Ill winds muddy the waters

The ride through Silchester lands was a quiet one. The counties knights who had ridden as their warders returned along with them in a more friendly gesture, with both sides having reaffirmed the desire for peace. No further raids seemed to have struck on either side of the border, but trouble was once more ahead of them. Riding immediately for Sarum, the band of knights drew up warily on reaching the stables. Sir Dolwyn, the resident hippophile was the first and keenest to observe the foreign horses contentedly resting by the great hall. Laquered bow cases and overstuffed quivers of arrows still hung from saddles of unfamiliar construction, and in their midst were horses in more familiar Cymric tack – but unknown to Salisbury’s knights.

Cautiously seizing hold of Sir Oswlad the herald, the group made careful efforts to speak privately to the Lady Ellen and update her of goings on in Silchester – not least the swearing of Duke Ulfius’ oath to his new overlord. By the reports of Lady Ellens sister, (carried in secrecy by one knight alne to prevent their being carelessly spread) the Dukes oath had been sworn before the Saxon gods, and not by the christian or pagan ones loved by Logres. Lady Ellen absorbed this information as best she could, and then filled in details of the visitors at court. Sir Caddor of Cornwall with his loyal knights was present, a mercenary for hire since the death of duke Gorlois and a man of fearsome reputation. Also present and seeking coin for his strength at arms was Preator Syagrius of Gaul, along with a group of savage Hunnish horse-archers.

Returning with the Lady, the knights quickly settled down to seek out what rumours these visitors carried, and why they had come to Sarum at such an inauspicous time. Duke Idriss of Amaurica, in the absence of a stronger contender, had declared himself to be king of Cornwall, and was busily subduing his rivals and pressing against Jagent and Somerset for lands lost in the chaos. Sir Caddor was unsure of this new lord, and had absented himself rather than bend knee to a man he did not fully trust. Syagrius was present simply to fight for the highest bidder, and was interested to hear what offer Salisbury might make with war looming on the horizon.

With so ample an opportunity before him, Sir Sewyl made quick work of announcing a series of duels he intended to host – a way to satisfy the militant urges of the assembled knights in an orderly and controlled manner, and to call for donations towards a church and house of healing which he planned to build. While discussion of this made its way around court, Oswlad burst through the doors to declare once more “Saxons! Saxon armies approach milords! Three great hordes of the brutes!”

Wasting no time, Sir Maddog ordered him at once to seek clearer information, knowing from past experience that the heralds count could be wildly inaccurate at times. Looking terrified at the prospect of riding out to seek a truer account alone, Sir Brychan took pity in the interests of moving the man along and suggested that scouts would be a sensible approach to the matter. Much relieved and free of his moment of paralysis, Oswlad immediately set about his task.

In short order, it was confirmed that three parties of Saxons approached, though each was but a handful of men. They came separately and were making a clear effort to remain so as they came on. Further word confirmed them as envoys of the kings of Wessex, Sussex and Essex. Hurried preparations were made – the visiting knights were asked to retire, and the Huns led outside to speak with Sir Dolwyn on the matter of horses… and to distract that knights almost rabid hatred of the Saxon people. Cautiously the three groups were allowed to the hall of Sarum, with wary knights surrounding them as they came into the presence of the young Earl Robbert.

The first to speak was Prince Aescwine of Essex, who demanded double tribute within two months, or the armies of Essex would descend and burn all of Salisbury to ash. Only a brief discussion was needed before he was coldly informed that Sarum was not intimidated by the empty threats of false kings form lands so distant no one cared what ill formed words they chose to spew forth

Even as the abrupt and ill tempered Aescwine prepared to leave, Sir Maddog took it upon himself to speak a few final words before sending him on his way; a curse on Aescwine and all his family, that he should never know the joy of parenthood – stricken barren by the gods.

Within the hall, the more controlled and well spoken Prince Cynric of Wessex declared he was happy to await the pleasure of the young Earl, or his mother, until after their business with the envoy from Sussex was concluded.

Sparks thus struck, the young prince of Sussex stepped forward to imperiously demand, in the wake of Essex’s similar call, for three times the tribute they had already requested. Blustering and threatening dire consequences, he appeared not to notice the darkening brow of Sir Brychan until the knight stood almost nose to nose with the small Saxon. Ominously, Brychan said “Boy, you would do better to stay silent until you can stand as proudly as your bodyguards, if never as tall. When you are old enough to grow a real beard, seek me out with a sword in hand and cross blades with Sir Brychan the Wolfsbane. Until then, cease your yapping.”

