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DerynifanK

March 17, 2024, 03:48:44 PM
Happy St Patrick's Day. Enjoy the one day of the year when the whole world is Irish.

Ghosts of the Past

Started by Bynw, November 21, 2017, 09:26:09 AM

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Jerusha

Darcy Cameron waited patiently outside the chapel door with Father Columcil.  He hoped there would be time before they departed Arx Fedei for a wash and a shave.  A change of clothes would be welcome as well, though he wasn't sure he still owned anything that wasn't bloodstained or torn.  At least Sir Washburn appeared to have found a fresh tunic.

Waiting was giving him too much time to think.  He wondered what information Lady Aliset was passing on to the Duke of Corwyn.  Not that it was his business; his duty was to  escort the lady safely to Rhemuth, but he was still curious.  They were within reach of Rhemuth now.  Once there, he would escort her to the king, or would he?  Would he be summarily dismissed and Lady Aliset be whisked away to be sequestered with the ladies of the court?  Would Lady Aliset still need him as her man-at-arms?  He could not deny the truth that he would willingly remain at her side for as long as she would have him. 

He heard footsteps approaching the chapel door and straightened.  The stars would chart his course as they always had; he hoped they took him in the direction he wanted.
From ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggity beasties and things that go bump in the night...good Lord deliver us!

 -- Old English Litany

Bynw

Grand Duke Valerian was no fool. He knew why his predecessors failed in their attempts to take Meara or even Gwynedd itself. They all under estimated the resolve of the Draper usurpers who call themselves Haldane. They hold on to their lie that they are all noble and royal born. They hold on to the Deryni power they were given by the cursed traitor Camber. And if forced to retreat, they foolishly scatter with every man or woman left to themselves. His thoughts were deep as he watched the taking of Ratherkin. He mused a bit that none of the usurpers were present during the attack. Those that survived would make great hostages.

But the Grand Duke's thoughts were back on the future. If forced to flee from this stronghold. He would ensure that the most loyal of Mearan nobles would be given refuge and safety in lands far away in exile as they waited for the next opportunity to strike. Even the Queen would be saved. He made certain that there were Deryni among her attendants and ladies. And a Portal nearby in case it was needed.

The usurpers may when a battle. But they will never win the war. Turning to one of his men. "Make sure our spies in Rhemuth are listening. It wont be long until Kelson hears of the attack in Ratherkin. We must know of his plans before he does."
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revanne

Kelric had remained in the chapel after Columcil's departure, his head bowed against the statue's feet. He had come here in search of peace and had instead found himself the recipient of another's trouble. At least one of them would go away comforted. A word in Uncle Duncan's ear would not go amiss, supposing he ever made it back to Rhemuth. Maybe it was time that Dhugal knew that he had another son he could be proud of, one that was no sort of threat to Duncan Michael, though he had no intention of being the one to tell him or that it was by Dhugal's own father's command that the knowledge had been kept from him. He respected his older kinsman and he had been his rock after his father had died, catapulting him so suddenly into his responsibilities as Duke, but no sane man risked drawing Dhugal's wrath upon himself.

Sweet Jesus, it appeared that none of Washburn's companions were what they seemed!  He could fully understand why the lady Aliset had opted to travel as her brother, but if Lord Jaxom could ever prove his suspicions then there could be hell to pay for her if he spoke publicly. And what would be the price of his silence? That Kelson should give her to him in marriage? And now, after his conversation with Kelson, he had begun to wonder whether her man-at-arms was not the simple seaman he appeared either. The description that Kelson had sent of his spy in Ratharkin, Sir Iain, was uncannily like that of Master Darcy, surely there could be few with that distinctive colouring and fewer still that shared the same surname unless they were kin?

He amused himself for a few unworthy moments pretending to wonder if Washburn were all he seemed either. Had his father been still alive he would have perhaps dared to make a joke of it when he was alone with his parents, for the sheer pleasure of receiving a cuff from his mother and seeing the light of utter trust and adoration in his father's eyes as he looked at his beloved Richenda before threatening to have the hide off his first born son. Oh God, how his missed his father, though neither could he imagine him as the old man he would have now been.

But would he ever get back to Rhemuth? He knew that he was simply distracting himself with these idle thoughts. At least now he knew that his son would have a good regent and mentor in Washburn, though he had never thought to think that, or, God help them, see the necessity. The news from Kelson had been bad, very bad. It was that which had sent him here to St Jorian's chapel to pray, and that which had led him to welcome Columcil, hoping that the priest's presence would strengthen him. Well perhaps after all it had and, although Columcil would never know it, that embrace had been as much for himself as for Columcil, when just for a short time he had been able to lay aside the Duke and be simply Kelric. But as dawn approached he could no longer have that privilege. Sir Iain had managed to get word out of the treacherous attack on Ratharkin Castle; by now it had surely fallen and they must leave Arx Fidei as soon as possible, though he would beg the Abbot's leave to have a simple mass said for them before they left. At least, he and his troops must leave to meet with the troops that Duncan Michael had been bringing down from the north for some days. By royal command Washburn and his companions were to continue on to Rhemuth with the added protection of Lord Jaxom's troops. None of them would like it but they would simply have to obey orders as must he.

