Upheaval and Change - Tales 22

The general went to look for the captain. He was still thinking about what to do about his daughter and the young man. And he had found out too that he was Deirdre's squire. So he did not want to do anything without talking to her first.

"Captain, do you have a moment." Iorwerth said grimly. "There is something I need to talk to you about; it is about your squire. He has disgraced my daughter." And he told her the whole story of what had happened that morning.

Deirdre's face had hardened throughout the epistle; she now looked at the general with a mixture of cold fury and embarrassment. "What do you plan on doing with him?" she asked coldly.

"I am not sure. First I want your opinion on that young man. Is he a womanizer, or is my daughter to blame. I will not kill an innocent man." He rubbed his eyes, very tired.

The knight shook her head. She felt like a mouse stuck between a wall and a lion. She wouldn't dare blame the princess; not with a doting father before her. Yet she hadn't initially gotten that impression from Seth, either.

"My lord, I do not know your daughter well, but last I spoke with her, she was adamant about the fact that Seth was not a suitable... partner for her position," she finally admitted grudgingly. The words did not shed a favorable light upon her squire, however.

"No, I know my daughter, she wants a rich are spent. So you think the boy forced, he raped her. In that case a sentence will be very severe." The general said.

Sighing, Deirdre shook her head again. "To be honest, my lord, I don't. In the time that I have trained him, I believe him incapable of such an act." Her face darkened into a glower. "However, those people seem to be the best actors, as well." She felt a stab of betrayal, but hope smothered it.

"Yes, you are right. I will give the boy a fair chance to explain himself. But if he forced her to do anything, he dies." he said. "Thank you for being so honest, my dear, I appreciate it."

She couldn't help but shiver at the way he so casually could determine whether a man lived or died. She supposed it came with the position over time, though. "Thank you, my lord. I will... try to find out for myself as well." Her stomach turned at the prospect that she could have been so duped by such a man.

Iorwerth took his leave from her.

Mae smiled as the squire turned a corner and entered the courtyard. "Let us speak to the Dame."

Seth nodded, he knew they needed Deirdre's support in the endeavor. The pair, deep in thought, headed towards the stables. Seth knew he could use every ounce of support he could get, two high knights was hopefully enough. He hoped Deirdre would help him after hearing of what happened. But when they found the knight, it was clear she had already heard the tale. Nothing could have said that better than the cold fury she turned upon Seth. "What were you thinking?" she asked, not giving him a chance to speak.

"Love can make people do crazy, irrational things. I am sorry if I brought any dishonor upon you." He bowed his head ready for anything she might send at him.

Mae stood back in silence. The action Seth had taken in his pursuit of Bronwen was poorly executed. Deirdre had a right to reprimand this lad, but she should not deny his heart. Mae felt it proper to aid the young man, someone needed to support what was right with the world. She knew true love was one of those things.

"You weren't thinking of that yesterday, were you?" she asked, her anger unabated by the presence of her fellow High Knight. "I truly believed you wished to become a knight of this land, Seth. I admit I had my reservations at first, but you had won me over in the end. But... do you know nothing of the knight's code you wanted so hard to live by?" Her tone had cooled again, yet it was disappointment that eased her temper, not the words of the squire.

Mae stepped forward and spoke up, clearly upset at the outcome of this confrontation. "Which code do you speak of Dame Deirdre? There are several we follow and as I recall, The knight seeks not only to sacrifice his body for the honorable cause, but his heart and soul as well." She paused and motioned towards the squire. "The boy is young, but he has given all three to one he loves. If we are to deny this then we are simply heartless fools." She folded her arms and waited for a response, why was she entangling herself in this mess?

Deirdre slowly turned her gaze upon Mae, surveying her critically. "You truly approve of his actions, Dame?" she asked skeptically. "There are ways of professing one's love, lady, but destroying the purity of a princess - the sister of the king he hopes to bestow knighthood upon him - is NOT one of them!"