Disgruntled and deflated, the Sussex Aeteling stepped away, and Brychan returned to his place in the crowd. With lines drawn in the sand, much to discuss, and two parties of Saxons hostile to one another in the house the precaution of bread and salt was taken, each leader eating before the others watchful gaze. The symbolism done, each retired to their bedchambers, as far apart as could be, while the knights settled down for a long night of urgent talk.

In the morning the Prince of Sussex was approached in a more conciliatory manner; whilst he may be a yapping fool, fis father ( King Aelle ) was well known to have a bite for worse than his bark. A message would follow within two weeks to state a full and considered response.

Our story continues …

Main Page

And Watch the Ripples

Sir Neys and Sir Brychan were both woken unexpectedly from their respective beds just before the sun rose to begin another spring morning. In their own castles, they both heard similar news. “My lord! Our neighbours have been pillaged by the Levocomagus! They send for aid!”
They both rode out to aid their neighbours, as their conscience demanded, and they both bought a contingent of men. As their neighbour’s manors came into view, they were met with a sight of ruin and pillage, thatch was aflame and men lay wounded in the street.

Upon arrival, Sir Neys barreled straight into the manor house with such speed and force that for a startled moment, the lord of the land thought the raiders had returned! After Sir Neys men had found the Lord locked and barred in his sleeping chamber and explained who he was, the righteous knight of the lord set about preparing in case the brigands returned, as well as preventing the fires that had been set from spreading.

Sir Brychan however, took a different approach, seeing the smallfolk in such turmoil was something he could not just ride past, so he set about organising the men in lines to pass water buckets to the fire more effectively, and having the foresight to focus on extinguishing the grain before and houses, for houses would not feed the village! He designated a stable nearby as a medical bay, and organised several of the town’s young boys as runners to accompany his men as the stood lookout in case the Levocomagus returned.

Only then did Sir Brychan go to speak with the Lord of the manor.

Both Knights decided that they would bring news of the raids to their liege lords, and then to Sarum. Sir Ursal was especially displeased with the news of the raids, demanding their heads on spits before the day was through. Sir Brychan stated that he would see what he could do, before riding to Sarum to bring new to Lady Ellen.

The two knights met just outside of Sarum as the sun was setting. They were greeted by Sir Oswelad, his voice now a full octave deeper and a sparse moustache now definitely visible upon his face. When the herald of Sarum heard the news of the raids, he was obviously flustered. “Raids? Is it the Saxons? Oh my Lord Jesus, what are we to do?”

Sir Brychan replied calmly but urgently “Levocomagus. What knights are here already?”
“Few my lord, it is too early for spring court! We have about six knights and their squires and double that number of archers”
“Very well, I must talk woth Lady Ellen, Sir Oswelad. Time is of the essence,”
“Of course my Lord, she will be able to see you first thing tomorrow!”
Sir Brychan sighed, “Give my lady my apologies for disturbing her but I need to talk with her today.” He told the young knight in a voice that could not be refused.
As Sir Oswelad scarpered to summon Lady Ellen, Sir Brychan noticed how Sir Neys had been struck suddenly mute when his faculties to lead were called into question. Sir Brychan felt almost as if the young knight had passed him the responsibility.

Two hours later, Lady Ellen descended from her upstairs chambers, looking glamorous in a new dress on it’s test run before the Spring Court.
“Greetings my loyal knights. What news do you bring me?”

Once again Sir Brychan sighed at Sir Oswelad’s incompetence. He relayed the information to Lady Ellen, who was angered that she had not been told of the urgency of the news before spending two hours having her maids plait her hair.
“So you both were attacked on the same day, early in the morning in two different hunreds?” she observed.
As the three talked about what to do, or rather Lady Ellen and Sir Brychan talked while Sir Neys listened meekly, Sir Dolwyn was announced by Sir Oswelad, obviously come early to sponge the free food off his liege lady.

As reports flooded in, the raids seemed more and more strange, Chalke and Testside had both been raided, but not Branch & Dole which lay between the two, and would need to be passed through to get to Chalke. Also the raids happened on the same day, and as any knight worth their salt would know, while raiding, one would not want to hang around waiting for anything, so why did the two hundreds get raided on the same day despite the differences in distance to the Levocomagus? What’s more, when the raiders were sighted, they fled from persuers on foot, turned back and slaughtered those on horses, or raced towards the southern border, the infamous no man’s land between Salisbury and the Saxons.

With the reports came the knights, and soon the same group of adventurers who slayed Sir Herbert of Testside were all gathered. When Lady Ellen asked her knights what they should do, surprisingly the group did not suggest a bloody solution. They smelt something fishy and would rather talk to Lord Ulfius of Silchester, rather than reacting and beginning a long and bloody war between the two already decimated kingdoms.

