In the late evening, the town folk gathered to celebrate their victory in the Great Hall. A hardy feast prepared for Lord Jakob. The townsfolk shower him with praise and gifts.
People sit at the long table drinking meade and making merry. Recantings of the battle are told throughout, though some are more fictional than others. The great hall is illuminated by flaming chandeliers of which torches flicker and glow. The decaying sun sets deep pinks in the evening sky witnessed through the tall windows.
Abathea sits next to Edwulf as he tears into cooked meat and chugs hardy meade. Abathea has been unable to stomach eating. The face of the man she killed is still haunting in her mind. She has never killed before and is wracked with guilt and shame. The goddess Anon despises slaying of any kind and it is only through the goddess's mercy in which one may be seated beneath the throne of The Great Lord of Heaven. She fears her path to eternal peace may be in jeopardy.
Edwulf however, relishes in violence, seemingly undisturbed. Perhaps the Northmen gods are different. Lord Jakob also does not appear fazed by his killing of enemies. This leads her to confusion in her teaching of the gods. Is slaying enemies righteous in the eyes of Anon? This has caused her head to spin and her stomach to become nauseous.
Lord Jakob and the Governor sit beside one another. They discuss their next plan of action while Wilberht stands over them.
Lord Jakob states, “I seek a war consul with Lord Talbot.”
Wilberht remarks, “I do not believe this wise Sire.”
The Governor informs, “There is a gathering of men of arms at Thorne. I believe Lord Talbot intends to raise an army.”
Wilberht asks, “Is it for war or defense?”
The Governor responds, “I am not sure.”
Lord Jakob says, “It matters not. We intend to aid King Daunte. With Kilgar's army marching on Chambois, we will need men at arms. I will discuss this with Lord Talbot.”
The Governor asks while fire light reflects off his face, “Do you really believe he will grant you his army?”
Lord Jakob replies, “No, but I do believe he will hear what I have to say,”
Wilberht strongly rebukes, “My Lord! You can't be serious?! You know the dangers of revealing your lineage!”
“We are in need of allies Wilberht.”
Wilberht disapproves, “I strongly disagree with this course of action.”
Jakob utters, “Without an army, we cannot relieve Chambois.”
The Governor interjects, “Then it is settled. You will attend Lord Talbots war counsel in Thorne. Leave by morning and you can make it with a few days time.”
“Nay, time is of essence. We leave tonight.”
“Right then. We will offer provisions and our fastest mounts. May the god of war Aptosis be with you Lord Wren.”
Later that evening, as night has felled and stars illuminate the heaven, the party travels forth. Wilberht and Lord Jakob ride horseback side by side while Abathea and Edwulf share a horse. Ponko is lead closely behind them.
Edwulf grumbles, “Ugh… for once a night I wish for a feather bed.”
Abathea responses dreerily, holding on to him as she sits behind him on the trotting horse, “Lord Jakob must have his reason for his haste.”
“Aye, but rest would have been nice. Even we Northmen get proper rest after battle.”
After a pause, Abathea asks, “Did you know he was a Lord?”
“Nay, I didn't.”
“How do you think Wilberht knew?”
“Well you said that Jakob had known Wilberht before he found you.”
Abathea remembers when Jakob found her and along with him was Wilberht.
“Why didn't they tell us?” she asks.
“I know not, but I am sure Sir Jakob has his reasons.”
Abathea ponders and wonders what else may have been hidden from her.
At the Front of the pack, Wilberht and Lord Wren converse.
“My Lord, I have served you faithfully for many years. And many times you have sought my counsel ... .but I can not condone this course of action.”
“It is not of your deciding,” Lord Jacob states.
“My Lord, I fear the treachery that wrought the destruction of House Wren may not have yet subsided.”
“Now is the time Wilberht. You know the importance of this mission. I must have a meeting with King Daunte before the royal capital falls to Kilgar.”
