Chapter 3

Robert the Hunter had spent a great many cold nights in his life before, hiding in the trees in wait for his prey, but none of these efforts had obtained results like this. He thought at first that it was lanterns that he saw in the dark gloom approaching the banks of the ford coming from the estate of the Knights. But as the lights drew closer the odder and more ghostly they appeared, casting a pale green glow that more than suggested unearthly causes, and nothing for the eyes of a good Christian soul!

The former poacher was admittedly disconcerted but he was not a spiritual man. He did not fear the workings of God or the terrors of his unholy adversary Satan, whose minions those ghostly lights much appeared to be. Countless hours of prayer had not saved the lives of his wife and their stillborn child, nor had he ever witnessed anything of the supernatural even in the deepest and darkest haunts of the forest, the former sacred groves of the pagan druid priests that once ruled this land long before the coming of the Romans and then later the Saxons and Normans.

He held his perch high in the tree and looked down towards the ford where the ghostly shimmering lights now held still, as if waiting in terrible unearthly judgment over the lands of the living. Despite the disconcerting visions of the inhabitants of hell or their minions, Robert thought again to the words of the slightly simple and superstitious cobbler back in the village, of his fearful warnings of the pale apparitions that guarded these lands near the fens and the coast. There were no ghosts, except for painful memories, in his home forest, and now Robert was increasingly certain that while these creatures might indeed be of evil bent, their composition was entirely mortal of nature. Villains in the service of Satan perhaps, but of human birth ... regardless of the fate of their mortal souls.

Increasingly determined, he carefully climbed down the tree he had hidden himself up into and crept in the darkness behind the small shrubs that lined the shallow stream until he reached a vantage point to more carefully examine his quarry. Carefully down wind, the still winter breeze covered over any sounds the former poacher might have made in the snow and concealed any accidental movement of the bushes he was crawling behind. He was used to moving quickly but cautiously, even upon snow covered ground and even had the night been still and quiet he was entirely certain that his passage would have remained unnoticed. The wind also helped carry the voices, for now he was entirely certain that his foes were mortal men, mostly likely the knights of St. Matthew, as their glowing forms had quite originated from that nearby manor house.

As for their ghostly pale glowing armor, which was of a faint green persistent glow that covered their helms and parts of their armor, in much of the likeness of a pale skeletal wraith and the former poacher had seen and smelt this likeness before. There was a lichen moss that grew in the damper areas of the forest and perhaps also near here in the fens, and if the plants were crushed and smeared across an object it would emit a faint phosphorescent glow for several hours. Disconcerting yes, but hardly supernatural.

The hunter now had something of the mark of his foes that they indeed indulged in secret nefarious deeds by night trusting to a clever use of this moss juice to frighten anyone on their lands or in the area of their travels, causing them to flee as if the very nightmares from hell were riding these lands. Clever, admittedly, but this just confirmed that these gentlemen were up to no acts of Christian kindness this night and that evil rode with them at every step.

With the pale light illuminating their forms, Robert could have easily dispatched a few well aimed arrows from the darkness and played a long game of cat and mouse hiding in the darkness, slowly taking each of the villains in turn, but he wanted, and really needed something of proof to the take to his Earl. Varlets or not, these knights were alleged to be well respected in this Shire, apparently leading quiet lives of reflection since their long years of combat in the holy land. Almost certainly this act of piety was just a screen, a dark curtain to hide the villainy of more secretive lives. Robert knew that he must have proof, solid and incontrovertible evidence to give to the very hands of the Earl, so that it would be his judgment that would seal their fates.

While the former poacher could hear the whinnying of the horses, unhappy about another night riding out from their warm stables and into the cold, the knights themselves had little to say to each other, but they seemed impatient. Clearly they were waiting for someone, perhaps their partner in crime – most likely the wicked merchant and assassin Matthew, whose steading lay just on the other side of the ford, but a few minutes ride away. Waiting in silence in the chill of the winter's night, the men all waited in growing impatience until a short time later another light, a more conventional lantern this time, appeared from Matthew's lands and shortly crossed over the ford to join his fellow conspirators.