But there remained a short time before he must begin rousing others and he opened his spirit in prayer to the Lord whose will governed all, asking that he be given the courage and wisdom not to fail his earthly lord in this time of trial. As he knelt in peaceful surrender suddenly his thoughts were pierced by a scream. "Help us! Help us!" It was a female voice, no rather a young girl's voice, crying out with her mind to whoever could hear. "The castle is taken, the guards are killed. They are killing the servants now, they will find me! Help me! Help Ratharkin!" Kelric reeled back, wondering what extremity of terror could enable a young mind to be heard so far away. Then he chided himself and bit back his expletive, mindful of the holy place in which he was; it was all too clear what was causing the terror. But had he really heard someone or was it just his imagination making too vivid a picture of what must even now be happening in Ratharkin. If it was not just his imagination then surely another of the Deryni within these walls would have heard it too. Washburn and Lady Aliset, at least, especially if they were asleep. His first instinct was to go and rouse them, but at once he thought better of it. He must not risk putting his thoughts into another's mind. If there had been a voice for them to hear, then better they come to him, and Columcil knew where he was.

There was nothing that could immediately be done to help any of the poor souls in Ratharkin, except one thing, he soberly corrected himself, and crossing himself he knelt back at St Jorian's feet. There would have been many this night who died in fear and pain and he asked that the saint who knew what it was to suffer an agonising death might ease their path into the hereafter.

He was still deep in prayer when a very somber Washburn came into the chapel, genuflected and then gently touched him on the shoulder. "Your Grace, my brother, I am truly sorry to disturb your prayers, but there is something you must hear now."


 
God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.
(Psalm 46 v1)

Jerusha

Iain Cameron stood at the window of his rented room, watching fate play out at Ratharkin's castle.  The gates remained wide open.  More men, unfortunately those spurred on by the mob, entered to bring more carnage.  Iain suspected there had been carnage enough by now.

"Help us! Help us! The castle is taken, the guards are killed. They are killing the servants now, they will find me! Help me! Help Ratharkin!"

Iain froze, the cry piercing through his very being.  Worse yet, he recognized the voice, though it sounded only in his mind.  Young Lady Agnes, granddaughter of Ratharkin's castle steward, Sir Ainslie Carlisle.  He had met her on one of his visits to the castle, as a tinker sent to repair pots and pans.  In reality it had been to subtlety pass intelligence to her grandfather.  He had found her a charming child, full of intelligence and questions.

For a moment, he stood uncertain.  His duty was to King Kelson, his orders clear. But he could not ignore the cries of a desperate child.  He knew of a secret passage into the castle and had used it himself more than once.  Instead of the common sword he wore as a tinker, he drew from its hiding place beneath the thin mattress on the cot a more formidable weapon, his father's sword.  For a moment, he held the hilt before him, looked at the cross it formed in the moonlight, and asked Saint Camber for his blessing on the child he sought. Then, resolutely, he descended the stairs and went out into the night.
From ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggity beasties and things that go bump in the night...good Lord deliver us!

 -- Old English Litany

Laurna

#364
"Washburn," the duke said only just loud enough for his brother to hear him.  "Have your two other companions attend me, I would speak to all four of you as one."

The younger brother bowed a quick respect, then stepped across to the chapel door, opening the door wide enough to admit the two men waiting without.

"The Duke of Corwyn would have orders for us." Washburn let the two men enter. He briefly gave the nave beyond the door a cursory glance. There were many priests just then, dispersing from the first service of the day.

((01:23 jaxom Can Washburn sense if Lord Jaxom is lurking nearby?
01:23 jaxom !roll 2d6
01:23 derynibot 3, 2 == 5))

Not sensing the presence of the son of Baron Trillick lurking around, Washburn was reassured. Perhaps Jaxom had really just been concerned for Alister's well being, as he had said. There was hope he was not going to be a menace. Faint hope. Wash closed the chapel door firmly, then joined the three others. Columcil and Darcy were just rising from their respectful bow to the Duke.

