Her Dangerous Journey Home

As they entered the yard of the manor, Christina was surprised to see four strangers standing silently just inside the gate. She followed their eyes, all locked on another man conversing with Peter, the smith. Their clothes were clearly homespun, multiple patches on them evidencing long and hard wear. The men’s footwear was similarly in poor repair, with two of the four having lengths of cloth wrapped repeatedly about their shoes to keep them from falling apart. It was clear each was a commoner, and probably from the lower end of that social class at that.

She added her bag to Ziesolf’s burden, approaching Peter as Ziesolf went inside.

“God be with you both.”

“And to you, Master Frederick,” Peter replied as the other man took a step back and lowered his head in silent obeisance.

“Is there a problem here?” Christina asked, gazing at the stranger with a neutral expression.

“No . . . no, none at all, Mi ‘lord!” he exclaimed, his pale face blanching even further.

“These men seek employment,” Peter stated.

“There has been little work available over the winter and they have had a rough go of it keeping home and hearth together for their families. Alan here vows they are good men, who are willing to provide honest work for a bit of coin or food in kind.”

Christina considered Peter’s words. There had been little enough to do over the winter for the men already receiving regular pay from her. Now, with her imminent departure, it seemed highly unlikely additional hands would be needed, especially those who seemed no more than day laborers, at best.

I wish I could do more, she thought, imagining their discouragement of returning home to the hungry and sad faces of their families.  

She started to reach for her purse, hoping the gift of a silver penny each would somewhat allay their wretchedness for at least a day or two.

She paused, then asked without much hope, “Do you have any skills I might find useful?”

“Aye!” Alan’s eyes showed a faint glimmer of hope. “Gilbert was a stonemason’s apprentice for a time and Nicholas is good with beasts, nary a one he meets can resist his ways. I’ve done a bit of thatching in my day, as well. We all have strong backs and won’t give you any trouble, sir. Please.”

The man’s tone was desperate.

As I had feared, Christina thought with a sick feeling forming in her stomach. They have nothing I need, beyond the ability of moving things from here to there.

Out of the corner of her eye, Christina saw one of the other men detach himself from the group and walk toward her. He stopped a few paces before her, bowed clumsily, then straightened as she motioned with her hand for him to rise.

“Pardon me, Mi ‘lord, but have you been training with your sword on Sundays at Westminster green?” he asked.

“Yes, I have frequently visited there over the winter. Why is it that you asked?”

“Why, me and my mates have just been saying that we thought it was you,” he replied.

Christina grew impatient.

Am I now to answer to these ragamuffins as to my daily whereabouts? she thought, determined to bring this diversion to an end.

Before she could speak, however, he said, “We thought it was you watching us.”

Suddenly her mind clicked, her irritation dissipating.

“Watching you? Are you bowmen?” she asked with amazement, the image of a mass of English arrows speeding from the deck of der Greif to transfix a number of terrified Danish pirates suddenly blossoming in her mind.

“Aye, we are, all of us,” Alan resumed speaking for the group. “Godfrey here is the best shot of us all. I think we all would have starved this winter if he hadn’t taken most of the king’s prizes.”

Godfrey blushed and said nothing.

Christina looked from man to man. Each was well-formed, but with a curious overdevelopment of the right side of his upper torso. She could not believe her possible good fortune.

“Alan, meet me on the green at sunrise tomorrow. If your skill with your bows is as you promise, your families need worry no more, as you will be made men.”

Alan struggled to speak past the lump forming in his throat.

“Thank you, Mi ‘lord, thank you! We’ll be there, don’t you worry, sir! With our bows, to be sure!

“Go then,” Christina replied, dismissing the men. “I will see you on the morrow.”

Alan and Godfrey both bowed deeply and backed away from where Christina and Peter stood. They spoke a few excited words to their fellows and then all began backing out of the yard, grinning and jostling each other as they departed.

Before they could leave, however, Christina called out.

“Alan?”

A stricken look appeared on the man’s face as if he feared his good fortune was about to be snatched away.

“Aye, Mi’ lord?”

“Might it be possible to round out your group with a few more men? A total of ten or twelve would do nicely.”

His expression changed to one of relief.

“Aye!” he shouted and, in a few seconds, they turned up the street and were gone.

“Thank you,” Peter remarked. “As I said, I believe them to be honest men. You have done a generous thing here, Master Frederick.”

“God favors those who do charitable acts,” Christina replied, flashing the smith a merry little wink. “If their ability as archers is as skilled as those I observed on the green, he is about to reward me several times over.”

The butts were already emplaced when Christina arrived at Westminster the next day, securing Pearl’s bridle to the rail as she had done so many times before. She saw a dozen men huddling closely together against the chilled wind, the five she had met the day prior as well as seven she did not know. Each carried a longbow in his hand, several lengthier even than the men who held them. They busied themselves stringing their bows as she neared.

By the time she was within hailing distance, they were already prepared to nock their first arrow.

“Good day to you fellows,” she remarked loudly to ensure she was heard over the gusting wind.

“God be with you, Mi ‘lord,” Alan replied, the other men murmuring their agreement. “Shall we shoot now?”

Good, she thought, best to be right at it than to waste time talking.

