Le Sang Real

[Lady Eleanor Plantagenet]

Eleanor of Woodstock
Princess of England, the third heir
Beloved Sister of the King of Scotland

Eleanor could remember quite a few things in vivid context. Unbeknowest to the world at large, her memories would reanimate in intense shadow plays against the wall or fashion themselves in to ghosts with no words. "The sea was very hard to me," she whispered to a lady-in-waiting as delicate hands plucked up sewing from a basket, "my countenance could not take the constant rocking about, yet it did better, I think, when I sailed set out from Sandwhich to Guelders. It is not so long as that, yet felt twice as hard to me." The sewing needle was set with a brown string for her embroidery just as her ear was pierced by the sound of sea waves slapping against the wood of the boat. Her stomach was in continual turmoil. Half of the trip, it was said, was spent by the young lady turned over the railing or cast down below. 'The worst of it was coming through the Irish Sea, it seemed cold and unyielding, even though it is still summer." Lady Anne of Nottingham gave a nod of her head, recalling that was indeed the worst of it. The chamber smelled so terrible due to sickness that no amount of things burned in braziers made it better, let alone the lack of proper ventilation in the room. "You are right, your Highness. That was the worst of it. I think it was because though, you have had more strain than you should..before the time during. You have endured much in the last pair of years. I have worried for you, so much m'lady." Both women looked at one another, still young enough to be considered blossoms just now coming to full flower. Anne, at the very least, was four years Eleanor's senior, just one year older than the the Princess Royale, Lady Joan. Eleanor believed Anne was worldy and wise. Anne believed that for being so young, the princess had a wisdom none of the unscathed could possess. There was a widsom you gained with each year you lived, yes, but there was also the wisdom of experience.

Princess Eleanor Plantagenet, Eleanor of Woodstock, had the wisdom only being cast aside could bring for she observed the world on the outskirts more often than not, catching what others missed. Even as she sat sewing the young woman could tell you how many weaves made the fabric on which she put her flowers, the exact shade of brown, or the feeling of the wind between the seasons. She could search the eyes for soul truth. It was hard to lie to Eleanor, too, for she often sequested to great hardship a fit if people lied in her presence. God created Eleanor with an afliction that may yet be the pride of England.

"Oh Lady Anne, we can heal now, all of us. We are blessed that the King of Scotland has brought us hence. I remember him, for he is not a harsh man, nor one who is anything like what is in Europe. I am not sure what to make of him..entirely. I only know that if he should think so much of me to consider me as sister, I may honor my lord and brother by being here."

Blue Castle astonished Eleanor. It was a beautiful palace in its own right, with art the likes of which she had seen beautify London or sprinkle itself across Guelders. The paintings were many, not merely upon stretched canvas but whole walls and ceilings of what was called fresco. Polished floors were underfoot instead of interlocked pieces of gray stone. These were pieces of marble that seemed to offer up a part of her for a reflection. The hedge gardens filled with great carved lions, the flowers that grew in million colors in the hot houses nearby. It was here she would begin again, it was here she would know comfort. "God bless Lord Atherton, he saved us as he bid us escape.." Anne grinned softly, knowing that despite the oddness of the relationship she had to cast an eye from for the sanity of not wishing any near the Princess, she knew that it was a chance to find love. Many did not get such a chance at love or life.

Especially the royal blood of the conquered: Le Sang Real

[Lady Joan Plantagenet]

Joan of the Tower
Princess Royal of England, the second heir
Beloved Sister of the King of Scotland

The irony of her setting made her laugh. True to her name, she was given a room in one of Blue Castle's towers that spread out the city of Turas Lan like the pages of an illuminated text. She put her hand against one of the six windows that brought in the light of day or the night's moon. It was strange to smile again, because she thought'd she'd forgotten how. "Does my lady not think what it would have been if she were Queen of Scotland as it should have been arranged, and that this jewel were a jewel in her crown?" Air infused her sound when she did anything such as laughed or spoke. She was all that was lightness and air, attributed to the French side of her being. Her beauty was a mixture of Plantagenet fairness and Capet grace. "If I had been Queen," she said to the Lady who instructed the servants in what matter was fitting to arrange the items of Her Highness, "Than it would have been a jewel in my husband's crown, and I another one of such jewels. I do not deny, though, that there is a strange beauty to this city. It should not be here, such as many things should not be. Yet can you feel bane that it is? I can not." She settled her body next in the cut out of the frame. "His Majesty has allowed me to retain my birthsake. Will he make us fully vested members of his court?" "That is what they say, m'lady, yet what will it mean for you? Will he then seek to marry you or the Lady Eleanor off for the sake of peace?"