Shortly after this course of action was agreed upon, Lady Ellen decided that Sir Herbert’s executors were best suited to this task, as well as Sir Brychan, to lend experience, and Sir Neys and Sir Sewyl to teach them a thing or two about how the rules of courtesy worked in the real world.

While the group was discussing the route they should take, Sir Maddog asked for a private word with Lady Ellen, graciously she accepted and the wild eyed knight told the Countess that he firmly believed that the head of Herbert of Testside would be incredibly important in securing a peaceful resolution to this predicament. Lady Ellen looked slightly confused but acquiesced and ordered that the tarred leathery head be taken off it’s spike and handed to the oddest of knights. He took it gently and passed it to his squire who placed it in a leather sack and took it away.

Meanwhile, the assassins cum ambassadors discussed which path to the heart of Silchester, to talk to the Duke. They decided that to travel through Levocomagus would be suicidal, and to travel through Andover would be their only real option. Lord Iolyn of Andover is known to be a loyal man Sir Cecily duDepeden, but he is also known to the least likely to attack without direct provocaiton. Hoping to avoid a confrontation with the Steward of Hundreds of Levcomagus, they would set out, branches of peace held up high.

Shortly before they leave, Sir Caddock was talking to a fellow knight about the events, when suddenly the knight roared in protest!

“Sir Ursal is the most fit to rule he has ever been you knave, and I will have you fight for those words of slander! These raiders would have come even if deTourney still held these lands, and the damage would have been twice as bad!”

The fight was taken outside and the trial by combat began. While the knight was still shouting to the crowd about the efficacy of Sir Ursal’s rule, he kept only half an eye of deTourney’s loyal creature. Which is one and a half eyes too few. Sir Caddock swung his sword fast as lightning, the blade of the unprepared knight just made it between the incoming blade and the knight’s face, but was ripped from his grasp by the force of the blow. Keeping the momentum, a second swing looped around and bashed the knight on his hastily raised shield, crunching it into his head and knocking the knight unconscious. Sir Caddock stood over the slumped body with his sword drawn for a long time, deciding the knight’s fate before stating to the hushed crowd that he believed the matter was settled. He raised his sword… slid it into his scabbard, and stalked off into the dusk. Many knights felt both impressed and sick at the ferocity with which Sir Caddock laid into the poor household knight of Chalke.

The next day saw the peace envoy setting off for Andover. However, their path takes them past Sir Hewel’s residence, and hospitality calls that they must ask his permission to ride through his lands. A delighted Sir Hewel showered the group with considerably rich gifts, and warm welcomes. Sir Maddog asked for a box, Sir Sewyl recieved a fine cloak, as did Sir Neys, Sir Caddock & Sir Olivier. Sir Dolwyn was gifted for a horses harness and Sir Briant asked for a quiver. All of these gifts were of a superb quality and either lined with silk or engraved with beautiful symbols of the three major religions of the land, Pagan, British Christian and Roman Christian. Sir Brychan tried to refuse gifts of any sort, but when he realised that Sir Hewel would not let them continue until they had all accepted, he asked for a modest something. Sir Maddog spoke up and said how Sir brychan had been complaining about his boots on the ride over, and that a nice new pair in his favoured colour, crimson, would suit him nicely. This was accompanied by Sir Sewyl chanting ‘Red Boots’ in the least musical way possible. Sir Brychan quickly asked for one of the cloaks instead, not willing to nurture this bizarre rumour by actually wearing red boots!

Before long the men had passed into Levocomagus territory and were riding as fast as they could to make up for the time spent stopping at every manor. After a short while it was decided that for smaller manors, squires would suffice to let the lords know of the knight’s passing. Harold and Hewel, squires of Sir Maddog and Sir Dolwyn were designated. Sir Maddog told his young cousin that he was in charge, to be polite but firm, and to tell the castle that a peace envoy was passing through the lands. Maddog always found it distracting talking to Harold, his lazy eye and slack jaw were most disconcerting.

As the squires splintered off towards the manor house, a group of mounted men came thundering out, with weapons not directly pointing at the men, but not exactly in a resting position. When they were hailed the two squires bumbled.

“We are here to let your lord know that our lords are riding through your land in a peaceful manner, we wish to take your hospitality… do we want to take hospitality? … No we want bread and salt I think… is that ok? Do you have any on you? … oh well um what shall we do instead?” They glanced helplessly at each other.

By now the guards were looking a lot more relaxed, with their spears resting at their sides. One of them patted the lad on the shoulder and said “Don’t you worry about it, son. We’ll offer you our hospitality, here’s some water and a bit of bread, do you want to come and water yours horses or something?”

