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Post by Anwen of Connacht on Nov 1, 2008 11:41:00 GMT -6
Anwen looked at Iain and smiled " Gardens and then Dinner... sounds delightful and promising." her tone was light. She knew well why she was here and would do all to bring Iain Robertson to the side that her husband stood on. No matter what it took.
She looped her hand through his offered arm and let him set the pace of their walk. " M'Lord being seeing with you shall be an honor as long as being seeing with myself does not bother you." she kept her eyes forward. " You flatter me Lord Robertson. and Nay I am not here to see the gardens though they are lovely. I have come to see you Lord Robertson, tis obvious you know that Lord William sent me. He would like to count you among those that would stand with him... when the time comes." oh yeah she knew she was being a bit cryptic but she was still trying to get a sense of this man this dark enigma and challenge William had given her.
Once back at her room she obtained she would send word to William letting him know how she was progressing. " These gardens may not be in all the splender they are in warmer weather but they are marvelous none the less." she said as she rubbed her arms against the chill breeze that blew. She reached up and pushed at a few wayward strands of her flame colored hair. " Well Lord Robertson. seeing the gardens has been a pleasure but I think I shall return to my room at the Inn so I can ready for our dinner this evening. What time and where shall I meet you so I can hire a carriage?" her voice smooth and sweet. Oh she had practiced long and hard to control her normally authorative tone to be more docile and accepting among the peerage here. Though she was more used to swinging a sword and commanding forces she would concede to do this for William her hearts desire.
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Post by Lady Rosalind Avalle on Nov 3, 2008 17:26:34 GMT -6
Rosalind did not know these roads specifically, but she knew the men that walked them. It was not safe for a lone woman at any time of day, be she Campbell or Lamont, English or Scot, highborn or low. She kept off the roads as much as she could, but if Scotland's brush prevented her pursuers from capturing her, it made for extremely slow going. After a while, she broke free of the forest and picked her way through fields prepared for winter. The second haying finished, and nothing but sweeping pastureland available to the sheep and cattle beyond the sparse farms, it was a long road to go before she reached safety. She looked like any other displaced villager. Her hair had long since fallen from order into chaos, and though her dress was a finely-dyed shade of emerald, its quality was no longer visible beneath nearly a week's worth of dirt and mud. What possessions she had left Aberdeen with were gone. Lack of sleep, proper nutrition, and the look of the hunted had transformed her aquiline beauty into something more feral. To add to the look of the wild woman, blood stained the sleeves of her dress up to the elbows, and in her right hand, she held what looked to be the leg of a chair. She was an utter realist in assessing her situation. The Lady Inveryne had no friends in these parts, even among the Campbells she had served for the past four years. Every person walking along the roadways, every voice she heard from her hiding places in the brambles, every sign of human habitation was a direct threat to her life. Rather than make her cold, the very desperation in her situation heated her blood. The nearness of her enemies only added fuel to the flames licking at her heart.
Yet as Rosalind had learned time and time again, determination did not make for success. Her Lamont kidnappers would pursue her west, so she went south toward Ayr. Though she pushed herself hard, she did not make any meaningful progress. Unable to enter villages for food, shelter, or clothing, she half-froze at night in abandoned shepherds' huts and stole eggs from hen houses, sheer stubbornness prevailing over the logical answer that she would never outrun her clansmen. And so it was with great anger, but very little surprise, that Rosalind found herself surrounded on the seventh day of her escape, facing far more weapons than absolutely necessary to detain one woman. She ran one hand through her hair and squared her shoulders, hardly realizing that far from cleaning herself up before the Highlanders surrounding her, it gave her the appearance of a territorial bird flaring its feathers against an unwelcome intruder. The piece of wood in her hand, held like a club, only made her image all the more ridiculous.
"Lower yer weapon, lass," one of the men ordered. Rosalind's fingers gripped the chair leg more firmly, until her knuckles blazed white. "We've no time for this, lady. Lower your weapon or we'll lower it for you." The words turned from broad Scots to French, though the tone of voice did not lessen in severity. Heaving a sigh, Rosalind threw down the chair leg. She even stood still as one of the footmen pulled her arms behind her back and bound her wrists with a spare leather strap. "I dinna make a habit of slaughtering defenseless women on the roadside, woman."
Rosalind could not help the brief note of derision that escaped her lips. The clansman laughed and shook his head, the sudden noise startling his skittish, war-trained horse. "Nor in private, either, but that is to my lordship's discretion. He waits for you in Lanark."
"Lanark?" she asked. For the first time in weeks, she was genuinely surprised. The Lamonts had apparently overshot their quarry. She could not understand why Fearghus Lamont had moved away from his target. With the Campbells distracted by battle, Inveryne was free for the taking. She frowned, but her thoughts were interrupted as her captors drew her upwards into a saddle.
"Aye, lady. There's mischief afoot in the south, and we ride to meet it. I willna ask how you parted company wi' Lamont, but his men have been sighted near Dumfries. Colban Campbell thought it safer to hide ye well away from the action."
Were it not for the strong arms around her, Rosalind would have fallen right out of her saddle. As it was, she stayed perfectly upright. It took her a moment to find her voice again. By that time, the order to press on to Lanark had been issued, and she now spoke over the crunch of hooves on loose dirt, and the clatter of men reorganizing themselves for the march south. "Ask me no questions, and I will have no cause to lie." Her words were simple and direct, and while they begged no questions except in the most foolhardy of souls, were said politely enough. "But I do thank you, my lord, for sparing my life this day."
"It would be no fun task for my men, to kill and bury a defenseless woman before battle. Time enough later for that."
"You are a most excellent captain," Rosalind said, attempting sincerity. Fortunately, her Campbell rescuer understood the intent of her words, even if the delivery was over-wry. He smiled, inclined his head politely, and rode on ahead of the troop. As they rode on to Lanark, her heart began to rejoice. Her time since leaving Aberdeen had been miserable. Perhaps luck had found her again, and just in the nick of time.
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Post by Lady Rosalind Avalle on Nov 4, 2008 17:18:10 GMT -6
Lanark served as one of the newer Norman settlements established over one hundred years earlier. Arranged much as Beauquesne was, with a centralized marketplace and a motte and bailey castle distinguishing Lanark from the dozen or so other nearby settlements that had been found lacking in King David's purpose. The wooden castle of Lanark became their destination, where the Bruce's banners stuttered in the autumn wind alongside those of Clan Campbell. Rosalind wondered why the Bruce's banners were flying. He surely was not in residence.
The bustling town seemed energized anew with the arrival of the Campbell troop. Hawkers cried their wares with more vigor, maids hurried by out of sight, doors and windows flung open to entice the clansmen indoors. Autumn was the perfect time to visit the market of Lanark. The city's streets were cool enough to hide the stink of a settlement without adequate drainage, and warm enough that one might stand up in a Scottish wind without losing fingers and toes to the cold in the effort. Despite Lanark's lively street entertainment and the constant jingle of coin, it was still a nasty and brutish place, a poor cousin to France's bastides.
She was dumped unceremoniously from her saddle onto the stones in the yard, and dragged to the straw-strewn floor of Lanark's great hall. All graciousness fled her captors now that a hot meal was near. She doubted they would waste no time after that continuing on to Dumfries, but it was far from her concern at the moment. Colban Campbell was indeed present, and he seemed the most senior of the men gathered in the hall. Yet he did not deign to rise from his chair, even as Rosalind struggled back to her feet. She knew how the game should be played, though, and did not doubt Colban's heart was still in the right place.
"She spoils my appetite," he growled, his low voice bouncing across the long walls. "Traitorous wench." At the last epithet, he tossed a greasy bone aside and reached for his cup of wine. No sooner had he taken a sip, but Rosalind was hurried away once again. The whirlwind motion of arriving, stopping, hurrying along left her breathless and sore. The sight of the food made her ravenous. Prodded into Lanark's cozy dungeon, Rosalind soon found herself less concerned with food, and more worried about her cell mates. She had never been fond of rats before, so hearing them skitter away at her arrival quickly squelched her hunger.
Rosalind sat down on the straw and planted her head in her hands. It wouldn't do to imagine dinner arriving any time soon. The Campbells would not waste food on a doomed prisoner. Colban might, but he could not risk showing sympathy for the Lady Inveryne. It might be a long time before he made contact. But at least for now, she was well quit of the Lamonts and their deranged chieftain. Fearghus was mad, but he was not suicidal. He might very well challenge the Campbells at Inveryne, but he would not send his men after her in a castle flying the Bruce's colors.
She uttered a very unmaidenlike oath as something scampered across the floor of her cell. Perhaps, she thought, the prisoners at Lanark were very well fed. Just not by their keepers.
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Lady Katerina
Respectable
Lady Katerina MacKinnon-Matheson
Posts: 89
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Post by Lady Katerina on Nov 5, 2008 14:58:31 GMT -6
Katerina felt foolish for leaving her conversation with Roac so abruptly but with night falling she wanted to be within the safety of her room at the Inn.
She kept turning and looking over her shoulder wondering where next someone would leap from at her... damn all she wanted was to begin to live and not constantly worry over where danger hid these days.
Roac had been friendly to her and offered her some small measure of comfort in these strange lands... and what had she done?? Run like a frightened child, that is what she had done!
Perhaps after a good nights sleep she would once more make for the Griffin Castle and not tarry anywhere... she had to speak with the Duke and Duchess, but first she had to find Shaden and know if her satchel had been recovered.
The contents were important to her though she had no idea what was written in the missives her father had written. All she knew was that it had to be something worth someone wanting them all dead for.
Upon reaching the Inn she made her way inside and headed straight to her room unaware that a man watched her from the moment she entered, however the Inn keeper had not missed the man's interest in the young girl who called herself Kate.
It might do well to watch the strange man, for the girl paid in cash and even a bit extra not your typical run of the mill girl that was for sure. He waved a buxom maid over and instructed her to keep the man occupied and get whatever information she could. Depending on what the man said would determine the Inn keeper's next move... he would even scroll a quick note to the Lord General Maahes and let him know of the strange mans sudden appearance and interest in Kate.
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Post by Sir Kendrew Campbell on Nov 6, 2008 14:08:08 GMT -6
"The reason he went forward now, for a man who said little of his life, was to preserve that new life which he wanted to speak of in fondness all the days of his life. He had become a vagrant; Kendrew denounced his King in favor of his deemed mad Lord and his wife whom he guarded. He spat upon his mantle and took up the mantle of dirt and grime, steel and blood. He rebelled against all of this to embrace a new part of himself. He went forward, to pull what was left of his past forward with him to the future with all intent to forsake the rest to the hell it all deserved to burn in."