She considered that as a distinct possiblity. Her 'brother' would bid her do the duty of a woman instead of granting her the chance to experience what she had heard so many women did with as second nature here. Salic Law vanished in the morning dew, yet she was still a woman of intense duty, loyalty, and virtue if nothing else. "If his Majesty chooses for me a husband," she said ,"Then I will trust his judgement. He kept England above itself, it would do us as a country no honor to repay it in disobidience. I am sure, if he did such a thing, His Majesty would choose carefully and wisely."

She was born in a tower, and now resided in a splendid one, yet it was still a tower. But until the day King Aberdeen called them to court, the world was theirs. It was a story she almost dared not live but would not allow time to escape from her fingers.

She was eighteen years of age, but she was still young yet.

[Lady Eleanor Plantagenet]

Introductions
Written by the Creators of StWI

Adam and Beathag’s pasts were filled with the future of a land, burdegoning to enter the world as a powerhouse. Neither knew as they grew up and entered the adult life that their lives were truly groomed by fate… by destiny… to lead a world… one that would have much transpire in a period of less than five years. A landless knight, a carter of death, would become a political savvy, and eloquent King, and his warrior wife would become a peaceful and intelligent Queen. They would rule over a land that would internally endure civil strife, brother invaders, and eventually a clan war that would change attitudes and ways of life… externally, they would choose sides in a desert war, and push aside other powerhouses of the world to make a stand and announce their presence.

The son of a King would gladly take his inheritance upon a ducal chair instead of a kingly throne, and do so gladly with fealty given to a King as a Beloved Brother; and siblings of a hated bloodline would be granted status as the King’s Beloved Sisters. Edward had been given the ducal authority of England, with the duty of bringing England to a status she was familiar with or deservedly needed… and the King’s Beloved Sisters, Joan, of the Tower, and Eleanor, of Woodstock, would be summoned to Skye’s capital to live with the King and Queen.

***

England's children were either humble souls who recognized supremacy when it was before them or merely biding their time until enough support could be gathered in order to ursurp what was theirs. Rumors and gossip populated the tables of great Lords who discussed the matters of the day beside the residences of the source. Parliment let out, and on occasion a man would look above his head to find on the upper levels passing the sight of one of the two women. For the time being rumor had it that the ladies retired from public life until bidden to the King's presence. Where they went, what they did was as interesting a topic as who they really were. Lady Woodstock had a reputation that came in advance of herself. Small, sad, and insane. On occasion a maid could be paid to pass on little things: the lady rambled to herself when none were about, or even talked of air when others were. A polite expression was used 'Closer to God' yet the unhinged of tongue spoke of it for what it was. After some upset in the late summer she had not ventured beyond her quarters save for church services. Her inner circle consisted of a woman by the name of Anne of Nottingham, another by the name of Eliza, chamberers, and her Sister Joan. A bit of her heel or the sideways glance of her in the gardens on a walk were all that consisted of her now. Lady Plantagenet, whom was mostly referred to as Lady Joan of the Tower, became the visible one of the two. In passing through the halls and center portions of the castle she would cant her head when others bowed. She would smile, offer small word if word was given her. One was kept away while one was put forward. It was no mystery that some thought to bend his majesties ear of putting the youngest one to the keeping of nuns and the eldest to be given all of his attention. Joan kept her silence because she did not know who to speak to! Who was friend, who was foe? One wrong move could marr all the prospects forever. So her thoughts foretold, so her thoughts were that abseloute. Eleanor remained away from the eyes of the world after an outing had gone awry. Doubting herself and her ability to remain contained profusely, she did not go about when the traffic of the parliment or dignatary was high. She took no visitors, though sent well wishes back to them. The Lady Anne remained ever faithful beside her, as the pair sat in small sewing circles, listening to reading of poetry or fable, or going for walks. Not even the rare offer of cards sparked Eleanor's ability to smile away the ghosts. Indeed her fits were far and few between so removed from the world, but it was no way to live. Joan was part of the world to an extent yet could not go further. They were paralyzed without acceptance or reproach from the crowned head.


Adam and Bess had returned to Turas Lan in a period of celebration… the clan wars, the invasion of England, the destiny in the desert, all now behind them… Turmoil has changed into a period of peace, just as summer had given nigh unto autumn… As the leaves changed upon the tree, , long-untamed attitudes began to accept what was inevitable…

One day what both young women had speculated on, talked for hours on, finally came to fruition. She sat there with her sister and all of their women, speaking aloud on what would be now that word reached the capital of the royal couples return. "It will be soon I am sure that their majesties will call for you both. All will be well, good women! You have lived be grace, virtue, and meekness.How shall they not be pleased?" Lady Anne agreed with the words of Lady Jenna, the principle woman of Joan. Anne would reply, patting the elder sister's hand, "She is right," it was Jenna's nature to always be on the brighter side of things but Anne relinquished her severe position in this matter in order to agree, "You have been an influence on the women I have heard, already they seek to emulate your manner and taste. The Lady Eleanor is calm, good, and sweet. You are the pinacle of all this yourself, and more. The King and Queen will be very pleased." No sooner did she speak than the Lord Chamberlain himself gain admittance to the solar of Joan's apartments. The page by the door announced his presence, "The Lord Chamberlain!"

