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Happy St Patrick's Day. Enjoy the one day of the year when the whole world is Irish.

A Leap of Faith - Chapter 16

Started by AnnieUK, January 04, 2011, 01:49:50 PM

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AnnieUK

June 30th
Dhassa to Llyndruth Plain

The army was to leave before dawn, so the rest of the night passed in a whirl of confused packing and arrangement-making.  My uncle must have been woken in the night also, and thank heavens, he had agreed to me travelling with him, for word came from him that Sister Luke would travel with us to be nurse for Brendan and lady's maid for me.  He assured me that a tent and such furnishings as could be packed at short notice would be made available.  He had sent a short personal note too.

"My dearest Richenda, I am so saddened and shocked at the news.  Believe Kelson when he says he holds you in no way responsible.  He is an honourable man and will keep his word," and at the bottom instead of the signature with elaborate flourish and the seal of the Bishop of Dhassa, was the single word "Thomas".

At first light Sister Luke, Brendan and I had a simple breakfast.  "Are we going back to Marley, Mummy?"

"No dear, we are going with the King and the armies.  Won't that be grand?  You can watch all the soldiers marching."  I tried to sound enthusiastic and light-hearted for my son's sake, but in reality I was sick at heart.

"Will Papa be there?"

"He is with another army, darling."  Strictly the truth, but not in the way I wanted my son to take it.

"Can I watch the soldiers fighting?"

"I don't think the King will want a little boy too close by if there is any fighting." I smiled apologetically at Sister Luke.  "I'm afraid he is rather obsessed with soldiers and horses.  If you ever need to distract him, show him one or other of those, and if you can summon up a soldier on a horse you will be his friend for ever."

Sister Luke smothered a laugh and cleared away the debris of the breakfast before we prepared to leave.  Although it was June, that early in the morning the air was chilly and damp, so we donned light cloaks and went down to the square in the centre of the city that our room had overlooked on our first night in Dhassa.

I scanned the crowd, but couldn't see Morgan anywhere - unsurprising with the number of men and carts and horses to get on the road.  One of his lieutenants found me, though, and directed me to the litters which were for our use.  Litters are never my favourite means of travelling - they are cramped and sway unpleasantly, but they can travel where carriages cannot and I had no complaints.  The lieutenant also pointed out a horse provided from the Dhassa stables for me, should I prefer to ride.  I recognised the horse, for I had ridden her on occasion during our weeks here, when I accompanied my uncle.  I thanked the lieutenant and told him that I would certainly ride if at all possible, if Brendan would stay with Sister Luke without giving the poor Sister palpitations.

The first rays of the sun were just showing over the horizon when the leading detachments formed up and started to leave.  The Haldane flag fluttered proudly in a stiff breeze, and the first horses strode out through the Dhassa gates.

Our litters were to be towards the back, near the supply wagons and the carts with the tents and such furnishings as were to be transported with us, so we waited our turn to depart.  

As we passed the entrance to St Senan's Cathedral, I bowed my head and sent a short prayer to St Raphael for my safety and that of my loved ones.  As we passed the cathedral doors many of the soldiers doffed their caps and crossed themselves, doubtless sending up prayers similar to my own.  How many of them would see Dhassa again, I wondered.

After the drama and lack of sleep of the previous night I dozed alone in my litter, being soothed by that same swaying that would normally leave me queasy.  Brendan, despite his early morning, was his usual lively self in the litter he was sharing with Sister Luke, at least for this part of the journey.  I did feel guilty leaving Sister Luke to look after him while I dozed, but that redoubtable woman managed to keep him entertained until midday when we used some of the provisions that we carried with us to have a scanty meal.  

It was sweltering in the litter by then and I envied the riders their freedom of movement.  In the heat of the afternoon Brendan finally gave in, jaded by excitement and lack of sleep and by then Sister Luke was glad to sleep too, so I was left the only wakeful one of our party.

Unexpectedly, the front of the column called a halt.  The king had ordered a forced march until we reached Llyndruth Plain, the soldiers eating and drinking provisions that they carried with them as we went, so this was a surprise to us all.  

I pulled back the curtain and asked a nearby soldier if he knew the reason for the delay.  He glanced at his companions, who shrugged and shuffled uncomfortably.  "I don't know, my lady," he replied awkwardly, with a hint of a bow, "sounds like the scouts have spotted something that needs checking out.  They will pass word down the column if it is a lengthy delay, so the men can get some rest."

Word evidently came, since a few minutes later the men removed their backpacks and sprawled out on the turf to rest weary limbs.  

Seizing the opportunity to stretch my legs I eased myself from the litter.  The ground rolled beneath me as blood rushed into cramped legs, but it was good to be able to relieve tortured muscles, and get some fresh air.  One of the men from the supply wagons fetched a folding camp chair down from his cart "Here y'are, m'lady.  If we are to stop awhile you might as well be comfortable."  

