Chapter 4: The Channel

True to his word, Swein rouses us all at first light and we break our night fast upon fresh bread and a sweet, mild, crumbly cheese that we all delight in the flavour of. As one of his elder brothers reports, that their city has so many visitors from different parts of the country, with wide preferences in their feasting, that the inn was continually challenged to find foods that satisfied them all, and our hosts gloried in every smile of gratification received for making that effort worthwhile.

All the party agree that The Willow Staff was always going to be their first port of call if ever they passed this way again, whether on pilgrimage or no. The cheerful brother, who waved us a fond farewell, also refused all offers of payment, both for our repast and our chambers, explaining that we were his young brother Swein’s honoured guests and, besides, with less visitors during harvest time, the empty chambers were spare and the food we consumed would otherwise spoil.

When Lady Elinor, Swein and I were waiting outside my parents’ inn and ready to mount up and ride to the river, my father walks his mount out of the inn’s stables. Diagonally across his chest is a bow string, but I could hardly see the body of the bow it was clearly attached to. I have a professional curiosity in any such variations of the subject of my craft, which I found to my pleasure over the last five years was truly my true calling.

“Father, what bow are you carrying?”

“Ah, when Alwen proposed this pilgrimage trip to Canterbury, I thought about having adequate protection on the road. I have my sword, but a born archer likes to have something more far-reaching to hand to fend off any potential attack. I saw the Saracens on Crusade using bows from horseback, and they used these short, light, whippy bows that were very effective at close range whilst ahorse.”

“I use a horse most of the time in my travels these days,” I say, “and a longbow is a clear disadvantage when mounted.”

“Aye, son, one of our Welch longbows at 72 inches long would be clumsy to move around the horse’s head and likely to frighten the horse into a gallop and the rider lose control. So I experimented for a few months and this bow has proved most worthy of the trip and the effort in experimentation. The arrows used are three inches shorter than the standard ones we use, but I can still use the longer ones if I run out of the special ones I have made. It is less ornate than the Saracen weapons that I’ve seen afore, but is, I think, just as effective as their best.”

“When we get time,” I say, “I will have to try it out and then perhaps see if I can make one myself using what you have learned from the trials you’ve carried out.”

We laugh at his recollections of some of his failed attempts to make this bow. We often make short bows and cut down arrows for children to practise on, there is always a market for such toys, but those are designed to be greatly underpowered and not true weapons. Further, with his shire reeve duties, the pressures of family life and my graduation under his guidance to journeyman longbow smith, he spends less time in the workshop than he used to, so this experiment was not only a task to concentrate his mind on, but was a joyful return to his trade and calling.

Our ride to the port is uneventful and we soon stow all our horses on board, feed, water and settle them down, although that deck was more cramped with eight horses muffled and quiet than it was afore with but four mounts acleated. Alain of the Esquires assures me they have plenty of feed for a week if necessary, but that we might have more trouble in is keeping the deck swept of their muck! I notice that Lady Elinor must have left word with Wulfstan about the Esquires’ raiments before we left the port, as they are now redressed, much less clerically, and mostly in what appears to be old sailors’ clothes!

“We have an hour or more before the tide turns,” Wulfstan says, “and hiding here in this port we have lain undiscovered and expect to slip into the Estuary unnoticed by any King’s ship that may be prowling the lanes for our scent. Come, Swein, after all your long leave ashore, let’s get ye to work and ready this ship to launch upon the coming tide.”

Before ere long we are heading out into open water of the side river mouth and I get a chance to listen and speak quietly with my old friend Hugh, as we lean companionably over the bulwark close to the shuffling horses.

“Well, old friend, we are on another adventure sailing into the unknown,” Hugh grins. He has one of those smiles that, whatever scrapes he got himself into in the past, he could get away with whatever mischief he’d caused with simply a smile. I used to envy him that at one time, long ago, but once we became firm friends, his skill at avoiding blame or censure was never a problem of conflict betwixt us. “If I don’t survive this, Rob, you might have to tell Mary Margaret to forget all about me.”

Mary Margaret was the same age as us and had always lived two cottages down from Hugh’s widowed mother on Oaklea Green. We three particularly played together once Hugh and I became fast friends. Mary Margaret and I shared one thing in common, we were both saved from drowning by Hugh’s skill in the water. I was taught to swim by Hugh, who was always able to swim well, it came naturally to him and he could float effortlessly, while I even now have to tread water furiously to keep my head out of the water. Maybe my bones are heavier than his, sturdy built though he be. Mary Margaret cannot swim at all, she was never given a chance to learn, as the girls were always told to keep well away from deep water as well as preserve their modesty of dress.

Down by the water mill, close to the water wheel, there be a stone wall built, to keep animals, children and careless folk from falling into the leet close to where the current is fast and to be sucked under the turning wheel would be fatal to any living creature bigger than a mouse. Children, especially those of a nature where showing off is high jinks, would be dared to walk along the top of that wall and Hugh would do it at the drop of a hat. Hugh has a low centre of gravity, though his body be long, his legs are so short, that he found it easy to balance. I tried to do it twice or thrice and found the exercise plainly fully difficult and clumsy, whilst Hugh would dance, jump and even spin around on his toes and never risk falling off, eyes closed or not.