The Wedding
Kendrew: The lot that Liliana endured for preparation was not his. He found, in this community of farmers, a piece of home that was missed so sorely to hear their laughter was to fill a hole in his heart that the wind played with. Tatterns and shorn remnants of a past that was not painful. In fact, his life was so good that the times of pain in later years haunted him deeply. He was full of barely beer, scotch, and a supper. The men talked with him of past loves, courtship, and nights so warm they rivaled the fires of Spring. An rag-tag band of brothers,they made a stranger one of them. In some way, he was. They left him to stand out on the edge of the woods with the friar, a man in a rough wool cassock. He smiled to the groom, who now found himself with the time sinking in.He was to marry. Liliana: It was much to endure. The prattle of Tilly and Milly, the liberties taken, seemed set to test her blushing skills. Liliana was not used to any of it. Yet, deep down, that part of her that had always longed for a Mother- the little girl inside- adored every bit of it. Ebony hair was brushed until it seemed to flow down her back like a silk waterfall and eventually the dress, it's robin egg blue color bringing out copper skin that glowed from happiness, was put on. A circlet woven of purple amaranths was placed upon her brow. Butterflies set a flutter in her stomach, chocolate eyes shining, as pink lips curved in a smile. Trembling hands were clasped in front of her, over her belly, as if to calm the nerves. "I..." She was unable to say a word as Milly and Tilly stood looking upon her with something akin to motherly pride. These women, complete strangers, had helped her as a Mother would have- if she'd have had one- and so they had that right. Kendrew: He stood on the edge of the village, just before the woods. He stood on the edge of one life while waiting for the new one to begin. Fidgeting with his vestments Kendrew waited for his lover to approach. "Is she comin' yet?" he asked? Liliana: There would not be a long wait after the question was asked. For even as it was spoke Milly and Tilly, both still prattling or fixing something they deemed not perfect, were escorting Liliana to where Kendrew awaited her. Waited to marry her. A tremulous smile was on her face and her hands gripped the quickly ribboned together wild flowers, acting as bouquet, tighter in her grasp. As her husband-to-be came into view her chocolate eyes would brighten then lower as a blush stained cheeks. Kendrew: "Ye did nay think, friar, she changed her mind?" He spoke with the man of God as one man to another, "I am older than she be by many a year..." Milly and Tilly fussed, he fumbled over himself until he was vexed at mild oddity that became major flaws. Just as he began to paint the worst scenario, keen ears heard the sound of hushed feet over the autumn earth. He looked up, gasping softly at the sight before him. "Beautiful..." Liliana: Moving closer to Kendrew, taking place at his side, lips formed words,"I apologize for keeping you waiting." A brief glance was given to Milly and Tilly, hoping he'd understand without her needing to say it, and then she looked back to him. Strange now how she felt...shy. Nervous. Blushing again, eyes lowering to the floor, she'd wait for some word of what to do next. The poor flowers were going to be crushed in shaking hands soon! Kendrew: Flowers were twirled in hand by an anxious woman but the man could see nothing more than the woman that held them. A light surrounded Liliana; virtue of feminine holy, beauty unparalleled to anything..at least for him..that ever was. All that would be considered beautiful after this moment would be compared to how she looked to him. "Oh..nay." He stammered, blushing as his tongue was tied, but what would could express what he felt? He all but touched her face..leaning in to smell her hair, to see it, to memorize each detail. Liliana: Near touch of face-to-face as he leaned in, the warmth of his body near hers, had eyes closing. Blissful sigh would pass lips as the butterflies that had wreaked such havoc began to slow the beat of wings. Finally the nerves eased, hands stopped twisting the flowers harshly, and breathing relaxed. "Is all in readiness, Kendrew?" The words were whispered, an anxiousness in their tones, as she glanced from him to the man waiting to marry them. Kendrew: "N' ye are truly for me..." he whispered, leaving alone her hair lest he ruin what took so long for the women to make. He was in disbelief. Birds beat hard in his stomach, their wings discontent even as those in her quieted. "Aye" Bravado existed not. He turned toward the friar who was to marry them. But what place? They followed in the man's footsteps to where commune with God would be only for them. In the heart of the woods where elements converged, they would be asked to descend to their knees. Liliana: "Only for you...as you are only for me..." Words whispered in response to his, spoken for only their ears to hear. Never had Liliana expected to find such love. Yet, here she stood, soon to become the wife of an amazing man. Following the Friar and Kendrew, bright eyes taking in the woods around them. This was to be where she would marry. Surrounded by nature with God looking down upon them. How easily she now believed. Lowering to the ground, uncaring of stains the gown may suffer at this moment, Liliana waited with bated breath. [/center][/font]
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Post by Sir Kendrew Campbell on Nov 6, 2008 14:22:08 GMT -6
- The Rebellion in the South, Part I -
Kendrew: His progress through Scotland went like this; a trail of memories was the first path. Bloodshed was the second. Theivery the third, to the last which made him a vagabond when he should have been a native son marching proud under the colors of his king. They were enemies now. He had gone to places where they did battle to keep from being a bounty to be collected, and in others where they were given water, food, and praise. The clothes he wore were not his own - nor the boots - nor anything upon him expect the weapons he took from Windmill Hill. He couldn't leave them behind, the tools that did his service to his Gryphon Lord. "Sir, we're comin' upon the Dumfrieshire now. The village shouldn't be too far out. Nothing from the scouts yet.." The word of the man at his right was little for he had little news to say that wasn't already known to him: The English hadn't reached here yet but they were coming. Signals had not yet advanced but they were arriving. He smelled the acrid scent of fire before the first kindling twig was lit because he knew it from the holes in thatched roofs. No man knew it, but they rode beside the same field that he had hid with his siblings in, and made sport with local women many years agone. They tread upon his life, but such was Kendrew in that he said nothing. It wasn't to be thought of now. Sweat coated his skin in a thin sheen, making hte homespun shirt cling to him. The shield plastered further moisture down. "I want the wagons ready," he muttered low. "I want ye tae get as many people out afore anythin' should come. Ride West, Ride North, but do go further South....the English border is not far from here."
Rosalind: The Lady Inveryne had arrived safely in the West, giving all the displaced clansmen a sense of hope that land and honor might yet be restored. The Lamont men had everything to lose by fighting another man's war, but this -- as Robert Munn was reminded -- was not just any man. He, like Fearghus Lamont, understood a victory for these Skye-led rebels would be a much-needed chance for Clan Lamont. There was no room for gain under Bruce, who had already turned the other cheek to Campbell aggression. Robert Munn did not ask Fearghus where the money, men, or horses came from. Nor did he refuse his leader's command to ride south. What they would meet was a mystery to Munn, but he had some suspicion, knowing Fearghus Lamont to be a canty man, that it would be well met. Munn had never ridden so far south in his life, but the terrain was familiar to his scouts, who were from the area. Though the number of men with him were few, they picked their way slowly across the hills and fields, waiting as any decent tactician would. They could not afford to back a losing force, and would bide their time.
Lord Kensington: There was a small hill that overshadowed the sleepy Hamlet of Dumfrieshire.. upon that hill the combined armies of the Bruce and Lord Wesley Kinsington.. 3rd cousin to The King of England and Patriot of the Mother Country in all her glory.. had set up his encampment.. Obvisouly outnumbered the stubborn yet.. stupid Scot's continued their little rebellion.. He sat at his breakfast table fine English linens, silverware and chargers laden with offerings to his generals befor the start of the battle while they discussed strategy.. Lord Wesley.. However seemed bored as the Generals Filtered out.. commonly he was known and Kensington the Killer.. a very malicious and hated man known for his undeterred violence agasint all who were unfortunate enough to disagree with his outlook on all things ... thus the Scott's belowl.. would meet the cold merciless sword of Lord Kensington this Day " Burn them out.. kill them all.. man woman, child, beast.. salt the fields.. leave nothing.. not even a bug upon the dirt alive... Quarter and Pike the Priest and Elders.. for giving the idoits such bad advice as to... rebell against England. " he swept his hand over the hand drawn map indicating the small shire below.. "Make and example of this... place" he sneered.. Scotland was the arsehole of Europe.. and it needed wiping...!
Bradley Hurst: Loyalty. It was a word not many kinew. Not many understood,. Loyalty drove the man just as it drove the rest of Kendrew men to follow him across the countryside. Leaving behind them, pieces of themselves, articals of clothing for new ones in gratitude. Bradley Hurst was among them for his loyalty had been to Kendrew for a long time. He'd follow the man blindly into a raging fire and it was all because of loyalty. This was no raging fire but it was close to it as it was going to get. Any day could be his last and he considered it a well lived life. Where he lead, Brad would follow, what he asked of him would be done, by the sweat on his brow and the blood in his veins. That, was loyalty.
Kendrew: Loyalty. It is what drove these men, vagabonds, highbornes, to do what was needed to be done of them. To a cause, to a clan, to a country it was of no matter. To what end Kendrew came South had little to do with any of these and asked his blatant reason? "Mah mother. Mah sister. The children." These were the three things he said when asked why. By now they had vindicated some burghs and give honorable ends to others. First came his family, and last if the heat of battle burned him enough he would think of sending the dogs of England back to the feet of their lineage to beg for table scraps. England. So grand, so powerful! The King of a lineage where a man's father favored his stable of male lover's more than his wife, and the wife overthrew her husband, or so went the tale of the Plantagnets line in the last many years. He looked to Bradley Hurst, leaning against the spear he had carried. As he drew his pole arm from it, he began to inquire of the pikemen. "They be the muster o' the might now," he said to his comerade, "The raids 'ave nay been as plentiful as we'd like, but the purpose is to move the people out, n' what quarry we take comes second to that all." Those men that lived and those that found them on the road seemed to love him, this humble farmer's son of Dumfrieshire. He still understood little as to why .
Munn: Munn's loyalty only went so far as to gather the tatters of his clan together and survive. Or so he thought. When he saw the grim determination in Fearghus's eyes, he could not name what instilled such terror in him that he felt it to the marrow of his bones, but it served a reminder. Fearghus had lost his soul along the way. Munn, however, still answered to God for his actions. He leaned forward in his saddle as his next round of scouts returned, ready to listen to their reports. When he heard the rebels had finally closed in, he gave it consideration. Were the rebels, in addition to Lamont's foot and mounted clansmen, enough to defeat an English force? His horse sidled, sensing his rider's restlessness. It was with little difficulty that he forced the beast to stillness, but the gesture was enough to set his men astir with the same questions. "Bring ye back something about the English," he commanded, "and we'll see." It would be a long day for his men, if the plan of attack was not to attack at all, but to wait.
