The King's Arrival
Group Post
The clear day that they started with was starting to gray over and thunder
could be heard in the distance. Various omens of impending doom were
rolled as the thunder pealed throughout the abandoned battlefield. The rain
had turned the churned mud into an even thicker quagmire, littered with
broken weapons and men and horses. On top of tolm clois, there was
evidence of hastily made pits, and collapsed walls of sharpened stakes.
But there was little movement amongst the static chaos to give any
indication that a fight continued here.
The wind changed direction and the horses of the traveling companions
caught the smell of death and started to get on edge. Diora quietly
watched as a pack of wolves foraged across the battlefield and hoped that
her uncle yet lived.
"It would seem, your highness, that they have moved on to other things," Ian
observed to those hushed members closest to him.
Hawk was disappointed. He hoped that he could end things here and now, it
appeared they were at least a day too late. Yet what he saw appalled him, it
was really getting out of hand. If this continued he would have to step in
hard. Only he could not afford a war on two fronts, the bulk of the army was
with his father putting down Sanglet's rebellion.
He called his scouts to him. "Find out as much as you can about what
happened here and where the armies are now. We will make camp here for the
night."
Ian called three men to him. They all three set out in different directions
after whispered instructions. Ian was used to such sights.
A small group of three riders emerged from the trees to the North. Garbed in
wooded greens, on rounceys that seemed to be sure-footed and true, they
approached the King's party at a slow trot, making it obvious they were no
threat. It was only as they approached that Hawk could see the gold cross of
the tau, hidden under one of the rider's cloaks. There were two men and one
women, lightly skinned and fair of complexion. The woman had a hard look
of experience to her face, and was obviously the older of the three. She
gave a brief bow to the King from the back of her horse, as the two men
eyed their surrounds warily. "Your Highness," she said, her voice coarse and
the words rough. "I am Mabile ui Carelia, lead scout. I greet you with the
grace of God."
'Which God?' Diora thought to herself. The battles smelled of the Church of
the One God and she didn't like this at all. Her nightmare came flooding
back. "Beware the Tau, it only brings death." She said aloud.
Arianna looked to her friend and was concerned. Her nightmares had been
more frequent and the healer was not getting any rest because of it.
Hawk noticed Diora's reaction too, but he could not pay attention to it
now. Only he himself was weary of the one God as well, being raised in the
old faith. Yet now he kept his face impassive.
"Greetings" He said. "Did you witness what happened on these fields a short
while ago." The king asked.
"Aye your Highness." She gestured to the top of the hillock. "Rhodri's men
entrenched themselves there, seven hundred soldiers in total. Madragor
assaulted this position with slightly fewer than five hundred troops, plus a
large scouting unit. After half a days fight, Madragor withdrew. About
two hundred and fifty men died here, with as many again injured from both
sides in total. The losses were roughly even."
That surprised the King. He was not a bad tactician himself, and those
troops up hill should have been able hold against the smaller attacking
force. That said something about the quality of Rhodri's troops.
"Did you follow the armies?" Was all he asked.
"Earl Madragor army has splintered into many different units. He is now
waging a war of smaller battles, trying to isolate parts of Earl Rhodri's
army and gradually destroying them piece by piece. Rhodri has
consolidated his hold here by building encampments northwest and
southeast of here, while he tries to build his road. We believe he is at
the larger encampment to the Southeast, what is known as tolm crasgach.
We do not know where Madragor is at precisely this moment, but we
can find him with a little time."
Arianna noticed that Mabile was subtly examining the King as she spoke,
the way a fighter would examine another soldier, so as draw their own
conclusions from a first impression. It was clear to her, that he was being
measured against some standard. Whether he met those standards, she
was unable to tell. That part at least, she kept hidden within her composed
expression.
The King stayed very calm outwardly. "I want them found, and I want to
talk to them, separately at first." He said. Hawk hoped it was not too
late to do something. From the looks of it Rhodri was badly outnumbered,
and there was a real possibility that Madragor would win. Hawk did not
want that, he wanted to keep the balance between those two powerful nobles.
It was never a good thing if one man got too much power and land.
Yet he was not in a good position here, he didn't have too many troops with
him, and he needed to keep people here to protect the ladies.
"Your Highness," answered Mabile. "Do you wish to summon them here,
or would you attend to them personally?"
"I think the time for pleasantness has passed." The King said. "These
gentlemen are going to start listening. I will visit them separately." He
said. "If you could help my people locate them I would be much obliged."
Mabile simply nodded. "While we search for Madragor, your needs
would best be served at tolm crasgach. It is but half a days ride from here,
and you should be there by nightfall."
The King nodded. "We will make camp there, so that will be where you can
find us." He was talking to his own scouts as well. "And starting tomorrow
I will go and talk to Rhodri."
Mabile gave orders to the rest of her companions, and the three rode away
in different directions. Now the group led by the King was alone again.
________________________
The City Reached
Evrain Llyr
An old crone
Evrain Llyr woke and was at first unsure as to where he was. Then the shap
tang of woodsmoke intermingled with the odours of horse and a huge collection
of rancid undertones and who knew what else reminded him that he had bedded
down in the old crones hut. He unrolled himself from his horse blanket and
staggered outside to find water. Luckily a half sawn barrel lay near the
door full of relatively clean water. He plunged his head in and the cold bit
him awake. Spluttering and coughing he shook the water from his hair and the
scooped up liberal handfuls of water to splash upon himself. Rubbing himself
down with his erstwhile blanket he noted that another fine day appeared to be
in the offing. This along with the recall of the old crones words, that he
would only die by the hand of one born of a white swan, cheered him up
immensely. Whistling cheerily he set about looking for something to break
his fast. He wqs rudely interupted by a mouldy potato bouncing of his head.