His strides were confident. The baring he used to hold his pride up was the pride the King bid him have for his was the Lord Chamberlain of the Griffin. His presence filled the room immediately, bringing the lesser women to a lower curtsy than the higher, though make no mistake, as an agent of the King both Joan and Eleanor did not disappoint in a show of respect. Eleanor rose an instant before Joan. Suprisingly, she spoke in a voice of demure tone and utmost royal reservation, "Lord Chamberlain, good day and welcome. We are ever so pleased to have you call." When Joan rose, she reflected outward the pride for her sisters composure by reflecting it in her own. "Good day, Lord Chamberlain, how may we attend you?"


Theodore did not smile but his eyes were jolly. If he wished more to attend that were true royal blood that needed no reminder, he would find it in these women. Still, he offered but one correction, "The Sisters of the King need not lower themselves so deep before one who is as his servant, so that we all may be if called. I come to tell you the King requests you should meet with him this day as he makes his arrival from other matters. He sends his regrets that he could not have made this time come sooner, and bids you in all pleasure and haste to make ready and come at once to Griffin Castle. He has commisioned these gowns for you, his first gift for his Sisters." He made his staff thunk twice on marble floors, producing servants who brought in two fine gowns. All of the women gasped! Eleanor reached out to touch each, knowing who was who by size alone. White and green had never been so displayed before her eyes. "We will be sure to thank His Majesty, they are beautiful!" The tinier woman turned to the one taller by a few inches, equally astonished. Joan was given the gown of purple and gold, marveling at it. "These are fit for higher than us, we will be forever in his debt." The Chamberlain shook his head, "They are suitable for women who have a place of prominence. You come in the rank just behind the royal children ,Arch Duke and Duchess, and the remaining blood family. You, goodly women, and your brother, shall be as no less than family as desired by his majesty. So then they are suitable for such women of prominence. For you are now the King's sisters."


The pair curtsied and turned away to begin the preperations. The Lord Chamberlain would be go in to the hall to give them privacy, as in each apartment their was a flurry of activity. Hair was brushed until it shown, braided in ribbon that matched their garments and artfully pinned aloft. Skin was perfumed, hands cleaned and softened. Foundation pieces were laced in to place in order for the gowns to look best on prepared canvas made of feminine form. What would add better, broader strokes? Case after case was brought forth to them until the right things were selected. Crucifix necklaces of heavy gold, paired with sapphires in Joan's ears, and emeralds in Eleanor's.

***

As the King rode to the steps of the Griffin Castle, his wife and children in the royal carriage… he would take sight of two smaller figures at the top… royally dressed, one in a dress of purple and gold… the younger in green and white… Behind them, the Lord Great Chamberlain, Theodore Sinclair, stood proudly in the shadows. It was he, who ensured the Ladies were positioned at the right time and appropriately dressed for the regal couple’s return. In a box, he held so patiently, were the Griffin coronets that Adam commissioned to be designed and produced in time for the regal couple’s return.

As their eyes sparkled, Adam would smile and dismount the great white steed garbed in black and gold. Carriagemen would open the door to the carriage and bow deeply as the Queen and the children would disembark the carriage into waiting arms of nannies and Ladies in waiting… Gathering at the foot of the stairs, Lord Great Chamberlain would step to the side… “God Save the King, All Hail the Griffin King… God Save the Queen, All Hail the Griffin Queen…” and the entire entourage would bow down… and the congregation gathered would follow suit as the royal couple ascended the stairs.

As Adam approached, Eleanor and Joan remained bowed deep… “Rise my Beloved Sisters… My greeting you home is far too long delayed…” his hands extended out to each one as he spoke eloquently in pure English. Much was backwards and he knew it… He should have been home when they arrived and greeted them at court… but he had charged the Chamberlain to see they were treated as royal sisters of the King until his return… Now he would attempt to right wrongs…