This simple question led to even more dithering from Harold and Hewel until they arrived at the consensus that no, they should probably be getting back to their lords, rather than watering the horses but thank you very much it is very kind of you to offer, do you know which way leads towards Silchester, neither of us looked to see which way our lords were riding off to?

As they rode on towards Andover, the knights of Sir Iolan as well as the lord himself came riding our to meet the envoy. Immediately, he spotted the Wolfsbane and spoke out to him.

“You must be Sir Brychan, I must say I am surprised to see Knights of Salisbury riding so openly, especially after your recent aggressions”

The parties suspicions were confirmed, the Levocomagus had been raided by men in the guise of Salisbury knights. He told Sir Iolan this and added that it seems that someone wants to stir up trouble between us, as the peace between us is still somewhat shaky. He explained the mission of the group, stressing that it was entirely peaceful.

Sir Iolan begrudgingly promised the knight’s one night’s hospitality within his walls. The men were led into his walled manor, which seemed absolutely desserted. They were taken to a barn, given token bread and salt, as well as gruel and water, and were guarded all night. The knights ate the bread and salt at the threshold of the door, sure that every one of the guards could see, and they then resigned themselves for the night, under the command of Sir Olivier, setting up a watch and dividing the gruel up between themselves. Over the course of the excursion Sir Maddog had been disappearing at night with a sack with something in it, and more recently with a box of about the same size. The other knights knew not what he was doing, if they even noticed his absence and just assumed it was some crazed ritual that Domnu demanded. This set Sir Brychan on edge, but just made him watch Sir Maddog even more closely.

The next day, the knights were herded out of the barn at sunup. The manor town was transformed. A single pathway from the barn to the exit had been created with wagons and crates blocking every other path. There were archers up at the top of the houses and knights riding in a full circle around the party. Everyone was sure to keep their hands well away from their swords and proceeded as quickly as possible.

When they reached the outside of the walls, Sir Brychan turned to the leader of the knights who has escorted them. “Will you send a message forward to Silchester for me?”

“Don’t worry Sir Brychan. Word has already been sent.” He replied ominously.

Further along the road, the men noticed that they were being followed by a lone rider. He followed them for the morning, and at around luncheon, he disappeared. When the knights had eaten and started riding again, they crested a hill to see the rider again. He was waiting in the middle of the road, in, as one of the knights pointed out, the perfect place for an ambush; a dip in the land surrounded by higher groun on all sides aride from where the knights were riding from. With no other option, the Knight’s rode towards him, only to be hailed warily and told to keep away from their weapons. As if on cue, a hastily counted sixty mounted men appeared over the hills on three sides. Deciding to trust in the hospitality of the Lord of Silchester, the knights kept still and quiet, aside from a few prayers.

When they were surrounded entirely, Sir Cecily deDepeden came to the front of his men. He exchanged courtesies with the knights, but before any business can be breached, Sir Maddog reached for the box he had been carrying.

“I have this, a gift for the Lord of Silchester, it proves our good will towards the Levocomagus.”

He handed the box to his squire who brought it to deDepeden. When he opened the box, he masked his surprise well and nodded, before quickly handing it to his Herald. It is indeed the head of Herbert of Testside, our common enemy. As the Sir Maxim the Herald lifted the head out of the box for all the men present to see, Sir Maddog’s mysterious hours of disappearance in the night became apparent. The long hair and beard of the former King of Testside had been delicately plaited and tied with ribbons, with flowers woven into his beard. Later some of the men would laugh about the balls on Sir Maddog, presenting a tarred head as a peace gift. However, others would quietly grow more concerned.

deDepeden stated “I shall be frank. It seems we are being set against each other.” Sir Sewyl courteously appeased Sir deDepeden with reassurances that Salisbury were not the cause of the conflict and only wished to work together to secure peace and discover the true enemy and, it was agreed that 25 men under the command of Sir Maxim would accompany the eight knights to Silchester.

As the peace envoy arrived at the feast hall of Duke Ulfius, the men immediately spotted a cluster of blonde heads, and the distinct saxon accent. While the more peacable men restrained those who hated Saxons the most, Sir Sewyl slipped under the radar and walked straight up to the largest in the group, The Saxon in drunken confusion toasted the conquest of Logres and with heightened emotions Sewyl quickly called him a cur and getting himself challenged to combat. Just as they were about to draw their swords, Duke Ulfius walked down into the room.

“I am fully aware that trial by combat is one of our most time-honoured rites, but this is a time of celebration of the bonds now acknowledged between King Aelle and Myself. Only fight to the first blood, and that shall settle the manner. I put one Librum on the Saxon”

This started a whole clamour of men eager to place bets. Sir Dolwyn, Olivier and Maddog each placed large bets on their burly companion and Sir Sewyl but heavily on himself. As soon as the fight began, Sir Sewyl lunged in, taking a chunk out of the saxon’s shoulder before leaping back, saluting him and going to collect his money. The saxon had not even had time to swing his sword. He was dragged off by his friends who were furious at his embarrassing display.