He spun round to see that his assailant was the old cron who had appeared
from the bushes with a sack in one hand . "What the?" demanded Evrain
angrily. The old woman scowled at him " Are ye a fool?" she retorted in
equal anger, "Whistling! Whistling! Whislting gets a body into more trouble
than can be borne!" Evrain shook his head to show that he did not
understand. The woman dropped the sack and putting both hands to her hips
lectured him as if he were a tardy schoolboy. "Whisltling wakes the evil
ones! They of the one god do say it calls their devil forth. No sailor would
whistle so! She wagged her finger at him " Never whisltle lad! Twill do ye
no good!" Evrain smiled at this clearly mad old woman and turned to his
foraging again. But he did not whistle as he did so.
As the sun began to climb and the early mists across the meadows began to
burn off Evrain mounted his horse, tossed the woman a silver penny and took
to the road once more. Soon he would be at the gates of Alban and his great
adventure could begin. Soon the traffic upon the rode became heavier and he
looked with interest at the wagons, coaches and horsemen who rode by. Here
were the citizens of the land, from the farthest flung reaches, all drawn
towards Alban and the lure it exuded of success, riches and opportunity.
As the sun began to drop towards the western horizon the city came in sight.
The towers and turrets catching the late sunlight and glowing as if
burnished. The walls in shadow sombre and severe, their crenellations
looking for all the world like some beasts vast array of teeth. Evrain was
at once elated and made nervous , for here, he felt sure. lay his destiny.
Thus with the last rays of fading day and with the curfew bell tolling Evrain
entered inot the mighty city of Alban.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"To Kill A Snake"
Group Post
When they were getting ready to leave Iorwerth clasped Sir Callaghan on the
back. "It's good to see you, I am glad you are here. For what is coming I
can use every man I can trust."
Callaghan nodded in salute to the general as his squire brought his horse
around. "I'm sorry I was late, General... the messenger was delayed," he
stated as he mounted his steed again.
"Tell me about that later." Iorwerth said, at the moment he was only
focused on revenge. "Lead on, my lord." He said to Gwynne.
"Aye sire, as you wish, it is this way," he told the General. Gwynne
kicked at his horse and encouraged the steed forward and onto the north
road, running the animal as fast as it could go.
Iorwerth and his men were in the saddle in no time and followed the knight.
Vengeance was the only thing in their mind.
Callaghan rode close behind the knight and general. Having not been
briefed, he could only guess what was going on. He was pretty sure it was
Sanglet they were going after. He thought he would have been better fit to
stay behind with the men in case another full attack was launched, but he
would go where the general wanted him.
As they rode, his mind was elsewhere. It had been a week since he'd left
Melrose. He wondered if Faedyn had had the twins yet... and if they were
okay. He shook his head, pulling himself back to the present. That wasn't
something to be thought about now. Right now he had duties to carry out.
Gwynne rode along blankly, he said nothing, only led the others to where he
had rescued Jolene. The tragedy that had taken place with that woman, all
the turmoil and heartache caused, the rescue. The feelings of abandonment---
all
seemed to coalesce and weight him down with despair. His one hope was to
kill Sanglet and take the man's head, to dishonor him and his memory for the
pain
he caused Jolene and Gwynne himself. He could visualize the wonderful moment
when Sanglet's blood was spilled and his head severed from his snake-like
body.
They arrived at the cabin to see ten armed guards standing guard outside. At
the sound of horses, Sanglet strode out. His face was set in furious tone.
Four guards spread out in front of him were pulling swords and shields. The
other six fanned out in an arc to protect the man they had chosen for King.
Nwython's men dismounted and moved to engage the six soldiers who sought to
encircle Iowerth and his knights while protecting Sanglet's flanks. That
left the four in front of the General, and Sanglet himself. The odds were
roughly
even.
Iorwerth didn't even notice how many there were. He only saw Sanglet. "You
butcher!" He shouted. "This day you are going to die, and there will be
justice for everything you did." It didn't take him long to reach Sanglet
and engage him in sword fight.
Sir Callaghan jumped from his steed and quickly ordered his squire into the
combat. The High Knight rushed some of the guards that had gone to protect
their leader. His sword fell upon their shields, which was enough to get the
attention of two of them at least. As they whirled around to face him,
William ducked low and brought his sword down upon the side of the knee of
one of
the men, slicing straight through it and crumpling him instantly as the man
let
out a shrill cry. Callaghan turned his attention to the other man just in
time to bring his shield up and block a blow from him. He was a strong and
lithe
warrior despite his armor.
Gwynne to sprang into action upon seeing the men, he saw Callaghan go for
the two men on the left, so he took the two guards on the right. He was
surprised at how well they fought, they must have been Sanglet's elite.
Gwynne had
decided to forgo his shield and was using a sword and a mace. A sword came
at his chest and he blocked it, and swung the mace around, banging the
enemies
shield. The spikes in the mace stuck to the shield and Gwynne ripped the
shield from the man's arm and sent it flying into the air. "You should have
strapped the shield to your arm," Gwynne taunted the man. He ducked low and
rammed the spikes of the mace into his enemies legs, sending the man
crashing to the ground.
In his rage, he gave no quarter to the enemy and chopped off the guard's
head with one fierce downswing of his blade. Bloodlust was in his eyes now as
he looked to the next guard, he made sure to turn and check that the General
was safe, and started combat with the last guard that he had engaged in
battle.