Underneath the vantage point of eyes, Joan held Eleanor's hands. Two hearts beat in rapid unison with all the flare of bird's wings trying to gain freedom from a cage. A day they had discussed for well over a month now came to pass. All of life was in the hands of two people - in their eyes, the hands of the King. Equal stature still stood foreign in acceptance despite their time with Claramae, who still acted as an agent on behalf of a higher Crown. If Eleanor could speak to her sister, she would say on how strange it was that the children were so far along in age yet still in the castle proper. They came from the arms of a mother to servants, but it was in the mother's arms that was so strange a practice to witness. If Joan could speak to her sister, she would say that the children looked on their mother and father with love before going to other servants whom were also loved, but received not the same looks of affection as they were carried off. Look how the King turns his head to see if his wife descended the step of the carriage with care. From these two came a way of life marvelous and frightening. They remained low enough so that they were near upon one knee knelt. Heads low, they stayed that way even as the King gook each hand to help them stand. No pair of eyes dare look on him without permission. Even if granted, it would be amazing if they did. Eleanor seemed to be the better choice if he hoped for that. Even in her state, she was still younger than Joan.

[Lady Joan Plantagenet]

Introductions
continued
locations may change, but this will remain in Blue Castle for continuity. All are welcome to join
Present Scene: Griffin Castle, Welcoming Feast, Autumn 1333



His hands were calloused… theirs was soft… His form stood taller than theirs… yet he did not think himself higher… both were from royal bloodlines… Now was the moment in history that many would speak about… historians would write about… just as the opportunity presented itself months ago as he gave Edward the Dukedom of England… royal blood once again lived in castle in London… and the sisters two, were now the King’s royal sisters. Adam’s hands guided them to their feet… “I trust you both were informed of your standing under my decree as Royal Sisters of the King?” and he gave them his usual charming smile…

After they had answered, he turned. Turning gracefully, ensuring both women remaining at his side, he glanced briefly at Bess and smiled proudly. Then he would raise his hands, with theirs, as he presented the Ladies to the congregation….

Theodore would pound his staff twice upon the stone of the castle steps… then a barriage of horns would resound a royal announcement. As people in the crowd hushed… and the horns ceased… Adam and the ladies stepped forward, Bess moving to the side of the youngest… It was then that Theodore tap the stone once more… and from the side, the Crown Herald began to speak loudly… “Hear Ye Hear Ye… To those present, be it known, by royal decree, King Adam I, declares Joan and Eleanor, of Plantaganet line of decendacy… is now and forever more, the King’s Beloved Sisters… and their standing to be in accordance with the decree…” The Herald began reading the lineage and peerage of the Aberdeen King and Queen and the Beloved Sisters Plantagenet…

As the herald spoke, Adam glanced left, then right and smiled that charming smile again. Once the herald was done… and the crowds erupted in cheers and huzzahs… Adam turned to one then the other offering each his individual desires. “I wish you happiness… love… and a full life… And I pray you shall be happy here with me and Bess…” and he gave them that boyish wink as he spoke… Then he heightened the attention of the crowd as he held their hands high once more… the crowd bursting into God save the King… God Save the Queen… Long Live the Beloved Sisters… huzzah… and cheers abound.

*

Nothing would ever be the same again.

Plantagenet blood sat on ducal chair surveying the land that should be ruled from a king's throne. It was overthrown by those it sought to supress, now not only befriended to it but its princesses embraced. A time of chaos kept the family apart for many weeks, and not even before the fall could Edward do more than send a message to his sister Joan with the following words: "Go forward and be all that you have been in order to become more than we may be destined to be. No matter what will be written of us in the annuals of time, it will never change that you, that we, are of the blood of kings. You may have more reign now over your future than we would have ever had otherwise. Go forward with God." It had been her destiny to once be the woman beside a man that Adam had become. Over the years, the betrothal was anulled by Parliment at the order of the crown. Such a betrothal, if kept, would put a challenge from the house to come after that of Robert Bruce against the Aberdeen whom he'd bequeathed unto to the throne. Such a betrothal, if kept, would give England means to think itself higher. It would grasp for the height again. There would be squabbles with legality by papal legate, over parliment tables, only decided by coats of arms splashed in blood. Still, she remained to take the hand of her Lord, her King, and now... a brother. She had watched the world under his banner rise from the Yorkshire ash. It was not a world familiar. It was not a world that was bad, either. Men sought to establish themselves on merit. Women, for the first time, rose with no fear of reprisal to speak their thoughts. Instead of alone, she sojourned beside her sister and brothers save for when progressus called all away. She felt somewhat endeared to her new way of life only to be given to another just as she'd gotten used to the last. When he addressed her, the old world still clung to them in manners. It was not until addressed would they speak. Her throat closed where Eleanor's was oddly opened.