Comfortable wasn't the first word that came to mind, but it was far better than nothing, and I had him place it on the far side of the litter, where I would be shaded and out of the way if horses or men needed to pass.

A rider passed the lines of men.  "We're to stop here a bit, lads.  Make the most of it." Cheers came from many  – some of the men were already asleep where they lay, taking advantage of the chance to rest while they could.  

"How long, do you know?"

"Duke Nigel's men are building a funeral pyre, so an hour or so," his face twisted as he recalled what he had seen "or two, maybe."

"What's been happening up there, then?"

The rider shook his head.  "Bad things, man.  Terrible things.  We've found some of the Cassani troops down there," he waved an arm "in the ravine. Stuck on spikes and made to stand like a troop on parade."  He swallowed with difficulty. "And they've all been hacked about, but the tears on their clothes don't match the wounds on their bodies.  And worst of all," another pause as he struggled to keep his composure, "some are saying as they've no heads.  Their  helmets just stuck on their shoulders, like."

The men gasped, and suddenly one of them remembered my presence as I sat quietly behind the litter, aghast at what I was hearing.  

I heard awkward shuffles and a low voice saying "Ah, man, there's a lady and her son in the litter.  D'ye think they overheard?"

Yes, I had heard all right.  I was suddenly queasy, and it was nothing to do with the previous swaying of the litter or the warmth of the day.  Was this Bran's work?  And if so, had I ever truly known my husband at all?

If Bran had done these things, then my being here would be useless.  Kelson would never forgive him, no matter what fancy words Bran came up with.  Treating the dead like this was beyond contempt and no-one would deal with him now.

"Aye, and they are Bran Coris's wife and child," said another low voice.  "What will you bet me that he's behind this?"  Rumbles of agreement came from the others in the party, quickly muted in case I overheard.  

"I just hope that Duke Nigel's men can get them all decently seen to.  Then the bishops can say the words for them and we can all get away from this accursed spot."

As the afternoon passed the smoke from the pyres started to rise, thick and black.  The wind carried the smell away to begin with, but as time went by it reached us all: an acrid, greasy smell that clung to clothes and hair.  As the soldiers were gathering their things ready for the order to move out, another lone rider made his way towards me – the Corwyn lieutenant who had aided me earlier.

"His Grace Duke Alaric sent me to see if you were all right, my lady.  It must be dreadfully hot in the litter – do you and your son have enough to drink?  Can I get you anything?"

I was pleased to think that Morgan was thinking of me even as we travelled.  I knew that he would be attentive to any woman with whose care he had been entrusted, but I hoped deep down that it was more than that.  I was tempted to cast my mind to the head of the column, to see if I could detect him there, but I did not dare risk him becoming aware of my touch.   Caution was still my best policy.

"As a matter of fact you can." I returned to the lieutenant, "Could you find the horse that His Grace provided for me?  I should like to ride for a time while my son and his nurse are sleeping."

"Of course, my lady," and with a nod of the head he wheeled away, returning minutes later with a fine bay by the reins.  

The wagoner who had provided my chair came to reclaim it, but said no word and did not raise his head as he did it.  He ducked the smallest nod he could get away with without outright rudeness and encouraged his team onward.  He was seemingly having as little to do with the Countess of Marley as possible after recent events.

The army continued its journey, but it was a slow start.  As each company passed the pyres they stopped and the soldiers bowed their heads in respect to their fallen comrades.  Underlying the sadness and the fear burned a fierce determination – the people who had ordered this horror must never be allowed dominion in Gwynedd.  

As the afternoon drew to a close, my uncle dropped back to speak to me.  It was nice to have some adult conversation as I rode, although we carefully avoided the topic of the funeral pyres we had left smoking behind us at Rengarth.  I had hoped to seek his counsel about how best to win Bran over, should the opportunity arise, but I think we both knew that this was hopeless now and his name was never mentioned.  He apologised that he would not be able to dine with me that night, for he intended to make his way around the camp, offering such reassurance to the men as he could, praying with them and hearing such confessions as they might wish to make on the eve of battle.  

My uncle was tense, having evidently seen much more of the butchery of the Cassani troops than he would have liked, or wished to share with me, and our conversation was sparse and uncomfortable until we drew near Llyndruth Meadows and he returned to the head of the column, and to King Kelson.


http://www.rhemuthcastle.com/index.php?topic=630.0  Chapter 17

AnnieUK

And the background paragraphs to this chapter, which I would love to have been able to do :

***

Alaric stormed into Kelson's rooms and threw down a map in front of him, jabbing a finger at the point that marked Dhassa.  "You see this, Kelson?  This is Dhassa, and this..."  he moved his finger north-east and pointed again, "this is Llyndruth Plain.  Even allowing for there not being a dot to mark where we are going, that's about a hundred and fifty miles."  

