Archers of Ravenwood

Annie Maloney

Born in the early fall of 1429, I was the youngest and most precocious child of the 8 belonging to the village blacksmith and his out-county wife in the Barony of Forth in County Wexford. Our village, hardly big enough to merit the term, stood near the Irish Sea, a days easy ride from Rosslare Harbor on the eastern coast of Ireland, and within easy riding distance of the local earls estate, where fishing was the local industry along with some farming. As I grew, I learned me mothers skills with needle and cloth, often helping out with the requests from neighbors for embroidered items or the local wise-woman sachet pouches. At sixteen, well blossomed for a girl, I caught the eye of the earls middle son, a drunken fop with a horrible temper and enhanced sense of entitlement from the villagers. He felt that he was entitled to me maidenhead, I felt otherwise and resisted, but in the contest of physical strength that followed, I lost. Only the grace of God above spared me a physical reminder of that day amongst the tall grass, and sweet fate allowed me to witness the earls son take a tumble off a cliff path when his high-strung horse shied at a bramble patch some six months later. That day marked the end of my hatred of men in general.

No longer a prospect for marriage as I was soiled goods, I marked my first score of years, watching my brothers and sisters families grow, my parents grow older and fret for my lack of a husband, and my village around me murmur at the great doings over in our rulers' country, England, while the seasons flow into each other. Young men traveled through our village on their way to the harbor to meet up with soldiers and volunteer to fight for King Henry. Not one to mourn the past longer than I had to, I found many friends among those men, to the disgust of my parents. I let far fewer into my arms than they accused me of, and soon lost my heart and head over a young man by the name of Seamus Kilpatrick.

I followed him, and the drums, to distant England and then France as a member of the baggage train, skilled in the taking care of the rips, tears, and making of new clothing. I never saw the battles that bards speak and sing of. I simply saw the aftermath. I helped where I could; learning some little bit in how to care for a sick man from the wise women and the good friars and soon became fascinated by the subject.

Seamus fell less than a season after we joined a company, and I soon found myself at the mercy of every man there. I left for fear of my own retaliation to unwanted advances, hopping from baggage train to baggage train until I landed in the train belonging to the Archers of Ravenwood. I was weary, scared, and determined to make my way not on my back as so many other women had. I approached one of the women of the baggage train for a position amongst the washer women and was sent to the head of household, Angelika Schraeder. She agreed to try me out on a temporary basis provided I earn my way. I was happy to ply my trade as a washer of clothing and one with skill with a needle, relieved to be unmolested after weeks of being harried every where I turned simply for being an unwed Irish woman in a military company of men. When I met the men of Ravenwood, I found myself liking them for their honest friendship with an older Irish woman, and their honest statements of intention. Kodiak, with his gruff ways and surprisingly charming smile, helped to keep me safe as we moved from battle to battle, always willing to listen when I needed a friend to lean on or a hug when I was feeling a bit sad. Lt. Bozard, with his admiring eyes and courtly manners that kept the women in the train swooning after him with a simple look, was always willing to lend me an escort around the nearby terrain, and began teaching me a few simple tricks to help me when I was alone and threatened. They began teaching me the skills of an archer, and I grew happier in my ability to defend myself. Now I hope to continue my learning, in herbs, medicine, and perhaps even more of the puzzle of reading beyond the few letters I have, with the help of the educated men of the Archers of Ravenwood.