The general by now was fighting Sanglet. And although he was not a beserker
like his son, his anger made him come close, and it was clear that his
opponent was the weaker swordsman.
Sanglet fought with deadly accuracy though the general forced him back
repeated! ly. The man was enraged and that was not in his favor. However, he
was better with the blade and Sanglet well knew it. He had to even the
score. "You fight to kill me, thinking it will leave your weakling son to
rule. How long before some cold takes him to his bed? He spends more
time on his back then his feet." Sanglet scoffed, dancing out of Iowerth's
way.
One of his men had cut down a christain knight and was moving to watch
Sanglet's back. It was the Lord's fight and he would not interfere. However,
if he bested the general, there would be the rest of the remaining men
loyal to the weakling King to deal with.
Iorwerth was still angry, and the things Sanglet said didn't make him less
angry. Yet he was too well trained a soldier to let it interfere with his
fighting. And for the first time he managed to hit his opponent. Leaving a
big gash on the man's chest. That had to hurt and would slow him down.
Sanglet let out a howl of rage and attacked anew. His blows reigned furious
forcing the General backwards in self-defense. Iowerth was not given a
chance to give a blow, so busy was he in fielding Sanglet's rage.
Sanglet left an opening in his defenses three distinct times and Iowerth was
quickly able to see the pattern. There was a pattern to Sanglet's furious
advance.
The general indeed saw the weakness in the others pattern. He also saw that
Sanglet was getting tired, and he found his opening striking the other man
full in the chest. It was a mortal wound, and it gave Iorwerth great
satisfaction when he felt his blade slice through flesh and muscle.
Gwilym fought as best he could. Through the preciseness of the skill of the
elite, he was able to cut down the soldier though he himself sustained
several wounds himself. He kept fighting and prayed to the goddess to protect
his
love and let his sword strike true. He was moving ever closer to Sanglet
attacking yet another soldier. He heard Sanglet call Hawk weak and the rage
within him made him careless. He over extended his sword thrust and the
soldier came
around and planted his sword into the side of Gwilym's armor. Gwilym, in
reaction to the sword blow, brought his sword around and decapitated the
head of the soldier. He slumped to the ground as the world around him was
oblivious in fighting. He still had breath in him yet.
Meanwhile, Sir Callaghan had slain another adversary, only to bring on the
onslaught of another. He tasted the metallic tang of blood in his mouth, but
was unsure if he'd been wounded. His adrenaline was running high as he
fought hard against his larger opponent. The man was at least five inches
taller and was bulkier, but it gave Callaghan the advantage of quickness. He
dealt
rapid blows, barely giving the larger man enough time to block them. The High
Knight finally spotted an opening and thrust his sword through the man's
shoulder,
twisting the blade as he brought it out. The man turned in pain and
Callaghan dealt him his final blow, driving his sword through the base of the
man's
neck.
As he did so, Callaghan was knocked forward to his knees by a mace. The mace
bounced off of Callaghan's back plate, but it was enough to knock him off
balance. The Knight regained himself as quickly as he could and turned fast
enough to be able to slice the man at the hip. But it wasn't enough to stop
him. With bodies surrounding them and the sounds of combat filling the air,
Callaghan engaged yet another man, only given enough time to worry about his
new opponent.
Iorwerth pulled his sword out and saw the other slump to the ground. Only
then did he become aware again of his surroundings. There were many dead and
wandered on the ground, most of them unfamiliar thank the gods.
Until he recognised Sir Gwilym, the knight wasn't dead yet he seemed to be
in very bad shape. The general knelt down next to him. "Hang in there son,
there is help coming."
Gwilym opened his eyes and pain wracked through him. "Not much time left,
I'm afraid I will not make it home." He winced as another wave of pain
wracked
through his body. He pulled out a piece of tartan from underneath his armor.
"Please make sure Diora gets this, tell her to be strong for our child...
and that I'll always love her..." He said. He was having problems breathing
and
all at once he let out a sigh and the light from Gwilym's eyes disappeared.
He was gone.
Sanglet had used the time, holding his hand to his wound, to stagger up. If
he was going to die here, he was taking the King's father with him. The
General
was still bowed over the fallen knight, showing his weakness. He quietly
raised his sword to remove the man's head.
Gwynne saw what was about to happen and rushed to the General's aide, his
quick sword stopped Sanglet right as he was close to the man's back. After
blocking the blow, Gwynne kicked Sanglet in the jaw, sending him backwards.
"Sire, your revenge awaits," he said, he wanted to kill the man for
what he had done to Jolene, but he was loyal to the Royal family. He stood
behind Iorwerth as protection, making sure no one else attacked him.
Iorwerth was on his feet again in heart beat. He was furious with grief and
anger. Good men had died today, and his rat had tried to murder him while
his back was turned. He did not deserve to live. Yet the general was not a
cold-blooded murderer, so he allowed Sanglet to get up and grab his sword.
The man was weakened by his wounds, and this time Iorwerth showed no
hesitation. it didn't take him long before Sanglet was finally dead. The
older man spat at the body, that lay before him separated from the head. "You
will not kill again, you bastard."
Sir Callaghan stood just a few feet away from the general and the slain
Sanglet, his sword at ready, though the only ones surrounding them were
their own men and dead bodies. He'd known of Sanglet, but had never
encountered the man. It was apparent that he'd caused much grief.
Callaghan finally looked back at the general, waiting for further orders.
There were men that needed to be treated.