Lord Kensington: The battle lines were drawn across the Map.. the orders given as some 250 Men descended on the Small Shire intent on it's destruction. Lord Kensington would not be left out of the Melee.. though he would sit atop the hillside and watch.. until things were in complete control before he ventured forth on his White Horse.. in full English Regalia.. red coat. golden braids.. black tuffted hat with a scarlet plume.. my what a dashing figure he cut.. the long deadly sword sheathed at his side.. the stallion pranced back and forth.. as the mongrels the Bruce supplied were sent in first.. no use spilling English Blood when Scot would fight against Scot.. his distaste for the rabble of this Isle.. apperant in his need to finish off the rebellion and return home to his beloved England. A line of Archers stood ready if needed as the Bruces Scotts took off on foot toward their kinsmens homes.. to Kill them.. These men the Bruce had sent.. were not trained soilders.. but more rabble, farmers and the like.. some even carried pitchforks.. but they all had something in common.. they were willing to kill their countrymen.. for what.. the Idea.. of wealth and lands.. scraps at the Table of an English King.
Bradley "All for the greater good. A better lives for those we save. A swift kick in the arse for the others."Came Bradley reply to the man he honored. The wuiver on his shoulder was shifted around, his shoulder rolled to pull out the ache while the bow was gripped and loosened within his hand. How long had they moved? How much more could they take? "Your men are with you Kendrew. Whatever the outcome." His voice was low, suprisingly calm since the air was thick with threat. Sure, he longed for home. For the familiarity of Skye, he knew his purpose was to serve the people, and the man standing beside him. Point blank, end of discussion.
Kendrew: "Tell the men tae pray, make their confessions. There is no will of God in what we do." For the sake of a matter like this it made better sense to be close to an aetheist. King, coutry. What did it mean? He had men who would follow him to kill other men born on the same soil. It was a year awash in the murder of kinsmen. Aye, murder. Call it no less than the sin it was - he murdered, lied, cheated, and stole to come this far. Bradley was the closest thing to sword brother and friend he had in this. They had slit throats in the dead of night for the sake of this day. This one day, if not this last one. He told them what he came for and still they came. "The front will be the village." The thought sickened him. Oh, how it churned his stomach! In the distace he saw a man of Lamont. What a rag-tag assortment would go against the fine might of great England! So he would walk, and if Bradley would come then it would be two that did. He wanted to see the hillsides before they were burned..listen to the wind as the sun rose. "See them there, look. Ye must tell the men this Bradley. They can show no mercy." Against armed peasens. They had little choice, and the more he thought on it, the more his rage grew. The lines were being put together...the charge would be soon .
Munn: Though Munn's face was inscrutable, his thoughts were surprisingly with the men beyond the next rise. "Convince us, damn you," he muttered. Quarter-stepping, he rounded his own contingent, inspecting the men and boys. Some were old enough to have seen battle before. Some had fought four years ago at Inveryne. Some, like him, were likely too old to be considered a threat. But if there was one thing the English had learned, it was Scottish intractability. He muttered a word or two here and there with men he respected. He traded jokes with the youngsters, whom would likely prove themselves today. He quelled anxieties and built up confidence without grand words, for it anyone needed inspiration, it was the phoenix-like men of Clan Lamont. Finally, when the man returned from observing the English, Munn took a deep breath. Two hundred fifty, mostly clansmen. Against an unsuspecting village, no less. It was not a fair fight, and it was a village like many they had passed through on their way south. He sympathized, and that was an unforgiveable on his part. But he could not act yet, not when he was unsure of his potential allies' strength. Or lack thereof.
Kensington: Beside Kensington on the Rise would be the traitors.. or in England and the Bruces opinion.. the Rightouse of the Scottish Lords.. Morney, Locklen, Stokely, Argylle himself... watched as their men led the attack on their own.. slowly the line of Scottish begin to build up speed, charging in upon foot.. pitchfork, sycth, sword, pike.. lance.. even a few tossing weights slung over head .. twirled in violent display.. enough to send the women and children of the small hamlett fleeing into the countryside.. as the churchbell begin to toll a warning... it was like an ocean wave.. rolling over the shore of Dumfrieshire.. a wave of destruction.
Bradley: Whatever Kendrew ordered, it would be done. The word was spread, pray, confess. Do what they must for this was it. With some of the men he lead a small prayer. Kendrew may not of thought this was not like the will of God, but if it wasn't then what was? The petty squabble of men? No. Bradley Hurst had once been close to binding himself to the church, becoming a priest. God had seen it fit he do otherwise and how long had it been now that he had fought beside Kendrew? Never to long but long enough to forget the life that all most was. Turning away from the end of the prayer, he moved in time with the knight, side by side. No mercy? When had they shown mercy lately? Lips pulled into a deep frown. "No Mercy...yes no mercy indeed.."There was a wave of his hand, the signal, no mercy. As ordered.
Kendrew: It happened sooner than expected! As formations were solidified the tide broke on the side of the English, seding down the wave pulled by the favored British moon down towards Dumfries. It would later be said: Nay one'll soon forget the skye a'gone with black rage as the end o' all things seemed to come down on us at once..." He did not kneel himself, but said his prayers on foot as he took his place not toward the back of them..but at the front of the village. He had never been a man towards the rear of the charge. He had grow up moving forward, and even now when posistion gave him a mounted seat he took it not. Out of the man arms of war - wooden, sharpened points the length of two and a half grown men each reachig out toward the charge, at least one met the rising Eastern orb with a hint of steel glow on it. A poleaxe, a spear tip. The "tooth" that had been part of Scotland's great jaw. "LAY ON" No rousing words, no speeches. Duty spoke for them. Action was the tone. He knelt as low as he could in stance to withstand the impact of the first bodies meeting the wood wall, being impaled, those that slipped through would see the line moving to the wave of the sea. The righting had begun. Bells tolled the hour of judgement. What were Scotland's true sons made of, and how ferocious were these fabled lords who served under the Griffin?
Munn: The mathematics of war were simple. One war-trained horse and rider could easily outmatch two men on foot. Munn had easily gathered fifty riders, not all Lamont, but enough from similarly dispossessed clans to matter. Munn commanded his men to round the village, attacking in a convergent point. They were ordered to focus on the footmen, those most vulnerable to the swords, clubs, and maces of the mounted Lamonts. Munn himself raised his sword as he placed his contingent of men in motion, and felt the familiar tightening in his stomach as his pulse began to race in anticipation of battle. He hoped his men were at peace with God, their wives, and respective families, for they were to join the fray. There was no time to consider the twisted loyalties that brought Lamont to fight today. When Munn raised his voice to issue his order to commence, he did so with a clear conscience. Clan Lamont was present and willing.
Lord Kensington: It would be like a block of granite crashing down upon the Shire.. men who indiscrimatnatly killed maimed and torched everything in their path.. Women Screamed running their hands full of children who cried and froze as the mongrel packs of Bruce Scots, the attack wave upon the rebels was likened to a tidel wave.. the first impaled their bodies scaffolding for those behind .. commiting the sharpened poles to nothing more than bridgework as they scrambled in bloodlust toward the rebel.. hooks , hands swords.. hammers.. axes.. all drew blood in a frenzied cacaphony of screams, roars and sounds of war.. as the Bruces Scots invaded the town.. fires begin to rage in building set aflame, acid billows of smoke adding to the overall confusion.. a many of friend and ally would strike each other down in the heat of battle.. for there were not uniforms to tell them apart.. they were all Scottish. Meanwhile Upon the Rise Kinsington and the Lords of Scottland.. watched on in.. sastifaction.. the Rebel lines broken and their troops bled into the town without tourniquet.. carnage left in their path.. though resistance was met.. a spyglass lifted and centered on one massive man who seemed to lead.. " That one... needs to be... captured" he of course was pointing to Kendrew.. " Archers... fire arrows..." and the drum sounded..
Hurst: There was no flinch. Not from Bradley and not the men behind him. Perhaps some of the new blood had but near coal black eyes were trained on the formation rushing them like a tidal wave. The bow was slung from his shoulder, an arrow notched. creeakk the wood groaned in protest as it was pulled back following a line of those who knew the practice of archery. TWANG TWANG TWANG, the sound resounded as the arrows flew into the sun and follied into the fray of men bombering them. Careful to wade the running villagers for the enemy. It took a trained eye but the screams were the same, enemy and the helpless. Screams of pain, screams of panic mingled with the tinge of battle as metals struck upon wood and other metal. The acid smoke of fire mingled with the bitter smell of blood.
Kendrew: "Stay a'ground!" The command was sharp to keep the men afoot, for if they fell they would be trampled. As soon as the morning sun reached early zenith the sky was beginning to grow blushed from the flames shootig up over the fields. While some fell backwards as was planned, his own angle became apparent: To push a quarter of the forces out towards the fields. If they burned, the English would come along to Hell. How strange it seemed, pikemen lowering weapons to stalk through barley, the remnants of wheat. But the peasents did not expect this, nor the trained men in their company. "HA!" He cried, driving the tip repeatedly through centers.He would impale a sternum, the side of a torso as arrows rained down to take him. Tossing the pike into the fields he drew off his back the shorter spear. Coming under a sword blow, he rolled. Pushing up, he watched the body slidedow and as the last breath's were had in his face he displayed what he'd ordered. No mercy. Did the English give him a name yet? He wasn't aware that by now the adventures of him and his men were worthwhile attention. Lost in fields, his destination was clear at least to him. For the house at the end of it (d)
Munn: Munn lingered slightly behind his men, not out of cowardice, but to better understand the rebels' tactics. It would do no good to rout the English one way, only for his ally to be poised to strike with no enemy at hand. Once he understood the plan of attack, and where the arrows were landing, Munn's men fell in with vigor, shouting as if war were some great sport. They took out years of pent-up aggression on the enemy, slaughtering indiscriminately any poor soul who happened to be on foot, and driving the enemy further toward Kendrew's eventual goal. *
Kensington: Kensington almost growled as he saw the efforts of the Rebel leader to divide the forces of the Bruces Scots.. while some continued into the shire.. the rest were now engaged in gorilla warfare in the fields.. that blazed with spotty fires.. and camaflouged the tricky bastards within the crops and smoke " KIll that bastard !" he ordered in a fit of rage drawing his sword and sending in the reserves... "leave no one alive" from the lines upon the hill calvery and infantry delauged the fields.. now burning.. in splotches of crimson and oynx... their goal to erridicate the vermin in the fields.
