"Cradelmant's army surrendered without a fight. My forces decimated Belinant’s. Tarik's army wasted away from disease. Your men were stalled by the blizzard, and taken down by two knights.
"Now, my dear uncle," a red-faced high king was directly in his face now. "Give me one reason why I shan't have you gutted and hung from the city walls?"
Lot was both impressed and actually scared. The lad he had written off as a bumbling whelp held all the cards.
Even Gawaine.
He glanced toward his eldest son, who met him with an icy stare.
"King Rokk.... I must confess my role in the rebellion against you, but I can see now that I was duped. Tarik said he could prove your Queen Guinevere was a fraud, a-and that you," Lot took a gulp. "And that you took Excalibur from the stone by sorcery, not by birthright."
Rokk looked to Imra. Her nod told him that his kinsman believed his words to be true.
"So you took his word over kin?"
"I am ashamed to say I did. Ever since Vidar advised me so, I've doubted whether or not we are truly kin. And... In truth, I became jealous, that my two eldest sons entrust to you more than me."
Lot let out a deep breath. There. It's said. I can lose Gawaine no further for saying so.
Rokk met Imra's eyes.
His memory of meeting Vidar does indeed resemble Belinant's hazy blankness, she told him.
But Cradelmant was different yet? he asked.
No. He remembered Vidar as an annoyance, and seems not bespelled.
"Lot, my uncle," Rokk stated calmly. "I believe you were bespelled by Vidar's... sorcery. If you agree to be purified by my... healers, you may again hold my trust. And Lothian."
Lot smiled, gratified by the offer. Who knows? Mayhap I was bespelled, he thought. What harm can some Druidic rites do?
James led the shackled king away.
"I still trust him not," Jonah offered. "I know my sire. Vidar or no, he can't be trusted."
Rokk nodded. "But with him in power, we can watch him. And, I cannot spare you to rule Lothian in his place."
Jonah smiled. He had no wish to take up the throne just yet.
"So now what?" asked Imra.
"You and Mysa see to clearing Belinant and Lot of Vidar's influence," he paused, seeing her scowl. "She is my sister. Please. For my sake, work with her, and set aside whatever jealousy you-"
"You DARE!?" Imra was enraged that he would say such a thing before Jonah. Her anger physically knocked Rokk down.
"STOP THAT!" he commanded, getting up despite the pain. He wiped blood from his nose and returned her gaze.
Every fool with eyes knows that you moon over Garth! Even Carolus the jester chides you for it - if you'd but care to listen! he told her.
She reddened. "I shall do your bidding, then, my... liege." She stormed out.
"If that hurt me, I can't imagine what blow you just took," said Jonah, rubbing his head.
Rokk nodded. "Our knights are mighty, but how do we handle my queen, if she turns her will against us?"
"Ah. Women are like the sea," he cousin said. "After the storms, she's clear to sail where you will as if there never were a tempest, ever."
"But the tempests do come, and you can't always find a port to weather them," Rokk smiled.
The kinsmen laughed, and began the walk to the great hall...
[ December 26, 2005, 07:01 PM: Message edited by: Hey you ]
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Notes 107-117: 107: Auguries, for those that don't know, are essentially tellings of fortunes. 108: Their real names proved difficult - the ones I pegged as Scandinavian best translated to a Celtic name (Berach); while many I pegged as Celts (or otherwise natives of Britain) best fit into Germanic or Scandinavian names. Oh, well. I guess the luck I've hit elsewhere was bound to trip up somewhere. 109. Jonah's been leading too many battlefront charges. He needs a vacation. 110. I originally intended to wrap up Balin and Balan more quickly. But new ideas plug themselves in while I'm not watching. 111. Reep and L'ile haven't been getting much screen time lately. A guess surprise attacks don't lend well to strategy sessions. 112: Amhlaidh is a Gaelic name for another name used previously (I may have mentioned that already). This should come up again by the 130s. 113: I've been trying to get them to sea for ages! They just dragged their feet 'til I made them go! 114: Roxxius, at last! Is he just a raider? a Daxamite (or would that be an Ulsterite)? Only his hairdresser knows for sure... 115: I've been looking for a way to do more with Genni. I like this one better than most of the other one-teens. 116: And so the rebel kings are crushed! Not as dramatic as Malory, but he didn't have to fit his tale into LSH lore. 117: The second voice was L'ile, I forgot to include. Not that it really matters that much.