Of the six christian knights that fought, one lay dead and two others were
injured grievously. The remaining three tended to them, but left the
injured men of Sanglet's alone. They also offered their healing services to
Iowerth and his knights, and eventually they left the scene of Sanglet's
demise, and returned triumphant to the rest of the army.
Iorwerth gave his men the orders to also look after Sanglet's men. Now
that the rebellion was over these people had to learn to trust the royal
house again.
Sanglet's body was carefully preserved and would be taken as evidence back
to the court. Slowly and suddenly feeling his age and his wounds the
general made his way back to their own camp.
_________________________
Board and Lodging
Evrain Llwyr
Various NPCs
The Pig and whistle
The City of Alban
The walls of Alban loomed large above him as Evrain Llwyr rode up to the busy
gateway. The gate guards gave him but a cursory glance and then he was
through the echoing tunnel and its suspended iron portcullis and out into
the streets of this bustling city. The sights and sound, stinks and vigour
of the place excited in Evrain a sense of opportunity, of moments yet to be
grasped. He threaded his horse through the bustle to find an inn and
eventually he drew rein in the courtyard of the Pig and Whistle. Whose
gaudy sign had drawn his eye. An old man with a patched eye and scarred
face limped over, Evrain assumed, correctly, that this was the ostler. "Take
yer 'oss sir?" enquired the fellow and Evrain gladly handed the reins over
tossing the man a penny to ensure his mount got a good rub down before being
tethered for the day. With his saddle bags over his shoulder Evrain strode
into the cosy fug of the main bar. Against one wall hogsheads and oak casks
lined the wall and from them a bevy of serving wenches were drawing ale for
the thirsty customers. Few of whom bothered much with yet another
travellers arrival. Evrain stood uncertain in the doorway and was somewhat
surprised by a voice at his elbow. " Welcome to the Pig and Whistle young
man! And are you looking for a room?" Evrain glanced down and saw his
questioner was a short, doughty looking woman whose rough hands and ample
bosom declared her to be the landlady. "Indeed" replied Evrain " I am but
newly arrived in the city and do require lodgings whilst I go about my
business. The woman beamed at him " Why then good sir you have come to the
right place! The Pig and Whistle is famed through the land for its
hospitality and good ales!" she snapped her fingers and a coarse faced
girl appeared and curtseyed. " This is Edith" the landlady informed Llwyr
" She a bit simple but can do most jobs tolerably well. Can't you?" she
said to the girl. The girl nodded dumbly. " Give Edith your bags and she
will carry them to your room" instructed the landlady "and Edith!" she added
" the gentleman is to go into the front room with the bay window." The girl
turned and the landlady added " And no hanky panky my girl! In the room and
out mark you!" The landlady turned to Evrain " No offence to you sir but I
do have some customers whose hands do roam when they gets in a room alone
with my girls. That's why I tries to employ the ugly ones . Less bother
you see." With this nugget of wisdom delivered the landlady left to oversee
the mopping of some spilled ale and Evrain turned to follow the girl up the
stairs.
The room was well proportioned, light and clean. Evrain was relieved for he
had oft heard tales of the low houses that lay in wait for the unwary
traveller. Edith dumped his bags upon the floor and fled, mindful of her
mistresses instructions. Evrain grinned to himself, poor Edith, with her
coarse features it would have to be a blind man who wished to dally with
her. The landlady had indeed spoke the truth about the employment or
otherwise of comely wenches. Within the hour Evrain had unpacked and eaten a
hearty meal. As the day faded and the curfew bell tolled he lay upon his
bed and relaxed. As he gazed reflectively at the ceiling a knock came upon
his door. "Yes?" enquired Evrain. The door opened and a slight men, dressed
all in black slipped into the room. He held his finger to his lips in
silent indication that Evrain should hold his tongue. The man went to the
window and standing to one side so as not to be seen glanced out into the
darkening street. He pulled the shutter closed before returning to face
Evrain who by this time was sat up and reaching for his dagger. "Nay!" said
the man " Put aside your weapon! I am come as a friend. Besides" he added
grinning " If I wanted you dead you would be cold by now!" Evrainopened his
mouth to speak but the man held up a silencing hand. " We do not have much
time! I must be gone 'ere those who are tracking me pick up my trail again.
All I must say to you Evrain is " How are you fond of Madog cheese?"
Evrain felt a tremor run through his body as the words he had been coached in
were at last uttered in earnest. Evrain nodded and replied , whilst reached
below the bed to draw forth the satchel containing the papers he had
travelled so far to deliver, " I prefer it when 'tis three years old " The
man in black relaxed at this and the sight of the bag and he reached out to
take it.
What happened next was a blur. The shutters banged open and a gust of wind
swirled into the room. the tapers were blown out and Evrain heard the
distinct sound of feet landing upon the wooden floor, the high pitched note
of a bow string sounded and Evrain heard someone choking. A body collided
with him and a knife slashed across his jerkin laying it open from neck to
navel. Evrain fell, blackness all about him a boot hit him in the head and
he knew no more.
________________________
Guilt & Innocence
Evraine Llwyr Gentleman
Bernard Cribs Notary at Law
Sullen Jailer
Felon Street Goal
Alban
How many hours or days had passed Evrain knew not. At intervals a flap in
the door crashed open and some inedible slop was thrust through. Evrain had
turned from it in disgust at first but now he had taken to sipping it. He
had no idea what he must look like, dishevelled, unshaven, unwashed and with
a raw scar across his naked chest he must look a wild sight he thought.
