Those supposed to be the best craftsmen in Londinium have failed to build my designs. Do expect too much of them — or myself? Querl asked himself.
Not much else was going well, either. Reep's poison expert Tenzil, who claimed he could detect hundreds of poisons, failed to determine what had been used on the Ulsterwoman. Nor did she herself know, it seemed. Have the Khunds a poison we cannot identify?
As if this wasn't enough, while he had successfully convinced Beren and L'ile to show him the basics of the persuasion techniques, this, too was going nowhere. The Druidic concept of focusing on the rhythms of the Mother Earth were at odds with his mind's workings.
Rather than spread his frustration among his crews, he's sent them home early. Better they think me a kind task-master than a tyrant, he half-smiled. And it gives me chance to think.
Think.
It seemed he'd not done as much of that as usual. This, at least, he had an answer for.
Laoraighll.
He dismissed the distraction, trying instead to identify the first problem to overcome.
If I replace the wooden frame with metal, that should give it the strength it needs to balance the payload duct.
And make it more portable.
Yes! I believe I may have someth-
"Brainius V?"
Another distraction. Damn.
"Brainius?" It was Nura -- with Laoraighll in tow.
"Please call me Querl, your highness."
"Only if you call me Nura," she smiled. "And of course you know-"
"G-Greet-ings, Bran-nius Vee," managed Laoraighll, in very basic, halting Latin.
"Dia daoibh, Laoraighll," he replied.
She smiled, more comfortable with his Gaelic than her own Latin. "Dia daoibh," she responded.
"Laoraighll wanted to-"
"Go raibh míle maith agat aire a thabhairt do me," Laoraighll interjected.
"Níl a bhuíochas ort or tá fáilte romhat," Querl replied, smiling. "Querl atá air."
Laoraighll's giggle made him realize he was slightly off in his translation. "Dia daoibh... Querl."
"I'll just leave you two to talk, then," Nura offered.
"Oh! My apologies-" Querl realized the queen of Cornwall was being neglected. "Gabh mo leithscéal," Laoraighll similarly offered.
"Ceart go leor," Nura said, smiling as she departed.
"Tu ar ais ar a seanléim?" Querl asked.
"Well e-nuff," Laoraighll managed. "Still can't ken. I? I have not been... ill, previous. Even as a leanbh."
Querl guessed this meant "child."
"Never? Only since you traveled here?"
"Travel, I have little of. My bráthair Eltrough is the traveler of family. He travels with Brendan."
Querl smiled. Crossing the language barriers had their frustrations, yet like her poisoning, they were also puzzles to solve.
[ December 26, 2005, 05:08 PM: Message edited by: Hey you ]
From: Vancouver, BC, Canada | Registered: Dec 2003
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posted
Notes 41-46: 41: I admit it, I cheated on the Latin. Rather than try to construct what Mysa would actually be saying, I took a piece of miscellaneous Latin verse that didn't mention any specific person or place, and plugged it in. Maybe any Latophiles can guess from where I stole it! As I hope is obvious, everyone is usually assumed to be speaking Latin, as actual English as we know it is a millennium or so away, and thus Mysa's bit was done to show Laoraighll's perspective, and we obviously switch languages when Imra runs into Garth. 42: The hardest part of writing Mysa is not making her too much like MZB's Morgaine. Luckily, TMK's Mordru/Mysa relationship helps a lot. Also, being chapter 42, I had to throw a nod to Douglas Adams. 43: About as cold as I envisioned, without being forced. I hope. 44: I've been looking for a way to get Luornu off the back burner, but it actually came along at a good time, as a new angle has struck me for her storyline here in the 40s. 45: Something is rotten in the state of Anglia? All the villains but one here are pure Arthurian. The camp scene, along with James' innocence, as I wrote this had me thinking of "Stand By Me." 46: Along with 45, I'm finally happy with my take on Dyrk.
[ December 26, 2005, 05:10 PM: Message edited by: Hey you ]
From: Vancouver, BC, Canada | Registered: Dec 2003
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quote:Originally posted by Harbinger: Kent, you continue to amaze me with this! Mysa and Mordru - yick! Though also very telling! I found the scene with Lu to be really touching - nice characterisation, I like how savvy you've allowed Dyrk to be, and then there's Gawaine vanishing - oh dear! More, more, more! And have a merry Xmas too
Bxx
Thanks, and Merry Xmas to you, too!