"I have been in touch with His Majesty, King Kelson. I don't think I need to explain to any of you how that can be." The duke spared a quick glance at the young man-at-arms, and was glad to see there was no fear in the man's eyes. His brother had revealed in the beginning of this journey, that the young seaman had displayed some resistance to magic. Traumatic events had certainly changed up this man. Kelric knew they would change even more before he let them go about their chores this morning. "The four of you are ordered by the King to attend him in his court by this very evening. It is not a terribly long journey, six hour ride at the greatest. You are not to tarry in your travels. I don't think I need to tell you that, as I am sure you are as anxious to get to Rhemuth, as the King is to have you attend him. He needs to know everything that you know." This time Kelric looked strongly at Lord Alister. "Tell him everything. Especially that which you just informed me of," he said to the heir of de Mariot. "I will be in contact with him again this evening, but it is my hopes that you will stand before the king before I can make that Rapport."

All four companions, sucked in their breath. It was the Duke's brother who dared to question one of the highest lords of the kingdom. "You will not be coming with us? Kelric, I was trusting that you would escort us to the capital, yourself?"

"Sadly, No. Dear brother, you have proven you are quite capable of getting Lady Aliset to the King. It is but half a days ride through the heart of Gwynedd. I know the four of you will make the journey without further trouble. Nevertheless, I have been ordered to have Lord Jaxom Trillick and his men escort you safely on this last leg of your journey." As all four standing before the duke began to protest, Kelric creased his eyebrows and gave them all a hard silvery-eyed glare. All four fell silent, feeling admonished by a parent.  "I am well aware of your concerns. In this, there is no choice. I can not spare anyone else to ride with you. The king's orders are explicit. My men and I are to ride north. We are to make an immediate response to the injustice of these rebellions."

Sir Washburn, almost reached out to grab his brother's arm in his concern. But the look Kelric gave him forced him to his knees instead. "Take me with you. You will need my sword."

"No!" The plain word scalded Washburn, and Kelric instantly regretted it. "Wash, understand me. You have your tasked laid ahead of you. You must get to Rhemuth and tell Kelson all that you know. Then you do as Kelson orders you to do. If those orders are to follow us to Meara, than I will welcome you at my side. But if those orders are for something else, you must do as the king bids. He may not want the Corwyn reagent in the same place as its Duke.

"Reagent?" Washburn looked up sharply from where he knelt. "It can't possibly be as dire a situation as that?"

"Your telling me that? After all that has been done just to keep this lady from escaping Meara? I am not a fool, and neither are you." Kelric had stuck a serious cord, and now all four men had taken to a knee before him. "I accept your respect of me," he said in the silence, "and I thank you for it. When all this is over, I will gladly sit down and share an ale with each of you." The duke wished so much that this would lighten the mood of the four before him, but he had to give up on that wish.

"There is one more thing you need to know. His majesty has a man on the inside in Ratherkin. He has been supplying Kelson with information on the rebel forces. It is particularly important that you know who he is, when you return to Meara. He is in the disguise of a tinkerer. He is Iain Cameron, a noble and very loyal baron as well as a spy for His Majesty." This time Kelric purposely singled out Master Darcy in his gaze.
May your horses have wings and fly!

Jerusha

Darcy Cameron involuntarily sucked in his breath, but he held the Duke of Corwyn's gaze.  He was aware his three companions were staring at him.

"He is alive, then?"  He finally asked.  "My brother still lives?"

Duke Kelric nodded.  "At least as of his last report to King Kelson."

"You have a brother?"  Aliset blurted out.  "A baron?"

"Aye," Darcy replied, and at the duke's nod, continued.  "My brother, Iain Cameron, has been Baron 'o Isles since our father died.  I would have been just short of six years at the time.  Iain had been sent to Rhemuth the year before to train as a squire. Your Grace, did he win the accolade?"

"Yes, he did."  The duke smiled.  "I was at his ceremony; he was an impressive young man.  I thought it odd that none of his family attended."

Darcy's face was beaming with pleasure.  "That is good news, your Grace.  Thank you."  Then the young seaman's face darkened.  "Things changed greatly in Isles when my mother remarried."  He turned to face Aliset.

"On my honour, Lady Aliset, it was never my intent to play you false.  Until you removed the old training controls you found in my head, I remembered nothing of my life before the sea.  Once I remembered, well, I needed time to consider all of it and what it would mean.  There's been no time for that!  I've been concentrating in getting you, nay all of us, safely to Rhemuth in one piece."

Father Columcil was nodding his understanding.  For a moment, Washburn said nothing and then said, "Now you are Lord Darcy."

"Sir Washburn, I earned my Mastery in twelve hard years at sea.  Master Darcy will still suffice, for now."

"I'm afraid not, Lord Darcy," Duke Kelric said.  "Now we must all prepare to depart.  I will see you safely on your way before I leave for the north."
From ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggity beasties and things that go bump in the night...good Lord deliver us!