Then he heard the bolts being drawn, a key in the lock and the door swung
open. A cool rush of air entered the fetid cell and the first light he had
seen in many days, all be it a dim lanthorn, almost blinded him. Peering
Evrain could make out the shape of the burly warder. " Come on!" was all he
said and truculently he led Evrain up stone stairs to another door which
opened up into a room bare but for a plain table and two chairs. Here the
light was almost piercing and Evrain had again to shield his eyes. The
sounds of the city filtered into the room and the air was sweet. Evrain
felt as if he had risen from the dead. As his eyes adjusted he noticed
that apart from the warder there was another man in the room. Small, rotund
with wispy strands of hair floating about a bald pate. The man wore thick
glasses and had ink stains upon his fingers. The man was seated at the
table and across the table were strewn documents of all shapes and sizes.
"Sit! Sit!" said the man affably and then to the warder who showed no signs
of moving " You may leave us now" The guard did not move " Wait outside!"
said the little man more sharply and the warder , with much ill grace, left
the room. " Do sit!" said the man Evrain sat, thinking he had never been
so thankful to sit upon an ordinary chair in his life before. " Now " said
his companion " You must be wondering who I am" Evrain, who had not spoken
to a soul in his imprisonment found speaking difficult so he merely nodded
his head. " I am Bernard Cribs, Notary at Law, I am appointed by the courts
to defend those who have no other means of defence. You have no other means
of defence?" asked the man Again Evrain shook his head to signify that he
did not. " Good! Good!" enthused Bernard " So, I shall be defending you
when you come to court and shall act for you until the execution." Here
Evrain at last found his voice croaking hoarsely " Execution? But if you
are to defend me....?" Bernard sighed " Ah yes, well, though I do defend
you it is quite plain that you are guilty. Therefore I shall plead
mitigating circumstances and ask for a reduction in the tariff." Evrain's
mind was in a whirl. " A tariff what do you mean? " Well " replied Bernard
" Murder is classed here in several degrees. A man kills his wife's rapist,
he may well be set free. A man kills his cheating neighbour mayhap a stiff
fine. But a man kills another in a drunken brawl hanging would result. But
then again of course cold blooded murder." Here the Bernard's voice trailed
off.
"Yes?" asked Evrain unable to contain himself
" Well in that case the judge will without a doubt recommend hanging and
quartering." Evrain paled. He knew what that meant. To be partly
strangled and then cut down to see your own entrails removed and cast upon a
pyre. Then to be torn apart by four horses attached to each limb. The
prospect was a daunting one.
"And you think the judge will....?" Evrain left the question hanging in the
air.
The Bernard shrugged and shuffled some papers " A judge to my mind would see
this on the facts as they are now to be one of sheer callous killing and
hand down the sternest penalty."
Evrain shuddered " But I am innocent!" he protested feebly.
"Not according to this evidence" Bernard waved at the papers before them "
Each affidavit sworn before a magistrate says you were found with the
murdered man. He with your crossbow bolt in him and you part skewered by
his blade."
"It was not like that!" said Evrain and he went on to outline the facts as
they had happened that night., though he played down the part the documents
played, merely saying he was meeting the man to exchange business
information.
Bernard listened to it all and then lapsed into deep thought. Finally he
turned to Evrain and said " If these things happened as you say then you are
indeed innocent. But " here he sighed and shook his head " Convincing a
judge, will be quite another matter. What we need" he added " Is some way
of showing that the murder weapon is not, nor ever could have been yours."
Evrain sat and felt lost. How on earth were they to do that? At that
moment the surly jailer entered and demanded that Evrain be returned to his
cell. Evrain bid Bernard farewell and Bernard promised to see him again
upon the morrow.
As the cell door slammed behind him Evrain began to pace the narrow
confines, he had to come up with some way of proving his innocence or
shortly he would surely die!
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A Refutation Discovered
Evrain Llyyr Gentleman
Bernard Cribs Notary at Law
Felon Street Goal
Alban
The hours crawled by and again Evrain lost track of time in his dark cell.
When he had given up all hope and had resigned himself to the fact that his
new found champion, Mr Cribs, Notary at Law, had abandoned him the cell door
was flung open and he was again hauled into bright daylight and the presence
of the living. They were once more in the bare room facing one another.
Evrain conscious that he was now even ranker, filthier and more woebegone
than at their first meeting. Cribs however did not show whether the sight
offended him he merely greeted Evrain with his jolly smile and invited him
to sit. The papers of the case were again strewn between them and Cribbs
riffled through them as he addressed Evrain. "I have made further enquiries
and have established that there were no eye witnesses to the actual
incident. That being so the case against you rests entirely upon the scene
of the crime as witnessed by those who entered your lodgings following the
screams from the serving wench who was sent to rouse you."
Evrain, himself a petty assizes JP knew enough law to realise that this was
but circumstantial evidence and said as much. "Indeed, indeed" concurred
Cribs " But our major problem is that you were discovered clutching the
murder weapon and that as a stranger to this city you have no one to vouch
for your previous good character." A silence fell between the two. Then
Evrain ventured " If I, we, could show that the weapon was not mine then
that would exonerate me?"
"Possibly" agreed the Notary " Though a Bernard can kill with another's
weapon"
Evrain felt dejected. Even that which could disprove seemed also likely to
prove. He was, he concluded, no further forward. "I have drawn up a
statement on your behalf" said the Notary pulling out a sheet of paper. "If
you sign it will be read out in court in your defence."
Listlessly Evrain scanned the wordy text and signed it with a mechanical
gesture. "I have other papers you must needs read" added the Notary
removing the affidavit from Evrain's fingers. Another paper was thrust
before him and he could hardly be bothered to decipher the wordy prose and
then suddenly he sat upright " What do you mean by this?" he demanded with a
catch in his voice and he read " the crossbow showed signs of much previous
use the right hand lock channel being worn at the head."