Everyone else (I know there's at least a few more of you reading this), PLEASE stop by and say 'hi!'
It's like LSH without a letter column, otherwise!
[ December 24, 2004, 01:38 PM: Message edited by: Kent Shakespeare ]
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Jonah fought the Green Knight for five nights and four days.
The first night's fight began in Belinant's woods, and continued into the nearby River Trent. They fought, even while dragged along by the currents, until separated by the river's tidal courses.
Finding themselves on opposite shores as the morning's early lights arrived, they chased at each other northward toward the ferry station at Gaini, where the Roman road from Belinant's Lindum crosses for those bound to Deva, Eboracum or the North. Jonah made better time than his armoured opponent, now horseless.
Battle rejoined before mid-day on Gaini's west shore, as Jonah not only reached the crossing first, but also was able to gain the use of an extra shield that the ferry master was willing to part with.
The battle waged southwest of Gaini, with Jonah able to drive his opponent backward, striking many strong blows against his formidable foe.
The adversaries fought all through the remaining daylight, and well into the night, until a rainstorm allowed the Green Knight to slip away.
Jonah took his rest in the ruins of an old Roman farmhouse, awaking at every twig-breaking or leave-rustling committed by the many deer, hares and mice that grazed nearby.
At first light, Jonah resumed the hunt, following his quarry's tracks to the edge of Perilous Forest, where the ogre Validus was said to lurk. There, the Knight tried to ambush Jonah, and the two again fought all day, all night, and most of the next day.
Late in the afternoon, a distant pounding sound grew closer, and began sounding like a giant's footsteps. The trees shook, and he and his opponent separately took cover as the monster approached.
The encroaching darkness made the ogre naught by a ferocious shape between the trees. Had he not been fighting for days, Jonah may have had a go at the terror, but thought against it. Once the giant was gone, Jonah found his opponent had again vanished.
Finding a small cave in which to rest, Jonah awoke on the fourth day to lie low, as a band of marauders made their way through the woods. Exhausted, Jonah let them pass, as there were too many to face alone in his tired state. Unsure whether he was awake or not, he dreamed that he saw Tinya drifting through the woods, looking for him.
He awoke again midday, despite the lull of a persistent rain, barely softened by the forest canopy. From his vantage, he surmised, he could see his opponent when he returns.
Yet he was surprised when another knight wandered through the woods below him, trying to track the bandits despite the rain. Good venture, good knight. I wish I could aid -or trust- you.
Weariness overcame him, and he rested again.
A woman's scream awoke him that night. That was no dream, he was certain.
He charged out of the cave, into a rain now little stronger than a drizzle. Which way?
"Jonah! This way!" It was Tinya! She'd caught up with him.
He followed her through the woods, and came to a small encampment in a small ravine: a cloak propped up with branches to serve as a shelter, a small fire, wisely hidden by the ravine walls and nearby shrubs, various travel gear - and a small pool of blood.
But where-
Jonah!"
Out of nowhere, the Green Knight attacked.
I am too weary for this, Jonah noted, but then the knight must be, too?
He led the knight off for a half hour or more, but barely raised any offensive maneuvers at all.
The knight, too, was taking sloppy swings, as if barely able to summon the energy to continue. If Tinya had but the sting of an insect, she could finish him, he thought. One last try.[/i]
Summoning his last reserves, he lunged forward, striking the knight down, but passing out on top of him...
[ December 26, 2005, 05:12 PM: Message edited by: Hey you ]
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Word of Gawaine's battles at Gaini with the Green Knight spread like wildfire.
While Thom carried word back to Londinium, James and Dyrk tried their best to follow the elder knight.
Based upon what the ferry master recalled of his visit from the knight, and a roaming Druid's sighting of Jonah while crossing the back country, they found themselves at the edge of Perilous Forest, wondering where Jonah, or even the rumoured stealthy knight who protected visitors to these woods, might be.
With too much rain of late to track accurately, they strolled in on their mounts, with Jonah's steed and gear in tow. But the hours were proving fruitless.
"Would you look at the size of that footprint!" exclaimed Dyrk. "Why, that's even bigger than yours!"
James dismounted, and measured the print with his feet. It was three boot-lengths wide, and at least seven long. "Only two toes," he remarked.