"I'm not saying I approve of that incident. Besides you cannot simply assume it was all his doing. They are both young and mistakes happen. What do you wish? The Earl marry her? If nothing is done then that is what will happen." Mae was growing angry with this petty argument. The lad knew he made a mistake.

"Have you spoken to the lass?" Deirdre asked, her temper stoked by Mae's fumes. "I have; even before Seth became my squire. She was quite resolved to have the Earl as her husband. In fact, I believe she had refused Seth outright." She turned her icy gaze upon the squire. "Did she refuse you this time, Seth? Answer honestly, for I could never squire a man who..." Her voice choked, unable to continue.

"You know of nothing the Princess feels." Mae spat. She had spoken with the girl earlier this very day.

Seth spoke up and said, "I ask you both not to fight. The Princess only said that because she was under threat that I would be killed if she denied him. She loves me and I love her. She was trying to protect me,

Lady Deirdre. That is how much she loves me." Seth awaited any response.

Deirdre stared at both for a long time before finally sitting heavily upon a wooden chair. Her face smoothed, as if coming to a decision. "Are you certain of this threat, Seth, and of the lady's feelings?" she finally asked, her tone and manner suddenly calm. "Do you have any ideas who would do such a thing?"

"Aye, the Lady has confessed that to me as well. The villain in this whole saga is the Earl. He has clearly abused his power over people." Mae turned to Deirdre. "I am not fighting with you, Dame. We need your support in this endeavor. You of all people should know how important it is to follow one's heart." Her eyes did not falter from Deirdre's gaze. She had heard of the rumors floating through the castle.

Deirdre swallowed, but showed no other acknowledgement of that very tender spot of hers. Hers was a special case, after all. "What do you need of me? Short of doing away with the Earl..." she added suggestively, but with a hint of amusement in her eyes.

Mae's stern posture relaxed a little and a comical smirk hinted across her face. "Nay not that. You are his knight and he your squire. Teach him to joust, Seth must beat the Earl in a tournament." She looked at the pair, relieved that things were looking brighter.

Seth nodded with an extremely serious look on his face and said, "I'll train hard. You have my promise that all and any efforts will be doubled. I love her and will do whatever it takes." This was the only other time he had ever been this serious. The other time was on the battlefield not too long ago.

Deirdre shook her head. "Seth, you don't understand. Jousting isn't a skill you can pick up in a day... or a week. It takes years of practice just to keep the lance steady and controlled after impact." She ran a hand through her hair. "How long do we have?"

"A month perhaps. The King will grant us our time in court this afternoon." Mae looked at Deidre and back at Seth. "You will pull through boy, God willing."

"How well do you swim?"

The voice came almost out of nowhere, and Seth turned round quickly, though he had recognized it almost as she spoke. The High Knight of Fire's voice took on a iron-clad tone when she taught; she was someone who brooked no argument and was willing to take as much as she gave. If you ever got the chance to turn things round on her.

"I'm pretty good. What would you have me do?" Seth asked not sure what she was getting at.

"Come with me," she answered simply, turning and walking away. She led him down a trail to a narrowing portion of the river nearby. It took a moment for Seth to realize that it was very close to the waterfall where he had met Bronwen so often.

Handing him a sword she had left on the bank, she strode into the river until the waters were almost to her waist. "Come on in," she called, holding her own sword above the water.

He took the sword and folowed suit. He noticed the water was still quite cold. "Why are we doing this?" He asked trying to be respectful.

Grinning, she took a gentle practice swing with her blade. "Simple," she replied, getting into an offensive posture in warning. "Sometimes you aren't lucky enough to fight on a flat plain or on dry ground," she explained, suddenly swinging. Seth blocked the blow, grunting with the effort of responding so quickly. "Wet rocks underfoot," she continued, emphasizing each phrase with a blow, "Uneven terrain, and other such things are often a problem."

"I see," He said simply while continung to block every blow having to adjust how he would normally fight due to the terrain change. He never knew this could be so difficult. He would have to do this again so he would not be so vulnerable while fighting in the water. He began to get accustomed to a small degree.