He rolled up the map and tapped it across his palm, pacing the room as he did so.  "At this latitude at this time of the year you are looking at sixteen, maybe sixteen and a half hours of sunlight.  So if we forced march there in a day, allowing a couple of hours at dusk to set up the camp, that's a speed of well over ten miles an hour you're expecting these poor sods to keep up.  That's like a decent marathon runner running six marathons in a row with full kit on his back.  With no food or drink stops.  And without allowing for two hour stops for anything unexpected *coughs* beheaded and impaled bodies *coughs*. Ain't happening, boyo, and if the author objects then refer her to me.  I'm only Lord General of the Damn Armies - doesn't my say count for anything any more?"

***

Those elastic roads are at it again. ;)

Elkhound

I read somewhere that J.R.R.T. used his British Army Officer's Manual from WW I to calculate how far his characters could march and/or ride in a day.

Evie

* Evie falls over laughing and nodding at Alaric's "elastic roads" rant! ;D
"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!

Alkari

Voiceover from Prince Azim:_
I believe that the ancient Airsid had the facility to make some roads function in much the same way as Transfer Portals.  It is said that they could 'fold time' or something - though there are no records of that in Anviller archives.  Perhaps this is one area of ancient Deryni magic that will have to be rediscovered?


Alaric snorts: 
Well, if you're telling me that the ancient airsid could march whole armies around the place in a single day, with all the horses, wagons and equipment - hmm, just hand me another flagon, will you?  I think we both need it.



AnnieUK

OK, I have to do this.  Straight after I posted the first rant, Kelson and Duncan had a little exchange in my head.

***

Kelson winced as Alaric slammed the door hard enough to rattle it in its frame.  He leaned over to the priest sitting quietly beside him.  "Tell me, Duncan, did my father really make him Lord General of the Armies?"

"I'm afraid he did, Sire."

"Bother."

***
Only what he said in my head wasn't "bother" but would have been a test case for chapter 1 of the next fic, so maybe I should have seen what DR's reaction would be. ;)  LOL

Alkari

#6
Kelson, your father made him Lord General of the royal armies because he knows about important military matters, such as just how far armies can march in a day, and still be ready to fight and deal with 'other events'. 

Brion didn't believe in elastic roads any more than Alaric does, and to be honest, *I* haven't seen any evidence of them either.  Although we did seem to get from Dhassa to Culdi via Rhemuth very quickly earlier this year, after the St Torins affair - 20 hours of hard riding to Rhemuth was certainly a little quicker than I could have expected, especially with Alaric half dead in the saddle ...

Duncan

DesertRose

As long as the substitute for "bother" is a word KK would use in that context, you're good.  I don't think I've seen her use "bugger" as an exclamation, though.  The only time I recall her using that word at all was in reference to the manner of Krispin's death.
"If having a soul means being able to feel love, loyalty, and gratitude, then animals are better off than a lot of humans."

James Herriot (James Alfred "Alfie" Wight), when a human client asked him if animals have souls.  (I don't remember in which book the story originally appeared.)

Elkhound

Quote from: DesertRose on January 04, 2011, 05:37:03 PM
As long as the substitute for "bother" is a word KK would use in that context, you're good.  I don't think I've seen her use "bugger" as an exclamation, though.  The only time I recall her using that word at all was in reference to the manner of Krispin's death.

What about, "Kelson used a word that his lady mother would have blanched to hear."  Leave it to our imaginations exactly what that word might have been.

Alkari

Quote"Aye, and they are Bran Coris's wife and child," said another low voice.  "What will you bet me that he's behind this?"  Rumbles of agreement came from the others in the party, quickly muted in case I overheard. 
Feels very sad for Richenda and Brendan, as the stigma of treachery and this particular deed will follow them both for a long time, in different ways. 

And nice to see that Alaric is being properly solicitous for Richenda, even if he can't be there  ;)


Shiral

Quote from: AnnieUK on January 04, 2011, 01:59:19 PM
And the background paragraphs to this chapter, which I would love to have been able to do :

***

Alaric stormed into Kelson's rooms and threw down a map in front of him, jabbing a finger at the point that marked Dhassa.  "You see this, Kelson?  This is Dhassa, and this..."  he moved his finger north-east and pointed again, "this is Llyndruth Plain.  Even allowing for there not being a dot to mark where we are going, that's about a hundred and fifty miles."  

He rolled up the map and tapped it across his palm, pacing the room as he did so.  "At this latitude at this time of the year you are looking at sixteen, maybe sixteen and a half hours of sunlight.  So if we forced march there in a day, allowing a couple of hours at dusk to set up the camp, that's a speed of well over ten miles an hour you're expecting these poor sods to keep up.  That's like a decent marathon runner running six marathons in a row with full kit on his back.  With no food or drink stops.  And without allowing for two hour stops for anything unexpected *coughs* beheaded and impaled bodies *coughs*. Ain't happening, boyo, and if the author objects then refer her to me.  I'm only Lord General of the Damn Armies - doesn't my say count for anything any more?"