After the winnings had been collected, Sir Brychan, followed by the rest of the party, stepped up to talk to Duke Ulfius. Just as Sir Brychan opened his mouth to begin the peace talks, Sir Maddog intervened again, proudly boasting of the luxurious gift that the knights had brought the Duke to start off on the right foot for their peace talks. Sir Maddog then went on to tell a somewhat enhanced tale of the execution of Herbert of Testside, (neatly forgetting the fact that the men had painted their shields with Levocomagus colours and slaughtered his peasants in the usual Levcomagus fashion to draw the traitor lord out from behind his walls! ). Impressed by the story, and the fact that every man in the party had played a part in the retribution of Sir Herbert (another of Maddog’s enhancements) the Duke spoke loud enough for the whole courtroom to hear.

“This is happy news, not only to meet the slayers of our mutual enemy, Herbert of Testside, but also to see that the men of Salisbury are genuine in their perusal of peace between our lands. This will hopefully cement our relationship as allies. It seems obvious to me that the raids we both suffered were the acts of the Saxons to the south led by King Cerdig. However I have learned that not all Saxons are evil, my new friend King Aelle here is both a trustworthy and strong ally, and I am glad to call him friend. “

The imminent war, is averted. The men rode back for Sarum the very next day, with news that there would be no attacks form the wrongly accused Levocomagus, that the Saxons to the south were to blame, and also, worryingly, that Duke Ulfius had befriended the saxon King Aelle. One of who’s men had told Sir Sewyl just before the fight, that together the men of King Aelle, along with his newest vassel Duke Ulfius, and would conquer all of Logres together…

Our story continues…

Main Page

Heave A Stone

After the calamitous events of the previous year, at last order had begun to return to the court of Salisbury. The Lady warden and her son sat at supper with their knights about them.

From a far corner of the room, three figures made their presence known; rising from their places hooded and cloaked against prying eyes. The three strangers made a great show of taking bread and salt, ensuring that all the staring eyes should know they were guests at table, and by the laws of hospitality protected by the young Duke and his wary mother. One of the three, a man, spoke in solemn voice: “I bear news of the Knight Sir Brychan, and his wife and father. Will you hear this tale?” At a wary nod from Lady Ellen, the stranger began his story . He spoke on for some time, fantastical things lent weight only be the very calm and certain tone of his voice. At last, he reached the conclusion of his tale, announcing the imminent return of the Lord Ursal, missing for seven long years, and his dutiful daughter who had gone in quest of him, and Sir Brychan, who had departed soon after in search of both.

Outcries greeted this final statement, as those who had profited by the trios long absence denied the claim and those who wished their safe return giving joyous voice. Quieting her lords, Lady Ellen asked a final question of the still hooded strangers. “How is it you come by this tall tale? It cannot be true.” The man replied “Well, I happen to know its truth. Because I am sir Brychan Eurion.” So saying, he threw off the hood and revealed himself. Astonishment greeted him, as the tall man beside him revealed his own concealed features: those of the missing and officially dead Sir Ursal, Lord of the Hundred of Chalke. The slightest of the three likewise cast off her disguise to reveal Jenna, Ursals’ daughter and Brychans wife.

The ensuing hubbub was a clashing noise as every knight spoke up at once. With Ursal returned alive, what would now happen to his estates? His place as lord of Chalke had been taken by Sir Emir only recently, though some of his vassal knights seemed to have appreciated the change. Some clamoured that his long absence was just punishment for his lusty ways and he should be permanently stripped of his seat. Others said that he was too long gone from Salisbury to properly command in its current crisis and he should stand aside for more involved men to lead.

A rallying voice spoke against these calls for his retirement. They recalled his skilled and valiant leadership in battle, his strong hand which had steered the Chalke as his fathers had, and his fathers father. Word ran that during his long absence he had suffered proper punishment for his wicked ways, and returned to them a better man for it, perhaps. While the arguments ran Ursal for once took a considered (though still loud and forthright) approach and defended his name and right to title, Brychan moved with quiet purpose to speak to the other lords and veteran knights whose opinions carried weight in these matters.