"We have ogres in Cumbria's mountains, but I've never seen one this big."
"Aye?" asked Dyrk, looking distracted.
"Oh, yes, my father's killed a dozen, so they say. Still, it's a dragon that most irks him. A rather bothersome wyrm that terrorizes the lake villages. Now, most of your lake dragons are no more quarrelsome than a wild boar. That is, unless you..."
Dyrk had tuned out the younger knight.
We are being watched.
He drew his sword.
"Did I say something wrong?" asked James.
A lone rock bounced down the hill, coming to a stop at the edge of the footprint.
"It's back!" James exclaimed in a panic.
"I doubt the creature that makes these tracks tosses small stones," Dyrk dismissed the younger man's fears. "Come on. Over that hill!"
Scarcely waiting for James to remount, Dyrk rode up and over, seeing a figure flee ahead of him.
"Halt!"
The figure stopped not.
Dyrk chased, aware that this could be an ambush, but intuition told him this was the rumoured guardian of the woods, not a blackguard like Caradoc.
The figure passed over the rise of the hill. By the time Dyrk arrived, scant seconds later, the figure was gone.
"Over here!" called a small boy, standing by a small cave on the next hillside.
There was no way the runner could have reached the cave, yet where did he go?
With James, who had caught up by now, they rode slowly toward the cave.
"Who are you boy? And to where did the one who led us here vanish?" Dyrk demanded.
The boy smiled and shrugged. "Sir Gawaine is in here!" he announced proudly.
The knights exchanged looks of suspicion. Dyrk dismounted, instructing James to watch for trouble - inside or out.
Inside the small cave, Dyrk easily made out the silhouette of Jonah, who lied beside a small campfire.
"The lady said his fever broke this morning. He should live, she says!" the boy beamed.
Feeling his comrade's forehead, he asked the boy, "What lady? May I speak with her?"
"She left. She said if other knights came, she would guide them here, but not come back herself.
"I think she's the lady of the knight who now guards the woods," he volunteered.
"Then she has earned my thanks. You may tell her if you see her," Dyrk gently patted Jonah on the cheeks. "Are you still with us, old fellow?"
Jonah awoke groggily.
"Dyrk? Where's Tinya?"
"You tell me," laughed the Roman.
"I held her, Dyrk. I really held her."
"Of course you did. Rest well, and we'll travel in the morn. I'll not have King Rokk scold me for letting his favorite cousin miss his wedding day!"
He held his lady Tinya? Either his fever made him delusional, or he was closer to the next world than I'd like to know.
[ December 26, 2005, 05:14 PM: Message edited by: Hey you ]
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"Well enough, my king," Jonah felt sheepish about his lingering illness, and even more so about his now-legendary fight with his nemesis - of which his own recollections were not the best.
In contrast from the rags that his field tunic had become, the cousins were being dressed in the finest silks for the ceremony at hand.
"You must be nervous."
"Not so much," Rokk protested, a bit too quickly to sound casual, while his fidgety mannerisms betrayed him further. Jonah laughed, and even Rokk had to grin at his own behavior.
"I WAS going to tell him," Jonah said. "Give me a chance, will you?"
The attendant took a step back. "Not you," Jonah assured him. "I was speaking with an angel."
The attendant resumed his duties, choosing to ignore the situation rather than guess its accuracy.
"Tell me what?" Rokk was curious, and pleased for a distraction. He hoped it was something strategic or militarian rather than political.
"Tinya says she saw my mother in hushed discussions with Zaryan, of all people."
"A queen may talk to a fellow monarch," Rokk posited. "Even so, you would think she's be a bit more... politick about it. Reep will let us know if she has a mind for treason."
"Aye, we hope. She's still too canny to assume the best about," Jonah said, still feeling a measure of guilt for saying such about his own mother.
"We have repelled three Khundish raiding parties this season alone. Even if Zaryan plans treachery, I cannot believe, with all Britain behind us, that we will fail."
Jonah hoped his kinsman wasn't being too trusting of his vassal kings, but held his tongue. Any alliance of all Britain would be fragile indeed, given monarchs' proclivities to feud amongst themselves.
"I thought Garth would be joining us this morn."
"Aye, he was, but he begged leave to ready himself privately. He... is not of good humour of late."
"The perpetually smiling favorite knight of the ladies? Down and out? Perhaps he actually gave his heart to one of his loves!" jested the elder.