With the light of Matthew's lantern now close at hand, Robert thought that this sudden glare would for a few moments disturb the night vision of the assemblage, giving him an opportunity to creep unseen yet a little closer, to another bit of brush not twenty paces away from the gathered company. This hazardous route was swiftly and safely accomplished and now he could quite plainly hear what the wicked assassin and the leader of the knights, probably the noted Robert d'Arcy himself were discussing. D'Arcy's voice was especially difficult to hear as his head remained covered by his steel helmet and his voice was quite in low in tone, more of a rumble as if his words were not meant to carry to the rest of the assembled armsmen.

"You took your dear sweet time Matthew." The armored leader softly growled in some considerable annoyance. "We were going to give you at most another glass before heading to the cove to await the ship. Your folk have already given us enough problems and now you are endangering the entire business. You took a King's man right on a royal roadway ... even the little bastard can't ignore that!"

"What had to be done was done, Sir d'Arcy. I received your warning about the traitor and he had to be silenced before he could speak with the Earl and offer King's evidence against us. It was poor luck indeed though that not a few minutes later both the royal messenger and one of the Earl's own men arrived nearly together from opposite points of the road, and well before the blood pool had been cleaned away and the body safely hidden where it would never be found. I didn't fancy the odds at two to one if they discovered me, so I took them both clean with a pair of shots. The deed was done and the traitor lies under the fens now, lost in the bogs and none of the King's or Earl's men shall ever find a trace of him!"

"Still, the soldiers will come and search everywhere ... and perhaps even find the storage in the barn. This was an unnecessary danger that makes us doubt your judgment."

"True, the Earl must indeed act, and probably soon, now that the snow has stopped and his scouts can take to the road, but I've prepared a suitable villain for them. They will search for an assassin, so we will provide them with one ... and at exactly the same place. There is another disaffected young man in our employ who worked at the docks, an assistant to the tariff master in Colchester who provides us with our prey for wrecking. He had learned of our business and his master determined that just silver alone would not permanently still his tongue. He has been already taken and bound tight and stowed now down in my cellar. When the soldiers come down the coastal road from Keybridge tomorrow, which they likely shall, I shall speed another crossbow towards them and then unleash our victim towards them to be dispatched by them with either arrow, bolt or sword. In preparation, I shall give him an elixir that an alchemist in Maldun has provided me that will quite addle his wits and yet fill him with bezerker rage, like as a madman. A suitable crossbow will be found near him and his sorrowful former master will relate a tale of madness and rage against the crown to the investigators, and soon all will be forgotten. Suitable is this not?"

"Perhaps so, but no other unfortunate accidents must ever occur near here again. If we have any other possibly loose wagging tongues among your wrecking crew then perhaps they should also be silenced after tonight's work, once the ship, Galilee's Shore, has been grounded and the cargo taken to the manor and secured."

"Aye, the shipwreck and smuggling business here has been too good lately and the sea captains at Harwick, Maldun and Colchester have already become alarmed that too many of their friends have been lost to the sea this year without a trace. A rest until spring is perhaps warranted, and perhaps there are indeed a few tongues that might become a bit fidgety once they've been paid off. Aye, I can do without a few of my greedier junior men, assuming you can handle the bloody work, and it is done quiet and under cover of darkness, away from the others."

"Good. A few more lives bleeding into the cove tonight won't bother me none, and might make us all sleep more soundly at night. This last cargo will be enough to make our promised delivery and more, to arm near to half of the men of the marches of the north and west, should the new King move to seize any lands from his nobles."

"Aye, he's a nasty little toad of a bastard, and fully driven by the furies as his father and brothers, and with the very temper of Satan himself. The lords of the land have grown fat and strong during the long absences of his late brother, and King John's hand is now weak and very short of ready coin. Even now a few of the greater lords think that their own head might look better than his wearing the crown, or perhaps they prefer his nephew, Arthur of Brittany seated upon the throne. Mark my words, the moment the King has trouble again in Normandy or France and his army sails across the channel, his yoke here will be weak indeed, and perhaps break!"