Hurst: When the fray got to close. The bow was used as a weapon, smacking into an enemy face that charged at him. Each one was just a blurr, a blank face. Another blackness to put down. When the bow finally gave way and broke into two, the longsword at his side was pulled. A savage yell left the mans throat as he was swept into, disappearing into enemy hands.*
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Post by Sir Kendrew Campbell on Nov 6, 2008 14:40:22 GMT -6
The Rebellion - Concluded
Kendrew: The fire had swept down into the hamlet like a wave of darkness. The clash of steel, the thrust of the pike forward chased out screaming women, crying children, and the unsuspecting men who answered the call to grab whatever weapons they could find. Some tried to find the formations of men in order to fight against them. But who did they fight against? The English paired with their own defenders by way of the Bruce giving his finest knights to subjucate the 'rabble' who detered from the completion of his aim. Clansmen who had nothing to gain by going against the king against those who stood with the peasents in order to find their names redeemed. Kendrew combed through the fields of grain along with many of his men, cutting down the enemy forces who got lost in the maze. On the North end - fire crept up the barley stalks to blanket thick smoke where the sky should have been. "Burn out the rats!" The command was clear. The rebellion army was to be treated no better than animals. He was pushing through the golden sea, eyes burning, weapon dripping blood on the top of his feet as he cut through the fields of his childhood to find a way for his men to come out. In the town the encounter raged on, a rabble of pitchforks and swords against one another. Each side had perhaps 200 at best. Neither odds insurmountable, but each side vicious (d)
Lucius: Lucius made sure that Valerius was packed rightfully, suited up for a battle, for Liam already had been called into service to protect the people of Dumfrieshire. Rumour of rebellion and outbreak spread like wild fire upon the winds of Skye. But...a battle..his first battle! Nervous and calm mixed together to create a strange concotion as the young squire quickly mounted the black Fresian stallion. His father had given to him a shirt of linked maile to go over gambeson and tunic. Brown gloves had been pulled on to protect his hands as the fine sword, master craftwork of his father, was sheathed at his side and belted. The long spear was picked up, upon the top was fastened the herald of his sir knight, Sir Liam. Finally, they set forth from Turas Lan, and as the dutiful squire, Lucius followed behind. In the wind of motion the banner had uncurled and waved proudly in the wind. It was enough to send his heart skipping a precious beat from pride to be serving his lord, and at the same time..fear. No more practises in the courtyard...this was real. Already the town of Dumfrieshire came into view, and what dark eyes took in was a sight that he had heard in stories...never witness. Chaos...pure and feral to the very core. Lucius swallowed hard and moved Valerius beside Sir Liam, and he gaze toward the man. Sir Liam turned to him, and with his free hand, he patted Lucius' armoured shoulder. 'Strength and honour, lad. Stay close, and be brave.' Such words sent a flood of warmth through chilled veins, and unable to speak, the young man nodded and swallowed hard, turning back to the burning village wrought with violence and chaos. This was it...what months of training had hopefully prepared him for. Liam lowered the visor, and spurring his horse on, he unsheathed his sword and gave such a fierce battle cry. Such ferocity was inspiring, and holding the banner high, heels dug into Valerius' flanks to gallop after his knight, filled with a new fire
Rosalind Avalle: Munn knew it disheartened his men to fight against perceived brothers, nearly as much as it heartened them to fight enemies. Yet it was very much a possibility Lamont men could be found on the other end of the sword, and Munn did not wish to contemplate what his reaction would be in the circumstance. If the misled Lamonts believed Bruce would support their clan now, after so many years of leaving them victim to the caprices of their Campbell neighbors, they were fools. Tragic fools, but fools nonetheless. No, the only path for victory for Clan Lamont was here, today, at the side of the men of Skye. Munn could not expect the same logic of his men, particularly when face to face with kin. Though they were very far south, it was a possibility. He surveyed the battle before him one last time before he himself committed. Though most of his men were engaged, he lingered behind, the smoke stinging his eyes as he determined the best course of action. At the moment, it appeared to Munn that the men of Skye might have found themselves mired in the barley with no discernable way out. A headlong attack into the oncoming battle was suicide for him and for what was left of his nearly extinguished clan, so he chose a less direct route, cutting into the flank of the battle toward the men of Skye. Over the noise of metal on metal, the call of Clan Lamont rose into the air, clear and crisp on the tongues of men who, for the first time in over a decade, had cause to take pride in announcing their clan affiliation. *
Kendrew The plan had been to run into the wheat and with that, cut down the enemy in a place that was unfamiliar to them. Fire became the determiner instead of a man's precision; the fire crisped to black the flesh of the men of Skye, the smoke filled their lungs as the body was starved for want of air. "This way!" He pointed his spear tip toward clarity, toward life over the death. "Go as low as ye can, that is where the air is!" Coming on to his belly, he pulled his arms one over the other, crept up his legs to crawl as he touched along the skin of two other men. Pulling aside the stalks he came to the other end with his brothers-in-arms. "Lamont Sir! The Clan Lamont, dae ye see thecolours?1" The acknowledgement of what tartan came to offer themselves to a side meant little, or did, until it flew on the side of their rag-tag rebels, the men of Skye, the vagrant warrior-heroes. On the hills the Scottish Lords watched in approval with their English cohorts the crippling of the south. "The plan stays the same," he barked, "Get as many out as have nay gotten out yet, cut down the lines. We're slowin' them .Gods we will not win this battle taeday. But they will know who we are.." The command nearly fell away as he saw the home of his youth in the backdrop of the fire. Heard the cries of a woman; sharp, poignant. It harrowed him down to his soul: His worst fear was before him and chief reason: "Lara n' Shannon!" His sister and sister-in-law and as he went forward the command was issued again. "Kill them! Kill tha' rogue Campbell!" (d)
Lucius Fear of the uncertain gripped his heart, clawing at it mercilessly as the Fresian charged on down the plains. Fight for honour...fight for freedom...fight to live. Never before had he had reason to fight, but this was the road to knighthood...to be brave in combat...despite the fact that he could very well die and never return home again. Lucius tried hard to desperately push aside that fear of humanity and steeled himself. His eyes turned to his knight, and for a moment, he was in awe at the man's seemingly valour..uncaring for his own personal health to save those he could and fight for reasons that every knight should. One day...perhaps he would be like Liam. It did not take long for the two men upon the back of horses to reach the burning village, and Liam brought his sword down, striking a man chasing a woman who managed to clear the burning town in the back. How was he supposed to fight and hold the banner for his lord!? Keep calm and think, had been the logic that his brain tried to persuade his racing mind. His heart was thumping rapidly as he watched the blood coat Liam's sword and the man fall to the ground...dead. Dead. Hugging the sides of his horse with his thighs and legs, hands released the reins and the long speak with the banner was grasped in both hands, and with the end, he struck a man in the back of the head as he passed by, knocking him to the ground...but dead or not was unclear. It did not take long for those flooding the streets of the town to stop and turn to the two horsemen coming in. Pikes and swords and aggression turned to them, now, and as a man darted before Valerius, spooked, the horse came to a screeching hault and reared. Dropping the banner, Lucius fell off and hit the ground rather hard, enough to make him wince as the rings dug into cloth and flesh. Dark eyes opened and looked up : to see an axe coming straight toward his head!
Munn Campbell, did the man say? Each and every ear of the men of Clan Lamont perked at that. If they were worried about fighting a brother, that worry evaporated instantly in the hot air. A brother who fought for Campbell was no brother worthy of acknowledgement. Munn, who was perhaps a bit more sober than his men, could have kissed Kendrew full on the lips. The men they met and cut down met Lamont with unforunate cries of "For the Bruce!", which in many cases, was the only characteristic distinguishing Scot from Scot. But that was the last instant of rational thought he had for the next handful of minutes. Two mounted men broke through Lamont's ranks. One died instantly as a result of a sword blow from Munn's right. The other brought his sword down to meet Munn's shield. Unfortunately, the blow carried enough strength in it to nearly topple the battle-harded Lamont from his saddle. He hung on, draping sideways, until by sheer force of will he swung himself upright, only to dodge the recovering blow with a feeble swipe of his shield. He was lucky he had not taken up the cross as some of his generation had, for a man of holy work ought not shout the unholy obscenities that seemed to come so easily to Munn. He chased down his attacker before he could raise his arm for the third blow, and the man fell to the ground absent his head. Satisfied for the moment, Munn rounded his horse and plunged onward. They would hold the line of English long enough to give the men of Skye a decent chance of survival, but they could hold it no longer. His men were beginning to falter. "The flag, boy, the flag!" he shouted, thunking one of the banner men lightly on the back of the head as he rode past. Lamont's banner shot upward again. *
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Post by Sir Kendrew Campbell on Nov 6, 2008 16:01:29 GMT -6
"He ran through burning fields and remembered the fire that burned in his heart instead. By the time the battle was waged and he was consumed in the mists; bloody, wounded. Despair. He remembered a time of joy."
-- The Wedding...Concluded --
[b]Kendrew[/b]Friar - "Tae ye knees, lad. As you make your vow." The old man was kind to the stunned man who saw his lady love. A queen. An Empress, of who's land she ruled with the sheer light illuminating her face. Greater than the shine of any moon, sun, or stars, her hands moved this light towards the heart of her people. Fealty was sworn yet she lowered on her knee, humbled before God. If only he could express such poetry...but instead he found himself lowered, staring at her in enraptured wonder as he offered her his hand (d)
Liliana Lost in the moment, chocolate eyes locked lovingly on Kendrew's, Liliana watched him lower to the ground. Turning her head, looking ip at the Friar, she waited. Here, with only them, it was like a world of their own. As if nobody else existed. Nature surrounded them and God watched them from above. Never had she ever thought she'd be getting married. (d)
Kendrew"Please, Friar, say ye peace. Let no more another hour come this woman is not my wife." Her small, frail hand seemed like it would vanish in his warrior's hold. Cupping it, he brought it up to his lips to kiss it before turning his eyes up to the man who would speak to the Father of heaven. So it began in humble earnest, "We gather on this day, in the sight of God, to join this man and this woman..in holy union.." A prayer was led that the moment was sanctified, the place of union was sanctified. The son of farmers, a man of Campbell, lowered his eyes as he felt emotion stir within him (d)
LilianaIn Kendrew's hand her own trembled. Not from fear, but nerves. Though they had fled earlier it seemed they had returned in full force. She would marry him though. No questions. He had her heart and no other would she ever feel this way about. Swallowing, chocolate eyes lowering to look at the ground, Liliana felt the pounding of her heart increase with every second. (d)
KendrewThe priest spoke his prayer and he muttered 'amen' but only as if she were his idol, his saint. Seeing this, the Friar grinned as he spoke to them on the meanings of marriage. He spoke of the holy ordinance as put forward by God.."God saw that man was alone..and it was not good for him to be so...so a women was fashioned from man's rib. So then, in marriage you take back a part of yourself to cherish, to love and care for...as she will honor and uplift you.." He nodded, swallowing as he was asked if he would repeat vows to her. The words were presented to him, and she took her hands and looked into her eyes.."I, Kendrew Campbell, take ye....Liliana..Marishka...as my wife. Tae have and tae hold, and forsaking all others..keep ye all the days o' m'life.." (d)
LilianaThe word 'amen' was like a whisper of the wind as it passed from Liliana's lips. Calming breaths were taken, nerves soothed to a bare flutter, as she surreptitiously glanced around. It was like a dream. To her it was as if this was not real. None of it. So hard to believe. Yet, Kendrew taking her hands, causing eyes to lift to his own, told her it was. Smiling softly, tears glistening in chocolate eyes, she listened to his words. (d)
Kendrew"In sickness, in health, fer richer n' poorer. All the days o' m'life. Ye are m'wife....n' I am yours..": The Friar led him and he repeated. The Friar spoke more, and he nearly forgot that it exsisted as he professed his love in the bonds men had spoke to woman many times (d)
LilianaTears that had lingered now slid down her cheeks, leaving damp trails behind. Wetting her lips with the tip of her tongue, his words squeezing her heart, her hands would squeeze his tighter. When Kendrew finished speaking, Liliana was quiet. The emotions carrying through her were powerful and welcomed by her. (d)
Kendrew"I love you.." He whispered, and turned to the Friar as he began to ask Liliana to recite her vows, all that Kendrew had said. At this point she needn't say anything...only to be (d)
LilianaFinding the ability to speak was not easy. Her voice when it came out was barely above a whisper, the emotions within making it hard to be any louder,"I, Liliana Marishka, take you, Kendrew Campbell...as my husband..." Pausing, drawing breath and fighting tears, she continued,"To have and to hold, and forsaking all others...keep you all the days of my life. In sickness, in health, for richer and poorer. All the days of...our life..." She couldn't resist the word change, smile widening,"You are my husband I am yours..." (d)
Kendrew"Ever mine," he touched her face, "Ever thine...ever ours." the Friar asked if the party had rings, and from his pockets he drew out a set that he had fashioned for his sweet beloved.."For her..I dae.."
