Pendragon - RPG

Lady Elena lays a gentle hand on his arm. "If you could do so, good sir, I would be forever thankful."

 

Having spent the ride in quiet contemplation, even beyond the bounds of the working that had bound his tounge, the Crone's words still weighed upon Sir Antor's thoughts.


With an acclimatising croak of an unused voice he speaks up:

"Perhaps it would be well for us to walk the path that Sir Daine has taken upon his misadventure and meet these churls as he did before we confront the wayward son himself.


If we do not falter in our virtues when so tested, then we will have deprived his contention of its substance.


What know you of these 'Romans'?"

 

"Alas, you shall have to take my son with you as guide, for I do not know nor canst imagine what may have befallen him." The Lady Enide says, "My son merely returned in high wroth stating that he had been ill-used in such ways that all his father's virtues had come to naught. I do not know even which of our neighbours drove him to such churlishness. Had I known I could have sent to them in reproof."

"No formal challenges drove him to this, he would have revelled in such." Lady Enide sighs. "Sir Daine, my son, is Prideful. To hear other knights had avenged the insult to himself and his father where he could not, should cause him to debase himself further for his failure, should he not dismiss it as a trick and claim that they are without honour themselves."

"The Roman is the seneschal, a dour man named Septimus, one of many that my son has surrounded himself with. After he returned from visiting my neighbours, he dismissed of many of his vassals. If they would not serve him in his new ways, they were not welcome at his table, and many were sent out on errantry and told not to return. Septimus is a mercenary hire as many of the churls and brutes he surrounds himself with and no knight at all. I dislike him, for he says little and is always watching. I know not what tales he carries to my son's ears, but ware your words in his presence."

 

"I am so grateful for your help, sirs. Septimus pays me vile, vile, attentions, and I will not marry that man!" Lady Elena weeps.

 

"Lady Elena's plight is such." Lady Enide says, and the Lady Elena's face is most appealing in aspect as she turns to the knights. "Septimus is no knight, and even mine own errant son has not fallen so far as to hand a manor to such, but doubtless he would make the match to his interests, not her own."

"I am but the mother of Sir Daine, but I pledge thee I will speak to your cause in all ways." The Lady Enide rises from the table, followed by the Lady Elena. Beneath the veil both knights glimpse the damosel's concealed face, lesser in beauty perhaps to Guinevere's own, and the most worthy queen alone, as the ladies depart.

 

Lady Elena courtesys to Lady Enide in their rooms. "My Lady, I wish to go with them on the quest. It is my honour and my hand at stake, and my manor they will be visiting."

 

Indeed, it bears ill omen for goodly folks to be denied the proper rites of resting and more so for them to be hung out for all to see and for the carrion to feast.

Let us put to right what we may, but I would caution against tarrying here too long, lest this darkness pervade our own destinies.

 

"Indeed," says Lady Elena, "this is a most awful fate for such folk. Was there nowhere they could be buried? We must find out what has occurred."

 

"Such a sorry state to see the vill of Rimchurch. What tragedy has befallen you?" Lady Elena says, thinking that as she is known here, they may answer. "I share your sorrow for the loss of family, no matter the cause. Do you wish me to appeal to Sir Daine that they be granted burial?"

 

Lady Elena sits straight on her horse. Her face blanches at such horrors, but she remains strong. "How dreadful," she says, "and something must be done to correct this foul deed, and make what amends may be made. This has only strengthened my desire to see Sir Daine's misdeeds brought to justice myself. I have no fear for I am certain Sir Jowen and Sir Antor can protect me."

 

"My lords, I would be most grateful if you should bury them, but you do so to the despite of Sir Daine. The only hallowed land for the vill of Rimchurch is by the castle chapel, and I think me he will not keep quiet for such defiance in his own demense." The greybeard cautions, "Have not enough died for Sir Daine's folly? Begging your Lady's grace. We have both lsot sons."

The Lady Enide inclines her head.

"Hereward, I owe you far greater than to object to such. We have both lost sons, but mine yet breathes. I can ply him with words on the behalf of those unjustly slain, but I wit no hope he shall hear me." She looks to the knights. "Think you my words would be better spent ending the folly, or opening the chapel to those he has slain?"