Out here, the Sea Shark cutting effortlessly through the vast silver surface of the Burning Sea, the problems that they had left behind them in Duskhallow, and the even greater ones that they, most surely, would face once they docked at Salt Bay, could be forgotten for the moment. Wynn Rhew Gaeaf, or, as she should now more properly be called, the Lady Wynn of Salain, was wearing a simple, but finely made kirtle of white, subtly accented with blue and black, to reflect the colours of her new family, for the crest of the House Salain was described by the Heralds of Brydd as: a castle argent over a fess azure on a field sable. The dress of her handmaiden, the irreverent, gaelic-babbling Angharad, was of that same blue, though of less costly cut.
Wynn had chosen to leave behind her armour, her weapons, her badges of rank, and, physically, her dragon. For now. It was meet. The enormous black, glowering beast Gruduux was still sulking anyway, ranging wide and free although never, ever out of the soul of the dragon-rider to whom he was bonded. For Wynn's song was as strong as his own, though oft times their pitches blended in a grating disharmony. He could not be trusted to behave in the land of the humans. Wynn could.
She turned now and, as the sea breeze ruffled her golden hair, looked up proudly at her husband and, for the first time, felt that she could fully relax: for as ardently as she loved him, he had been something of a bull in a china shop in her homeland, putting his foot in his mouth as often as she could pull it out for him. His concerns: for matters of rank and nobility, were not the concerns of her people: but some sort of noble lineage had been cobbled together, a great and unexpected help coming from that wily old forger Simeon, whom Aldebrand himself had once sentenced to death for clipping coin and forging documents. The bearded old crook could put together a line of descent that could virtually prove that the lowest beggar on the dock had a claim to the throne of Brydd itself!
Wynn.. Lady Wynn, put her arm through her Lord's and rested her head on his shoulder contentedly.
Suddenly, from behind them, the uncouth voice of Angharad cried out: "Anghenfil môr! Gallaf weld anghenfil môr!!"
Wynn immediately let go of her husband's arm, and before she could translate her lady-in-waiting's words for him a shrieking lookout high in the mast saved her the trouble: "Kraken!! Kraken off the starboard bow!!!"
Safiya's smile faded quickly, "I try not to think about things like that. War is men's business. Far too grim for me." In truth she always feared one day her father would become one of those unfortunates on some far off battlefield.
"But, dear Safiya, surely it behoves us to understand War, that we may best understand and support our eventual husbands?" Rigunth posited, which led on to a question.
"Are there any particular Knights we should look out for? I mean..." Rigunth looked slyly sideward at Safiya "... have you got a favourite?" she giggled.
"Oh....well they are a mixed lot to be honest. Some are quite grim fellows. A few even scare me though I think my father likes them scary that way."
"Mmm" agreed "I don't suppose you want to be leading an army of pretty charmers!"
"But there are nice ones too and a few even handsome. I find one called Pons to be most entertaining at a feast table. Oh and he has a fine voice too when they sing those war songs. Although some of the lyrics are most bawdy and even vile at times. All that drinking you know," Safiya answered in surprising detail.
Rigunth listened aghast. Safiya seemed to like the man. Uggh.
"Yes, I've...er... met, Sir Pons." What to say? The man was absolutely horrible to her at her lowest ebb, talk about kicking someone when they were down. She decided it was better, if you couldn't say anything nice about someone, to not say anything at all.
"What arms does he bear?! We might be able to spot his shield." Rigunth suggested brightly. At least Safiya wouldn't have to worry about a rival for Sir Pons' affections. Not that the knight, even if he was interested in the sloe eyed beauty, had a hope in Hell's chance: Safiya, like Rigunth, was just a pawn in the diplomatic games of powerful men: a pawn that was to be used to take a King or some other high ranking piece on the great eschec board of life, not a mere knight.
"I think I recognise your Father, just there at the front! I imagine he can't wait to get back and see the three extra stitches you have added to your tapestry!" the keen eyed girl chuckled.