"Yes, Your Majesty. We were informed before our progress here by Her Grace," in this she would mean St. Laurence, "and once more, of all of the generous entitlement, by your Lord Chamberlain. I would say, for us both if I may, we will endeavor to be gracious, good and modest, and to be examples of your pleasure and goodness in your court, sire” From the mouth of the mad come words of poetry. Eleanor had reigned in herself, for at least time from the world in little circles of women, in prayer, allowed her to make decisions on the condition to which she was pent, for better or worse. No one knew if madness could be truly contained. Was it spurned by condition of life, of sequences? Was it inherited? Some thought due to the former King's sometimes disastrous indiscretions given to public view that he was not in complete right, or that her mother's true nature inflicted desparity in the womb. The most obvious cause they said were the decisions of the royal couple, the fall of England, and the unsuccessful union with the Count of Guelders. When she spoke her eyes did not venture too far up, though she had heard some looked on the royalty with no qualms nor fear of reprisal as it was said eye to eye one did business.

*

Trumpets blared and a proclaimation was read siting where they fell in line within the household and lineage of the land. Taken now to the side of the Queen, Eleanor looked up at the woman whom she had heard so much of. When the Spanish left English shores, no sight of her did she see in the waning summer sun. She offered a small, tiny smile which one Beathag's heart without reprieve. Poor child, she thought, poor tiny woman-child with a mind no one strove to understand. One gust of air and the tiny thing could be gone from the world! She would strive to see that this did not occur. Of Joan, she remained silent still save for, "We will live always for their Majesties pleasure." Indentured servants of the Scottish crown, mind, body, and soul. She was prepared since the journey to do whatever would be asked of her. A taste of wandering - the hint of freedom captivated the senses but made not too bold the mind. Still he wished them love, long life. He wished them things that they had not known save among one another. Joan smiled to Adam and for a moment she lifted the corner of blue gaze to meet with his, but not directly. No. That would take time.

People's cheers were a wonder to both women. Did the people want them here or was it a happy court welcoming them on behalf of King's pleasure? How much did these people observing them on castle's steps given they were surrounded by the castle's wall, know of the world beyond? Joan was not a fool, nor was her sister as much as some deemed her a holy one. Each of them knew behind every courtier's fond greeting could be hidden intention. Behind every offered hand a cloaked dagger waiting to pierce naieve bodies.

After the applause everyone went within the castle where in the great hall food awaited. Lines were made of people of importance for each young woman to meet the peerage. Ever wary of those hands clasping, each found men would give chaste kiss and women curtsy only. Eleanor's hand was taken without public trepidation but she feared what meaning was in each pair of eyes.

The line formed long in the hall… for once, the entire court gathered, no excused absences tendered by the King; save one Iain Robertson and Lady MacGregor… Many said this new crown was one to make or break tradition… and traditions many were broken upon his word… and one more, for the King would stand at the end of the stairs whilst his wife and his Beloved Sisters sat upon the thrones… With each bow, the King, nay his herald, would introduce each member in the reception line… This King… this man… tall in height and long in stride… their beloved brother, took the time to personally ensure all knew his interest and sincerity. It was amazing how Adam knew most, if not all, the peerage… their loyalty strength and weaknesses… Adam knew his court… and in such knowledge came strength… strength of King… Court… and Country.

His actions may, or may not, have given the ladies trust in his word and deed, but at least they could vouch for his attempts… With each introduction, his sea-green eyes would seek deception as he peered into those of the line… then sought the ladies’ eyes for reassurance… and his own right, Adam was one, not to frivolously break tradition… but always had a reason… a reason for most action… deed… or word. He needed to reassure Joan and Eleanor that he was true... true to them… his own family… and to his Country, all.

After the reception lines were concluded, it was automatic for servants to scurry aound setting out wine, mead, and ale for all those seated at the royal table… and the other tables lined on both side of the Great Hall… Adam sat next to his wife and sisters… arranged for all with an ability to gaze upon… to the outside of them were the sons and daughters of the royal pair… and layered outside them were the remaining family members… Theodore had arranged the tables in perfect order… despite many last minute changes, the master planner was quite capable.

The exchange of glances between Adam and his Lord Great Chamberlain gave Theodore pleasure… and he bowed deep. Adam looked out over the crowd and made a toast to his wife… his family, ending the toast in welcoming his beloved sisters… And with that, he was the first to eat…


So many faces to recall, names and rank. So many new people that were not the peerage of England. He sat them on two lower chairs on the raised dias on either side of the Queen, where he took the pains of seeing all paid them homeage. It was akin to being two dolls on display really. On each head were the coronets made for them. People with the ability to do so would discretely shift the eyes upward to observe the Griffin coronets. Rest assured, people spoke. "What will he do with them?" "Aren't they simply charming, a pity the youngest one is mad." "yes a mad murderess and a quiet viper. He better not place them in the line of succession." "Oh he wouldn't do that, he is giving them a place of promience but not before the royal siblings or the heirs, have sense. He is merely keeping the throne of England secure by sitting them on a Scottish dias!" All order of things occurred with this monarchy, the division of England by quarters, governing dukes and subsequent earls, what became of the other counties? People discussed the ancestral homes of people where loyalty was given in service where others paid a monetary price to keep what was theirs. Interlopers had already been cast out of their homes, some vacant sitting on proud lands. Others waited for descendents to come of age or were being squabbled over by relatives.