He spoke first to Sir Emir himself, the man with most to lose if Ursal were re-confirmed. With Bishop Rodger heavily involved in so many places and the calculating Lord de Tourney expanding his holdings, there seemed ample space (suggested Brychan) for Emir to remain as he should, a lord of a Hundred, but of a different seat. Either Branch and Dole, Bishop Rodgers Hundred, or de Tourneys newly acquired Testside would suit he added. Sir Emir, aware of the risks involved in crossing Sir Ganis, suggested that it might be better if he were to ease the weight on Rodgers shoulders, and with that in mind, Brychan made a move to speak with that worthy. The bishop agreed that it was only fair for Emir to remain in his elevated station, and that if the court should agree, he would surrender this one of his many offices. He likewise pointed out that too great a shift in power might destabilise the already fragile court, and that it might be better for each lord of a Hundred to be lord of only one Hundred.

Quiet conversation and rumour-mongering became the bread and meat of the gathering, and talk ran deep into the dark hours of night. At long last, having heard out all the principle speakers and the advice of all her highest nobles, the Lady Ellen announced her decision, and the strongest opinion of the court. Sir Ursal would resume his seat, and Sir Emir would move to the stewardship of Testside, only recently awarded to Sir Ganis de Toureny.

Before the court seperated for the year, there was still another matter of protocol to be settled: The creation of two new knights. With the death of Earl Rodderick at St. Albans, Knightings had been somewhat stalled, but with the flurry of new appiontments, Sir Jarad was given the solemn duty as Lady Ellens strong right hand.

The two young men stepped forward, knelt and swore their oaths before the traditional final blow was struck. The first, Sir Sawyl was unscathed, and perhaps overcompensating for a tentative blow against him, Sir Jarad leaned his full weight into the second, and send the new sir Neys crashing to the floor unconscious. Amidst a deal of hubbub, Sir Ganis, his liegelord, stepped forward to complete the oathing , belting and armouring to make Neys a full knight. In a bout of great enthusiasm, Sir Sawyl ran to the door and threw it open, intending to take the bracing run about the town on his horse… but startled by the clatter of the door and the chainmail on its master, the poor beast threw back its head, jerked free of its handlers and made a break for freedom on its own.

As the celebrations went ahead and Neys slowly recovered under proper medicinal care, Sir Ganis and his loyal knights began seeking out the names of those at court who had cost him the painstakingly acquired lands of Testside… The six fingeredLord of Blackwood is renowned for many things, but forgiveness and mercy are not among them.

The story continues.

Main Page

The long journey home

With Crone Meroe’s ashes scattered in the wind the group leaves the charred skeleton of her house behind. They traced their steps back the way they had come. All were in good cheer, if still little jumpy at night for fear that the crone would be seen lurking in she shadows of the ancient trees of the old forrest they were travelling through. After a handful of days, Sir Brychan and his party came across a stream with a crossing.

Many stomachs dropped, as they saw the Knight of the Ford in the middle of the river. He was astride his handsome horse, holding his quarterstaff like a lance. When he saw the group he boomed out the same challenge as before, but added that there was no glory in fighting the wounded, especially when they had wounded themselves fighting an enemy of his, so he said that if any of the group did not wish to fight him today, he would let them by as a favour. But the next time they met, he would fight them regardless of the circumstances.

Before any of the men could excuse themselves, Daffyd strode into the stream, rolling his shoulders, his knife flashing in his hand. The Knight of the Ford dismounted, and adopted his stance. After a few moments of stillness, there was a frenzy of movement, too fast for most eyes to follow. It ended abruptly with a ‘scchhlup’ as Daffyd’s dagger entered the socket of the Knight’s skull and replaced his eye with a bloody fountain. The Knight slackened, fell, stayed down for a terrible moment, then stirred and rose again. Just as he had Sir Brychan, he congratulated Daffyd on his stellar fighting and handed the bloody knife back to him, making eye contact with both of his eyes as he did so, for the eye that Daffyd had ruined was back in it’s rightful place as if nothing had happened.

Spurred on by how easy Daffyd had made defeating the guardian of the crossing look, Issa was next up, rolling up his trews and removing his boots to spare himself the rest of the day squelching down the road. Armed with his sword and shield, he squared off against the Knight. With this fight there was more caution in the air. Issa was testing the knights reflexes and guards which seemed lax to say the least. Finally, spying an opening Issa committed himself to the attack, only to have the river suddenly rush up to meet him. He had completely misjudged the Knight, assuming he was having a bad day, rather than feigning incompetence. The watchers on the riverbank thought Issa would not live long enough to regret his mistake, but as he scrambled to get back to his feet, drenched to the skin, the Knight of the Ford merely waited. A truly honourable creature.

He waited until Issa gave a nod and then the fight recommenced. Issa was sure to not make the same mistake twice, you didn’t come to be in Sir Brychan’s guard if you were a slow learner, you usually didn’t live long enough.

