hoodsman - Killing Kings Page 5

  Raynar crested the knoll first and stopped to look down at the dell below. He was right. Hugh and two boys were convincing the sheep to move towards the cavern overhang at the side of the dell. There was another man on the far side dressed in forest green who was helping them.

  Raynar cupped his hands to his mouth and gave a howling call that started out sounding low and then changed pitch higher. He had to give it twice before Hugh looked up. Tucker and John were beside Raynar now, and looking down.

  John said, "I don't see her," and his smile turned to a frown. "We've missed her and she is at the glade by now. I knew I should have stayed at the glade."

  "You knew no such thing, John Smith," replied Tucker.

  Hugh was waving and pointing them to the left. Raynar looked over and saw the sheep that had preceded them over the ridge walking down the slope in the wrong direction. "Come on then, we can herd those ones to the cavern and talk to Hugh." Raynar proved his strange staff-bow once again. The crook at the end meant his reach was long when he worked with sheep. After watching his technique of using his staff, Tucker and John started imitating his moves, and the three spread out around the twenty or so sheep and turned them towards the rest of the herd.

  The temperature was dropping quickly as they reached the herd, and they were glad that the cavern was near. Low heavy clouds were swirling in downdrafts over the knoll that they had been standing on a short time before. Raynar walked directly up to Hugh, took him by the hand and arm and pulled him into a bear hug. "Hello old man. Why aren't you at home with your grandchildren and your dogs?"

  "I love my grandchildren, but I can't stand their mothers," he cackled. "I don't know what is to become of this younger generation. They've got not respect." He turned to the Brother, crossed himself and said, "Welcome, and peace be with you Brother," and then back to Raynar. "Did you think me dying then that you brought a priest? You will know when I am ready to go, because I will have my grandfather's battle axe in one hand and a woman’s tit in the other."

  Raynar made the introductions. "This is Brother Tucker from Repton Abbey, and John Smith from Hathersage. We actually came in search of Leola. She is overdue at the glade, though she knows many ways down and may have arrived there by now. "

  Hugh yelled some instructions at the two boys and they climbed up to some wandering sheep. "Leola left us yesterday, and that is bad news as she should have arrived at the glade on the same day before dark."

  John whimpered, and Raynar held a hand to his chest. "Not to worry yet John, Leola has lived on these peaks all her life. She knows the trails, and she has a weather eye. She will have her pack with her, with warm clothes and cheese. We know where she was headed so we just have to find the trail she took and follow it to find her."

  "I'll help you track her," said the stranger in green as he took long strides towards them. "I am Alan O'Dale, and a forester and a tracker by trade. I've been here two days and I watched Leola when she left. Wait for me while I get my bow and my pack from the cave."

  "You can't leave now," said Hugh pointing to the clouds, "there is weather coming and a good chance of freezing rain".

  "All the more reason to leave, Hugh," said Raynar. "If she has broken an ankle and she is on the trail somewhere, we need to find her before nightfall. I know all the shelters between here and the glade and we have winter cloaks. We are not at risk, but she may be."

  Hugh yelled to Alan’s withdrawing back, "Alan, take some green cheese from the tuck bag, portions for five."

  "Who is Alan, and why is he here?" asked Raynar.

  "He is sworn to my daughter's father-in-law. The lord's youngest son has run away and Alan was sent to fetch him back. He is the best tracker in the Peak Forest. He says that he followed him to Lose Hill but then lost the trail in the loose rock. He has been staying with me and searching a different line each day trying to find the lad's track again. If you ask me, he is waiting here because he doesn't want to admit failure and go home to his lord with no news."

  Alan returned with his gear, and the Brother and John stood up from where they had been resting, and they followed Alan. Hugh waved and wished them Godspeed, and went back to securing his sheep and yelling at his helper boys.

  When they reached the eastern crest of the dell, Allan stopped and crouched to the ground. "This is where she crested. Now we need a sign of which way she went from here. "

  Raynar pointed to a track leading to the right. "That is the trail to the glade. She would have chosen no other."

  Alan nodded and walked slowly along it a hundred paces. "You are right. Here is her print. Damn this wind, it will be hiding her prints as we walk. Keep behind me even when I slow. Her track will be faint enough without your heavy boots."

  "Watch for sink holes along these trails, Alan." cautioned Raynar. "Not just so we don't lose you down one, but also because Leola may have fallen into one."

  They walked three miles and crossed three low ridges following the same trail, and Alan was finding occasional prints. When they reached on the fourth ridge they could hear animal noises and the sound of a sheep in panic. "Look there," said John pointing down and to the south. "Wolves attacking a sheep". John started to wave his hands in hopes of saving the sheep.

  Alan pinned John's arms to his sides. "That sheep is a goner. Let that one keep the wolves busy to give us time to close on them and kill them." He motioned them back behind the ridge, took his bearings, and then motioned them to follow him as he trotted along, with the ridge hiding them from the wolves. When they were about even with the wolves but still upwind, Alan dropped to his knees and crawled to peer over the ridge. "This is about as close as we can get under cover. Two hundred paces to the wolves. Too long for a shot."