 -- Old English Litany

revanne

#366
Duke Kelric made as though to gesture the others to rise then seemed to think better of it. Instead, he put out a hand to help Columcil to his feet, and asked,

"Would you say a blessing for us all, Father, before we must go our separate ways?" using the contact to send "I would have liked to have you say Mass for us but it might have been a little difficult to explain to my Lord Abbot why I choose a travelling priest instead of himself." Columcil nodded acquiescence but could not resist sending in return "Aye, especially given that said priest's cassock is fit for naught but the ragbin."

He wondered if he had presumed too far when the Duke made no sign that he had heard, but then Columcil saw the corners of his lips twitch as he moved to kneel beside his brother. But then he was ashamed of his jest as the enormity of the privilege he had just been given struck him, and turning to face his companions he asked for the protection of God and His blessed Saints to be upon them. Invoking the sacred Trinity "in nomine Patris, et Filii et Spritus Sancti" he made the sign of the cross over them all, a gesture which each echoed.

As they all stood, Kelric embraced his brother and nodded to each of the others in turn before turning to leave the chapel.

"I must go and give orders for us all to be ready to leave within the hour. I will ask my Lord Abbot to arrange for Mass to be said and for travel rations to be made ready. We will not stay to break our fast, we need the bread of the Lord for our souls more than food for our bodies in these perilous times. We will gather again in the church in half-an-hour."

There was nothing to discuss, they were under the orders of the King himself and idle conversation seeming out of place, Columcil rapidly gathered his pack together and made his way to the church, choosing to stand in a quiet corner near the back. As the church began to fill with the troops of both Lord Jaxom and Duke Kelric he became aware of a quietly heated conversation taking place just outside the door, and - God forgive him! - recognising the voices he edged close enough to hear.

"Lord Darcy, Your Grace?" The voice was full of scorn, veiled out of deference to the other's rank but scorn nonethess. "The man's naught but a common seaman, for all that I make no doubt he is good enough in his own station in life." Strain as he might Columcil could not quite make out the Duke's response although the tone was not one Columcil would have liked to have had addressed to him.

"As Your Grace pleases." Lord Jaxom clearly had many things that he would have rather said had not his training in obedience constrained him. As two men entered the church he made a show of bowing the Duke in through the door, but made no move to accompany the Duke to the front preferring to remain where he could mutter out his frustration. Columcil was grateful that their eyes were both fixed on the altar but when he heard, "And I suppose he's going to say that the priest is the Archbishop of Rhemuth in disguise!" he could not help but wonder whether Lord Jaxom was really as oblivious of his presence near him as he seemed. The man was ranting and had struck out at a venture but he could have wished he had chosen a topic a little less near the bone!

Falling to his knees, and letting the shock of the hard stone serve as an act of contrition, Columcil bowed his head and perpared to receive the precious Body of his Lord.

God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.
(Psalm 46 v1)

Laurna

#367
Sir Washburn Morgan wouldn't have said he was angry, not if any of their party had dared to ask him. Not really angry, as he led the nine mounted horses at a canter away from the sanctuary of Arx Fidei. He admitted to himself that he was upset, quit possible even upset to distraction. And that wouldn't do anyone any good if he could not keep his focus on the road ahead. The trouble was most of the riders following him did not know him, and therefore they would misinterpret his tense square shoulders, clenched jaw, and utter silence as anger. Perhaps they thought he was angry at his brother, the Duke of Corwyn. Perhaps they thought the duke had denied him his chance to go north as some form of punishment for some unknown slight or flaw in his character. Washburn knew none of that was true, but how could the other's know the real reason. That real reason is what upset Washburn more and more as he considered the future in all its possibilities. He didn't like any of them. 

Most would say that the Duke of Corwyn's presence in Cassan and Meara was a good strategy. It was a show of the king's hand where lawlessness had erupted. The king's champion would join up with the armies of Cassan and Kierney and they would subdue the people's rebellion. The trouble was that rebellions of the common folk cared not for title nor honor. There was no chivalry in this type of uprising. Just like the dishonorable attacks of caltrops and man-traps that Wash's party had come upon yesterday. The people would use any and every form of violence to attain their goal. Kelric's men were too few, they counted but twenty-two in total, twenty-two of the best men of Corwyn and Lendour. Washburn would have preferred it to be twenty-three.   Why, oh why, hadn't Ratherkin stayed loyal, even for a few more days? If the whole party of thirty-two had been able to return to Rhemuth, then when the uprising began, the king would have ordered three times as many men north. Prince Javan's elite brigade and Haldane arms could be added to Kelric's best men. The spear-head into Meara would then have had a solid predictable outcome in their favor. And, Washburn would have been among them to see to the protection of his elder brother.

Washburn again scolded himself for thinking the worst. This incident was very unlike that which his father rode out to meet nineteen years before. That was against Teymuraz, the devil spawn Deryni of the east. This was Meara, nothing like the hordes of Byzantine fighters.  Washburn had a job to do. He needed to see the people he had come to care about safely before King Kelson's court. This task was as important as the other. Then when that was accomplished, he would request of the king that he be assigned to his brother's side.