"True words spoken, my mercenary friend. Even if their noble bellies turn weak and shy away from their planned treason, the wild bandit lords of Wales and Scotland will pay for our plundered steel nearly as richly, so no loss shall come to us. With uncertainty comes danger, but also great reward. We shall both swim in sacks of gold and silver, enough even for a Duke's ransom. But come, our treasure await us, in blood and spoils gathered from the shores this night!"

With this the commander, undoubtedly Sir Robert himself, ordered his men to ride forth to the cove, which seemed to be to the southeast, along Blackwater estuary. This entire area was a known haunt of wreckers that sought to lure ships avoiding the shallow dangers of the marshes of the coast or the nearby Northy and Osey Islands, and trick them into shipwrecking themselves upon those very shores, and to the mercies of waiting bandits.

As the riders disappeared into the darkness, Robert ran back to where his horse was secured, far enough away that any sounds it might have made would not have been heard by the rogue merchant and knights, and he lost several minutes before he could begin the chase after them, but he had no fear at all of losing them. True there was virtually no moon or starlight tonight, with the winter clouds hanging heavy and low in the sky, but the knight's heavy warhorses would leave deep tracks in the foot thick snow, and would make the tracking simple, even for the most untrained scout.

He followed the tracks relatively slowly and not at a gallop to make up for the lost time. His prey would not be riding far, probably but a half hour or so away at most to reach their small cove, near where the Blackwater Estuary widened as it emptied into the sea. The former poacher was cautious in his pursuit, suspecting that the knights or the henchmen of the wicked merchant would have stationed a guard behind them. Nearing the coastal road, he held up his horse and dismounted, to more carefully and quietly make a circuitous crossing of the roadway. This was the logical place for a guard to be stationed, he suspected; to place a hidden watcher to carefully make certain that the road in all directions was free from the Earl's scouts or the King's soldiers, or that no curious traveler had followed the ghostly light of the knights, rather than fleeing in terror instead.

Robert's caution was well rewarded. Approaching the coastal roadway slowly and carefully under cover, he spotted the guard just a bit further up the road east, right next to the trail that the mounted men had taken, still heading southeast direct towards the coast. This guardian would not be difficult to bypass safely, and he returned to claim his mount but he remaining on foot, guiding his borrowed jittery and quite chilled horse on foot a good quarter mile west, to make a careful secret, unnoticed crossing of the roadway. He then guided his increasingly unhappy mount further on foot through about another quarter mile of frozen fenland until he reached more solid ground along the banks of the estuary.

Here, in thicket of trees that provided excellent cover from both the estuary and the upper roadway, Robert tightly secured the reins of his horse and tried to comfort the miserable beast. The trees and thick brush here quite reduced the effect of the cold northern wind, and the animal would be slightly warmer now while it waited. Knowing the caution of the smugglers, other guards would likely be stationed both up and down the estuary from their small hidden cove, which was more than likely nothing much more than a place where some small river or stream flowed down to meet the Blackwater. Taking the route of staying on the bank of the estuary any further east would be too open and visible to detection, he reasoned, and with a few minor discontents himself, he returned to the partial cover of the fens. Used the limited tree and brush cover the best he could, he then made his passage slowly and carefully east, to find a hidden vantage point of his own where he could espy the doings of the knights and their crew of smugglers and wreckers.

Moving unhurriedly and cautiously, and often having to creep along on his hands and knees on the frozen swampy ground to remain concealed, it might have taken the former poacher a full three-quarters of an hour to finally make his way to a small hill on the western side of the tiny cove where he at last located the knights and the merchant Matthew, but now they were not alone. A small shallow draft merchant ship, undoubtedly the previously mentioned Galilee's Shore, had driven itself as deeply up onto the shore as it could manage, and a shore party of about a dozen men and lads was unloading a great many heavy wooden crates of cargo from the ship, aided by the ship's crew. A few torches had been lit to assist in the unloading on this extremely dark and uncomfortable night, but the light they offered was meager. The gloom did reveal that three horse drawn heavy wagons were receiving this weighty cargo, and that the knights, about half still mounted, had remained close by to guard their smuggled treasure.