"Now," she continued, noticing that he was becoming a little more comfortable with the cool water, began movnig around him slowly. "Try moving more. You'll have to be careful - it's almost like moving in slow motion."

Seth moved making sure of his footing as he went on the attack the best he could due to the water. He was amazed at how hard this was, but he knew it was needed. She was a good knight, he had no question of that.

Moving backwards into the deeper water, Deirdre couldn't help but smile. He was a quick learner - perhaps quicker than even she had been when she had been on his end of the lesson. It wasn't until the chill river waters were swirling around her chest that she halted their descent.

Except for a few overhand blows that were easily warded off, Deirdre concentrated on keeping his blade and arms under the water. She could see his muscles straining against the water to keep his blade moving at even half the speed he was accustomed to; her own arms were beginning to tire from the strain. She took it easy on him - all of his reflexes were off, after all.

"Shall we break?" she asked finally, unable to keep from gasping.

"Sounds good," he said with a smile and he was obviously winded as well. He exited the water and offered her a hand up. He was grateful for the training, since he had obviously benefitted.

Taking his hand, the knight arose from the water, her clothes and hair sopping with water. "We should get inside before we both catch our death of cold," Deirdre cautioned, smiling at the loud squishing sound emitting from her boots as she walked towards her horse. Thorn seemed to look at her critically, as if to say, 'You really don't intend on riding me like _that_, do you?'

Seth nodded and said, "Thank you for that training today. It was needed and very good for me to learn those skills." He had to admit, he was having fun. That was just how he looked at some things. If it were for life or death he would be serious and if he was training then it would be serious as well. He wanted to be able to have fun though, it was in his nature.

Deirdre shook her head in surprise. "I mustn't have worked you hard enough, then. I definitely didn't have the energy to thank my teacher when he taught me this lesson," she smiled. "Or I'm getting old," she added with a laugh as she swung up on her steed.

"Race you back to the stables?"

He laughed at her comment of getting old. He jumped at the chance for adventure and said, "You're on." He kicked his horse into gear after he leapt up onto him and began racing back towards the castle with all of his might.

Feeling free for the first time in weeks, Deirdre tailed Seth, not really pushing her mount hard enough to overtake him. For a few minutes, she was free not to think about all the things that had been weighing upon her ever since she had returned to Abertawe. Her cheeks pink with exertion and excitement, she looked for the first time to Seth as young as she was.

"That was great," she laughed, swinging off her stallion. "But we should oil our blades before the waters of the river destroy them," she added, more seriously.

Seth smiled and said, "That was great and I agree, we should oil our blades right away." Seth had been able to tell she had had a lot in her side of the court, but she was really something to balance everything like she did.

Letting Seth lead the way into the warm stable, Deirdre only then noticed how cool the air was against her damp clothing. She shivered involuntarily. She supposed she had just been having too much fun - odd as that was - to notice. She granted Seth a rare, heartfelt smile. She was starting to be very glad she had been talked into squiring this man.

Seth smiled and asked, "Until tommorrow?" He figured since they were all wet and such it might be a good idea to call it a day. He had had a great deal of fun after he was able to get used to the water. Granted he would have to train like that some more to get it down, but such was life.

Nodding, Deirdre handed her reins to Seth. "Good luck with the horses," she said with an amused gleam in her eyes. "And I'll see you bright and early tomorrow morning."

Seth smirked and said,"I'll be ready." He walked off to get himself wet as Diedre undoubtedly did the same.

A Messenger found Seth just as he was leaving the guard house. The boy led a draft horse pulling a wagon with six long poles wrapped in cloth. He handed the scroll to Seth and waited patiently for him to read the missive. The scroll was sealed with a strange red waxed seal.

Squire McCullen,

Having heard of your upcoming confrontation with Earl Sanglet, I find that I must contribute in some way to your struggle. The earl is a man who has abused his power over the years, and I simply cannot allow him to further enshrine his cruelty by marrying directly into the line of nobility. To this effect, I have sent you six crafted lances from lands beyond our borders. Three of these may be used in training, while three are especially for use during the event. I believe you already have enough assistance to learn how to wield them. You will find them lightweight, strong, and in the case of the training lances, particulary resilient.