“I understand that sire, but we have no men to field an army. And even if we acquired forces from Lord Talbot, we would still not have the numbers to face Kilgar in battle.”
“I do not intend to face him in battle. Chambois is the key to Verdinani and with no other crossing on the River Ree, Kilgar will have to besiege it. We must hold it long enough for Lord Daunte to gather arms.”
“My Lord, you know the Royal Army has not left the capital.”
“I am aware Wilberht, the council is still trying for diplomatic measures. But this has not stopped Kilgar’s onslaught. The only hope is that other houses will align with the crown.”
“You know sir, defending a besieged city could be considered suicide.”
“That is why we must make haste to ready defenses. If we can arrive before Kilgar’s army, we may be able to set a proper resistance.”
Wilberht utters defeatedly, “Many will die from this course of action.”
“I know.”
The party settles to rest off of the road. The Late night is still and brings about a stiff cold. Abathea tries to find warmth in a blanket from makeshift cloth. With the haste of travel, she is unable to prepare her tent. Beside her is Edwulf who is lays on his back with arms behind his head, seemingly gazing up at the stars. Wilberht and Lord Jakob sleep near their mounts tied to a tree. Ponko lays in the leaves nearby.
Abathea shivers with hands and feet numb from the cold. Soft leaves crunch beneath her as she writhes for warmth. Oh what she would do for warmth at a time like this. She had rathered they stay at an inn with a warm soft bed and comforting pillows. Oh such a life that would be compared to sleeping on the sodden dirty earth. And a bath! Great Lord of Heaven! How long has she been without a bath! Even a dip in a creek would satisfy her.
She is still stridden with grime and dirt but the most pestering is the dirt which accumulates under her fingernails. Try and try she may to remove this excess muck which finds its home there but to no avail. No sooner does she clean them, more take its place. Hands of hers caked in dirt, completely unsettling for a lady. And the smells….the horrid vile reeking smells! She knows not who reeks worse, her or Edwulf, for they seem in competition.
But it is not these longings that disturb her rest nor the cold of night. No a new emotion has grabbed hold of her, guilt. Her slaying of the man, his eyes pleading distraught, haunts her mind.
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She can not remain in silence, “Edwulf? Are you awake?” she whispers.
Him with eyes closed answers “Yes.”
With reluctance she states as guilt consumes her, “Edwulf, I killed a man.”
“Aye, does your heart well with pride?”
She responds, lips quivering, “ No, I am ashamed.” Tears begin to roll down her cheeks as she trembles. “Am I supposed to feel this way?” she asks in vulnerability.
“Aye, it is always the first man that disturbs you most.”
With slight reassurance, she asks, “How do you handle killing so well?”
He huffs and answers, “You must realize that he made his choice, and now he must die with it.”
She pauses in thought and asks, “Does Anon forgive murder?” she whimpers.
“I hear your southernlands gods forgive everything.”
This reassures her but if only a little.
By the next day, Lord Jacob and Wilberht have entered a small village. This leaves Abathea, Edwulf and the steeds on the road. In this lull of travel, Abathea and Edwulf spar.
Abathea holds tightly on her blade. Sweat beads off of her face despite the cold. Her rapid breathing is notable by puffs of steam.
“Again.” Edwulf commands, battle ax at ready.
Abathea takes a deep breath and charges. She tips her blade straight at him. But he easily dodges, instead having Abathea charge past him. Furious now she turns to charge him. She swings her sword only for Edwulf to block it. In swift movement, he grabs her arm and bends it in an unpleasant manner. This causes Abathea to kneel in submission as Edwulf holds his Ax blade to her throat.
“You are dead,” he declares, releasing his hold on her.
Abathea huffs, frustrated, “How is one to fight like this!?”
“Calm yourself girl and heed my knowledge.” She silently fumes as he speaks, “You may not be able to overpower a man, but you can out smart him.” He tosses a satchel of throwing knives to her.