There was no shipwrecking done here tonight. The ship's captain had been paid to land his smuggled secret cargo here on this remote shore far away from unfriendly eyes, or the agents of the King. From the language that some of the crew used in their personal discussions onboard the ship, Robert guessed that the ship, or its crew had come from the Low Countries. This fit his suspicions well that the cargo contained arms and armor, as the smiths of Flanders were said to be most skilled and cunning in this craft, and their war goods were highly valued and prized by all that could afford them.

As the very last crate was unloaded from the ship, and the ship's captain was beaming with pleasure as he examined a fat heavy pouch of gold clutched in his hands, he now discovered that there were indeed many risks in smuggling, and that often there is no honor amongst thieves.

With a loud whistle from Sir d'Arcy, the knights drew their crossbows and swords, and the wrecker crew drew their daggers, and in but a matter of a few bloody minutes the captain and his entire crew of Galilee's Shore were lying dead upon its deck, or bleeding their lives away onto the fetid mud of the estuary. One lively and alert young lad nearly made his escape, leaping overboard and into the frigid waters, but a volley of crossbow bolts ringed his position in the water and a loud cry emitted forth in the darkness and then the murky waters were still. But yet still two more last victims remained to be disposed of.

Laughing at the capture of their prizes, several of the wrecker gang emerged at length from below deck bearing a pair of struggling prizes, which appeared to the wife of the murdered ship's captain and a younger lass, perhaps her daughter or the ships cook. The men hooted with approval at the sight of this unexpected treasure and in but a moment or two with the aid of some sharp pocket knives, the women were stripped and thrown to the cold muddy ground in preparation for some genial sport, but Sir d'Arcy, with the assistance of his armored knights abruptly intervened.

It was no particular kindness that the noble lord intended for the unfortunate lovelies, instead with his own dagger, he swiftly and rather callously cut each of their throats. Robert noted at once that this murder weapon was a rather remarkable and princely blade that sparked with gemstones all down the length of the hilt and pommel. It was indeed a blade worthy of a Saracen nobleman, or even precious enough to have been a gift from the hand of Saladin, or the very King of Jerusalem himself, King Amalric II. A prize from the crusades, most undoubtedly.

While the last of the crates were loaded onto the heavy wagons and the last of the minor loot was plundered from the ship, the merchant Matthew selected a half dozen of his most trusted men to form up a prize crew to man the ship and take it to Maldun, once it was freed from the mud with the next high tide. The rest of his motley crew was ordered to accompany the wagons to the manor, from whence there they would be paid off for the season.

"Aye, ye lazy wharf rats, one last good haul up to shore than then ye'll will get what's coming to you!" Matthew laughed. Remembering the discussion the smuggling leaders had held at the ford, Robert had no doubts at all at what was going to befall these extra idle tongues, once the cargo was at last unloaded.

Returning back up the estuary, Robert now felt that he could risk taking the much swifter and direct route down the shoreline, rather than enduring another trudge through the icy frozen fenlands. The hidden guards should be gone now, all returning to join their fellows at the manor house, for the unloading and the final distribution of wages. With the path ahead of him indeed now clear, he could make good swift passage down to where he left his horse. He then nearly at once also made a most unexpected and fateful discovery. At the edge of the water he found the wounded and exhausted, but still living body of the young lad he'd seen dive off of the ship!

Of the near dozen or so bolts and smaller quarrels that had been fired at him, but a single one had stuck, and in a relatively harmless and non-vital area, namely the lad's right buttock. The wound wasn't especially deep either, the small bolt having sunk into the flesh by about only two inches, but the lad would walk gingerly for awhile as he healed, and probably sit but little with any comfort.

Bending down to more closely examine the wounded and seemingly unconscious lad, it was only the former poacher's keen night vision and quick instincts that saved him from the lad's unexpected and savage knife thrust. A less careful man might indeed have fallen into this trap, suffering a probably fatal belly wound, but the thrust was just barely avoided.