Safiya turned and pretended to be outraged, "But those are very big stitches. And I had much to do around here since it addition to my regular duties as garrison commander I also had to guard a very dangerous prisoner. You might recognize her, if you look into a mirror."
That's when she grinned and gave a girlish laugh.
She knew Rigunth would want to leave and get back to her own folk - even Offo for some unfathomable reason - but she was going to miss the girl when that time came.
"... And all his splendid knights." Rigunth squinted with her hand shielding her eyes from the Sun. "Alack, I wonder how many shields have been left on the battlefield, how many knights on either side lie beneath them."
Safiya's smile faded quickly, "I try not to think about things like that. War is men's business. Far too grim for me." In truth she always feared one day her father would become one of those unfortunates on some far off battlefield.
"Are there any particular Knights we should look out for? I mean..." Rigunth looked slyly sideward at Safiya "... have you got a favourite?" she giggled.
"Oh....well they are a mixed lot to be honest. Some are quite grim fellows. A few even scare me though I think my father likes them scary that way. But there are nice ones too and a few even handsome. I find one called Pons to be most entertaining at a feast table. Oh and he has a fine voice too when they sing those war songs. Although some of the lyrics are most bawdy and even vile at times. All that drinking you know," Safiya answered in surprising detail.
"You know this might mean that negotiations will commence and you can gain your release from captivity? I will speak for this with my father, rest assured. I can be very convincing," she smiled.
"Do you really think so, dear Safiya?" quizzed rigunth with a slight frown, turning her gaze from the approaching army to her friend on the balcony, for she no longer thought of the girl as her jailor. In fact, she had not thought of her in that way since the very day that she had been brought to this bustling town and castle.
"Although, I will miss you, you know. my dear friend." The words were sincere too.
Rigunth smiled and turned back to the sight of the army.
"I think I recognise your Father, just there at the front! I imagine he can't wait to get back and see the three extra stitches you have added to your tapestry!" the keen eyed girl chuckled; for it had become a standing joke that Safiya would find any excuse not to work on the blasted thing.
"... And all his splendid knights." she squinted with her hand shielding her eyes from the Sun. "Alack, I wonder how many shields have been left on the battlefield, how many knights on either side lie beneath them."
She hadn't forgotten that horrible Sir Pons and, well, it wasn't really a nice thing to think, but she rather hoped he was one of them. It would have been easy to see by the shields, had they not been slung back or in leather covers, for a rudimentary form of heraldry existed up here, but nothing as sophisticated at the system in the South, in the Kingdom of Brydd, where professional heralds could tell you who any knight was by a mere glance at his arms and could describe a shield exactly using a convoluted nomenclature all of their own..
"Are there any particular Knights we should look out for? I mean..." Rigunth looked slyly sideward at Safiya "... have you got a favourite?" she giggled.
A messenger had arrived at the castle only a few hours earlier and ever since the entire place was a bee hive of activity. The rider had announced Sartell's lord and his army were marching toward the fortress, fresh from a victorious campaign. There would of course have to be a celebratory banquet that evening so the kitchen scullions were busy preparing such a feast.
The daughter of Lord Tancred, Safiya, was beside herself with excitement. She and her father were truly close and the news meant he was not only safe from harm but he had won another victory against the pretender Offo. Hopefully losses were low. The brunette beauty hastened to wear her finest gown, she believed it to be her father's favorite not that he would ever say such a thing aloud.
She and Rigunth had become friends since her forced arrival, the girl had had the run of the castle and the pair had spent much time together sharing in a variety of activities. Safiya was quite fond of the girl. The fact that their families were enemies mattered little to her. So naturally they both stood upon the battlements overlooking the main gate and watched the steady approach of the army snaking down the winding dirt road. The weather was as bright as Safiya's mood.
"You know this might mean that negotiations will commence and you can gain your release from captivity? I will speak for this with my father, rest assured. I can be very convincing," she smiled.
"Although, I will miss you, you know. my dear friend." The words were sincere too.
OOC: Good place to end this one.
"So Eustace, are you defying my wishes or are you just a dolt?" he inquired of the man. Tancred was not a man who tolerated such acts of defiance lightly.