So one day Mary Margaret tried to walk on the wall and within a handful of stuttering steps, she fell into the water. Hugh didn’t hesitate. He dived in and, being the strong swimmer he is, he dragged her upstream and out of the water before anyone else could even react. Other than coughing up a mouthful or two of stream water, Mary Margaret was fine. But from that point on, she was devoted to Hugh as a solid friend.

So, when Mary Margaret began to grow into womanhood, Hugh’s feelings for her grew with them and he asked her to marry him, in fact several times, actually, because she kept turning him down, saying she was not ready to marry anyone, nor was she willing to befriend anyone more than she would befriend any other, nor prepared to be promised in matrimony to anyone of our acquaintance. She was turning into one of the most attractive of the village girls of our circle; but it appeared that she was not playing any games with us, as she was consistent in her responses to reject every other suitor, yet she still remained firm friends with Hugh and I; affectionate, pleased to seek and be in our company, but no nearer than that in display of her feelings toward us.

While I liked Mary Margaret a lot, the sweet creature that she is, I never sought to suit her, both because of my friendship with Hugh, knowing his exclusive desires for her, and my ill-fated infatuation with the Lady Elinor, which, it appears by this present reacquaintance, be agnawing at me anew, despite my long knightly vigil that I hoped would break the spine of any longing for a deeper friendship with the Lady that could only break my heart into more shards than it was already.

“Mary Margaret will not forget you that easily, I’m sure, Hugh,” I reply, “and any talk of you not making it through to your eventual demise as a wizened old parish alms benefactor, carries little weight. After all, my friend, have we not already come through many dangers without a scratch?”

“Aye, Rob, ‘tis true right enough, but that was really before I had any future other than as a humble serf, working my assigned strips when I could be working others’ fields for next to nothing in my purse at the end of each week. Before your father took an interest in us sorry band of brother and sister bastards, I could see no future, I really had no future to look forward to. Sir William is indeed a true knight, who his men would follow to hell, knowing that he would kick Satan himself to get his men out of the flames before strolling out unharmed himself.”

“Aye!” I laugh, “My father is one of those finest of men whose mould was broken in the firing. There will never be another man anything like him.”

Hugh puts his hand on my arm. “There is such a man, or there will be when that man realises his true worth.”

“Aye? And who be that?”

“You, Rob, you are like a bough hewn from the same tree, brave, honest, selfless and the best friend any man or Lady for that matter could wish to have for life.”

“Stop blowing smoke in my eyes, Hugh, you’ll have them watering like a cascade in a moment.”

“Rob, when are you going to realise how good a man ye are? I cannot hold thee a grudge, but methinks it might be her desire for you that is stopping Mary Margaret from accepting court from any other man, either in or without the village of Oaklea.”

“What? That is rubbish, Hugh, and in your heart you know it. Mary Margaret is the most straight forward girl I know. If she wanted me or anyone above all others, she would have forced her ‘would-be’ into a barn corner and told him to his face long before now and made sure he did something about it, whether he had made the first move on her or not. And I haven’t made any such move because I know soonest or latest, she will choose thee as her one true mate.”

Even I cannot confide in my best friend that only one woman outside my adopted mother, who raised me as her own, and my two dear sweet half-brother and half-sister, beats within my heart.

“I thought that when I earned the return of my endorsed indentures in the Smithy, back in the Spring, that with me sticking fast with the smithying and was now free of bonded apprenticeship and had become a journeyman blacksmith at last, that she would look upon me as a man with a promising future, one who could provide comfort for her in marriage forever, but she turned me down flat once again.”

“How many times does that make?” I ask, “Three?”

“Nay, four times she has responded with a no,” he says sadly, then through gritted teeth, “and I do not feel so inclined to be disappointed by a full handful of her refusals should I be foolish enough to ask for her hand again.”

“So here you are, reckless enough to volunteer for unknown adventures across the briney seas as fit penance for your misspent pilgrimage to the centre of Christ’s church in England. The Lord, He may have permitted you to claim that pot of silver, but he is charging you for your failure in faith with a trip in which you may well have to fight with sharp steel to succeed.”

“And all I have is the dagger that I cut my bread and bacon with, made blade and handle at the forge by my own hand! But honestly, Rob, I am prepared to follow this adventure through to the end, how ever fateful it ends. At one time I had not a single care about ever having a wish of settling down. Through my friendship with you, your father noticed me and mitigated not only my situation, but all those of our lowly class of misfit bastards, born out of wedlock through a cruel dealing of fate. Only after that generous gesture, did I desire a future and a family of my own that demonstrated even half as much devotion and love as evident in your own family.”

“So, are you giving up on Mary Margaret?” I ask, looking at him sideways, “because I could always change my mind, you know. She does have a nice dowry coming...”

“Aye, that she does, but you know that makes little difference to me, as it is what I feel about her in my heart and mind that keeps me from looking elsewhere. And that is why I know you will never commit as rival to Mary Margaret, because your heart is already so full of the Lady Elinor.”