"Be careful with that pig sticker lad, or you'll do a good Samaritan like me most ill indeed!" Robert laughed while stepping back a foot or two, and then he held out his hands widely to show the suspicious boy that he was unarmed.

"Come to finish me, like you've done for all of the others? You'll not find me a meek lamb, ready for the slaughter!" The wounded lad promised.

"Peace boy! I mean you no ill. I serve the Earl fitzHenry and I am here this night doing his bidding. True, I saw the smugglers on the shore and witnessed how your crew was taken, and most mercilessly so, but before morning my report shall be spoken to the Earl's own ears, and your own lips may so speak to him as well, should you desire some vengeance by assisting in my lords good justice."

"You bear no weapons? How then do you serve your lord?" The lad enquired, for he did not even see a belt knife on this dark sinister figure that had darted and evaded his quickest thrust faster than any springing rabbit could have evaded him.

"I am the Earl's scout, perhaps soon to be the trusted hunter to the King himself, but that is for the future. Tonight, I lurk and creep in these battered and worn dark clothes that my eyes might see from the shadows so that my mouth might speak wiser counsel. My lord has been seeking these smugglers and wreckers, and now he shall know where to find them and how to best deal with them soon. Shall you enjoy your revenge for your injury, or shall I leave you here as a wounded herring to be left to the sea? Take my hand in peace lad, or swim yourself off to friendlier shores for the hour grows late and my remaining time tonight is needful!"

With a prayer on his lips, the suspicious lad accepted the hand of the still shadowy and increasingly mysterious figure, and trusted to providence and his luck once again, only relaxing his guard in full once his baffling benefactor, so named Robert the Hunter, had drawn the bolt from his embarrassing wound and applied a bit of torn bandage into it to reduce the bleeding.

"Aye, that will do to plug the wound for now, for now we must ride and with swiftness. Lay if you can across the front of my saddle, upon your belly. It will be greatly uncomfortable true, but riding behind me on my horse might force the bandage into too deeply and cause wound or blood fever. It looks clean enough for now, but by morning it can be cleaned and sewn up for right. If the fever doesn't take you, you should be entirely mended by spring."

With a lifting arm to assist him, the lad was drawn up and over the saddle, and a moment later the hunter was himself mounted, and together they rode back across over the coast road, and towards the knight's manor. Robert was nearly positive that this was where the cargo would be taken to and he had hoped to beat the heavily laden slow moving wagons to the estate, but his delay in rescuing the young sailor had cost him time. True, he still reached the large barn of the manor house before the arriving knights and wrecker men, but already he could hear the approaching sounds of the wagons and the click of the mounted men's armor as they rode nearer.

Tempting fate, Robert risked one quick look inside the barn, but he saw nothing much of interest. The great warhorses were not kept here, but in the stables next door. Instead, this immense barn apparently held little other than mounds of hay, quite covering the floor entirely, to a minimum of three or four feet. Puzzled and concerned, he nevertheless felt that it was too risky to stay and search any further. In fact, he had just made it back to the cover of a small orchard grove of trees a bit to the northwest when the first outriders arrived at the barn and made it ready to receive the wagons and the knights who arrived a few minutes later.

Now at some distance from the manor house and the open barn, he was not quite at a suitable angle to see inside much past the doorway. The wagons were starting to be unloaded, but Robert was still none too sure at all at where the crates were being taken to with an exactness. The lad, with his younger eyes, thought he could see straw and hay being moved around, but not much else. Still, this was enough to be certain that the looted armor and weapons were being stored somewhere inside, perhaps under the hay. This would be sufficient enough evidence to warn the Earl.

When the unloading was completed, the half dozen or so wreckers were assembled for their pay, but instead receiving their silver, as expected, they instead received cold hard steel. Each of the men was run through by the knight's swords and the bodies were then gathered up onto one of the waiting wagons and hauled off. The teamsters were apparently all well-trusted men and they received their wages in good coin and without disturbance.