The fight was longer than the previous one, with several blows inflicted from both sides until the Knight was being pushed back by Issa’s attacks, stumbled on a weed covered rock and fell. This time it was Issa who was honourable, returning the courtesy to his opponent and waiting until he was ready. Just because he was being courteous though, did not make him any less ferocious. With a cry Issa started a fresh assault, hitting blow after blow, until a neat jab from the staff stopped him mid swing, the Knight then went for an attack, only to have Issa neatly sidestep and hack at the Knight’s leather wrapped fist. With half a hand remaining, the fight was swiftly ended in Issa’s favour.

The Knight commended him on his bravery and shook Issa with his hand, now totally reformed, with fresh skin and not a trace of a wound. Issa had left a mark though, the glove was missing some of it’s fingers.

Next to face the fae guardian was Petyr, who waded into the stream and cast his long shadow over the Knight of the Ford. It seemed that both competitors were somewhat cowed by the other, for they were both fighting quite poorly failing to block some easy blows, stumbling in the stream, and overall making a clumsy affair of things. In the end Petyr managed to run the Knight of the Ford through, but quickly withdrew his sword from the creature, helping him stay on his feet in an effort of good will. While he was supporting the Knight he realised that there was no blood spurting from his stomach, and quickly headed back to join the others, pale faced and unnerved. Its seems that after all the magic they had witnessed, Petyr was still as uncomfortable with it as he had ever been.

Adeon was up next, heartened on by the three consecutive victories of his colleagues! There was a little swagger in his walk and he told the men he would make a more exciting spectacle than Petyr’s frankly embarrassing fight. In fairness, he was true to his word. The spectacle of Adeon falling for the “what’s-that-behind-you” trick mid fight was something that would not be forgotten soon. He would receive a level of teasing so severe in it’s frequency and longevity, that it would haunt him for the rest of his days.

However, when Adeon was knocked out cold, the Knight did not push for the killing blow. He reminded the men that they only needed to fight him to cross, they didn’t necessarily have to win and that losing was not usually fatal… unless they weren’t going to take their friends head from out from under the water.

It was Bain who came to Adeon’s rescue, slinging him over one of his bull-like shoulders, placing him next to Seymond in the wagon, then returning to the ford to level off against the Knight. When the fight began, Bain rushed the Knight, catching him off guard with his speed that did not usually lend itself to those so thickly set. He got too close to the guardian for the long stave to be effective and hacked deep into the Knight’s ribs twice. There was a satisfying wet crunch as the creatures ribs were splintered inwards under the swings of the axe. Bain withdrew his weapon, stepped away and waited. The Knight stayed on his feet for longer than most men would in that situation, before crumpling in a dishevelled and bloody mess on the floor. For a brief while the stream ran red with his blood. and Bain walked back to the men, who were startled. It was easy to forget how untamed Bain’s fighting style was, and just how ruinous this kind, generous man could be.

The Knight inevitably got back to his feet, and walked to the edge of the stream, looking to those who could not fight, Seymond was still looking bizarre thanks to the crone’s potion, and the after effects of the giant’s half asleep swat at him. He looked like hell and the Knight simply waved him past.

The men crossed the ford, in silence, saving talk about the individual battles for when they were well out of earshot. On the whole, Sir Brychan was proud of his men, they truly were a pack of hardy fighters, and he was glad that his wife and father-in-law could have seen their fighting prowess first hand, so she would know that they were safe, and that Lord Ursal would be impressed by the men he had trained and selected.

The moon had waxed from a mere sliver in the sky to a large pale orb, and still our party marched for home. Seymond had shed his porcine form leaving bristles all over the back of the cart, the rest of the men commented loudly that they should have taken his tusks as trophies before he had turned back, but Seymond laughed it off, as he knew this was mostly said in jest. Mostly

Regardless, Seymond was just happy to have his fingers back in working order, and his face back to something that the men would not openly gawp at. Lady Jenna had spoken to him for the first time today and all was well with the world.

Eventually there came the day that the men and been dreading. They had reached where they had found Lady Jenna and Sir Ursal. They knew not where to go from here. The path petered out into a tiny deer track wide enough for one abreast, and the cart would not fit, so they parked it by the road, untethered the horses, and left it there. Frankly it was amazing that the spindly cart had managed to carry a bear, a boar-man and so many provisions for so long. It looked on the edge of collapse. So instead of leaving it, men decided to make one last use of it and have a huge campfire tonight, putting the whole of the cart to the flame.

The next day they carried down along the deer path, their food supplies dwindled and hunting parties had to be send out almost every other day. Eventually the group came to a suspiciously round and neat clearing. Lady Jenna and Sir Ursal were about to walk right into it, but Sir Brychan and the men held them back; they did not trust neat, round clearings. Not any more.