Washburn casted out around him to see what lay on the road ahead of them.

((12:17 Road Washburn casting out for what lay ahead on the road. 5, 6 he senses people
12:17 Road !roll 2d6
12:17 derynibot 1, 5 == 6
12:19 Road 5,6 he senses armed riders or 1-4 farmers
12:19 Road !roll 1d6
12:19 derynibot 1 == 1))

There were indeed a group of men on the road ahead, but further casting out proved them to be farmers and the common folk going about their daily chores.  This was good. Washburn spurred Shadow a little faster and was pleased to note the other's followed his pace.

About an hour past with the sun rising over the hilly country and grasslands when Lord Jaxom gained the courage to come level with Sir Washburn and make a request. "I think we should let the horses walk a pace." Washburn could not help but notice that Jaxom's eyes seemed to turn back to Lord Alister. Washburn wanted to laugh at the man for being so obvious. Lord Alister was quite capable of keeping the pace that was set, even if he in truth was a lady of the nobility. The young heir of Meriot had already proven this over the last week. But Washburn was not about to point that out.

"We can take a breather. A short one," he added. He put up a hand and brought his party down to a walk. "Why don't you set the pace, Lord Jaxom. I have a bundle that Duke Kelric asked me to deliver to Father Columcil. I shall use this reprieve to see that he gets it." With that, Washburn reined in Shadow and let the other's pass him by. Jaxom wasn't too happy with being in the lead, as surely he had wanted to fall back to Lord Alister's side. But this command denied him that opportunity. Aliset and Darcy both looked appreciative of that little fact as they walked past Sir Washburn.

Shadow was set at an easy walk when Spean came abreast. "Father Columcil. I neglected to give this too you earlier." He lifted up a linen-wrapped bag that had been tied to his saddle pack. "It is a gift from both Duke Kelric and the Abbot. They both thought you could use a new Cassock when you come before the King. I will see that we all have time to clean up and change before we are admitted into the king's presence." He handed across the wrapped garment, knowing it would be of the best of wool and silk for daily vestments. Perhaps equal to or better than what a country priest would wear for ceremonial service.




May your horses have wings and fly!

Jerusha

The old tinker made his way through the streets of Ratharkin toward the castle.  The violence within had not yet spilled without, but soon it would.  Looters would take what they could find, and common men would become soldiers for the cause, using the rebellion to take retribution for wrongs true or imagined. 

He kept to the shadows and made for the hidden gate at the base of the castle.  Hidden behind shrubs and thistles, most would not take a second look.  The tinker edged behind the thorns, managing to snag his tunic only once, and found the lever that would open the narrow door.  It creaked slightly, but no one was near to hear the sound.  The tinker slipped inside.

He had no need of a torch.  He cupped his hand and silver-blue handfire lighted his way.  He crept quickly up the steep stairs cut into the inside of the wall.  Finally, he reached the wooden door at the top.

Jerusha   !roll 2d6
20:55   derynibot   4, 2 == 6
Iain does not sense anyone outside the door

He extended his Deryni senses beyond the door.  He could not sense the presence of anyone, but he drew his dagger and held it close.  Slowly he opened the door inward and peered beyond.  He saw no one, but heard the sounds of fighting not too far away.  Cautiously, he cast outward in a general call.

Jerusha   !roll 2d6
20:58   derynibot   1, 3 == 4
Failure to detect Lady Agnes

There was no response.  It did not mean Lady Agnes was not still alive; she might be too frightened to respond, or was somewhere his call had not reached.  He made his way toward the section of the castle where many of the noble families, including Sir Ainslie's family, had rooms.  To his dismay, though not to his surprise, he passed the slain bodies of knights, soldiers and servants.  As he came closer to the quarters he sought, there were bodies of women, cast aside as of no consequence.  He steeled himself and moved forward.

No, please, don't hurt me.  No!

The cry was clear and close.  The tinker moved into the inner room.  A grinning insurgent was holding Lady Agnes aloft by one arm, swinging her back and forth, his sword coming closer to her with each swing.

"Shall we have a game of it, little lady?" he said, laughing at her frightened face.

Jerusha   !roll 2d6
21:09   derynibot   4, 6 == 10
Will Iain slay the lady's captor; Yes

The tinker moved soundlessly forward, drawing his dagger.  He gripped the man's sword arm and drove the dagger deep into his chest, piercing the man's heart.  Man and girl fell to the floor, making more noise than the tinker would have liked.  For a moment Lady Agnes stared at him in fright and then she recognized him.

"Quickly," the tinker said.  "Come with me.  I'll see you to safety."