She grabs it and demands, “What am I supposed to do with these?!”
“Use them girl,” he commands, “Again!”
Abathea raises her blade and stands still deciding on how to proceed. Edwulf takes advantage and begins his approach. Abathea is still uncertain of how to hold him and nervousness comes as he nears.
Abathea huffs and decides, in quick movement, she throws the entire satchel at Edwulf’s face. Not only does it distracts, but it also causes him to rear back. Abathea takes this advantage to charge, intent on impaling his abdomen. Edwulf recovers and blocks her blade. This in turn causes her to stumble but she quickly regains balance and a fighting stance.
“Aye, better,” he says with a smirk.
After two days of travel, the party reaches the House Talbot capital of Thorne.
The city with a great keep is nestled deep within the autumn forest. Behind the city is a roaring waterfall the runs off of a cliff face. There is no walls aside from the keep itself in which many buildings surround. Outside however is a great many tents and makeshift shelters where men of arms have come to gather.
On horseback, they enter the town. First passing through the large community of tents in which the occupying men stare as they proceed. Upon entering the city proper, Abathea is impressed with the many shops and homes. Never has she seen so many structures so close together.
They approaching the keep, which is the residing place of House Talbot. Its great stone walls must reach thirty feet in height. Along with it are intimidating battlements and towers. Coming across the great iron doors that mark the entrance, the party passes.
Atop the wall a sentry demands, “Halt! Who goes there?!”
Jakob replies, “Lord Jakob of House Wren and party. We seek to attend the war consul.” There is a pause before the doors slowly groan open revealing the courtyard. Large and impressive it is because there are a few great trees and a pond. Direct ahead of them is the grand hall and seat of governance.
As the party approaches the imposing great hall, the doors come open and a balding man with a purple cape and well ornamented attire comes to them.
He states, “Do my ears deceive me? For I did hear you claim to be of House Wren.”
Lord Jakob dismounts his horse and reveals his sigil. The man responds after close examination, “Then welcome Lord Wren. By what should I owe this unexpected visit.”
“Lord Talbot, we seek to attend the war consul.”
“Very well, what army have you brought?”
“We have none.”
Lord Talbot huffs angrily, “You seek to attend a war consul bearing no army?!”
Lord Jakob calmly states, “You will have intrest in what I have to say.”
Talbot decries, “Such arrogance is unbecoming of House Wren! Why should I host you?!”
“Wilberht,” command Lord Jakob, “ Inform him.”
Wilberht dismounts and goes to whisper in the agitated Lord’s ear.
A look of shock falls upon his face as he utters quietly, “and you have proof of this?”
Wilberht simply nods.
Lord Talbot, with sudden apprehension, changes his demeanor, “Very well, we will discuss over dinner tonight. I will have much Servants lodge you and your horses attended.”
Abathea in bewilderedment asks, “What did he say?”
Edwulf replies, “ I don't know.”
Inside the great hall is a large and long table that can seat many. At the other end is the throne it's self. Vines and moss grow up the walls, while great tall widows let radiant light shine through. There is also a second story that wraps it's self with a walk way around the inner circumference of the hall.
Abathea is greatly impressed by such sights, as she carries a heavy pack of supplies. Her wandering eyes failed to notice the maid waiting anxiously to receive her.
“May I relieve you my lady?” says the taller blond haired maid.
Abathea, unused to such commodities, utters “No, that is quite alright.”
“Well then allow me to show you to your room.” she says with a joyous smile.
“Room?”
They go up steps to the second floor on to walkways. There one can see the banquet hall in its entirety. Railings prevent one from falling to the floor below. Several doors are listed on the side. On of which the maid opens to reveal a great master bedroom. Spacious it is, even with the wide bed that takes up most of the room.
Abathea has never seen such luxury. She utters, “Uh…. I think there has been a mistake.”