"I am no warrior" smiled the affable Cribs " I could not tell what that
meant"
"Well I can!" said Evrain with an excitement the little Bernard had not seen
before " It means the crossbow was owned and used by someone who was left
handed! As they notched the bolt they would wear the lock channel. A right
handed person would naturally load right to left and the wear would occur
on the left side!"
The Notary's eyebrows rose " Is this true?" he asked
"Any armourer worth his salt would tell you exactly that!" said Evrain
firmly.
The Notary pursed his lips and taking the script read the passage for
himself. He then lowered it and looked at Evrain. " So I take it you are
right handed?"
" Indeed I am!" exclaimed Evrain
"And I believe the victim was right handed also...." Mused Cribs "Therefore
it is logical to assume that whoever fired the bolt was indeed left handed
and therefore a third party was present. A party who wished both of you
ill." He lowered the paper and smiled at Evrain " Good sir! I think we
may have the beginnings of a refutation!" Both men smiled at each other
and Evrain felt a lifting of his spirits that even the return to his squalid
cell could not depress.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Tense Emotions"
Iowerth,
Bronwen
and Nwython
Iowerth rode back into camp. The dead were over the horses and
Sanglet's body was included as proof that this was ended. The remaining
men would most likely surrender seeing their Leige's body. He sent
the two knights to make the men left in the tower were aware of the
ending of this feud and demand their surrender.
As his orders were being enacted, Nwython approached the General.
"My Lord," he began solemly. "I have some unfortunate news."
The general sighed not sure he wanted to hear more bad news. He badly
wanted to rest and tend his own wounds, yet his duty was not done.
"Tell me." He said grufly.
"Baron McCullen is dead. He passed away shortly after you left with
your knights to find Sanglet."
Iorwerth closed his eyes for a moment. He had grown fond off the boy
finally. So many dead, so many good men gone forever because of one
power crazy fool. Does my daughter know yet." He asked wearily.
"No. Not yet," he replied. "Being a family matter, I thought you would
wish to deal with the matter personally."
"yes, of course, thank you." He dismissed the man absent-mindedly, he was
only thinking of his daughter now.
Iorwerth went to find her. Finally he did find her hiding in a tent.
"sweetheart, its daddy, may I come in?"
Bronwen fled to her father. "Is the battle over?" She was shaking. True
fear at being recaptured by Sanglet had swept over her when she had
heard that his forces were within her father's encampment.
he managed not to wince as she grabbed hold of him. only now was the
beginning to feel his wounds.
"It's over, Princess. We have won, and you are safe." He led her to the camp
bed and sat her down. little one, there is no easy way to say this, Seth
didn't make it. He fought bravely." Iorwerth wished his wife was here, or
even his son, they were so much better at dealing with this.
Bronwen stared at him as if she had not heard him correctly. Then slowly,
she shook her head in denial. "No, he would not leave me. He promised."
She whispered. "Why would you say such a thing." Her eyes stared up at
him, large and luminous.
"it's true. They couldn't save him. He didn't suffer much." The general
felt awkward, uneasy about what to do.
The shock was followed by almost immediate anger. "I want to see him." She
demanded. There were no expected tears.
"I will take you to him later." Her father said helplessly. He didn't want
Bronwen to see where the wounded were treated and the dead bodies stored it
was a sight that made grown Warriors blanche. It was no place for a woman.
"He is my husband. I demand to see him. He can't leave me. We have a babe.
He hasn't even seen it yet." Her voice bordered on hysterical.
"you can't right now sweetheart. We would be in the way of the healers. They
have to take care of the living now, lass." Iorwerth was afraid, this was
the second time he had seen a child in pain over the loss of a spouse, the
last time it happened he had very nearly lost that child. "You are with
child,
daughter, you have to be brave."
Bronwen finally burst into tears and fled to her father. Her encumbered body
made it hard but she found a way to cry upon him and feel the safety of his
arms. It was then that her hand touched blood. "Da, are you wounded?" She
couldn't lose him too.
"it's just a couple of scratches, sweetheart." By now it was beginning to
hurt, and he knew he was still losing blood, yet he did not want to frighten
his daughter.
Bronwen screeched for a gaurd and when his head appeared she sent
him for a healer. "Come let us get your armour off." Focusing on the
needs at hand was easier then her loss.
"That's no job for a woman." He grumbled. "honestly it's nothing."
"More then one woman has done the job." She began to unbuckle the fastens
that held his armor in place.
He tried not to wince as she pulled the armour of. The general reedy didn't
want her to see his pain. "Maybe you should try to rest a little while I call
my squires." He said gruffly.
"If your squires live and my husband does not, they had best stay
clear of me." She said in a deadily whisper. She knew that Seth would
have gone to her father during the attack. The healer entered her tent
along with two gaurds to assist him. She moved back to let them work.
"I had to select some little boys from the pages." He said suddenly very
weary, and letting his guard down. "They are all dead." He remembered the
boys he had trained from small children into almost men. They would never
see manhood now. So many good souls had died today, and many more of
fighting for their lives while a healer was in here looking after his minor
wounds.
"Get off me!" He said shakily getting to his feet. "Go into your real job, I
am fine."
The healer hesitated a little afraid of the general, and looked at the
princess for guidance.
"Father, let this man attend you or I will." Bronwen said firmly. "The
sooner it is done, the sooner he can attend others."