"Welcome at court, my lady."
"God bless you and my thanks."


Over and over it went, person after person. By the time dinner was served and they were seated at the tables with the royal family, their family, Joan began to open up a little in order to speak with the brothers and children. Eleanor at that point had fallen silent. She was tired, terribly so. The day had been long and the voices for once exceeded anything in her own head by being so numerous on the outside:

"What ever will he do with them?"
"God only knows, pretty little pieces to play with I'll say. The Lady Joan is a fine cut figure. Eleanor is a perpetual child. Is that why her husband grew tired of her, nothing to hold on to?"


To her credit she heard them but at distant tables and rose to do nothing. She only smiled at those she was near, accepting a cup. Joan did too, and the sisters smiled at one another. Fondest friends, frightened of one another in the same exchange. The only familiarity. Joan lifted her cup to Eleanor, and Eleanor to Joan. Beathag would lift up her cup as she stood to say:

"Join me now, n' liftin yer glass n' toast tae this day, the harvests have been gathered n' the people celebratin' a bounty. We celebrate now the arrival tae court o' these fine ladies, gems in our crowns n' light tae our hearts. Tae the Lady Joan and Lady Eleanor!"

[Lady Eleanor Plantagenet]

Introductions, continued
piece presented: by King Adam, followed by Lady Eleanor
tag: King Adam
Fall, 1333



“Huzzah… Here here !!” Adam raised his glass to the toast, a smile offered to the beloved sisters. After drinking, then returning to his seat. Sea-green eyes sought the room… Adam was a realist… often portraying the optimist… Did his attempt to welcome them fall short? Was there anything else he could have done to make them feel welcomed? His analytical mind molled over the thoughts. Bess had done wonderfully in welcoming Joan and Eleanor… Theodore performed outstandingly in preparing them and seeing to their well-being. What else could have been done?

His sharp senses often used in combat, were now utilized in a different kind of war… a war of prejudice… Just as Eleanor had heard, he too heard the comments… and ground his teeth to refrain from saying anything… All he could do was swallow, the sea-green eyes slowly drifting to the sisters, then back again refocusing upon the speakers. Noted, and logged for future references !!

After all the protocols were done… and the meal heartily enjoyed by all… Adam summoned the Lord Great Chamberlain… and in doing so, resulted the finest of wines being served… wines from France, Germania…as far away as the Empires of the East. Only Bess would find this as an oddity… but Adam had plans…

The people of court were wined and dined… and now Adam stood behind his Queen, his strong hands upon her shoulders… he leaned down and whispered in her ear… “Tha gaol agam ort… forgive mae, mae luv… baet Ah cannae stand bae and take the hurtul words…”

Then he took his glass after it was immediately filled… and began walking around the Great Hall, amongst the tables… Adam was a passionate man… a stalwart politician and military strategist… and his passion, and emotions, he tried so hard to restrain… but when his family, or his honor, is at stake… emotion, over logic, often wins….

He started his speech in cleae English, with only a hint of Gaelic… “I know the Nations are a young... and vibrant lamb… and underneath it all is a wolf in sheep’s clothing… yearning to leap out at the unsuspecting…” he would pass people, and look at them directly… “…and there amongst our people are those that would prefer a different King…” and Nays rose from the crowd… the people shaking their heads… “Aye, there bae… and I do not use a taste tester, for I believe in my people…” he points directly around the room at various people… “especially All of you…” then he lowers his hand and continues walking… “You are the people of court… supposedly my most trusted… I am nay naïve to know that shuffling of power is entertained to find that niche position upon court… I understand… and I tolerate it…” he looks back at the crowd… “But only to a point…”

“Deceivers’ fear of detection is increased if…
Target believed to be hard to fool… Target believed to be suspicious…
Stakes are high: serious rewards and/or punishments.”