Alan stepped a few paces away from the other men and stuck five arrows into the mushy soil beside his right foot, holding a sixth at the ready in his right hand. He looked at Christina for a second before pointing his bow in his extended left hand straight toward the nearest target, turning his head in the same direction. With a smooth, powerful movement, he drew his bowstring back with his first two fingers until the tail of the arrow was just touching the corner of his mouth, directly under his aiming eye. He adjusted his weight slightly on his rear foot and let fly at the first target, his arrow splitting the willow stave neatly before penetrating solidly into the butt.

Christina’s jaw dropped.

He neither hesitated to survey his first shot, nor celebrate its excellence. Instead, he snatched his next arrow neatly and repeated his movements, only this time raising his left hand a few degrees to aim at the next target in line. He released his arrow, which hit the piece of cloth attached to the butt squarely only an instant prior to the next arrow speeding downrange. The final two arrows were already aloft before the two prior had found their mark.

Sweet Mary, mother of mercy! Christina exclaimed softly under her breath. In less than a minute, five men would have died before Alan’s bow, with no sound to mark their passing beyond the thwack of the bowstring and rushing sound of his speeding arrow! If the others prove a fraction of Alan’s worth, der Greif will carry a surprise the likes of which these varlets of the North have never seen!

Christina was not disappointed. Each archer took his turn, sending his arrows toward the targets with a similar rate of fire. There were a couple of misses at the final target, but any foe unlucky enough to be at a hundred and fifty yards or less would have been skewered without exception. Now, there was only Godfrey remaining to take his turn.

Unlike the others, he stuck eleven arrows into the soil beside him. Christina noticed his arrows appeared somewhat different than those who had taken a turn before him.

“We were using flight arrows for the further targets. These were long, light, and winged with narrower feathers to travel longer distances more easily. His are sheaf arrows, with broad, barbed points, designed to kill rather than to look pretty. Watch this now, Mi ‘lord,” Alan said.

The speed of Godfrey’s bow was astounding. He worked up the range of target, before sighting back down again. Although Christina had not counted the seconds as she intended, so focused was she on observing the man’s skill, the elapsed time could not have been more than a single minute. More importantly, each arrow had found its mark.

Godfrey returned to his fellows, who clapped him on the back and murmured words of congratulations. They then turned and looked toward Christina, expressions of eagerness, uncertainty, and trepidation spread equally among the lot.

She stood frozen, in sharp contrast to her mind that worked feverishly.

I need these men. They will surely guarantee us victory against the pirates!

She finally managed to say, “Do you know who I am?”

The men looked at each other in apparent confusion.

After a few seconds, Alan replied, “Sir Frederick the German, Mi ‘lord.”

“Is that what the local people call me?” Christina exclaimed, digressing for a moment before continuing. “Well, Sir Frederick, at least, Sir Frederick Kohl, to be more exact. This day you have my word as a knight that I do have work for you. That is, if you agree to it.”

“For all of us, Mi ‘lord?” one of the men asked with a quaver in his voice.

He had been one of the men whose furthest arrow had strayed from hitting the cloth.

“Aye, all of you,” Christina answered, perceiving the look of relief on the archer’s face. “In two weeks, my ship will depart London, sailing to the Baltic Sea and the north German coast. We will join a fleet seeking to hunt out several pirate vessels that plague the waters there. I confess it will not be easy, as these brigands are wily, have fast ships, and know the coastline like no others. They are also merciless, and will not hesitate to kill you before you have the pleasure of ending their misbegotten lives. I believe we will be gone no more six months but, it is the sea, so who knows?”

“Six months, from our families, sir?” another of the archers asked hesitantly.

“If the king had required us, we would have been freezing our ballocks off chasing the Scots in the north for just as long or longer,” Godfrey muttered.

“At least it will be the summer now. You can do without a belly-warmer, Will!”

“And the pay, Mi ‘lord?” asked Alan, changing the subject.

“Will you consent to being your men’s captain, Alan?” Christina asked.

Alan gazed back at the group of bowmen. They looked at each other for a second before voicing a unanimous chorus of “ayes.”

“I guess so,” Alan chuckled.

“Well, that will be six pence for you each day between now and when we sail. Three for everyone else, except four for Godfrey. I will pay half now, and half when you show up at dockside. At that time, I will also advance you two months’ pay for while you are at sea. Ensure your wives are there, so your families will want for nothing while you are away. Alan, you will be responsible for ensuring every man comes with extra staves, bowstrings, and side weapons. Are we in agreement?”

Again, Alan looked to the men who had just acknowledged him as their leader. They nodded vigorously; grins spread across their mouths revealing a varying number of teeth.

“I guess we belong to you, Sir Frederick. And arrows?” he asked.

“Let me know when you have made arrangements. I will send a cart to your fletcher to fetch them, as well as to render payment. Any other questions?”

The men voiced nothing further. Christina provided directions to Der Greif’s moorage and counted out the archers’ advancements, handing them to Alan for further disbursement before bidding them farewell and beginning to cross the field back to where Pearl was tethered. After a few paces, she stopped and took a longing glance back at the Palace of Westminster.

If only Cecily would appear. Seeing her, even from a distance would make my happiness with this day complete.

There was no movement, however, other than that of the sentries posted at the gate. Certainly not a flash of crimson hair tousling in the wind. Christina chided herself to be content with what fortune had already provided her. She walked the rest of the way with a spring in her step.