Grumbling he gave in to his daughter's wishes and let himself be tended.
It took the healer over half an hour to tend to the general and when he
was finished he took the princes aside. The healer was a clever man and
knew that she had lost her husband and realised that now she badly
needed something to occupy her mind. Very convinient because the
old bull needed tending.
"Your highness." He said. "Your father's life is not in danger at the
moment. Yet he lost a great deal of blood and he should rest. Will you
see to it that he does? He will need close monitoring for the next couple
of days and I can't spare anyone."
If she was watching her father, she could keep busy. "I will see to it."
She said, firmly. She did not want to be alone.. alone with the thought
that she might be alone for sometime with a small babe. She watched
as the men filed out and she came to her father who lay upon her bed. "I
will fetch you something to eat." She said quietly.
"I can get that myself, princess. It's time I got back to work anyway."
He started to sit up. It was chaos out there and he was the commander
of the armies.
"I will send for your commanders but you will not move or you will find
out how like Mother I am." She said quietly but firmly.
Inwardly he smiled. Bronwen looked better than she had an hour ago.
"I don't want them to see me weak, Princess. So let's compromise I will
meet them in your tent, but sitting in a camp chair. And I want you to
promise me that you will not go and see the body without me."
Bronwen frowned, he knew her too well. She wasn't ready to see Seth
anyway so she nodded her head. She wondered why she wasn't crying.
Shouldn't she be wailing as she had seen other women do? She nodded
her head to her father and helped him into a chair. She then went out to
find food and drink for her father. She ran into a knight she did not know.
Nwython recognised Bronwen instantly. It was his business to know
people, especially those who were important members of the ruling class.
Given her current state however, he thought that Iowerth had not managed
to break the news to her yet. It was certainly a matter important enough
to bring his preparations for departure back to Alban to a temporary halt.
"My apologies, Lady McCullen, but I believe your father is looking for you,"
he said gently.
"He is in my tent. He asks for his commanders, Sir Nwython, perhaps
you can make sure they come to him here." She said somewhat
absently. Bronwen had learned of the Church of the Tau from her
state lessons and had even remembered this man's name though they
had not been introduced. She had seen him twice before from a
distance and had made sure to learn his name.
"I will send some messengers to ensure they attend." He was very
glad he had taken the time to wash his hands carefully. "You have
my deepest sympathies in your time of loss. Baron McCullen fought
bravely and with little thought for his own safety. In the end, he
sacrificed his life for that of another, and I am sure the Lord will
therefore take special care of him and his family."
Bronwen paused. "You were there? For whom did he sacrifice himself
for? Did he say anything?" She asked in a torrent of questions.
"Why, General Iowerth of course," he said in mild surprise. "Did he
not tell you what happened?"
"Not any details, no." She said, her eyes filling with tears she would
not shed in front of this man. "Did .. did he say anything? Did he die
quickly?" She hoped it had been quick and painless. The numbness
was wearing off and it was getting harder not to cry.
Nwython thought carefully for a moment. "Do you wish to say
goodbye?" he asked.
"I.. I do. But.. I.." Bronwen swallowed hard. "I promised my father that
I would not do so without him. Please, fetch his commanders and
see if someone can send him some food and drink." She turned and
picked up her skirts to flee back to the tents.
Nwython let her leave. It was clear she was greatly distressed, although
she was trying hard to hide it. Perhaps with a little time. There was
still the unresolved issue of Seth's last moments anyway. When she
was ready.
He chased down several pages and had them seek out Iowerth's
commanders. In particular the High Knight of Fire and the Crested
Knight of Topaz. Then he left himself, on urgent travel to another
troublespot of the realm...
____________________
“At the Fire’s Light”
Kingdom of Abertawe
Sir Gwynne Hawley, Crest of Topaz
Sir William Callaghan, High Knight of Fire
Location: Sanglet estate, campgrounds...
--
Sir Callaghan read over the missive again in disbelief. The children... she’d had the children. He kept reading over it as he sat on a few laid out blankets outside his tent beside the fire, as if he’d missed something. The man was in shock. She’d had their babies... and he wasn’t there for her. They were a week old by now. His hands shook as he looked down at the piece of parchment. She’d said not to worry... they were fine and healthy and would be waiting for him when he returned. He was a father... a father of two beautiful, healthy children.
“Get my writing satchel,” he suddenly spoke up to one of his squires that were sitting not far from him, too shocked to move. The young boy disappeared into the tent and a moment later he set the leather bag beside William.
He grabbed the satchel as he leaned onto his side. After retrieving a piece of paper and quill, he immediately set about writing, the cold forgotten. He already missed his beautiful wife, and now knowing that he had two children waiting for him only made it worse.
“Dear Faedyn,
I cannot express in words how much I miss you. The news you’ve sent me has excited me beyond description. Please know that I am safe and will remain so for you, and I will return as soon as I can. Do not worry for me, darling. Take care of the children and stay strong for them.
I wish I was in your arms. I may not be able to, but know that I’ll be in your dreams tonight...”
Before he could continue, one of the squires spoke up. “Sir... the fire,” he’d said. William looked up and saw the fire flickering out. He hadn’t even noticed it start to fade, and his impatience grew instantly. He quickly slipped the letter and quill into his leather bag and tucked it under his arm as he stood.
He looked around a moment, looking for the closest camp. He generally wasn’t an outgoing or sociable man, but he wanted to get this letter sent as soon as possible. He wanted his wife to know he was fine and would be returning to her side. Leaving his tent, he walked toward the closest one, seeing a man in front of it that he recognized from the battle with Sanglet earlier. “Do you mind if I borrow your light?” His deep voice cut through the air suddenly as he paused on the perimeter of the firelight.