“If there is one thing that I shall nay allow…tis to allow being lied to… or made a fool…” he looks around to a mumbling crowd, his eyesight focusing upon the ones who spoke ill of the sisters, but he did not focus his woirds toward them, allowing them a bit of latitude. His head held high, he continues… “Equivocation… the word means the art of making an indirect, ambiguous, or contradictory statement…” Long strides carried him about the room… smiles to some… no emotion to others… “We few here gathered in this room, cannae afford to be in disunity… or the ill-affects of Dun Darroch would revist us… for there are nations… willing to tear us apart… to belittle us and enslave us… BUT… I depend upon those here, not as King, but as a man… to be honest and forthright, and as King, to have an honorable court. Deception shall nay be tolerated… not here… If any one of you cannae live unto those standards, then I bide you farewell… BUT…” he looks directly at those guilty, then around to room to disguise the guilty… “If all, or any, of you decide to remain at Court… Vow to be my steadfast, for I would rather have a small court of trust… than a large court of deceivors…”

He had offered his standing viewpoint… now he would offer the challenge. Setting down the glass upona pass of the royal table; “In the coming days, if faces disappear from court, I shall understand… but if any remain… then swear, upon the threat of death… fealty, if yu would… to me as King… and all my decisions…” He had not looked at Bess, nor the children, nor the beloved sisters. With that said, he made his way back behind his beloved wife…

“At no greater time in history has the Gaelic people been so unified… so advanced in economy, military, and justice system… in no less than half a decade… Why? Nay because of me… but the PEOPLE… and am but a guide… and guided you well, I have…” his hands move to the girl’s shoulders. “These two Ladies… born of royal blood… are my Beloved Sisters… and as such enjoy my life…” He moved to Joan and kissed her cheek… then he moved to Eleanor and kissed her cheek… Moving back to Bess, his hands once again to her shoulders… “I suggest you all relook, deep into yer hearts, and see the sisters as I do… God’s gift… Gems of life to be valued greatly, as you would your own son or daughter, brother or sister. For they are not my playthings… nor a display to be sneered at, nor asked for faux praise… I have NO other intentions with Joan and Eleanor Plantagenet, other than offering them a place to live… to thrive as humanly possible…” he looks at them, one, then the other as he spoke… “To be loved as family… and should a suitor be chosen by them… I shall be the diligent brother…” and he smiled…

Looking back to the crowd who had fallen dead silent… “Now as a royal court… we can either self-destruct… or be stronger than any court in history…” and the man sat down… In many ways, he was restrained in his speech… keeping back the venom and bite he so desired at certain individuals… instead he treated it similar to parliament, or speaking to soldiers… if nothing else, he was forthright and plain. Immedately after sitting down, a new glass, filled with the finest wine, was presented to him… Nodding, then placing his elbows upon the table, his fingers interlaced and rigid, his forehead against the tips of the thumbs, his gaze to the floor between his knees. Silently, he waited for the repercussion from his speech.

*

Often, the young are the first to act out of passion. Age is said to temper that passion, but is it a trait that is really so desired? If age cools than it should be seen as the eternal winter to the fire of life, and all of the time, people do not wish to be cold. Eleanore wasn't. Experienced, perhaps. Still naive? No one doubted it. None, however, expected her to rise up as the musicians played on a note of caution. Do they continue? Should they wait for prudence? Eleanore did not know what would please Adam, but she knew what pleased her and Joan the most were more than the sewing circles in which they sat, but lessons with the dance master.

Clipped of the want to whisper, no one said anything when Eleanore rose to the tune of the musicans. Tenative drinks of wine followed shy tastes of the supper. Confidence radiated from her every feature as she appeared before the table of their majesties, her sister, and the nearest of company. "Gracious Lord, and Brother, a dance if it should so please you to make merry. Above all else I feel we should be merry." The Queen approved with a clapping of her hands, inspiring the same from a few others of jolly persuasion. She went out to the middle of the floor to begin a dance of circling where one would be in the center: Eleanore was not often the center of attention for reasons worth remembering, but this would be worthwhile.

She lowered her body in to a curtsy, finding that another who knew the figure she sought to impliment joined her. Without knowing her name the woman performed a salutation in kind. Linked then hand in hand, they began to circle round, dance individually, then join together. One after the other, pairs formed, hand in hand to form the greater circle round.

[Lady Eleanor Plantagenet]

King Adam's reply


Was it beyond the King to allow tradition to be broken? Of course not… for Skye was the epitome of change… and a lass, asking a man to dance, was one more allowance encourage by the King as he rose to his feet upon her request. “Beloved sister… I would love to…” as he stepped away from his chair, the sea-green eyes inconspicuously scanned the faces of the audience, he leaned down and kissed his beloved wife on the cheek, then moved to the floor…

Adam smirked at the lass as she bowed upon his approach… “You think it unexpected, lass…” he whispered to her as she stayed in her bow. Then with a nod to the music master, he looked to the crowd, and in his most eloquent style of speech, as if he addressed parliament, he spoke… “Before I pleasure myself with a dance, I shall tell you a story…” Looking to Eleanore, he bowed quickly, then looked to the crowd as music began to play slowly and softly…