Should you choose to accept these tokens of my faith in your deeds, then I shall be well pleased. I regret not being able to meet you in person, but the Earl has eyes everywhere. Thus I would prefer to see him fail first.

My strength is yours.

Duke Morial
Keeper of the Sacred Grove

Seth was astonished at this act of giving and that aprently others carried some of the same thoughts about Sanglett as he did. He would get to training tommorrow. He had to learn how to joust and well.

A sickle moon bathed the clearing in a wan light. The ghosts of flowers -- their broken and cracked pistils atop dry stems -- stood as sentinels in the calm night. Only the occasional whisper from the bare cottonwoods and old oaks that lined the clearing gave any hint that the air moved.

Pwyll sat on his pony beneath the canopy of branches that marked the edge of the clearing. The chill in the fall air and smell of the forest was comforting after the stink of the castle and its surrounds. He had ridden to this meeting place far from the main roads and now waited silently. He did not have to wait long. "You know you make the noise of a dozen cattle when you travel Madoc?" he said into the seemingly empty night around him.

"And you smell like a perfumed fart a half-league off Pwyll," came the response from the woods to his right.

His brother Madoc stepped into view from behind a large oak. Four of his tribesmen materialized from the woods beside him. "If it hadn't been for little Coch's noisy knee, you would have jumped off your horse in fright at our arrival."

"That would have been a bad thing, Madoc. For there would have been five fewer heads in Llywarch's hall if you had." With a broad grin on his face he dismounted and embraced his brother.

"Ach, Lad! Keep your distance! The smell will stay on me for weeks," Madoc joked as he held Pwyll at arms length. "Now how's the life of a court fairy treating you?" he said as his men brought up a small cask.

"Well. It's not all it's cracked up to be my brother. The nobles all prance about the great hall like a bunch of old queens, bowing and scraping, while they butter up the King's arse with false complements. His right hand man is an unholy terror with his lessons of court behavior -- it's always 'bow this way, and blow you nose that way'. But the women! That's the worst of it. Skinny as willow branches, and dressed in such sackcloth that you'd never know there was a teat to be had in the whole bunch. Why, if it weren't for the whores I'd go absolute mad!"

Pwyll paused to take a long draught from the horn handed to him. "Gods, that's good! Like the milk of the Mother, that is! The shite they serve at the inns in the town is as pale as piss, and about as appealing."

The six men laughed together.

"And how does my dear Madoc and Caer Cochbreoedd fair these days?" Pwyll asked, taking a second long pull from the horn.

"I wish the news was all fair, but I have some sad tidings. We lost father's stepbrother Cydifor in a raid on a church up towards Nevehyr. He only took three horses and some silver plate from the churchmen, but one of those bastards bowed him down anyway. We took a blood price by using their church as his pyre. There was so much good in the man it took three days to burn."

"Ah! Sad news it is. Cydifor was a good man. He could always hit his mark with an axe, and never shied from a fight," Pwyll remarked in a subdued voice. "Was his daughter Gwyn with him?"

"Aye. It was she who killed the bowman, and insisted on the pyre." Madoc himself took a long drink before continuing. "Not all the news is bad though. Plenty of cattle have been taken out of the Nethbo border regions over the past month, and the danegeld we've been collecting in the north continues to increase. Unfortunately, as the danegeld has gone up, the amount of cattle we take there has declined. I think I would prefer the cattle to gold."

"But gold's a marvelous thing. It buys drink, men, food, and even cattle," Pwyll countered.

"Aye. But I have yet to see two coins breed a third."

"That's only because you haven't put them in the right purse." Pwyll chuckled at Madoc's puzzled look.

"Ach! Listen to you! You sound like some riddling old hag."

Pwyll let it drop. He had seen the merchants 'breeding' coins, and he intended to try his hand at it soon enough. "Any other tidings?"

"Aye. It seems Ieuaf the Fat is ready to ally with Caer Cochbreoedd -- I think your young king may have had something to do with that."