[ December 26, 2005, 07:03 PM: Message edited by: Hey you ]
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The six men knelt in the presence of the high king.
"You have each performed valiantly in the service of Britain. I salute you all," said Rokk.
In turn, he went to each of the six, placing Excalibur from shoulder to shoulder, on either side of seven heads.
"Sir Berach.
"Sir Peter.
"Sir Stig.
"Sir Dag.
"Sir Uland.
"Sir, er, Sirs? Franz. I welcome you all into my companions, my Legion!"
The great hall erupted into cheers and toasts, as the victorious knights celebrated the new knights who provided the key aide to defeat the rebel kings.
"Why weren't we knighted? Errol and I, along with Berach, did most of the work," said Drusilla, watching the ceremony alongside Errol and the elf.
"Knights are warriors. We help the cause, but we're not the front-line fighters," said the elf.
"You know, Berach and Dag still half-doubted their knighting this after-noon?" Errol said. "They feared King Rokk would defer them to be squires, or at best 'substitute knights.' Can you imagine?"
Unseen. L'ile took heed of their words. She has a point. Each of us does our part. Are we not worthy of the same respect? I must discuss this with Reep and Rokk.
The victory feast began in earnest, with three of the four defeated kings, Cradelmant, Belinant and Lot, toasting the health of the young king who bested them.
Kiritan added his own toasts, while Garth, Thom, James, Imra and Virginia offered toasts on behalf of their absent family monarchs.
Thom beseeched Rokk to repeat his tale of fighting the fierce axe-man to a draw, saving poor Dyrk in the process. The magic axe proved a match for both Excalibur and Rokk's own skills, as he told it.
After the tale, Carolus lampooned the king's memoir, describing the axe as naught but a kitchen-mallet for separating heads from chickens. Rokk jokingly challenged the jester to face the axe-man himself.
With the next round of ales, Jonah was asked to retell his charge upon Belinant's army.
Garth listened intently, swaying with the tale's rhythm. He had yet to regain his ability to hold his alcohol as he could before death, and was already feeling light-headed at the near-completion of his third pint.
"When the rain of arrows started, I half-cursed Dyrk, thinking he had not done his part," Jonah boasted. "But then I realized the direction - they were ours! We'd plowed so far into Belinant's force we were on the verge of charging Rokk's line!" The crowd roared, forgiving any exaggeration.
Garth looked at Tinya, aglow in adoration for Jonah. He felt heartsick, even more so at realizing Imra's gaze upon him.
"We fought well indeed," Jonah continued. "We fought for Britain, for valour, for King Rokk!" he toasted. After the murmuring and toasting subsided, he resumed, suddenly quiet and serious.
"We fought for or nation, yes. But we also fought for those who could not fight. The elders, the children, and of course, the ladies. I fought for a lady whose hand I feared I could never again touch, yet through God's mercy, here she is."
Tinya both flinched and reveled in the sudden attention.
"And, as her father is dead and her mother seems aligned with Tarik, I instead ask you all to bear witness, and to give your blessings, that Tinya of Eboracum," he turned his gaze to her, "should be my bride."
"Let it be so, if she's fool enough to have you, kinsman!" cheered Rokk. The rest of the court followed suit. Laurentia and Siobhan pushed a radiant, red-faced, smiling Tinya to her feet, where Jonah took her into his arms, and the two kissed passionately - and for so long that Carolus joked that Jonah could only do so, having learned to hold his breath while in the dragon's belly.
"Don't kill her again, Jonah!" he chided.
Despite the cheer and good will, Garth was lonely amid it all, and suddenly noticed Mysa's absence.
He glanced to Imra, wondering how she regarded his paramour. She glanced away, joining in pleasant congratulations to Lot, Jonah and Tinya.
When she glanced back, it was his turn to look away, no longer wishing to twist the knife himself.
Looking around, he noticed Dyrk and Virginia looking friendly. And what does Luornu think of that?
"Cheer up, brother. Is this not a celebration? Certainly you of all can celebrate life?" Ayla chided him.