***
Those elastic roads are at it again. ;)

"Oh most certainly my Lord General,"  The King replied wryly. "But tell, me, our Creator has decreed that it happened this way.  My strings are being pulled, just as yours are, and it is a matter of record that we DID get from Dhassa to Llyndruth Meadows in the time stipulated, so what would you have me do?  I'm only King because she says so, after all."

"Blast it all, that's right," Alaric snorted.  "Sorry, Sire  I just get so frustrated not knowing how big this  Kingdom really is."

Kelson sighed.  "You think you're frustrated by that, Alaric?"

Melissa
You can have a sound mind in a healthy body--Or you can be a nanonovelist!

Alkari

#11
ROFL @ collective frustrations of mere characters.   Do you think a deputation to the author would work?  

Alaric mutters a few choice words that he certainly did not learn in polite company.  "Our wonderful and talented Creator is supposed to be writing the third book about my childhood.   Kelson, we'll just have to live with her version of geography for the moment.  If we start demanding some sort of rational explanation for Gwynedd distances or marching times, she'll probably leave me shut away somewhere in Rhemuth Castle as a page, in the company of Oliver de Nore's nasty little nephew.   So before we tackle her, at least let me be in more pleasant company - drinking with Brion for instance."  

He looks up and grins wickedly.  "Or she could just advance the timeline to a year from now and leave me alone with my wife ...!"  ;)



Elkhound

Quote from: Alkari on January 05, 2011, 12:14:46 AM
ROFL @ collective frustrations of mere characters.   Do you think a deputation to the author would work?

Not every author can be JRRT who worked out his geography precisely, and even delayed publication of THE TWO TOWERS because he realized that he got the phases of the moon wrong and had to rewrite every scene that occured outdoors at night.

AnnieUK

I wasn't having a dig, Elkhound, although it probably sounds like it.

It's just when you are doing fanfic and trying to work out how long it will take your character from A to B, it's blinking hard sometimes.  Do you go with the "it is x miles from A to B, therefore by horse it is reasonable to assume it will take 2 days" approach, or do you take the "well if it took this person 7 days to go from A to C in the books, then it will probably take 4 days" approach.

I started with the former, and assumed that Joseph would take maybe 3 days to get to her with the message, only to find the army marching the same route in reverse in less than a day.

And worrying about the phases of the moon is just bizarre.  I know Tolkien readers are obsessive, but do they really go into it in that depth?  And I thought some of the conversations on here were a bit anal sometimes.  ;)

Evie

Quote from: AnnieUK on January 05, 2011, 09:41:11 AM
And worrying about the phases of the moon is just bizarre.  I know Tolkien readers are obsessive, but do they really go into it in that depth?  And I thought some of the conversations on here were a bit anal sometimes.  ;)

*giggle*  Actually, that's probably a lot less to do with Tolkien's readers and a lot more to do with Tolkien himself being anal about it!  I can certainly relate to that.  As much as I try to tell myself that no one here is going to bother looking up the actual date of Easter in 11-mumble-something, much less doing the conversion from the Gregorian calendar to the Julian, I end up researching obscure stuff like that before dating a scene because having those little details right matters to me, even if they don't matter to anyone else reading.  Same with trying to get the liturgical details right (or at the very least, not glaringly wrong) whenever I have to write something involving a Mass or a sacrament.  Not being from a liturgical background myself--much less "medieval something-resembling-Roman-Catholic-or-early-Anglican-yet-not-quite"--and having only the most rudimentary knowledge of Latin, I sometimes feel like I ought to be getting a seminary degree from all this reading up on medieval religious rites that I've been doing lately!  :D  But I don't want to just make that stuff up from whole cloth, because not only do I respect the historical underpinnings of this fantasy world (it's what drew me to the books in the first place!), I also want to deal respectfully with beliefs and practices that many people still hold to this day, even though my personal faith practices may differ somewhat.  (That's the other thing that drew me to these books--that there were people of faith in it who were multi-dimensional, and there were as many "good guys" as "bad guys" in the lot!  That's increasingly rare these days--it seems if you see a priest or other overtly religious figure on TV or in a movie nowadays, they'll end up either being a bumbling idiot or else being the hypocritical villain of the story.  Where are the Duncan McLains and Thomas Cardiels of modern fiction, much less modern fantasy works?  Closest thing I can come up with at the moment is Shepherd Book, thank you Joss Whedon, but people who saw Serenity know how he ended up, darn you Joss Whedon!   :D)
"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!