"King or no', you can't trust that fat bastard, Madoc. His son's a'right, but that pig Ieuaf wouldn't be worth dung as an ally," Pwyll spat.

Madoc grunted thoughtfully, and the six were quiet for a moment.

"Where have you put the cattle?" Pwyll asked.

"They're in a small gully about a mile from here -- six of them. I left Madyn to guard them. You're sure you can get them into the market without trouble?"

"Aye. I met a fine guard who drinks well, but gambles badly. You'll bring the cattle through the east gate of the town tonight, after the moon sets. The guard expects you. Be sure to pass him two shillings when you enter. The market is right next to the gate, so the sound won't arouse anyone."

"And if the guard gives us trouble?" Madoc asked.

Pwyll shrugged, "He took an oath, Madoc, and you know the worth of and oath-breaker."

The day had reached early afternoon when Grathorn stopped the tiny caravan. There would be another hour's ride before they arrived at their destination, and quite stubbornly, Avalynn had refused to don proper dress until the very last moment. So while the two women struggled with the simple task of suiting up, Grathorn settled himself against the earth. From where he sat, he could easily hear the pair converse, and an occasional glance was thrown in their direction--just in case a body part or two escaped the shielding tree.

"What the bloody hell, Lae! Yer tryin' to kill me!" Came a strong growl from behind the oak.

"Close your ale hole. This is how they're supposed to fit."

"Not on me, they don't!"

"Oh yes they do!" Lae exclaimed as she shoved her knee into the other woman's back. The strings were then yanked several times. Furiously.

"Not un--ugh--less you want your eye---umph--eyes pecked out by Tashir."

"Don't you threaten me, Ava. I'll slap that bird out of the sky like---" There was a loud smack and then a short pause before a female erupted in a storm of awful phrases and pounding fists "You dirty nag! I cannot believe...! Look! You left a fat welt!"

"You ARE a fat welt, Laera," came the scoffed reply.

"Oohh... I'll rip your eyes out with my own fingernails! I don't need a bloody winged demon to do it for me you crusty pile of--"

"Hag-licker!"
"Goat-kisser!"
"Pig fart!"
"Wart-eater!"
"HAH! Two-cent cow-raping whore! I couldn't find dung cheaper than you!"
"Why! You---"

"LADIES!" Shouted Grathorn sternly. He hadn't moved from his spot, but he was the sort that could easily put a tone to his voice, and so he did. "They should've known not to send Laera," he muttered to himself. The two women were practically at war. But then again, even amongst the terror of constant catfights, no one was closer to Avalynn ui Rylliach than Laera. How could anyone? Ava held people back with the fervor of ten men... not to mention a spiked club.

"Erm... just a few more moments..." Avalynn grumbled from behind the oak.

After what seemed another half hour, the two discontented females appeared, decked from head to toe in fine fabrics. Grathorn examined them with his iron gaze, obviously more interested in Avalynn's protruding bounty than the bodice that held her. "Good, good. Climb into yer saddles and let us go," he said gruffly.

With a sickened shudder, Ava was the first to respond. Grathorn's blatant staring was certainly not uncommon to either women. "I cant believe that driveling hog wanted to take me as his wife," she whispered to Lae, striding toward the horses.

"Nor I!" Replied the other.

With a quiet laugh to themselves, the women climbed into their saddles. Avalynn, disgusted with her skirts, tried clutching them about her knees while maintaining the reigns, but a hungry glance from Grathorn quickly halted that idea. Laera simply shook her head in defeat.

And so in this fashion the five-horse, three-(wo)man caravan merely plodded its way toward Abertawe's fine castle.

"No, I swear it. Esyld, my maid, told me herself. She was talking to one of the women in Sanglet's house. He is furious. He and the General caught the princess practically in the act. " Aignéis said earnestly.

"I can hardly believe it. Why, we all saw how the Earl dotes on her. She has had his eye for so long. Why, she quits speaking whenever he is in her presence. I know she favored him, at least, she did?" Gemma shook her head in surprise. "With a common guardsman? What could she be thinking? I mean, I have seen the man and he is handsome, but to risk home and hearth for a tumble in a cave?"