  Alan and John backed down the slope so they could stand and string their bows without being seen. Alan’s was a Danish selfbow, John's was a Welsh longbow but looked small compared to him. Alan pointed to John's bow, and asked what the range was. John hunched his shoulders and replied, "I am just a beginner, but Raynar would know. It used to be his." Alan turned to Raynar and exclaimed, "What the Devil!" as he watched a shepherd's crook being bent out of shape and strung to become a monster bow.

  Raynar had it fully bowed on the shortest knot of the bowstring. His arrows were in John's quiver. "Pass me the longest arrows, John, and hand your bow to Alan with some of your arrows." He looked at Alan. "Have you ever shot a Welsh bow? You cannot draw it with your arm like your selfbow. You must step forward and push the bow with your back. Two hundred paces is beyond its accurate range, so wait for my first shot, and then run forward.

  It shouldn't take you more than two shots to figure the angle. It shoots true but the power and speed of the arrow tends to push it high. Now hand your bow and quiver to John. " He looked at his friend. "John. Stand nocked and ready to shoot if the wolves charge us. Aim low so that even if you miss you will at least scare them."

  Raynar waited until the other men had swapped bows and quivers and then started forward on hands and knees over the ridge. He only got ten paces before the wolves spotted him. He stood up, locked the staff end in the dirt and stepped into his bow, then aimed, notched up for the range, and loosed.

  The long arrow made a searing noise in the air. While it was still in flight, Raynar got off another shot, and then paused to see his range. The first arrow took the first wolf in the side at the base of the ribs. The second arrow took the second wolf in the front shoulder. Both were badly hurt and limping in pain, but now they were angry and scared and therefore, very dangerous. He had expected Alan to be sprinting towards the wolves to get a killing shot, but instead Alan was at his shoulder and was pushing down on Raynar's next arrow.

  "Hold!" Alan warned, "those are not wolves, they are costly hunting dogs. See the collars?"

  "It matters not," replied Raynar. "A dog that has tasted livestock lives under a death penalty. So says the law. You are a forester, you know that better than I."

  "Then let me finish them. They
are my lord's dogs. I will do it in his name so there will be no question of right," said Alan. "They are probably too badly hurt to be healed in any case." He walked over to John and swapped back the bows and quivers, and with his own bow walked to within fifty paces of the crouched and snarling beasts.

  He put an arrow into each one's eye. Once they were dead, John raced down the hill with Tucker following him. Raynar stood frozen, watching them run, until Tucker yelled out that the wolves may have Leola.

  Alan was crouched by the dogs cutting out the arrows. Raynar's arrows were set inches into the hides. Again and again he looked back to the ridge and the range they were shot from and breathed a low whistle. He removed the collars and stuffed them into his pack.

  Just beyond the wolves there was a sink hole with a cave under the lip of the rocks. Around the wolves there were two other dead sheep with their throats ripped out. None of them were eaten. "These dogs were not hunting," John announced, "they were in a killing frenzy"

  He shouted down into the sink but there was only his echo in return. He lowered himself over the edge but after a look, realized there was an easier way in, a bit further down the slope, so he pulled himself back up. Brother Tucker was already at the lower end and carefully walking up the sink hole. John nocked an arrow and held it in readiness in case of more dogs. He heard the Brother sob below.

  "What is it?" John asked.

  "Go get Raynar," was the answer, "go get Raynar now".

  The three of them approached Tucker who was leaning on the wall of the sink hole and retching. They moved past him to see what he had seen. It was Leola, or at least the small broken body that used to be Leola. Raynar dropped to his knees beside her and started to wail. John shook open his cloak and tried to cover her nakedness, and wept in frustration when the heavy wool would not unfurl.

  Alan arrived and pulled John out of the way and told him not to cover her yet. He tenderly raised her chin, and then raised her hand. "She is fresh dead," he said, "within hours". He reached his hand down between her legs, but Raynar's hand grabbed his wrist in a murderous grip.

  "Calm yourself Raynar, I mean no disrespect. We need to know how she died." Raynar's grip loosened and he felt gently between her legs. His hand came up bloodied.

  Tucker had himself under control now, though John was standing frozen in shock with the cloak in his hand, and Raynar had his eyes closed and was sobbing gently beside the body.

  Tucker asked, "What do you mean by how she died? The wolves, I mean the dogs."

  "No wolf did this Brother," growled Alan with steel in his voice, to hold back a sob, "she has been tied and abused and brutally raped over many hours, and then strangled before she was left alone." Now he had John and Raynar's absolute attention. There was silence as the words became pictures and the pictures sank in. "Not the dogs," breathed Raynar, "they had collars. The owner of the dogs. The dogs were still here, then so will be the owner. " He moved to stand, but three other men were in his way.