The maid smiles, “No mistake my Lady. This was arranged by Lord Talbot himself.”
Confused, Abathea reavels in honesty, “But I am only an aide.”
The maid smiles again, “No my lady, you are a guest.”
“Well uh thank you,” Abathea says as she studies the mahogany floors and the brilliant green walls. The bed is large and possesses a large and inviting comforter with soft appearing pillows. She would be willing to throw herself into the bed had shen not been so dirty. In fact she almost feels ashamed to occupy such a magnificent room.
Then she noticed that the maid had yet to leave her. Abathea's look prompts her to ask, “Can I be of further assistance to my lady?”
“Uh no I will be fine on my own.”
“I concur my Lady. I was instructed by Lord Talbot to be at your command.”
A servant? Abathea has never had a servant. She does not know what to do with such service. She asks, “Well what is your name?”
The maid's smile disappears into shock before she says, “Mairye, my name is Mairye.”
Abathea notices the distress and asks, “What bothers you?”
“Oh nothing my lady, just none here have bothered to know my name.”
This takes Abathea by surprise before she, “Well I do.”
“Thank you, my lady.”
“Please just call me Abathea.”
Instead of using her services, rather Abathea just converses with Mairye about her travels. Long has it been since she has been in the presence of female company.”
Mairye listens intently, “And you slayed this man?”
Abathea nods.
“And of this Edwulf? He sounds like quite the brute,” she says with a grin.
“No, not like that!” Abathea renounces with fluster cheeks.
“Well if my Lady won't have him, he can slay me any time he pleases.”
Abathea’s cheeks blush to red as scolds quietly, “Mairye! Quiet! Someone will hear.”
They both giggle amongst each other. How livening is it to have another woman to confide in.
Mairye states, “We must find you a lord my lady. Now in all your travels, you have yet to court anyone, not even a little.
Abathea runs her hands through her hair bashfully, “ No we never stayed in one place for very long.”
“Now my Lady, we simply must change that!” Mairye proclaimes with anxious excitement.
Confused, Abathea asks, “Like right now?”
“No first you must bathe, then we go hunting for suitors.” Mairye states with a grin.
Abathea can only respond with a face of fear and nervousness.
Later Abathea sits in a tub of warm water. Her wishes come true! How refreshing it is to soak in the cleansing waters! She can now actually veiw the paleness of her skin. Days worth of grime now washed away. Oh how pleasant this is! Anymore and it would be paradise!
Mairye enters again bringing with her a pitcher of hot water. Abathea conceals herself by submerging further in the tub.
“Now to wash your hair,” Mairye says standing behind Abathea. Gently she pours the hot water over her collecting, with it, dirt and debris. Mairye combs through Abathea’s hair before stopping and uttering, “Uh my Lady…”
“What is it?”
“You have uh….uh—”
Abathea sighs and says, “Bald spots? Yes I know.” The unpleasant and constant reminder of when she was assaulted by the marauder. Clumps of her hair ripped out and never grew back. She has embarrassingly been trying to conceal those scars with the rest of her long blond hair. She states ashamed, “Old wounds.”
There is silence in which Abathea fears that she is quietly being judged. But Mairye comes around quietly and, in vulnerability, reveals her wrist. Scars wrap around her wrists, no doubt the work of tight ropes and bindings. Embarrassingly she looks at Abathea, no longer with jolly demeanor. Her eyes tell a somber tale, she whispers, “I understand my Lady.”
A silent apprehension and bond is passed between them.
After drying, Abathea approaches the bed and asks, “What's this?”
Mairye replies, “Your attire for this evening.”
There upon the bed is a beautiful long dark green dress with silver spirals.
“No I couldn’t.”
“Why of course you can!” Mairye says with glee, “How else will you find a dashing prince?”
Abathea looks upon it how beautiful it is. Never has she worn such elegant attire. It is almost too magnificent to wear.