In the middle of the clearing was a faerie ring. The men discussed this at length; would this ring do them good or ill? The general consensus was that it would do good, and if it did ill, the men would simply have to find another giant to help them combat it. Eventually, Petyr stepped forwards into the ring, and as soon as he did a voice spoke from behind the men. This was strange as the men were all facing different directions, but somehow the voice managed this. It spoke with a lilting, musical quality which made even Issa rethink his hatred of singing.

“you are a long way away a wend away from home friends. A long way and a long journey. Something tells me you men have an interesting tale to tell; a tail of a pig but perhaps more winding. I would lend you my services you to hear such a tale friends, I can take you out of this ancient forest and back towards where you left your seducer and you cook; if you will tell me your story along the way”

Then from a place that the voice was not coming from stepped the most beautiful man any of the group had ever seen. Lady Jenna, for the only time in her life, had a ghost of an adulterous thought dance across her mind and a shiver across her body. The man was of average height but a much more slender build than the burly host of Sir Brychan. The light danced off of his pale skin and hair as if they were gold and ivory under a stream of bright sunlight. He stood boldly as naked as the day he was born in front of the men. Eventually the ever pragmatic Issa snapped out of the state the creature had brought upon them. “This all sounds very well, but what will it really cost?”

“Nothing but the words from your mouths as you weave me this fable. I assume you have met those of my ilk who are less amiable than I, well fear not for I am gentle. But you smell of giant so i am willing to assume you have met at least one friendly fae creature otherwise you would be flat like a pool! Now you stare friends, I can see your curiosity, bright elf is your name for us but it is not our true name for true names hold power”

Sir Brychan spoke up and swore on his good word that the elf will come to no harm from any of his men, and that he will receive their story in full, if the creature leads them back to Rhydychan. The elf laughs at the mention of Rhydychan and tells Sir Brychan that’s not what it’s called, but true names hold power so… Then he waits. Adeon, realising what he is waiting for, starts to tell the tale, starting from the battle of the wash. Beaming, the elf beckons Adeon follow and sets off between a gap between two young trees. Making sure not to mention anyone’s names (for apparently names held power) the group took turns and told their story in full. The elf was a wonderful audience, laughing, gasping and cheering appropriately, asking questions about details and overall, leading the men to become more confident in their fable weaving abilities. They swapped out orators when one grew tired, which was surprisingly often, as they trekked through the shadows of the ancient forest.

Strangely, they seemed to be talking for a long time, days in fact, without the sun ever setting. Walking alongside the elf thinking about their adventure had a dreamy feel to it. When their fae companion commented loudly that their story was really worth listening to, most of the ever vigilant men’s heads snapped sideways, for they spotted movement. Just visible between the dense foliage, they saw several figures walking alongside them, obviously kin to the elf that was leading the party because of their illustrious skin and golden hair, naked as they all were. The men were constantly catching sight of the creatures out of the corner of their eye, darting behind one tree and stepping out from behind a different one. Eventually Seymond deigned to wave at one and the delighted female grinned back and returned the wave enthusiastically! Seymond mentioned to the elf that he could bring their friends closer if they wished to hear the story too. The elf told him that they could hear them from miles away, they were only this close because they wanted to see the characters. Slightly unnerved, Seymond settled back into his dreamlike state, hardly noticing Adeon blowing kisses at the naked fair folk who blew kisses and mimed even more erotic acts back, so up front and unabashed were they that Adeon may have blushed a little.

After what seemed like the same amount of time as a nap (simultaneously timeless and fleeting) the sky brightened, though it had not noticeably darkened, and the men stepped out of the forest and straight into another Faerie ring. This happened just as Sir Brychan drew the story to a close. The thought that the journey was always going to last as long as the story surfaced at the back of the minds of all the mortals present, but that was pushed aside by relief as they spotted a familiar cluster of houses on the top of a nearby hill, it was the Hall of Sir Gwinis. The men turned to thank the elf for his aid but he had already slipped back into the forest without a word, leaving the men squinting in the daylight wondering if that had really just happened, or if they had dozed while they were in the saddle.

Regardless, they were at Rhydychan, one step closer to becoming the full party they had left with and well on the way to returning home, for a Roman road ran past Rhydychan and ended near enough to Salisbury. The men would be damned if they were to set for in another bloody forest for a long time. With the final destination home firmly set, and the road clearly marked, they should be back in time for last days of the harvest, it had been a most eventful summer.

Turning their back on eerily watchful dark-wood, our men head home

Our tale is almost at an end, and its final chapter can be read in the conclusion to Settling Testside

Main Page