Rokk grimaced, and Jonah realized his jest had hit the mark. While Rokk was being pushed into an arranged marriage with a beautiful princess, Garth was joining ranks with himself and Thom in receiving the searing end of the heart's iron.
"Ah, two fine young men indeed!" said a visitor.
"Father Marla" Rokk greeted. "I trust all's in order, and you're not here to tell me the lady's come to her senses and fled?" Rokk joked.
Marla laughed. "Nay, all is right. I just wanted to make sure you two were in order as well!"
"It's good to see you," Jonah greeted Rokk's longtime clergyman.
"And you, Jonah." The priest returned the warm greeting, recalling their quest together, when Rokk had him watch over his kinsman to prove once and for all his allegiances.
"My deed here done, I should let you two finish up, and I will see you shortly," the father said. "Oh, and there's a Lady Kiwa to see you? She was quite insistent?"
Rokk lit up. "Yes! Send her in!" The king turned to Jonah. "May I ask-?"
Jonah took the hint. "I shall see you downstairs."
Rokk dismissed the attendant with the other men, and waited for his benefactor's arrival.
"My lord and king!" Kiwa greeted and bowed.
"Please, my lady. I'll not ask such formalities of you."
Kiwa smiled. "I am but a humble priestess. Yet you treat me like a queen."
"As Lady of Avalon, Lady of the Lake, you are a queen, after a kind. And, I confess, while I hold few memories before I came to Sir Brandius, I must say you do remind me of my mother." Rokk eyed her, hoping to discern a reaction, but her face could bluff an emperor.
"I am flattered you think such of me. But other than swearing loyalty and support, all I have done is see your sword repaired, and adorned a scabbard for it."
"And line up a beautiful bride who shall help me keep Britain united."
"You like her, don't you?" Kiwa knew yet how young hearts worked.
"Thus far, aye. But I must ask a gift of you, here, on my wedding morning.
"I want- nay, I need -
"The truth about Mordru. As only you can give it," he said, eyeing her again. "My Lady."
[ December 26, 2005, 05:18 PM: Message edited by: Hey you ]
From: Vancouver, BC, Canada | Registered: Dec 2003
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She held him close from behind. "It's the first high court wedding in a generation. It's supposed to be a bit much."
"I know, b-but," his voice was breaking up.
"Shhh." She moved around to face him, and held him quietly. "You'll get through this day. Let me help."
He returned her hug, as if clinging on for deal life...
Having gotten that out, he was ready to face the worst. He strolled down the palace halls with Mysa on his arm, drawing gazes from all. Perhaps he still had all along these past months, but had reason not to notice until now.
They parted, Mysa to join the ladies, and Garth met his fellow groomsmen, Lot, Reep, Brandius, Jonah, and Agravaine, at the front of the crowded plaza.
Following the exchange of greetings, Jonah asked, "Who is yon lady?" He pointed out one of the young women who would soon become Guinevere's court ladies.
"She is my ward Luornu," answered Brandius.
"Has she just arrived from Elmet?"
"No. She's been here since coronation," Garth replied.
"She reminds me of the maiden who cared for me whilst I was ill."
"She often gets mistaken for others, she tells me," Brandius said. "And, as I hear it, you were rather ill?"
"Yes, I suppose I was," Jonah said, still eyeing Luornu.
She, in turn, was not bothered by his gaze - surprising her normally shy self. If anything, she suddenly felt… protective, almost motherly of the knight, even though he was clearly her elder.
Lot made a veiled comment about Jonah's name change, which Agravaine intercepted with jest. "Maybe my big brother has started a trend. Perhaps I'll change my name next!"
Garth grimaced at the sight of Khunds in the hall - even "allied" Kentish Khunds. Zaryan waved a greeting to the men, but Garth had an uneasy feeling...
Jonah caught sight of Winifred, who was sitting with the elderly king of Elmet. She scowled at him. Tinya drifted behind her and made faces, which only Jonah could see. His devilish grin further infuriated the lady.
Brandius, satisfied that he had diffused Jonah's curiosity, and glad to indirectly hear news of Lu, winked at Luornu - and at Laurentia, who had found a discreet veil and an even more discreet escort, L'ile.