"You are right, my sister. What could possibly be ill on a night like tonight?"
[ December 26, 2005, 07:04 PM: Message edited by: Hey you ]
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This is just brilliant!!!!!!! I have sat the whole afternoon and read all twelve pages. My boss has given me dirty looks, cause i have done no work. PLease don't stop there!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Please please please!!!!!!!
From: Durban, South Africa & Auckland, New Zealand. | Registered: Nov 2004
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Her husband did not cease his packing while responding. "Eiru, maybe. Iberia. In truth, I know not.
"Rokk has no need of me, nor shall I ever earn his trust. His kingdom is as established as he now wishes it to be," he said, finally stopping to face Mysa. "All I can accomplish here is done. I shan't stay where I'm neither wanted nor needed, nor awaiting a new excuse to be jailed.
"Young Garth is alive, and my part of the bargain is done with. He is now more likely to cause Rokk's downfall, not I."
"Will you go to Avalon?" Mysa asked.
"Nay. Not without you. I am but an old man. My time to conquer and politick is over," he smiled, savouring his first true freedom in decades. It was an exhilaratingly unfamiliar prospect, something Mordru hadn't experienced in some time.
"But you said-"
"-For you, my dear, yes. I would take on Avalon - and win- if you only asked for it. Kiwa had wronged you, and I wished to see you avenged. Rather moot, would you not say?"
Mysa smiled bitterly.
"And you, my bride? Shall you remain and play court-maiden, paramour of knights, or shall you reclaim your destiny?"
"I..." she turned away a moment. "Azura... has asked me back, to serve as Lady. No doubt she'd like to mold me to Kiwa's path.
"No, I cannot go back. Not yet. I feel Avalon around me, like a woodsman stalking his prey, yet only here in Rokk's court do I feel a reprieve from the hunt."
"And Rokk's bride? Was she not of Avalon's doing?"
"Aye. She was from the Teacher's Isles, where they deal in the... deeper magicks. We were friends," she paused. "Once. Now we are strangers. With Kiwa and Aven gone, I truly know not what hold Avalon holds on her. Nor do I expect she will hold her confidences in me any longer."
Mordru smiled. "There's nothing like a handsome lad to drive women-friends to the ice-axes."
"Husbands usually are equally jealous, you old goat!" she hugged him.
"I've had wives enough. Mayhap it was time I shared at least one."
She playfully swatted him.
"Well, you seem occupied with Sir Handsome. Maybe I should visit the lepress Rokk has seen fit to keep company with. She could no doubt use a husband's skill, ere once in her poor, wretched life," Mordru tugged at his belt for effect.
Mysa laughed. "Best not to leave her scorned, or your manhood may itself become a leper's table-ornament!"
Mordru smiled, but grew serious. "As my parting gift to young Rokk, my dear... Watch her. She could be a powerful ally, yes, or a deadly foe. I see danger in keeping her among his court."
Mysa nodded. "Her gifts were sorely taxed in two incidents against the rebel kings, and Nura has seen that it will be years before her influence grows that strong again."
"Even so," he said, lifting his bags, "be careful, my dear. You were my very favorite wife."
Despite being an old man, she saw a little boy's vulnerability in his eyes, and reached out to hold and kiss him.
"Will I ever see you again?" she whispered.
"If you ever need me, cast the Wind spell. You know how to cast that, don't you?"
"You put your lips together, and blow," she smiled. They kissed again.
She walked him out to the gates, and helped him secure his bags to his saddle. They paused to listen to the revelry upstairs in the great hall.
"He'll do well enough," Mordru nodded. "He's got good people watching out for him." He squeezed her hand, and then climbed his horse.
"Mysa of the Faeries!" he called, pausing a dozen horse-steps away. "You are as much queen of Britain as Im-- Guinevere is, whether you rule from Rokk's side or from Avalon. Use your throne wisely, and follow your heart always."
Stifling tears, she silently blew him a kiss, and watched him ride off to the west.
[ December 26, 2005, 07:07 PM: Message edited by: Hey you ]
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Altinum's coffers were growing stronger, the local Ostragoth lords and dukes were eager for his counsel, and unlike Britain, the masses here welcomed the Church and its authority.