The knights dispersed to their barracks, next to their semi-monastic chapter house of St. Matthew, and the remainder of the wreckers bedded down for the night in the barn, probably settling in amidst the straw. Just to satisfy his curiosity, Robert and his wounded ward followed at a distance the wagon bearing the murdered wreckers, and after a relatively short trip the teamsters stopped and unloaded their grim cargo, dumping the bodies down what appeared to be an old well by the ruins of an abandoned farm house. Laughing, the happy teamsters were paid a few extra few silver coins for their additional labors by the merchant Matthew and everyone then took their leave. Matthew then rode his horse past the manor house, but not stopping until he returned to his own farm house.

His scouting complete for the night, Robert guessed that it was near or just past midnight and that if he could ride hard and relatively fast, he could easily return to Larkford Castle to speak with the Earl the moment he arose from bed at dawn. Being just past the winter solstice, the nights were still nearly at their longest, with dawn still being perhaps six or seven hours away. Certainly he could make this journey back in less than four hours, which gave him time to mull over an alternative plan for dealing with the lad's injury that he hadn't considered until just now. He gathered his extra blanket from his saddle pack and wrapped it tight around the lad, to warm him the best he could. Then he took some rope to help bind the lad more firmly to the saddle, and patted the youngster's head in comfort.

"Lad, I know that you're still damp, bitterly cold and in pain from your wound, but we've got quite a few miles to ride, fast and hard in the night, and mostly not upon any good roads either. A couple of hours from here, I know an old wise-woman and her rather pretty but quiet daughter. She knows cures and can handle a stitch or two. I'd rather have her work her healing on you than see your young bum face the wrath of the blacksmith, as he puts a red-hot poker onto your ass cheek to sear the wound, rather than have you face wound-fever."

The lad laughed. "Many lads at sea, or on dry land for that matter, aren't at all fearful of large menacing objects being put into their asses, but in truth I'd not enjoy the intimate embrace of a heated iron straight from the fire! We'll try your wode-witch then and hope she knows her medicine!"

Indeed, the old wise-woman was none too surprised to be disturbed some hours before dawn and quickly but confidently cleaned the wound with freshly boiled water and herbs, and then a power astringent ointment was applied along with more fresh herbs and covered with an immaculately clean bandage. The lad was assured that the wound would heal fast and with little scaring in but a few weeks time, and with a laugh she urged the embarrassed youngster to avoid taking any 'entertainment' there for awhile.

Her daughter the lovely Maud remained as ever in the shadows, silent but watchful, and with a smile Robert caught the attractive young lass looking upon him, rather than assisting with the treatment of the wound. When the task was done Robert turned to thank her for her aid, but she was gone, perhaps into her small private sleeping room. Unable to delay any further, Robert made his thanks to the elderly medicus but she laughed and declined his offer of some silver coins for payment.

"Next time you come visit me," she laughed, "you can lay some roses across my grave. Aye, indeed you shall be well-pricked by laying a bed of roses upon me, err the time shall come when you shall lay the other fairer rose down upon a bed and prick her instead!" The old wise-woman found this bit of doggerel most humorous but would elaborate upon it naught. Remembering her earlier prophecy, that his tongue would solve this mystery, by his tasting of the assassin's bit of fallen cheese, the hunter resolved to keep her words to heart anyway.

With the first lights of dawn still yet some hours away, Robert had little trouble completing the last of his ride to the castle in plenty of time for them both to enjoy a bit of rest and an early breakfast of freshly baked loaves straight from the castle ovens before it was time for the Earl to be awoken as usual at the first light of dawn. He was indeed eager to hear of the success of the hunter!

"And so my lords, that is the whole of what I have discovered in your service last night. The smugglers and wreckers, led by the merchant Matthew of Keybridge and the knight Sir d'Arcy, have been gathering up arms and armor brought in by smugglers from the Low Countries at night, and stored inside of the manor barn. It was Matthew himself, an extremely skilled crossbowman, who fired the very fatal bolts that slew both your royal messenger, and the Earl's young scout Leget, along with the intended original victim, who was a traitor on his way to visit the Earl and give evidence against his fellows."