Upon hearing that their Lord wanted to celebrate, Draycott’s servants and house staff were driven into a frenzy of activity. More food was brought in; a troupe of travelling acrobats was paid a commission to perform and all of the local English nobility was expected to attend. Late in the evening, the great hall was a riot of colour, banners and pennants decorated the room, candles on every table, and seated around the tables were the English nobility. A small group of musicians were in a corner providing music for their indifferent audience. The men at the tables were a raucous lot, tearing at the meat, the fat dripping freely, and yelling out to each other, striving to be heard over the din that they themselves were the cause of. The ladies, for the most part the wives of the nobles, stood off to one side, tittering to themselves, each proclaimed their own significance in the greater picture.
Lord Edmund Draycott, Scourge of Agincourt and Protector of the Realm sat lording over his guests. He stood and the music faded off, the nobles at the tables only silencing upon realising. One man, not happy at being told to be quiet by his neighbour roared; “I will not be quiet!” Realising that the rest of the hall was silent, he rose to his feet in embarrassment, “I’m sorry my Lord,” he said.
“I expect that you are, Lord Graven,” said Draycott is a low voice, just above a whisper.
The entire room was deathly quiet, having heard rumours of the Lords madness, only attending as refusal would be met with an unfavourable response.
“Lords and Ladies,” Draycott bellowed, “We are gathered here tonight to celebrate. Our King brought us to this land to claim it for England. We failed then and he left the war in our hands so we can continue the fight! I have this very day been shown the key to victory! We will win this land for the crown, we will defeat the vermin that swarm this land like some unholy blight!” he finished with a roar. The nobles erupted with cheers. “Who is with me?” he asked in a normal voice after the cheers had died down. A few men murmured their affirmative, willing to commit to the cause of a known madman. “Who will stand with me?” he repeated with a roar, a roll of thunder outside seemed to emphasise the cry. This time the room rose to their feet, roaring in approval, no noble daring to give Draycott any reason to focus on them. After the adulation had died down, Draycott gestured that they sit, and apart from one man, they did so.
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“Lord Graven, would you like to sit down?” asked Draycott acidly.
“Of course my Lord,” he said in his blustery voice, “But first I’d like to promise you that I, my sons and my household will gladly fight for you!”
“Lord Graven,” said Draycott in a soft voice.
“Yes my Lord?” he asked.
Draycott opened his mouth to continue but was interrupted by a howl of agony from somewhere within the castle. The nobles went white, wondering what madness Draycott was up to now. He signalled a guardsman and Birkett strode over, “My Lord?” he asked.
“Find the source of that noise and rid us of it,” instructed Draycott in a harsh whisper.
“It is your failed First Merchant my Lord,” replied Birkett.
“What? How do you know?” asked Draycott surprised.
“Because I know what she sounds like when she is in pain,” replied Birkett with a knowing look.
“Ah yes, of course, your hobby,” said Draycott with a look of hunger on his face. “If that is indeed the case, take her to the river and dump her in. But make sure her lesions rupture.”
Birkett bowed and turned to leave but Draycott grabbed him by the arm, “Don’t get any of the stuff on you either. But take Wayte with you. I won’t see it as a problem if he is infected.”
Birkett bowed again, “It will be my pleasure,” he replied with an unpleasant grin on his face.
“My Lords, my Ladies,” roared Draycott turning back to his audience, “The sound you heard was the beginning. We have a weapon to use on the French. It is being put in place as we speak.” Having gained their attention, he sowed the air with seeds of obedience, only the strongest would withstand this magic. “Within the week it will reduce the French to a force we will have no trouble eradicating. Return to your homes this night; spread the word amongst your estates, among your subjects. We will march on the French by week’s end!” He finished his speech with a flourish and a deep formal bow at his guests, knowing that even those few that could resist him now wouldn’t be enough to stop him. The nobles roared with approval, getting to their feet and applauding.