LilianaUnable to speak at the words he added, the touch of his hand upon her cheek making eyelids close briefly, she whispered,"I love you." When the Friar asked of rings, Liliana briefly thought of what she had. Removing it from the hidden pocket in the dress, she whispered,"For him, aye." The ring had been made of simple silver with clean knotwork, simple and masculine. It had been meant as a simple gift for Kendrew, obtained her in Aberdeen, but now...it would be a symbol of their union. (d)
KendrewHow strange that where she obtained a ring for him, he obtained her own. He had meant for them to be sealed, to be given on their home soil. "For me?" He said in question as he watched the beautiful symbol manifest in her hand. A symbol he would wear; he never thought in his later years he would wear them. So in shock he was that the friar chuckled, clearing his throat to prepare him for the ring exchange. "With this ring, I wed thee.." He said confident, sliding the rings upon her left ring's finger (d)
LilianaNoting the stunned expression, Liliana felt her smile widen even more. She thought that if it got any bigger her face would break. Never had she been this happy. "For you..." Hearing the Friar, she fell silent, as Kendrew began to speak and slide the ring upon her finger. Staring at the ring upon her finger, she swallowed and looked to the Friar as if to say my turn? and waited for a nod or such. (d)
Kendrew Her turn was granted with a nod of his covered head. He smiled beyond his covering as Kendrew let it be seen obvious as in her small hand his own was heading. (d)
Liliana Turning back to Kendrew, chocolate eyes lovingly sweeping over his face, she took his hand. Locking her gaze upon his, poising the ring at the tip of his finger, she stated firmly,"With this ring, I wed thee..." And then slid the ring onto his finger gently. (d)
Kendrew"Wed me.." He mouthed the words as he took up their banded hands. Kissing the ring he put forward, silver gleamed in the forest light. "We are wed.." The Friar did not have to pronounce them man and wife because Kendrew already cupped her face into his hands. "Liliana Campbell ye are now.." (d)
Liliana In that moment, when Kendrew spoke her new name, the Friar was forgotten. All she saw, all she heard, was him. Fresh tears slid down her cheeks and she murmured,"We are wed..." There was a stunned quality to her words. Yet it was clear that there was no regret. Only love. Only happiness. Blushing slightly, whispered words passed her lips,"Are you going to kiss me now?" (d)
Kendrew "Aye lass, I'll kiss ye. I'll drink ye in." Just as the Friar gave him leave to salute his bride, the kiss was pulled forward. Mouth to mouth, soon the gate was open for tongue to slide through to twist against her own. Wine and honey, raisins and sugar. His breathing intensified to the point where breath was held. (d)
Liliana The poor Friar, Liliana had now completely forgotten the man's presence. Only Kendrew was noticed. Letting his lip take possession of hers, she responded eagerly to his kiss. Drank him in as he drank her in. Every stroke of tongue against tongue made her heart pound harder, as if to a beat of it's own, one that flowed with the words I am his wife. I am his wife. And indeed, she was now. (d)
Kendrew"Go now in peace and be happy all the days of your life." The friar made the sign of the cross over them and slipped away from the hollow in the woods. Open arms encased his bride, drawing her close to him as the kiss only broke for his want, the sheer need to breathe. "Liliana. Liliana Campbell.." He smiled (d) [/font][/color]
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Post by Sir Kendrew Campbell on Nov 7, 2008 16:06:45 GMT -6
-- The Homecoming, The Healing, and the West -
Liliana: "Lady Campbell, you should rest." That was not the first time those words had been spoken to her. Liliana had been at Kendrew's side throughout the night. Whenever he would stir or wake ranting with fever, she was there. There to soothe him with gentle whispers and the stroke of hand upon his head. To run a damp cloth over his lips when water was needed. Once in awhile she had dozed, only for minutes here and there, only to be brought awake by the barest movement. Liliana wasn't going anywhere. She had been away from her husband long enough. [d]
Beathag: Beathag was in a place where the woes of the world could not tear down the joy she felt; the threat of war, omnious tidings, and proof of the continued Scottish betrayal did little to dampen the spirit of the woman of Aberdeenshire. Tribulation was overcome to triumph. If anything, she would see to it that all crossed the miraculous bridge to the promised land with her, instead of going against the wind to be lost in the tide. It was an almost unfamiliar woman that disembarked from the inside of a carriage, exuding a sense of firm purpose and warmth unlike anything that could have been. "Ah've heard the messenger's words. Quickly! Where be mah healers n' physicians, have them follow. See those tha' tend the Lord are given relief, food n' rest, mah personal chosen will contiue their work.." The brogue was distant, but slowly came closer to the room where the Campbells kept themselves. There was a crack of the door, a slight knock, and for all that traveled at her side, she was the only one in the threshold. (d)
Liliana: Stroking his cheek, whispering soothing words of nonsense, Liliana barely lifted her head when the knock sounded. Generally those who came to check on Kendrew knocked and then came in anyways. She would not deny them entrance. They would make him better. When the sound of footsteps that generally followed the knock did not come, head lifted to see who was there. Chocolate eyes, circles darkening the skin underneath, locked on the person there. Bess. All the composure that had been held throughout the night, vanished. "Oh Bess..he's...he..." Words could not be found as her gaze moved to the man lying in the bed. [d]
Beathag: "He's gaein' tae be tended n' awaken within the day, tha' is wot...come..come 'ere." She furrowed her brows at the state of the worried wife; restlesness, nights now culminated to the point of watching her newly beloved husband grow sick, and nearly die. "Twill no good to have ye follow him for sickness o' the heart. Ah have brought mah finest with me n' he shall be made equally sae." She came in, leaving a hand on the wall near the bed as she put he other on Liliana's shoulder (d)
Liliana: If one had doubted that Liliana viewed Bess as a friend, not just her Duchess, it would vanish in the moment that followed. By the time Bess finished speaking, the poor woman was on her feet and embracing her in moments. "I...can't leave his side. What if I do and he..." Drawing a deep breath, unable to even speak the word, her chocolate eyes sought Bess's gaze. Liliana had sought for hours blaming herself for this. That inner voice whispering that she was a curse to those she loved. First, her own Mother. Then her Papa and Beth. Then Adira. And now...her own husband...[d]
Beathag The Aberdeen household was built on more than the bonds of class. Those who came beyond the gates became a sort of family, and Liliana became dear to her heart the moment when, in her rage, she tried to endear herself in the heart of the storm. The arms of a great oak wrapped around the frail maiden. Fingers combed through her hair as she coaxed her away with platitudes of truth, promises of care, "We shall beh but a room awy, the door open iffn ye wish. Let us wash ye face, ye hair. Give ye food n' clothes sae ye can be at ye strongest tae make your husband strong. Kendrew is a strong man, a good man..Liliana. He will endure, but iffn he senses the frailty o' his wife, he will awaken, fight the healers, n' wot good will tha' dae hmm?" Wisdom at times could be the most basic sort of common sense. "Sae ye can be strong for him, let me be strong for ye, make ye strong. Come lass. Ah've already 'ad a room prepared where we can tend ye n' twill be right beside his own. Ye 'll be no where ye can nay here him." (d)
Liliana: Simple words, honest words. That was what had Liliana's head nodding in agreement even as her eyes briefly moved to Kendrew's face. Those thoughts had not went through her mind. Yet, she could not risk Kendrew fighting the healers. Her husband had to get better, had to live. "The door open then." Nodding, realizing that she likely looked a horrid fright, Liliana gave a weak smile,"I suppose I should want to look my best for him when he awakens. That man is a going to get a good talking to..." [d]
Beathag: "As is a wife's right, mah dear. Dun be tae hard on him though. Since the world was new a man's gone off tae the war n' we've sat by the hearth n' find somethin' tae love 'em for or give hellfire for. Wot e'er reasons he had..they must 'ave been compellin' n' strong. Some part o' Dumfries is left standin, though the crops are scourged in the harvest is impossible now. Ye will have many a duty tae see tae as he recovers. " As they spoke she led her on, with her eyes instructing that door should never close. In the adjoining room was basin of warmed water, soap, towels, food, and a change of clothes. "Ah've set some tae the task o' scourin' every ship tha' has come in and the lands besides fer any sign o' his mother, sisters, n' their children." (d)
Liliana: Kendrew's family. In all the hours they had not even crossed her mind. Horrified by that realization, Liliana stared at Bess. "I didn't even think. I've been so lost to my worry..." Shaking her head, hand shoved through disheveled ebony hair, Liliana sighed. "There is no sign yet?" They had to be found. She did not want to give horrible news to Kendrew. Attention briefly turned to the soap and water, cloth used to scrub face before removing the gown. Therewas no blushing, no shyness, at this moment as thoughts were on her husband and the duties to be handled as his wife. Old clothing was placed with new, after a quick scrub down with the soapy water. [d]
Beathag "Not yet, m'dear. We shall see they beh found. Ship with them is rumored tae have docked..they can nay be far." No modesty, no shyness, for both were women talking of womens business. Beathag took up the brush after the hair was washed, running it through the Lady Campbell's hair.. How many times had her women done such for her, not out of duty, but out of love? No hands were too noble to give love to another. "The messenger, tae, told me everythin' Kendrew has wished me tae 'ere. It is known tae me tha' the families along the West Coast o' Scotland shall beh at the forefront o' this matter, our sword n' shield. They know Adam will nay sacrifice another man nor resource now, their places are 'ere, with their families. They've done n' we've done all tha' we can for now. The rest is in the hands o'spirits fer the future o' Skye seems different than tha' o' Scotland..though we love it sae...we give wot we can n' tha' shall simply be tha'." Nimble fingers took the hair to twist portions of it into a fine braid to pin at the back of her head while the rest could hang free. (d)