Reep caught Querl's eye, and the two exchanged silent greetings. He was impressed at how relaxed and happy he seemed with Laoraighll at his side. Perhaps what they say of the Greeks is less than true. He wondered how L'ile felt about this new twist.
Agravaine, too, was curious about the Ulsterwoman, but in a totally different way. They way she fights - with hands as weapons. I must look into this further.
Lot saw his second son gazing at the woman, and surmised a different conclusion. These Ulster Scoti wild-men are moving in on my Caledonia - and my second son, my best hope, looks upon their women? What madness takes my sons, that they choose their women so poorly?
His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Father Marla, meaning it was almost time...
[ December 26, 2005, 05:19 PM: Message edited by: Hey you ]
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"Please, come in," Imra said, about to call him "father," but the look in his eyes told her not to.
"You are not my Guinevere." It wasn't a question.
"No. I am not."
"What have you done with her?"
"Nothing. You know the truth. When I asked you to forgive Jeka. Remember."
"Tell me not what to do, you harlot!" He slapped her face. "Now TELL ME!"
"As we both know, Guinevere died as a child, in an icy pond."
"That's a lie! She recovered! She grew up, into a fine young woman," he pleaded. "Don't you remember?"
It hurt her to look into his eyes. She dared not look inside his mind.
She sighed. I cannot hurt this man further on this day. Not even if it is for the best.
"I remember how proud you were to see me betrothed to the High King. I thought you'd be proud of me - that you loved me."
"I do, my Guinevere, I do. And I am so proud of you," he smiled warmly.
"Then let us not quarrel today, of all days," she smiled. "Would you walk me to my husband?"
"Yes. I think that is a most excellent idea, if you mind not being seen with such a withered old man," he jested.
"Oh, father! You must stop!" she laughed alongside him.
Jeka, at the door to fetch her "sister," stepped quickly away, so as not to be heard.
"Princess Jeka? Are you ill?" asked Morgause.
"It's my sister's wedding day. I must be overcome with joy," she replied. She grabbed onto Morgause, and let loose into a full wail while hugging the woman.
"Yes... You must," Morgause said, not certain what else to do or say.
[ December 26, 2005, 05:21 PM: Message edited by: Hey you ]
From: Vancouver, BC, Canada | Registered: Dec 2003
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"A wedding day is a most special time. Yet it makes a man more nervous than waiting for combat, ay?"
"Hello Mordru. Shan’t you be outside?"
"I'll not mar your wedding with my presence. No, lad. I bid you greetings on your wedding day, and I'll make myself scarce."
As the old wizard started to depart, Rokk called after him.
"There were three. There was Ambrosius. There was Uther, who was not Ambrosius. And there was Constans. Which were you. Which are you?"
Rokk eyed him with deadly seriousness.
"King Constantine had three sons," said Mordru. You have named them all.
"Constans was made high king, succeeding Constantine, who was poisoned by Pictish assassins, or so they say. Constans, still a lad not unlike yourself, took on Vortigern as advisor, and Vortigern had him killed, so he could become king.
"Uther and Ambrosius fled to Lesser Britain. When Vortigern lost his grip and gave the Khund the keys to the isle, Ambrosius led the revolt, unifying all of Britain once more."
"So, all this time I'd been led to believe Uther and Ambrosius were one and the same. But they weren't, were they... Uther?" Rokk said at last.
"Call me not that name, boy." There was outright malice in Mordru's voice. "Uther -whoever he was- was made the high king of Britain by Avalon, and thus holds they key to unity.
"But he let Ambrosius rule in his place - his brother, who never made vows to the Holy Isle. We had it both ways - Avalon bound to us, but the ruling high king had no reciprocal oath. Avalon hated us for it, once they learned our deception - but could do naught, else undo the peace.
"You'd be wise to let sleeping dragons lie, boy-king." Mordru continued to walk away.
"WHICH ONE ARE YOU?" Rokk demanded, now red-faced.
"Should you not ask which was truly your father? I'll answer not your questions any longer." As he walked away, he muttered, "Three bodies, one soul."
Thom came upon them. "Rokk? It's time." He looked questioningly at Rokk's anger, and the old wizard hobbling away. "Have the guards take Mordru to the dungeons," Rokk told his knight.
At least he's no longer nervous, Thom thought.
[ December 26, 2005, 05:22 PM: Message edited by: Hey you ]
From: Vancouver, BC, Canada | Registered: Dec 2003
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Thom returned, taking his seat between his father, King Marcus, and Sir Dyrk.