After a brief change, she finds that the dress accents her body nicely. Even so to reveal the slight curvature of her waist that even she didn't know she had.
The long dark green sleeves have silver sigil that run up on both sides. The dress hangs low as barely touching the floor. With a modest design, it fully covers her bust, or what little there is of it
“I knew there was a beautiful girl under there,” Mairye states, bringing a mirror.
Abathea gazes into the reflection to find a girl unrecognizable. Her long blond hair curls down to her shoulder. Piercing blue eyes stare back at her. Her cheeks are soft and round. Despite her pale complexion, her cheeks give off a slight red glow. Never has she seen herself this way before. Is this beautiful?
“Oh and let's not forget this,” Mairye says, revealing a bottle of perfume, “Even the Love goddess Libria would be envious of you.”
With a puff, Abathea gains the pleasing scent of magnolias and honeysuckles
“Now if this doesn’t bring you a suitor, then I don’t know what will.” Mairye states cheerfully.
“Thank you Mairye,” Abathea says as she stares into the mirror with disbelief. She can hardly believe who she sees is her.
By evening, Mairye and Abathea descend the stair case to join the commotion in the great hall. A gathering of many men seated around the long table.
As Abathea comes down, she spots Edwulf in his usual orange woollen attire, albeit cleaner and more pleasent smelling.
Edwulf says jokingly, “Wait, you're a woman?”
Abathea rolls her eyes and smiles. Mairye eyes Edwulf enviously.
“Where is Lord Jakob?” she asks.
“Aye, at the end.”
Abathea finds an empty seat at the far end of the table. At the head of the table is Lord Talbot. Seated beside him is Lord Jakob and Wilberht. On the otherside is a big chested burly man of whom’s name she does not know. Next to him is a young man who apears to be her age.Taking her seat, she notices the plate of some roasted meat, a glass of meade, and fine silverware. Looking down the table, she is sure it could accommodate at least fifty individuals. Flaming torches spark from chandeliers suspended high above the ceiling. People gayly talk amongst each other.
Edwulf comes and sits beside her.
This prompts her to ask smugly, “Found you any whores yet?”
He smiles ands proclaims, “Plenty!”
Abathea and he share a smile.
Suddenly Lord Talbot stands shuttering the hall to silence.
After a brief pause, he announces, “After much discussion with myself, Lord Talbot, and Reynalt, The Bastard of Thorn, we have decided to march to the relief of Chambois.”
A sudden exchange of whispers is heard throughout.
He pauses again before continuing, “It is the decree of this house to abide and aid the True King, King Daunte!”
The hall patrons chant, “Hail King Daunte!”
After another pause, he proclaims, “By tomorrow morn, House Talbot marches to war!” while raising his glass.
Cheerily, the hall chants with glasses raised, “To war! To war!”
Within the bustling excitement, Edwulf exclaims, “Finally a fight, how sweet will blood taste!” Abathea can help but feel herself growning excited. She has never been to war or such a grand adventure. Intoxicating ferver well with in her.
Across the table, she notices the young man stareing in awe at her. She has never had such attention before which causes her to blush and comb her hair.
Such a bliss was the evening but as Abathea retires to her room, there is a knock on the door. Expecting to see Mairye again, she opens. In stead she is suprised by Wilberht with a face of concern.
“Is everything ok?” she asks.
He replies soberly, “Abathea, you must ready yourself.”
“Why? what for?” she asks in alarm.
“War Is not to be taken likely.”
“Well yes of course.” she agrees.
“No, you do not understand,” he says, “We will be marching to a besieged city.”
“Um yes,” Abathea replies confused.
“This battle will be blood and long. You must steel yourself. These commodities will not be present when we arrive.”
With apprehension, she replies, “Yes, I understand.”
He says, “Good then get rest. The army marches at dawn.”
As he leaves her, she looks around the room taking in its beauty. Such a luxury this is. And by that warning, it may be a luxury she may never see again.