Vidar took great satisfaction in his work. His gift to bring people to the Word of God was getting stronger and stronger, and with it, his reputation among Rome's elite.
As an outsider, he was neither aligned with Festus and his pro-Byzantine crowd, nor so tight with the elite of Rome - who Vidar scorned as virtually identical little old men, who almost seemed blue in complexion when fully regaled in their little red robes.
And as an outsider, the Ostragoth king of Italia, Theodoric, found him a refreshing alternative from the church politics so often heaped upon him.
So it was no surprised to find the king himself as a visitor on a fine spring day.
"Bishop Vidar, it seems that you are the sole voice of reason in all Christendom," said the king.
"Your majesty is to kind," he smiled. The two had grown close in the past year, but no so much that honorifics were dropped.
"Then let us speak not of flattery, but of your fellow clergymen. Have you heard Festus' charges against Pope Symmachus?"
"I have, my liege. Everything from paganism to immoral conduct - and the latest accusation is failing to celebrate Easter on the proper day this year, I hear. More political mechanisms by the Byzantines, it seems," he responded.
"Aye," the king nodded. "But it's causing too much havoc on Italia, and it needs to be settled."
"I'm sure Symmachus will heed-"
"-Symmachus has refused to see me. Apparently, he feels that rulers of the secular are not of merit to broach the subject with him," he laughed. "I'd make an example of him, yet I've no wish to quell uprisings," Theodoric said.
"I have called for the bishops to hold synod on the matter, and suspended the pope's authority until this is settled. But I need someone unaligned with either faction to make inquiries from Symmachus himself - and to administer the See in the interim," he continued.
Vidar's heart skipped a beat. If he could discredit both Symmachus and Festus' puppet-antipope Laurentius -- HE could be the next pope!
[ December 26, 2005, 07:08 PM: Message edited by: Hey you ]
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"Be not so foolish. You cannot venture any farther at my side."
"But I must! Don't you see?" Jeka pleaded. "I have as much to atone for as you!"
She had told Agravaine of things few outside of Imra and Voxv's court knew for certain over the course of the voyage. Sympathy had drawn him closer to her emotionally, but still he withheld the passion she longed for.
He smiled without saying a word. They strolled down the side streets, a collection of falling temples, sacked palaces and general decay.
"Fading glory," he noted, with sadness. "Not the Rome of legend I was raised on."
She nodded. "My father's old friends would visit us, regaling us with tales of old Rome. It almost breaks my heart to see what the Vandals have done to it. And the Ostragoths have no will to set it a-right - not even as they hold the very center of the world! My dear Agravaine, what is becoming of us all? Shall barbarians plunder everything civilized man has ever wrought?" She was almost in tears.
"It disturbs you to be hear that much?" he asked, surprised that she could be so overwhelmed by a city she'd spent a scant two days in.
"Yes. No... Maybe it's just that I clung to... Well, if Rome can't rebuild itself, how can we hope to maintain Britain?"
He gently squeezed her hand. "One stone at a time, if necessary."
His warm smile let her slip out of her fears, and she found herself smiling.
"Rokk' soldiers will return to Britain with the next sailing, and I've sworn never again to wield a blade," Agravaine said. "I cannot say for certain that I could defend you from all harms. The road ahead is less certain than... than, well, any of this," he gestured to the crumbling city around us. "I will fight til my bones are severed, my lady, but there is one of me, and I know not what sort of raiders may find a Cymru princess as delightful a bounty as I... would."
She laughed. "I shall have to take my chances, then."
"Then I shall ask our good host Senator Festus to find us passage for two to Palestine."
[ December 26, 2005, 07:10 PM: Message edited by: Hey you ]
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Senator Festus stepped out of his carriage, stretched and smiled.
It was always a relief to escape the politics of Roma by retreating here to his villa, where a man could be both civilized and at peace.
Although the flat lands of the province that surrounds Roma did not have the voluptuous hills that his Tuscan homeland did, it was beautiful nonetheless. The rows of cypresses, the golden fields, the olive orchards and the vineyards were all arranged with such artistry that God himself would be impressed with his stewardship, he told himself.
His British guests were nice young folk, but he was just as glad not to have to play entertaining host just now. Theodoric had called for the synod, as Festus hoped - now all that remained was to prove the charges.