Liliana: What Liliana had done for Bess, now Bess did for her. Soothed by the actions of hair being brushed while listening to Bess talk, she allowed herself to relax. "What am I to be doing now, Bess?" Such an innocent question, but one she needed answered. Liliana was new to the role of wife. Since leaving Aberdeen there had been a loss of herself in worrying over her husband. Yet, now he had returned home. Though recovering from injuries, and he would recover or she'd beat him, it was time to stop being weak. To be strong. To handle matters of duty and importance. She wanted to show Kendrew that he had chosen well in marrying her. The flicker of a smile curved lips as Bess braided her hair,memories of Adira doing such flitting through her mind,"Ah, I forgot what it was like to have someone else do that." [d]
Beathag: "M'mother braided mah hair, long after Ah'd wed n' m'sisters as well, n' we'd dae it for each others 'pon the sacred days o' the year, n' at mah little sister's wedding Ah arranged her hair. We are a family, Liliana. Nay by blood but circumstance o' sorts." The education of the elder came now to the younger as she was told what would be best, "Rest yourself, when they are found ye will help greet them, n' they will be settled in the castle. Just as ye n' Kendrew have a place there until ye wish tae make a home for yeself. N' ye will come tae know ye new kin. N' they will love ye for ye resourcefulness, ye kindness, ye wit n' charm. They'll love ye for keepin' a stubborn man n' one stubborn piece, for in all o' this nothin' is more special tae a mother than 'er children, nay matter the age, n' a sister tae a brother.Ye will begin tae build the life ye deserve, like Jelenah, for both o' ye can dae better than in mah shadow. Such light have ye." She added one of her ribbons to her hair, a soft one of emerald green to tie the braids in place. "Listen..ye breath lighter n' sae does your husband.." (d)
Liliana We are a family, Liliana. Those words had never met more to her. For one who had been without a family since childhood, they meant the world. And now, besides Bess, Kendrew, and the others, who had become part of this family in Skye, there would be added Kendrew's family. Listening to Bess's words, a mental nod given to each, as she couldn't move her head at the moment. "Bess, I..." When she finished braiding her hair, Liliana turned to look at her friend softly,"I should have said it many times before, but, I do not know what I would have done without you. You have taught me much and have become very dear to me as well. A woman who has strength and wisdom beyond measure." Liliana did not know how she did it. The Duchess had been through much of late, yet here she was offering comfort and looking to the world as if no weight was upon her shoulders. [d]
Beathag: "Och, ye needn't priase me sae. Ah've learned much from ye as well. TIs been a journey tae remember wot it is tae laugh, Liliana, tae beh soft fer the softness in the world n' give people somethin' other than the part o' me forged by steel. Without the likes o' ye about some o' m'life would be vera bleak." She embraced her once more and sighed, rubbing her back and looking her over, "There now, tha' is how a lady in her own right should look. Fresh n' lovely for her husband n' good news.." She brought their foreheads together and said. "Ah'm with child." (d)
Liliana: To have such an effect on another was something to have pride in. Liliana smiled softly, nodding,"It seems that we have helped each other then. I am lucky to have found my way to Skye. Soggy as it was." Hugging Bess, letting the embrace linger, she laughed,"Now Kendrew won't be worrying when he comes out of the fever. Good news?" Brow lifting, curiousity bright in chocolate eyes, she waited patiently to hear this news. When it came, there was shock. Mouth agape, eyes widening, her voice came out in an excited whisper,"That is wonderful news!" [d]
Beathag: "Och he shan't. He'll beh fine n' can get better tae have all his family near him. mmhmm..good news.." Then the woman took a moment to consider what the news was. The expressions of shock mirrored many, and the laugh Bess gave! So robust and healthy. "Och, Ah agree!" Hands were clasped together, and beside the door Kendrew began to stir --
Kendrew His chest was bandaged with linen so the poultice underneath would stay in place. His side was wrapped for medicinal reasons, and he found his head throbbed less than he could recall. The cough; dry now, not as productive with the waste of the lungs. Through slightly red eyes he turned to find a doorway frame his wife in the care of the woman he watched himself. At that? He couldn't help but grin. (d)
Liliana "Oh Bess I am happy for you!" If anyone deserved such, it was Bess. Such a miracle for a woman who had thought herself unable to have more children. Now she was to have one with the man who was her husband, the man she loved. "How did Adam receive the news?" Liliana did not need to be told that he was told. Bess would have told him first. And that was how it should be. With her attention on Bess, on the good news, Liliana did not hear her husband come awake.[d]
Beathag "Thank ye. Och, his lordship was elated, vera happy. For us, tis a dream. A dream we did nay know tha' would happen." The Duke was so elated at the news that his eyes watered, he embraced his wife and since that moment spoiled her. Made sure the carriage and each chair was comfortable, that she was well cared for and wanted for nothing. "He treats meh as a queen.." --
Kendrew: "Tha' is wonderful news. Congratulations..mah Lady." The Lord Campbell pushed himself up to lean against the pillow, smiling as best as he could manage. (d)
Liliana: "That is how you should be treated! We must see that you are well taken care of." Now, if there were anymore of a happy reaction to be had it came when Kendrew spoke. To hear him speak coherently, instead of in feverish rants, "That is how you should be treated! We must see that you are well taken care of." Now, if there were anymore of a happy reaction to be had it came when Kendrew spoke. To hear him speak coherently, instead of in feverish rants, Liliana gasped and darted for the bed. "You are awake!" Liliana was careful not to jostle him when she sat down on the edge of the bed. She wanted nothing more to wrap her arms around him, but did not out of fear of hurting him. Instead lips were placed gently against his cheek,"You gave us quite a scare, Kendrew Campbell." [d]
Rosalind: Rosalind hurried toward the infirmary. The rumors had grown to a fevered pitch in the castle, and with Her Grace's absence, Rosalind figured the lady to be in only one place. Though her heart was beating somewhere in her throat, she calmed herself down before entering the infirmary. After a quiet explanation, an attendant admitted her to where Beathag was seated, sharing company with none other than Rosalind's newest friend, Liliana. Liliana was rightfully occupied with her husband, or Rosalind would have thrown her arms around the woman. She smiled instead, looking at the scene, momentarily having doubts as to whether she should interrupt. She decided she was here more on the business of Skye than for personal interest, and made her curtsey to Beathag. "How is he?" she asked very softly. *
Kendrew: The company was a pleasant thing to awaken to - his last memory was a fever drowned delirium of purposes, his wife's face, the salt water stinging his wounds before the blackness over took him. "Forgive me," he whispered, lifting his arm to do what she wouldn't for fear of breaking him, "There was...nay a day tha' I did nay think of you." Trembling, pale lips kissed her forehead and he seemed to breathe easier in the knowledge that she was near him. Men, too, can break. Unable to speak again, he only smiled to the other occupants --
Beathag The Duchess smiled, walking forward to meet Rosalind part of the way, "Stubborn. M'thinks he'll live but Ah dun beh the physic tae make such an assumption." A teasing wink given, a smile, "Ye know Liliana Campbell, the Sir Kendrew's wife n' mah handmaiden?" (d)
Liliana Though Liliana had threatened many times to give him a good lecture, none came. Only relief and happiness at seeing him better. There was still healing to be done, but that he was coherent and fully awake was a good sign. Eyelidslowered at the touch of his lips to forehead and his arms around her, hiding the tears that clouded her chocolate gaze. Tears of joy. Laughing softly, opening her eyes to lock them with his, she whispered,"You are not allowed to leave me for awhile." Liliana had thought of him everyday as well. Every waking and sleeping minute. It was the sound of another that Bess spoke to that had chocolate eyes swinging toward Rosalind. Smile widening, joy shining on her face, she'd nod,"Aye, we know each other. You can come see for yourself how he is, if you wish." [d]
Rosalind: "I know them both," Rosalind replied with a smile. "And I am so glad to hear they are united again." She lightly rested her hand upon the Duchess's upper arm. "And I am sure you are overjoyed to have your knight home upon safe soil." With a soft squeeze, Rosalind moved on to join Liliana. She hugged the woman gently. "See, I knew he would return to you, Liliana. Who that loves you so dearly would delay in coming home to your arms?" She laughed quietly, then studied Kendrew. He had been in so much better shape when she had seen him last, and she had been in so much worse, that she winced in sympathy with his injuries. "I owe you dearly, Campbell." *
Beathag "Aye, Turas Lan dimmed n' palor when her White Champion n' Lord Guardian was not among its own tae be embraced. Now the land breathes again." Fingers enclosed over th etouch to her arm, "N' with the breathin' o' mah ladies tis one less lot tae watch nearly passin' o'er in anguish." Now it was time to watch the interaction between Rosalind and others to see how well she would place, and listen to words to learn what scrolls did not always say.