Agnes nodded and took his offered hand.  The tinker looked around and recognized the old tapestry hanging in a corner of the room.  "Quickly now, this way."  Putting action to words, the tinker pulled her behind the tapestry.  Behind it was a hollow alcove.  The tinker reached for a hidden latch, and the wall behind them slid open.  He guided the girl through and the door slid closed behind them. For a moment, they stood in darkness and then the tinker cupped his hand and brought forth silver-blue handfire. 

"I know where you can be kept safe, Lady Agnes.  Will you trust me?" the tinker asked.

Agnes nodded, and then cupped her hand and formed a small ball of green handfire.  "I can help," she said.

Iain Cameron smiled and resisted the impulse to say it was not needed.   He held out his hand to the young girl, and she grasped it willingly as he led her away from the death in the castle.
From ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggity beasties and things that go bump in the night...good Lord deliver us!

 -- Old English Litany

Laurna

Lord Jaxom was honored to lead the party at a stately pace of a walk for a time or so.  Then as the sun rose in the sky, he became aware that their journey would not find them before the king at the appointed time if they continued at this rate. The whole party really did need to move out, even canter for a while to make up for the slow morning hours. This irked Jaxom to no end. How could he be sure of the lady's well being if he was out front, leading their group, he needed to  be riding at the lady's side so that if anything happened, he could call for a halt. Why hadn't the duke's brother resumed his duties as leader, as he should have done so an hour ago. No wonder, Duke Kelric left his brother behind. This Sir Washburn must have no sense at all. Was he at the back trying to court the lady in disguise. A look over his shoulder told Jaxom, no. Washburn was happily riding beside the country priest, the two seemed to be enjoying a good jest near the back of their party. It was that Darcy fellow-- a lord indeed-- Jaxom huffed to himself, who seemed to be too attentive to the lady riding beside him. Lord Alister was even looking a bit annoyed by something. Jaxom's protective instincts assailed his sensibilities. Perhaps it was better to move at a faster pace, less time for chit chat at the back of the group.

He called the group to a halt, motioning for Sir Washburn to come forward.

With a laugh over some remark made, Sir Washburn rejoined Lord Jaxom at the head of the que. "Is there trouble ahead?" the knight asked. "How can I assist?"

Jaxom cleared his throat, resisting the thoughts that came directly to mind. Instead he plainly said, "Tis the village ahead. Should we bypass it, by going around. I think we will need to pick up the pace."

Washburn squinted his eyes at the row of five small buildings, barely a village, more like a communal farmstead. But Jaxom did have a point, there seemed to be trouble wherever the enemy could find a place to hide. Washburn had been keeping an attentive surveillance on their surroundings, which wasn't hard to do at a walk. He was glad that Jaxom at least was perceptive enough to see that danger could and did at times exist.

"Very well, I do agree with your assessment. We will take the side road around over there. Tighten your reins up, my fellows," Washburn called over his shoulder. "Time for a goodly jog." With that Washburn put action to his words. Spurred his black Shadow forward and lead the party far around the cluster of habitations ahead.

Lord Jaxom happily took the opportunity to move back in the line and find himself riding beside Lord Alister. He ignored, as a gentleman should, the unkind glanced of the seaman on the lady's opposite side.
May your horses have wings and fly!

Evie

"If Lord Jaxom sets any slower a pace," Aliset muttered under her breath to Darcy in extreme disgruntlement, "he'll have us dismounted and entering the outskirts of Rhemuth on our knees!"

Darcy stifled a laugh. "Now, now, at least a steady walk is better than fleeing for our lives, as we've already done far too many times upon this journey!" Not that he felt at all sorry for the target of the lady's ire. The arrogant lord at the head of their party was just as irritating to him also, just for different reasons.

The lordling in question halted their already slow progress at that point, signaling for Lord Washburn to join him. There was a brief conference between the two lords, maddeningly just out of earshot, then Washburn took the lead, this time setting a faster pace that brought the smile back to Aliset's lips.  Darcy, easily imagining it on her own fair face despite the fact that she currently wore her brother's features, forced his mind to other matters quickly, forestalling any telltale blush that might give away his feelings for the maiden in disguise.

Lord Jaxom drew alongside them, on the other side of Lady Aliset, and shot him a supercilious glance. Darcy bristled, but determined to keep the peace, he redirected his attention straight ahead for the moment.  There was still the risk of danger springing out at them once again, after all.  Darcy returned his full attention to keeping a wary eye out for any traps or enemies that might lie ahead.

Aliset, her too-brief distraction thus otherwise engaged again, turned an annoyed look towards the man who had just ridden up beside her.  "Is it your intention that we arrive in Rhemuth before nightfall, my lord?" she asked coolly.  "At the pace we've been riding, either the King's Court is much closer than I remember it being, or the roads have shrunk since my last visit to that city, if we're meant to arrive at the city gates before the sun goes down."  Or before Hell freezes over, she Mind-Spoke in an acerbic aside to Darcy.
"In necessariis unitas, in non-necessariis libertas, in utrisque caritas."