The papacy of Laurentius must be secured, he thought. [i]We must stand unified with Byzantium, if Roma and Christianity are to survive barbarianism.
Thay rushed out of the house, greeting her husband affectionately. Despite their years, he and his Gallic wife retained the spark of passion.
Following her greeting, she told him that a message had come from Ravenna - from Theodoric's court.
While she fetched him some wine, he opened the scroll.
"Damnation!"
"W-What is it?"
"The king has appointed Vidar as Visitor to the Papal Church."
"Vidar? My kinsman Brandius' foe?"
"Aye. And until the synod, he's ruling the Church. We made a mistake, letting him take Altinum; he's grown quire popular. If his base grows in Roma, the cause for union with the East could be set back by decades."
He had to see that Vidar would not keep his temporary power. But how?
[ December 26, 2005, 07:11 PM: Message edited by: Hey you ]
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"Lavarrus! Welcome home, my son!" Boltus greeted, descending the marble staircase to greet them.
"It is good to see you, father. I trust you remember-"
"The lady Eva. Or should I say Queen Eva?"
Eva smiled bitterly. "Although I am without a kingdom, I do prefer that my station is not forgotten. I will be a queen again, and soon."
"Of course," Boltus smiled reassuringly. "Come! We have much to discuss!"
Ascending the stairs, Eva silently marveled at Boltus' assembly of statues - gods half-forgotten, or soon to be in this increasingly one-god era. The image of Saturn she immediately recognized, and smiled in approval.
"The servants mention you are receiving a guest?" her husband asked.
"He is," said a man, stepping forward from the entryway.
Lavarrus' mind rebelled, unable to acquaint this person with his family estate.
Eva, less constrained by such an attachment, was still surprised, even so. "Mekt?"
"Come inside, my friends. We have much to catch up on."
[ December 26, 2005, 07:13 PM: Message edited by: Hey you ]
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Theodoric sipped his wine, listening to his ministers make their reports. The northern borders were secure, relations with Byzantium and the Vandal kingdoms in Africa were going well enough. So far so good.
"What news of Symmachus, the pope?" he asked.
"His Grace has agreed to the synod, but... has refused to see your Visitor, Bishop Vidar."
"How fares Vidar in ministering the Church? Any problems?" the king asked.
"No, your majesty. The other bishops are all quite... cooperative."
Theodoric nodded. Maybe Festus is right. Maybe Laurentius' papacy should be recognized, that Byzantium can deal with church matters, not I.
He shook his head.
He'd heard rumours that Vidar had been thrown out of Britain by a young headstrong king, although Vidar never spoke of it. While he never thought ill of his friend, there were many times he wished his people had taken Iberia, and the Visigoths could bother with all the Church politics.
"Davius?"
"Yes, my liege?"
"Have Kenzius dispatched to Britain, and have him... evaluate this new king I hear of."
"Kenzius of Nuhorra?"
"The same."
If anyone could be entrusted to such a mission so far from home, it is surely Kenzius, thought Theodoric. The man lets nothing interfere with duty.
[ December 26, 2005, 07:14 PM: Message edited by: Hey you ]
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BOOK III: CAMELOT RISING One Hundred and Twenty-one
"Tell us another story about King Rokk and his knights, cousin Mysa," pleaded Gaheris.
"Please, my lady?" echoed Harlack.
"Boys. Mysa has already told you tales about the knights fighting a legion of monsters, about an imp who seems to slay all the knights but one, and a villain who resurrects three ancient foes of old," Morgause admonished. "Enough tales for this eve, now off to bed!"
The two boys reluctantly scampered off. A third, far too young to do so, remained cradled in the queen of Lothian's arms.
"My niece, you are as saintly as any of Rome's best to be so good to the boys."
Mysa blushed. "They are just being boys. Like any, they yearn for tales of adventure."
"As if Lot's fending off of Northmen, Scots and Picts is not adventure enough, they fawn over each and every word of Rokk's court! A charismatic young man is my nephew, that even unseen, he steals my sons' hearts!"
"Speaking of that, where is your young- second youngest? Gareth?"
"You see the Khund boy, Harlack?"
"Yes?"
"I am fostering Kiritan's boy, and he is fostering Gareth."