Kendrew: Slowly ,he balled his hand into a fist. Placing it over his heart, he nodded his head forward to the women in his company. "Ye owe me nothin', Lady o' Lamont. Ye owe me not. If you think you do, you repay it by bein' in the White Lady's service. Ye are well, this is good. There is naught much more tae be done o' the west..fold now." He furrowed his brow as he sought for words to hold to speak with, and words to describe what he knew. Rubbing his hand over Liliana's back he let his head go back against the pillows propped against the wall. "To be home awhile is good. The South. n' then the Westfold. In twenty-eight years o' service..Ah've ne'er seen such things, as in those two battles come taegether. Tell me, Lady o' Lamont, does Lanark still stand?" (d)
Liliana: Returning Rosalind's embrace, laughing softly, Liliana's chocolate eyes had a sparkle to them that had been missing. "You did tell me that. Though I think his lack of delay was more out of fear of me yelling at him." Grinning, falling silent, listening, her one hand sought his. She did not move from where she sat, though did motion for a chair to be taken for both women in the room. She was comfortable where she was. [d]
Rosalind: She had formed over the years the distinct ability to silence all the clamorings of heart and mind behind a mask as imperturbable as marble. Yet she was finding in Skye a people so earnest in their beliefs and honest in ambition that skills she had learned in dealing with the mainland's politicians would serve her very poorly here. She struggled briefly, futilely, with all the Lamont's secrets she had held since the fall of Inveryne four years ago, and the straws piled atop her knowledge by serving Lady Mary. Inhaling quietly, and expelling her breath smoothly, she knelt down beside the Campbell's bed and stared into his eyes. "Lanark stands, though I suspect that miserable little town should survive the Last Days. I find Scots most tenacious in matters of life and death." The corner of her lips pulled up in half a smile. "I think you convinced the Campbells of something worth fighting for. And I think," she added, thoughtfully, "it will greatly confuse the Lamonts to find they fight on the same side. I believe they deserve it." She cleared her throat. "Pardon me. I find after my treatment over the past month, I've grown rather bitter. I'm sure you identify...." *
Kendrew Kendrew Laran Campbell III was not a politician. Despite being the 3rd to bare the name or how auspicicious it sounded, he was the son of a successful farmer. The land crumbled under foot, under hand, and lived long in his heart. Then he became a solider, and no matter the acolade given he earned it because he was a soldier, and nothing more. To give a branch of a truly long, enobled family a reason to stand firm confused him. All that he did was stumble among them, weathered. He held a spear to support his weight that bore insignia he wouldn't allow touch the ground for his fealty bid him hold it always aloft. Fueds, vendettas. All of this meant little to him, and even those thinghis leige kept knowledge of baffled him to no end. He understood it in the simple terms of right and wrong, crime and punishment. He couldn't abide the politics that kept a woman such as the Lady of Inveryne a prisoner nor those that froze able bodied men from fighting. A bond was struck, a deal was made, and before the battle that saw him on the bosom of the sea they called him something of a hero. On his old tatters of tunic would be a kingly prize; a Campbell boar, reserved only for a chieftain. But he wanted none of this. "Mayhaps sense o' it all when God blasts his trumpents, Lady Rosalind. Till then it makes little sense tae me. Only glad ye flourish n' dae well." Of the resthe said precious little. (d)
Liliana: These two people had seen much, it seemed. She could not imagine. Liliana had not seen nearly as much. Looking at her husband, wondering what he had been through- what all horrors his eyes had seen- she gently squeezed his hand. [d]
Rosalind: She had the impression, having only served the Lady a handful of days, that Beathag would need an explanation. She had one forthcoming, even if the thought of delivering it made her wince. For the moment, though, she turned from Kendrew and studied the Duchess. "I meant to leave Aberdeen shortly after your people, Your Grace. Lady Mary arranged for my escape, as much as she could. And my escort was arranged by one of Kendrew's distant kinsmen, Colban Campbell. Colban is an old friend of mine; he fought at Bannockburn with my late husband, and reasoned with the Black Campbell in sparing Inveryne. For a while, at least," she added, her tone slightly wistful. She recovered, announcing the next events as if reading the history of another country. "When Inveryne fell, it was Colban Campbell that helped me escape to the south. The plan, then as now, did not quite work as expected, and I came to find myself in Aberdeen with the Bruce's sister. I was on my way to escape when men of my late husband's clan attacked my escort, and kidnapped me to the West. I escaped, and was almost immediately accosted by Campbells near Lanark." She shook her head. "I'm afraid my guardian angel has a sick sense of humor, my lady, Sir Kendrew, but it all came out for the best. None other than Colban Campbell stayed in Castle Lanark, and not long after my imprisonment, Sir Kendrew arrived. I missed a good deal of what happened in Scotland during my imprisonment." She laughed quietly. "Perhaps further explanation for your arrival might be found with Colban, if he lives. The man acts the part of the gentle giant, but his is one of the brightest minds I have encountered." *
Beathag: The Duchess would require an explaination if only to connect one point to another but wasn't going to ask it at the bedside of the ailing man. It didn't seem right, to burden wife nor those who experienced it for the sake of answerThose had a way of finding her in time, but Rosalind surrendered the knowledge. Taking a seat she listened closely for she knew well each place that was described, and beginning life as a clansmen's wife herself, she knew the names as if engraved forever in the palm of her hand. "The Lord Defender 'as quite a lineage." she looked to Kendrew before to Rosalind. What a tale, and strangely, these two were connected by it. "Ah'll 'ask word be sent tae this Colban Campbell, his lairdship will want such tidings. Ah beg ye pardon, Sir, but o' wot relation are ye now tae the lots n' what branch thus?"
Kendrew: "Argyll." He muttered. "Argyll, m'lady. M'father was a farmer, n' his father afore him, n' his afore him, n' his father afore him was said tae beh close tae the tanists once. But it was long agae, n' we are neither tanists stock or chieftains." (d)
Liliana: This discussion was closely paid attention to, though Liliana was a tad bit confused. That her husband had aided Rosalind so made her happy though. Ears stayed tuned to each word, but not one passed her own lips. As Kendrew's wife it was important for to know this. Though her husband did not seem to care much for the talk. Giving him a soothing smile, thumb rubbing gently along the back of his hand, her eyes moved between Bess and Rosalind. [d]
Rosalind: "I never considered it before -- they all seemed one and the same. But I do believe now it is possible to separate the man from the clan. It is to the shame of the clans that they cannot distinguish such. Whatever happened, it bought his return, and my freedom. I am sorry to bring politics to your bedside. I just...well, I am glad to find you safe in Skye." She stood up slowly, her injured leg protesting as usual. *
Kendrew: "It matters little," He assured her, putting a hand out to touch Rosalind's before drawing his hold to encompass the whole of his wife's hands. He sighed, "Does nay change our fealty nor duties now. They may think wot they will, a name to praise or to be draggin' in the dirt. Much like ye sad lass, I'm only happy to be home, n' nay dead on the sea. I'm loathed to think tha' any o' my men suffered, for this name. Died, for it. Only name they ought be fightin', dyin, or livin' under is there own and Aberdeen. A man may follow m'deeds. Ne'er m'name." He coughed, rubbing at his chest before looking to the day beyond the window. With a wry smile he said in appreciation, "There is no day tha' looks more good. The sunrises n' sunsets of m'childhood are that. Gone to the past. No sun will shine on Dumfries tha' will nay shine better here. Ye all know tha' now. God willin', if e'er I set foot on Scottish soil again my body and my soil will be joined in the reason." (d)
Liliana Thoughts of those who had died brought a feeling of sorrow and a silent prayer was given to them that they be welcome. Hearing the cough, Liliana looked at Kendrew,"Would you like some water, love?" She had not thought that her husband might be thirsty or hungry. Yet, now the thought crossed her mind. "God willing." Liliana looked to Rosalind, watching her a moment, thanking her silently for giving her hope. It was what had kept her going each day. [d]
Rosalind: "True," she said, resting her hand on Liliana's shoulder. "Until Scotland learns to unify under the banner and not the name, I'm afraid this is a lesson we'll be taught over and over again. They are quick to accept an ideal, a vision, but equally quick to squabble over property rights and petty power struggles -- ah, it is infuriating, and I pray every day to have the strength to remain above it all." She had had enough of brother fighting brother all for a few kine, or a scrap of cloth. It would be Scotland's doom, and it did not take an oracle to make that prediction. *
Kendrew: "There is no Scotland now. Her native sons are dead or dyin', or fled for places where they won't hang for lovin' the memory of her. There is no Scotland now." He recited knowledge from his tome, taking the water his wife offered. As he drank to replenish his thirst he had more to satiate. Turning to Beathag again he studied her carefully. "Ye musn't travel anymore tae there, and not as you are now. There is at once a deep love n' envy for ye n' your husband. They call your son The Ebony Prince o' the West."
Beathag: "Tha' is a lofty title for a boy o' five."
Kendrew "It is still what they call him, your Grace. They call your husband, the King o' the Westfold, and little refer to him as the Guardian of Scotland, but would seek to make him King. But o' the West, they say he is a rightful King in his own right..They call him the Griffin' o' the West, and ye, his White Lady. Lofty titles perhaps but with a name comes some measure of thought these days..ye...must have a care."
Beathag: Beathag sat back in her chair with hands pressed together, a small smile still on her features as she considered such things. "Ah am wot e'er Ah am. Adam would nay except such for the weight o' a name now cripples 'im enough..but we will 'ave care with it. Some may take offense n' others seek tae rally under it. He is daein' his best tae avoid more war." (d)
Liliana: Holding the cup of water to his lips, allowing him to drink as much as she wished, Liliana cautioned softly,"Slowly and only little sips." Didn't need him getting sick from drinking too much, too fast. When he was finished the cup was placed on the stand by the bed as she listened to their talk. A shake of head was given, for such words were not ones of happiness. Hopefully no more war would come. Peace was what was needed. [d]
Rosalind: "You'll be beset by men who care only for your son in as far as it gains them a hair's more power than their neighbors, madam. I would not doubt that in the coming days, you may find yourself with more allies than comfortable. Those displaced or ignored during the Bruce's reign will have much to gain in supporting your cause. They will not be caught out in the cold twice." She was ashamed to add her own adopted clan to that list. She had cared once, when she believed Lamont's cause just and Campbell's misguided at best, sinful at worst. The world was no longer so black and white. Fortunately, Rosalind had become adept at walking in this world of gray. *
Beathag "This counsel Ah'll keep close n' see Adam has it tae aid in the decisions he makes." FIngertips came together as she looked to Rosalind, "Ah'm a fortunate woman tae have such a household about meh. M'husband will have care for the politcs o'er the water, mah care is for those within mah household, mah large hearth, which is this isle, n' the castle at the closest. In tha' Ah think the ears o' a woman will serve us better than meh fightin' as an old banshee. Those days are done.." She could almost hear Kendrew sighing alongside Eamonn's belief waiting to be proved and Adam's fears diminishing. Eighteen years was long enough for any soul, and far too long for a woman. "Come, Lady Rosalind. There is a household tae acquaint ye with n' tidings we shall catch up 'upon while the Lady Campbell tends 'er husband, our fine Guardian.."
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Post by agreyingknight on Nov 8, 2008 11:23:51 GMT -6
Devon: Devon paced the waiting room waiting for the chance to speak with the Dutchess and the Lady Eirian. He did not relish telling him the news of Jonas's death he knew they would be devastated.
Bess: Beathag was not aware of Eirian's presence, or that her feet had even graced the shores of Skye Isle. It was hard to imagine the scope of other live's beyond the immediate. So full, so high was this life rising the tides of the whole world parted on Beathag's command. The doors opened to reveal her though, for he wouldn't be kept waiting.
Devon: He paused as she entered the room and bowed. ' Hello m'Lady" His sandy blonde hair fell about his face. He was dressed in skye colors with the Argyll tartan over his shoulder. He would not rise till she bid it and when she did he stood and said quietly. " I have some bad news m'lady."
Bess: "Goo' day, Devon. Wot matter brings ye tae me..n'sae low in tone as in yer manners..rise." The Duchess stiched her brows taut until he revealed reason for the transistion to another expression. A tilt of head was sign of quiet study, to gauge his reason for being here without words.
Devon: "Lord Caden and his Uncle were attacked on their way here, Caden was taken and Sir Jonas was shot and killed trying to defend him. " He said in a rush thinking it best to just spit the words out rather then delay the inevitable.