"I'm worried about Jonah," Dyrk said in a whispered hush.
"Why?"
"He looks as if he talks to himself."
"It's his ghost-love, the Lady Tinya."
"Aye, perhaps," Dyrk said. "But who else has seen her? Saihlough, the faerie? Anyone else?"
"You say he's mad?"
"Not necessarily. But suppose--
"No one's even seen this 'Green Knight' either. He supposedly first turned up way in the north, when Lady Tinya died, as I understand, then one day here in Londinium, during a chaotic chase where no witnesses were sure about who was chasing who, and then again just recently.
"I'd not be surprised to learn that the entire 'legend' people are repeating came back of the recent fight traces back to the ferry master - who else could distribute all this news?" Dyrk concluded.
"You do believe him a madman." Thom was shocked.
"I'll say it to no one else." He grabbed Thom's arm. "I beseech thee, keep watch over him. I do pray I'm wrong."
Dyrk's eyes made Thom give the concept pause. He'd been considering Dyrk the madman, but what if he was right?
Thom nodded, and leaned forward, resting his head on his arms, which in turn rested on his knees.
"Cheer up, son. The feast to come will more than make up for the wait!" Marcus said, patting him on the back.
"Great," Thom said still absorbing Dyrk's theory, "Just great."
[ December 26, 2005, 05:24 PM: Message edited by: Hey you ]
From: Vancouver, BC, Canada | Registered: Dec 2003
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Normally, she followed Rokk's request to limit such activities to late night hours, but the palace was almost deserted today, with everyone outside.
"Lúcháir!" she exclaimed, not caring who may hear.
She rounded the corner, building speed, and flew right over a group of a half-dozen men. "Oops!" she whispered, getting herself out of sight.
"What was that?" asked one of the men.
"Probably a pigeon."
"We should join the ceremony. We are running late," said one of the older men, who Saihlough guessed was a king.
"Agreed, brother," said another king-looking fellow. "Come along, Turquine, if you would."
"Caradoc," replied the man, of middle years.
"Ah, yes. Right. 'Caradoc,' then." He turned to his brother. "I tire of such deceptions, Belinant."
"We'll dispense of ours hence King Rokk dispenses with his," sneered the other. "Guinevere, indeed! Rokk loves ladies in lakes - especially when they are cold priestesses!"
The men laughed, and made their way outside to the ceremony.
"Why am I the only one to overhear such evil deeds," Saihlough asked herself. "Cause nobody sees me," she giggled.
Now, she had to tell someone. Where was Mysa?
[ December 26, 2005, 05:27 PM: Message edited by: Hey you ]
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"Settle down, girls, or I'll have you removed before the ceremony even starts!" King Zendak said in a harsh whisper.
His daughters, Virginia and Siobhan, reluctantly obeyed.
The High King entered, and the crowd burst out in applause.
"He's sooo handsome!" crowed Virginia.
"Hmph. I imagined he'd be of fair hair," said Siobhan, disappointed.
The priest and groomsmen were gathered, and the Mariti procession was lined up behind the dais. The chorus began singing, and the bride's maidens started their procession, tossing flower pedals out over the crowd.
The girls whispered among themselves, wondering which maidens and ladies were which. Their father could have told them: Jeka, Mysa, Nura, Jancel, Zoe and Morgause; but that would only encouraged more chattering.
Nearby, King Wynn and his wife, Queen Martina chuckled with amusement. Their own daughter was a similar age, and like these girls lived for all the high court gossip.
Everyone gasped at the bride's entry: a classic Roman white dress, with flame-coloured veil that surrounded her face without covering it, and matching shoes.
"What's the knot for?" whispered Siobhan, referring to the traditional Roman gown's waist-level knot.
"That's for a... more private part of the ceremony, later, and I'll tell you not to speak again!"
Although relatively close, they could not hear the words uttered, the vows and the ceremony, beyond some of the pronouncements and liturgy projectfully delivered by the priest.
The girls were squirming, straining to see, ready to ask what was going on, but one look from their father kept the peace.
When Father Marla concluded the ceremony, they would cheer, and being nobles, would stand in line to sign the witness book, and greet the couple. Then they would join the procession back to the palace, for the wedding feast...