"You trust your son to Khunds?"
"No, not really. But diplomacy is diplomacy, and the Kentish Khunds are not about to pack up and leave. Most have now been born on this island. Better tame the house dog to fend off the wild dogs."
"Vortigern's strategy," Mysa reminded her.
"Vortigern gave away the keys to the kingdom. Nay, keeping the Khunds to their limits makes far better sense," Morgause sighed.
"Is it not for the high king to decide statecraft?"
"How quick to your brother's defense! Why, I remember a young child jealous of the attention her infant brother-" Seeing Mysa's gaze, she redirected herself to the question at hand.
"Yes, it is. But last year, no one expected Rokk's reign to last through the winter, and long-term stratagems had to be readied."
"Stratagems you'll now share, of course."
"Of course." Morgause looked almost sincere in saying so. "Where is you handsome escort?" she changed the subject.
"James? He rode out to check on some of the defenses," she said, but thinking, and to seek out the remains of Angtough.
James' main mission up here in the north was to serve as regent for six months, to see to coastal defenses and monitor Lot's behavior since surrender - just as other knights were doing in Angle lands and Kent, but Rokk had asked a few extra favours of James, and James relished being counted on as one of Rokk's top knights.
"He's afraid of me, you know," Morgause said, somewhat amused by the fact.
"Why?"
"He probably thinks young Medrod is his," she said, slightly lifting the sleeping baby in reference.
"Is he?" Mysa was shocked.
"It's possible," her aunt winked. "But I suspect not."
Seeing her niece's expression, she added, "You of all people should not be so scandalized. Lot's never had cause to doubt that I've born him four sons that are his beyond dispute - you've seen them all. I've never rebuked him for any of his bastards, so he has no cause to rebuke me for this one."
Morgause gently ran her finger along the baby's face. "Younger knights can be such a joy. Eh, Mysa?" With James spending the summer, she decided that she must find a way to put the young man at ease once again.
[ December 26, 2005, 07:16 PM: Message edited by: Hey you ]
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"I'm afraid not, Querl. Better to find out this way than in a truly hostile situation," L'ile advised.
Querl sighed. He'd been through the ringer, it was true, and if Iaime's magic belt would save him future hardships, then it was worth the experiment now.
He, L'ile and Dyrk waited patiently for Garth, who indeed returned with a mercenary in tow.
"This is the man!" Garth proclaimed, pointing at Querl. "He owes me money. Kill him with your bare hands!" He tossed the mercenary a gold coin.
"A scrawny little green freak like you, this'll be no trouble at all!" he charged at Querl. Despite the scientist's best intentions to remain still, he found himself evading the brute. What if the belt needs active resistance? he queried.
"Stand still, damn you! I'll make it less painful for you if you'll just-" He successfully grabbed Querl's robe, and pulled him close with one hand, pummeling him with the other.
After landing a few blows and stunning his opponent, the mercenary secured a choke-hold for a few seconds before Dyrk's sword interrupted him.
"You've earned your coin. Now let him go," the Roman ordered.
The mercenary looked to Garth, who nodded. He followed his principal’s instruction.
"Just wanted to scare him, eh? No problem," he said, standing up. "Pay's pay. You could have told me, though."
"It had to seem truly authentic," Garth said. "You may be on your way," he flipped the man an extra coin of silver.
"Querl? Are you all right?" L'ile asked.
Coughing a little, the man replied that he was. "So much for 'magic belts.' Just as I suspected, it was Iaime's fortune - not his belt - that kept him from harm."
"Not necessarily. Maybe it requires that you believe in it," Dyrk ventured.
"Aye. Like the various persuasion techniques we've discussed," L'ile continued on his idea.
"But Querl said he's accepted that there is magic afoot here in Britain," Garth reminded.
"Aye, as a working theory with the lack of any alternative. But I guess part of my mind still refuses to accept it, and insists that there must be another explanation that fits into the natural order of the world."
"Who says magic isn't a part of the natural order?" L'ile countered. Seeing Querl starting to remove the belt, he continued, "No, Querl, leave it. There's nothing like a near-death experience to make a convert out of a man."
Querl nodded. "Perhaps my knowledge that, even though the mercenary attempted to kill me, I was never truly in danger may have failed to activate any magical protective properties."