  "Slowly Raynar, and carefully. Those were hunting dogs. He could have a bow." The three with bows moved slowly out of the sink leaving the Brother to cover the body and to kneel in prayer. John spotted the hoof print first. "Shod Dane style. A big hoof. The horse may be fifteen hands. We would have seen a horse first from the ridge."

  "So he must be beyond the next ridge," said Raynar walking out of the hole and striking out towards the ridge.

  "Or in the next sink hole," said Alan. Raynar stopped and ducked down low. Alan moved in front of him studying the ground. He motioned all for silence. He found and followed the freshest horse trail. Within five hundred paces it led them to another sink hole, a larger one. Alan inched forward and peered over the lip. He motioned to them that there was someone there and motioned them downslope to the entrance. The three of them stood in a line at the entrance with arrows drawn.

  "Come out, " Alan yelled, "Come out with your hands where we can see them, and give yourself up."

  Instead there was yell and the sounds of hooves and a horse and rider emerged from the shadows of the sink already moving quickly. Unfortunately for the rider the horse moved in John's direction.

  John had been shoeing horses since he was a baby. He ducked down and rapped his bow hard against the shins of the horse, and then leaped up into the horse's face and came down with his ham fist hard between its eyes. The horse went down like a rock, stunned but not injured. In one fluid movement John's huge hand lifted the rider from the saddle and slammed him to the ground. The rider lay motionless, winded but still alive.

  Alan leaped forward and shielded the body on the ground from John's murderous rage, and from Raynar's drawn arrow. "No, no! Back off. We have no proof yet. He isn't going anywhere."

  "What do you mean no proof? The tracks led us right here," said Raynar.

  "He was there, but so were we. He may have found her just as we did," yelled Alan.

  "You are a brave man to stand between me and my sister's murderer, Alan O'Dale," hissed Raynar. "Make your case."

  "This is the lordling I was sent to fetch. Those were his dogs. This horse is my lord's. My oath to my lord means I must protect this one. Raynar, you can't kill him in anger after the fact even if he is guilty. You could kill him to stop the crime but not after it is finished. My lord would demand a blood settlement of the Moot, and you would be a slave for the rest of your life to make payment. We must take him back, make the case to the folkmoot, and they will execute him. In that way there will be no blood feud."

  Raynar eased the tension from the bow. He knew enough about Knute's in-common law and the power of the Moot to recognize the truth in the words.

  John looked at Raynar and then Alan. "Give him to me. I won't kill him. A man can live a long time with broken legs and a twisted back." He stood up to his full height, and Alan suddenly felt like he was child-sized in comparison.

  "No, John You won't hurt him, but you will help me find out the truth. Raynar, pin his arms. John, you pin his legs." When he was secured, Alan pulled down the struggling lordling's hose and separated his legs. He took a good look and then wiped his hand against the inside of the thigh. He held the hand up. It was bloody.

  "Her blood!" Raynar yelled and released the man's wrists and moved his hands to the man's throat and started to crush it.

  "John, pull Raynar off him!" Alan shouted. "Sit on him until his rage cools."

  John let go of the lordling's ankles and pulled Raynar off him and to the side. "He is right Raynar. It is the business of the Moot now.".

  "His name is Garrick Sweynson, and he has always been a shit. He was born to be hanged," Alan hissed as he tied the man's elbows behind his back with his spare bowstring. "We will load the girl on the horse and lead this one back to his Lord's Moot."

  "No, he goes to the mine's Moot," said Raynar.

  "The lord won't accept the judgment of the mine's folkmoot over this lordling. He must be tried in a lowland court."

  "Well, we have to go by way of the mine anyway. It will be dark before we get there, and this horse needs the porterway."

  The good brother had already bundled the body in a role of the cloak, and he lifted her across the saddle, refusing help. Raynar led the horse, Alan led Garrick, and Tucker led John who was so upset now that he could not see the path in the waning light. They only got as far as the second sink hole before the freezing rain started.

  They sought shelter in the second hole, but it was long dark before the rain stopped.

  "We are here for the night," proclaimed Raynar. "We have lost the light, and the trails will be treacherous covered in these ice pellets. Worse, there will be no early start, not until the ground warms." He looked over at Alan. "Since we are staying, I will go and dress the dead sheep. The glade could use the meat, and the skins."

  "But they are Hugh's sheep," John objected.

  "To Hugh, the loss of a sheep is a cost of doing business, but the waste of a sheep is a sin."

  Luckily Garrick had already made a camp
in the sink hole including some firewood and some peat, and luckily they had brought the winter cloaks along. Tucker who was warm enough in his hooded habit used the girl’s cloak around his legs. They gutted and hung the three sheep. Two of them had unborn lambs, a shepherd's delicacy. Between the lambs and the green cheese, they all ate their fill, including Garrick.

  Garrick was pushed to the back of the cave so that an escape would mean climbing over all of them. He did not speak, and no one wanted to speak to him. No one slept, they just dozed and dreamed. It was a night of howling winds above their head, and eerie mists, and unknown and frightening sounds beyond the sink. Peaks Arse was well named.