[ December 26, 2005, 05:31 PM: Message edited by: Hey you ]
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The old king nodded at last, smiling, and Imra sighed in relief. Her "father" handed her over to Rokk, and Father Marla continued.
Imra felt as if she watched herself as a spectator, even while uttering her vow, "Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia."
Morgause stepped forward, joining the couple's hands, while Brandius did his part: taking the ceremonial blade, walking to the pig the guardsmen had tied up, and slit its throat.
Once Brandius was clear, they hoisted the pig in the air, its blood still spurting.
The crowd roared with appreciation.
Marla concluded the ceremony, and opened the book. The nobles lined up to sign, and to greet their high king and new high queen.
In the meantime, Tenzil and Mysa served the couple the cena, the wedding breakfast, and Brandius saw that the processional preparations were made, and the pig sent to the palace for roasting.
Noble after noble greeted the couple, a few sometimes hinting they knew of the deception by the way they said, "Guinevere."
Imra smiled, and took note of their faces. She dared not look at their minds, else alert them of her inherent gifts.
Rokk was also reunited with his childhood friend, Loomius, who came with one of Voxv's late-arriving crews. He hinted something about Voxv's wedding gift, but that took second place to the reunion.
Already overwhelmed, the couple took a look into each other’s eyes, and shared a silent laugh together.
There was more ritual and custom yet to come, but the worst was over, they knew - deceptions be damned!
I'd say we handled that well, Imra told him, with guests before them oblivious to her communication.
That's the beauty about being a monarch. You tell everybody else what to do, and you just have to make sure they do it, he laughed.
You make it sound easy, she replied, thinking about how frustrated Mysa and later Jeka would get, supervising the younger priestesses.
It's just a matter of surrounding yourself with good people. He squeezed her hand.
They interrupted the line of nobles - near its end, and embraced to kiss. The nobles, of course, minded not.
Not far away, Garth turned and walked away.
Alone.
[ December 26, 2005, 05:33 PM: Message edited by: Hey you ]
From: Vancouver, BC, Canada | Registered: Dec 2003
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The marriage chamber had been decorated with flowers, greenery, and fruit - all traditional symbols of fertility.
Morgause, serving in place of "Guinevere's" late mother, had helped Imra with the last of the rituals expected of a new wife, and the couple was on their own.
There was but one task left to finalize the wedding.
The party continued without them. The feasting hall was full of drunken nobles, celebrating as many probably had not in decades.
The streets, too, saw commoners drunk with good cheer. The hills all around Londinium -perhaps all across Britain- were lit with bonfires, and saw traditional fertility rites performed.
"Give them many excuse, and they'll revert to paganism," scowled Balan, watching from the palace's terrace.
"Perhaps they're feeling pagan enough to tolerate an Orkneyman's company," laughed his brother, setting out into the hills himself.
James, one of the younger and less worldly knights, was drunkenly taken with Virginia. Despite her own light-headedness from a single wine, she was almost ready to give into desire, as well - until Zendak interrupted, to take his daughters home.
"Poor boy," taunted Morgause. "A young knight needs... companionship."
Lot had already slipped away with a noblewoman's daughter.
She rubbed her hands over him, caressing his face. He smiled, even though half-passed out.
Reep scowled, and turned away, exiting to the terrace, where he found a kindred party-pooper in Balan.
Inside, Laoraighll carried a nearly passed out Querl off. Dyrk laughed, cheering them on, "Talasio!"
"Talasio!" a drunken Greek called back.
"What does that mean?" asked Luornu. "I've heard people saying that all night."
"It's a traditional Roman saying. Talasio was a popular, much-beloved Roman, and when a... worthy match was made, people celebrated, and still do - to this day."
His hand massaged hers. "Talasio," he whispered.
Luornu blushed, but did not protest when Dyrk refilled her goblet with wine.
Few were coherent enough to notice that a sudden wave of euphoria swept over everyone - a wave with a very feminine sensuality to it.
Jeka, alone with Agravaine, laughed, realizing what -or who- it was. She pulled the young knight closer.
Not long after, some of the loose metal objects began flying off the walls and tables, seemingly of their own accord, creating a few minor bruises and spilled drinks, but little other trouble.
[ December 26, 2005, 05:35 PM: Message edited by: Hey you ]
From: Vancouver, BC, Canada | Registered: Dec 2003
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