“Once there was a farmer, Rocco, who was plagued with bad luck… and so his superstitious brother sends to him Bettina, a country girl, as a mascotte, who he hopes will cure this ill fortune. The farmer's shepherd, Pippo, falls for the virgin Bettina, who is later encouraged by Prince Laurent to live at his nearby castle. Bettina thus was sent to the court of the Grand Duke of Laurent and became a countess. When Bettina became a countess, Pippo was forbidden to see her… and Bettina became very sad in heart. To try to lift her spirts a troop of Italian dancers, whose leader was named Salterello… also known as Pippo, would try to supposititiously amuse her. Pippo helped Bettina escape from the castle when it seems she is about to be married to the Prince. The lonely Prince now received a bout of bad luck when war breaks out and he is rejected by his subjects. Pippo marries Bettina in the hope that her powers would be hereditarily bestowed upon their children. The prince became reconciled with the promise that he should be allowed to adopt her first child.”

Adam smiled and looked at Eleanore, offering her a wink. “This is an assumed covert to bring about a forbidden marriage and hoodwink those who forbade it…” Adam smiled brightly to Bess, then Eleanore, and finally and the audience. “The Saltarelle… represents the eternal drama of love, the wooing, the resistance, the triumph;… entirely accompanied by gestures, the mandolin, and the tambourine, in light measure. And as such, we shall demonstrate it…”

With one hand extended to his new sister… he offered a smile and bowed as she took his hand… the music began to increase to ¾ time… “A special dance for a special lady…” Then the music began the saltarello, with a meter of music at a fast triple beat-

He knew his new sisters had been with a dance master and the Saltarello, from Italy, was a favorite… and in such knowledge, began lessons to learn it… Then at the proper downbeat, he began to lead her into the dance.

Eleanor would hold her dress, imitating an apron, and faced the man opposite her. Hands then clasped together, and into a normal step of two they began… then with a double with a hop on the final or initial upbeat… The first time-stroke of each measure was strongly marked, commencing with a brève…. then a reprise with a beat in between, then an occasional little leap and three little changing steps or shuffle… and they repeated the dance about the floor.

At the beginning, they were a single couple upon the floor, but very soon the entire audience is carried away by the enthusiasm of the music, and move to the floor in the pleasure of the dance.

Wickedly, Adam had arranged music for them in hopes of using it at the coming-out of the Sisters. The first portion was with Eleanore… the second with Joan… and lastly, with his beloved wife. With each one, he handed the previous partner to a confident replacement… and invited the next with a bright smile.

Finally, he danced with his beloved wife… mother to his children… Queen to their land… and in the very touch of hands, came the warmest glances of affection… and as they joyously danced around the floor, he mouthed “I love you…”

*

The reply of the women


The Saltarello , by the King's story and call was what the minstrels played. It was complicated by a favorite of the dance master, insisting what wasn't graceful needed to be elegant. Elegance, he said, could disguise any flaw in grace to make it look on purpose. It was time to practice that now. She smiled as she listened to him tell the story while the court found it an interesting diversion from what had occupied them earlier. A relief, really. No one viewed the curls in her hair or the length of the throat, or tried to figure out her future in gross contexts when the King, Lord of All, spoke.

She was his partner the first half of the dance. She came before her sister and brother. For once, no one harkened her to the voices in her head but to the precision of her feet keeping with the beat of the dance. The Griffin Coronet glittered on her head almost to the point of making a halo, and by God, England seemed to matter precious little now. By the tamborine beat and the mandolin string she felt her body fill up with the echoes in all the places that were hollow. Eleanore, for once, was full. Not of demented ideas or the ghosts of shredded joy, but the purity of joy itself.


Next, he danced with Joan. She was practical in her application of art, memorizing steps as to be the paragon of what a lady should be when she danced. Passion showed itself in the not so careful pulling of her mouth in a higher smile. She was not as unreserved as her beloved sister. Nor would she ever be. Still, in accepting the dance she did something unusual. Not only was it pleasing to the King but it was pleasing to her. In moving on to another partner she was not speculated but was. She lived in the moment, squarely. Created not of anyone before or after her.

All around them people vyed for a place in the same moment. Laughter took the place of venom bites on the tongue. Holding of hands the place of withdrawal. By the time Joan had gone to another partner's keeping she could not help but watch how the King danced the dance with his lady-wife. For being as old as she was, both sisters couldn't help but to notice the natural expression of pleasentry that came from the Queen. Often dancing was an art best used to express the athleticism or comportment of the young; by forty and one, the woman seemed to have more of it by her want to hold it than necessity to maintain it. Only when he danced with the Queen did the crowd cease for a moment to watch in order to applaud, to encourage, before joining in again.

"All my days," she replied to him with mouth to move but no words coming. All that sounded was her feet on the floor or her skirts in constant upheaval. "all my days."

{{ End Thread }}