Sir Eustace stood forward.
"Just a dolt, My Lord, my apologies. And Sir Raynulf de Fiennes, my apologies for so stupidly revealing your identity as the utterer of calumnies against a damsel. I hope you will accept them, but if not, your gauntlet, I see is to hand."
Ancelin diffused this escalating situation by interjecting his acceptance of Tancred's grudging offer.
"I will gladly accept your offer, my Lord." said the priest quietly "... and look forward to travelling to Sartell once again, in such excellent and chivalrous company." He looked especially at Sir Raynard as he said this.
Raynard glared but said nothing. He did not like this damned priest. And he too was annoyed with Eustace unwelcome contribution to the conversation.
There was no love lost between Eustace and Raynard, that was true. However, both had fought bravely against Irongron: both had rents in their mail hauberks and coifs, notches in their sword blades, dents in their casques and chunks hacked out of their kite shaped shields which attested to their bravery in the service of Tancred their feudal lord.
"Yes, don't tell him your name, Raynard!" called the saturnine and bearded Sir Eustace d'Arfleur from the back of the throng.
Tancred eyes went to the fellow, he had just clearly expressed his wish the priest not learn Raynard's name. This was deliberate of Eustace.
"So Eustace, are you defying my wishes or are you just a dolt?" he inquired of the man. Tancred was not a man who tolerated such acts of defiance lightly.
But Tancred was ready to end this audience with the priest and contented himself to make an offer for the man to journey with the army back to Sartell.
"I will gladly accept your offer, my Lord." said the priest quietly "... and look forward to travelling to Sartell once again, in such excellent and chivalrous company." He looked especially at Sir Raynard as he said this.
Raynard glared but said nothing. He did not like this damned priest. And he too was annoyed with Eustace unwelcome contribution to the conversation.
And with that the parley was adjourned. Tancred wished for nothing more but to get out of this damned chain mail armor and sleep.
Raynard grunted, "So you are going to go back like a child tattle tale? Does that make you feel like you are championing her?"
The little priest shrugged. "It is hardly the place of a priest to champion the honour of a helpless damsel; that is the privilege and duty of a Knight, I believe. Sir...?"
Tancred shook his head, "Tell him nothing. There are many rumors some of Offo's kin and mayhaps even offspring practice witchcraft."
"Yes, don't tell him your name, Raynard!" called the saturnine and bearded Sir Eustace d'Arfleur from the back of the throng. It was rare for him to talk at all; he usually kept his own council unless specifically asked for his opinion by the man to whom he owed fealty.
"You, priest, I give you a chance to go on with us and join me at my castle. You may dine with me and my daughter, oh and Rigunth too. That should prove she is properly taken care of."
"A noble offer!" commented Sir Eustace and it seemed perhaps flattery toward Tancred, but to the Ancelin, the steady voice amongst the boastful raillery of the other captains seemed a prompt that he should accept.
"But if that is not to your liking, then go back to Offo. Tell him this war will not last forever and I expect to win."
"I will gladly accept your offer, my Lord." said the priest quietly "... and look forward to travelling to Sartell once again, in such excellent and chivalrous company." He looked especially at Sir Raynard as he said this.
The priest stooped down to pick up the balled up document. Tancred watched him but said nothing. The paper was worthless given the words on it, or rather who had sent it. Offo would have to do better than that.
"I shall certainly let the lady know of your words, gentlemen, your chivalry and fine wit should not be withheld from the world... and from their object especially." He looked at Sir Raynard "May I ask your name in particular, Sir, for the young woman should especially know of your pleasantries."
Raynard grunted, "So you are going to go back like a child tattle tale? Does that make you feel like you are championing her?"
Tancred shook his head, "Tell him nothing. There are many rumors some of Offo's kin and mayhaps even offspring practice witchcraft."
"You, priest, I give you a chance to go on with us and join me at my castle. You may dine with me and my daughter, oh and Rigunth too. That should prove she is properly taken care of."
"But if that is not to your liking, then go back to Offo. Tell him this war will not last forever and I expect to win."