--WARNING!!!--
I have a vocabulary in excess of 75,000 words, and I'm not afraid to use it!

Jerusha

Darcy Cameron struggled to supress another laugh as they rode forward.  Hell would probably not freeze over on this warm summer day, but he grinned nevertheless.  Lord Jaxom continued to ride on Aliset's other side.  Either the man had chosen to ignore Aliset's cool reception, or he was oblivious to the fact.  Darcy thought it was more likely oblivion.

They turned onto the sideroad to avoid the farmsteads.  It was narrower than the main road and Darcy was forced to move Sigrun onto the grass.  The footing was not as sure here, and he did not want to risk an injury to her.

"Lord Jaxom," Darcy called across.  "Could you move back or up? There's not enough room for the three of us abreast on this road."

"Pick whichever you prefer," Jaxom called back and kept firmly in his position beside Aliset. 

Let's move up, on three, Aliset Mind-Spoke to Darcy.  Darcy saw the determined look in her eye and nodded.  One...two...three!

In unison, Darcy and Aliset spurred Sigrun and Papillon ahead, leaving the startled Jaxom positioned behind.

"Hold on, Darcy! That was not what I meant!" Jaxom shouted.

"Keep up as best you can," Darcy called over his shoulder, and Aliset smiled.
From ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggity beasties and things that go bump in the night...good Lord deliver us!

 -- Old English Litany

revanne

Columcil felt some surprise at how comfortable he was being in company with Washburn as they rode along, even relaxing enough to laugh out loud at the young lord's jokes, and it seemed that the ease was reciprocated. He was not convinced that Shadow felt the same at the company he was keeping, the stallion did not even deign to glance at the shaggy border pony ambling at his flank and every now and then looked backward at his rider as if to say "if we go any slower, we'll be going backwards." Though he was enjoying this slow meander through the lush summer countryside, here in the fertile heartland of Gwynedd, after a time Columcil began to feel as twitchy as Shadow. This after all was no summer excursion but the last stage of a desperate journey, with information which they must lay before the king. Thinking thus, his anxieties about that coming encounter with his Majesty began to fill his mind and he was just plucking up his courage to speak more seriously to his companion when Sir Washburn was summoned forward by Sir Jaxom and Columcil was left to ride by himself.

By this stage in their journey together, stout-hearted Spean adjusted his pace to keep up with the other horses without Columcil having to pay very much attention, and he found that there was nothing to distract him from his worries, not even when Spean suddenly broke into a canter in the wake of Sigrun and Papillon. As Spean's hooves beat rhymically on the dry ground the same phrases echoed round Columcil's head, "What if he knows me for who I am? What if Duke Dhugal is there. What if...? What if...?" If only Duke Kelric had come with them, and could have spoken to Archbishop Duncan on his behalf. He berated himself for his selfishness when people were being slaughtered in their beds and the kingdom was in danger but he seemed unable to help himself. He had met the King once before as a seminarian when there had been a royal visit to Arx Fidei. He remembered bowing low and hearing a voice speaking gracious words, and himself muttering foolish nothings in reply, in the manner of ordinary folk meeting royalty. But this time the King's attention would be upon him and there would be no hiding in the crowd.

If only he had spoken to Sir Washburn when he had the chance. Well perhaps he could rectify that by speaking mind to mind. It appeared that Aliset and Darcy were too occupied with annoying Lord Jaxom to listen in, besides which he was not intending to reveal anything that they could not be privy to.

((Columcil Mindspeaks to Washburn, roll advantage 5+6+3=14. I do hope that all these hero points aren't a bad omen. 1nvgbj4pzm))

Washburn heard the horses behind him pick up speed and took that as a signal to give Shadow more of his head, enjoying the horse's smooth gait as he settled into a canter. At this pace it could not be long before the walls and towers of Rhemuth came into view and he would lead them before the King, able to be confident that Kelric had sent a good report of him to Kelson, though whether his mother would be impressed by him was a different matter. He was reflecting on what he hoped the King's orders for him would be when a voice spoke into his mind.

My Lord, may I crave a moment's indulgence? It took him a moment to recognise just who was speaking to him, with the customary accent all but smoothed out and the formality of address. When he did recognise it, he could not restrain a mental laugh.

Father Columcil. Just a moment ago you were laughing at my awful jokes and calling me Washburn. Why so formal?