Gwynne, lost in his thoughts and melancholy being, looked up to see who the voice was, “Yes Sir William, share the light as you please,” he replied and went back to staring into the flames.
Callaghan was surprised at the use of his first name, but he reluctantly sat down on the earth after thanking the knight, his back against a large rock. He sat where he was a moment, still too shocked to move, but eventually he withdrew the letter from his satchel and continued writing. But as he wrote, his mind drifted to his children... his children. She hadn’t told him if they were boys or girls, and he’d just noticed it.
“Writing a letter for the King?” Gwynne asked, attempting friendliness, though his voice was full of sadness.
William looked up and across the fire at the man. “No,” he replied simply, and thought to leave it at that. Though he knew it would’ve been rude. Any other time he wouldn’t have cared... but for some reason, now he did. “Wife,” he said quietly as he twitched the quill in his fingers, stopping his writing a moment.
“I understand. I lost my fiancé to a convent. Don't let her escape your sight milord, for they are precious jewels, and once they slip through your fingers, the emptiness they leave in their wake is unbearable,” he said to the Knight.
Sir Callaghan kept his gaze upon the other knight. “She would not leave me,” he said simply before looking back to his letter and continuing his writing.
“Then she is a real find, Sir Knight. Those are the best kind of women, the ones that don't leave. She probably would not break your heart too, am I right?” he asked, a sardonic tone to his voice. “Aye I'm sure she'll remain true all her days. Where does one find such a lady?” he quipped sadly and picked up a stick to throw it in the fire. He enjoyed watching it burn, it's exactly how Gwynne felt. As if he was burning from the inside out.
Callaghan looked up and watched the man carefully. He had apparently had a rough time with women. “In the most unlikely places,” he replied to the man’s cynical question. William had not been looking when he found Faedyn. Women were not the priority in his life then.
It was then that the other Knight saw Gwynne's bottle of rum. Gwynne took a nice hefty sip, “Yep, met my beloved in a tavern. She had the voice of a choir of angels, and then left me to go sing in a choir, or serve the other nuns or whatever they do in those horrid places,” he said angrily, he took another large swig of his rum.
William cleared his throat as he turned his gaze back to his parchment, finishing his letter. He was not the type to get personal... with anyone. And he certainly was not going to counsel anyone. When he finished the letter, he made sure it was sealed before he handed off to one of his squires that had accompanied him over. “Make sure this gets to the Melrose Manor,” he informed him.
“Yes, milord,” the squire nodded and ran off quickly.
“Melrose, eh?” Gwynne asked, he slurred the question. “Been there once when I was traveling, nice place,” Gwynne was having trouble keeping his balance and swerved to the left. “Yeah, met my lady at a tavern, did I tell ya that?” he asked, taking another sip of his beloved rum, now his only true companion.
“I believe you did,” William replied quietly as he stood; now leaning against the large rock as he looked over at the drunken man.
“Yep she went into a convent instead of marry me. Deserting me, taking her from me, tearing my heart in two. Isn't that like women though? The power they hold over men disgusts me,” he spat. He put his hands out to get warmth from the flames and almost fell into them. “I tell you, I have half a mind to go to the brothel and buy me a wife,” he laughed hysterically at this.
“I suggest, as a fellow knight, that you lay off the rum, or you will be of no service to your king,” William advised. He knew he’d been worse... but not when he was needed by the king. The man was obviously torn. William remembered Cara. He’d been torn, too, until he met Faedyn and realized that all Cara had been was lust.
“Ah good Knight, I thank you. Find me another way to drown my sorrow, and I shall do away with the rum, posthaste. Ah it soothes my heart,” he said happily, taking a swig. “The war is over, I have paid my debts. I am a wealthy man and alone. I have no reason to let go of this bottle,” he told the man.
“Suit yourself,” Callaghan shrugged as he squatted down near the fire, his mind drifting back to Faedyn. He would give anything to be with his family this night.
“So, tell me what is it like to have a lass at your side? In your bed every night, and who worries about your safety when you are off to war? What does that feel like?” he asked. He was wavering as he sat there, rocking back and forth like a ship at sea, the flask of rum still in his hands and he'd stop to drink after every sentence, slurring each word he spoke.
William was silent a long moment, thinking that perhaps his should leave. “That is not something I can describe...” he replied smoothly, leaving it at that and hoping Hawley would.
“Ah yes, right, right, right. Don't want to give any other men the ideas of bliss that beholds them in the loving arms of a lass. Aye!” Gwynne slurred again. He drank another swig and looked William in the eyes, “Cherish her, Knight, for a lass who loves ye, is more precious than gold and fine jewels,” he lamented sadly.
Callaghan nodded. The man had uttered a very true statement. He reached over and picked up his satchel. “I will leave you be,” he told the knight quietly.
“Aye everyone does, story of my life,” Gwynne replied, losing his balance and falling face first in the gravel. His rum spilled out completely. “Now even my rum deserts me!” he said before passing out.
William shook his head and dropped his leather satchel to the ground as he walked over to the unconscious knight. He picked the man up and called for his squires to see to it that he was in bed safely for the night, away from any rum. Knights did indeed look after their own. Sir Callaghan walked back out of the tent and over to his satchel, picking it up and heading back for his own tent. He was about to enter when a young page caught him and informed him that his presence was requested with General Iowerth... some sort of meeting. After handing off his satchel to one of his squires, he fastened on his sword once again and followed the page.
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