"Perhaps. I guess the only real test will be in the field," L'ile concluded. Dyrk nodded.
"Joy is mine!" Querl sarcastically declared. "Let us get back to the palace. Reep is no doubt waiting for the next strategy session on Roxxius."
Indeed, for a second season, Khundish raiders had been scant, but Roxxius was already proving as terrifying a threat, with far fewer men.
[ December 26, 2005, 07:18 PM: Message edited by: Hey you ]
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His ships were well full of all the gold, all the spices and treasures the city held, while what pathetic soldiers in the absent King Mekt's service there were here offered little resistance at all.
It was a good day, except for one thing. San Graal was not here.
Roxxius knew that one of King Rokk's allies had it, and he would not rest until it was his.
Never.
Hi ships set sail, and vanished into the spring twilight. No one would ever catch them. No one knew how.
[ December 26, 2005, 07:19 PM: Message edited by: Hey you ]
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Tinya liked Lindum well enough, and it was a pleasant break from Londinium.
As glad as she was to be alive again, those she thought she knew so well, who she'd spent so many months with unseen, didn't know her as she knew them. And the fact that she may have (and sometimes did) seen them unawares in private circumstance did little to better her in their eyes.
Only Jo and the queen accepted her as one they knew - as they had known her as a phantom. Saihlough, too - but the little faerie had gone missing since midwinter, sulking perhaps at her use of magicks to disguise Ayla as Garth.
Lindum itself was a likeable city - a northern Roman town like her Eboracum, not nearly so large and impersonal as Londinium was becoming. Here only weeks, she already knew many names and faces from the marketplace alone.
And it was also a different type of city - despite its Roman architecture, it was an Angle town, with Anglish and Latin both mingled and mangled.
"Good day, milady," greeted the woman who sells ham-hocks. "Can I interest you in a fine cut of swine?"
"Good day. Not to-day, my good lady," she smiled. All the older ladies treated her like their queen - or at least a princess, as Lindum would host her upcoming wedding to Jonah.
That Eboracum did not host the event would aggravate her mother, she knew - as did her fiancé - and the thought made her smile. Let her tend to the traitor Tarik for all I care!
Jonah had well settled in here, and although Belinant's retainers had given him some trouble, he enlisted those looking to make good with King Rokk, and found his way to circumvent those who would not.
All things in consideration, things were going well. The coastal forts were being rebuilt, and again the Khundish were few between.
"There you are," she heard Jonah say from behind her, as she inspected a piece of fabric.
"Spending your moneys. Where else should I be?"
He gently grabbed her and kissed her from behind. "I'm just sorry our wedding must take back-burner to the task at hand."
"Be not silly, my love. The security of state is in the hands of King Rokk and his knights. And you are a most indispensable knight." She leaned back into his embrace, savoring the moment. A gently spring breeze tickled her hair against her face.
They made their way to the edge of the market. As the first fair of the season, the marketplace spewed out beyond the city gates, and soon they were at the woodland's edge. He clasped her hands together, and kissed them with such gentleness that Tinya knew the court ladies could never believe.
"My love." he whispered, and they lost themselves deep in each other's eyes.
He again started to speak, but his eyes darted to the right and his expression changed to one of anger - even fear.
"You." Tinya knew that anger belonged only to one foe - but there was no one to be seen.
"Jonah?"
"Stay back, Tinya. Climb a tree. Let him not get near you," he said, drawing his sword and positioning himself between her and -- no one.
"Let who get near me?"
Jonah turned briefly to her with a look of disbelief. "You cannot see him?" He turned back, only to find the spot as empty as Tinya saw.
"Keep your eyes alert," he said, slowly advancing to the place where he had seen his nemesis. "No footprints, no hoof-marks," he said. "And you saw naught?"
"No one but you and I."
He sighed. "Maybe Dyrk is partly right of me, then."
"Nay. love. When I was a ghost, I saw him, too."
"Is he part phantom, then? The ghost of some foe I've already struck down?"
The thought hung there, interrupted by three short blows from a horn, followed by a long one.
"That's the signal for Roxxius! Come, my love - there may not be much time!"
[ December 26, 2005, 07:20 PM: Message edited by: Hey you ]
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