Aignéis smiled. "Well, she doesn't have the best example. Why look at our King Regent, it is said he has taken that healer as his mistress and it is rumored he will take her to wife. I would not wish to be in his shoes should he do that. He will lose the support of many of the nobles here in court. It JUST isn't done."

"Do you think that is why he hasn't been crowned?" Gemma asked with a frown.

"I am sure of it. What do you think they will do to the princess?" Aignéis had never liked Bronwen with her soft spoken ways and gentle superiority. "Do you think they will make it public and try the guardsman?"

"No, her family will try to keep it quiet I think." Gemma pitied the princess. Her father must have been fearsome with anger. "They will marry her off before she can show a child from such a careless act. I wonder if the Earl will still have her?"

"I wouldn't. Why she might be carrying that guardsman's bastard." It was no secret that Aignéis wanted the Earl herself.

The two women moved off. The two courtiers that had been sitting nearby looked at each other with wide eyes. As the women moved off, they began to whisper furiously. So it was, that the Princess' secret shame became court public knowledge.

Amlyn knelt before the King, for the third time. And again, it was a different person. Neither the wounded man of sickness from the first occasion, or the enraged soldier of passion from the second. He still wore cured leather boots and pants, but his black tabard complete with red tau cross was missing. In its place, a dark blue coathardie with simple trim over a plain white shift. He bore no coat of arms. By his side hung a thin, silver sword. He waited for Hawk to allow him to stand.

Hawk waited a moment, then he allowed the knight to rise. "Tell me what happened." he said gravely.

"My lord," he began. "I apologise for disobeying your instructions with regards to the Order of the White Shield." He nodded as if to affirm his next choice of words. "I have no excuse for the action I took, and I accept any judgement you wish to hand down in this regard." Finished, he then watched the King, grim-faced and silent for whatever may come.

Hawk had had time to think about this, so he had an answer ready: "I would like you to stay here and become one of my knights. That way I can judge if you are again a worthy knight. You will therefore start in a lowly position."

The king's answer brought a flicker of a wry smile from Amlyn. "I am a soldier, my lord. I have no concern for title or prestige. I... appreciate that I still have much to prove before I may be considered... responsible enough to gain thy confidence." He chose his words carefully. 'Worthy' was always a term he regarded as being subjective.

Hawk looked at the other man for a moment, realising that he meant it, "I think that is a very good idea, and I think you and I might still become good friends." He smiled and held out his hand.

Amlyn appeared startled. He quickly glanced about the chamber, almost nervously, and made no effort at all to extend a hand in return. "My lord," he said, in a much quieter tone. "I do not wish to offend thee, but..." he shifted uncomfortably. "... as King, you will be above all. Your people, your soldiers, your knights, all must see you as a person not only of fairness and grace, but as a entity of retribution and strength. I would not presume to be your friend, for you may find that in the future, that bond may make a necessary decision only more difficult." He shrugged his shoulders gently. "Your respect would be more than enough in return for my loyalty."

Hawk nodded, "That is fair enough, I`m sure you will do well given time and if you need me, my door is always open."

Before he could be dismissed, Amlyn straightened up and placed his good hand accross his chest. "I, Amlyn son of Berach, do solemnly swear and pledge my sword to thee, Lord Hawk, to defend and obey thy wishes, until thou should depart the throne or death shall take me," he announced solemly.

Hawk was touched but surprised by this unasked for show of support. In the weeks to come, he knew he would need a lot of support, with all that was going on.

"And I, for my part, do swear to defend and honour you Sir Amlyn, as befits a true knight."

"Thank you, my liege," said Amlyn. It had seemed to take an eternity to reach this point. "I must request some time for the next few months, as I feel I should get to know more about your lands, and the people who inhabit them."

"I suggest you try the library, and talk to the other knights. I am sure they will be willing to talk to you." The King suggested. "For now try to get settled in."

Amlyn bowed again, and slowly limped out of the King's chambers.