Bess: The rush did not move to her in quickness, instead the galloping horses of the idea stalled and the plain grew still. "Devon Argyll," she began, "Ye speak quickly n' have nay give wot ye say thought? How is it tha' this thing is true whe Jonas does nay fight.." She whispered in thought to herself as well as waiting for answer. If this were so...
Devon: He frowned. " M'Lady tis true. From what I am told the guards were drugged, bu' Sir Jonas does nae imbibe often and sae did nae drink of the ale. He heard th' struggles and came to Lord Caden's aide only tae take an arrow through the heart. We have his body down in th' court yard as we speak"
Bess: "Nay, he does nay drink oft...n' wot ye say is true, assuredly. His body 'is here but wot 'o the family..his cousins. Where is Caden, master Devon? The dead will keep themselves but wot o' the livin?" She sat in her chair with a heavy sigh
Devon: He frowned. "By th' time the guards woke Caden was gone, sae was Anna. Two guards were sent in persuit bu' we have nae heard back from them yet." He stood there with his hands behind his back and while he looked contrite, he did not seem to be all that worried.
Bess: "Ah want them found n' brought 'ere, safe. Do nay look tha' way for as far as I see it Devon, Caden is you're Lord now n' ye should find him thus." Fingers came up through her hair. If one fire was put out, another sprang to life with more strength, a passion to consume all that was held dear
Devon: He frowned but a moment then nodded. " Aye M'Lady I will gae find them m'self." He then turned to leave passing a young maid who paused at the door speaking softly. " M'Lady Can I speak with you but a moment." A furtive glance passed at the retreating Devon.
Bess: His frown was not exceeded in weight with the displeasure of her own. "Dae tha'," then the maid came forth to which she said, "Come in and say yer piece, please, send fer tea afore you do."
Maid: She paused to a passing maid asking for tea to be brought. THen came forward and curtseyed to her and began to speak. " Perhaps tis nae m'place m'lady but I was there when they unloaded Sir Jonas's body. I migh' have imagined it bu' I think I heard him groan when they se' him down. Twas verra quiet and could have been mistaken fer somethin' else bu' I am fair certain." she had heard from the guards that he was dead and their mourning the fact. But she had been there to hold hishead as they set him on the streatcher and heard the low sound that had startled her.
Bess: The maid relayed to Beathag a tale that she, herself, found fantastic in nature but the fantastic of substance recognize others of kind. Though it was not what she thought of at first. Not so long ago, on her deathbed, she revived. A poison that should have stolen her life only made it quiet for a certain number of days in passing. "Have them take the body o' Sir Robertson intae a room, in 'ave m'personal physician see tae 'im. If he is alive we shall find it thus." Maid: The little maid nodded and slipped off. She instructed the healers to relieve the watch that was hovering around Sir Robertson's body and she and the healers carried him to the healers ward to be tended by the Lady's own personal Physicians. She studied the covered body and wondered if she had imagined it all but knew deep down that she hadnt.
Bess: The thought of Jonas being a wonder of nature sat ill-at-ease with a feat of death defying life incarnate. Wasn't it in the same year she was to be put on the pyre she defied the expectation of cold, lifeless finality to see those that would destroy put to death instead? Shivers worked their way down her spine in conjecture with this thought, "Were they so incredible they defied all that was known?" The physicians went forth to the room where the little maid had gone, all matter of things to be done. To test for breath, they carried a mirror to see if it fogged. His hand would be poked with needles, his palm put over a candle flame to test for senses. He would be shaken, jolted, and jarred for the faintest bit of life.
Jonas: The mirror would fog though barely, his hands would jerk each time and when he was shaken and jolted he made a groan in painful protest. A cross bow bolt was imbedded in his chest right through the heart or so it seemed. The more they poked and prodded him the more he groaned in pain but those silver grey eyes did not open.
Bess: Through the silver of open door she watched man explain the unexplainable; the bolt stuck out of him, yet he moved. Did it miss his heart, impale other organs? "Stop!" she found herself decreeing not long after ordering the tests performed, "The man beh 'livin' 'nough! Take the bolt out o' 'im 'n tendhim! Dun leave him tha' way. Gah now." She demanded with no room to object, intent to wach each thing carefully. True, a woman who has seen much gore she not watch it o'er much, but the mind was not sensitive to harsh images. It was the soul that still had room to be impressed.
Jonas: They would go to work tending the aging Knight. They removed the bolt, they had to dig for the tip as it slipped off inside him. It was during this process they would discover the oddity. ONe of the healers looked up at Bess white faced. " He has nae heart M'Lady."
Bess: "Nay 'eart? How in the 'ell would he 'ave bled if he has nay heart..." What sort of horrors were the castle staff to be privy to now? As if the Heathen Duchess who died and lived, the black prince and the lost son of MacRauri weren't enough, now the Robertson-with-no-Heart lay ailing 'pon the bed as the bloody tip was fletched out. Stepping over to the scene to observe for herself she paitently waited for them to finish their work, ushering them on with calm effiencey. Still, from where the point was fletched free blood did not rush forth, as would have been customary for a puncture of the chest. Swallowing her trepidation she merely bid them tend him all the same, to see his pulse was made strong and he was moved to a private room to recover. Along the way she said, "Wot e'er ye discover ye will say nothin, write nothin', recite nothin. Dae ye here? Mention it and tis on pain o' your posistion on this island." Jonas: They nodded in fear and tended to him letting her see the fact that indeed he had no heart at least not where it should have been. One of them settled on his opposite side trying to feed him a pain potion. Just out of curiousity, or perhaps it was some sort of guidance she placed her hand on his chest. She gave a yelp and looked at the others then placed her hand on his chest again, the uninjured right side. She reached out then and grabbed the Lady's hand and placed it against the Knight's chest where she could feel the strong beat of his heart. She whispered with wonder. " He is an annomoly M'Lady." She said in awe a she stared down at where the Dutchess's hand now rested over his actual heart.
Bess: "Dun care wot the fook he is sae long as he is alive tae say it, ye see," she plainly corrected as the heart thumped on the wrong side of the body! Steady, slow but steady, it gave life to a faultering form. "Ye will nay mention this fer tis nay be needin' tae be talked o'er by the folks. Ah can nay stress tha' enough. Just make sure the man lives. Ah'll be 'pon the trellace.." Drawing a white hand from a white body, a moment's shock would subside of sheer need. It did her no good to dwell on such things for the shock was not good for her form, for life lived in it. Was that as inexplicable as a heart on the wrong side. A feat of nature?
Jonas: The Healers worked for hours to get him cleaned up sewn up and made comfortable. He was moved to a private room and cared for around the clock. It was closer to 2 o'clock in the morning when he finally woke with a groan and a whispered. " Caden?" The Healer looked up then slipped out to fetch a maid and sent her to find the Lady and let her know the knight had woken.
Bess: The Lady of Skye subsided to the call of a dream; an elixir of tea beneath the night moon lured her to the poster bed in the Lord's chamber that served as their joint room. When the little maid came it was a battle to rouse the Duchess from that thick, hard hold of nightborn ropes in twilight ocher. "Sir Robertson lays awake, my lady. He asks for his nephew. Shall we send fer a porter to fetch him. My lady!" Roused from her sleep sooner than Beathag was from hers, one of the handwomen, Lady Liliana, would scold the maid for disturbing the sleep the lady so direly needed. Antiquarian paradise was surrendered for present duty as she demured with a smile to the request, attiring herself in a thick robe over her simple sleeping chemise, slipping her feet into fur lined slippers to guard against the cold stone floors. Soon, in this nightly costume the lady would emerge into the halls where the lowlights of torches cast strange ring around her exterior presence.
Jonas: The healer had stayed with him Helping him drink sips of water and a little broth when he expressed hunger. He wrinkled his nose at the bland taste but drank what he could. He looked up as Bess entered the room and offered her a weak smile. His skin was still pale and he was sweating a little bit but it was obvious he would live. " Good eve M'Lady" He said weakly. " Ye should 'ave stayed abed."
Bess: "They bid meh rise tae see ye for m'self n' here Ah be. Here now, let me," she coaxed the healer away, protest and all were dismissed with a wave of the hand as she took up a place beside the bed of a friend. "M'knights tae forth in defense, an hour n' passin' at a sickbed is but the least can be done.Yer in the same lot as Sir Kendrew beh."
Jonas: He frowned. " Wha' 'appened tae Kendrew? Was Caden recovered? Wha' have I missed?" Each question had a long pause between each so he could breath . His eyes held worry. " Has someone fetched Kiley?"
Bess: "Slow down man, dun put all the 'ealer's work in a bind.." Sh eput her hand gently to each shoulder so he remained laying down. "Sir Campbell took a long trip tae the South o' Scotland n' returned from it worse fer wear. He lives, but nay without many prices paid. O' Caden there's been nay ill news sae nay doubt he is somewhere safe, n' as fer Kiley, nay, she has nay been fetched yet. Indeed, Ah dun think they'd know where tae send a messanger tae fetch 'er hence. Someone said she was nay 'pon Struan? Wot the falcon 'as returned with some hours agae. Is she resided elsewhere? If ye wish 'er fetched ah'll see it done.."
Jonas: He frowned deeply. " We mus' find Caden." Then she asked if Kiley should be fetched. " Nae, she bae tae far along tae travel from the Harp." He started to sit up. " Has annae one seen Anna?" If anyone could find Caden it would be Anna.
Bess: "'Ave nay had chance tae dae any o' tha' sort. But twill be done, " Broth was coaxed to wet his lips and satiate his palet as she eased the bowl to him. "Wot 'appened tae ye out there?"
Jonas: For a moment he was stubborn but then relaxed back and sighed heavily taking asip of the broth before answering. " I am nae exactly sure. We were on our way 'ere, camped for th' night. The guards drank deeply of the Ale, and ate well then went tae sleep, then in the middle of th' night someone stole intae th' camp and took Caden from 'is bed. I 'eard them an' tried to stop them when I felt pain. I was shocked tae find the bolt in m'chest. M'Thinks tha' the guards were given a sleepn potion."
Bess: "Good thing is ye live tae tell 'bout it," she murmured as the details unfolded before her as if a map to be read to a final destination, "The times are filled with these sorts o' things n' we can nay be tae careful. Ye n' Caden shall be assigned one o' the Talon contingent tae guard ye, an honor guard for each o' ye tae follow ye 'bout until things can thus be figured." Eamonn, Jonas, Kendrew. One by one - each was taken a turn at with the end being not what was sought, but far too close for comfort "ye can rest easy, all will be takin care of"
Jonas: He kept having this nagging feeling there was something he was missing but right now his shoulder was throbbing. His eyes closed and he sighed deeply.
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Post by Queen Beathag Aberdeen on Dec 9, 2008 15:31:54 GMT -6
- Closed -
- The story continues in Journey Foward: Preperations -
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