There was a subdued chuckle. Aye, well, I'm getting in practice so as I'm no shaming ma'sen in yon Court in Rhemuth. There was a pause then Columcil spoke again, once again in the formal tones which Washburn found disconcertingly false though there was genuine enough appeal in the other's voice. My Lord, I beg that you will pardon me from appearing before his Majesty. It's his Grace the Archbishop I have business with. I'm a humble priest, that's all.

Columcil knew that he had been unable to hide the real distress in his voice, and he could but hope that Sir Washburn's compassion would be aroused. The answer came with compunction, but definite.

No, Father. I speak for all of us, your part must be properly acknowledged. And besides, this is the king's command and not my call.

Seeking to lighten the other's mood Washburn added, And, unlike we three, you will be properly dressed in your new cassock. I will need you to assure his Majesty that we are not a band of ruffians.

I'll no go before his majesty dressed like yon popinjay if the rest o' ye are no going to scrub yourselves up

Columcil's response was so prompt and so typical that Washburn almost laughed outloud, relieved to have his friend back to normal, though he could not imagine what was bothering him. He must know that the King would look on him with great favour.

Columcil sighed. He had tried and must simply hope that the King was too pre-occupied with the fraught affairs of his kingdom to pay him close attention.
God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.
(Psalm 46 v1)

Jerusha

#373
Darcy Cameron was enjoying his ride beside Lady Aliset.  And although it was not charitable, Lord Jaxom's discomfiture riding behind them did not bother him at all.  It was now late afternoon, and what had started as small villages springing up beside the road had became larger centres of population.  While previously they had the road to themselves, they now shared the road with travellers on foot, merchant's carts and those Darcy guessed to be mounted messengers.  He was used to bustling port towns, but nothing in his experience prepared him for the grandeur of Rhemuth when it appeared before them.  He almost pulled up Sigrun to stop and look, but caught himself in time and continued forward.

"They call it Rhemuth the Beautiful," Aliset said beside him.

"That she is," Darcy replied, and tried not to stare and the grandeur before him.  Beyond the waters of the river Eirian, Darcy could see the formidable walls of the city.  The spires of the Cathedral of Saint George could be made out in the distance, and beyond that the towers of Rhemuth Castle.  Darcy was determined not to be awestruck, but it was difficult.

The road became even more crowded as they approached King's Landing.  They would have to take the ferry across the Eirian to enter the city proper.  There were many travellers wanting to make the crossing before sunset; after sunset the ferry closed for the night.  Sir Washburn sent one of Jaxom's men to assert their place among the waiting travellers. 

The man returned looking apologetic.  "We will have to await our turn, Sir Washburn," he said hesitantly.  "There are other noble parties in front of us, not to mention merchants of note."

Washburn bristled and then realized that the sorry state of their combined appearances did nothing to help their cause.  No squire held his Lendour banner aloft to announce his presence.  Even Lord Jaxom was looking less than dapper by now.  Nevertheless, the Lendour stag embellishing his tunic should stand them in good stead.  He rode forward to address the ferryman.

"Master Ferryman, I am Sir Washburn Morgan.  I am under orders to report to King Kelson before nightfall.  I request passage for myself and my party as soon as possible."

The ferryman looked up at the tall knight before him seated on the black destrier.  The tunic was dusty, stained and torn, but the ferryman remembered providing passage to the Duke of Corwyn several days before.  There could be no doubting the resemblance.  He bowed.

"My lord," the ferryman responded.  "I can have you on the next ferry after this one.  This one is fully loaded and about to cast off.  It will be faster to put you and your party on the next one, rather than unload and reload this one."

"That will do," Washburn said with a nod.  "We'll form up and be ready to board."  He motioned for the rest of the party to come forward.

Once the next ferry was in position at the loading dock, they dismounted and lead their horses on board.  Darcy felt quite at home on the brief journey across the river.  Once the crossing was complete and they were again on dry land, they remounted and rode forward to enter the destination of their long and arduous journey, Rhemuth.
From ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggity beasties and things that go bump in the night...good Lord deliver us!

 -- Old English Litany

Bynw

He had been watching the ferry crossing for several days. Gazing through the small Shiral crystal he kept with his personal things. Random lookings as time permited the opportunity to watch. And seeing the dirty, torn, and bloodied Lendor tunic at the rivers edge meant that his steadfast watching has finally paid off. The Morgan and his friends will soon be in the Palace.

Feyd smiled. He carefully wrapped the shiral crystal back up and stored it gently. He aquired his other things. Those that he would need at the Palace. He then dressed in his fineres that would be fitting for his character, the role he would play out at the Palace. Entering with a number of other foreign guests this day. None would notice one extra minor lord among their number.

The persona was well established, this was not his first trip to Rhemuth after all. He had business here before dealing with an inconvenient Deryni. The Portal here was well hidden and forgotten by most. Like many of the ones he uses in his travels. Everything was set and ready. He says a brief prayer before heading to the Palace himself.
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